Update for 76970HEADmain

1 files changed, 12019 insertions, 0 deletions

diff --git a/76970-0.txt b/76970-0.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..9755536
--- /dev/null
+++ b/76970-0.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,12019 @@
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76970 ***
+
+Transcriber's notes: Unusual and inconsistent spelling is as printed.
+
+New original cover art included with this eBook is granted to the
+public domain.
+
+
+
+[Illustration: THE ORPHAN NIECES.
+ FRONTISPIECE.]
+
+
+
+                        THE ORPHAN NIECES;
+
+                                OR,
+
+                       Duty and Inclination.
+
+
+                                BY
+
+                       LUCY ELLEN GUERNSEY
+
+   AUTHOR OF "UPWARD AND ONWARD," "IRISH AMY," "SOPHIE KENNEDY,"
+                     "COMFORT ALLISON," ETC.
+
+
+                             NEW YORK:
+                   ANSON D. F. RANDOLPH & COMPANY
+                     770 BROADWAY, COR. 9th ST.
+
+
+
+    ————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————
+
+     Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1856, by the
+
+                        ANSON D. F. RANDOLPH,
+
+  In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for
+                  the Southern District of New York.
+
+    ————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————
+
+
+
+                              CONTENTS.
+
+                               ——————
+
+   CHAPTER FIRST. LAYING OUT PLANS
+
+   CHAPTER SECOND.
+
+   CHAPTER THIRD.
+
+   CHAPTER FOURTH.
+
+   CHAPTER FIFTH.
+
+   CHAPTER SIXTH.
+
+   CHAPTER SEVENTH.
+
+   CHAPTER EIGHTH.
+
+   CHAPTER NINTH.
+
+   CHAPTER TENTH.
+
+   CHAPTER ELEVENTH.
+
+   CHAPTER TWELFTH.
+
+   CHAPTER THIRTEENTH.
+
+   CHAPTER FOURTEENTH.
+
+   CHAPTER FIFTEENTH.
+
+   CHAPTER SIXTEENTH.
+
+   CHAPTER SEVENTEENTH.
+
+   CHAPTER EIGHTEENTH.
+
+   CHAPTER NINETEENTH.
+
+   CHAPTER TWENTIETH.
+
+
+
+                       DUTY AND INCLINATION;
+
+                                OR,
+
+                        The Orphan Nieces.
+
+                          [Illustration]
+
+CHAPTER FIRST.
+
+LAYING OUT PLANS.
+
+IT was the time of the noon recess in Mrs. Granger's school, and the
+long upper school-room was pretty well filled with her pupils, who were
+gathered as chance or inclination prompted, some walking up and down
+in pairs, or singly, talking and reading, others actively engaged in
+battledore graces, or the old and classic game of jack-stones, and a
+few at their desks, endeavoring, amid the babel of noises, to fix their
+attention upon their lessons. By far the largest group, however, was
+assembled around the piano, sitting, standing, lounging, in all sorts
+of attitudes, graceful and ungraceful, and engaged in discussing that
+never-failing subject of interest, the approaching examination.
+
+"After all, girls," remarked Olive McHenry, after the matter had been
+reviewed in every aspect of which it seemed capable, "after all, there
+is something very pleasant about examinations."
+
+"I should be glad to know what it is," remarked her cousin Charlotte.
+"I have never been able to see any thing agreeable about it, except
+that it comes just before vacation."
+
+"I suppose that is one pleasure," said Olive, with something of a
+sigh, "but I think there are some others. It always causes a little
+excitement, the rules are relaxed, and all the teachers are in their
+best humor."
+
+"To say nothing of the prizes," remarked Helen Monteith.
+
+"Yes, the prizes are pleasant, too, but they are only for a few, so it
+is hardly fair to rank them among the pleasures of examination."
+
+"But don't you think vacations are pleasant, Olive?" asked one of the
+little girls.
+
+"Oh! Yes, of course," answered Olive, but somewhat indifferently.
+
+"But it is so nice to think about going home," persisted little Anna,
+who was only eleven years old. "Think of the journey, and the arrival,
+and dear, dear mother!" Anna checked herself, and looked around,
+blushing, as though she feared having exposed herself to ridicule.
+
+"You forget I have no mother, Anna," remarked Olive, gravely but gently.
+
+"To be sure that makes a great deal of difference," assented Anna, in a
+sympathizing tone. "I should not care any thing about going home, if it
+were not for seeing father and mother."
+
+"Perhaps, if you had some one at home who had done every thing they
+could for you, you might care something about seeing them, Annie,"
+remarked Charlotte Merton, in the measured tone which was always a
+sign of excitement with her, "instead of feeling that no gratitude or
+affection was due them because they were 'only' uncle and aunt."
+
+Olive colored extremely, and looked very much hurt. Several of the
+girls exchanged glances, and Anna looked from one to the other in
+surprise.
+
+"I don't think Olive had any such meaning, Charlotte," said Helen
+Monteith, while Olive stooped to pick up some scattered bits of paper.
+"I am sure it is natural she should think of her parents, when we are
+all talking of going home, and seeing our friends."
+
+"It may be very natural, too, for Olive to be constantly insinuating
+that she is not happy, or well-treated at home," returned Charlotte,
+"but I must say, it does not seem to me to be just the thing for a
+person in her situation."
+
+"I did not mean or say any such thing, Charlotte," said Olive, looking
+up suddenly; "you know very well I did not. You have been angry all
+day, because I stood above you in history this morning, and you take
+this way to revenge yourself."
+
+Olive stopped suddenly. She caught Helen's eye of warning fixed upon
+her, and biting her lip, she again attempted to busy herself with the
+bits of paper but it was in vain. She burst into tears, and retreated
+to her seat, while Charlotte looked after her with an expression of
+triumph, and the girls exchanged glances, some of sympathy and others
+of amusement.
+
+"What is the matter with your sister, Abby?" asked one of the girls in
+another part of the room.
+
+Abby McHenry looked up from the book she was reading, and in which she
+had contrived to be wholly absorbed, despite the noise and confusion
+around her. "Is any thing the matter with Olive?" she asked, as if she
+were only half-awakened.
+
+"I presume so," said Maria Grey; "she seems to be crying, and she is
+not apt to cry for nothing."
+
+"I suppose she has had some trouble with Charlotte," said Abby, closing
+her book, and preparing to go to her sister. "I do wish Charlotte would
+leave off teasing her, or that she would leave off caring for it. I
+think she might be used to her amiable cousin by this time. But I must
+go and stop her crying, or she will make herself sick: She does not cry
+as easily as I do."
+
+Abby did not inquire of her sister what disturbed her, but she sat down
+by her, and by caresses and persuasions, finally induced her first to
+check her sobs, and then to retire to her room, and bathe her face and
+eyes before school. This accomplished, she returned to the school-room,
+and sought out Helen Monteith.
+
+"Do take Olive out to walk after school, Helen, and keep her quiet,"
+she said. "She gets into such a taking, and I can not manage her half
+as well as you do."
+
+"You don't get into takings, yourself, Abby," said Helen, laughing at
+the oddity of the request.
+
+"I don't allow Charlotte to disturb me, at any rate," returned Abby. "I
+know her too well, and what is the use? But do pray comfort Olive, if
+you can. I don't know what she will do when we go home for good," she
+continued; "for it is worse there than it is here. I really dread the
+close of the next half-year, not for myself, but for her."
+
+
+"Come and walk in the grove with me, Olive," said Helen, accordingly,
+as soon as school was out. "I have obtained permission of Mrs. Granger,
+and the day is so cool that we shall have our favorite walks all to
+ourselves."
+
+Olive assented, and the two friends were now to be seen passing up and
+down the long gravelled paths, which led through a thick grove of beech
+and maple, down to the water's edge.
+
+"How tired you look, Olive," said Helen, at last.
+
+"I am not so much tired as I am fretted and worried," Olive replied. "I
+do not see what it is to come to."
+
+"What 'what' is to come to?" asked Helen.
+
+"The times I have with Charlotte," replied Olive. "You saw how it was
+at noon. Because I said something about having no mother, she took it
+up, and made it appear that I was trying to insinuate that I was not
+well-treated at home. There is hardly a day of our lives that she does
+not get up some such scene, and she generally takes occasion, in the
+course of it, to put me in mind of the fact that I am dependent upon
+her father."
+
+"But you are not entirely dependent, are you?" inquired Helen.
+
+"Not entirely. We three girls, Abby, Laura, and myself, have almost
+three hundred dollars a year between us. That is enough to provide as
+with clothes, but it will not be quite as much when we finish going to
+school. So Abby and I stay at uncle Merton's, and my aunt Dimsden has
+adopted Laura, and educates her at home."
+
+Olive paused a little, and then went on. "Uncle Merton is very kind,
+and I always get on nicely with him. Aunt is kind too, at least in all
+essentials, and I am very much attached to her. But she naturally sides
+with Charlotte, and never imagines that she can do any thing wrong.
+Then aunt is proud. She was very indignant at my mother, for marrying
+beneath her, as she thought, and she thinks I am just like my father.
+I hope I am," continued Olive, coloring with a justifiable pride; "I
+should not wish to resemble a better man."
+
+"But in spite of all this I should do very well, if it were not for
+Charlotte. She renders my life miserable by her everlasting jealousy
+and suspicion. Even that I could put up with, but this feeling
+that I am only a dependent, and have no home of my own except upon
+sufferance—that I may be looked upon as an intruder and a burden—it is
+that which embitters every moment of my life."
+
+"How does Abby bear it?" asked Helen.
+
+"Why, Helen, you know how Abby is? Nothing ever disturbs her. I have
+heard aunt scold her half an hour at a time, so that if it had been me,
+I should have felt like drowning myself almost, and she would not care
+any more for it than though the old cat had mewed at her. It is just so
+when Mrs. Granger finds fault with her. I wish I had her temper, I am
+sure."
+
+Helen had her doubts whether Olive would be, upon the whole, improved
+by having her sister's indifference, but she did not express them. "I
+wonder, Olive," she said, after a few moments' silence, "that you do
+not at once take measures to render yourself independent."
+
+"How do you mean?" asked Olive. "How would I?"
+
+"Very easily. You have had every advantage of education so far, and
+you say you expect to be in school at least half a year longer. What
+hinders you from preparing yourself thoroughly, and thus engaging in
+teaching?"
+
+Olive looked as though she had received a perfectly new idea. "I never
+thought of that," said she; "I wonder if I could."
+
+"Why not? A great many people undertake it, who are by no means equal
+to you in capacity or advantages, and are successful."
+
+"But it is a great drudgery, Helen."
+
+"That depends upon circumstances, my dear. That teaching must always
+be hard work, I allow, but it seems to me that it is very possible to
+raise it above the character of drudgery."
+
+"How?"
+
+"By putting one's whole heart and soul into it, as many teachers do.
+Witness Mrs. Granger and Miss Lee, and our good Professor De V. But,
+even allowing that it is hard work, is it not better to work hard, and
+be your own mistress, than to live in leisure and luxury, dependent
+upon another, however kind and considerate that other may be?"
+
+Olive looked very thoughtful. "Yes," said she, at length, "I would
+rather work hard from year's end to year's end, if I could make enough
+to support myself comfortably. But how should I go to work to procure a
+situation?"
+
+"Ask Mrs. Granger to find you one. You know she procured excellent
+places for Ann Browning and Elizabeth Hayes. She likes nothing better
+than to help the girls in this way, unless it is to see them married."
+
+"What would uncle and aunt say, I wonder? I think it very doubtful
+whether they would hear of such a thing. Aunt said the last time we
+were at home that she hoped to have us settled in homes of our own
+before we were twenty-five."
+
+"There is another thing to be taken into the account, Olive," said
+Helen. "Suppose your aunt undertakes to make up a match for you. If you
+are at all what I take you to be, you are not the girl to marry for
+a home or an establishment, whatever may be your circumstances. But
+suppose, as I said, she undertakes in all kindness to provide you with
+a husband. Your ideas and hers very probably would not agree. If you
+refused, out and out, your situation at home would not be rendered in
+the least degree more comfortable, while if you accepted, as you might
+be greatly tempted to do, there would be an end of all self-respect and
+happiness for the future."
+
+"I have often thought of that, among the other discomforts of my
+condition," replied Olive, "though I never saw my way out of it before.
+I do not think that aunt Rebecca would ever intentionally do any thing
+ungenerous, though she does not like to be contradicted. But it will
+not do to decide hastily," she continued. "I must take the matter into
+consideration. I believe I will say that I will not try to come to any
+conclusion till after next Sunday."
+
+"Why next Sunday?" asked Helen.
+
+"Because it is Communion-Sunday," replied Olive. "I do not know but
+I am superstitious about it, Helen, but it does seem to me as though
+prayers upon communion-days were worth more than at other times."
+
+"I do not see why they should not be," Helen said; "one would naturally
+pray with more faith and earnestness in presence of the memorials of
+the love of our Master and only Saviour, and it is said, 'According to
+your faith be it unto you.'"
+
+"I have often thought it was wrong in me to be so discontented,"
+continued Olive, after they had taken two or three turns in silence,
+"and I have struggled hard against the feeling, but it will come back."
+
+"I think it would be wrong to be discontented, if you could help
+yourself," returned Helen, "but if we can better our condition by
+proper and lawful means, it appears to me that we have a right to do
+so. If I were you, I should make a great effort to be free, and not be
+discouraged by a good many hindrances. But if it should be shown to be
+clearly impossible, I should try to be contented, and make the best of
+it."
+
+"I wonder what Charlotte will say?"
+
+"Never mind what Charlotte says," returned Helen, with some little
+impatience in her tone. "I do wonder, Olive, that when you know her
+so well, you should constantly disturb and fetter yourself with a
+reference to her. You never appear to advantage where she is, because
+you always seem under such a constraint, and you hardly ever express an
+opinion before her, without looking as if you wondered how she would
+take it."
+
+"It is foolish I know," said Olive, coloring, "but one reason is that
+she always seems upon the watch to turn me into ridicule, and if I say
+an unguarded word, she is sure to take advantage of it. Then if I show
+any signs of resentment, comes out something about my being dependent."
+
+"Another reason for rendering yourself independent."
+
+"Yes, and a very great one. If it were not for her, I should not care
+so much. For really aunt means to be very kind, though she does not
+always show it in the most agreeable way. And uncle is every thing that
+is good. I think if I decide upon this course, I will write to him
+before we go home. I can always speak my mind better in a letter than
+in any other way, and if I have his consent, I shall have little to
+fear; for he is most emphatically head of the house. Even Charlotte is
+afraid of him."
+
+"You will have a strong motive for making the most of your time while
+you remain in school," said Helen. "If I were you, Olive, I would
+devote more time to Latin and mathematics. You are a good French and
+Italian scholar, and your standing in the other classes is excellent.
+But if you will allow me to say so, you are rather behindhand in these
+two branches, especially in algebra."
+
+"I know I am," replied Olive; "I like them so much less than the
+others, and they are so much more difficult for me, that I have always
+felt a temptation to neglect them."
+
+"But they are very necessary for a teacher," remarked Helen.
+
+"I will begin to work at them this very night. I shall dislike to give
+up the French prize, too," she continued, with something like a sigh,
+"but it can not be helped. I must risk a less for a greater, as Mr.
+De V. says. Charlotte will think I am trying to take the mathematical
+prize from her. She regards it as hers already, you know, and I fear
+there is no chance of my coming up to it so late in the term."
+
+"Charlotte again! Why should you wish to take it from her? Let her have
+that, and the French prize too, if she wants them. I should rather
+give them both up, than have any new cause of jealousy arise. You are
+working for a larger prize than a writing-desk, are you not?"
+
+"She might have every one in the school if it would make her any
+better-natured," returned Olive. "Suppose I tell her that I will not
+try for any of them?"
+
+"That would hardly answer the purpose. Just devote yourself to making
+up your own deficiencies and let things take their course. If you gain
+a prize, well and good; if not, you can afford to lose it. But there is
+the half-hour bell for tea; I had no idea we had been out so long."
+
+
+When the bell rung for study at seven, Olive prepared to push her
+resolution into practice. Yet it was not without a sigh that she
+cleared her end of the table of dictionaries and grammars, and took
+down her slate and geometry. This was soon dispatched, and it was with
+a still deeper sigh that she turned to her algebra.
+
+Abby intimated her surprise in humorous dumb-show, but did not speak;
+for both the sisters were very particular in observing the rules, Olive
+from principle, and Abby because she very well knew that there was no
+use in talking, to her sister, since she only lost her credit-marks,
+without getting any answers.
+
+The lesson appeared uncommonly puzzling, and at first it seemed
+hopeless to try to understand it. Yesterday she would have contented
+herself with bestowing only just as much labor upon it as would save
+her from disgrace in the class, but she had a new and powerful motive
+for exertion. With a strong effort, she brought all her powers of mind
+to bear upon the task before her, and before nine o'clock she was able
+to lay down her slate with a sigh at once of fatigue and relief, and
+turn to her French lesson. She had hardly set about it, however, before
+the bell rang, which proclaimed that study was over for the night, and
+set free the hundred and twenty tongues that inhabited the building,
+Abby's among the number.
+
+"How you have been fagging at that algebra!" she exclaimed, as the
+first stroke sounded. "Are you going to try to get Charlotte's prize
+away from her?"
+
+"No," replied Olive, as she threw herself back in her chair; "I have no
+expectation of any such thing. She is too far before me for that. But I
+want to make up my deficiencies in mathematics if I can."
+
+"What a pity you did not begin before! It is so near examination that
+every credit counts, and you will not have time to get any extras in
+French, if you give so much to algebra. I should not like to have you
+lose the French prize, after taking it so often."
+
+"I own I should be sorry to lose it," said Olive, "but after all, Abby,
+the prize is not the principal thing."
+
+"Perhaps not, but you must own it is a great help. Much as I
+love music, I don't believe I should have applied for an extra
+practice-hour, but for the hope of winning that beautiful copy of
+Dante."
+
+"I am working for a prize, too," said Olive, "but it is not a school
+prize."
+
+Abby looked at her in surprise. "Oh! Yes, of course," she said at last,
+"you always want to do just right, I know." Abby spoke in entire good
+faith. Perhaps the strongest feelings she ever had were admiration and
+love for her sister. She would for Olive's sake sacrifice even her
+dearly beloved laziness, which was the strongest proof of affection it
+was possible for her to give.
+
+"That is not it, exactly, either," said Olive. "I have a plan in my
+head."
+
+"Don't tell me, Olive, if you don't want Charlotte to know,"
+interrupted Abby. "You know she always questions every thing out of me
+sooner or later. However, don't look so disappointed," she added; "if
+you want me to know very much, I will make an extra effort to keep my
+own counsel for once."
+
+"I do want you to know very much," replied Olive, "and I do not want
+you to mention it to Charlotte, at least not till after I write to
+uncle." And she proceeded to unfold her plans.
+
+Abby listened with a mingled expression of perplexity and astonishment.
+When Olive had finished:
+
+"If you were the least bit like me, Olive, I should say it was the
+most absurd thing in the world. But being as you are, I don't so much
+wonder at it. I don't see why you can not be contented to go on as we
+have done, and as I always mean to do, enjoying the good and letting
+the evil go by. But if you can not, and I really suppose you can't, you
+would no doubt be more comfortable in a state of independence. But O
+Olive! Only think of the work! Think of having to teach all sorts of
+children six hours a day, from year's end to year's end all your life
+long."
+
+"And think of having to put up with Charlotte's impertinence, and aunt
+Dimsden's matchmaking, and aunt Rebecca's lectures all one's life long,
+never being able to spend a cent of money without having to account
+for it to some one, whose tastes are entirely different from your own.
+Think of—"
+
+"Yes, I know all that," interrupted Abby, "but after all, we always
+have as much money as we want to spend, or nearly as much; for I
+don't believe any body had really ever as much as they wanted," she
+added laughing. "As for aunt's lectures, they need not worry you, if
+you would only take them in the right way. Charlotte is a nuisance
+sometimes, I allow, but then she has a right in her father's house, and
+we are there only upon sufferance; so we must not wonder if she sets
+herself up."
+
+"Being there upon sufferance is the very thing I complain of," said
+Olive. "I would rather work ever so hard and feel that I had a right to
+be somewhere, than to live with the kindest persons in the world upon
+sufferance."
+
+"So would not I," replied Abby. "But Olive, if you are really set upon
+this scheme, I would write to uncle about it before we go home, and
+get his consent: then you will know exactly what to expect and can act
+accordingly. I shall be sorry to have you go away from me," she added
+with a sigh, "but if you think you will be happier—and perhaps," she
+said with her birdlike laugh, which Olive could never resist, "I shall
+make a grand marriage by that time, and then you can come and live with
+me." And she forthwith began to place the prospective arrangements of
+Olive's bedroom.
+
+Olive sighed and smiled. She knew her sister had almost no capacity for
+seriousness, and while she often felt painfully the want of sympathy
+which existed between them, she was thankful for her affection—an
+affection greater than Abby bestowed upon any other living creature.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER SECOND.
+
+BY the end of the week which Olive had set for consideration, her
+determination was firmly fixed upon the plan which Helen had proposed
+to her. The letter to her uncle was written and sent, and she composed
+herself to wait for an answer with what patience she might, applying
+herself meanwhile with all diligence to perfect herself in those
+studies wherein she felt herself most deficient.
+
+Charlotte found, to her great surprise, that Olive was gaining upon her
+in mathematics, while they were more nearly upon an equality in French
+than they had ever been before; for Olive found it entirely impossible
+to keep up her ordinary standing in the latter class. She could not
+help feeling mortified the first two or three times she came to the
+recitation with only her regular lesson and a short translation. But
+the feeling passed off by degrees, and she was able to hear Charlotte
+commended with all due complacency.
+
+Not so Charlotte. Every honor gained by Olive in algebra and geometry
+seemed an annoyance to her, and she actually turned pale when the
+credits were read at the end of the week, and Olive's name stood within
+one of her own.
+
+Several of the girls smiled, and Abby laughed outright, despite her
+sister's reproving looks, all of which did not tend to make Charlotte
+feel any more amiably. Almost as soon as school was out for the
+afternoon, she came up to where Olive and Abby were standing, with
+several of the other girls.
+
+"I wish to know, Olive," she said, in her measured tones, "whether you
+intend to dispute the mathematical prize with me?"
+
+"I do not intend to dispute it with you, or any one, Charlotte,"
+replied Olive, gently; "I should stand very little chance of success
+if I did. You know I have always been very deficient in mathematics,
+and I want to make it up while I have time. As for the prize, that is
+as it may happen. I shall be very much surprised if I do get it, and
+certainly your chance is much better than mine."
+
+"I am to understand, then, that you mean to contend for the prize?"
+
+"No," replied Olive, a little impatiently; "I do not. I only mean to
+learn my lessons as well as I can, and let the prize take its chance."
+
+"If that is all you want, I think it would be just as well to learn
+your lessons without the key," said Charlotte, with a significant sneer.
+
+Olive colored, while Abby exclaimed: "How perfectly absurd you are,
+Charlotte. I don't believe Olive ever looked at the key, and I am sure
+I should know it if she had."
+
+"I do not believe there is any key," said Maria Grey. "Miss Lincoln,"
+she asked of one of the teachers who was passing, "is there any key to
+the higher algebra?"
+
+"Not that ever I heard of," answered Miss Lincoln; "why?"
+
+"Nothing, only Charlotte thought she had seen one," said Maria, and
+Miss Lincoln passed on. "You see you are wrong, Charlotte," she
+continued; "I really think you owe Olive an apology for your uncivil
+insinuation."
+
+"Perhaps I was wrong in 'this' instance," returned Charlotte, with
+peculiar emphasis. "I confess I am not so well acquainted with keys and
+counted exercises as some of you."
+
+She turned round to mark the effect of this speech upon Olive, but
+Olive had left the room.
+
+Olive learned to attach much less importance to her cousin's jealousy,
+since she seemed to have a prospect of escaping from it at some time
+or other. But she had a new source of uneasiness. It was two weeks
+since she had written to her uncle, and she had yet received no answer.
+She began to think that he was ill, or else that he was seriously
+displeased, and either idea was sufficiently unpleasant. About Mrs.
+Merton's opinion she felt less anxiety; for she felt that, however
+annoyed her aunt might be in the outset, she was sure to come round to
+her husband's side in the end.
+
+
+The next morning, however, brought the much-desired answer, and it was
+with no little agitation that Olive retired to her room and broke the
+seal. A hasty glance told her that she had nothing to fear from her
+uncle's anger, and, that apprehension removed, she was able to read the
+letter more calmly from beginning to end.
+
+Mr. Merton was not in the least displeased with his niece's desire
+for independence; on the contrary, he sympathized with her entirely,
+but he feared that she had not thoroughly counted the cost. Teaching,
+pursued as a means of support, was a laborious, and oftentimes a
+harassing occupation. It would probably be some time before she
+would be able to earn a high salary, or occupy any but a subordinate
+position, and she would find herself obliged to put up with a good many
+trials, of which she had very little conception. He did not, however,
+mean to discourage her from her undertaking, which he thought very
+praiseworthy, but he wished her to take the time which remained of the
+term for consideration. And if, when she came home, she continued of
+the same mind, he would cheerfully aid her by every means in his power.
+He mentioned at the end that aunt Rebecca sent her love, but he did not
+say whether she knew any thing of the matter in hand.
+
+Olive's feelings had been wrought up to a pitch higher than she herself
+was aware of. While the matter was uncertain, she had made up her mind
+to be disappointed, but no sooner did she learn that there was every
+prospect of success, than she became aware of what a failure would have
+cost her, and, while she laughed at herself for the weakness, she could
+not help crying.
+
+Abby surprised her before she had quite dried her tears. She snatched
+the letter from her sister's hands, and read it through.
+
+"Why, what are you crying for?" she very naturally asked. "I do not
+see but uncle says every thing you could wish. You certainly can not
+think it unreasonable that he wants you to wait till vacation before
+deciding! Even I should not object to that."
+
+"I don't know what I am crying for, that is the truth," said Olive,
+drying her tears and laughing, "only that I had made up my mind to
+be disappointed, and uncle's kind letter came upon me with a sort of
+surprise. I do not at all complain of his wanting me to take a longer
+time for consideration, you may be sure."
+
+"I wonder what aunt Rebecca will say!"
+
+"I rather think he has not mentioned the affair to her at all. I wish
+you would join me, Abby."
+
+"Oh! No; it is entirely out of the question. To begin with, I don't
+know any thing well enough to teach it, but music, and I never should
+have the patience to teach that. Think of being obliged, day after
+day, to listen to all sorts of compositions, good and bad, drummed
+and thrummed, and thumped and pounded, out of all sorts of pianos,
+by all sorts of hands, with a running accompaniment of 'one,' two,
+three—'one,' two, three—mind the rests—one, two, three—take care of
+that accidental—and so on, to the end of the chapter."
+
+"But you might learn other things, Abby."
+
+"It is far too late for that, my dear, even if I had the capacity,
+which I have not. And besides, I am very well contented as I am. I
+shall be sorry to have you away, but if you think you will be happier,
+I shall not mind it so much. And perhaps, as I said, I shall be married
+to some rich man before you come back from your first term, and then
+you can come and live with me."
+
+"You would not marry for an establishment, would you, dear?"
+
+"Oh! Not really, you know! That would be worse than teaching, because
+it would be mean, us well as inconvenient. But then, I may take a fancy
+to a rich man as well as a poor one, may I not?"
+
+"You may, to be sure," said Olive, smiling, "but I do not think it is
+very profitable to speculate upon such things."
+
+"Well, then, if you won't be interested in my matrimonial projects,
+come and play battledore with me in the hall. That good-natured little
+Anna has lent me hers, and I am dying for some one to play with me.
+Come, you are getting as old as your great-grandmother, over those
+stupid figures. Who do you think will want a teacher looking like a
+Sphynx?"
+
+Olive laughed, but suffered herself to be drawn away from her books,
+and at the end of an hour's active exercise, she certainly felt better,
+and inclined to take a brighter view of life. She gave Charlotte her
+father's message, without, however, showing her the letter, at which
+Charlotte was very angry, and at once concluded that Olive had been
+writing something to her disadvantage.
+
+
+Examination-time came, and, to the wonder of every one, Olive took
+but one premium, and that was for the higher mathematics—considered
+the highest prize in the school. No one stood any where near her but
+Charlotte, and she was twenty behind, though she took the second honor
+in French, and the first in history.
+
+Olive was as much astonished as any one else: she had not kept the run
+of her own credits, and could hardly believe her ears when the account
+was read. It was with any thing but a feeling of unmixed pleasure that
+she went forward to receive the prize—a beautifully-fitted writing-desk.
+
+As soon after school as she could get an opportunity, she went up to
+Mrs. Granger's private room, where she found Charlotte, apparently in a
+state of much excitement, and she caught her own name as she entered.
+
+"Mrs. Granger," said Olive, "are you sure there is no mistake about the
+prize?"
+
+"What mistake could there be, Olive?"
+
+"I did not think—I had no idea of gaining the prize in mathematics,"
+replied Olive. "I supposed Charlotte would like it of course."
+
+"I presume Charlotte thought so too, and that may be the way she has
+lost it," said Mrs. Granger. "She has taken it so many times that she
+felt herself perfectly secure, and relaxed her efforts, while you have
+improved very much. Charlotte has taken two prizes, and that ought to
+content her."
+
+"I should hive taken this too, if I had had a fair chance," burst forth
+Charlotte, the violence of her feelings causing her to forget the
+respect due to Mrs. Granger's presence. "If the trial had been half
+fair, I should have had nothing to fear."
+
+"What am I to understand by that, Miss Merton?" asked Mrs. Granger,
+with stately dignity.
+
+"That Olive has been helped and favored in every way, while I have
+been left to depend upon my own efforts," returned Charlotte, far too
+angry to consider what she said. "Miss Lincoln has always been ready to
+assist her, and so has Miss Smith. As long as the partiality extended
+only to French, I was willing to put up with it, but to be cheated out
+of my just dues by a poor relation—a dependent upon my father's bounty."
+
+"Charlotte Merton, hold your peace!" said Mrs. Granger, in her very
+sternest tone of authority, before which the boldest rebel quailed.
+"Your conduct is disgraceful in the extreme. In charging Miss Lincoln
+with favoritism, you at once insult me, and make an accusation which
+you can not sustain, for I venture to say that there is not another
+girl in the class, beside yourself and Olive, who is the least
+surprised at the result. As for your saying that Olive has cheated you,
+the very fact of her coming here at once to ascertain whether there was
+not a mistake—to say nothing of her established character for purity
+and honor—gives the lie to that assertion.
+
+"For shame, young lady! Have you so little magnanimity that though
+you have taken two premiums yourself, you grudge your cousin another,
+besides taunting her with her misfortunes? I am very much disappointed
+in you, Charlotte! I knew your temper was in many respects faulty, but
+I never saw any littleness in you before. No, Olive, my dear, there
+is no mistake about the prize. You have fairly earned it, and we all
+rejoice that your efforts have been crowned with success. Yet I venture
+to say that the honor has not been your object in these efforts—is it
+not so?"
+
+"Yes ma'am," replied Olive, whose first indignation against Charlotte
+had subsided into something like pity. "I hardly thought at all of
+taking the prize. I had another object in view."
+
+"I think I partly guess what that object is," said Mrs. Granger, "and
+if you choose, you shall tell me this evening, when I shall be at
+leisure. Come, Charlotte, I am sure you must regret your hasty words
+and unjust suspicions. Let me see you give your cousin your hand, and
+say so."
+
+"If you think Olive has been perfectly fair, and she says so, Mrs.
+Granger, I am willing to believe it," replied Charlotte, who began, in
+truth, to see that she was not appearing to advantage. "I confess I was
+hasty, Olive," she added, offering her hand. "I hope you will forget
+what I said. No doubt you are perfectly entitled to the prize."
+
+Olive took the hand, and offered a kiss in return, which was accepted,
+and the two cousins went down-stairs, and entered the school-room
+together, with an appearance of more cordiality than was usual with
+them.
+
+Some of the girls were glad to see it, others wondered, and many
+prophesied that it would not last long. In this they were so far
+mistaken, that it lasted all next day, and through the journey home;
+for Charlotte had become more and more sensible that her anger at
+losing the prize would very naturally be attributed to envy at her
+cousin's success, and she had at the bottom of her heart a great
+respect for Olive's good opinion.
+
+Before they left school, Olive had laid open all her plans and desires
+to Mrs. Granger, and received that lady's cordial approval. Mrs.
+Granger furnished her all the assistance in her power towards obtaining
+a situation whenever she should desire it, but strenuously advised her
+to spend another half-year in school, more, she was pleased to say, to
+acquire the routine of school business, than to add to her accomplished
+merits.
+
+
+Owing to a slight accident, the girls did not arrive at home until
+so late an hour of the night that they could think of nothing except
+taking a hearty supper and going directly to bed. The next morning,
+however, the whole subject was brought up by the usual inquiry about
+prizes.
+
+"Olive and I have changed this time," remarked Charlotte, with
+tolerable good humor. "She has carried off the mathematical honors, and
+left the French to me."
+
+"Olive taken the mathematical prizes!" said aunt Rebecca, with evident
+astonishment. "I thought you always reckoned upon that with certainty,
+Charlotte, and I see your French is only second. How does it happen,
+Olive, you have taken such a sudden start?"
+
+"I don't know, aunt, unless it is because I have studied harder than
+usual," replied Olive, coloring a little under her aunt's scrutinising
+glance.
+
+"I suppose you have taken the first French, too," continued Mrs.
+Merton. "Really you have come home covered with honors."
+
+"Maria Grey took the first French," said Abby, who had heretofore been
+occupied in slyly feeding the cat under the table. "Olive has given
+more time to algebra and Latin than to any thing else this term."
+
+"Why was that, Olive?" asked Mrs. Merton, rather sharply.
+
+"Olive has been quite mysterious about the matter," Charlotte remarked,
+unable to resist the temptation to tease her cousin a little. "She
+has assured us that she had another object in view besides the mere
+writing-desk. I believe Mrs. Granger is in the secret, but Abby and
+myself are shut out."
+
+"Speak for yourself," interrupted Abby, gayly. "You think I never can
+know any thing without telling or it, but you are mistaken for once; I
+have known it all along."
+
+"I do not approve of secrets," said Mrs. Merton, looking a good deal
+displeased. "I can not conceive of any good motive Olive could have for
+concealment in this case, I am sure."
+
+"I believe I am in this mighty secret, eh, Olive?" said Mr. Merton,
+smilingly.
+
+"Yes, uncle," replied Olive, glad of her uncle's protection. "You know
+more about it than any one."
+
+Mrs. Merton waited in dignified silence. Mr. Merton helped himself to
+another piece of toast, buttered it, took a hot egg, and breaking it,
+said, quietly:
+
+"The reasons that Olive has been so earnestly devoting herself to
+mathematics this term are, first, that she felt she had neglected
+them before; and secondly, because she has, as I understand, made up
+her mind to engage in teaching, as soon as she leaves school, and she
+justly thinks that this branch is a very important one to her success."
+
+"In teaching!" exclaimed Charlotte.
+
+And then there was an awful silence. Olive dared not look up. She felt
+her aunt's glance of offended majesty fastened upon her. She knew if
+she met it, she should certainly either laugh or cry, and she did not
+want to do either.
+
+Abby's head was down under the table to look after the cat; and if it
+was Minny that mewed, her voice sounded uncommonly like a giggle.
+
+At last Mrs. Merton spoke:
+
+"May I ask, Miss McHenry, what are the motives which have led to
+this extraordinary decision? Do you not consider that you have been
+well-treated in this house?"
+
+"No, aunt," replied Olive, meekly.
+
+"Then, permit me to ask, once more, why you wish to quit us, and
+engage in the occupation of 'teaching?'" with an emphasis upon the
+word, as though Olive had proposed to engage in the occupation of
+street-cleaning.
+
+"Because I do not wish to be dependent any longer, aunt Rebecca,"
+replied Olive at last, in a voice which trembled at first, but which
+gathered firmness as she proceeded. "You have been very kind to me, and
+I have never felt otherwise than grateful for it, but I would, rather
+earn my own living if I can."
+
+"And how long has this precious project been in agitation?"
+
+"I first thought of it at the beginning of last term," replied Olive.
+"I wrote to uncle upon the subject immediately, and as he did not
+disapprove, I considered myself at liberty to entertain the idea."
+
+Mrs. Merton turned to her husband: "Do you mean to say, Mr. Merton,
+that this young lady is aided and abetted by you in this matter?"
+
+"Why, yes; I must say that I thought the idea a good one," replied Mr.
+Merton deliberately. "Olive has talents, and a good education, and if
+she is willing, for the sake of independence, to undergo the labor of
+teaching, she has my full consent to try the experiment, at the same
+time that she knows she is as welcome as possible to stay here, and
+make our house her home for life, or until she gets a home of her own."
+
+"Thank you, uncle," replied Olive warmly.
+
+Mrs. Merton leaned back in her chair. "I have no more to say," she
+remarked in a resigned tone of voice; "I really can say no more. I
+have always feared, from Olive's extreme resemblance to her father,
+that some of his peculiarities might appear in her. But I hoped a good
+education might overcome the advantages of a low origin. I see it was
+in vain."
+
+"Aunt," said Olive, with some indignation in her tone, "you have no
+right to speak so of my father. Whatever may have been his birth, he
+was an honest and honorable man, and deserve nothing but good of any
+one. His losses of property might have come from error in judgment,
+but no one ever accused him of one speck of dishonesty or selfishness.
+My dear mother always spoke of him as the kindest of men; and my own
+recollections of him tell me the same thing. You are welcome to say
+what you please to me, but spare my father's memory."
+
+"You are right, Olive," said her uncle, gravely. "Your father was one
+of the most honorable of men; and if his birth was not high, it was
+honest, and such as no republican need be ashamed of. But we will drop
+this subject for the present. And you, 'my little dunce,'" he added,
+turning round to Abby, "what are you going to do?"
+
+"Stay at home and play for you, uncle," replied Abby, returning her
+uncle's pull of the hair by a most impish pinch. "You don't know how
+much new music I have learned since I was at home last. I took the
+first prize."
+
+"I hope that you, Abby, are going to appreciate the advantages of
+your position sufficiently to remain at home," said aunt Rebecca with
+dignity. "I hope you will display more sense than to go running away
+after some Quixotic idea of independence."
+
+"I am quite ready to stay here as long as you want to keep me, aunt,"
+returned Abby lightly. "It would be nice to be independent, I dare say,
+but it would be quite too much trouble for me."
+
+If the look Charlotte turned upon her cousin was one of contempt,
+it was quite lost upon Abby, who, having fed the cat with all that
+remained upon her own plate, was slyly abstracting morsels from her
+uncle's, when her aunt put a stop to the process by rising from the
+table.
+
+All day long, Mrs. Merton showed her displeasure, by treating Olive
+with marked coldness, and bestowing an extra amount of petting upon
+Abby and Charlotte.
+
+Abby took it very quietly, as she was accustomed to do all her
+aunt's moods, but Charlotte rather withdrew from it. She felt very
+uncomfortably. She could not help being aware, now that there was a
+prospect of losing it, how much she valued Olive's society, and many
+of the expressions which she had been in the habit of using towards
+her cousin came back to her mind with unpleasant force. She respected
+Olive's decision, and felt that, in similar circumstances, she herself
+would have done the same. And yet, this very respect made her feel
+annoyed with herself for according, and with Olive for deserving it.
+
+At last, as they were sitting together in the twilight, Charlotte broke
+out abruptly: "Olive, I am glad you are going away, and yet I am sorry."
+
+"How can you be both?" asked Olive, rousing herself from a reverie.
+
+"I am sorry we are going to lose your society," replied Charlotte. "And
+I am glad you are going to be more pleasantly situated, and that you
+prefer working for yourself to being supported by others."
+
+"I should always have preferred it, if I could have seen my way clear,"
+said Olive, coloring little. "I only hope I may be able at some time to
+repay uncle for what he has spent on my education."
+
+"You need not think of that. I am sure he considers himself more than
+repaid for any thing he has done for you. But we shall all miss you
+very much. I am sure I shall for one."
+
+"I never imagined that," said Olive. "I really supposed you would be
+glad to have me out of the way."
+
+"That is a great mistake," replied Charlotte. "I have always been
+attached to you."
+
+"You have taken a strange way of showing it, I must say," remarked
+Olive, not without some bitterness. "I never could have guessed that
+you had any other feeling for me than dislike and jealousy."
+
+Charlotte colored in her turn. "I can not blame you for thinking so,"
+she said, "and yet it is not true. Jealous I confess I always have
+been, ever since you came here. I was prejudiced against you before,
+and I wanted something to justify me in it; so I tried to believe that
+you were ungrateful, and that you wanted to injure me in my father's
+esteem. But I could not really dislike you, though I tried very hard,
+and though I gave you just cause for disliking me. Come, shall we let
+by-gones be by-gones, and try to have fair play for the future?"
+
+As she spoke, she sat down by Olive, and laid her hand on her shoulder,
+a wonderfully near approach to a caress for her.
+
+"Very willingly, I am sure," replied Olive, returning the movement by
+a much warmer one. "I can not bear to think that any one dislikes me,
+and I have often wished that we could agree better. It will be much
+pleasanter being in school as friends than as foes."
+
+"But I am not to return to school," said Charlotte. "Have you not
+heard? Mother means that Abby and I should stay at home this winter.
+She says we can have music and Italian masters here, and she wants to
+have us go out a little. So if you go back, it will be alone."
+
+"But why Abby?" asked Olive in surprise. "I do not wonder that she
+wants you at home, but certainly Abby would bear a good deal of
+education still, though I fear the poor child will never be a wonderful
+scholar in any thing but music. You must allow, Charlotte, that she
+plays and sings splendidly."
+
+"Better than any one else I ever heard, of her age," replied Charlotte;
+"and that is one reason why mother wants her at home. She says her
+musical talents and graceful manners will make such a sensation that
+it's a shame they should be lost to the world any longer, and besides,"
+she added, laughing, "I suspect she thinks it will be very becoming for
+a fair belle and a dark belle to come out together."
+
+Abby, be it remarked, was brilliantly fair, with an immense profusion
+of wavy hair, of a peculiar paly-gold tint. Charlotte, on the contrary,
+was dark, with a good deal of color, and with hair, eyes, and eyelashes
+all of an intense blackness. Olive was rather pale, inclining to be
+sallow, and her hair, though excellent in quality and quantity, was of
+a dull, unreflecting brown. Her only really beautiful features were
+her eyes, which were of a dark-gray, with long black lashes, and even,
+level eyebrows—a trifle too heavy for the rest of her face. Olive could
+not be called pretty, which might be one reason that she did not stand
+as high in her aunt's favor, as her eminently beautiful sister.
+
+"Does Abby know of this arrangement?" asked Olive.
+
+"I don't know that she does," said Charlotte; "I rather think mother
+has said nothing to her yet; and if I were you, Olive, I would not tell
+her. You know mother likes to have the first notice of her plans come
+from herself; and Abby will never be able to help saying, 'Oh! Yes, I
+knew!'"
+
+"Poor Abby is such a child," said Olive, with something of a sigh. "I
+sometimes feel as though it were wrong to leave her to herself."
+
+"Oh! She will do well enough. You know how fond mother is of her, and
+I suppose you do not doubt that she will take the best care of her."
+Charlotte said this with a little of the old jealousy in her tone.
+
+"Of course I know that," Olive hastened to say, "but I am afraid Abby
+will stand too much in awe of her to confide in her as she does in me.
+But she will not hear of my giving up my plan upon her account, and so
+I can only hope all will be for the best. So it is settled that you are
+not to go back with me. I am afraid I shall be rather lonely, but I
+suppose I may as well get used to it," she added, with something of a
+sigh.
+
+Charlotte pressed her hand, and sighed too. She began to feel that in
+losing Olive, she should lose much more than she had been aware of.
+
+
+Mrs. Merton continued to treat Olive with coldness all the next day,
+but by the morning of the third her face began to relax into its usual
+smiles. She was, in truth, a very kind-hearted woman, and anxious to do
+every thing in her power for her daughter and her nieces. But then she
+wanted to do it exactly in her own way, and to have them mere passive
+recipients of her favors. Any thing like contradiction, or having a
+will of their own, annoyed her extremely. For this reason, Abby had
+always been more her favorite than Olive; for Abby never contradicted
+any body if she could help it. It was too much trouble. Even Charlotte
+did not entirely satisfy her in this respect, for Charlotte was apt
+to have an opinion of her own, and to maintain it stoutly, too. But
+she had always intended to be just to Olive, though she did not
+particularly like her.
+
+We have said, that in a gentle, lady-like way, she was something of a
+match-maker. It was her wish to introduce her into society, under the
+best auspices, and if possible, to settle her in life advantageously.
+That Olive should actually intend to renounce all these privileges,
+and give herself up to the laborious life of a school-teacher, seemed
+incredible, and at first her indignation knew no bounds.
+
+But after calm reflection, she began to see certain alleviating
+circumstances. She honestly regretted that the girl should be so
+blinded to her own interests, but perhaps upon the whole it was just as
+well. It would be much less trouble to bring out two young ladies than
+three. Olive was very difficult to manage sometimes, and she had very
+romantic ideas upon certain subjects. A year's experience of the real
+hardships of life would probably do more towards bringing her to reason
+than all the lectures in the world, and she would be ready to return
+home and behave like a reasonable being, at least so far as could be
+expected from her father's daughter.
+
+So reasoned Mrs. Merton, and by such reasoning, aided by the natural
+kindness of her heart, her wrath cooled apace. She gave Olive her
+formal consent to the plan, accompanying the same with an hour's
+lecture upon the folly of romantic ideas, and the absolute necessity
+of laying them aside, if she meant to succeed in life, concluding
+all with a kiss, and the injunction very kindly given, that she must
+always consider her uncle's house as her home, and an assurance that
+she would ever find it open to her, should she not find her occupation
+of teaching as agreeable as she expected. Olive was very grateful for
+the kindness, and took the lecture in excellent part, and so fair
+weather was once more established throughout the family, greatly to the
+delight of Mr. Merton, who never could endure any thing like a family
+dissension.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER THIRD.
+
+OLIVE'S vacation passed away pleasantly and quickly; she felt that she
+had never before spent one so agreeably.
+
+Charlotte's jealousy seemed almost entirely subdued. She thoroughly
+respected her cousin for her independence, and felt ashamed of the many
+times she had taunted her with her unfortunate circumstances: moreover,
+she began to feel the real value of Olive's society, and now that she
+seemed likely to lose it, she felt a desire to make the most of what
+remained.
+
+Mr. Merton saw, with pleasure, that a warm friendship seemed, at last,
+likely to grow up between his daughter and his favorite niece, and
+encouraged it by every means in his power. Mrs. Merton, who never did
+any thing by halves, exerted all her powers, which were by no means
+small, to make the time pass pleasantly. Rides and drives, short
+journeys and impromptu pic-nics, filled up the time pretty thoroughly.
+And when Olive ventured to remonstrate a little, she received this
+answer:
+
+"You are going to begin a life of hard work, my dear. It is no more
+than right that you should play while you can. And mind, Olive, I will
+not have you spend your vacation in sewing. There will be time enough
+for that when you are away from home."
+
+Upon this kind pretext, aunt Rebecca took the whole charge of Olive's
+clothes. And when she got ready to return to school, she found herself
+furnished with an entirely new and very handsome wardrobe, sufficient
+to last a long time. She remonstrated a little at being so far favored
+above the other girls.
+
+"Your case is very different from theirs, Olive. As I said before, you
+are about entering upon a laborious life, and it is but fair that the
+commencement should be made easy for you. Abby and Charlotte will have
+plenty of time to play, and it would be no kindness to take their work
+out of their hands. Abby, especially, needs to be taught to sew. It is
+a knowledge which can not fail to be useful to her, however she may be
+situated in life."
+
+Olive was fain to acquiesce in this reasoning, though she thought
+that Mrs. Merton would find she had taken upon herself more than she
+imagined, in trying to make Abby work. She well remembered all the
+entreaties and remonstrances, the coaxing and scolding that were
+necessary at school, to make her mend her stockings or keep her dresses
+in any decent order. She took an opportunity to say a few last words to
+her sister upon the subject.
+
+"Do pray, Abby dear, try to keep your clothes in nice order. You know
+how much any slovenliness annoys aunt Rebecca, and I shall not be here
+to pick up your things after you, and take up your stitches for you!"
+
+"Never fear," said Abby, lightly; "I am going to turn over a new leaf
+about that."
+
+"But, Abby, you have turned over so many new leaves which did not seem
+to have any thing on them after all—"
+
+"That you are afraid the whole book will be found to contain nothing
+but blank leaves, after all, eh, sister mine? But I shall arrive at the
+reading by and by, and then see how interesting it will be!"
+
+"Pray what do you mean to have your book turn out?" asked Olive.
+
+   "Perhaps it may turn out a song,
+    Perhaps turn out a sermon,—"
+
+sang Abby, in her skylark tones. "Perhaps a solemn tragedy—who knows?"
+
+Poor Abby! Who knows, indeed!
+
+"And, Abby, one other thing. You know I shall not be here for you
+to tell all your affairs to—and it takes a good while for a letter
+to come and go. Now won't you confide in aunt Rebecca, and take her
+advice about every thing? You know you are apt to be giddy sometimes,"
+said Olive, with the air of one who makes an assertion which may seem
+doubtful to the hearer.
+
+"I did not know I was any thing else," laughed her sister. "I feel
+complimented by that 'some times,' Olive."
+
+"Well, then, if you know that you are giddy, won't you confide in aunt
+Rebecca?"
+
+"Yes, of course, if I can think of any thing to confide. But you had
+better say uncle Merton. I could go to him with a story a great deal
+easier than I could to aunt Rebecca, for all people generally consider
+him so solemn and grave. I wonder why it is?"
+
+"Because he spoils you, and never lectures you for your good, you
+little goose."
+
+"Well, I don't like to be lectured for my good," with a little toss of
+her head, which set her golden curls dancing, so that they seemed to
+emit a light of their own. "It never does me any good, and makes me
+feel more like being cross than any thing else in the world. I don't
+mean you, of course," she added, fearful that she might seem unkind;
+"you never do lecture, you only talk."
+
+"Then, if I only talk, will you mind what I say?"
+
+"Yes, of course, if I can."
+
+"And you will write to me very often, won't you, Abby? You know I shall
+be very lonely without you or Charlotte—"
+
+"Without Charlotte, especially," said Abby, parenthetically.
+
+"I like Charlotte better than I ever did before," said Olive. "But it
+is no trouble for you to write letters, and you will have so much to
+say. You must tell me all about your parties and going out, and all the
+new acquaintances you make. I wish you would keep a journal, and send
+it to me every week."
+
+"Keep a journal, indeed! I would about as soon undertake to keep my
+uncle's books. I never expect to have perseverance enough to keep a
+journal."
+
+"Perhaps it would be a good time to acquire that rather convenient
+quality," suggested Olive.
+
+"Oh! No, I can not engage to keep a journal, but I will write as often
+as you wish to hear from me. Any thing else, my dear little Mentor?"
+
+"Nothing, only—you will be going out a good deal, dear Abby, and
+perhaps you will meet temptations. Pray don't let any thing make
+you forget what we used to learn at our mother's knee when we were
+children."
+
+"I shall never forget that Olive," said Abby, her bright face assuming
+the most serious expression of which it was capable. "It seems as
+though I remembered that more distinctly than any thing else about her.
+And for all you think I am so giddy, (and I know I am,) you never knew
+me forget to say my prayers night and morning."
+
+"That is true," Olive admitted.
+
+"Or laugh or whisper in church, did you?"
+
+"I hope not. To say nothing of any higher motive, I do not believe you
+would ever do any thing so entirely vulgar and ill-bred."
+
+"Well, Olive, I can tell you that I saw our very superfine aunt Dimsden
+and our very superfiner sister Laura, talking to the very super-finest
+Miss Eaton in service-time, at St. David's, last Sunday evening, and I
+know Dr. Eastman saw them, too, for he looked straight at them."
+
+Olive laughed. "Do you know what aunt Rebecca thinks of aunt Dimsden,
+Abby?"
+
+"Oh! Yes, I know. They are a pair of affectionate sisters-in-law,
+are they not? But I thought Laura ought to know better. I really was
+mortified for her."
+
+"I am glad I did not see her," said Olive. "I don't think Laura has
+improved at all the last year, Abby."
+
+"How can she improve, living as she does? Aunt Dimsden thinks of
+nothing but having a place in society, and making as much parade as she
+can, upon as small means. I believe her Bible reads, 'Whether ye eat,
+or drink, or whatever ye do, do all for a social position.'"
+
+Olive shook her head reprovingly, but she could not help admitting the
+truth of what Abby said. "I am sure you will admit, Abby, that it might
+have been better for Laura, if she had always had the prospect before
+her of being obliged to earn her own living. It really makes me unhappy
+to think what sort of a woman she is likely to become."
+
+"There is no use in making yourself unhappy about it, Olive; Laura
+likes it."
+
+"So much the worse for her."
+
+"And aunt Dimsden pretends to be a religious woman too," said Abby,
+thoughtfully. "How is it, Olive, that she says the same prayers and
+creed that we do, and that Mrs. Eastman and Mrs. Addiston do, and yet
+makes dress and company and outside show her chief objects?"
+
+"I don't know," answered Olive, with a deep sigh; "I don't want to
+judge her, but I think such people do a great deal more mischief than
+they think for."
+
+"Aunt Rebecca does not seem to bestow nearly as much thought and pains
+upon her dress and so on," continued Abby, "and yet she is always
+well-dressed, and appears like a lady, while Aunt Dimsden—" Abby paused.
+
+"Aunt Rebecca would not do any thing mean for the sake of what aunt
+Dimsden calls society," said Olive. "She would never run after or court
+any one she did not respect, or slight any one who had been kind to
+her, however vulgar the person might be."
+
+"She has no need of doing so," replied Abby. "She has plenty of such
+society as she likes without it. Sometimes I wonder, Olive, how such
+people as Miss Eaton, and—and others would act if there came up another
+persecution for the sake of Christianity."
+
+"There is no telling," said Olive; "they might be as firm and resolute
+in dying for their faith as any one at all. They might realize then
+that faith is a real true thing, and not a fashion."
+
+"I think if Miss Eaton should be burned alive, aunt Dimsden and Laura
+would go to the stake without flinching," said Abby, laughing.
+
+"Poor Laura!" sighed Olive.
+
+"Well, I know; I feel very sorry about her, too, and I wish things were
+different, but I can not make them so, and what is the use of fretting?
+I should rather be in your place than hers. But I don't want to be in
+either so long as I can stay as I am."
+
+And so the conversation ended, not very satisfactorily in all points
+to Olive, but more so, upon the whole, than such conversations between
+herself and her sister usually did. About Laura she felt less anxiety
+and no responsibility. They had been very much separated from early
+childhood, Laura having been adopted by Mrs. Dimsden immediately after
+her father's death—and their dispositions were entirely different.
+Laura, with all her apparent amiability, was too selfish to be very
+lovable.
+
+They had been educated upon very different plans, and their whole
+system of ideas and theory of life were entirely dissimilar. Mrs.
+Merton thought Mrs. Dimsden a very vulgar woman: Mrs. Dimsden thought
+Mrs. Merton proud, set up, and disagreeable, at the same time that she
+courted her society, and made the most in all her conversation of the
+small degree of intimacy existed between them. Mrs. Dimsden talked of
+dear Rebecca and my sister Rebecca, and quoted her sayings and doings
+upon all occasions; while Mrs. Merton always spoke with great respect
+of Mrs. Dimsden, and treated her with as much distance as she could
+reconcile it to her conscience to assume towards the widow of her
+husband's half-brother. Mrs. Merton, in fact, though a very proud, and
+somewhat worldly woman, was neither mean nor vulgar, while Mrs. Dimsden
+was both.
+
+Mrs. Merton, though she liked to see her young friends married and
+settled in life, and thought any romantic ideas of love and spiritual
+affinity very much out of place, would yet have scorned the idea of
+going out of her way to attract or entice gentlemen. While Mrs. Dimsden
+avowedly considered getting married the principal object in the life
+of woman—the very thing for which she was made, and failing which, she
+must necessarily miss the great object of existence. In this belief
+she devoted all her energies to marrying off whatever young lady might
+be under her charge for the time being. People laughed at her, but she
+carried her point; and having provided for her younger sisters and
+cousins, she was intent upon making a match for Laura—a match which
+should exceed all others in brilliancy and cause her sister-in-law to
+hide her diminished head.
+
+Laura, on her part, fell in very well with all her aunt's schemes on
+her behalf. She was quite as beautiful as Abby, and almost as devoid
+of serious thought. But there was this difference, that while Abby had
+a kind and warm heart, and for the sake of any one she loved would
+sacrifice almost any thing, Laura, under a veil of amiable manners,
+was very selfish, and seldom bestowed a thought upon any one's peace
+or comfort except her own. She did not care for books except just so
+far as they could minister gracefully to her love of display, and she
+valued music and drawing upon the same grounds. In fact, she lived only
+upon the outside, and if she had a heart, she had never found it out,
+and was not very likely to do so under the tuition of aunt Dimsden. She
+liked Olive as well as she could like any body; she envied Abby her
+musical talent, and thought her much more reasonable than Olive. This
+last plan especially, she looked upon as preposterous to a degree.
+
+"But Olive," she remarked sweetly, "had always been a strange,
+unaccountable creature, and there was no use in distressing one's self
+about her freaks."
+
+Aunt Dimsden said she had given that up long ago, but at the same time
+she gave Olive some friendly advice as to marrying a minister or a
+professional man—a thing, she observed, which teachers are very apt to
+do.
+
+
+Olive's last term in school was a very pleasant one. Her friend, Helen
+Monteith, was still there, and some others of her particular set; and
+there were several of the new girls whom she liked very much. She
+was very busy, for besides her regular business, she spent a good
+deal of time in learning what Mrs. Granger called the theory and
+practice of teaching, by hearing classes, assisting the younger girls
+in their lessons, and helping Miss Lincoln to correct compositions
+and exercises. She was surprised to find what an amount of labor was
+required in that department alone, and how little, after all this
+labor, certain of the girls contrived to learn.
+
+"It reminds me," she said, upon one occasion, "of an old proverb I have
+heard many repeat,—That one man may lead a horse to water, but twenty
+men can not make him drink."
+
+"And yet the poor teacher is blamed for not making him drink," replied
+Miss Lincoln.
+
+"Yes. Many people can never be brought to acknowledge that their own
+children and their own management at home is in fault. What is one to
+do in that case?"
+
+"Have patience," said the teacher, sighing: "I know of nothing else.
+But I think one great reason why scholars, especially girls, learn so
+little, is from the want of any adequate motive."
+
+"One would think the mere pleasure of knowing ought to be enough," said
+Olive.
+
+"Not with children. They have not knowledge enough to appreciate the
+value of more."
+
+"But most of the girls here are not children, Miss Lincoln. There are
+very few under fourteen years old."
+
+"True," replied Miss Lincoln, "but think how ignorant many of them are
+when they come, and when they go away, for that matter."
+
+"What motive would you propose, then?"
+
+"Why, they are several. One is, as you say, the desire of knowledge,
+but every one can not appreciate that. The next best is the desire of
+usefulness, and the best of all is the religious motive, which includes
+the others; 'Whether ye eat or drink, or whatever ye do, do all to the
+glory of God.'"
+
+"But I think, Miss Lincoln, it is much easier to acquire knowledge with
+the idea of turning it to some account, besides the mere enjoyment of
+it one's self," said Olive; "I am sure I have studied much better this
+term than ever I did before. I never go over a single lesson without
+thinking, 'Now, how should I explain this, if I were called upon to
+teach it?' And I find my ideas much clearer for the process."
+
+"Yes, you learn to analyze, and to see clearly what you know, and what
+you do not know."
+
+"I have heard teachers say that it was very difficult to study while
+engaged in school," remarked Olive.
+
+"It is so," admitted Miss Lincoln; with a sigh. "Their powers of mind
+and body are generally so over-taxed in their school duties that they
+are glad to rest themselves as thoroughly as possible when they are out
+of the school-room. Some are stronger than others, and some schools are
+better supplied with assistants, but as a rule, teachers, especially in
+the smaller schools, are very much over-taxed."
+
+Olive sighed. "Not a very pleasant prospect for me," she said.
+
+"It is part of the price one must be content to pay for independence
+and usefulness," replied Miss Lincoln. "But some teachers are much
+more favorably situated than others in that respect. In this house,
+for instance, we should be very ungrateful if we complained. The only
+over-worked person in the establishment is Mrs. Granger."
+
+"But, Miss Lincoln, think how many men have studied law and medicine,
+and even divinity, while teaching."
+
+"Oh! Yes, I know it. There are many honorable exceptions, even
+among women. I studied chemistry myself, while I was teaching in a
+district-school."
+
+
+Olive had anticipated one thing, in which she was pleasantly
+disappointed. She had supposed a good many of the girls would look
+down upon her, when they learned that she was to be dependent upon
+her own resources. But in this she found herself mistaken. Girls in a
+large school are apt to be very thorough democrats, and if there is an
+aristocracy, it is almost always one of talent and personal influence.
+Of this aristocracy, Olive had always been a prominent member, and
+she did not find her position at all changed. Her equals treated her
+with the same consideration to which she had always been accustomed,
+and with the younger girls, her influence was increased rather than
+diminished, from the fact that she sometimes heard their lessons, or
+assisted them in their exercises.
+
+Still there were some few who took it upon them to pity her extremely,
+and among the number were Miss Lucretia Monroe, and her friend, Miss
+Jane Douglass, who had long enjoyed the proud preëminence of being
+the greatest dunces in the school. Either of these young ladies could
+miss question after question at a public examination with the greatest
+coolness; they cared nothing for prizes, to which, indeed, they never
+aspired. And they never considered themselves disgraced by being found
+out in any scrape whatever. Of course, they were not held in any high
+estimation by the aristocracy aforesaid. But, secure in the depths
+of their ignorance, they did not feel themselves in the slightest
+degree disturbed, by the not always concealed contempt of Misses Grey,
+Monteith, McHenry, and company.
+
+"Poor Olive!" said Lucretia one day to Maria Grey, with a sweet air of
+amiability. "How much I pity her!"
+
+"Do you?" said Maria, carelessly. "I dare say she would be very much
+obliged to you if she knew it."
+
+"Yes, because she has got to teach for a living," continued Miss
+Monroe, elegantly. "I don't know what I should do if I were so reduced."
+
+"I don't know what you would, I am sure," returned Maria. "You would
+be in a bad case certainly; I can not think of any thing you could
+possibly teach."
+
+"You need not snap one up so, Maria. I do not expect to be a
+school-ma'am myself, and my papa never intended I should be educated
+for one. But any way, I am sorry for Olive, and I shall make a point of
+noticing her just as much as ever."
+
+"'You' notice Olive McHenry!" exclaimed Maria Grey. "Upon my word,
+Miss Monroe, you are sublime in the extreme of your impertinence. Why,
+child, it is an honor to you, that she sometimes condescends to help
+you out of a scrape, when every one else is tired of you. The idea of
+your presuming to pity Olive McHenry, because she prefers independence
+gained by her own exertions, to idleness and uselessness! You would do
+much better if you would exert yourself to imitate her a little."
+
+Nevertheless, Miss Monroe persisted in her charitable intentions, and
+proceeded to bestow a good deal of her society upon Olive, who could
+not help wondering what in the world had come over her.
+
+She asked Maria one day. "She comes to my room, till I am tempted
+sometimes to tell her that I would rather have it to myself, and she
+seems to miss no opportunity of talking with me."
+
+"Don't you understand it?" replied Maria, laughing. "She is pitying you
+for your hard fate. She told me that she was sorry for you, and meant
+to notice you as much as she could."
+
+"I wish she would show her pity in some other way than by bestowing her
+society upon me," said Olive. "It becomes rather fatiguing, besides
+taking up a good deal of valuable time, which I don't very well know
+how to spare."
+
+"Why don't you tell her so?"
+
+"Oh! I don't want to make an enemy of the girl. Dunce as she is, it is
+better to have her good-will than her ill-will, and perhaps I may do
+her some good."
+
+"The idea of doing good to Lucretia Monroe! You would be a good person
+to head a crusade, Olive; nothing short of a physical impossibility
+would stop you. But there is no harm in trying."
+
+Indeed, Olive made a good many efforts to induce Lucretia to leave
+off abstracting cakes and cheese from the table, and pickles from the
+storeroom, and to give a little more time to her books. In which she
+succeeded so far that Miss Monroe actually presented herself at the
+class with a perfect lesson thrice in one week, to the amazement of all
+who heard her, and passed three days without breaking a single rule.
+
+We regret to be obliged to add, that the improvement was not permanent:
+Miss Monroe relapsed into her old habits in the course of a week or
+two, and at the end of the year, left school as great a dunce as she
+entered it. Her father, a sensible, plain man, who had never received
+any thing but a district-school education, felt very much disappointed
+at the small improvement made by his daughter, and was much disposed to
+lay the blame upon her own idleness and want of principle.
+
+But his wife informed him that it was solely the fault of the teachers,
+who had not made study interesting to Lucretia. Miss Monroe had been
+allowed to study what she liked, and to leave off as soon as she came
+to a hard place. In this way, she had acquired a little music, a little
+drawing, and less French; and she had learned to spell correctly, and
+to express herself in tolerable English, because no scholar who had
+been at Mrs. Granger's two years could very well help it. But history,
+natural science, and general literature, had passed through her mind
+like water through a sieve, leaving her no wiser.
+
+With her daughter's want of proficiency in drawing, Mrs. Monroe was
+really annoyed, especially as their neighbor, and Lucretia's old friend
+and playmate, Miss Thorn, who had taken lessons of a professor in the
+place, had been able to decorate her mother's back-parlor with a great
+number of showy drawings in colored chalks, after only a quarter's
+instruction. To be sure, Miss Thorn never could do any thing after she
+left off taking lessons. And when she attempted, at home, and without
+assistance, to copy a portrait of her father, no one could have told
+whether the object produced was intended for male or female. But the
+pictures done under the eye of Professor B. were much more brilliant
+than the portfolio of pen and ink studies and crayon drawings, which
+was all that Lucretia had to show; and, while being entirely her own
+workmanship, certainly displayed less skill than Miss Thorn's, which
+had all been "touched up" by the accommodating professor.
+
+
+For many weeks, Abby's letters came regularly, and were very
+interesting, giving full and most graphic accounts of the various
+parties, concerts, etc., which she attended under the chaperonage of
+aunt Rebecca. And many a laugh did Olive and her friends have over her
+descriptions and pen and ink sketches of the people she met in company,
+and at her aunt's house.
+
+Charlotte wrote sometimes, but not very often. She did not seem to
+enjoy going into the world as much as her cousin, and said she often
+wished herself back at Mrs. Granger's. She spoke frequently of the
+attentions Abby received, and the admiration excited by her musical
+talents.
+
+After a time, Abby's letters grew shorter, and less frequent. She
+did not seem to be quite as contented, and spoke rather pettishly of
+the constant watchfulness of her aunt, who, she said, treated her as
+though she were a baby. At one time, she seemed to be the happiest
+person possible, and perhaps her next letter would be a commentary
+upon the Arabic song quoted by Dumas—"The earth is vanity, and all in
+it is misery." Such extremes had never been common with Abby, whose
+cheerfulness was usually a steady stream, subject neither to drought
+nor freshet.
+
+Olive became quite uneasy, and began to long for the time to come when
+she should be at home again. One thing, however, comforted her. Mrs.
+Merton was not a very great letter writer, but she wrote to Olive three
+or four times in the course of the term, and in neither of her letters
+did she express any disapprobation of Abby, nor did she seem aware of
+any change in her spirits or temper. This was quite a consolation, for
+aunt Rebecca was tolerably clear-sighted, and Olive thought if any
+thing had been wrong in Abby's conduct, she would have been pretty apt
+to speak of it.
+
+Still, she was very glad when the time came for her to go home. An
+excellent situation had been procured for her by the kindness of
+Mrs. Granger, whose good offices to her pupils extended far beyond
+their school-days. She was to take charge of the female department
+of a school in Pennsylvania, which had long maintained an excellent
+reputation. The salary was to be five hundred dollars, and as much more
+as she chose to make by music and drawing lessons. She was to have an
+assistant, if she wished it, and the entire control of matters in her
+own department rested with her.
+
+At first, Olive shrunk from assuming so much responsibility, and
+almost wanted to decline, but Mrs. Granger was very anxious that she
+should secure the place, and her uncle and aunt, to whom the plan was
+communicated, approved it highly: so she was fain to accept, though
+with a good many misgivings. Once decided, however, the prospect seemed
+to brighten; she began to look upon Basswoods as her future home, and
+built some castles in the air (even the most practical people erect
+such edifices sometimes) upon the little round dot which represented
+that place upon the map of Pennsylvania.
+
+Olive felt very sadly at leaving school for the last time. She had been
+there so long, that it seemed more like home to her than her uncle's
+house. She had never experienced any thing but kindness from Mrs.
+Granger, or any of her subordinates. With her pleasant little room in
+the third story were associated all the great experiences of her young
+life, since her mother's death. Here she had taken her first peep into
+the boundless wealth of foreign literature, written her first verses,
+and sketched her first cottage. Here, too, she had experienced her
+first deep religious feelings, and here she had found that pearl of
+great price, which is not far from every one of us, though we pass it
+by again and again, without seeing it.
+
+Moreover, Olive had many warm, and some deeply-attached friends,
+among the school-girls. It is very much the fashion to sneer at
+school-girl attachments, and the author has heard a popular lecturer
+declare that there never had existed, and never could exist, any such
+thing as female friendship. Possibly, the gentleman was not very well
+read in Scripture history, for he might have remembered the story of
+Ruth and Naomi. We have known intimacies formed at school which have
+continued through many and severe changes, and one case, where a close
+correspondence was continued through thirty years, the parties meeting
+only twice or thrice during the time.
+
+There is often in the friendship of two cultivated and religious young
+women a simplicity and truthfulness—a disinterested admiration of each
+other's good qualities, and an unfeigned rejoicing in each other's good
+fortune, which it is pleasant to look upon. As for the assertion that
+women can not endure to hear each other praised, we leave such shallow
+sneers to boys with their first tail-coats, and brainless young men,
+who have nothing manly about them but a budding moustache.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER FOURTH.
+
+OLIVE arrived at home about seven in the evening, much wearied with
+her journey, and very glad to find herself once more with her friend.
+Abby seemed just as usual; she danced and clapped her hands, and danced
+around her, as much like a child as ever. Still Olive could not help
+fancying, as she looked at her, that there was a change—she could not
+exactly tell how.
+
+There was a shade of womanliness, and even care, upon her bright face,
+which had never belonged there, and which Olive could not help feeling
+sorry to see. She said to herself that Abby was getting on in life—it
+was time for her to grow grave and womanly, perhaps. But she felt that
+she would rather have her remain what she always had been—a happy and
+careless child.
+
+But Abby talked so fast, and Charlotte had so many questions to ask,
+that she soon forgot her anxiety in giving and receiving information
+about school-mates and teachers, friends and neighbors, in answering
+aunt Rebecca's searching interrogatories about the place where she was
+going, and in the enjoyment of that delightful feeling of home and
+comfort which one always feels on returning after even a short absence.
+
+Olive thought that Charlotte was rather pale and thin, and that she
+seemed grave and somewhat subdued. But Charlotte laughed at the idea of
+her being unwell, saying that she was only tired of going out, and she
+was glad the visiting season had almost come to a close.
+
+"That is very ungrateful of you, Charlotte," said Abby. "Is it not,
+aunt Rebecca?"
+
+"Why is it ungrateful?" asked Charlotte, rather sharply.
+
+"Because you have received so much attention, and so many pretty
+compliments. I'll tell you, Olive, what Major Trimble said—"
+
+"Major Trimble is an old goose, and you are not much better for
+troubling yourself to repeat his nonsense," interrupted Charlotte.
+
+"Charlotte, Charlotte, for shame!" remonstrated Mrs. Merton. "How can
+you speak so of Major Trimble? He is a most excellent and respectable
+man."
+
+"Mother, you laugh at him, yourself! Did you not have to go out of the
+room when he talked about the comedies of Dante, the great Roman poet,
+to Professor L.?"
+
+"And engrossed all the conversation, so that Mr. L. could not say a
+word, though every one in the room was anxious to hear him," pursued
+Abby. "You know, aunt Rebecca, every one laughs at poor Major Trimble."
+
+"Mr. Trimble is a very respectable man," repeated aunt Rebecca, "and it
+is wrong and unladylike to call any one an old goose."
+
+"Well, I will not call him any thing, if Abby will leave off quoting
+him."
+
+"I will not quote him if I can help it, Charlotte," said Abby,
+laughing; "but it is a great temptation. You do look so magnificent
+when you hear him mentioned."
+
+"Come, girls," interposed Mrs. Merton, "you are keeping Olive up quite
+too late, considering that she has been riding all day. To rest, to
+rest, my children. You have eight weeks at least, of uninterrupted
+conversation before you, and can well afford to spare a few hours. And
+remember, Olive and Abby, no talking after you get to bed," she added,
+in her kindly authoritative tone.
+
+Olive was very glad to obey the command, for she was very tired and had
+a bad headache.
+
+She slept late the next morning, and breakfast was entirely over when
+she appeared, Mrs. Merton kindly excusing her by saying that it must be
+quite luxury for her to lie in bed for once. Mrs. Merton had no spite
+in her disposition. She never would say that approved of Olive's plans,
+and she heartily wished they had never entered her head. But now the
+matter was settled and could not be helped, she was above making her
+niece in any way uncomfortable on account of it.
+
+
+The day was passed in unpacking and arranging, and in receiving
+company; for aunt Dimsden and Laura came over in the morning, and Mrs.
+Merton invited them to spend the day. Laura was even more affable
+and graceful than usual, but she seemed more than ever taken up with
+dress and company, and the admiration she had received. The same
+Major Trimble, whom Charlotte and Abby ridiculed so unmercifully, was
+apparently quite an oracle with her; and she indignantly repelled
+the idea that he was tiresome, declaring that she hated people like
+Professor L., who were always talking about such "grand things."
+
+"What grand things?" asked Olive.
+
+"Why Shakspeare and Dante, and—"
+
+"Yes, Dante, the great Roman poet," interrupted Abby, but the joke was
+lost upon Laura, who continued, quite jealous in the defense:
+
+"I am sure he knows as much as William Forester, and you are never
+weary of having him hanging about you, Abby."
+
+"William Forester," exclaimed Abby, coloring: "William Forester's
+little finger knows more than Major Trimble thinks he does."
+
+"That is saying a great deal, Abby," said Charlotte, gravely.
+
+"What nonsense, Abby! Mr. Forester is well enough, but he is nothing
+remarkable, and he is as poor as poverty, besides being a coxcomb."
+
+"I admire the elegance of your expressions, Miss Dimsden," said
+Charlotte, sarcastically. "I think both gentlemen would be flattered by
+what you say about them, if they knew it."
+
+"You need not be so grand, Charlotte, you talk about people yourself."
+
+"Not about young gentlemen," returned Charlotte.
+
+"Well, now, isn't young Forester a coxcomb?" persisted Laura.
+
+"No," said Abby, emphatically, "he is not a coxcomb, Laura, but a true
+gentleman, in every sense of the term. You have no more right to call
+him a coxcomb than he has to call you a coquette."
+
+"Not quite so much, possibly," said Laura, significantly; "men are very
+apt to call women coquettes, who refuse them, you know!"
+
+"Do you mean to say, Laura McHenry, that you refused William Forester?"
+asked Abby, with crimson cheeks and flashing eyes.
+
+"In the first place, my name is not Laura McHenry, but Laura Dimsden,
+my dear; and secondly, it does not concern you whether I refused him or
+not. You know Mrs. Merton says there is nothing more unladylike than
+for a woman to tell of a refusal."
+
+"And she is right," interrupted Olive, "whether she tells it out and
+out, or only implies it."
+
+"And besides, Abby," continued Laura, disregarding the interruption,
+"if you are so warm in his defense, people will really begin to believe
+what they say about you."
+
+"What do they say?" asked Abby, but Charlotte interposed:
+
+"Do pray leave the gentlemen to themselves. I am sure we have heard
+enough of them, and I want you to hear Olive and Abby play that duet
+from Mendelssohn."
+
+Laura muttered something about stupid, old-fashioned music, but she
+was, in her heart, rather afraid of pushing matters to extremities with
+her cousin; for though she herself excelled in light skirmishing, yet
+in a regular engagement, Charlotte was sure to conquer.
+
+Abby's hand trembled, and, she made more than one mistake, a thing very
+unusual with her.
+
+At every one Laura smiled significantly, and Charlotte looked as though
+she would like to box Miss Dimsden's ears. They kept up a regular
+snip-snap all day, and Olive was not sorry when the arrival of company
+from out of town, called Mrs. Dimsden and her adopted daughter home
+before tea. She could not help fearing that something was wrong with
+Abby, and she longed to find out what it was, but there seemed to be no
+opportunity. The parlor was full of company all the evening. They were
+up quite late, and Abby did not seem inclined for conversation after
+they retired to their own room.
+
+
+The next evening, as the girls were busily engaged over some new books
+in the garden-arbor, Olive suddenly felt Abby start. She looked up in
+surprise, and saw a tall, handsome young gentleman approaching them.
+
+Abby at first seemed inclined to go to meet him, but checked herself
+and waiting till he came up, introduced him to her sister as Mr.
+Forester.
+
+He bowed politely, offered his hand to Charlotte, and seating himself
+without farther ceremony, he took up one of the books, and entered into
+conversation about it with graceful ease. He was unquestionably a very
+handsome man, though there was a certain want of strength and firmness
+about his mouth, which showed itself especially when he spoke, through
+his well-trimmed and handsome beard.
+
+Charlotte did not seem to like him very particularly, and they
+disagreed rather sharply several times, Mr. Forester sustaining his
+opinion politely and well, despite the keenness of his opponent's wit.
+
+There was nothing to find fault with, in what he said, and yet Olive
+noticed a lightness—a want of earnestness—which did not please her.
+
+Abby seemed at first constrained and uncomfortable, but the feeling
+wore off apparently, and she was soon talking and laughing more merrily
+than Olive had yet heard her.
+
+When they went into the house, singing and playing took the place of
+conversation, and Mr. Forester joined a fine and cultivated voice to
+those of the girls. It came out incidentally, that he drew and painted,
+and he was evidently quite at home in foreign literature. Other
+gentlemen coming in, he devoted himself exclusively to Abby.
+
+Olive thought her uncle did not seem to look upon him with any
+particular favor. When he had taken his departure, and the girls were
+alone together, Abby, after sundry unfinished sentences, asked Olive
+what she thought of Mr. Forester.
+
+"Why, I hardly know," said Olive. "I should have to see more of him
+before I could decide."
+
+"But you must admit that he is very agreeable!"
+
+"Oh! Yes, very pleasant, and well-bred, and all that, but—"
+
+"But what?" asked Abby impatiently.
+
+"I hardly know what. As I said, I do not know enough of him to form any
+judgment about him."
+
+"I don't believe he ever offered himself to Laura, at any rate," said
+Abby after a pause, during which she had curled and uncurled her hair
+several times.
+
+"That is nothing if he did. It is no disgrace to a man to be refused."
+
+"No, but—"
+
+"But what?" asked Olive, in her turn.
+
+"Nothing as regards him, but if you were engaged to a man, you would
+not like to know that he had offered himself to any one else first."
+
+"I do not think it would be pleasant, perhaps," said Olive, "but I do
+not see why you should have called Laura so sharply to account for what
+she said. To be sure it was not a very wise or lady-like speech, but
+from the way you took it up, any one might think you were personally
+interested in the matter. I would be more careful if I were you,
+especially before Aunt Dimsden."
+
+"There it is!" exclaimed Abby, petulantly. "Lectures, nothing but
+lectures, from morning till night. I do wonder whether I am such a fool
+as every one seems to believe me. If I am, I think it is a pity I could
+not die at once and be out of the way."
+
+"Abby!" exclaimed Olive, perfectly astonished. In all her experience,
+she had never before such an outbreak from her sister.
+
+"I thought when you came home, you would have a little patience with
+me, and treat me kindly," continued Abby, beginning to cry. "It is bad
+enough to be watched by Aunt Rebecca, and checked and interfered with
+by Charlotte, without your joining in. I—" But Abby's voice became
+quite lost in her hysterical sobs.
+
+Olive tried her best to quiet her, and to persuade her to tell what was
+the matter, but in vain.
+
+For though her ill-humor seemed to dissolve with her tears, and she
+embraced and kissed her sister warmly, she still wept, and at last
+cried herself to sleep.
+
+
+Next morning, the cloud seemed to have passed away, and Abby was as gay
+and cheerful as ever, lavishing all sorts of caresses on her sister, as
+though trying to make her forget the scene of the night before.
+
+But Olive could not forget. It was so very different from Abby's usual
+habits—so utterly foreign to any thing she had ever known of her—that
+she was completely puzzled.
+
+The next day was Sunday, and according to the inflexible rule of Mr.
+Merton's household, they all went to church, both morning and evening.
+Mr. Forester sat directly behind them at the latter service, and walked
+home with them, or rather with Abby, for they lagged so far behind that
+Aunt Rebecca twice stopped and waited for them to come up.
+
+Monday evening, they were at a small party, together, and on Tuesday
+he called again. Olive was beginning to like him better. She thought
+him very modest and unaffected, and quite took herself to task for her
+first prejudice against him. She improved an opportunity one day, when
+they were alone together, to ask Charlotte about him.
+
+"Who is he, and where did he come from? What are his antecedents, and
+what does he do with himself?"
+
+"He is Mr. William Forester, and he comes from H. His antecedents
+are Mr. and Mrs. Jackson Forester who were old acquaintances of my
+father's, and very nice people, I believe," was Charlotte's cunning
+reply.
+
+"Very satisfactory thus far," said Olive, smiling, "but you have not
+answered the most important of all. What does he do with his time?"
+
+"He amuses himself, and entertains other people."
+
+"And is that all? I should think at his age, he ought to be doing
+something more profitable."
+
+"A good many people think so," said Charlotte, "and my father among
+the number. I believe, to do the young man justice, he does pretend to
+study law, but I do not know when he accomplishes it. He is always busy
+with some picture or translation, or getting up an amateur concert,
+or a military display, not to mention the hours he spends in dangling
+after different young ladies—Abby, for instance."
+
+"Has he been long attentive to Abby?" asked Olive, glad that her cousin
+had introduced the subject.
+
+"Why, yes, for three months perhaps. Before that, he was quite devoted
+to Laura. You heard what she said about refusing him."
+
+"Yes. I did not know what to think about it."
+
+"It is like enough to be true. She would certainly refuse him if he
+did offer himself, for she is bent upon marrying a rich man. William
+has about five or six thousand of his own, so he is not what one would
+call poor, but that is not enough to meet her views. I wish her would
+not come here quite so much, for I do not think either father or mother
+like him very well, and mother thinks it would be a disadvantage to
+Abby to have any idle story set afloat."
+
+"But you do not think," said Olive alarmed, "that there is any
+thing—any engagement between them?"
+
+"Oh! No!" replied Charlotte. "Abby is giddy enough sometimes, but I
+can not think she would enter into any engagement without father's
+knowledge and consent. I hope not, I am sure, for I fear he would never
+forgive her. But if I may speak quite plainly, Olive?"
+
+"Of course. That is just what I want."
+
+"I am afraid Abby likes him."
+
+"I have thought so myself sometimes," said Olive, after a moment's
+painful thought, "but I can hardly believe it. She has always been so
+perfectly open with me, and so ready to tell me every feeling that I
+can not think she would conceal this," she concluded, thereby betraying
+the very small amount of her knowledge of human nature.
+
+"Perhaps I am mistaken: I hope I am," said Charlotte, kindly. "I am not
+very good at observing and watching people."
+
+"Do you think your mother notices Mr. Forester's attentions to Abby?"
+asked Olive, after another pause.
+
+"Sometimes I have thought she did," said Charlotte. "She never seems
+very well pleased at his coming here. I know my father thinks him idle
+and trifling, a character with which, you know, he has very little
+patience. I hope Abby does not care for him, for I do not believe he
+has any stability of character, and that is something which she, of all
+people, needs in a husband."
+
+"She is so young, too. I do hope she has no such idea."
+
+"If you have any influence with her, Olive, pray persuade her to
+be open with my father. You know nothing annoys him so much as any
+concealment. But do not worry yourself; we may be entirely mistaken,
+you know. It seems rather odd, does it not," she added, smiling, "that
+we should be taking counsel together about her affairs? Do you remember
+how we used to quarrel in school?"
+
+"No, I have been forgetting it as fast as possible," replied Olive. "I
+think the fault was, perhaps, as much mine as yours."
+
+"You are very charitable to think so, but I can not agree with you. I
+was too unboundedly provoking. I have been angry with myself, many a
+time since, to think how I used to insult you."
+
+"Do not let us talk of it," said Olive; "it is one of the things that
+is past and gone. After all, Charlotte, school-days are pleasant days.
+I don't believe we shall ever be much happier than we were at Mrs.
+Granger's."
+
+"I do not believe I shall ever be so happy again," replied Charlotte,
+with a sigh. "I have wished myself back there twenty times a week, this
+winter. When I was in school, I had an object. Every morning I thought,
+now here is just so much to be accomplished before night. Almost all my
+duties were such as I had pleasure in, and at night I would look back
+and think that I had really brought something to pass."
+
+"Yes, that is very pleasant," said Olive. "But can not you do so now?"
+
+"No," replied Charlotte, abruptly.
+
+"Excuse me, but I do not see why."
+
+"You would see why, if you would consider. Just think how it has been
+since you came home. Nothing but going out, or having company at home,
+day after day, and night after night, and what does it amount to?"
+
+"I think it is pleasant enough for a little while," said Olive. "I have
+really enjoyed myself very much, since I came home this time."
+
+"Yes, because you have been hard at work all winter, and need
+recreation. But you would not enjoy it to go on so, day after day, and
+week after week, without seeming to bring a single thing to pass. I
+should really enjoy going back to school, and timing my employments by
+the bell and the hour-glass again."
+
+"But it seems to me—I do not know by experience, to be sure—that you
+might contrive to do something more than that, Charlotte. You might
+study a good deal."
+
+"When?"
+
+"You know no one calls here before twelve o'clock. You might be
+tolerably certain of having the time to yourself from half-past eight
+to eleven."
+
+"But supposing I should, what could I accomplish in that time?" asked
+Charlotte, half-incredulously, but with an appearance of considerable
+interest.
+
+"A great deal, I think," replied Olive. "You never gave as much time
+as that to any one lesson in school. Suppose you undertake some new
+language, Greek, for instance, which you were always desirous of
+learning. I think you could easily get a teacher, if you wanted one. If
+you would give two hours a day to that, and the other hour, when you
+had it to spare, to natural history or chemistry, I think you would
+find at the end of the year that you had accomplished a good deal."
+
+"It looks very pretty," said Charlotte, "but I am afraid it would not
+work very well. I should be liable to so many interruptions. There is
+always shopping and sewing to be done and a hundred things to break up
+one's plans."
+
+"Well, then, when it is necessary, you must be content to give way for
+a little, and begin again. Half a loaf is better than no bread, as the
+proverb says."
+
+"Lord Chesterfield says it is vulgar to use proverbs," observed
+Charlotte.
+
+"It is very convenient," returned Olive, laughing.
+
+"And besides, I don't believe I should ever have perseverance enough
+to carry out such a plan, without some one to make me," continued
+Charlotte.
+
+"'Lead thine own captivity captive, and be Caesar unto thyself.' There
+is a grand quotation for you to set off against the vulgarity of the
+proverb. You would gain a great deal more by disciplining yourself,
+than if some body did it for you. And besides, Charlotte, system ought
+to be a means, and not an end. There is no particular use in being
+systematical for the mere sake of system."
+
+"I have a great mind to try it," said Charlotte, doubtfully. "This
+will be a good time to begin, because there will be no more parties. I
+wonder what mother would say. I do not believe she will like the idea
+of my studying Greek."
+
+"Then take something else—Spanish or German. You have never learnt
+German, and there is nothing more interesting to study. But I do not
+believe she will have any objections to your learning Greek, if you
+wish to."
+
+"I wish you were going to be here to study with me," said Charlotte.
+
+"I wish I were, for more reasons than one," returned Olive, sighing,
+"but I have made an engagement, and I must keep it. Not that I am sick
+of the idea of teaching," she added, seeing Charlotte smile. "On the
+contrary, I like the prospect better than ever before, but I feel as if
+I were wanted here."
+
+"You must not be too anxious about Abby," said Charlotte. "I do not
+believe any harm will come of it. She is a dear little creature, and
+always ready to do any thing one wants her to. I think she is willing
+to obey, from the very fact that it is less trouble than to have
+her own way. You know mother is very fond of her, and she will take
+excellent care of her."
+
+"I know that, Charlotte, but I don't think you can tell how I feel
+towards Abby. She seems more like a child than a sister. I should never
+consent to leave her with any one else but aunt Rebecca."
+
+Charlotte looked at Olive in her intent way, as though she meant to
+read her through and through. "I believe you are sincere," she said at
+last, "but I must say I wonder at your feeling so. I do not think my
+mother has ever treated you in a manner to attach you to her."
+
+"Your mother has done a great deal for me, more than I have always
+appreciated at the time," said Olive, remembering how excessively
+jealous Charlotte used to be during their school-days, lest her
+mother's kindness should be undervalued. "She has never intended any
+thing but kindness, I am sure, and if she has sometimes said things
+that made me unhappy at the time, I should be very ungrateful to lay
+them up. I was sorry to disoblige her by the course I took, and I
+should not have decided as I did, had I not been perfectly certain that
+it was for the best."
+
+"It is for the best," replied Charlotte, "and I have no doubt that
+mother will feel it so after a while, if she does not now. And do not
+distress yourself about Abby. As I said before, she is growing older
+every day. We will all take good care of her, and Mr. Forester will be
+out of the way, I presume, before long. I am sure no harm will come to
+her."
+
+Olive felt a great deal of comfort from Charlotte's kindness and
+consideration, and only hoped it would be continued to her sister,
+while she was absent.
+
+Abby herself seemed less capricious, and more inclined to be
+reasonable, than for some time past. She sought her sister's society
+constantly, and was even more affectionate and good humored than usual.
+Mr. Forester continued to be a frequent visitor, and Mrs. Merton began
+to raise her eyebrows and show signs of discontent when he appeared.
+
+Once, when he came home with Abby about dusk, and it appeared
+accidentally that they had taken a long walk together, aunt Rebecca
+gave her youngest niece quite a serious lecture about encouraging such
+an idle young man, and giving occasion to gossip. As Abby listened
+in submissive silence, without any of her usual petty petulance and
+impatience, and before the discourse was half ended, burst into a flood
+of tears, Mrs. Merton thought she had said all that was necessary.
+So she kissed the little weeping beauty, assuring her that she was
+not angry with her, but merely wished her to be careful what she did,
+and that she should never suspect her of any thing really improper or
+underhanded.
+
+Poor Abby cried more than ever, and as soon as she was alone, she threw
+herself upon the bed and cried herself to sleep.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER FIFTH.
+
+EVERY BODY knows how fast vacation-time speeds away. Olive could hardly
+tell what had become of hers, but the fact was plain that it was gone,
+and that only one week intervened before she was to enter upon a new
+and untried mode of life, in a new place and among entire strangers.
+
+The only people in Basswoods that she had ever seen were Mr. and Mrs.
+Gregory, the pastor and his wife, who had called upon her at Mrs.
+Granger's after she had accepted the invitation of the trustees. Mr.
+Gregory was a very pleasant elderly man, apparently possessing a good
+deal of cultivation, and his wife seemed a very nice, lively little
+person. Olive thought she should like them very much.
+
+But with all this, and with all the courage she could muster, her heart
+sunk not a little sometimes, as she thought of the prospects before
+her. The conviction that she was in the right course did not, however,
+vary a moment, nor did her faith in Him who giveth strength according
+to the day. For Olive's faith was neither a mental abstraction nor a
+vague feeling; if there was any one fact of which she felt absolutely
+certain, it was that God sitteth upon the throne of his mercy, always
+hearing, and invariably answering the prayer of humility and love,
+unless in cases where refusing is kinder than giving.
+
+She felt no more doubt that he would give her the strength necessary
+for her duty, than she felt that he had given her duties to perform.
+She had always prayed much, but never so much as now, and in an
+especial manner did she commend her sister Abby to Him who is the
+father of the fatherless. By earnest devotion—by her consciousness that
+she was acting rightly, and by resolutely looking at the bright side
+of the picture, she was able to overcome all forebodings and to pack
+her trunks when the time came, with a cheerful though somewhat anxious
+heart.
+
+She expected to leave early in the morning with a gentleman from
+Basswoods, who was to pass through on the cars. Her uncle had intended
+to accompany her himself, and see her comfortably settled in her new
+home, but an important law-suit called him in another direction a day
+or two before the time came. He bade Olive good-by with a great deal
+of affection, telling her that she must write very often, be sure to
+come home at once if she got sick, or if she did not find herself as
+comfortable as she expected, and at parting, put into her hands a
+little package, with requisitions not to open it till she reached her
+journey's end.
+
+Abby was very desirous to know what was inside this mysterious
+parcel, and showed so much anxiety about it, that Olive put it away
+in her trunk, in order, as she said, to put temptation out of her
+way. Aunt Merton made her a present of a very handsome and commodious
+writing-desk, well supplied with all sorts of pretty stationery, and
+moreover filled a new work-box with a great store of pins, needles,
+tape, thread, every thing of the kind, in short, which she could be
+expected to want for a twelvemonth and more. Her wardrobe had again
+been put in complete order, by Mrs. Merton's directions, and in fact,
+no school-teacher ever left home, for the first time, under more
+favorable auspices.
+
+To Olive's vexation, Mr. Forester came in, and spent the very last
+evening she was to have at home. He did not seem to have the least idea
+of being in the way, and made great efforts to be entertaining. Abby
+was alone in the parlor when he came in, and when Olive entered, they
+were standing by the window, very closely engaged in conversation: she
+even thought he had Abby's hand in his, but if so, it was very quickly
+withdrawn, and Mr. Forester, turning round, began talking with his
+usual ease and politeness.
+
+Olive felt vexed both at him and Abby, and all her efforts could not
+make her as cordial as she wished. Abby was constrained and silent, but
+that perhaps was no more than was natural. Mr. Forester staid quite
+late, much to Olive's annoyance, and Mrs. Merton exclaimed against his
+want of tact. Contrary to her habit, Abby did not say one word in his
+defense, though she colored and looked very much disturbed: in fact,
+she had seemed upon the brink of a fit of crying the whole evening
+through.
+
+As usual upon such occasions, every one declared that Olive ought to go
+to bed early that she might be quite fresh for her journey next day.
+And as usual, every one found so many last words to say, that it was
+full an hour later that common before the family retired.
+
+When the sisters were alone together, Abby seemed still less inclined
+for conversation, and yet there appeared to be something upon her mind
+which she wished to express. She answered yes and no at random to
+Olive's remarks, curled and uncurled her hair half a dozen times, and
+was so absent that Olive exclaimed, half-amused and half-vexed:
+
+"Why, Abby, I don't believe you know what you are doing."
+
+"I don't," said Abby shortly and in a tone which made Olive look at her
+in surprise. She paused a moment, nervously folding a piece of paper in
+her fingers, and then proceeded abruptly:
+
+"You may as well know the truth, Olive, first as last. I promised
+William I would not tell any one else, but I must tell you."
+
+"Tell me what?" eked Olive in amazement and terror; for Abby's color
+varied every instant, from deep crimson to pale as ashes, and she shook
+in every limb.
+
+"What is the matter with you?"
+
+Abby made another effort, and succeeded in saying, though in a voice
+which did not sound the least like her own: "I am engaged to be
+married, Olive!"
+
+Then as though the great difficulty were passed, she went on more
+calmly. "I meant to tell you before, but William was anxious it should
+be kept secret for the present. He would have preferred to have it
+remain so, till you came back at any rate, but I felt as though I could
+not have you go away—" She relapsed into silence again, busying herself
+aimlessly with her curls.
+
+Olive had seated herself upon the side of the bed: she felt as though
+she could not stand. But she saw how agitated Abby was, and with a
+strong effort, she preserved her own calmness.
+
+"Engaged to whom?" she asked quietly.
+
+"To William Forester, of course," returned Abby pettishly; "who else
+should it be?"
+
+"How long have you been engaged to him?" pursued Olive.
+
+"Ever since the day aunt Rebecca made such a fuss about our walking
+together—the day we went to the cemetery," answered Abby, with a degree
+of impatience. In fact, the great effort Olive was making to preserve
+her composure, rendered her tone more severe than she was aware of.
+
+"Why did you not tell me before?" she asked again.
+
+"You had better ask why I tell you now," exclaimed Abby, angrily,
+throwing down her brush, and turning round. "William told me you would
+not have any sympathy with me, and advised me not to say a word to
+you, and I see he was right. I don't know why you should sit there and
+question me in that cold severe tone, as though you had authority over
+me for life and death. I am not accountable to you."
+
+"Hush, Abby," said Olive, in a tone which now certainly trembled
+sufficiently; "do not let us make matters worse by quarrelling. I don't
+mean to be severe, but I am perfectly overwhelmed. Why, that is six
+weeks ago!"
+
+"Yes, and I wondered at your not suspecting us, though I was very glad
+you did not."
+
+"I have not been used to watching you in order find out your secrets,
+Abby," said Olive, more and more agitated. "You have always been as
+open as day before. Why should Mr. Forester be so anxious to have you
+conceal such a thing your best friends?"
+
+"He does not want any one to know it at present," replied Abby
+evasively.
+
+"But why? I should think the honorable way would have been for him to
+go at once to my uncle, mention the matter to him, and ask his consent,
+as he is your guardian, and has always been as kind as the kindest
+father to you."
+
+"You don't know any thing about such things, Olive. You never were in
+love, and I don't believe you ever will be."
+
+"Perhaps not," returned Olive, "but I know what is right, and
+straightforward, and gentlemanly, and the course which Mr. Forester has
+taken does not seem to me to be either."
+
+"William says my uncle is prejudiced against him, and you know he is,
+yourself."
+
+"I don't know any such thing. My uncle is not apt to be prejudiced
+against people, and if he were, it makes no difference in your duty.
+Why should he have a prejudice against Mr. Forester?"
+
+"He says William is idle," returned Abby, "because he does not choose
+to pin himself down to the office, and let all his fine talents wither
+away, while he is poring over stupid law-books. When he brought up
+those beautiful outline drawings the other night, uncle just asked
+him how much time they had taken from Blackstone. As though a man of
+his genius were going to be fettered in that way. Besides, he has no
+need to apply himself as the rest of the young men do, when he is so
+much quicker than they are. But there is no use in talking to you,"
+she added, turning away. "You do not understand William nor me. We
+understand each other, that is our comfort, and it is about the only
+one I have."
+
+"No doubt," said Olive bitterly, "this stranger, whom you have not
+known six months at the outside, understands you much better than
+your sister, who has been with you, and cared for you, ever since you
+were born. It does seem to me that my affection is likely to be as
+disinterested as his."
+
+"You have never been in love," Abby repeated, "and you can not
+understand the matter."
+
+"Very well, we will take that for granted. I have never been in love,
+and therefore can not enter into your feeling, but I am none the less
+able to see what is right, and I can never believe it is an honorable
+proceeding, to gain the affections of a young girl, hardly seventeen
+years old, and entangle her in an engagement, which is to be kept
+secret from her friends for an indefinite length of time."
+
+"Please to remember, Olive, that you are speaking of my affianced
+husband," said Abby, with flashing eyes, "and that I will not listen to
+one word to his disadvantage."
+
+"Very well," said Olive, after a moment's reflection, "I will say no
+more about him. It may be that he has only erred in judgment. But how
+long is this secrecy to continue, Abby?"
+
+"I don't know—I have never thought."
+
+"Then pray, my dearest child, do think before this affair goes any
+farther. You know how clear-sighted uncle and aunt Merton are."
+
+"I can not compliment aunt Rebecca upon being very clear-sighted,"
+said Abby, laughing. "If she had been, she might have seen before this
+time that there was something in the wind. How gravely she lectured me
+that night," she continued, with an amusing imitation of Mrs. Merton's
+impressive manner. "I must be careful, or people would make remarks
+about me. It would be very unpleasant, and a great disadvantage to me
+to have any report of an engagement get abroad. I should think she
+would have seen then, that something unusual was the matter."
+
+"I presume the possibility of your wishing to deceive her, never
+entered her mind," said Olive gravely, vexed almost beyond endurance
+by Abby's unreasonable levity. "But you must know, Abby, that things
+can not go on so. There are aunt Dimsden and Laura always upon the
+watch too. Suppose her suspicions are aroused, and she speaks to uncle
+Merton, or tells the story to every one, till it gets to his ears from
+some other quarter. What will you do when he calls you to account about
+it? You know he can not endure any thing like slyness, even in the
+smallest matters."
+
+"I don't know," said Abby lightly, but sighing at the same time. "I
+must trust William to get me out of the scrape, some way or other.
+Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof."
+
+"Quite sufficient, I should think. Just consider how you will be
+situated, with your mind burdened with a secret which you are
+constantly afraid of having found out, obliged to resort to all sorts
+of subterfuges: you may even be driven to downright untruth before you
+know it."
+
+Abby sighed deeply. She was conscious of having transgressed in this
+respect more than once already. Olive hoped she had gained a little
+advantage.
+
+"I am sure, Abby, you can not be happy living in this way," she said.
+
+"I don't expect to be happy, except when I am with William," replied
+Abby. "Then I forget that there is any thing like discomfort or misery,
+in the world; he is so kind and good. He makes me feel like another
+being—so elevated. I feel above all earthly cares and trammels."
+
+"And duties too," thought Olive, but she did not say so. As she became
+cooler, she saw that she had made a great mistake in speaking so
+severely of Mr. Forester. It was necessary, above all things, for her
+to gain Abby's confidence, and this was not the way to do it. Abby
+continued:
+
+"When I am away from him, I expect to be more or less unhappy, of
+course; 'the course of true love never did run smooth,' you know. But
+for all that, I would not give him up; No, not if every friend I have
+in the world should set himself against him."
+
+Olive sighed at the infatuation as it seemed to her, of her sister. "I
+do wish you would tell uncle all about it," she said earnestly.
+
+"I dare not," replied Abby, turning pale at the very idea. "He would be
+so angry!"
+
+"What will he be if he finds it out for himself, and discovers that you
+have been deceiving him all the time?"
+
+"How you do harp upon deception," said Abby. "It is not deceiving him
+to tell him nothing about it."
+
+"O Abby! You would not have made that distinction a year ago."
+
+"I was a child, and afraid to say my soul was my own, a year ago—but,
+at any rate, I shall not tell him."
+
+"Then let me—he will not be at home, but I can write to him."
+
+"Indeed you must not!" returned Abby, in great alarm. "William would
+be very angry. It was as much as I could do, to gain his consent for
+telling you. Promise me that you will not say a word about it!"
+
+"I can not make such a promise," said Olive; "It does not seem right.
+Mr. Forester ought to tell uncle Merton himself."
+
+"Do you suppose, Olive," asked Abby, "that it would be very pleasant
+for a man of William's delicate feelings and exquisite refinement,
+to expose himself to the questionings and reproofs of such a cold,
+practical, middle-aged man as my uncle, who judges of every thing in
+the world by two touchstones—common-sense and duty?"
+
+"And very good touchstones I consider them," returned Olive. "But
+pleasant or not pleasant, it is the part of an honest man to do it. I
+can not give my consent to any such secret arrangement, Abby; it is
+altogether wrong. I am sure your own conscience can not approve of it."
+
+"Conscience, conscience, Olive! How you do go over that word. I can
+tell you, sister mine, that there are instincts and feelings in the
+human soul, which will not be chained down by old-fashioned trammels
+of conscience and duty, and such catch-words. Once for all, I tell you
+that you can not understand my feelings, because you have never been in
+love yourself, and so there is no use talking to you. I am sorry you
+feel hurt at my silence, and I should have told you before, if William
+had been willing, but he was not. He wishes the affair to be kept still
+till he shall have finished his studies, or else till he gets engaged
+in some other business; for he begins to think the law will never suit
+him, it is so confining. Then, you know, he is not dependent on his
+profession entirely: his father left him ten thousand dollars."
+
+"But that was some time ago, and in the way he has lived, he must have
+spent a good deal."
+
+"Of course, he does not intend to depend entirely upon that. He means
+to do something, and he does not wish to have this matter talked of
+till he is settled. Then, of course, he expects to ask my uncle in
+form. Oh! You will see it will all come out right, if you will only
+let us have our own way about it: we shall be nicely fixed by and
+by, in a house of our own, with pictures and books, and every thing
+delightful inside and out; and you shall come and live with us, instead
+of drudging at school-teaching. And there," said Abby, catching at
+any shade of self-justification, "when you took up this notable
+school-keeping scheme, you acted as much for yourself as I am doing."
+
+"But in a very different way, Abby," replied Olive. "Before I took one
+single step in the matter, or even made up my own mind, I wrote to
+uncle about it, and I have not done a single thing, from first to last,
+without his knowledge and consent. If he had opposed it, I should have
+given it up, or at least have waited till I was twenty-one. Besides,
+teaching is not like getting married. If I find that I can not be
+useful or happy in it, I can stop."
+
+"What are you talking about, girls?" asked aunt Rebecca's voice of
+authority, at the door. "You ought to have been asleep an hour ago.
+Olive, do not let me hear another word to-night."
+
+There was nothing for it to obey, and where was the use of talking?
+Nothing that Olive could say, seemed to make any impression. She had
+always pleased herself with the idea that Abby's disposition was so
+easy and yielding that there would be no difficulty in guiding her
+aright, and that she was naturally so open, that no secrets could exist
+between them. Now she found out her mistake. The yielding disposition
+was only yielding in matters which Abby did not care any thing about,
+or which she thought not worth the trouble of a contradiction. Her
+frankness was only a habit and not a principle, and yielded to the
+first temptation. She was completely bewildered and dazzled by the
+sentimental sophistry of her accomplished admirer, with whom she was
+really as much in love as a girl of seventeen is capable of being.
+
+Of course, she could see nothing save perfection, in Mr. Forester. He
+was really an interesting and agreeable man, and, as is the case with
+almost every girl who falls in love, she invested him with all those
+attributes of manly excellence which existed only in her own mind.
+Olive's arguments made but little impression upon her. She took refuge
+in the idea, which indeed had some truth in it, that Olive had never
+been in love, and therefore could not understand her feelings. When
+she was absolutely driven into a corner, and forced to reflect, she
+could not but acknowledge to herself that she occupied an unpleasant
+and somewhat undignified position, and that the course she was pursuing
+was not likely to end in any thing desirable. But she comforted herself
+with the idea, "that it would all come right in the end—that she should
+get through with it some way."
+
+Olive, on her part, was thoroughly perplexed, and almost for the
+first time in her life, could not see her duty plain before her. If
+her uncle had been at home, she almost thought she should have gone
+straight to him, and told him the whole story. And yet—she had properly
+no authority over Abby, and what right had she to betray her secret?
+If she had had more time, she would have talked to Mr. Forester, and
+endeavored to prevail upon him to take an open and manly course. But
+she had no time—there was the great trouble. Her uncle was not at home.
+Even should she think it best to speak to Mrs. Merton, there would be
+no opportunity, and moreover, she was very doubtful of the expediency
+of such a step.
+
+What could she—what ought she to do? She thought it over and over, and
+prayed for light, but she could see none, except that she felt more
+and more as though Mr. Merton ought to be informed, but then—could
+she betray her sister? She knew her uncle well, and she felt sick as
+she thought how angry he would be with Abby. She could not sleep, and
+was so restless, that she awoke her companion, who asked what was the
+matter.
+
+"I am thinking about this miserable business, Abby. Do promise me that
+you will tell uncle all about it when he comes home, or persuade Mr.
+Forester to tell him. I am sure it is the only right way."
+
+"Dear me, are you worrying over that yet?" said Abby sleepily. "I wish
+I had not told you, since you are so distressed about it."
+
+"But will you tell uncle?"
+
+"Yes, if I can, or I will get William to. Now do go to sleep, like a
+dear child."
+
+Olive turned and tossed, and finally fell into troubled slumber, which
+seemed to have lasted about five minutes, when she was awakened by Mrs.
+Merton's hand and voice.
+
+"I have allowed you to sleep just as long as I dare, my dear. You will
+have no more than time to dress, and get your breakfast comfortably. I
+will finish your packing myself."
+
+Olive sprang up, and was soon dressed. She meant to have risen early,
+but her restless night had defeated her plans, and before she had
+finished her prayers, Mrs. Merton's voice was again heard at the door.
+The breakfast was very inviting, but she could take nothing except a
+cup of coffee.
+
+Aunt Rebecca busied herself in putting a provision of sandwiches and
+cakes into her travelling-bag, and in looking to see that nothing had
+been left. Charlotte sat by, grave and silent, except when she sharply
+reproved Abby for crying, and making Olive cry too.
+
+Contrary to Olive's expectations, they had some time to spare at
+the dépôt, and the first person they saw was Mr. Forester, who was
+evidently waiting for them. She would have given a great deal to have
+been able to say a few words to him in private, but there seemed to be
+no opportunity.
+
+At last he contrived to get between her and her aunt, and said in the
+same moment, in a low tone: "I suppose Abby has told you?"
+
+"Yes," returned Olive.
+
+"I hope her course has your approval," he said carelessly.
+
+"I can not say—I think you should have spoken to my uncle," replied
+Olive. And then, seeing that Mrs. Merton's attention was still
+occupied, she added, earnestly: "Do be open with him, and allow Abby to
+be so: it is the only right—the only honorable way."
+
+Mr. Forester colored deeply, and his eyes flashed fire; he seemed about
+to make an angry reply, but controlled himself, and merely said in a
+tone of hauteur: "Pardon me, if I esteem myself the best judge of that
+matter, Miss McHenry. But as your sister's confiding disposition has
+foolishly placed her secret in your hands, you will no doubt use it as
+suits your purpose; and Abby will find out her folly too late."
+
+"Late!" said Mrs. Merton catching the last word. "Are we late?"
+
+"No, ma'am, the cars are late—ten minutes behind time at least. Ah!
+Here they come at last."
+
+"Miss McHenry here?" said an elderly gentleman entering the ladies'
+room. "Ah! Good morning, ma'am. Mrs. Merton I presume I have the
+pleasure of addressing—and which of these young ladies am I to take in
+charge?"
+
+Mrs. Merton presented Miss McHenry. Jones bowed and shook hands.
+
+"We have no time to lose, Miss McHenry. Have you your checks and
+tickets? All right—come then, bid good-by all—good morning, Madam—" And
+almost before Olive knew where she was, she was out of the dépôt, and
+whirling along at lightning speed through the country.
+
+Mr. Jones was a kindly, fatherly sort of man, one of those old
+gentlemen who always call all young girls "my dear," and take pleasure
+in petting them. He was very kind to Olive, provided her with a new
+magazine from a small library of such things which he seemed to have
+with him, left her to herself for a while, as he saw that her heart
+and eyes were full to overflowing; and when he perceived that she was
+becoming more composed, pointed out all the objects of particular
+interest on the road, talked to her about the place she came from,
+and the one she was going to, and made himself so agreeable that she
+several times found herself forgetting her great trouble for as much as
+ten minutes together.
+
+She found considerable amusement in watching the people in the cars,
+who presented the usual variety. There was a returned Californian going
+home with his wife, who had evidently been down to the seaboard to meet
+him. He was a great rough six-footer of a man, bearded like the pard,
+and full of strength and spirits; and it was quite touching to see the
+way in which he caressed and petted his delicate little wife, something
+as though he was afraid of breaking her by too rough handling. There
+were of course two or three bashful and blushing brides, and still
+more bashful and awkward grooms, looking as though they thought all
+the world must know that they were just married. Then there were a
+thoughtful father and mother, with a tribe of handsome boys and girls
+going to settle at the West, all merry, good-natured, and full of
+spirits.
+
+And finally, a couple of would-be fine ladies from some Western city,
+full of second-hand airs, and last year's finery, who amused themselves
+the whole way, in talking over their own and their neighbors' family
+quarrels—how Rebecca Coleman made a party, and did not ask the speaker,
+though she invited George's wife; and what she said to George about it,
+and what George said to her; how the refreshments were poor and scanty,
+and Rebecca only attended to those that she liked; how the minister's
+wife wore feathers in her bonnet, and made a great many visits, and how
+the minister himself encouraged pauperism by relieving the poor; how
+easy it was to deceive him, and how he had spoken of a clergyman of
+another denomination as an intelligent and gentlemanly man—it was even
+reported that he said 'fellow.' Olive thought the minister was to be
+pitied, who numbered such a party of ill-natured detractors among his
+flock.
+
+As it drew towards night, Olive began to think less of those she had
+left behind, and to feel a little anxious respecting the people she
+was soon to meet, and among whom her hope was to be, for the next
+five months at least. A boarding-place had been provided for her by
+the care of Mr. Gregory, and she tried to find out something about
+it from Mr. Jones, but without much success. He could or would tell
+her nothing more than they were very nice people, and lived in one
+of the pleasantest places in Basswood. Upon farther questioning, she
+discovered that the family consisted of an elderly man and his wife,
+and one daughter, who was too old to go to school. In fact, it soon
+became obvious to her, that while Mr. Jones was delighted to give her
+descriptions of the situation, scenery, and manufactures of Basswoods,
+he was resolutely determined to say nothing about the people, and Olive
+could not help admiring his prudence and discretion, at the same time
+that she felt a little vexed at it.
+
+At the last station, Mr. Jones informed her that they had only thirty
+miles father to go, and her eyes were soon abundantly occupied in
+studying the picturesque and beautiful valley through which they were
+passing. By and by, the train came to a full stop—then backed—then went
+on, and finally stopped again.
+
+Olive looked out; there seemed nothing to stop for. They were in a
+deep, narrow valley, shut in by high mountains, and nothing like a
+settlement was visible.
+
+Mr. Jones got up and went to the door, but he could see nothing to
+account for the delay, so he sat down again.
+
+By and by the conductor came along, and, on being interrogated,
+informed them that they were behind time, and must wait for another
+train.
+
+"How long?" inquired several gentlemen, anxiously.
+
+"Perhaps five minutes—perhaps an hour. As soon as the up-train has
+passed, we shall be able to go on, but we must wait an hour for them;
+after that, we shall have a right to the road."
+
+Various opinions now made themselves heard. Mr. Jones said that they
+should not get to their destination till late, but considered that
+even that was better than running any risk. The Californian thought
+the whole thing rather "slow," but was not disposed to grumble at any
+thing, and having made acquaintance with the boys opposite, began
+telling them bear-hunting and gold-digging stories, with infinite
+good-nature, and a vast amount of odd expressions and California slang.
+The Western ladies looked at him and the whole party, as though they
+had been their natural, born enemies, especially when the boys laughed,
+which, it must be confessed, they did somewhat uproariously.
+
+Their husbands thought the conductor ought to go on at any rate, even
+at the imminent risk of being run over, which would be incomparably
+less of an evil than waiting an hour.
+
+"Would you not like to go to the end, and look out, my dear?" said Mr.
+Jones to Olive. "It will be less fatiguing than sitting still, though
+there is not much to see."
+
+Olive could not agree that there was very little to see, when she
+stepped out upon the platform. They were in a very narrow valley,
+between two high, rocky ridges, which almost deserved the name of
+mountains. There seemed hardly more than room for the road and the
+stream, which murmured and foamed along, as though hurrying to escape
+from such confined quarters. The sun was just dropping behind the
+western hills, which were very steep, and clothed with dark evergreens,
+made still more sombre by the deep shadows. While the eastern
+mountains, glowing with all the magnificent coloring of beech, maple,
+and graceful birch, with here and there a sumach burning like a living
+fire, was lighted by the whole blaze of sunset.
+
+Mr. Jones smiled at Olive's exclamations of delight.
+
+"You are an enthusiast about such things," he said. "I used to be
+myself when I was young, but I have had it a good deal driven out of
+me, I am sorry to say. But I am glad you are fond of mountains, for you
+will see enough of them. I love them like old friends, for I was born
+among them."
+
+Olive found the hour pass very pleasantly in watching the changes of
+light and shade on the hill-tops and in the valley, and in listening to
+her companion's reminiscences of the early settlement of the country.
+She felt almost sorry when the train went on again, and she began to
+feel that every moment brought her nearer to her journey's end.
+
+At last came the long whistle which announced that the station was
+in sight. The people who were going to stop began to gather up their
+shawls and bags, and to look out their checks. And those who were going
+on felicitated themselves with the idea of a hot supper.
+
+She soon found herself in a carriage with her kind companion, who
+insisted on going with her to the house, and introducing her to her
+host and hostess. Olive was very thankful: she was vexed to find
+herself trembling and agitated, when she meant to be very calm and
+composed. The carriage stopped at the gate of a very pretty two-story
+brick house, a good deal shaded, which was all she could see by
+moonlight.
+
+A light streamed out from the hall-door, and two or three figures
+appeared at it, showing that she was expected.
+
+"Good-evening, Mrs. Felton," said Mr. Jones; "I have brought your new
+inmate, you see, and I hope you have some supper for her. I am sure she
+must be starving."
+
+Mrs. Felton came forward, and shook hands kindly with Olive,
+introducing her to her husband at the same time—a ceremony from which
+that gentleman received but little benefit, as he was out at the
+gate, superintending the removal of the baggage. Mrs. Felton was a
+middle-aged, meek-looking woman, with mild hazel eyes, and a certain
+nervous, undecided expression.
+
+"Supper—yes, certainly. So you have had no supper, but we waited so
+long, I am afraid every thing is quite spoiled. I guess I had better
+get something fresh. Ruth!"
+
+"Pray do not take any trouble for me," said Olive, who did not feel
+very much like eating, being conscious of a certain hysterical feeling
+in her throat; "I am not hungry."
+
+"But you must be hungry, because you have been travelling all day,"
+insisted Mrs. Felton, argumentatively; "people are always hungry when
+they have been travelling."
+
+And, having asked Mr. Jones to stay to supper, and telling her husband,
+who was still invisible, to take the trunks up-stairs, Mrs. Felton
+led the way into the dining-room—a very cheerful apartment, furnished
+with easy-looking, odd-shaped, rush-bottomed, and closely-wound chairs
+and sofas; a tall, old-fashioned mahogany clock, with a marvellously
+painted and gilded face, ticked in the corner; some curious old prints
+and paintings upon glass ornamented the walls; and a beautiful large
+white cat sat composedly on a chair at the corner of the supper-table,
+as though she had taken her usual place, and was waiting for the rest
+of the company.
+
+"I kept the table standing because I thought you might not have had
+your supper, you see," pursued Mrs. Felton, in a mild, purring kind
+of voice. "There! Sit down in the rocking-chair, and let me take your
+bonnet. Your room is all ready for you, but perhaps you will not like
+it. I thought the front-chamber was the pleasantest, because you can
+see every one that passes, but Ruth liked the back one the best—Ruth!"
+
+"Yes, mother," replied the individual so often called, in a cheerful
+voice, entering at the same time, with a waiter full of smoking dishes,
+"I only waited to fry two or three eggs, and get out the hot biscuits—I
+laid some by on purpose. How do you do, Miss McHenry?" she continued,
+without waiting for an introduction. "Tired enough, of course! Don't
+move," she continued, setting down her dishes; "I will push the table
+up to you." And she suited the action to the word, before Olive had
+time to remonstrate, and handed her a cup of fragrant tea, begging her
+to help herself to an egg and a piece of ham.
+
+Olive had really believed that she was not hungry, but every thing was
+so very nice and inviting, that she felt her appetite return, and ate a
+hearty supper, to the evident delight of her hostess.
+
+As soon as she had finished, Ruth asked her if she would not like
+to go to her room. "It is all ready, and I am sure you will be glad
+to be quiet," she said, as she lighted a candle in a queer little
+old-fashioned silver candlestick; "I will show you the way."
+
+Every thing looked inviting in the room whither Olive was conducted. It
+was large and high, but full curtains and a warm-colored carpet gave it
+an air of comfort. An old-fashioned toilet and glass stood between the
+windows: an equally antiquated book-case filled up one recess of the
+chimney, and a commodious table and chair the other.
+
+Ruth set down the candle, and sweeping a comprehensive glance around
+the room to see that all was right, bade Olive good-night, begging not
+to hurry herself in the morning, as the school did not begin till the
+next day, and she would have plenty of time for unpacking.
+
+Olive certainly did not feel inclined to any extra exertion. She
+took out what she wanted for the night, and unpacked her Bible and
+prayer-book, and, despite all the varied excitements of the day, she
+was asleep before her head touched the pillow.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER SIXTH.
+
+OLIVE slept late the next morning, and when she awoke from a dream of
+home, she could hardly understand for a moment, where she was. It was
+some little time before she could arouse herself sufficiently to rise
+and put back the window-curtain. It was one of the softest mornings of
+early autumn. The window looked toward the east, across the not very
+wide valley in which the village lay, to a high, bold, rocky eminence,
+which bounded it on that side, while here and there she caught glimpses
+of the same sparkling and rapid stream, which they had seen so often
+the day before, now augmented to a considerable river. She could not
+see much of the village, though two or three large old-fashioned
+farmhouses were in sight around the edges of the valley.
+
+She had finished dressing, and was standing at the open window enjoying
+the fresh air and the prospect, so different from any thing to which
+she had been accustomed, when a light tap was heard at the door and
+Ruth entered.
+
+"I heard you stirring," she said, half-apologetically, "and came up to
+see if you wanted any help. We thought we would not wake you. I hope
+you feel rested?"
+
+Ruth Felton had one of those faces which it is impossible to see
+without loving. She was far from handsome, being small and thin, with
+rather a sallow complexion, and no special pretensions to elegance or
+grace, but whenever she came into a room she seemed to bring sunshine
+with her. There was something in her expression so cheerful and bright,
+so thoroughly good and withal so earnest and full of helpfulness,
+that every one with whom she came in contact felt influence, and
+owned its power. She possessed moreover that not exceedingly common
+gift, a remarkably sweet voice; truly, an excellent thing in woman.
+Ruth was not young, and there were various signs and tokens about her
+which seemed to show that she was verging towards an old maid. Many
+people wondered why she had never married, but when questioned upon
+the subject, she always laughed her bright, cheery laugh, and said she
+never had had time.
+
+"School begins to-morrow," said Ruth, as they went down-stairs
+together, "and I suppose you may expect a call from Mr. Prendergrass
+to-day."
+
+"Who is Mr. Prendergrass?" asked Olive.
+
+"Why, the principal of the Academy; is it possible you have had so
+little curiosity as not to ask the name of your associate?"
+
+"I believe I have heard it before," replied Olive, coloring a little,
+"but I have had so many things to think of."
+
+"Yes, I dare say," said Ruth. "But you will soon learn all about the
+things and the people with whom you have to do. I suppose you are ready
+for your breakfast?" she added, as they entered the dining-room.
+
+"Have you had breakfast?" asked Olive, seeing only a small round table
+set by the window.
+
+"Oh! Yes, two hours ago. We breakfast at half-past six in summer, and
+at seven in winter. I am afraid our hours will be too early for you."
+
+"Oh! No; I was accustomed to early hours at school, but aunt Merton has
+spoiled me a little, since I have been at home. What a beautiful puss!"
+she continued, as the white cat she had seen the night before roused
+herself from a comfortable nap, and came gravely forward to pay her
+respects.
+
+"I hope you like cats," said Ruth; "Jenny is a great pet, and to say
+the truth, a little spoiled. She is the descendant of a cat that my
+brother brought home from Bombay, and my mother values her on that
+account. But if you find her troublesome, you must drive her away."
+
+Olive had no great fear of finding the pretty creature troublesome, for
+she loved pets of every description, and had more than once incurred
+aunt Rebecca's displeasure, by patronizing stray kittens and forlorn
+puppies.
+
+Jenny was very ready to be taken up, and they were having a fine game
+at play, when Ruth entered with the breakfast, followed by Mrs. Felton
+with a work-basket.
+
+"Ruth," said the latter, in a tone of mild remonstrance, which somehow
+made Olive feel nervous, "you shouldn't let that cat trouble Miss
+McHenry."
+
+"She does not trouble me," said Olive; "I am very fond of cats."
+
+"You are very kind to say so," returned Mrs. Felton, with an expression
+of gentle incredulity, "but a great many people don't like them, and I
+never want any thing belonging to me to be troublesome or intrusive. I
+never want to be myself. For that reason I did not go up to your room
+this morning. I felt that you would come down when you got ready, but
+Ruth thought differently."
+
+Mrs. Felton never thought, she only felt; and she had no opinions, but
+only feelings.
+
+Olive glanced at Ruth, expecting to see some signs of annoyance, but
+none were visible. She busied herself in setting the table in order.
+And inviting Olive to seat herself at it, she placed herself at the
+coffee-urn—a curious, little old-fashioned institution of plated ware
+with a gilded ivory pine-apple upon the top—and said grace in a very
+grave, unaffected manner. After which, she proceeded to pour out the
+coffee, Mrs. Felton murmuring away all the time, partly, as it seemed,
+to herself and partly to her companions.
+
+"I suppose you rested well, Miss McHenry? At least, I hope you did."
+
+"Oh! Yes," replied Olive, smiling; "only I slept rather too long. I am
+quite rested this morning."
+
+"You are a good sleeper, I suppose. I am not," said the lady, as she
+threaded her needle. "I never get any sleep till towards morning, and
+yet it is very singular how Mr. Felton will always insist that I sleep
+all night. I am sure I don't know how he can tell, for he never wakes
+up from the time he goes to bed till he gets up again. I suppose you
+have never been away from home before?"
+
+"Oh! Yes; I have been at school a great deal," replied Olive, "though
+to be sure, I have always had my sister and cousin with me." And she
+sighed for the tenth time as she thought of poor Abby.
+
+"No doubt you will miss them very much," continued Mrs. Felton. "It
+is a sad thing to have none of one's relations near one. I have never
+seen any of mine since I was married. Indeed, I haven't any nearer than
+second cousins, for my mother was an only child and my father had but
+one brother, who died at sea. I fear you will be very lonely here after
+what you have been accustomed to."
+
+"Come, mother," said Ruth, cheerfully, "you must not go to making Miss
+McHenry home-sick. I think she will find our village a very pleasant
+one, and we have plenty of agreeable people, you know. We must not
+discourage her at the outset."
+
+"I don't mean to discourage her, of course," returned the lady in an
+injured tone. "I suppose she may like sympathy, though you don't."
+
+Olive thought she did not either, if this was a specimen. To turn the
+conversation, she asked hastily: "Is the Academy far from here?"
+
+"Only a little way," replied Ruth; "you can see it from the front-door.
+It is a very pleasant building, and well fitted up, though one of the
+oldest in the place. It was built before the war."
+
+"How large is the school?" asked Olive.
+
+"There are usually about fifty in the girls' department, and twice as
+many in the other. You will find them pleasant enough for the most
+part, though there are a few black sheep, of course."
+
+"I am sure poor Miss Brown had trouble enough," remarked Mrs. Felton.
+
+"It was her own fault, mother," said Ruth. "She would go round, talking
+about the girls out of school, and telling the whole village of every
+little unpleasant circumstance. It is almost as unfortunate for a
+teacher to gossip, as for a minister."
+
+"Is Mr. Gregory in town now?" inquired Olive.
+
+"He is," replied Ruth. "Do you know him?"
+
+"He called upon me at Mrs. Granger's, with his wife," said Olive. "I
+was very much pleased with him."
+
+"Almost every body likes Mr. Gregory," remarked Ruth, as she put the
+dishes together upon the tray.
+
+"Why, yes, I suppose they do," said Mrs. Felton; "and I dare say he is
+a good man. But I must say, he has very little feeling, and does not
+understand my case at all. Would you believe it, Miss McHenry, when I
+told him how much I suffered from low spirits and dolts and all sorts
+of distressing feelings about myself, instead of sympathizing with me,
+he told me he thought I did not take exercise enough, and advised me
+to teach a class in Sunday-school. He said he did not think it was a
+good thing for people to be always studying over their own feelings.
+And when I went to see Mrs. Tower—she is his daughter—at the time her
+child died, and was asking her all about little Henrietta's sickness
+and death, and telling her of the loss of my own children, and saying
+every thing I could think of, to show my sympathy—he as good as told me
+to hold my tongue, and let her alone."
+
+Olive did not wonder at it, but she said nothing in reply, and only
+observed that Mrs. Gregory seemed a very pleasant person. Mrs.
+Felton allowed that she was, but thought her very gay and frivolous
+for a person of her age. She was clearly of the opinion that there
+was "nothing so dainty sweet, as lovely melancholy," and no one was
+approved by her who had the heartlessness to be gay in this world's
+woes.
+
+Olive began to feel that such a perpetual presence might become very
+wearisome after a while, and she wondered how Ruth could preserve her
+cheerfulness under it. But Ruth seemed to mind her mother's murmurs no
+more than she did the purring of the cat. She again came up to Olive's
+room to show her the shelves and drawers, of which there were a great
+abundance, and then left her to herself till dinner-time.
+
+Olive was not very long in unpacking and arranging her matters, though
+she lingered a little over her books and drawing materials which were
+nicely accommodated in the book-case. A small portrait of her mother,
+copied by herself, from the large picture at Mr. Merton's, and one or
+two favorite landscapes, found very good lights upon the walls. The
+table held her work-box and the new desk very nicely.
+
+As she opened the latter for the first time, her eye fell upon Mr.
+Merton's mysterious packet, which she had quite forgotten. She opened
+it, and found a very nice case, containing a handsome gold watch and
+chain, exactly such a one as he had presented to Charlotte on her
+birth-day, and two bright new twenty-dollar gold pieces, with a kind
+note, which, as it was very characteristic of the gentleman, we subjoin.
+
+"You will want a watch, my dear, by which to regulate your hours, and
+I hope you will find this a good one. The gold pieces are to supply
+you with any little conveniences, of which you may feel the need. With
+regard to your course in your new home, I have but a few words of
+advice to give you. Mind your own business—never gossip nor let others
+gossip to you: do not be too set in your own way: have patience, but
+not mock patience: and look to God in all trials and difficulties."
+
+Such was Mr. Merton's note, over which Olive shed a few tears. "Oh! If
+Abby would only be open with him," she thought, "how much misery it
+would save us all."
+
+She did not dare permit her thoughts to dwell too long upon the
+subject, for she felt that she needed all her strength for what
+was before her. So she bathed her eyes, dressed herself neatly and
+becomingly, and had finished a letter to aunt Rebecca, and begun one to
+Abby, before the dinner-bell rung.
+
+At dinner, she saw the hitherto invisible Mr. Felton—a mild,
+good-natured man, with a quiet, subdued manner. Olive thought his
+wife's sympathy must have affected him. He was cordial, and entered
+into conversation very readily, displaying considerable intelligence.
+They had hardly risen from the table, when Mr. and Mrs. Gregory were
+announced, and Olive entered the parlor to greet them, with a feeling
+that they were old friends.
+
+Mr. Gregory was all kindness and cordiality. As Olive looked at him,
+she did not wonder at his not sympathizing very deeply in Mrs. Felton's
+troubles. He looked like a man who had passed through the furnace of
+affliction and come out unspoiled, but perhaps a little hardened by
+the fire. Suffering was written in every line of his face, but it was
+suffering past and gone.
+
+Half an hour's conversation with him made Olive feel as though she had
+found a valuable friend. There was that about him which irresistibly
+attracted confidence, and she was almost startled, after he had gone,
+to find how freely she had expressed herself. Mrs. Gregory was a
+kindly, motherly woman, evidently proud of her husband, and enjoying
+full faith in his infallibility.
+
+After they had gone, Mr. Jones came and brought his two daughters,
+pretty, shy girls of fourteen and sixteen, both evidently terribly
+afraid of the new school-mistress, who, on her part, was almost equally
+afraid of them, though she managed to conceal her trepidation. By some
+well-directed questions, she presently had them at their ease and
+talking quite fluently.
+
+White Jenny opportunely walked into the room, suggesting a ready
+subject for conversation, and Phebe had grown quite eloquent in
+describing a Maltese cat that she had, and a terrier belonging to her
+brother, which slept, ate, and hunted rats together, when the door
+opened, and Ruth appeared, ushering in a tall gentleman, whom she
+introduced to Olive as Mr. Prendergrass.
+
+The girls were hushed in a moment, and seemed as if looking around
+for some place of escape, while Olive rose in some confusion, and put
+down white Jenny, to greet her associate in the care of the youth of
+Basswoods.
+
+Mr. Prendergrass was a tall man, very spare and upright. His iron-gray
+hair was arranged with mathematical precision, his whiskers ditto. He
+wore the neatest of black suits, and the neatest of black gloves, and
+his linen was got up to an extent that was quite alarming. There was
+a tradition current among the boys that he wore a tin shirt-bosom and
+collar, and had once nearly cut off one of his ears with the latter.
+
+Mr. Prendergrass bowed a solemn bow, and then another, in reply to
+Olive's courtesy. Then he sat down, casting rather a nervous glance at
+white Jenny, who was amusing herself with the tassels of Miss Jones'
+parasol. "I am happy to see you, Miss McHenry," he said, in a tone as
+formal as the rest of his appearance. "I hope you have recovered from
+the fatigue of your journey?"
+
+"Quite, thank you," said Olive, wishing she could think of something to
+add to it.
+
+"Did you find your journey agreeable?" inquired Mr. Prendergrass again,
+precisely as though he was hearing a lesson.
+
+"Very much so," replied Olive. "The route is very picturesque."
+
+"Are not the mountains beautiful, Miss McHenry?" said Anna Jones,
+timidly, and coloring as she spoke.
+
+"Extremely so to me, especially as they were the first I had ever seen.
+I longed to make sketches all the way."
+
+"They are splendid in winter," said Anna, quite enthusiastically. "The
+pines look so grand, covered with snow, and the long icicles hanging
+from the rocks." She seemed quite frightened at having said so much,
+and relapsed into silence and stiffness again.
+
+Mr. Prendergrass looked as though he thought mountains were frivolous
+things. Mr. Jones preserved a provoking taciturnity, and Olive was
+wondering what she ought to do or say next, when the youngest Miss
+Jones made a furtive poke with her parasol in the direction of the
+principal, accompanied by the least possible mischievous glance of her
+eye towards her sister.
+
+Jenny sprang upon the parasol, and Mr. Prendergrass started.
+
+"Do, do be pleased to dismiss that quadruped," he said, almost
+imploringly, to Miss Phebe. "Be quiet, cat, I entreat," he continued,
+as Jenny made another jump after the withdrawn parasol.
+
+Olive caught up the offending animal, and carried her off, and Mr.
+Prendergrass appeared much relieved. "I have a great dislike to the
+feline race," he observed, reseating himself. "I believe it to be
+constitutional. My father was nearly killed by one—a panther, I mean,"
+he added, looking resentfully at the young ladies, who betrayed some
+tendency to giggling.
+
+Olive was much interested, and related several anecdotes of persons who
+were made ill, or otherwise unpleasantly affected by the presence of
+cats. Mr. Prendergrass unbent a little, and Olive was surprised to find
+that he could talk very well when he was not thinking of himself.
+
+At last Mr. Jones proposed that they should step over to the academy.
+"I should like to have Miss McHenry's opinion of the arrangements in
+the girls' room," said he. "She may have some improvements to suggest."
+
+"The rooms are exactly as they were arranged by the Reverend Mr.
+Snowden, sir!" said Mr. Prendergrass, solemnly.
+
+"Very true, sir, but Miss McHenry may have ways of her own, you know."
+
+Mr. Prendergrass looked as though the idea of Miss McHenry's having
+ways of her own was not agreeable to him, but he only bowed solemnly.
+
+And the whole party proceeded to the academy.
+
+It was a pretty, neat building, and Olive was surprised to see it
+looking so new and fresh, till she was informed that it had lately been
+put in complete repair. The date of 1775 still remained in iron letters
+upon each of the gables, and Mr. Jones pointed out, upon one of the
+windows, two or three bullet-marks which had been made in a skirmish
+with the Indians.
+
+The upper school-room, appropriated to her use, was a very pleasant
+apartment, neatly fitted up with movable desks and chairs, set in rows
+across the room.
+
+On being questioned, Olive admitted that she should prefer a different
+disposition. She thought it better that they should be arranged around
+the apartment, so that the girls might sit with their faces to the wall.
+
+"Why, may I inquire, Miss McHenry, do you wish the 'young ladies' to
+assume such a position?" said Mr. Prendergrass, somewhat severely, and
+with an emphasis on the words "young ladies."
+
+"I think that it is easier to overlook them, and there is less
+temptation to whispering," replied Olive, feeling quite alarmed at her
+own temerity. "But perhaps it is only because I am accustomed to such
+an arrangement that I prefer it."
+
+"Very probably, ma'am. Many persons can only like what they are
+accustomed to."
+
+"At the same time," interrupted Mr. Jones, "there is no reason whatever
+why Miss McHenry should not have the seats arranged in her own way. I
+will come over with the boys and make the alteration."
+
+"My predecessor, the Rev. Mr. Snowden—" began Mr. Prendergrass.
+
+"Was a very excellent man, sir, though rather too fond of the rod.
+But he has been dead at least fifteen years, and the school has gone
+on better without him than ever it did with him. Do you see any other
+alterations to suggest, Miss McHenry?"
+
+Mr. Prendergrass looked on with lowering brows, while Olive went over
+the room, and seemed prepared to resign on the instant, if she should
+presume to recommend any other innovations. But she saw nothing else to
+change. She particularly admired the mat and commodious table and desk
+which had been provided for the teachers. It fortunately happened that
+this table and all its arrangements had been executed under the eye
+of Mr. Prendergrass himself, and from plans of his own. His eyebrows
+relaxed, and his manner grew more gracious, and by the time they had
+made the rounds of the boys' room, and he had discovered that Olive was
+a good Latin scholar, he was as amiable as possible.
+
+At parting, Olive adverted to her own inexperience, and requested
+permission to apply to him in any emergency. Mr. Prendergrass was
+evidently highly flattered, and they parted on the best possible terms.
+
+"He is a good creature, and really talented," said Mr. Jones, as they
+walked towards home, the girls having dropped behind, to communicate
+with some of their companions. "But you must hold your own with him.
+He is rather apt to be overbearing, and thinks every change from the
+customs of the Rev. Mr. Snowden must be wrong, of course."
+
+"I am not sure, but that is better than thinking that every change
+must be an improvement," remarked Olive. "I am afraid he was very much
+offended about the desks."
+
+"You need not distress yourself about that," replied her companion.
+"By next week, he will imagine the improvement to be his own. With
+all his faults, he is an excellent and conscientious man, and manages
+the school well. His great trouble is his overweening vanity, and his
+desire to have his own way. Every one laughs at him, but he seldom
+finds it out. If he does, he never forgives the laughter. I do not
+imagine you will have any trouble with him."
+
+It was nearly tea-time when Olive returned home. She occupied her
+evening in finishing her letter to Abby, wherein she exerted all her
+eloquence to prevail upon her sister to take a right course. She sent
+a civil message to Mr. Forester, feeling that she owed him a little
+reparation for her plain speaking, and went to bed with an anxious yet
+a hopeful heart.
+
+
+The next morning she was up before the sun. Never had she prayed with
+more fervor—never had the promises of Scripture been more full of
+comfort and encouragement to her. Her fears and tremors of the day
+before had almost vanished.
+
+And when, after the school had been opened by prayers and singing in
+the large hall, she took her place upon her own estrade in the young
+ladies' room, it was with a degree of calmness and composure, that
+surprised herself. As she glanced over the assembled ranks of girls,
+all sitting demurely, with their hands before them, she thought her
+materials not unpromising. About half of the fifty were daughters
+of substantial people in the village, well-dressed pretty girls,
+all lady-like and proper; the rest were daughters of farmers in the
+neighboring country, who went home to help in the dairy and kitchen
+in summer, and attended school in the winter, often working for their
+board in some village family. As was to be expected, these were not all
+very polished, or dressed in the best taste, but many of them looked
+good and sensible.
+
+The morning was spent in enrolling, examining, and classifying, looking
+over books, and ascertaining former progress. Olive wondered whether
+she should ever succeed in connecting their names with their faces,
+so as not to make perpetual mistakes—when she should distinguish Miss
+Julia Goodrich from Miss Sarah Goodrich, and both from the other Miss
+Goodrich, who was not related to them.
+
+The girls appeared to have been tolerably well taught, so far as
+concerned book-learning, hitherto, but they were deficient in general
+knowledge, and those school-manners which she had been accustomed,
+under Mrs. Granger's vigilant eye, to consider as essential. They
+lounged on their desks, and in recitation they kicked their feet, bit
+their fingers, and played with their books. Olive saw a good many
+little things which needed reformation, but she was aware that all
+reform should be commenced with caution and gradually carried on.
+
+In the afternoon, she organized a drawing-class, and this she found
+rather a difficult matter. A number of the girls had drawn a little:
+that is to say, they had copied a number of fancy castles and cottages,
+with their walls strikingly at variance with the recognized principles
+of gravitation, and shaded by trees, composed of a hard outline, filled
+up with little "M"s and "N"s; others had gone so far as to use colored
+chalks, and even to paint in oils. It had been a favorite maxim with
+the former drawing-master that in order to paint, it was not at all
+necessary to know how to draw, * and it may be imagined what sort of
+productions came out of the hands of his pupils.
+
+   * A literal fact.
+
+Of course, all these young ladies had no mean opinion of their own
+abilities, and Olive foresaw that it would be a much more difficult
+matter to teach them than though they had never touched a pencil. She
+had herself been drilled through Chapman's inimitable method, with pen
+and ink, by an indefatigable and really scientific teacher. And she
+resolved, if possible, to pursue the same course with her own pupils,
+though she foresaw that some of them were likely enough to be restive
+under it. Accordingly, she sent Anna Jones to Mr. Prendergrass, for
+two or three quires of foolscap, and a box of steel-pens. The girls
+looked at each other with surprise, and the surprise increased, as she
+proceeded to lay before each half a dozen' sheets of ruled paper, and
+to distribute the pens.
+
+Olive saw it, and smiled. "You will think my first lesson a simple one,
+young ladies," she said. "And yet I venture to say that not more than
+half of you will succeed at the first trial. It is only to draw a line
+from one side of the paper to the other, following the ruled line—so."
+She continued taking up a white chalk crayon, and drawing lines back
+and forth, from one side of the blackboard to the other.
+
+The girls were mostly quite confident of success when they began, and
+there was a general laugh when upon examination not one of the attempts
+was found perfect. Olive was glad to see them take it so good-naturedly.
+
+"You see," said she, "that it is not quite so easy as you thought. I do
+not know that I ever saw any one succeed at the first trial. It will
+require a great deal of patience, and some faith, for you to follow out
+this method, but I venture to promise, that you will never regret it."
+
+"Can not we draw pictures at all?" asked Anna Jones.
+
+"Certainly, my dear. I shall allow you to draw pictures every now and
+then, that you may judge of your own progress."
+
+The girls seemed very very well-satisfied, and addressed themselves
+seriously to the work before them, with one exception. This was Miss
+Julia Goodrich.
+
+Olive had discovered in the course of the day that this young lady was
+not wanting in self-conceit: she seemed to think that she knew enough
+already, and that it was something of a condescension for her to attend
+school at all. Olive foresaw that it would probably become necessary
+to set her down, but she did not expect the occasion would come quite
+so soon. Miss Julia was evidently offended at being put to such an
+exercise, and after three or four unsuccessful trials, she threw down
+her pen, and sat leaning on her elbow.
+
+"Do not be discouraged, Miss Julia," said Olive kindly; "you will soon
+acquire a better method of holding your pen, and it will be easier for
+you."
+
+"I am not discouraged," replied Miss Julia shortly.
+
+"Then do not waste your time, as we have none too much to devote to
+drawing."
+
+"I am not going to work at these things," said the young lady, pushing
+away the paper contemptuously. "I can draw well enough already, and
+only came into the class for practice. I want something pretty to do."
+
+Miss Julia's manner was sufficiently insolent, and her tone, if
+possible, still more so. She had been the terror of two or three
+teachers, and, in fact, had ruled matters very much her own way.
+Olive's perfect good-breeding had awed her a little, but she was
+determined not to give up the victory without a struggle.
+
+"What can you draw?" asked Olive, turning over her portfolio.
+
+"Any thing," returned Julia, triumphantly, taking this mildness as a
+sign of yielding. She never was more mistaken in her life.
+
+Olive left her portfolio open, and taking up a large white china
+inkstand, and sticking two or three pens into it, she set it on a book
+before her pupil, saying composedly, "Very well, draw that." And she
+turned again to her portfolio.
+
+There was a subdued titter among the girls, which she was not very
+sorry to hear.
+
+Julia looked annoyed and mortified. "Oh! I didn't mean 'that,'" she
+said. "Nobody could do such things as that."
+
+"You are mistaken," said Olive, gently; "any body who has made much
+progress in drawing can do such things. But perhaps you would prefer
+a picture." And she placed before her an exquisite drawing of Powers'
+Proserpine which she had done from a cast while at school, and a
+delicately-finished landscape in pen and ink.
+
+Worse and worse. The titter grew into a giggle, which Olive checked
+with a glance, and Julia's face grew redder and redder.
+
+"I can't do them things," she said, sullenly.
+
+"Those things," corrected Olive, still quite unruffled. "But I thought
+you said you could draw any thing."
+
+"There isn't a girl in this school that could draw either of those
+pictures!" said Miss Goodrich, positively, but looking just ready to
+cry, from anger and mortification. "I know there ain't!"
+
+"There are a great many in other schools, I assure you, and I presume
+most of those here would like to learn. But what can you do, then?"
+
+Miss Goodrich produced from the depths of her portfolio a remarkable
+production, purporting to be a landscape, but so utterly out of any
+thing like perspective, as to be absolutely painful to the educated
+eye. Trees a mile distant were represented of the same color, and with
+the same minuteness, as those near at hand; while a lake, upon which
+was a boat about half a mile long, descended towards the foreground
+at an angle of forty-five degrees. This specimen of art she handed to
+Olive, but by no means so triumphantly as she had at first anticipated:
+she began to have a dawning perception that she had made herself very
+ridiculous.
+
+Olive looked at it, making commendable efforts to keep the corners
+of her mouth in order. Then, taking a picture of about the same size
+and style from her own portfolio, she gently placed them side by side
+before her pupil.
+
+Julia looked from one to the other: her face grew redder and redder,
+and her eyes filled with tears. She took up Olive's sketch and examined
+it. Then looked again at her own, and, at last quite overcome, she
+burst into tears and sobbed aloud.
+
+Olive now really pitied the girl.
+
+"You had better go out into the air a little, Julia," she said, kindly;
+"Laura, my dear, go with your sister."
+
+The two left the room, and Olive, turning to the class, said, gravely:
+"I trust to your honor, girls, never to mention this little affair
+again, either to Julia or any one else. You will see the reason for
+what I say, if you think how you would like to be treated yourselves
+under such circumstances."
+
+The girls looked at each other with some surprise, but with evident
+approbation, and Olive saw that, so far as they were concerned, she had
+gained a complete victory. But she felt rather anxious about the effect
+upon Julia. She was, however, soon set at rest.
+
+"What did Miss McHenry say after I went out?" Julia asked of Anna
+Jones, in the short recess that Olive allowed them.
+
+"She said we were not to say any thing about the matter, to you or any
+one else, because we would not like it ourselves," replied her friend.
+
+Julia hesitated a moment, and then said:
+
+"Anna, do you think I made a fool of myself?"
+
+"I think you did," said the straightforward Anna; "and if I were you,
+I would tell Miss McHenry so, and ask her to overlook it. That will be
+the best way to make every one forget it."
+
+Julia meditated a moment, and then marched straight up to the
+drawing-table, where Olive was standing, surrounded by all the older
+girls.
+
+"Miss McHenry," she said, resolutely, but with a slight tremor in her
+voice. "Anna Jones says I made a fool of myself this afternoon—at
+least, I asked her if I didn't, and she said yes, and I am come to ask
+your pardon. I see that you are right, and that I don't know any thing
+about drawing. If you will let me come into the class again, I will do
+just what you want me to."
+
+"I am very glad to hear you say so, my dear," said Olive, kissing her;
+"it is always an excellent sign, when a girl is ready to acknowledge
+that she has been in the wrong. I shall be very glad to teach you all I
+know, and I have no doubt that you will soon learn to draw very well."
+
+Thus ended Olive's first contest in school, wherein, by the exercise
+of a great deal of forbearance, and a little ready wit, she put her
+opponent entirely in the wrong, and drew the sympathies of the whole
+school to herself. Julia was possessed of a great many good qualities,
+but she had been badly managed, both at home and in school. She was
+really very quick, and easily kept at the head of almost all her
+classes, and she had been put forward to think herself a good deal
+more talented than she was, by the injudicious praises of parents and
+teachers. Her strong will had never happened to have a stronger one
+opposed to it, and thus she had carried all before her. Olive foresaw a
+good many mortifications in store for her, but she hoped they would all
+end as well as the first had done.
+
+School was dismissed at half-past four, and Olive walked a little way
+down the street, hoping that the fresh air would cool her hot forehead,
+and quiet its throbbing. But she soon became conscious that she was
+being stared at from almost every house that she passed, and turned
+back again. Ruth met her at the door.
+
+"How tired you are," she said, kindly, "but you will soon get used to
+it. How did you get on?"
+
+"Very well, I believe," said Olive, wearily, "but really I hardly know."
+
+"You had better go up-stairs, and lie down till tea-time," said Ruth
+compassionately. "You will find it easier to-morrow, and still more so
+the next day, till by and by, you will hardly mind it at all."
+
+Olive was very glad of the encouragement, and still more of the rest.
+She threw herself upon the lounge, and closed her eyes without thinking
+of slumber, but by degrees her thoughts mingled themselves confusedly
+together, and she slept soundly, till she was aroused by the tea-bell,
+and rose feeling quite herself again.
+
+Mrs. Felton had prepared herself to sympathize with Olive's trials, and
+seemed quite provoked to think she had not had any. Mr. Felton inquired
+whether she had found the school pleasant, and on being answered in the
+affirmative, mildly remarked that some people found things agreeable,
+and others made them so, after which he finished his supper without
+another word, and then betook himself to his newspaper.
+
+"There has been a piano sent here for you to-day," said Ruth as they
+adjourned to the parlor.
+
+"A piano! From whom?" asked Olive, very much surprised.
+
+"Mr. Gregory sent it," replied Ruth. "It is one that Augusta Tower had
+before she was married. Mr. Tower bought a much finer one for her, and
+when she went home to live, she took it with her. So as one was enough
+in the house, and you had none, they thought you might as well use
+this."
+
+It was a plain but handsome instrument of good tone, and perfectly in
+tune. Olive was delighted. She was fond of music, and played very well,
+though she had not Abby's splendid talents, and she had sighed more
+than once over the prospect of being without a piano of her own.
+
+"A good many people thought Mrs. Tower ought to have sold her handsome
+piano, after her husband died," said Mrs. Felton, in her sighing voice,
+"but she hardly sold any of her things. It looks rather singular to see
+the minister's parlor the handsomest furnished of any in town."
+
+"I don't know why she should sell her things, mother," said Ruth. "They
+can not be in debt, and she had enough to support herself, though not
+as much as people generally thought she would have."
+
+"Ruth never will allow that Mrs. Tower can do any thing wrong," said
+Mrs. Felton, appealing to Olive. "Even when, the third Sunday after her
+child died, she played the organ just as usual, Ruth defended that."
+
+"We should not have had any music at all, if she had not, mother, and
+you know the Bishop was here. Augusta did not think she ought to give
+up all her duties because she was in affliction. I know she was blamed
+for going into Sunday-school so soon too, but I must say, I think she
+did right."
+
+"But she is always doing such queer things," persisted Mrs. Felton. "Do
+you know, Miss McHenry, she was married on Tuesday morning, and she
+went to church the Sunday before, though the invitations were all out."
+
+"I do not see any thing wrong in that," remarked Olive. "It seems to me
+that would be the very time I should want to go."
+
+"Especially as it was the Communion," added Ruth.
+
+"Well, my dear, very likely you are right and I am wrong. I always am,
+you know," said Mrs. Felton, in deeply resigned tones. "I only know,
+it would have been thought very strange when I was young, but people
+have improved since then, no doubt. I don't think I am quite a fool,
+however." And with these words, Mrs. Felton returned to the dining-room.
+
+Ruth suppressed a sigh and asked Olive to play something.
+
+"Mother thinks Augusta is very odd," she said, after a while, "but I
+hope you will like her. She goes out very little, but I think she will
+come and see you."
+
+"Did I understand you that she was a widow?" asked Olive.
+
+"Yes, her husband died five years ago—just two years after they were
+married. He was a cultivated, agreeable man, and was supposed to be
+very rich. But after his death, it was found that there was only
+about a thousand a year, for Augusta and her child. They lived rather
+expensively, I suppose, but they had no debts, and so Augusta kept most
+of their furniture and all her books and pictures. She furnished the
+Parsonage, which needed it very much, and she has lived at home ever
+since. Her child, a most lovely little creature, died last summer very
+suddenly. I was always fond of Augusta, when we were school-girls. But
+since her widowhood, I have loved her more dearly than ever."
+
+"Is she an only child?" asked Olive.
+
+Something passed across Ruth's face, like a sudden gust of wind across
+a still piece of water, but almost before it could be noticed, it was
+gone.
+
+"She had one brother, but he is dead," she said quietly.
+
+At this moment, the door-bell rang, and a Mrs. Dennison entered. She
+was a pretty, matronly woman, one of those "mothers in Israel," a
+certain proportion of whom are to be found in almost every church,
+efficient helps to the minister, faithful in their own families, and
+ready to lend a helping hand to every good work, but so quiet and
+undemonstrative that they are hardly appreciated till they are dead
+and gone. And then every one says on every occasion when assistance is
+needed: "How we do miss Mrs. Dennison!" She had come to call upon Miss
+McHenry, and invite her to the sewing society next day, at her house.
+
+Ruth advised Olive to go.
+
+"You will find yourself a little stared at, perhaps, but the meetings
+are very pleasant, and it is a good way to become acquainted with the
+people."
+
+"I never attended a society in my life," said Olive. "There was none
+connected with our church, and I believe aunt Rebecca had a prejudice
+against them. She thought they promoted scandal."
+
+"If scandal-loving people meet together, they will be likely enough to
+talk scandal," replied Ruth, "whether it be at a society or a party.
+But it has never been my fate to hear very much of it at society. I
+suppose they may be different in different places. Mrs. Dennison and
+Mrs. Gregory have been at the head of ours for a good many years,
+till the latter resigned in favor of Augusta, and they are neither of
+them people likely to encourage gossip. But I leave you to judge for
+yourself."
+
+Other callers came in, and Olive was introduced to several ladies and
+gentlemen, all well-bred, pleasant people. And when at rather an early
+hour, she laid her head on her pillow, it was with a very pleasant
+feeling of encouragement and thankfulness that the lines had fallen
+to her in such pleasant places. If she could have forgotten her great
+anxiety about Abby, she would have been quite happy.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER SEVENTH.
+
+IT was an old custom for school to be out on Friday afternoons at
+half-past three. Olive dressed for the society before she went to
+school, and Ruth was to call for her on her way. The two days since
+Wednesday had passed without any thing particular to mark them, except
+that one or two new scholars had entered.
+
+The girls, for the most part, were quiet, orderly, and studious, and
+very ready to attend to her hints with regard to sitting, speaking,
+and standing. Julia, especially, was quiet and meek to a degree that
+astonished all her companions, and seemed particularly to delight her
+sister, a meek, gentle, little thing, over whom she was rather given to
+tyrannizing. She took so much pains with her ruled lines that she was
+advanced to the next step in Chapman without delay, and Olive promised
+her that after three or four more lessons, she should have something
+really pretty to do.
+
+As Olive entered the dressing-room, she found one of the girls,
+named Melissa Tucker, waiting to speak to her. She was a pale-faced,
+pale-haired girl, with eyes of no particular color, and a disagreeable
+drawl to her speech.
+
+"What is it, Melissa?" asked Olive.
+
+"I think it my duty, Miss McHenry," said Melissa, solemnly, "to tell
+you that I saw Jane Ramsdell and Phebe Jones whispering twice this
+morning, and once yesterday."
+
+"Indeed," said Olive, proceeding to take off her bonnet, without
+manifesting any vital interest in the intelligence.
+
+"Miss Brown used to call them up and reprove them before the whole
+school, when they did so," persisted Miss Tucker, after waiting in vain
+for the commendation which she expected. Olive took no notice.
+
+"They whisper a great deal. I often see them, and I shall think it
+my duty to tell you, Miss McHenry, every time the girls do any thing
+wrong. Miss Brown used to say she was very much obliged to me for doing
+so."
+
+"I am not of Miss Brown's opinion," said Olive. "I do not want any one
+coming to me with stories of what the girls do. Any mischief which I
+can not see, I am willing to pass over. You would not have been very
+well pleased, I venture to say, Melissa, if Phebe had told me, this
+morning, when you were reading that story in school-time, though you
+knew very well that it was contrary to rules."
+
+Melissa looked confounded.
+
+"I saw you at the time," Olive continued, "but I did not see fit
+to notice it then. I beg, however, that you will remember the
+circumstance, when you give in your report to-night; and please to
+remember, also, that I will have no tale-bearers about me. You may have
+thought it your duty, as you say, to come and tell me, but as you see I
+do not wish you to do so again, it will be your duty in future to avoid
+it."
+
+Melissa followed her teacher into the school-room with as much anger in
+her heart as could well dwell there, and she mentally resolved to be
+revenged before many hours. The consternation was great, when before
+the calling of the merit-roll, Olive rose and said:
+
+"I have been told that one or two of the girls whispered this morning.
+I was sorry to hear it, and I hope, if it is true, that they will
+answer accordingly, and be careful not to offend again. I suppose you
+would all like to know who informed me." She paused, and a murmur of
+mingled expectation and indignation ran round the room. "I shall not
+tell you," she resumed, "nor in any way point out the offender. I
+presume she did what she thought was right. But once for all, I wish
+to say that I do not want any one coming to me with stories. I am
+tolerably clear-sighted myself, and moreover I trust to your honor not
+to try to deceive me. I hope I am safe in so doing," she said, looking
+round the room.
+
+Every hand was raised in token of assent. "If you know of any large
+girl, tyrannizing over and tormenting a little one, and can not stop
+her yourselves, or if you find out that any one in the school is
+plotting to set the house or the river on fire, you may come and tell
+me, but I do not wish to hear of any thing else. Now we will let the
+matter drop."
+
+She began to call the roll, and when she came to the name of Phebe
+Jones, Phebe answered with spirit:
+
+"Yes, Miss McHenry, and I should have answered so, if you had not been
+told. I wanted very much to know where the lesson was, and you were
+busy with the new scholars, so I asked Jane Ramsdell. She did not hear
+the first time, and I asked her again."
+
+"If that was all, Phebe, and I presume it was if you say so, I will
+excuse it this time," replied Olive. "But remember hereafter, I would
+rather you should wait a little than break a rule."
+
+Ruth now entered—basket in hand, and the girls all rose—another ancient
+usage at the entrance of a stranger, which pleased Olive very much.
+"Don't you think that a very pretty custom?" she said to Ruth, as,
+school being dismissed, they walked towards Mrs. Dennison's.
+
+"Very," replied Ruth, "and it has the sanction of antiquity with us.
+One of the teachers not long ago, tried to abolish it on the ground
+that it looked old-fashioned, but the boys and girls stood out so
+stoutly for it that she was forced to give it up. I do not think myself
+that there is any great danger, at the present time, of young people's
+being too deferential to their elders."
+
+When they arrived at Mrs. Dennison's, they found the room quite full,
+and all eyes were turned towards the new-comers. Olive felt her color
+rise a little, but she bore the battery of glances very well, and after
+speaking to Mrs. Dennison, who came forward to meet her, she followed
+her companion towards the centre-table, where sat the principal
+officers of the society, cutting out and arranging work, and marking
+patterns.
+
+They seemed to have their hands very full indeed. One of them was Mrs.
+Dennison herself, and the other a lady in the deepest mourning, whom
+Olive knew at once must be Ruth's friend, Mrs. Augusta Tower. Olive
+thought she had seldom seen a more lovely woman.
+
+Mrs. Tower was small and somewhat slight, with an exquisitely fair
+complexion, and a bloom as delicate as an infant's. Her eyes were
+large and well shaped, but their color was not so easily decided.
+Olive thought them like deep rills. All the features were clearly cut,
+and the eyebrows, especially, though not heavy, were remarkably well
+defined, not arched, but level, and turning a little down at the outer
+corner. Her soft brown hair was plainly dressed, under a widow's tucked
+crape cap of the simplest form. A chain and cross of beautiful brown
+hair were her only ornaments.
+
+"Some work?" she said, in answer to Ruth's inquiries. "Oh! Yes, as soon
+as I finish this pattern: but we are really overburdened to-day, so
+much has been ordered."
+
+"Can not I do that?" asked Olive. "I have a good deal of experience in
+drawing patterns."
+
+Mrs. Tower gladly accepted the offer, and made a vacant space at the
+overloaded table, where Olive found herself employed most of the
+time till dark, in tracing scollops, wheels, eyelets, etc. Ruth sat
+near her, engaged on a child's cambric apron. There was a buzz of
+conversation in the room, now and then enlivened by a hearty laugh from
+some of the younger ladies.
+
+It was really a very pretty sight. The parlors were large and neatly
+furnished, though in rather old-fashioned style, and opened together
+by folding doors. The back-room where there was a fire, seemed to have
+been taken possession of by the elderly ladies, half a dozen of whom
+were congregated around the windows, knitting and netting, and talking
+in subdued tones. Their conversation was not, perhaps, very deep or
+learned, but it was wholly kindly and good, and many times there
+dropped from the lips of these mothers in Israel, sentiments of wisdom
+and experience which many a learned man might lay to heart, and be the
+better for—yes, even that deeply-learned gentleman who lately declared
+in a lecture that no woman had ever added any thing to the sum of human
+intelligence.
+
+Several of these ladies were mothers and grandmothers of some of
+Olive's pupils, and came forward to speak to her, and she felt
+herself strengthened and encouraged by their kindly greetings. In
+the front-room were the younger part of the company, young married
+ladies with their sisters and cousins, numbering, like all assemblies
+of American women, a large proportion of pretty faces, clear,
+straightforward, intelligent eyes, and thoughtful brows.
+
+The murmur of talk, which had stopped for a little at Olive's entrance,
+soon began again, and Olive could not help fancying that she herself
+was sometimes the subject of conversation. She felt that if so, it was
+no more than natural, and strove not to feel any embarrassment. Two
+ladies near her, were talking about the Sunday-school. She listened
+with interest, and at last ventured to ask a question.
+
+"Are you interested in Sunday-schools?" asked the elder of the ladies,
+after replying to the interrogatory.
+
+"Very much theoretically, but practically, I know little about them. I
+have never taught at all."
+
+"We shall be very glad of your assistance in our school," continued
+Mrs. Sands; "for teachers are not too numerous among us. But perhaps
+you are sufficiently burdened already."
+
+"I have hardly tried it long enough to know," was Olive's rather
+embarrassed reply. "I shall be able to tell better after a few weeks."
+
+"I hope you feel the importance of the trust committed to you, Miss
+McHenry," said the other lady, whom she now thought must be Melissa
+Tucker's mother. "It is a solemn responsibility."
+
+"It is, indeed," said Olive, hardly knowing what to say.
+
+"You must be sometimes quite weighed down with the awful account you
+will have to give of your labors."
+
+"I try not to be weighed down," said Olive. "Do you not think it is
+possible to take too much responsibility upon one's self? After all, in
+this, as in many other things, we can only do our best, with all the
+light we can get, and leave the event to God." Olive spoke with some
+effort, and a slight blush.
+
+But looking up, she met Mrs. Tower's deep eyes raised to hers, with a
+sudden flash as it were, of approbation, and Mrs. Dennison too smiled
+an assent. Mrs. Tucker, however, looked doubtful, and a little annoyed.
+
+"That doctrine gives great encouragement to carelessness," she said.
+
+"I do not see how," Mrs. Tower replied. "Because, if we take ever so
+much responsibility, we can really do nothing without the will of God,
+you know."
+
+"I think there is great comfort in the idea, too, that all the
+responsibility does not rest with us," remarked Mrs. Dennison, in her
+subdued voice. "I know, after my little Sammy died, I used to go over
+and over all his sickness, and say to myself, if this had been done, or
+if that had been tried, perhaps he might have lived, though I really
+knew, all the time, that every thing had been done that could be. But
+by and by it came to me, as it were, that after all, as you say, Miss
+McHenry, the event was in the hands of One that could not do wrong, or
+make a mistake, and then I felt quite reconciled."
+
+Mrs. Tower bent over her work, and Olive heard a suppressed sigh.
+
+"Then you think, I suppose," said Mrs. Tucker, sharply, "that you may
+be just as giddy and careless as you please, and let every thing go,
+because God can bring it out right in the end."
+
+"That is hardly a fair construction, Mrs. Tucker," said Ruth, who had
+hitherto sat silent. "Miss McHenry said we were to do our best, and
+leave the event to God. That is, surely, a very different thing from
+being careless and giddy."
+
+Mrs. Tucker said something about hair-splitting which Olive did not
+exactly catch, and she was not sorry when the entrance of half a dozen
+of the school-girls occasioned something of a move and interrupted the
+conversation.
+
+Julia Goodrich, the leader in every thing, came up and asked for
+work—something easy, of course, for never was young girl at sewing
+society known to ask for any thing else. The rest soon gathered round,
+and at last came Melissa Tucker, with a countenance of melancholy,
+and rather an elaborate appearance of having been crying. Mrs. Tucker
+charged her with it at once, and with a faint smile, Melissa owned the
+soft impeachment.
+
+"You are so quick-sighted, dear aunt," she said, in her drawling tones.
+
+Olive was surprised, for the remarkable similarity in looks and tones
+had led her to think that they were mother and daughter.
+
+"What has been the matter with you? I insist upon knowing," said Mrs.
+Tucker, with emphasis, and looking daggers at all the other girls.
+
+"Nothing of much consequence," replied Melissa, mournfully, threading
+her needle.
+
+"Have your feelings been hurt, Melissa?" with still more emphasis.
+
+"I confess they have been deeply wounded, dear aunt, but I must submit.
+I know submission is our duty under trials. We must take it meekly when
+we are misunderstood and cruelly treated." And again she sighed deeply,
+with a significant glance at Olive.
+
+But Olive was earnestly engaged in comparing the pattern she was
+drawing with one which a lady was working, and this speech was lost
+upon her.
+
+Mrs. Tucker, however, followed the glance, and saw where it rested. She
+liked a scene, especially when she was able to take a prominent part,
+and she determined to get one up.
+
+"Melissa," she said, solemnly, and in tones which drew upon her the
+attention of all in her neighborhood, "I will know what you have been
+crying about, and who has injured your feelings. I know very well how
+forgiving you are, and I won't have you trampled upon by any one.
+No one, whether teacher or any one else, need think she is going to
+tyrannize over you, because you are timid and retiring. Tell me at
+once."
+
+Olive could not help hearing and understanding this, and she was
+beginning to feel painfully embarrassed as to what she ought to do,
+when she was unexpectedly relieved.
+
+"Yes, Melissa, out with it," said a rich, manly, and somewhat jovial
+voice behind her. "Let us hear who it is that has sent you to the
+society, like a Niobe on private exhibition, with your eyes and nose as
+red as a beet. Let us hear the doleful tale."
+
+Olive looked round with a feeling of inexpressible relief, to recognize
+her friend, Mr. Jones, who had come in with Mr. Gregory, in time to
+hear Mrs. Tucker's speech.
+
+The young lady darted a wrathful glance at the unsentimental
+interlocutor and said, in soft tones, which, however, trembled with
+rage:
+
+"You always will have your joke, dear uncle, but I don't mind it."
+
+"I don't know why you should; you are used to it by this time, one
+would think. But you look at Miss McHenry as though you wanted to bite
+her. What has she done to you—shut you up in a closet or put a fool's
+cap on you, eh?"
+
+"Not quite so bad as that," said Olive, laughing. "I never resort to
+extreme measures, except in extreme cases, and should hardly venture to
+proceed so far without a warrant from the trustees."
+
+"Oh! Don't think to shift the responsibility upon us," replied Mr.
+Jones. "The only use of trustees in a school is to pay salaries and
+keep the building in repair."
+
+"If you want any one locked up, you must put a lock upon the closet,"
+said Julia Goodrich. "The lock has been broken ever since I can
+remember."
+
+Mr. Jones promised to have the matter attended to at once, and
+professed his intention to provide a fool's cap at his own expense.
+
+Mrs. Tucker and Melissa seemed to give up all idea of a scene as soon
+as he appeared, but they were silent and sulky.
+
+And Olive was glad when a call to tea gave her an opportunity of
+changing her position. The tea-table, as usual upon such occasions, was
+bountifully spread, and to Olive's city eyes looked overloaded with its
+pyramids of hot biscuits and cold bread, and its baskets and plates of
+cake, cookies, crullers, etc. But she was very hungry, and she was glad
+to see every one make a business of eating. Three or four of the young
+ladies waited on the company, and every thing was accomplished with
+ease, and with no more confusion than served to provoke the smiles and
+laughter of the girls themselves, and the good humored raillery of Mr.
+Jones and Mr. Gregory.
+
+As they left the supper-room, Mrs. Dennison managed to say to Olive:
+
+"You must not mind Mrs. Tucker: we all know she is queer, but I think
+she is rather a well-meaning woman. As for Melissa, she is an affected
+little humbug, and always was, from the time she could talk. I dare say
+you served her right."
+
+"I did nothing to her except to let her alone," said Olive.
+
+"I presume not, and you need not fear that any one will blame you.
+She is pretty well-known by every one but her aunt, who thinks her a
+suffering angel."
+
+Olive's mind was quite relieved, but she could not quite get over the
+unpleasant impression she had received.
+
+Mr. Jones came up to her, as she was standing a little apart, and said
+the same thing as Mrs. Dennison, adding: "I suppose Melissa came to you
+with some of her stories, and you told her to hold her tongue. I am
+glad, if you did, for she bids fair to become the pest of the village,
+if she is not broken of this love of tale-bearing. The last teacher,
+Miss Brown, encouraged her in it, and more than half her trouble grew
+out of that very thing. Don't let it disturb you any more."
+
+Olive did not mean to let it disturb her, but she could not help
+thinking of it a good many times afterwards.
+
+A number of gentlemen, married and single, dropped in, in the course
+of the evening, and she was introduced to more people than she had
+any hope of remembering. For the most part, they were well-mannered,
+sensible men, and Olive liked them very well, except two or three of
+the younger ones, who, in trying to make fine gentlemen of themselves,
+had quite spoiled the original material, without succeeding in
+manufacturing any thing like a presentable article. They all appeared
+to be rather shy of her, and from some whispers which she overheard,
+she fancied that she was considered a very learned lady.
+
+A Mr. Landon, to whom she was introduced by Mrs. Tower, and with whom
+she had some conversation, struck her as being a very intelligent
+person. He seemed quite young, not more than three or four and
+twenty, Olive judged. But he had very manly, serious manners, and
+showed no lack of cultivation. He was tall and stout, but not
+particularly handsome, though he had fine eyes, and an exceedingly
+firm, well-cut mouth, and his face, usually grave and somewhat stern
+in its expression, flashed now and then with a smile which was quite
+remarkable for its suddenness and brilliancy. He was evidently a great
+favorite with Mr. and Mrs. Gregory, with whom he had a long talk in the
+course of the evening.
+
+"How do you like our society?" asked Mrs. Tower of Olive, as they were
+walking homeward under the convoy of Mr. Landon.
+
+"That is hardly a fair question, Mrs. Tower," said Mr. Landon,
+anticipating Olive's reply, "since even if Miss McHenry does not like
+it, she can hardly in politeness say so to the president of the said
+society."
+
+"Please to let Miss McHenry answer for herself: How do you like our
+society?"
+
+"Very much, I can sincerely say," replied Olive, warmly. "If this is a
+specimen, I think they must be a public benefit."
+
+"My father will tell you that he finds a great advantage in seeing
+his flock together once a fortnight in a sociable way," said Augusta.
+"And they offer another in another in affording a common ground upon
+which all the members of the church can meet each other; for even in
+a village like this, distinctions are apt to grow up. There are two
+or three families here, who will never come, and who have even tried
+to break up the meetings, but they do not exactly like to set their
+influence openly against my father's wishes. I am sorry they do so, for
+they are really pleasant people."
+
+"I think one family will come around yet," remarked Mr. Landon. "The
+Vander Heydens have shown signs of relenting lately."
+
+"And if they do, the Rusts will be sure to follow," said Ruth. "Anne
+Rust would be certain to do whatever Mrs. Vander Heyden did."
+
+Mrs. Tower promised to come and see Olive very soon, and Mr. Landon
+expressed an intention of availing himself of her protection to pay his
+respects, and so they separated.
+
+"You were not at the society last night," said Olive to Mr.
+Prendergrass, as they met in the hall next morning before school.
+
+Mr. Prendergrass looked amazed at the very idea.
+
+"No ma'am! I can not afford to spend my time so. Life is too precious
+to be wasted in visiting such assemblies. Is it possible, Miss McHenry,
+that you, with your cultivation and learning, can find enjoyment in
+such scenes?"
+
+"Do you think the effect of cultivation ought to be to make us avoid
+intercourse with our fellow creatures, Mr. Prendergrass?"
+
+"Really, ma'am, I can not say," replied the gentleman; "I do not know
+that I ever thought of it in that light. I have always considered it a
+waste of time to spend it in frivolous conversation and gayety."
+
+"But gayety need not always be frivolous," said Olive, "and a little of
+it is very refreshing after a day of hard labor; at least, I find it
+so. Don't you think your health might be better if you allowed yourself
+a little more relaxation?"
+
+"I do not know. Perhaps it might. I am obliged to you for the
+suggestion, Miss McHenry. I shall take it into consideration," he said,
+with his formal bow.
+
+Olive felt as though she had gained quite a victory.
+
+It is not our intention to give a detailed account of Olive's progress
+in school-teaching. Suffice it to say that she found her tasks growing
+easier, and herself gaining upon the confidence of her scholars, day by
+day. She had once or twice, a little trouble with Julia Goodrich, whose
+habits of domineering over her sister and of thinking herself wiser
+than any one else in the world were not to be overcome all at once.
+
+But Julia was affectionate, truthful, and capable of thorough respect.
+And after a little time, she found a pleasure in looking up to one
+so decidedly her superior, as she was forced to confess Olive to be.
+Little Sarah felt that the change in her sister was a very pleasant
+one, and Julia began to be a great favorite with her companions.
+
+Not so Melissa Tucker. That astute young lady, in calculating on
+the fine scene which she proposed to get up at the society, had
+quite forgotten that in so doing she was pointing herself out to her
+companions as the very person who had been the tale-bearer. She had
+been suspected before, and upon her entrance into the school-room the
+next morning, she was greeted by a peal of laughter, and many allusions
+more or less covert to her having carried her wares to an unprofitable
+market, etc., which did not fail to enrage her to the highest degree.
+At first she thought to gain sympathy by weeping, but being kindly but
+peremptorily desired to stop crying and learn her lessons, she gave
+that up, and took refuge in the most inveterate sullenness, which Olive
+did not notice at all.
+
+
+It was almost two weeks before she received a letter from Abby, though
+Mrs. Merton and Charlotte had both written only a few days after her
+departure. Abby's letter was rather short and constrained, and she made
+no allusion to what Olive had urged upon her; only she mentioned that
+her uncle had returned, and said that Mr. Forester was going to M., and
+would be away for some time.
+
+Mrs. Merton evidently had no suspicion of what was going on. She spoke
+of Abby with much affection, and though she mentioned that the child
+was somewhat low-spirited, she evidently ascribed it all to Olive's
+departure.
+
+   "I had no idea," she wrote, "that Abby could feel any one thing so long
+and so deeply."
+
+Olive felt sick at heart when she thought of the time when her uncle
+and aunt should discover how shamefully they had been deceived. In a
+second letter written soon after the first, Charlotte said that Mr.
+Forester had really gone to establish himself in M., and expressed her
+pleasure thereat.
+
+   "He is forever coming here, and it annoys my father very much, for he
+has not a good opinion of the young man, as you know very well. Abby,
+poor child, really pines after you. I do not think she has slidden down
+the banisters more than twice since you went away, and she hardly ever
+sings about the house as she used to. I am trying to study Greek, and
+by dint of stubborn perseverance, really make out very well. But after
+all, it does not seem to satisfy me. I want some object more than the
+mere acquisition of knowledge."
+
+In another letter, some time after, she wrote:
+
+   "Abby has taken to corresponding violently with those Miss Jennings
+from M. You will remember them. I never used to think she cared for
+them, but she seems to find great comfort in their letters."
+
+"The Miss Jennings of M.! Why, they left M. long ago," said Olive to
+herself.
+
+But upon a moment's reflection, the truth flashed upon her. It was
+a plan contrived between Abby and William Forester to conceal their
+correspondence. Deception upon deception! And she almost felt as though
+she were participating in it by being in the secret. Again with all the
+powers of her eloquence, she urged Abby to tell all, representing to
+her the inevitable consequence of the course she was pursuing.
+
+Abby's answer was short and decisive.
+
+   "It is too late now. I wish with all my heart that the matter had never
+been carried so far—that is, the concealment, for of my engagement
+I shall never repent. But now it is too late. William will not tell
+uncle, and I dare not. I must abide the issue; and after all, I hope it
+will turn out well. Do not fret about me, dear Olive; I am sure shall
+be quite happy in the end. Enjoy yourself in your new path, and leave
+me to mine."
+
+What should she do? The more she thought, the more unable she was to
+come to a decision.
+
+Mrs. Felton, who was a keen observer of faces, remarked to Ruth that
+Miss McHenry's letters did not seem to do her much good; for she always
+looked sad after every one that she received. Ruth had observed the
+same thing, and wondered at it, but she was possessed of too much
+delicacy to say a word.
+
+Between Olive, Ruth, and Augusta Tower there had grown up a very
+earnest and thorough friendship, and Olive often wished for Helen
+Monteith, between whom and the upright and downright Ruth, she often
+noticed a resemblance.
+
+Ruth was not at all accomplished, except that she had learned French
+by herself, at odd times, as she said. But she had read and re-read
+all the best English books in Mr. Gregory's library, and was almost
+as familiar as himself with the writing of those great fathers of the
+Church, whose voices find echoes in the hearts of all Christians, and
+will find them to the end of time. She had studied a great deal of
+history, too, and could give date and place to all the great events of
+the world, a thing which Augusta meekly confessed her inability to do.
+
+"I remember 1492," she was wont to say, "and 1649, and 1776, and I
+remember 1689, but I never can tell what happened then." To which Ruth
+was sure to reply, "The English Revolution, you goose."
+
+Ruth had read a great deal of poetry too, but it was chiefly among
+what are called the English classics. And many a lively discussion
+did she have with Olive and Augusta concerning the merits of ancient
+and modern English verse, wherein the "Morte d'Arthur" was arrayed
+against "Alexander's Feast," and "In Memoriam" against "Lycidas,"
+and even—frightful to relate—The "Drama of Exile" against "Paradise
+Lost." They always came together, however, on Spenser—dear, religious,
+chivalrous, pure-minded Spenser—and the beloved and quaint George
+Herbert, dear to every earnest heart that ever found him out.
+
+Mrs. Gregory sat by with her knitting or sewing, kindly smiling upon
+the earnest disputants, and now and then putting in a plea in favor of
+Cowper's "Task," Young's "Night Thoughts," and Thomson's "Seasons."
+
+Augusta Tower was as different as possible from Ruth. In the first
+place, her personal beauty was very remarkable, but of this she
+appeared to have very little consciousness. She was very accomplished,
+drawing beautifully, playing and singing as well as Abby herself,
+and having a very general acquaintance with all sorts of books. She
+loved music, and practised a great deal, at which Mrs. Felton wondered
+greatly, thinking that a widow ought not to care for such things.
+
+"You are very happy in loving music so well, I am sure, Mrs. Tower,"
+she said, one evening, after Augusta and Olive had been playing a
+brilliant duet together. "If I should lose my husband, I am certain I
+should never care for any of the amusements of the world again. Indeed,
+I don't now. I have renounced all such things."
+
+It was difficult to see how Mrs. Felton could have renounced music,
+inasmuch as she had never known one note from another. Augusta made no
+reply to her, but she afterwards said to Olive: "Do you, too, think it
+very strange that I should keep up my music?"
+
+"No," replied Olive; "I am extremely glad you do."
+
+"I never played very well till after I was married," she continued,
+"but Mr. Tower was extremely fond of music, and to please him, I set
+to work in earnest to make myself a good performer. It is from the
+same feeling that I keep it up now. It 'was' hard, at first, but I
+persevered, and I find my reward. Then, too, it gratifies my father,
+and I often win him to an hour or two of the rest he so much needs, by
+playing and singing to him."
+
+But after all, the great and surpassing charm of Augusta's character
+was her piety. It enveloped her like a golden halo, and every one who
+approached her felt its influence. Not that she ever put forth any
+claims to superior sanctity, for she felt none. But it was impossible
+to talk to her for fifteen minutes without knowing that love to God
+was the crowning motive of her life, and influenced all she said and
+did. Those who were favored with an intimacy with her felt themselves
+elevated and ennobled by the influence of it, and better prepared to
+meet the storms and waves of this troublesome-world.
+
+At a sick-bed, in the house of mourning, peace and consolation followed
+her steps like attendant angels, and those who suffered and wept felt
+the influence of her presence. In the Sunday-school, she was almost
+worshipped by the class of girls that she taught, and the worst child
+in the room was ashamed to be naughty under the gentle sorrow of her
+eye. Augusta had never been gay, in the ordinary society acceptation of
+the word. She felt that she could not be so, and keep wholly unsullied
+the white robe of her discipleship; and even when exposed to great
+temptations during her short married life, she had steadfastly adhered
+to her resolution of avoiding dissipation, large parties, and late
+hours. Happily for her, Mr. Tower was, in most things, like-minded with
+herself. He was one of the excellent of the earth; and when he was
+taken from her, after three short years, she was able to be thankful,
+amid all her desolation, that she had loved such a man.
+
+Ruth's piety, though perhaps as fervent, was of a different cast.
+She had much more to contend with in herself, being naturally hasty
+in temper and speech, and prone to dwell upon and magnify injuries
+and griefs. Augusta's faith had been implanted and nourished in her
+earliest years by the most religious and consistent of parents, and had
+grown with her growth and strengthened with her strength, while Ruth's
+had only arrived through the medium of bitter and aching sorrow.
+
+Very, very hard was it for her to bring every thought into captivity
+to the obedience of Christ—to rule rebellious feelings and bitter
+murmurings, and to guard the hasty tongue—long and long before she
+tasted, save at very rare intervals, the exceeding great joy of loving
+God in all and before all, and trusting all things great and small, to
+him. Thus her religion had a certain vein of sternness in it, which did
+not at all belong to Augusta's; and this continued even after she had
+found happiness—real happiness, as well as peace in believing. Though
+kind and sympathizing in real sorrow, she had, in general, but little
+patience with weak complaints and fretful murmurs, and oftentimes
+it was hard for her to bear her mother's continual low spirits and
+repinings, like a continual dropping in a very rainy day. Duty, with
+Ruth, was all in all. I can because I ought, was her motto, and well
+she carried it out.
+
+She was not so universally admired as Augusta, but she had a great many
+warm friends, especially since she had learned to rule her tongue.
+She was invaluable as a member of the church, the society, and the
+Sunday-school, and it was her own fault if she was not married. Certain
+it is that more than one farm, besides a flourishing law business,
+had been laid at her feet, but she rejected them all—some kindly,
+some sharply, according to the degree of assurance manifested by the
+profferers, and continued to live on quietly with her mother.
+
+With two such friends, Olive might have been very happy, if she had
+had no outside disturbing cause. She liked the place and the people,
+who, on their part, were all very kind to her, calling upon her, and
+inviting her to more tea-drinkings and parties than she knew what
+to do with. Late hours, happily, were not the fashion in Basswoods,
+and though some of these reunions were rather stiff, others were
+pleasant enough to make up. For Mrs. Dennison and Mrs. Jones she formed
+a warm attachment. They were not very cultivated women, but they
+were truthful, warm-hearted, and Christian, and besides, they liked
+her. Mrs. Tucker was not to be brought round. She continued sullen
+and distant, but luckily, she and her amiable niece had but little
+influence. Mr. Prendergrass, distant and grim at first, had evidently
+been won over. He lent her his books, of which he had a choice
+collection, he came to see her oftener than she cared to have him, and
+always seemed perfectly happy while listening to her playing. Nay, he
+astonished the small world of Basswoods by making his appearance at
+sewing society, and though he did nothing the whole time but stand
+bolt upright in a corner, he professed to have passed a very pleasant
+evening.
+
+Mrs. Felton's mind was very much exercised to know whether the Vander
+Heydens would come to call on Miss McHenry, and opined that it would
+be downright shameful if they did not. Miss McHenry cared very little
+indeed about the matter. She had been upon terms of intimacy with a
+great deal grander people than the Vander Heydens, and she did not
+think they looked particularly agreeable as she had seen them in
+church. They came, however, and Mrs. Felton's heart was set at rest.
+
+Olive thought Miss Vander Heyden a pretty, rather affected girl, and
+her mother a nice sort of person. But she could not imagine upon what
+they founded their claims to extra gentility, till she found that they
+prided themselves upon the fact of their family's having lived in the
+same place since the old French war. They invited her to tea to meet
+Mr. and Mrs. Gregory, and she called once afterwards, and then the
+intercourse ended. She sometimes heard of them from Mr. Landon, whom
+she saw frequently, and who was distantly connected.
+
+Mr. Landon had become rather a frequent visitor at Mrs. Felton's, and
+Olive was getting to like him very much. He was a grave, serious,
+hard-working man—so different from William Forester! Mr. Landon had not
+very long ago finished the study of law, and was succeeding to what
+promised to be a very lucrative practice in Basswoods, which was the
+county-town of E. He had begun to be noted as a speaker already, and
+older lawyers treated his opinions with respect, and pronounced him a
+rising young man. He loved his profession, he himself said, better than
+any thing else in the world, except his sister, a nice little girl of
+nine, who had been a great favorite with Olive from the first. They
+were orphans, and each possessed of a comfortable fortune.
+
+"I wonder you work so hard, Walter, when you and Louisa have plenty
+enough to live upon," said Annette Vander Heyden to him, one day. "Why
+don't you spend more time in company, and in indulging your taste for
+music and drawing?"
+
+"Because I want to be some body, Annette," returned Mr. Landon. "What
+is a man worth that spends his time in amusing himself?"
+
+"You are too ambitious," said Annette, gravely. "What would become of
+you if you were to lose your eyesight, or your voice, so that you could
+not practise?"
+
+"I should find something else to do, I suppose," was the reply. "I do
+not believe I shall ever be placed anywhere where there will not be
+work for me. Ambitious as you think me, and as I know I am, law is not
+the first thing with me, though I confess it is next to the first."
+
+Between Walter Landon and Olive there grew up, by degrees, a very warm
+and intimate friendship—friendship they called it, and neither of
+them dreamed of any thing else. Ruth and Augusta used to speculate,
+sometimes, upon this intimacy, and wondered whether it would grow into
+any thing serious, but there seemed to be no very great likelihood of
+it. Other people, of course, had their say about it, but Olive was not
+much in the way of hearing reports, and perhaps would not have cared if
+she had. Almost every one agreed that it would be a very good match,
+and an excellent thing, inasmuch as it would keep Miss McHenry among
+them.
+
+Olive was sorry that there was no vacation between Christmas and
+New-Year's—she wanted very much to go home and see how they were
+getting on. Her aunt was very indignant, and wanted her to come at
+any rate, but Olive knew that would not do at all, and prepared, with
+rather a heavy heart, to spend her Christmas as happily as she could at
+Basswoods.
+
+It passed very pleasantly, despite her homesickness. There was no
+school on Christmas-day, of course. Olive had ventured, supported by
+Mr. Jones, to introduce the daring innovation of decking her own room
+with evergreens, and it looked so pretty, that the young gentlemen,
+smitten with admiration, did the same, not only by their own peculiar
+territory, but also by the great hall, which they ornamented in
+beautiful style.
+
+Mr. Gregory preached one of his best sermons on Christmas-day, and the
+church was filled. All the Felton household went to the parsonage to
+dine, where they met Walter and Louisa Landon, and two or three of the
+school-girls, who lived too far away to go home.
+
+When they returned, at night, Olive found a large parcel and two
+or three letters awaiting her, which latter, much to Mr. Felton's
+amusement, were opened first. Aunt Rebecca's and Charlotte's were, as
+usual, kind, and filled with good wishes.
+
+Abby's was short, and very sad. She did not know what to do, she said,
+but she almost felt as though she could not live so any longer. Her
+uncle seemed as though he began to suspect something wrong, and she
+thought he watched her. Mrs. Dimsden kept dropping all sorts of hints
+and insinuations, and Laura was always prying about. She did not know
+what to do, but she felt that she must do something very soon.
+
+Olive felt distressed and sick at heart. She feared very much that Abby
+might take some hasty step, which would make matters ten times worse.
+One sentence, especially, alarmed her:
+
+   "If I were independent in money matters, like you, it would not be so
+bad, but now I must give an account of every penny I spend, and uncle
+complains that I am extravagant, and spend money foolishly. It is not
+for myself; entirely, if I do, but that I can not tell him, even if it
+would do any good. I used to think that the troubles and difficulties
+of people in love were all nonsense, but I know better now."
+
+Olive wondered whether she could be lending Mr. Forester money. Abby
+had never intimated to her that she held any correspondence with him,
+but she had inferred as much from what Charlotte had said about her
+writing to the Misses Jennings, at M. All her discomfort was renewed,
+and increased ten-fold.
+
+"I do hope," she said inwardly, with some degree of impatience, "that I
+shall never be in love, if it always makes people act so like fools."
+Poor Olive!
+
+The parcel, on being opened, was found to contain a variety of pretty
+remembrancers and a jar of West-India preserved oranges, of which Mrs.
+Merton, in a very polite note, begged Mrs. Felton's acceptance.
+
+Mrs. Felton was very much pleased. She said she had never seen any
+since she married, and promised herself the pleasure of sending Mrs.
+Merton some preserved apricots, which she had great skill in preparing,
+when Olive returned home in the summer.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER EIGHTH.
+
+THE winter wore away happily, on the whole. Olive thought that, aside
+from her secret trouble about Abby, she had never spent a pleasanter
+one. The girls all liked her, and she had very little trouble with
+them. The drawing-class got on finely, having advanced from rudimental
+lines and squares to heads and figures; and some of them had begun
+drawing from objects with a decision of hand and correctness of eye
+which fully justified Chapman's method.
+
+She sometimes got very tired, and was usually unable to study much,
+but she had abundance of the sort of society that she liked best, and
+as many new books as she cared to read, and she looked forward with
+pleasure to the prospect of returning to her labors after the spring
+vacation. How rich she felt, when her first quarter's salary was paid
+into her hands! She had no idea that she could enjoy the possession of
+money so much.
+
+As spring came on, there began to be a good deal of sickness in
+Basswoods, especially among poor people, of whom there were a good many
+in the lower part of the town. Measles and hooping cough prevailed, and
+took on malignant forms; and severe quinseys and influenza prostrated
+whole families at once. Those whose households were unvisited set
+themselves seriously to help their afflicted neighbors, and for a time
+little else was done.
+
+Ruth and Augusta were among the busiest, and were away day and night.
+But Ruth would not allow Olive to assist them in watching.
+
+"You are obliged to be employed all day, whether you feel able or not,"
+she said; "and you must have your nights to rest. Besides, you will be
+going home in two or three weeks, and if you do not look well, they
+will not let you come back." And Olive was fain to acquiesce, since she
+could not help herself.
+
+The school was much diminished in numbers, as many of the girls from
+out of town had returned home to avoid the sickness, and she was able
+to give a great deal of time to those that remained, much to her and
+their satisfaction.
+
+Her uncle had promised to come for her, and she had at last resolved,
+by the advice of Mr. Gregory, to tell him all, when he came. He would
+then have time to get over the first heat of his anger before he saw
+Abby, and in that case she was sure of his acting reasonably. She found
+her heart very much lightened after she had formed this resolution,
+though she felt that it would require all her strength to carry it out,
+and would have given almost any thing to be safe the other side of it.
+
+
+There remained now only one more week before her return home, and that
+was the week before Easter. There was service in the church every
+evening at four o'clock, and by exact punctuality she found herself
+able to attend. Mr. Gregory's plain, earnest lectures did her a great
+deal of good, and she felt stronger and better for every one of them.
+
+One evening, after church, she was walking, slowly homeward, by
+herself, enjoying the beautiful twilight, and thinking over what she
+had just heard. She had not seen Mr. Landon for several days. He was
+very much engaged in his office, and, moreover, he did more than his
+share in taking care of the sick. It was very pleasant to have such a
+friend. It occurred to her, several times, that she should miss him a
+great deal if he should go away, as he now and then talked of doing,
+but she did not dwell upon that idea. If she were afraid to do so, she
+did not acknowledge the fear to herself.
+
+She was presently joined by Dr. Gordon, the oldest physician in the
+place, who had been her fast friend from the beginning. He looked very
+weary, and Olive remarked it.
+
+"Yes," said he, "I am indeed very tired and very sad. I do not see
+where all this is to end. At first, the sickness seemed confined to the
+poor people, but now it is share and share alike with all classes. Poor
+Annette Vander Heyden is much worse."
+
+"I did not know she was sick," replied Olive. "Is she very unwell?"
+
+"She is very ill, indeed," said the doctor. "I fear she will never be
+any better. It will be a sad blow to the family, as well as to Walter
+Landon."
+
+Olive felt as though some one had struck her, but she asked, quietly:
+"Why to him?"
+
+"They have been engaged a long time, I suppose," was the answer. "I
+know it used to be talked of, even when Walter was at college."
+
+"They will make a fine-looking pair, will they not?" said Olive, in a
+tone of quiet interest. "I think Annette is a very agreeable girl."
+
+"Yes, barring her absurd pride of family, I do not know a nicer young
+lady; and Walter was always a favorite of mine. Good-by, Miss McHenry,
+and pray take care of yourself, or we shall have you down, too."
+
+"I shall take care," said Olive, lightly. "You know I am going home
+next Wednesday. Will you please send word to school, by Catharine, how
+Annette is? I shall feel very anxious to know."
+
+The doctor promised.
+
+Olive bade him good-night and went into the house, and up-stairs to her
+own room. A heavy, hard pain was pressing at her heart, and she felt as
+though she should suffocate. But she had only one distinct thought—that
+she would not think of any thing just then.
+
+Very quietly she took off her bonnet and brushed her curls, and then,
+going down into the sitting-room as usual, she set about correcting a
+large pile of compositions, going over and over every one, with even
+more than ordinary care and deliberation. Phebe Jones came to take a
+music lesson. She seemed to think Olive was rather more particular than
+usual about touch and time, and she told Anna, when she returned, that
+she had never seen Miss McHenry when she came so near to being cross.
+
+"You look pale, Olive," said Ruth. "I am afraid you are over-working
+yourself."
+
+Olive admitted that she was tired, and should be glad of some tea. Mrs.
+Felton bustled about to expedite matters, and to provide something
+better than usual, and Olive exerted herself to eat, that she might
+not be disappointed, but it was very hard work. She sat up as late as
+usual, apparently reading attentively, but in reality seeing nothing
+but blank confusion upon the page before her, while repeating to
+herself that she would not think of it till bed-time.
+
+Bed-time came at last, and she sat down alone with her trouble, and
+looked at it, almost as though it had been a bodily presence of evil
+which it was necessary to face and conquer. What was it, after all?
+Walter Landon was going to be married and what of that? Had she not
+said to herself, twenty times, that this was nothing but friendship?
+Vain subterfuge—miserable lie! She knew better—she had known it all the
+time. Abby might well say that Olive could not understand her feelings,
+but she knew them now. She had blamed and pitied—Abby herself had never
+sunk so low as she.
+
+She set herself to examine all their intercourse from the first, but
+there was no comfort in that. She could not blame Walter, for he
+had never showed a mark of any thing but mere friendship. No; the
+truth was plain—she had given away her heart to a man who had never
+asked for it, and who did not care for it. She had weakly, miserably
+permitted herself to go on, and be drawn in, to the shipwreck of
+peace, self-respect—every thing. She had not seen him for several
+days: perhaps he had discovered her secret, and was keeping away in
+compassion to her.
+
+Her eyes overflowed with hot tears at last, but they gave her no
+relief. She could see nothing, think of nothing, to extenuate her
+miserable folly. She had gone on, quietly placing upon a stranger all
+her hopes and wishes, and setting him in the place of God, till at last
+she discovered that she was dependent upon him for all her happiness
+that she was inexpressibly wretched at the thought of his caring for
+any one else. There was no excuse, no comfort, no hope. She had loved
+an idol more than God, and God had forsaken her, while she had found
+too late that her idol was not hers, but another's. What should she do?
+
+She slept, at last, from very weariness of body, but when she awaked,
+the load was still upon her heart, dull, heavy, oppressive, crushing
+her very life out. She prayed, but without comfort, and set about her
+daily task, with a feeling of relief at having something tangible to
+do, wherewith she was forced to occupy her thoughts and hands. Nobody
+could have seen any difference in her, except that she was rather more
+particular than usual about the lessons, and had, perhaps, more than
+ordinary patience with the dullness and stupidity of some of the girls,
+and the perverseness of others. She was careful to ask Catharine Gordon
+about Annette.
+
+"Papa thinks she is much worse," said little Kitty, with a quivering
+lip. "He said so this morning. Oh! Won't it be too bad if she should
+die!" And the child burst into tears, for the families had long been on
+terms of intimacy, and she was very much attached to Annette.
+
+Olive tried to comfort her, while her own tears fell fast. They
+relieved her a little, but she dared not indulge in them, and was soon
+as calm as ever.
+
+"Olive; do you feel able to watch to-night?" asked Ruth, at the
+tea-table, after she had studied Olive's face a little.
+
+"Yes, indeed," replied Olive, glad of any duty that promised
+self-forgetfulness for a time. "Where?"
+
+"With that Mrs. Beman and her child," said Ruth. "You know they both
+have the measles. The child is rather better, but it is doubtful
+whether the woman can live through the night."
+
+"I don't believe Olive is able," said Mrs. Felton. "She looks tired
+now. Why don't you ask Mrs. Gregory, or Mrs. Dennison?"
+
+"Mrs. Gregory is sick herself, and Mrs. Dennison and Mrs. Jones are
+engaged," said Ruth, briefly.
+
+Olive knew that they were going to Mrs. Vander Heyden's, where some of
+the younger children had been added to the sick-list. "I am quite well,
+and shall be glad to go," she repeated. "I suppose you will set out
+early."
+
+Ruth assented, and before nine they were at Mrs. Beman's. They were
+poor but respectable people, of the sort who, without any visible
+drawback, never seem to prosper, but always remain about where they set
+out. The house was clean and comfortable, and they seemed to have every
+thing necessary for the sick.
+
+The husband and eldest daughter, a girl of twelve or fourteen, though
+worn out with fatigue, were unwilling to retire as they thought there
+was a change in the sick woman.
+
+And on going near the bed, Ruth's experienced eye saw at once that
+the messenger was there. She whispered to Olive to take the baby, and
+relieve the little girl who was quietly weeping by the fireside.
+
+The poor woman was quite sensible, and able to speak a little. She had
+been but a plain, hard-working person all her life, but the majestic
+presence of death was with her, and all around her felt its power. In
+few but earnest words, she commended the little one to its sister's
+care.
+
+"God deal with you, Sally, as you deal with that motherless child. I
+have tried to be a mother to you, and to treat you, in all things, like
+my own, and I have loved you as well, for aught I know. Be a good girl,
+Sally, and take good care—"
+
+"I will, mother," sobbed the child. "I'll be good to Liddy."
+
+The dying woman seemed satisfied, and lay quietly for a little while.
+"I've known trouble and sorrow of all sorts," she said, opening her
+eyes again, "more than most of my age, but I've had help through it
+all. It's most over now. Give me my baby. You look sad, young woman,"
+she remarked, as Olive laid it in her arms. "If you've got trouble,
+don't rest in yourself, nor in any man. Trust in the Lord. God bless
+you all!"
+
+These were her last words, and in a few minutes, she was gone.
+
+Some of the neighboring women came in and laid out the body. Mr. Beman
+and Sally retired to rest, and Olive and Ruth were left with the child
+and its dead mother. Neither of them felt inclined to talk. The little
+one seemed disposed to slumber, and Olive held it in her arms and
+looked at its wasted features, but her thoughts were far away. The
+bitter feeling of injury was gone, but she felt very, very desolate.
+All the sorrows of her life returned upon her; her own orphaned
+state—Abby's misconduct and danger—Laura's estrangement—her uncle's
+probable anger—all were present to her at once. She felt as though she
+could never remember a time when she had been happy. Past, present,
+and future seemed shrouded in blackness, and she could see no hope
+of any light. She prayed for submission to the will of God, and that
+Annette's life might be spared, and by and by she found that she could
+be thankful that she had only herself to blame, and not Walter.
+
+In the long, long hours before daybreak she had made her final resolve.
+She had a profession—that certainly was a comfort. The experiment of
+teaching had been tried with success. If she could never be happy
+again, at least she could be useful, and with all the earnestness of
+her nature, she consecrated herself to the work, and resolved with
+God's help to follow it out.
+
+Still, with all this, her heart would not be quiet, but throbbed and
+struggled under that crushing pain: still her weary spirit repeated
+over and over again: "How wretched, how very wretched I am!"
+
+The child passed an easy night and was clearly much better in the
+morning. Neighbors came in and promised to attend to every thing
+necessary.
+
+As Ruth and Olive were walking homeward at sunrise, the bell began
+to toll. They looked at each other, but did not speak. The age was
+struck—twenty—and then two strokes followed to show that a woman was
+dead.
+
+"Annette!" said Olive.
+
+"It must be, I suppose," Ruth replied, sighing, "Poor child!"
+
+Olive could not repress her tears as she thought of the blooming girl
+she had so lately seen in health and spirits, and they flowed still
+faster as she thought of Walter's grief—grief which she could not
+comfort and hardly sympathize with.
+
+Ruth pressed her hand, but said nothing. She had partly guessed the
+state of the case the day before, but doing as she would be done by,
+she had not said a word. She advised her friend to lie down, and try to
+sleep, and Olive was glad to obey.
+
+All that day she suffered greatly, but the next—the resurrection
+morning—she found relief at last. In the presence of the white carved
+symbols of infinite love and infinite sorrow, she seemed to hear a
+whisper of peace; her load grew less oppressive with every prayer, and
+when after the distribution of the elements, she rose from her knees,
+she found she had left it behind her. The Comforter was come to her,
+and she found strength to say and to feel, from her heart's depths,
+"Not my will, but Thine be done."
+
+Before, she had felt that she should soon die, and rejoiced in the
+thought, but now the language of her soul was: "I shall not die but
+live and declare the loving-kindness of the Lord."
+
+"Olive," said a well-known voice behind her, as they were going out of
+church.
+
+She turned and saw Walter. He looked pale and worn out with grief and
+watching.
+
+"Will you go and see Louisa?" he asked, as he offered his hand. "She
+is at Mrs. Jones's, and needs some one with her; not that she is ill,
+but she is worn out and nervous. Can you go and stay with her this
+afternoon?"
+
+"I will," replied Olive, grateful for the proof of confidence.
+
+"When do you go?" he asked.
+
+"On Wednesday; possibly on Tuesday, if my uncle comes."
+
+"I may not see you again before you go," said Walter. "They feel as
+though they could not spare me there, and Agnes is very sick. God bless
+you, Olive, till we meet again."
+
+"God bless and comfort you, Walter," returned Olive calmly.
+
+She went at once to Mrs. Jones's, and found Louisa suffering from
+severe nervous headache, the result of fatigue and excitement; for
+she was a delicate child, and somewhat spoiled withal. Olive found it
+necessary to exert a little authority over her to make her stop crying,
+and the effort necessary to take care of her patient was useful to
+herself.
+
+Louisa was better in the evening, but she begged hard to have Olive
+stay with her all night, and Olive consented.
+
+
+She was walking slowly homeward the next morning, glad that there was
+no school, when she saw a carriage drive up to Mrs. Felton's, and a
+gentleman get out, who she was sure was her uncle. Her heart almost
+failed her as she hurried forward. She had not expected him till
+evening at soonest, and not very much till Tuesday. He must have left
+home Sunday night, an action so contrary to all his habits as to fill
+her with fear of she knew not what calamity.
+
+"Your uncle is come," said Ruth, meeting her at the door, and observing
+her evident agitation with surprise.
+
+Olive waited not to hear more lest her resolution should fail her
+entirely, but hastily opened the parlor-door. Mr. Merton was standing
+opposite it, and her heart sunk as she met his glance.
+
+"I bring you pleasant news, Miss McHenry," were his first words, "but
+no doubt you are prepared for them, since you have been in the secret
+from the first."
+
+"What is the matter, uncle?" Olive rather gasped than spoke.
+
+"Read that letter," handing her one with the seal unbroken. "It will
+probably tell you more than I can."
+
+Olive tried, but the words swam before her eyes, and her head whirled.
+She looked at her uncle imploringly. "I can not see," she said; "do
+tell me!"
+
+"Your sister Abby is married," replied Mr. Merton abruptly, "and I
+suspect—" "You knew as much before," he was going to add, but he saw
+Olive's lips grow white, and before he could reach her, she fell to the
+ground.
+
+It was the drop too much in the full cup, and for the first time in her
+life, she fainted away.
+
+Happily Ruth was at hand, and Mrs. Felton was out.
+
+Olive soon revived, and Ruth left her to attend to some household call.
+
+"When, uncle?" asked Olive, after a short silence.
+
+"Olive," said her uncle, "I used to think I could trust you implicitly,
+and even now, I on hardly believe that you would deceive me. Before
+I reply to any questions, tell me all you know about this miserable
+business."
+
+Olive roused herself and went through with the story, from beginning to
+end.
+
+Mr. Merton listened fixedly. "Why did you not write and tell me?" he
+asked, when she had finished.
+
+"I hoped to prevail upon Abby to do so herself, and I thought that
+would be much better. Besides, what right had I to betray her secret? I
+had no authority over her, and she told me in confidence."
+
+"But you made yourself privy to her subterfuge in corresponding with
+that man!"
+
+"I did not know for certain that she did correspond with him," said
+Olive, "though I guessed it from something Charlotte said. I had made
+up my mind to tell you all when you came, and risk the consequences."
+
+"Then she has told you nothing about this precious marriage?"
+
+"Not a word, sir! I have all her letters, and can show them to you,"
+she added, proudly, for she was beginning to feel indignant. "Perhaps
+you will believe them, unless you choose to accuse me of forgery as
+well as lying."
+
+"Sit still," said her uncle. "I have no desire to see her letters,
+or to hear from her again. My only object is to clear you from the
+imputation of being engaged in the conspiracy, which, it seems, she
+has been carrying on for a year or more. I believe we have done you
+injustice, and I beg your pardon. I know that you must feel it more
+than any of us, my poor child!" he continued, kissing her forehead.
+
+"How did it happen?" asked Olive, after an interval of silence. "How
+did it all come out?"
+
+"It came out by degrees. I could not help seeing that something more
+was the matter with her, than merely your going away, and I began to
+watch her. It seems, too, that your aunt Dimsden had her suspicions,
+even before Forester went to M., but instead of coming and telling me,
+as she should have done, she talked to other people—"
+
+"Just like her," said Olive, bitterly.
+
+"I do not defend Mrs. Dimsden," Mr. Merton continued. "She did very
+wrong, and so I have told her. Well, as I have said, my suspicions were
+aroused, and I watched her, but I could find nothing to justify them. I
+wish now I had questioned her about it."
+
+"Oh! Why didn't you?" exclaimed Olive, in renewed grief. "If you had
+done so kindly, she would have told you all; I am sure she would. She
+was naturally so open. O my child, my darling child!"
+
+"I was wrong, Olive, but I acted for the best. After a time, Forester
+returned, and came at once to our house, where he met with a cool
+reception from all but Abby. I had made up my mind to demand a full
+explanation from him, but I was frustrated. He had hardly sat down
+before Mrs. Dimsden and Laura came in. Charlotte, who I think had
+no suspicions, asked after the Misses Jennings, with whom Abby had,
+apparently, been maintaining a correspondence for three or four months.
+Forester looked confused and annoyed, and Abby colored deeply.
+
+"But before either of them had time to reply, Laura exclaimed, 'Why,
+Charlotte, the Misses Jennings went to Kentucky long ago—just after
+they left school.'
+
+"The truth flashed upon me at once, and I was going to speak, when
+Forester said, with perfect ease: 'Are you sure, Miss Laura? Do you
+make a study of the M. directory?'
+
+"Abby said not a word, but I saw that she was ready to drop. I did not
+want to get up a scene before them, and turned the conversation. They
+did not stay long, and as soon as they were gone, I turned to Abby and
+demanded an explanation—Mr. Forester standing by. She began to cry, of
+course, and I could get nothing out of her.
+
+"Forester then took the matter upon himself, and informed me that he
+had been engaged to Abby almost a year, and intended to marry her, with
+my consent, if I would give it—otherwise without it. He complimented
+me, by saying that but for my prejudice against him, and harshness
+when I was opposed, they should have confided in me, and declared that
+you had known and approved the whole matter from the beginning. This
+enraged me more than any thing else, and I ordered Abby to leave the
+room and go to her own apartment.
+
+"Mr. Forester had the coolness to follow her to the door, and exchange
+some words with her in German, which, of course, I did not understand.
+He then returned and requested to know what my intentions were with
+regard to Abby. I can not tell you all about it, but the end was, that
+I ordered him to leave the house.
+
+"I went up to Abby's room, but I found she had locked herself in, and
+I could get nothing from her. It was the same in the morning—she would
+take no breakfast, nor open her door, and I went to the office, hoping
+that she would be more reasonable by night. When I came home, I found
+Mrs. Merton and Charlotte in great alarm. The door had not been opened,
+nor any movement heard. I had then no hesitation in forcing the door,
+but she was gone—" He paused, perhaps to give himself time to control
+his voice, which certainly trembled very much.
+
+Olive was weeping bitterly.
+
+"She had taken very little except what she had on. She even left behind
+a watch and chain I gave her at Christmas, and all her trinkets, all
+her letters, except the last one from you."
+
+"And did she leave nothing for me?"
+
+"Yes, a note—the one you have in your hands."
+
+Olive began to read aloud, but Mr. Merton interrupted her: "Read to
+yourself, Olive; I do not wish to hear one word from her."
+
+She read accordingly:
+
+   "I am going to be married at last, Olive. I did not mean to take such a
+step till you came home, but they have driven me to it. Uncle is just
+as harsh and unjust as I knew he would be, but I thank him for all his
+kindness to me, and aunt, too. I shall take nothing more with me than I
+can help. I will write just as soon as I am settled anywhere."
+
+"Did you hear nothing of her afterwards?" Olive asked, as soon as she
+could speak.
+
+"Nothing, except a notice of their marriage in the paper that evening.
+I told you I wished to hear nothing more. She has taken her own course,
+and she must abide by it. This subject will necessarily be renewed when
+we reach home, but till then, I wish to have it dropped entirely. You
+look very much worn and fatigued," he said kindly. "I am afraid you are
+working too hard."
+
+"Oh! No," replica Olive, "I like it very much, and do not usually get
+over-tired, but there has been a good deal of sickness in town, and I
+have been nursing as well as teaching. One of our loveliest girls died
+yesterday."
+
+"Then you find the place pleasant?"
+
+"Very much so. I should have been quite happy the last few months if my
+mind had been at ease about Abby. The school is a very nice one, and
+there are a good many agreeable people here. I enjoy the idea of coming
+back very much."
+
+"Do you know a young Mr. Landon?" asked Mr. Merton.
+
+"Yes, very well," replied Olive, thankful that she could answer
+steadily, and without coloring. "He is a great favorite here, and
+thought very talented."
+
+"He is a rising young man," replied her uncle. "I heard him make an
+argument, not long ago, which would have done credit to many an older
+lawyer. I should like to meet him."
+
+"You will not be likely to do so, now," said Olive. "The young lady who
+died yesterday, Miss Vander Heyden, was his cousin, and they were said
+to be engaged."
+
+"I thought of returning to-night," said Mr. Merton, rising, "but I see
+you are unfit for it. We will go to-morrow morning, if you please, and
+till then you must take the time to rest. I shall stay at the hotel,
+and must go down now, and secure a room."
+
+When he was gone, Olive sat a little while, perfectly still. It did
+not seem possible for her to make an exertion. She was stunned and
+overwhelmed to such a degree, by the events of the last few days,
+that she seemed to have lost power of sense or feeling. She was still
+sitting in precisely the same attitude, when a shadow fell before her,
+a soft arm was passed round her neck, and Augusta sat down beside her.
+
+Olive laid her head on her shoulder. "Have you heard?" she asked.
+
+"I have heard nothing, love, except that you were in trouble, and had
+received sad news from home? Is it your sister?"
+
+Olive assented, silently.
+
+"I did not know she was ill," said Augusta, after a little pause.
+
+"It is not that," said Olive. "It almost seems as though the news
+of her death would not be half as hard to bear. She is married,
+Augusta—married against my uncle's wishes, and without his knowledge,
+to a man utterly unworthy of her. She has carried on a course of
+deception for months, and I see plainly that my uncle is too angry ever
+to forgive her. And I might have prevented it all by a little decision
+and courage."
+
+"How?"
+
+Olive went over the outline of the story, adding at the end:
+
+"I might have prevented the whole thing if I had staid at home, as
+they wanted me to—if I had not been so proud, and so set upon being
+independent. It is all my fault."
+
+"I do not think so," replied Augusta, gently. "You acted for the best,
+so far as I can see, and that is all we can ever do. I do not really
+see that you could have acted otherwise."
+
+"I might have told uncle at first."
+
+"You forget that he was away, and you had no opportunity. Besides, you
+were doubtful whether you had the right to do so. No, Olive, you are
+wrong, now—naturally so, but still wrong. Don't you remember what Mrs.
+Dennison said about her little boy's sickness and death? Even supposing
+that you made a mistake, which I do not allow—"
+
+"You do not know, Augusta," said Olive. "You have not tried it. I do
+not mean that you have not suffered, but not in this way—not by the
+unworthiness of those you loved. I could bear any thing else."
+
+"Come and see if there be any sorrow like unto my sorrow," repeated
+Augusta, involuntarily. "Olive, if your sister has sinned, she is yet
+young, and has time for repentance before her. Others have sinned much
+more deeply, against more warnings and opportunities for repentance,
+and at last been cut off in the midst of their sins. I had a dear
+brother—" She paused. "We had little comfort in his life or death."
+
+"I am impatient, I know," said Olive, sighing, "but I have had so much,
+the last few days. I thought I had made up my mind to patience and
+self-forgetfulness, but this has overcome me entirely. I feel as though
+I could not have it so."
+
+"God has comfort for all sorrows, Olive."
+
+"I used to think so, before I had any. Nay, I thought so no longer ago
+than yesterday, but to-day all seems dark as night again."
+
+"Have patience, my child, and accept the bitter cup. He will send the
+sweet in his own time, and if we have no pleasures in this world, we
+shall always have duties; that is one comfort. And, after all, it is
+but for a day."
+
+"A long, long, dreary day, Augusta."
+
+"Sorrow 'may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.' When
+we look at the past through dying eyes, it will seem very short,
+believe me; and we go to no uncertain future, my love. We know in whom
+we have believed, and He will make all plain. Once more, dearest,
+have patience! Drink of the cup which He drank, and be baptized with
+the baptism that He was baptized withal. It is indeed not joyous, but
+grievous, but it worketh the peaceable fruits of righteousness to
+them that are exercised thereby. For look how high the heavens are in
+comparison of the earth—so great is the Lord's mercy to them that fear
+him. Look how far, also, the east is from the west—so far hath He set
+our sins from us. 'Like as a father pitieth his children, so the LORD
+pitieth them that fear him.'"
+
+"Augusta, I know I am impatient and wrong. I will try not to be so."
+
+"I did not mean to reprove you, dearest."
+
+"No, you comfort me. You have done me good, but I feel so weary and
+desolate. I have counted so on seeing Abby, when I went home. She has
+always been so near my heart. Oh! I ought never to have left her. I
+knew what a child she was, and it was my duty to have staid with her,
+but I did not see it then. And now she is gone—lost to me forever!" And
+again she gave way to a violent burst of grief which both perplexed
+and alarmed Augusta, and she glanced at Ruth, who had just entered, as
+though to ask what should be done.
+
+"Olive," said Ruth, with a little more of austerity than usual in her
+tone, and taking both her hands, "this will never do. You have duties
+before you which will require all your strength, and this is not the
+way to fit yourself for them. You must come up-stairs and lie down, and
+let me do your packing. You are worn out, for want of sleep, and will
+be sick to-morrow. Come with me, like a good girl."
+
+Olive obeyed like a child. She was, indeed, utterly worn out and
+exhausted. Augusta sat down beside her, and read in her soft voice,
+selections from Scripture. In a few minutes, Olive's sobs grew less
+frequent, her eyes closed, and her friend had the satisfaction of
+seeing her in a deep sleep, from which she arose composed and refreshed.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER NINTH.
+
+OLIVE'S heart sank as she approached home the next evening, and thought
+of the reception she was likely to meet with, and how sad it would be
+without Abby.
+
+Mr. Merton had been very kind all day, but he had said little, and
+not one word about the matter that was clearly occupying both their
+thoughts. She dared not speak herself, for he had positively forbidden
+her to renew the subject till they reached home. She knew how Mrs.
+Merton would feel, very well. Not only her affections (and Abby had
+always been very dear to her) were wounded, but also her pride, and
+that in the tenderest point. Aunt Rebecca had very particular notions
+upon the subject of the education of young ladies. Her ideas of
+propriety were very strict, and she was often shocked by the freedoms
+indulged in by some of the young ladies in town. She prided herself
+upon the care with which her daughters and nieces had been educated,
+and more than one young girl, who had been secretly indignant at seeing
+Olive and Abby held up to them as models, would triumph greatly over
+this result of the boasted system.
+
+As they rode up from the depot, Olive leaned back in the carriage, and
+shut her eyes, while her soul poured itself out in an earnest prayer
+for strength and patience.
+
+"Be calm, Olive. You shall be cleared from suspicion," said her uncle,
+as he assisted her to alight.
+
+Mrs. Merton stood at the door, and received her husband warmly, as
+did Charlotte, but neither of them took the least notice of Olive,
+till they entered the drawing-room, when Mrs. Merton said, in her most
+freezing tones:
+
+"Your room is prepared, Miss McHenry. Perhaps you will have the
+goodness to retire to it at once."
+
+Olive did not move from the attitude in which she had drawn herself up,
+but she turned her eyes to her uncle. He did not speak.
+
+"Before I sit down in this house, Mrs. Merton," she returned, in tones
+as calm, though not so cold as her own, "I must demand to be freed
+from the unjust suspicion to which I have been subjected. My uncle, I
+believe, is convinced of my innocence. If he chooses to justify me, I
+shall be glad. If not, I shall be obliged to seek some other shelter
+for the night."
+
+Charlotte's eyes flashed fire. Mrs. Merton turned to her husband.
+
+"I fully believe Olive to be innocent," said Mr. Merton, with
+emphasis. "She has convinced me that though she knew of Mr. Forester's
+engagement, it was only the night before she left home that she was
+informed, and nothing but indecision respecting the best course of
+action prevented her from informing me immediately. I think she mistook
+her duty, but I fully believe that she acted from the best motives."
+
+"I am very glad to hear you say so," replied Mrs. Merton, unbending at
+once. "Olive, I am sorry you met with such a cold reception, but you
+must remember that we have had great provocation. Let me untie your
+bonnet," she added, kissing her kindly; "it is a sad coming home foe
+you, my poor child, when we had hoped to be so happy together."
+
+Olive struggled to repress her tears, and succeeded in doing so till
+she found herself alone in her own room—Abby's room. It was just as
+she had left it. The last book she had been reading was turned down
+upon the open writing-desk, and Abby's personal property was strewed
+about the room in the picturesque confusion usual with her, when she
+had no one to pick up after her. The key was in her trinket-box, and
+on opening it, Olive perceived that she had left all her ornaments.
+Nothing was missing from the room but the old Bible and prayer-book,
+her mother's gifts. Olive wondered how she could have the heart to take
+them.
+
+The bitterness of her grief returned with ten-fold violence, and when
+Mrs. Merton herself came up to look after her, she was so alarmed at
+the state in which she found her usually composed and undemonstrative
+niece that she sent her to bed at once, administered ether and other
+restoratives, and sat by her till she fell asleep.
+
+
+At breakfast next morning, Olive was treated just as usual by her uncle
+and aunt, but Charlotte did not relax in her stiffness at all. She
+treated Olive with ceremonious politeness, but exchanged no more words
+with her than were exacted by the courtesies of the table. Olive felt
+the coldness very much, for she had unconsciously relied a good deal
+upon Charlotte's sympathy and friendship.
+
+The meal passed almost in silence, no one seeming inclined to talk. As
+they were about rising from table, a servant brought in the letters and
+papers: there were two letters for Olive, and her heart beat fast as
+she recognized on one of them Abby's well-known handwriting.
+
+Mr. Merton saw it, too. "Where is she?" he asked, when he saw that
+Olive had finished reading it.
+
+"She is at M.," replied Olive, handing him the letter, but he repelled
+her hand.
+
+"That is all. You will please to pack up all her personal property,
+and I will see that it is forwarded, and then I require that all
+intercourse with her on the part of this family shall cease."
+
+"Do you mean that prohibition to apply to me, uncle?" asked Olive.
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"I can not consent to it, sir," she replied, respectfully but firmly.
+"I can not promise to cease all intercourse with my poor Abby. That she
+has done wrong I do not deny, but I love her none the less, and I can
+never forget that she is my sister. She will need friends now more than
+ever, and I certainly shall not desert her."
+
+"Olive McHenry, you greatly forget yourself," said Mr. Merton sternly.
+"Do you know to whom you are speaking?"
+
+"Hardly," replied Olive, almost involuntarily. "You are so unlike
+yourself that I might well be excused for forgetting it. But what if
+Abby has sinned?" she went on, rather surprised at her own courage.
+"What are we, that we should be unforgiving? Have we no need of mercy
+ourselves? No, I can never consent to give up my sister, till she gives
+me up. And then, she is such a child—so young in years, and so much
+younger in mind. It seems but yesterday that she was playing with her
+dolls, sitting on the floor by your side, uncle! Do you remember the
+first night you came to our house—the night after mother died, and how
+you found Abby lying on the bed by her, and could not coax her away,
+till you came and took her, and she cried herself to sleep in your
+arms? It seems such a very little while ago!"
+
+"We will let the subject drop for a little, I think," said Mrs. Merton,
+rising. "You will have a good deal to do this morning. Have a little
+patience, my dear," she continued, when Mr. Merton had left the room.
+"Your uncle is deeply wounded, and feels as I do, that we ought to show
+our disapprobation of Abby's course, but I don't think he will apply
+that to you."
+
+"Especially as Miss McHenry was in the secret from the beginning," said
+Charlotte, "and quite as much to blame as the poor child herself."
+
+Mrs. Merton was leaving the room, and did not hear Charlotte's remark.
+"You are determined to suspect me, Charlotte," said Olive.
+
+"I know you, Olive McHenry, as I knew you in school. You blinded me for
+a little time with your well-acted candor and friendliness, but my eyes
+are opened. I am sorry they are, for I thought I was going to have an
+intimate friend, for once in my life."
+
+"You think—" Olive began.
+
+"I know," said Charlotte, interrupting her, "that Abby, simple child
+that she is, would never have been able to carry on such a system of
+deception, unless some one had supported her in it. You thought, no
+doubt, that it would be a very nice thing for you to be my father's
+favorite niece, and to have one less to share the property and you
+imagined that an elopement would be a good way to get rid of Abby, and
+illustrate your own virtues. You may find yourself mistaken, as deep as
+you think yourself."
+
+"I shall not reply to your insinuations, Charlotte," returned Olive.
+"They are too foolish and unreasonable to merit an answer. You yourself
+promised to watch over Abby while I was gone: how you have fulfilled
+that trust you yourself best know. But there is no use in talking. I
+thought you had outgrown your childish jealousy, but it seems not."
+
+With these words, she left the room and went up-stairs, where she
+occupied herself in looking over Abby's clothes, to see if they needed
+any putting in order. Among them she found all the letters which she
+had written during the winter, and she was wondering at Abby's leaving
+them behind, when Charlotte entered, with her hands full of books.
+
+"These are Abby's," she said, shortly.
+
+"Thank you," Olive quietly replied; "please to lay them on the table."
+
+Charlotte lingered a little, looking over the books. After a moment,
+she said, in the same abrupt way, "Can I help you?"
+
+"No, thank you," replied Olive, surprised at the offer.
+
+But Charlotte did not go; she seemed looking for something.
+
+"Charlotte," said Olive, after a short struggle with her pride, "would
+you rather believe me innocent or guilty?"
+
+"Innocent, if I could," was the reply.
+
+"Here are all the letters I have written to Abby since I left home. If
+you wish, you can look them over, and satisfy yourself. I do not ask
+you to, but you can if you choose."
+
+She laid the package down by her cousin, and busied herself with the
+drawers. But, glancing in the mirror a few minutes afterwards, she saw
+that Charlotte was deeply engaged in their perusal. Neither of them
+spoke for almost an hour. Then Charlotte said, laying down the last
+letter:
+
+"Olive, you are innocent. I have done you great injustice, and I ask
+your pardon."
+
+"It is granted," said Olive, taking the offered hand, and kissing her.
+
+"What do you mean to do about corresponding with her?" asked Charlotte.
+
+"What would you do yourself in such a case?"
+
+"I am afraid I should be too angry with her to care much about it,"
+replied Charlotte. "If my sister had acted as Abby has, I should never
+forgive her."
+
+"Then you would make up your mind not to be forgiven yourself, I
+suppose?"
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"'If ye forgive not men their trespasses, neither will your Heavenly
+Father forgive your trespasses,'" Olive repeated. "Which of us can
+afford to cherish anger upon such conditions?"
+
+"I never understand that sort of talk," said Charlotte; "it all sounds
+cant alike to me."
+
+"Just because you don't understand it. If should call your pleasure in
+geology cant, you would consider that rather a narrow-minded view, I
+think."
+
+"We won't dispute it now," returned Charlotte. "Don't some of these
+clothes need repairing? Abby's things generally do. Let me put the
+stockings in order."
+
+Olive consented, and they busied themselves together all the morning.
+They were just about concluding their labors, when a light step came
+up-stairs, and Laura entered. She seemed quite subdued, and wept
+bitterly as she embraced her sister. Charlotte left the room.
+
+"I have not been here before since she went," said Laura, after a
+little; "isn't it shameful?"
+
+Olive assented silently.
+
+"It seems almost worse than if she were dead," she continued. "To think
+she will be so near, and yet we can never see her, or even write to
+her."
+
+"Don't you mean to write to her, Laura?" asked Olive.
+
+"I can't. Aunt Dimsden declares I shall have nothing to do with her
+from this time. She says, if Abby were at the door, and it stormed ever
+so hard, she would not let her in."
+
+"She ought to be ashamed of herself then," said Olive, indignantly.
+"Her own marriage was not so very proper, from all I have heard, that
+she need be the first to throw stones at poor Abby."
+
+"That is the very reason, child! Don't you know that people who have
+done any thing questionable in that line themselves, are just the ones
+who think it necessary to be ferociously proper ever afterwards?"
+
+"She may be as proper as she pleases, but I am not going to desert the
+poor child for any of them," said Olive. "I have told uncle that I mean
+to write to her, and moreover I shall stop a day in M. when I go back,
+on purpose to see her."
+
+"But they say—at least aunt Dimsden says that Abby has done so very
+wrong that she ought to be made an example of."
+
+"I don't deny that she has done wrong: nobody feels it more than I do,
+and I do not think she ought to be treated as though she had not. But I
+do say, that it is quite too much, to require us, her sisters, to give
+her up, and so leave her to go more and more wrong."
+
+"You are independent, Olive, and can do as you please," said Laura,
+sighing. "I wish I was."
+
+"You can be, in the same way that I am."
+
+"Oh! No. I never could make up my mind to teach school, or to work for
+a living. I could not consent to any thing which would lower my social
+position."
+
+"Why, Laura, I never was of so much consequence in my life, as I have
+been since I went to Basswoods."
+
+"Yes, in such a little country place as that, but not among stylish
+people."
+
+"But you used to be very contented, Laura: you thought no one was as
+happy as yourself."
+
+"Aunt Dimsden is not so kind as she was," said Laura. "She is very
+cross sometimes, and when she is vexed, or mortified, she bestows all
+her ill-temper upon me. She has been very angry with me, for presuming
+to refuse an offer without consulting her—some body that lives not a
+hundred miles from Berkley Square, you know."
+
+"But, Laura—!"
+
+"Oh! Yes, I know all you would say—that he is dissipated, and a fool
+besides, but you know they are rich and very fashionable, and his
+sisters paid me a great deal of attention. I think all the family
+were anxious for the match, but he was quite too bad. I suppose I am
+bound to make a rich marriage at last—indeed, it is the only way I
+see to escape from dependence, but this one was rather too much, and
+I dismissed him somewhat suddenly. They were all very angry, and aunt
+thinks I am almost as bad as Abby. She told me she expected I would go
+the same way, and it will not be for want of sufficient provocation if
+I don't."
+
+"But you would not marry for money alone, would you?"
+
+"Not perhaps for money alone; I would not marry a really bad, vulgar
+man, if he was ever so rich. But if he had position, and style, and so
+on, as well as money. I don't believe in all that silly, sentimental
+nonsense of love, and all that, it only makes fools of people, just as
+it has of Abby."
+
+"But it is not absolutely necessary to marry at all," said Olive.
+
+"I do not agree with you there, sister mine. I think it is necessary,
+if a woman wants to be any body that she should marry, unless she
+retires into a nunnery or something. I hope you don't mean to be an old
+maid, Olive."
+
+"I think it most likely I shall," said Olive, sighing in spite of
+herself, "but I hope to be some body nevertheless. Will you let me come
+and stay with you, when I grow too old to work any longer?"
+
+"Of course," said Laura, "if I have any home myself. But now tell me
+what you intend to do about Abby? Do you really mean to write to her?"
+
+"I really do. I would obey uncle in almost any thing else, but in this
+I must follow my own conscience and my own feelings."
+
+"You can afford it," said Laura, "because you are independent, but I
+dare not. Aunt has been very angry on account of the refusal, and she
+says, if I do not mind what she says about this, she will leave me to
+take care of myself. But if you write, give my love to Abby, and tell
+her I would write too if I could—and send her these ear-rings; Maria
+Lewis gave them to me, but I do not care any thing about them, and aunt
+has never seen them. I have no money to buy her any thing new, and I
+wanted to send her something.
+
+"Did I tell you that aunt Dimsden is coming over to spend the
+afternoon? I believe in my heart, she is glad of Abby's marriage, and
+the triumph over aunt Rebecca, till I am ready to stone her. You know I
+never was very fond of aunt Rebecca myself, but I am sorry for her, and
+I think aunt Dimsden ought to be ashamed of herself. I can tell you,
+Olive, you think I am so well off—"
+
+"I never thought so, Laura," interrupted Olive. "I would rather go out
+as a seamstress than live as you do."
+
+"Well, every one else thinks so, at any rate, but I am sometimes
+tempted to say I will marry the first presentable man that comes along,
+to escape from it."
+
+"Do give up that idea of marrying for money, Laura! I can not bear to
+think of it. You will repent as surely as you do."
+
+"Well, I don't know," said Laura, lightly. "If you marry for money, you
+are pretty sure of getting it, at any rate, and if you marry for love,
+you may be deceived, you know. Now, if you have finished your packing,
+do dress, and come down-stairs. I dare not face them all alone."
+
+"I am sure, Laura, uncle would not be angry at you for refusing Sam
+Lewis. You know there is nothing he detests like an idle, frivolous
+young man."
+
+"I don't believe he knows any thing about that," returned Laura, "but I
+am always afraid of him."
+
+After luncheon, Laura sat down to a handkerchief she was embroidering,
+and Olive to write.
+
+She had almost forgotten Augusta's letter, till she saw it in her
+desk. It was just like Augusta herself, and Olive felt refreshed and
+comforted by it. Among other news of the place, she said:
+
+   "Jenny Vander Heyden is better, and the sickness is abating. Mr. Landon
+is going away, and he told me he meant to go and see you before his
+return."
+
+Olive's heart beat somewhat faster at the thought, and she almost
+wished Augusta had not told her. After twice reading the letter, she
+put it carefully away, and began writing to Abby. She sighed, as she
+thought of the unsatisfactory intelligence she had to convey, but there
+was no help for it, at least at present. As Mr. Merton said, she had
+taken her own course, and she would have to abide by it.
+
+She was just finishing, when Mrs. Dimsden came in. Olive greeted her as
+warmly as she could, and then asked to be excused, as she was anxious
+to close her letter in time for the post. As she placed it in the vase
+appropriated for the purpose, Mrs. Dimsden unceremoniously took it out
+of her hand, and read the direction: "Mrs. William Forester, Eagle
+Hotel, M."
+
+"So you have been writing to Abby, have you?"
+
+"Yes, ma'am," replied Olive, coolly.
+
+"I have forbidden Laura to do any thing of the kind," said Mrs.
+Dimsden, drawing herself up: "I will not allow any young person in my
+family to have any intercourse with a girl who has no more sense of
+propriety than Abby. I have never thought it necessary to make as much
+fuss as some people," with a glance at aunt Rebecca, "but I do think my
+girls generally turn out well."
+
+Mrs. Merton had a way of looking at a forward or impertinent person, as
+though he or she were a superfluous chair, or an intruding cat, which
+she sometimes brought to bear upon her sister-in-law with great effect.
+
+She was silenced for a moment, and replaced the letter.
+
+At this moment, Charlotte entered, and looked into the vase as she
+passed.
+
+"Charlotte," said her mother, "have I not often told you that it was
+very rude to look at the direction of another person's letter?"
+
+Now Charlotte knew very well that this reproof was not in the least
+intended for her; she took it very coolly, and sat down by Laura to
+admire her work.
+
+Mrs. Dimsden colored furiously. "Perhaps, if you had kept a more
+careful watch over your young ladies' letters, sister Merton, some
+things might not have happened that have happened. I know my mother
+always looked out for me."
+
+"Was that the reason you never did any thing improper when you were
+young, aunt Dimsden?" asked Charlotte carelessly.
+
+It was a home-thrust, for Miss Ashly had been considered rather an
+eccentric young lady, and there were some circumstances in her career,
+and in the way she became Mrs. Dimsden, which were more curious than
+edifying. That lady did not like to provoke a contest with Charlotte,
+who was not in the least afraid of her, and by superior coolness
+usually came off conqueror. She turned her head, and murmured something
+about impertinence, but did not venture upon a retort.
+
+Mrs. Merton conversed as politely as possible with every one in the
+parlor, and was especially gracious to Olive.
+
+Charlotte, very contrary to her usual custom, devoted herself to Laura,
+with whom she very seldom condescended to talk when she could help it.
+Laura was very low-spirited, and hardly said a word, though she seemed
+grateful to Charlotte for her kindness, and clung to Olive in a way
+very uncommon with her. Mrs. Dimsden contradicted her at every word she
+said, and seemed out of all patience with her.
+
+When Mr. Merton came in to tea, he looked into the vase as usual, and
+took out the two or three letters it contained.
+
+"Your letter is over weight, Olive," he said, balancing it on his
+finger: "you must add another stamp."
+
+He smiled kindly as he handed it to her, and she received it with a
+glad heart, rightly judging that it was a tacit concession of the point.
+
+"Thank you, uncle," she said in a voice too low to be heard by Mrs.
+Dimsden, who was anxiously watching the scene, in the pleasing
+anticipation of an explosion.
+
+He smiled again, and walked away, putting the letter in his pocket.
+
+But Charlotte had not finished yet. She was, as we know, not at all
+an amiable young lady, and she was extremely jealous of any affront
+offered to her mother. She felt that her debt to Mrs. Dimsden was not
+quite discharged.
+
+"Papa," said she, "do you know Sam Lewis?"
+
+"Yes, I know him. Why?"
+
+"What is he like?"
+
+"Like a fool!" replied Mr. Merton, who was not particularly well
+disposed toward idle young men just then.
+
+"A great many young men are that," said, Charlotte sententiously. "Is
+that all there is remarkable about him?"
+
+"No," said Mr. Merton: "he is remarkably idle, remarkably dissipated,
+and a remarkable torment to every one who ever tried to do any thing
+with him."
+
+"That seems a pity," remarked Olive. "They used to be quite nice
+people, especially Mrs. Lewis. I liked her very much."
+
+"They were nice people. It is the ambition to be fine and fashionable
+that has spoiled them—that is, the younger part of them, for Mrs. Lewis
+is just as gentle and pleasant as ever. I often feel sorry for her,
+when I see how unceremoniously she is treated by her children. I tried,
+for his father's sake, to do something with Sam, but it was useless. He
+has not even sense enough to be governed. I heard the other day that he
+was going to be married, but I hope it is not true. I should be sorry
+to think that any girl could throw herself away upon such an apology
+for a man."
+
+Charlotte's triumph was now complete, but she had too much sense to
+parade it openly. And for the rest of the evening, she was as polite to
+her victim as Mrs. Merton herself.
+
+"How could you have the heart to annoy aunt Dimsden so?" said Olive,
+half-reprovingly, half-laughing, as they went up-stairs together, after
+the guests had departed. "You are downright revengeful."
+
+"If Mrs. Dimsden annoys my mother when I am by, she may make up her
+mind to be paid in her own coin," replied Charlotte. "Besides, I felt
+sorry for Laura, who I saw was very uncomfortable. I really pity the
+poor girl."
+
+"I feel very anxious about Laura," said Olive, sighing; "she is, as you
+say, very uncomfortable, and she does not seem to have any thing to
+sustain herself upon. I am afraid she is acting upon a wrong principle."
+
+"How do you mean?"
+
+"She thinks she must certainly marry some body, in order to be
+independent and have a position in the world, and that is all she lives
+for. She has, or seems to have, no idea of any higher motive in life,
+nor has aunt Dimsden for her that I can see. Think of her wanting Laura
+to marry Sam Lewis!"
+
+"Did not my father give him a charming character?"
+
+"I hope she will be satisfied, and not torment Laura any more about
+him," said Olive. "But what is the child to do? Either aunt Dimsden is
+angry with her about something, or else she is getting tired of taking
+care of her—perhaps both. Laura feels as uneasy as possible under
+her state of dependence, and yet she has a fixed idea that it would
+be a terrible degradation for her to do any thing towards supporting
+herself; and she feels as though a certain amount of luxury and a
+certain position were absolutely necessary to existence. Only look at
+all this and think what a temptation it places in her way, to marry
+the first tolerably respectable man with a large fortune who presents
+himself, and you will understand why I am so full of trouble about her."
+
+"But does Laura think you have degraded yourself?" asked Charlotte.
+
+"Aunt Dimsden does, I know," replied Olive. "As for Laura, I think she
+considers me an exception to all general rules, a sort of oddity. She
+went so far to-day, as to say she envied me."
+
+"I am sure I do," said Charlotte, sighing; "not that I am not perfectly
+well off at home, and as happy as those around me can make so perverse
+a person as I am, but I never can feel as though I was working to any
+purpose."
+
+"I am sure your Greek and drawing come on nicely," said Olive. "I
+never saw any one improve so much as you have. If you were a pupil of
+mine, I should be proud of you. That copy of your father's portrait is
+beautiful. I wish you would give it to me, to take back to Basswoods."
+
+"I meant it for you, as well as one I begun of my mother, and I am very
+glad you like them. But Olive, I am not contented with the acquisition
+of knowledge merely for the sake of knowledge. I want to do something
+with it. In short," said she, smiling rather bitterly, "I am, without
+any particular reason for it, about as discontented as any body can be.
+I wish some one would tell me what I want."
+
+"I think I can tell you," said Olive, "but I rather doubt whether you
+will believe me."
+
+"May I come and sleep with you?" asked Charlotte.
+
+"I shall be glad to have you," replied Olive, "if you will let me do
+just as I would if I were alone."
+
+"Of course," said Charlotte, "we will each take our own way."
+
+Charlotte occupied herself with a book, while Olive went through with
+her usual reading and prayers. She had herself given up even the
+semblance of prayer, ever since she left the nursery.
+
+"Now Olive," said she, as they were curling their hair afterwards,
+"tell me what I want."
+
+"I think you want the two sacraments, as Mr. Gregory says—the baptism
+of duty and the communion of love. Are you as much in the dark as ever?"
+
+"No; I think I partly understand you, but please explain."
+
+"First, then, you want to do every single thing because it is right do
+it. This rule applies to all actions, great as well as small. Moreover,
+you need to have such a love to God, and such a desire to promote his
+glory that you will do every thing that is right because it is pleasing
+to him, and avoid every thing that is wrong for the same reason. Are
+not these two motives which cover all things?"
+
+"Perhaps so, if one could understand them. I confess I can not. I do
+not know what you mean by love to God. Can you tell me, for I suppose
+you think you love him?"
+
+"I know I do."
+
+"What sort of a feeling is it?"
+
+"It is the same feeling that we have toward our best earthly friends,
+though as much higher and purer in its character, and greater in its
+degree, as the object is greater and purer. There is no selfishness
+mixed with it, and no distrust, since the object is absolutely perfect
+in goodness and truth. If there is happiness in loving a fallible
+mortal, who may change or die at any time, must there not be much more
+in loving and being loved by one in whom is no variableness, neither
+shadow of turning, and who has the will and the power to order all
+things as is best for us?"
+
+"I can not understand such a love for God. He is too far off."
+
+"He is not far off. His name is Emmanuel—God with us!"
+
+"I have no feeling towards the Supreme Being," said Charlotte, after
+a little pause, "except one of terror when I think how helpless we
+are—bond slaves in his hands."
+
+"If you loved and trusted him, you would find pleasure instead of
+terror in the idea that your destinies were in the hands of one who
+could do no injustice and no wrong. Then every thing you did would be
+sanctified by the thought that you were doing it for him, since he is
+served by every one of our duties, whatever it is. I know you always
+take pleasure in working for people. I never saw you so happy, as when
+you were straightening and going over those long accounts for your
+father, when I was at home before. If in addition, you had had in your
+mind the thought of pleasing your Father in heaven, you would have been
+still happier."
+
+"But, Olive, do you not think there is danger of losing one's reverence
+for the Supreme by thus mixing him up with all the common and daily
+concerns of life?"
+
+"If there is," replied Olive, "we are not answerable for it, since he
+himself says that not a sparrow falls to the ground without him, and
+that whether we eat or drink, or whatever we do, we must do all to the
+glory of God."
+
+"And does this feeling really comfort you, Olive, when you are in
+trouble? I have heard people talk about religious consolations, but I
+always took it all for cant."
+
+"Take care," said Olive, "that in dreading and avoiding cant, you
+do not fall into it yourself, and that of the worst kind—that of
+condemning as cant all that you do not understand. Yes, I have found,
+more than ever before, the great comfort of having such a trust and
+confidence in God, as I have described. But for that, I do not believe
+I could have lived through this last week. It is all that gives me any
+hope about Abby. She has been so well taught, and the child of so many
+prayers, that I can not but think she will come right at last."
+
+"I wish I felt so," said Charlotte sighing, "but I can not, and I do
+not know how to attain to it."
+
+"Prayer and repentance are the only ways I know," replied Olive. "The
+bitter comes before the sweet; and the godly sorrow that worketh
+repentance must precede the love of Christ which passeth knowledge.
+We must repent in sackcloth and ashes, before we can rejoice with joy
+unspeakable and full of glory. Do try, Charlotte—I know you will be so
+much happier, not only here but hereafter."
+
+"I will make no promises," said Charlotte, "but I will think of what
+you have said, and I am very much obliged to you for speaking so
+freely, and not being shocked at me. You do not know how miserable I
+was at the thought that I had been deceived in you after all. If you
+did, you would not wonder that I was so savage when you first came
+home."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TENTH.
+
+ALREADY half the time allotted to Olive's vacation had passed, and
+she was beginning to think with mingled pain and pleasure of a speedy
+return to Basswoods, and her duties there. She knew that she was sure
+of a very warm welcome, not only from Ruth and Augusta, but also from
+her pupils, who were almost all very much attached to her. She liked
+the place and the people; perhaps too, she enjoyed the idea of being a
+person of a good deal of consequence; she liked the quiet and regular
+employment, and there was a great pleasure in witnessing the gradual
+improvement of the girls under her charge, not only in book-learning,
+but also in manners and in those minor morals which affect so much the
+comfort of our daily lives.
+
+Sadly as the matter had resulted, she felt as though a mountain's
+weight was removed from her mind in getting rid of her secret, and she
+could not help whispering to herself that the marriage might after all
+turn out better than they feared—that William might settle down, now
+that he had the responsibility of a wife upon his hands, and become an
+industrious man, after all. She intuitively felt that this consolation
+would not bear much examination, but it comforted her for the time.
+
+She had rather reluctantly given up her plan of stopping in M. to make
+Abby a visit, at Mr. Merton's urgent advice.
+
+"You had better defer your visit, at least till your return, Olive," he
+said, when she mentioned her desire to him. "Abby will be in no state
+to bear reason just now. She has not had time to find out her mistake
+yet. Moreover, I do not believe you will be very welcome—at least to
+Mr. Forester. He will not be likely to forgive your plain speaking to
+him and to Abby, and especially your bringing him out in a downright
+falsehood. Abby is altogether under his influence, and sees through his
+eyes. I shall not forbid your going, but if you will be advised by one
+who has seen much more of the world than you have, you will defer your
+visit for the present."
+
+So Olive wrote to her sister to say she was not coming, and had the
+mortification to perceive by the tone of Abby's next letter that it was
+a great relief to her. For the first time, Mr. Merton asked to see the
+letter.
+
+"You see I was right," said he, briefly, as he handed it back to her,
+"but do not be grieved, my dear. The time will come when Abby will be
+glad enough to have you with her."
+
+
+Of Laura, Olive saw very little. Aunt Dimsden had never encouraged
+their intimacy to any great degree, and she now told Olive plainly
+that she filled Laura's head with notions very unfit for a girl in
+her circumstances. "Your romantic ideas of disinterestedness and
+independence sound very well, but let me tell you, you will find out
+their fallacy when it is too late."
+
+"When will that be, aunt?" asked Olive.
+
+"When you see Miss Dimsden at the head of society, mistress of a fine
+establishment, and surrounded with every luxury, while Miss McHenry is
+still a drudging school-mistress, and a faded old maid, or at best, the
+wife of some country parson, obliged to struggle the year round to make
+both ends meet, and darning her children's ragged stockings, while her
+sister is spending her hundreds a day."
+
+"I don't think I shall ever marry a minister," said Olive, "though I
+know some ministers' wives who are very happy people."
+
+"Well, a school-master, then—perhaps the other teacher in the academy."
+
+Olive gave way to incessant laughter at the idea of exchanging her
+maiden name for the style and title of Mrs. Simon Prendergrass. "I
+might do worse," she said, endeavoring to compose her risibles. "Mr.
+Prendergrass is a very nice man, and has quite a good little property,
+only he invests it all in books that nobody can read but himself."
+
+"You had better set your cap for him," was the elegant reply. "I don't
+believe you will ever do any better. But be that as it may, I will not
+have you filling Laura's head with romantic notions. I have brought her
+up, and I have the best right to her, and I will agree to give up,"
+("what" she did not state,) "if she does not turn out better than any
+of you. As for Charlotte, she is an impertinent little hussy. I only
+wish I had her. I'd bring down her spirits, I'll engage."
+
+True to her word, Mrs. Dimsden contrived to keep the sisters apart, and
+Olive hardly saw any thing of Laura, except in presence of others. Even
+when they were together, she could not help feeling very painfully how
+very little they had in common. Charlotte was much more of a companion
+for her, for though, as we have seen, almost entirely irreligious,
+she was not frivolous, and she utterly despised that dependence for
+happiness upon fashion and position in which poor Laura had been
+educated.
+
+Mrs. Merton was, perhaps, almost as worldly as Mrs. Dimsden, but
+it showed itself in a different way. Having been for many years at
+the head of society, in the place where she resided, and needing no
+struggle to maintain her position, she was quite too firm to care much
+about being fashionable. She gave parties when and how she pleased,
+and was always sure of as many people as she chose to invite. She was
+not at all afraid to dress as she liked, or to say that she could not
+afford this or that, nor was she ashamed of having her carriage seen
+standing in an unfashionable street, at the doors of unfashionable
+people. Regarded in a religious point of view, her worldliness was,
+perhaps, no better than that of her sister-in-law, but it must be
+admitted that it was less destructive to every thing like integrity and
+solidity of character.
+
+
+There was one subject of contemplation which was constantly presenting
+itself to Olive's mind, and from which she as constantly turned her
+thoughts, as far as she could, and that subject was Walter Landon.
+Would he come and see her? she wondered. Augusta had said nothing more
+about him, though she spoke of the Vander Heydens several times, and
+Ruth had never mentioned his name.
+
+"And why," she proceeded to ask herself with severity, "should she wish
+him to come? What was he to her, more than any other acquaintance in
+the world? Would not—ought not all his thoughts and affections to be
+buried in Annette's grave?"
+
+Olive felt a loss of self-respect every time she suffered her mind to
+dwell upon these topics, and invariably told herself that Mr. Landon
+was nothing to her, and that it was very wrong and foolish to think
+of him at all. But, though all this was undoubtedly true, it did not
+prevent her from reading Augusta's first letter several times over, nor
+hinder her heart from beating faster every time the door-bell rang, and
+sinking sadly when the person who was nothing to her did not make his
+appearance.
+
+One night, during the last week of her vacation, there was a ring at
+the door, and a strange voice was heard, inquiring whether Mrs. Merton
+lived there, and secondly whether she was at home.
+
+"I wonder who that is?" said Charlotte.
+
+Olive did not answer, though she had recognized the first tone of his
+voice. Her heart was beating inconceivably fast just then.
+
+A tall, gentlemanly personage entered the room, with a bow which even
+Laura might have approved.
+
+"Mr. Landon," announced Edward, the Black Prince, approvingly; for
+Edward was an excellent judge of a gentleman.
+
+Mr. Landon was greeted with perfect composure, and a proper degree of
+warmth by Miss McHenry, and then presented to her uncle and aunt. Mr.
+Merton remembered having seen the young lawyer in court, and was quite
+prepared to like him, and Mrs. Merton was evidently pleased by his
+manners and address.
+
+Olive was provoked at herself for feeling anxious about the impression
+he was likely to make, and asked herself again, severely, what he was
+to her.
+
+He was very glad to see her that was certain, and replied with
+warmth to her inquiries about Basswoods and its people. The sickness
+had almost disappeared, the society had resumed its meetings, Mr.
+Prendergrass was well, but melancholy and lonely—with a mischievous
+glance at Olive, who blushed, of course, to the roots of her hair,
+thereby provoking Charlotte to make various inquiries about that
+gentleman.
+
+Olive could not help thinking Mr. Landon was in remarkably good spirits
+for a young gentleman who had so lately passed through such a severe
+affliction.
+
+She had refrained from making any inquiries about the family on the
+hill for fear of wounding his feelings, but it seemed really quite
+unnecessary.
+
+"You have not inquired for the Vander Heydens," said Mr. Landon,
+himself, turning from Charlotte to Olive.
+
+"Augusta wrote that Jenny was out of danger," replied Olive, more
+and more surprised, and somewhat hurt; for the idea of doubting Dr.
+Gordon's intelligence never entered her mind.
+
+"Yes, they are all well, now, but very sad. The joy and life of the
+household is gone."
+
+"Annette seemed an interesting girl," remarked Olive, hardly knowing
+what to say.
+
+"You did not know her, Olive—Miss McHenry," he said, correcting
+himself. "Annette never did herself justice with strangers, and the
+absurd family pride with which her mother's head is filled, though she
+had less of it than the rest, often made her appear at a disadvantage.
+She had many excellent qualities, more than she herself was aware of. I
+think she would have made a splendid woman."
+
+Olive wondered more and more. Was it possible that Walter could speak
+so of a woman to whom he had been engaged, dead only two weeks?
+
+"You were more intimate with them than most people in the village," she
+said, without exactly knowing why.
+
+"We were cousins, you know, and Louise has always been with them a
+great deal since my mother died. I believe the good people of Basswoods
+were so kind as to give us to each other, at one time, but they were
+quite mistaken. We were more like brother and sister than cousins."
+
+"I was told that you were engaged," said Olive, feeling that she must
+say something. "Dr. Gordon thought so."
+
+"Dr. Gordon was mistaken," replied the gentleman, with more warmth than
+seemed exactly necessary. "I was very much attached to Annette, but I
+should think that any one who knew us well might have seen that we were
+not at all suited to each other."
+
+Why did her mother look so amused? Charlotte wondered.
+
+She certainly did look amused, and perhaps Mr. Landon saw it; for
+he colored, and rather hastily turned the conversation by asking
+Mr. Merton some questions about the courts in M. Henceforth the
+conversation ran upon law and lawyers. Mr. Merton was enthusiastic in
+his profession, and of course was delighted to find Mr. Landon the same.
+
+Mrs. Merton and Olive sat by, apparently much interested, though it
+is doubtful whether either of them could have repeated a word of the
+conversation five minutes after it ceased.
+
+By and by, music was proposed. Olive played, whether well or ill she
+could not have told, and then she and Charlotte sang a duet together.
+
+"Do you sing, Mr. Landon?" asked Charlotte.
+
+"Sometimes, in church and Sunday-school," said Mr. Landon, smiling;
+"and I know a few old ballads." And being farther pressed, he sang
+without accompaniment, one of Burns's inimitable songs.
+
+"That is charming. That is the sort of music that I like," said Mrs.
+Merton, quite enthusiastically, for her. "I confess I do not find half
+the pleasure in modern music that I do in those old songs. Pray sing
+something else if you are not tired."
+
+Mr. Landon was not tired, and he sang "Molly Bawn," much to the
+amusement of Mr. Merton, who had never heard it before.
+
+"I wonder you do not cultivate your musical talents," observed
+Charlotte; "there are so few gentlemen that sing."
+
+"I did at one time, Miss Merton, but to tell you the truth, I found it
+too engrossing. It was present to my mind a great many times when I
+knew very well that I ought to be occupied with something else. It took
+time from more important studies, and so I dropped it."
+
+"And very rightly, too," said Mr. Merton, approvingly. "Accomplishments
+are often very dangerous things to one who has his own way to make
+in the world. They may do for a man who has no business but to amuse
+himself."
+
+"A man who has nothing to do but to amuse himself is a very poor
+creature, in my estimation," said Mr. Landon.
+
+"And a nuisance to society, besides," observed Charlotte. "There is our
+old acquaintance, Major Trumbull, for instance, Olive. What a bore he
+is, with his everlasting prattle about art and architecture, and the
+æsthetic, and so on. And after all, he does not know a good picture
+from a bad one, unless he hears some one else give opinion beforehand."
+
+Mr. Landon discovered that it was growing very late, and took his
+leave, after accepting an invitation from Mrs. Merton to dine with them
+the next day, which was Sunday.
+
+"A very well-informed, unassuming, well-mannered young man," was Mr.
+Merton's verdict, after the visitor had departed, "and pretty sure to
+rise in his profession. We shall see him a distinguished lawyer, one of
+these days."
+
+"What connections has he in Basswoods?" asked Mrs. Merton, of Olive.
+
+"None nearer than the Vander Heydens, and one sister," was the reply.
+
+"What is she like?"
+
+"A very nice little girl—one of my best scholars. Her health is not
+strong, and I have to watch and see that she does not work too hard;
+for she is as fond of study as her brother."
+
+"How came Mr. Landon to know your Christian name?" was the next
+question.
+
+"From hearing it at the rectory, I presume," said Olive. "Mr. Gregory's
+family all call me Olive, and he is there a great deal."
+
+Mrs. Merton seemed satisfied, but she had one question more. "What do
+you suppose brought him to M., Olive?" she asked, with something of a
+smile.
+
+"I don't know; perhaps he had business," replied Olive, vexed at
+feeling the color rise in her cheeks.
+
+Perhaps he had—we all know that lawyers travel a great deal. But why
+should Olive blush at that? And why, after going up-stairs, should
+Olive sit for an hour, looking out of the window, when, even if it
+had not been very dark, there was nothing to be seen but Mr. Watson's
+highly respectable mansion over the way? Why, to be sure?
+
+
+When they went to church, the next morning, Mr. Landon was standing in
+the porch. Of course Mr. Merton invited him to sit with them, and of
+course he accepted. He was very attentive and devout, thereby winning
+still more of Mr. Merton's approbation. Olive thought she had never
+felt the beauty of the service so deeply. Mrs. Merton guessed, in her
+own mind, that her niece's thoughts might be wandering a little: but
+for once she was mistaken. Olive had left all earthly thoughts at the
+church-door, and her mind was filled with one absorbing desire—that
+she might be reconciled to the will of God, whatever that will might
+be. She had never felt so much at peace with herself since she first
+discovered that she loved Walter Landon.
+
+Charlotte, who for the most part went to church only to please her
+mother and had nothing to do but to use her eyes, thought she had never
+seen Olive look so nearly beautiful.
+
+Some one else in the church was using her eyes and that was Mrs.
+Dimsden who had discovered the genteel stranger with the Mertons the
+moment he entered. For the first time in her life, she thought well
+of the free-church system, as it enabled her to take a seat directly
+behind them, instead of the one she usually occupied. She did not take
+much by her motion, however, for Mr. Landon sat with his back to her,
+and never looked round once during the whole service.
+
+"I wonder who that is!" she said to Laura, as they were coming out of
+church. "I never saw him before."
+
+"Some country friend of Olive's, probably," answered Laura, carelessly,
+"or some office acquaintance of my uncle's. He looks like a young
+lawyer."
+
+Mrs. Dimsden was not satisfied. She thought the stranger had something
+distinguished in his appearance, and she was immediately anxious to
+find out all about him.
+
+"You had better go over and see Olive this afternoon," she said, after
+luncheon; "you know she is going in two or three days."
+
+"It will look just as though I want to see this person, whoever he is,"
+objected Laura.
+
+"Never mind that; I will be answerable for appearances, if you do as
+I bid you. You can stay to dinner, and come to church with them this
+evening."
+
+Laura was vexed, but there was nothing for it but to obey.
+
+"I did not come of my own accord, Olive," she said, as she went
+up-stairs with her sister to take off her bonnet. "Aunt Dimsden sent
+me, so you need not think I want to steal your beau from you."
+
+"I do wish you would not use that word," replied Olive, rather
+impatiently. "Why should you not come over here if you choose? There is
+nothing in it to need an apology."
+
+"I thought you would all think I came over to see who your visitor
+was," said Laura; "and, to tell the simple truth, I suppose that was
+what aunt sent me for. Don't tell me any thing about him, and then I
+shall have the pleasure of disappointing her."
+
+"Laura, Laura, how perverse you are! If she had not told you to find
+out, you would never have rested till you knew all there is to know."
+
+"Maybe so. Is he coming to dinner?"
+
+"I believe aunt invited him."
+
+"Then I suppose she will depart from her rule of giving the servants
+their Sunday. She would not ask a stranger to a cold dinner."
+
+"I do not believe she has made any difference," said Olive. "I know all
+the servants went to church this morning."
+
+So it proved. Mrs. Merton made no apology for the cold fowl and ham,
+except to say that it was one of her rules never to have unnecessary
+cooking done on Sunday.
+
+"So much for being above the fashion," thought Laura. "I wonder whether
+the Eatons would dare to do such a thing."
+
+The conversation was cheerful enough, though somewhat serious in its
+character. Mr. Landon was interested in hearing an account of the
+different charities of the city, in almost all of which Mr. and Mrs.
+Merton were more or less engaged. Free churches, homes for old people,
+parish schools and Sunday-schools, were discussed in all their bearings
+and relations. Laura thought it all very stupid, and Mr. Landon
+something between a Puseyite and a Methodist. He spoke of a certain Mr.
+Dennison, who was his particular friend. And after a little, it came
+out that he was a hatter, but no one seemed at all shocked. Aunt Merton
+was a good deal of a riddle to Laura: she was so very fashionable, and
+yet seemed to care so little about it.
+
+
+They went to church in the evening, and walked round by Mrs. Dimsden's
+to leave Laura, who complained of headache. That young lady had to
+undergo a severe cross-examination from her excellent aunt, but as she
+had sedulously avoided finding out any thing, she had very little to
+tell, except that she believed Mr. Landon was a young lawyer from the
+country, who did not seem to have any distinguished connections.
+
+"Your aunt is always inviting such persons. I do wonder she should.
+Even the clerks in the office are very often there, I am told."
+
+"Yes, indeed," said Laura; "aunt makes a point of asking some of them
+to tea almost every week, and I never saw her or Charlotte take more
+pains to entertain any one. I remember how aunt set down Morgan Spencer
+once, for putting on airs to one of them. The sweet youth was nearly
+frightened out of what little wit he has."
+
+"Well!" sighed Mrs. Dimsden. "I don't pretend to understand Rebecca
+Merton. She is beyond me. I knew her pride would have a fall, though,
+when she used to make such a display of Abby and Charlotte last winter,
+and if it does not have another, I shall miss my guess. If you will be
+a good girl, Laura, I will have you at the head of an establishment of
+your own long before Charlotte, with all her beauty and talent. Now go
+to bed, child, and put on your best looks to-morrow, for I think we
+shall have some company that you will like to see. And pray don't be
+perverse and romantic, my dear, for you know the only object I have is
+to see you settled in life."
+
+Laura was delighted to see her aunt again in good humor. She promised
+that she would eschew romance and perverseness, and went to bed,
+feeling quite happy.
+
+
+"Olive," said Mrs. Merton, "will you stay at home, and keep house this
+morning? Charlotte and I have shopping to do, and shall probably not be
+at home till luncheon-time?"
+
+Olive assented, of course. There was something a little peculiar in her
+aunt's manner, she thought, and she found herself speculating over it
+more than once in the course of the long letter that she was writing
+to Augusta and Ruth, which was to be sent by Mr. Landon. She had just
+finished it, when the Black Prince ushered Mr. Landon himself into the
+drawing-room with the information that Madam and Miss Charlotte were
+out, but Miss Olive was at home.
+
+Mr. Landon seemed to think that Miss Olive would answer every purpose,
+and the Prince retreated to his own dominions, apparently greatly
+amused with something in his own mind.
+
+Mr. Landon did not converse with his usual freedom and elegance. On the
+contrary, he seemed a good deal embarrassed. Indeed, after a while, he
+was quite at a loss, and did not speak a word for all of five minutes,
+during which time he cut, ripped, twisted, and otherwise destroyed
+almost half a yard of elaborate tape trimming, besides dulling the
+little scissors in a very distressing manner. Strange to say, Olive had
+not the presence of mind to stop the mischief or, perhaps she was too
+much engaged on that camellia flower, whereof the pattern seemed to
+have become very difficult all at once.
+
+"Olive!" said Walter at last.
+
+Well, perhaps it is not necessary to tell the rest. I suppose these
+things are managed very much alike, all the world over. Of course, Mr.
+Landon did not fall on his knees, or conduct himself in any such absurd
+manner, because he was ordinarily a very sensible, practical young
+man, and not quite a fool, even in love. We may conclude, from what we
+know of the gentleman, that he told his love in a very manly, earnest
+fashion, and that Olive answered in the same way. If he kissed her
+hand, and—and so on, why, that is nobody's business.
+
+Whether the Black Prince had his own thoughts about what was going on,
+I can not say; though, if he did not, why should he have made such a
+clatter in setting down the luncheon-tray outside the door, when there
+was no need to set it down at all, the said door being ajar? And why
+should he have indulged in a private and respectful giggle, when he
+went back for the pickled oysters?
+
+Mrs. Merton and Charlotte came in almost as soon as luncheon was ready,
+and Mrs. Merton was graciousness itself, both to Mr. Landon and to her
+niece. Mr. Landon had quite recovered his fluency, and never appeared
+to better advantage, while Olive was silent and abstracted, though she
+did not seem particularly miserable.
+
+By and by the gentleman took his leave, and Olive escaped to her own
+room. We will not follow her, for she needs solitude, wherein to
+collect her thoughts—to think what she has done and said—to wonder
+whether any one was ever so happy or so thankful before.
+
+It would be paying a poor compliment to Mrs. Merton's care and
+discernment to imagine that she did not understand the whole matter.
+She was a woman of great penetration, and very much accustomed to judge
+of character. And, moreover, she was very skillful in drawing people
+out, and making them display their true colors. She saw nothing to
+object to, but very much to approve in the young lawyer, though she
+believed he might be a little Quixotic in his ideas of duty. She was
+very much pleased that he had, in a manner, referred the matter to her,
+even before speaking to Olive. His character as a lawyer was high—very
+high for so young a man, and he had a respectable property, and no
+vulgar relations. She would, indeed, have preferred to have Olive
+settled nearer home, and she could not help pitying her for being, in
+all probability, condemned to spend her life in a country village—a
+fate which seemed to her very deplorable, though Olive professed to
+like it.
+
+Still, Olive was not a belle; she did not care very much for society
+and style, and all that, and she was not the kind of girl likely to
+make a brilliant match. On the whole, as she said to Charlotte, Olive
+had done quite as well as she expected—so different from that poor,
+foolish child, Abby, whom they all thought would have turned out so
+much better.
+
+Olive was quite happy, when she received the congratulatory kiss of
+her aunt and uncle, on coming down to dinner. Mr. Merton had seen and
+talked with Walter, and expressed himself quite satisfied with the
+young man's views. It was all talked over in the family council that
+evening. Olive had quite made up her mind to return to Basswoods, and
+fulfill her engagement there, and Mr. Merton supported her in this
+resolve, against the opposition of his wife and Charlotte. The term
+would be out in the middle of July, and she could then come home to
+stay till she left it for good. The only other stipulation which Olive
+made was that the engagement should be kept a secret.
+
+"But what will you do about Laura?" suggested Charlotte. "You must tell
+her."
+
+"Yes, I suppose so, and perhaps it will be best to tell aunt, too, but
+I dislike having such an affair the theme of conversation. And then, if
+any thing happens—"
+
+"I will manage that," said Mrs. Merton; "leave it to me, my dear." And
+to her, Olive was quite content to leave it.
+
+Finally, the matter was thus settled. Olive was to return to Basswoods
+and finish her term there, giving Mr. Jones timely notice of her
+intention to resign, and Mrs. Merton was to use her own discretion
+about keeping the matter a secret. Olive tried timidly to bring in a
+word in favor of Abby, but was stopped at once by her uncle.
+
+"Not a word about that, Olive! I have conceded much—more, perhaps, than
+I ought—in allowing you to visit her and correspond with her, and that
+is all you must ask. She shall never enter this house again, till she
+has, at least, expressed some sorrow for her misconduct, and a desire
+to be forgiven."
+
+Olive sighed, but she could only submit, in the hope that her uncle
+would relent, or her sister come to her senses some day.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER ELEVENTH.
+
+SCHOOL was to begin on Wednesday as usual, and Olive arrived in
+Basswoods on Monday evening at dusk. She found several people waiting
+to welcome her—Mr. Gregory and Augusta, Mr. Landon and Mr. Jones,
+and last not least, Mr. Prendergrass. As Olive shook hands with the
+last named gentleman, and received his half-formal, half-embarrassed
+greeting, her mind adverted for the first time to what Mrs. Dimsden had
+so elegantly said, about her setting her cap for the school-master, and
+she wondered whether there could be any possible danger of his making a
+mistake—of his fancying that she was giving him encouragement, but she
+dismissed it as too absurd to deserve consideration.
+
+Ruth was not at the station, but was waiting for her at the door of
+the old house which Olive was quite surprised to see looking as usual,
+forgetting that houses do not generally change very much in the course
+of four weeks. It seemed like home to be again in her comfortable,
+cheerful room, which was just as she left it, except that a beautiful
+bouquet stood in a little vase of biscuit-ware on the table.
+
+"Louisa Landon brought that over," said Ruth, seeing that Olive's eyes
+were fixed upon it, the moment she entered the room.
+
+"Did she?" asked Olive, taking it up, to examine it.
+
+"Why of course, you know she did," retorted Ruth shortly, but not
+unkindly. "What is the use of pretending you don't? Don't you think I
+have guessed all about it by this time?"
+
+"I am glad you have, I am sure," said Olive, laughing and blushing;
+"for it will save me the awkwardness of telling you, which I have been
+dreading all the way. Well, what do you think about it?"
+
+"Me! I don't know any thing about such things. I think Walter is a very
+nice young man, and you are a very nice young woman, and I dare say you
+will be as happy as most people. I hope so, I am sure."
+
+Olive glanced at Ruth in surprise, and saw that she seemed a good deal
+agitated, though she was stooping over Olive's trunk, as if to hide her
+face from observation. The expression passed away as she looked, and
+she was as calm as ever. Olive remembered the same look once before,
+when Ruth had spoken of Augusta's brother, and she had wondered at the
+time, but now something in her own feelings gave her a clue to her
+friend's.
+
+"Don't think I am cross, Olive," said Ruth presently. "Sometimes I
+remember things I would rather forget, and it upsets me for a moment.
+Cool as you think me, I was not always so. Augusta can tell you—she is
+the only one who knows. I never speak or think of it, if I can help it.
+I wish you every happiness, my dear, and I think your prospects are as
+fair as any one's. I have known Walter from a child. Don't talk to me
+now—I shall get quiet presently."
+
+And when Olive met her a few minutes afterwards, she was as composed
+and cheerful as usual, nor did she ever again advert to the subject.
+
+From Augusta she afterwards learned part of the story. Frederick
+Gregory was a young man of promising talents, and, as every one
+thought, of good principles, but he went to college, so often only
+another name for going to destruction. He was treated with a great deal
+of attention, and often invited out, and at last fell into the hands of
+one of those gangs of fashionable rascals, some of whom are to be found
+in almost every city, who think it an excellent joke to draw in a young
+man, first to drink, then to gamble, and so on, to utter ruin, and when
+it is accomplished, hold up their hands in astonishment that any one
+could be so weak.
+
+Into such a set did Frederick Gregory fall. Mr. T's game-suppers and
+little dinner-parties (for men only) were very pleasant, and his vanity
+was flattered in being distinguished by such a fashionable man, albeit
+he did not think Mr. T. as elegant as his father, or old Judge Landon
+of Basswoods. One thing led to an other—"champaigne" to brandy-punch,
+punch to clear brandy: which led to betting on the players, and that to
+playing on his own account. Why pursue the story?
+
+Frederick Gregory was expelled from the college for gross misconduct in
+his third year. He went home for a short time, but life in his father's
+house and under his mother's eye was unendurable to him. Fresh disgrace
+and exposure followed, and at last he went to sea, and was never heard
+of again.
+
+Frederick and Ruth had been lovers almost from childhood, and though
+their parents refused to recognize any engagement till Frederick should
+have finished his college career, they considered themselves none the
+less bound to each other. It was very long before Ruth could believe
+that Frederick was as degraded as people said, but she was at last
+convinced in a way not to be mistaken. The young man visited her one
+evening when he was too far gone in intoxication to know what he was
+about, and absolutely insulted her. Once convinced, her course was
+taken.
+
+The next morning she sent him a letter, breaking off the engagement,
+and refusing to see him again, till he could give proof of his
+reformation. He made no attempt to overcome her resolution, for he
+had for some time felt his engagement to be only a restraint and an
+annoyance. Before leaving Basswoods, he sent her a seal-ring which she
+had given him before he went to college, with a note, thanking her for
+having taken the first step towards a separation, and bidding her an
+eternal farewell.
+
+What Ruth felt on this occasion, nobody knew, unless it were Augusta.
+She kept about her duties as usual, for two or three months. Then she
+had a long and tedious fit of sickness, from which she rose up, cured
+in body and mind. After a long storm, she had found a calm; she had
+conquered in deadly strife, and was henceforth at peace with herself
+and the world. She was sometimes haunted, as all of us are upon dark
+days, with the ghosts of the enemies she had slain, but they were only
+ghosts, and fled at daylight.
+
+She lived for duty, and with the duties came many pleasures, but
+her home was not here, "and all her heart was fixed above." Love
+and marriage were things utterly out of the question with her, and
+though she might have been comfortably established more than once,
+she dismissed all her suitors with an indifference nowise flattering
+to them, and very provoking to her mother, who could not see why Ruth
+should be so foolish as to refuse such an excellent man as Mr. Brown,
+the largest merchant in the place. She might have annoyed her daughter
+not a little, had not Mr. Felton, for the first and last time in his
+life, asserted his individuality, and forbidden her to say another word
+on the subject, declaring that in this and all other matters, Ruth
+should do just as she chose, a proceeding which besides silencing his
+wife, amazed her to such a degree that she actually forgot to be lone
+and low for as much as three days afterwards.
+
+
+Olive was warmly welcomed by all her pupils, most of whom declared that
+they were tired of vacation, and quite ready to begin school again.
+The drawing-class had each a picture or two to show her, the results
+of her holiday labors, and they were all delighted to find that they
+could draw at home as well as in school. Miss Tucker was gone, her aunt
+having concluded to send her to a seminary at a distance, where her
+talents would be appreciated, and her feelings respected; such at least
+was the reason she gave Olive, with an emphasis intended to be very
+cutting, and Olive accepted it politely, glad to be rid of her on any
+terms.
+
+The school was smaller than it had been in the winter, as many of the
+country pupils had returned to their homes to assist in the summer
+labors of the dairy and the farm. Olive found some of her best pupils
+missing, but she felt herself in some degree compensated by being able
+to bestow more time and attention upon the rest. As she thought how
+much she might do for them in a few years, she could not help feeling a
+pang of regret at being obliged to leave them so soon. She had not yet
+said any thing to Mr. Jones about her intention, nor did she mean to do
+so, till about a month before the summer vacation, as that would afford
+abundance of time to procure another teacher.
+
+After she had been in Basswoods about two weeks, Olive received a
+letter from Helen Monteith, and one from Abby at the same time. Helen
+had been visiting Mrs. Granger, and had been to see Abby. She wrote to
+Olive that they were comfortably established in the principal hotel
+of the place, and that Abby liked it very much, but Mr. Forester was
+discontented and talked of going to housekeeping as soon as he could
+find a house.
+
+"I think Abby dreads it," she said, "but she talks cheerfully about it,
+and is quite sure she can learn. She seems rather subdued, and I think
+feels very much the separation from her family. She thinks her uncle
+and aunt are very hard-hearted to treat her with so much severity, and
+really, I do not think she has the least idea of having done wrong. A
+good many people have visited her, and some of Mr. Forester's relations
+have sent her very handsome presents. I think they cherish the hope
+that William may settle down and be steady now that he has a wife on
+his hands; and perhaps he will. He certainly seems very fond of her."
+
+Abby wrote in good spirits. She adverted to the housekeeping scheme,
+and said they had been house-hunting several times, but rents were
+high, and they had not found any thing desirable.
+
+It was evident that Abby was coming to the conclusion that it cost
+money to live, a fact of which she had never been in any degree
+sensible before. She spoke of the kindness of Mr. Forester's relations,
+and contrasted it with the sternness of her uncle and aunt Merton, by
+whom she evidently felt herself very much abused. She exulted greatly
+over Olive's engagement, and said she supposed her sister would now be
+willing to admit that she had not been so very much to blame. She was
+mistaken, however.
+
+The more deeply Olive loved, the more she wondered at Abby's course.
+The effect of her own attachment was to make her more and more anxious
+to do her duty in every respect, to correct her faults, and to render
+herself worthy of her lover, and her destiny as a wife and mother.
+Her conscience had never been so quick to feel the first approach
+of wrong, her thankfulness had never been so deep, or her desire of
+self-consecration so entire as since she had been engaged.
+
+She did not consider how different all this might have been, if Walter
+had not had the deepest sympathy in all her religious feelings; if he
+had not been her superior in religious experience; if he had regarded
+the whole matter with indifference, or at best with a careless respect
+as an institution very well suited to women and clergymen, and such
+narrow-minded people; if he had gently laughed at her scruples, and
+intimated that conscience was all very well, but there were instincts
+and feelings of our nature much higher, and better guides, etc., etc.,
+the cant of a certain fashionable school very much in favor with such
+gentlemen as Mr. Forester.
+
+Contrary to the well-known prediction, the course of Olive's true love
+seemed likely to run very smooth indeed. Walter's business was very
+prosperous, he had no debts, and he had sufficiently demonstrated the
+fact of his being able to make a living. Olive's little property was in
+an excellent shape, and she thought the proceeds of her year's labor
+would go far toward fitting her out comfortably and respectably.
+
+There seemed no reason why the young people should wait longer than
+the first of October. Aunt Merton and her prime minister, Mammy, had
+already begun to calculate how much sheeting, toweling, etc., etc.,
+would be wanted, when an event happened which changed the face of
+affairs very considerably.
+
+Olive had been in school about eight weeks, when one Sunday, on taking
+her seat in church, she found the desk occupied by a stranger, and she
+was not long in recognizing the peculiar features and bearing of the
+Rev. Dr. V., a gentleman well-known for his talents, both as a speaker
+and a writer. She had heard him once before, and prepared herself for a
+treat. She was not disappointed.
+
+The Doctor's subject was the lack of young men for the ministry, and
+most splendidly was it handled. There was enough of originality to
+keep the attention awake, without any of that straining after effect
+so painful and disgusting in some popular preachers. Every one in the
+congregation was made to feel that the subject was an important one,
+and one in which he or she had a share of responsibility. Chancing for
+a moment to look away from the preacher, Olive met Walter's eye, filled
+with an expression that thrilled to her very heart. She knew what he
+was thinking of as well as though he had spoken.
+
+"How do you like Dr. V.'s sermon?" he asked as they met after
+Sunday-school in the porch.
+
+"Very much," replied Olive, hardly knowing what she said; "it was a
+powerful appeal, certainly."
+
+They walked a little way in silence, and then Olive said earnestly:
+"Walter, tell me what you are thinking of."
+
+"I am thinking, Olive, whether this is not an appeal to me. Young men
+are wanted, and I am young and strong. Who is there that can go better
+than I?"
+
+"It would be a great sacrifice," said Olive presently.
+
+"Yes, a sacrifice to both of us—to me of wealth, fame, and almost all
+the earthly objects I had set my heart upon; not to mention the fact,
+that our marriage must be put off at least a year, and possibly longer.
+Yes, it will be a sacrifice."
+
+"Perhaps we ought not to take that so much into the account, as the
+simple matter of what our duty is," said Olive gently. "Nothing, no
+sacrifice can be so painful to me, Walter, as the idea of being a clog
+upon you. I could bear any thing better than that."
+
+"I am sure you never will be so, Olive," replied Waiter, earnestly.
+"You have done me far too much good already for me to imagine such a
+thing possible. But we will not be hasty. I will revolve the matter in
+my own mind, and do you do the same. Perhaps I ought not to mention it
+yet, but I can not bear to have a thought that you do not share."
+
+The girls thought they had never seen Miss McHenry so absent as she was
+in school, next day. She became aware of it herself after a little, and
+exerted herself to be attentive to her duties, but it was hard work,
+and she was glad when school was out.
+
+A long solitary walk helped to compose her thoughts, but she still felt
+almost as though she were dreaming.
+
+"Olive looks tired to-night," Mrs. Felton remarked in her general way,
+addressing no one in particular.
+
+"I have taken a long walk," said Olive, trying to rouse herself from
+her abstraction. "I have been up past the old red house on the banks of
+the river."
+
+"Do tell!" exclaimed Mrs. Felton. "That lonesome road, and so far too!
+But you didn't go alone?"
+
+"Yes, why not."
+
+"Well, I declare! I wouldn't have done it for any money when I was your
+age, and I don't know that I would now. Why, the old Vander Heyden
+vault is on that road!"
+
+"Well!"
+
+"And the graves of the family that was murdered by the Indians, in the
+old red house!"
+
+"I never heard that," said Olive, with some interest; "what was it?"
+
+Mrs. Felton loved nothing better than to tell a story, and moreover,
+she had some talent for narration.
+
+"A family of the name of Munn formerly lived in that house," she began.
+"They were not much respected, and the man used to come up to the
+village and get drunk, leaving his family alone for two or three days
+at a time. Basswoods was a little place then, and this house was more
+lonely then, than it is now. His wife was rather a violent-tempered
+woman, but she worked hard, and was in a manner fond of her children.
+One afternoon in sleighing-time, Munn started for the village, and as
+usual his wife scolded him for it.
+
+"A neighbor (that is, he lived three or four miles off) was passing,
+and heard them using very high words, and he said to Munn, half in
+joke, 'You had better not leave your family alone to-night, Jacob;
+there is talk of Indians up the river.'
+
+"And so there was, though nobody thought much of it.
+
+"'Indians!' said the brute, with an oath. 'I only wish they would come
+and carry off this one!' pointing to his wife.
+
+"The man said no more, but went on his way, and Munn came up to the
+village. He did not go home till towards dark the next day, and the
+first thing he saw was his own baby lying with its brains dashed out in
+the snow by the gate. The woman and the other two were lying scalped
+and dead inside the door, and the house was robbed. It was the only one
+in the valley which was attacked, which made it the more singular.
+
+"Most likely," said Mr. Felton, "the mischief was done by a small party
+of Indians who knew Munn's habits. They had their spies all through
+the country at that time. I can remember seeing him round the village
+when I was a boy—a miserable, crazy creature, always talking to himself
+about the Indians."
+
+"But why should I not walk there?" persisted Olive. "The Indians are
+all dead long ago."
+
+Mrs. Felton had no very satisfactory reason to give, only that the
+place had a bad name, and no one would live there. Strange things had
+happened in the house.
+
+"But what things?"
+
+Well, she could not exactly say, only that queer things had been seen
+there at might, and people did not like to pass it. Some thought it was
+not altogether the Indians.
+
+"And if I were you, Olive, I would not walk that way towards night. It
+is as well to be on the safe side, you know."
+
+This reminiscence produced others, and Olive was surprised to find how
+many such traditions attached to the place. In one house there had
+been a murder committed. From another, a young girl had mysteriously
+disappeared one evening, and never was heard of again. In another, the
+watchers by a dead body had been alarmed by footsteps in the room, and
+sobs and sighs sounded near them, though nothing was to be seen. Olive
+had never heard so many ghost stories in her life. They had, at least,
+the good effect of arousing her attention, and turning her thoughts
+for a time away from the subject was engrossing them, perhaps more
+effectually than any thing more sensible would have done.
+
+The next day found her much more composed. She had made up her mind
+entirely to the sacrifice, feeling her own share to be nothing to
+Walter's; and, girl-like, she even began already to find some pleasure
+in the prospect of the quiet parsonage and useful life, which lay
+beyond that long separation which she would not look at. She was
+detained an hour after school by an extra class, and then went round to
+the parsonage to tea.
+
+"Where is your father?" she asked, after a while. "He did not come
+round to hear my class in Latin, as he promised."
+
+"He has been closeted with Walter almost all the afternoon," replied
+Augusta; "I can not think what they are so earnestly engaged about.
+Walter looked as though he had the weight of nations upon his shoulders
+when he came in. And you, too, look anxious, Olive! I hope there is
+nothing wrong."
+
+"Oh! No!" replied Olive, earnestly. "Nothing wrong. Something very
+right, I hope, but something which will make a great difference in our
+plans, if we decide upon it."
+
+Augusta looked at her inquiringly, and they were silent for a while.
+
+"After all, Olive, putting aside gratified ambition, which is
+perhaps but a questionable good, there are few happier lives than a
+clergyman's," said Augusta. She spoke rather to what she supposed were
+her friend's thoughts, and so Olive answered her.
+
+"People have a great deal to say of a clergyman's trials, you know."
+
+"I know, and doubtless some have more trouble than others. One can only
+speak from one's own experience and observation, of course. I have
+lived in a parsonage all my life long, you know, and I do not know that
+my father has been especially favored, except that he has remained a
+long time in the same place. We have had some hard times, and some sad
+times. There have been troubles, and now and then hard feeling and
+discontent in the parish. Once my father had no salary for three years,
+and we were poor enough. But the people have always come round after a
+while, and we have been as comfortable as ever. I am sure my father has
+enjoyed pleasures which more than counterbalanced his trials, and just
+think how it will be in the next world, when he shall come to know the
+full fruition of his labors!"
+
+"But it must be hard, Augusta, for a man like your father to labor
+Sunday after Sunday, month after month, without seeing any fruit of his
+toils."
+
+"Yes," replied Augusta, "and a minister undoubtedly needs faith, more
+than almost any one else in the word. But then, what state of life is
+there, which has not its trials? I remember well how my husband used to
+come home at night, especially in court-time, so worn out and disgusted
+with the meanness and villainy with which he was obliged to come in
+contact, the double-distilled lies and inveterate malice with which
+he was obliged to come in contact, even among his own clients. I have
+asked him sometimes, why he did not abandon his profession, and take
+up some other line of business, and his answer always was that there
+was no profession in the world which had not its drawbacks and its
+annoyances; and that, in laying down one burden, of which he knew the
+weight, he might take up another still heavier."
+
+"Walter loves his profession," said Olive, sighing. "I do not think any
+thing but a certain sense of duty would make him dream of resigning it."
+
+"I hope he will not be hasty."
+
+"He is not apt to be hasty, I think," observed Olive. "Do you know,
+Augusta, that when I went away from here, I thought he was engaged to
+Annette Vander Heyden."
+
+"I thought you did," said Augusta, smiling; "I knew very well he was
+not."
+
+"Why did you not—?" Olive stopped, suddenly coloring as deeply as the
+crimson cushion she was working.
+
+"Why did I not tell you? Because I thought it better both for your
+dignity and his, to let him tell his own story. I felt pretty sure that
+he would do so, and if he did not, the least said was soonest mended."
+
+"I assure you, Augusta, I never was more astonished than I was when
+I discovered that I cared any thing about him." Olive made this
+declaration with great seriousness, and looked rather indignantly at
+Augusta for receiving it with a hearty laugh.
+
+"Well, my dear child, what of that? You do not suppose that people in
+general go and fall in love of malice prepense, do you? To be sure,
+I have known cases where men, and women, too, set themselves about
+getting married as they would take steps to buy a cow or a horse, but
+I never heard of any one's making a deliberate calculation to fall in
+love."
+
+"I do not know that I ever thought of it in that way," said Olive,
+joining in the laugh, "but I do assure you I was surprised."
+
+"And you thought nobody was ever so unhappy before, I dare say."
+
+Olive nodded.
+
+"Whereas, your experience was that of at least eighty out of every
+hundred sensible and reasonable people, who marry at all, and perhaps
+as large a proportion who never do. But here are my father and Walter,
+coming back from the orchard. Walter looks as though his heart was
+lighter, does he not?"
+
+He did, indeed, and, as Olive observed him, she thought he must have
+made up his mind to something certain. He looked pleased at meeting
+her, and his cheerful greeting and warm hand-pressure made her heart
+feel ten pounds lighter. The subject was not adverted to during the
+evening, but when they were walking homeward, Walter told her that he
+had been discussing the matter the whole afternoon with Mr. Gregory,
+and that he felt his mind quite made up to the step.
+
+"Mr. Gregory advises me to let the matter rest for a month," said he.
+"And, of course, I shall do so, if only in deference to his opinion,
+trying meanwhile to gain all the light I can upon the matter. The
+only thing that really troubles me, Olive, is your sacrifice. I had
+enjoyed so much the prospect of our having a home of our own this fall,
+and having Louisa with us. I had built so many castles on it that—"
+Walter's voice faltered: he could not complete the sentence.
+
+"We will not think about that," said Olive, cheerfully, though she felt
+a moisture rise to her own eyes as she spoke. "Our engagement has been
+a very short one, and we shall be none the less happy in the end, for
+knowing each other better. I believe you have full faith in me, Walter;
+you have no doubt of my constancy—there, that will do! And I have not a
+shadow of distrust for you. We can afford to wait."
+
+"And what will you do meantime?" asked Walter.
+
+"Go on teaching here as long as they want me," replied Olive. "I am
+thankful that I am not dependent on any body for a house or a living.
+It is pleasant at Mrs. Felton's, and I like the school very much—more
+than I ever expected to do, when I begun. I do not think three or four
+years of such discipline will do me any harm."
+
+"You are determined to see only the bright side, my love."
+
+"I am, in this case, because the dark side is most prominent, and
+speaks for itself," replied Olive.
+
+"What will your uncle and aunt say?" asked Walter.
+
+"Frankly, I do not think they will be pleased. Uncle—I wish to speak
+with all respect—is proud of his profession, and considers every
+slight offered to it as an insult to himself. I believe, to speak
+the truth, that they will be likely to consider you a very visionary
+and enthusiastic person, in making such a sacrifice. My aunt has, of
+course, renounced the world and its vanities, but she thinks it no
+harm to give up the most of her time and energies to what she and
+others call the requirements of society. I hesitate to say this, lest
+I should seem lacking in respect and affection, but I know that the
+inconsistency used to strike me when I was quite a child."
+
+"But what does she make of such texts as—'Be not conformed to this
+world,' 'The friendship of the world is enmity towards God,' and others
+of like character?" asked Walter.
+
+"I suppose she thinks they applied only to the time when they were
+written, and have nothing to do with people nowadays."
+
+"Yes, that is a convenient way of dispensing with inconvenient
+precepts."
+
+"You must not understand me to say that she always does it, Walter, by
+any means. In many things, I think my aunt is guided by truly religious
+motives. For instance, she never invites company on Sunday, unless
+it is some person to whom it will be a real kindness. She is careful
+to see that the servants go to church regularly, and that they are
+provided with proper books, both of instruction and amusement; and she
+is very kind to the poor, and to all sorts of forlorn and friendless
+people. I think this is her one great inconsistency."
+
+"It is so with many excellent people, I know," said Walter; "and, after
+all, Olive, we all have our own pet failings. Perhaps this is no worse
+than many things in us, which we never think of as faults. But do not
+say any thing to them of the matter till it is settled, one way or
+other. As Mr. Gregory says, a distance of time makes a great difference
+in our feelings, and it is possible that I may see grounds for changing
+my mind. We will wait a month, and then decide."
+
+They waited a month accordingly. Walter now and then adverted to the
+subject, but he said very little. At the end of that time, he informed
+Olive that his mind was settled, if hers was. He intended to devote
+himself to the ministry, and to commence his preparatory studies at
+once. Olive had no objections to offer, and in a few days, all was
+settled.
+
+Walter would not have as much to do as many young men in the same
+circumstances, inasmuch as he was an excellent classical scholar
+already, and had read a good deal of Church-history, and of other
+matters which would come into the course.
+
+Of course there were a great many different opinions expressed in
+Basswoods when the matter came to be generally known. Some people
+thought it a very foolish, romantic move, for a young man already in
+good practice as a lawyer, to exchange a lucrative profession, which
+offered so many chances of rising in the world, for one which held out
+no promise, either of wealth or of gratified ambition. Others thought
+it was very hard upon poor Miss McHenry, as of course her marriage
+must now be put off indefinitely, if not broken off entirely. But when
+Miss McHenry appeared just as good spirits as ever, and upon the same
+terms with her lover, they had nothing more to say, except that it was
+a queer world, a proposition which, if you regard it in some lights,
+hardly admits of a denial.
+
+There were many who gave an unqualified approval, and wished that more
+young men would follow such a good example, and among them were Olive's
+fast friends, Mr. Jones and Dr. Gordon, the two acting members of the
+board of trustees, who were, moreover, much pleased at the idea of
+keeping their favorite teacher two or three years longer.
+
+When Olive announced the change of plans to her aunt, Walter wrote a
+long letter to Mr. Merton, in which he gave a full account of all the
+motives and reasons which had influenced him.
+
+Mr. Merton replied very soon. As a general thing, he said, he could not
+approve of a young man's changing his profession when he had once set
+out in life, and he really thought that, with Mr. Landon's talents, he
+might do as much good as a Christian layman, as in the character of a
+clergyman. Still, it could not be denied that there was a great want of
+young men for the ministry. He desired his young friend to do nothing
+hastily, but consider well what he was going to relinquish, and also
+what he was going to take upon himself before making any decided move,
+and enjoined it upon him not to enter the work of the ministry, unless
+it was his intention to devote to it all his energies of mind and body.
+On the whole, the letter was quite as satisfactory in its character as
+Olive expected.
+
+Aunt Rebecca's was not quite so much so. She evidently regarded the
+whole scheme as visionary and fanatical, and fully believed that
+Olive's apparently cheerful concurrence in it was only a freed and
+sorrowful acquiescence to the whims of her enthusiastic lover. She
+seemed indeed to place Walter's conduct upon a par with William
+Forester's relinquishment of the study of law, because he could not
+bring his mind down to such narrow limits. She concluded by expressing,
+in most affectionate terms, her sympathy in Olive's sad disappointment,
+and reminding her that she had always a home at her uncle's,
+independent of any one's caprice.
+
+The kind tone of the letter brought tears to Olive's eyes, even while
+she half-laughed and was half-vexed at the determination to think
+her a martyr, in spite of herself. Since she had had the charge of
+young people upon her own hands, she had learned to appreciate, more
+than she had ever done before, how much she owed to aunt Rebecca's
+kindness, and how many times she had tried it, sometimes unwittingly,
+sometimes through willfulness and selfishness. She wrote again, to
+assure her aunt that she was not suffering and to beg her not to be
+uneasy, as she was perfectly well, and about as happy as she could be,
+inclosing, at the same time, a little sketch of her own face, in order
+to demonstrate, clearly, that she was not pining away.
+
+The next letter was still more kindly expressed towards herself. Mrs.
+Merton had read Walter's letter to her husband, and admitted that
+his arguments were strong, but still she thought he might have been
+contented with doing all the good he could in his own profession. She
+sent him a very affectionate message, however, and Olive had no fear
+but that, in course of time, he would be fully taken into favor again.
+
+Charlotte's letter was concise and to the point, like almost every
+thing she said. "You know very well that I do not pretend to be
+governed by your motives, or even to understand them, always. But I
+must say I think you have done right. You have acted consistently
+with your own views and professions. If I believed as Walter does, I
+should act just as he has done. I am sorry, on some accounts, that your
+marriage is put off, but I think perhaps it will be as well in the end."
+
+Olive thought so, too, and she settled herself to her work with fresh
+patience and hopefulness, now that there was a chance of her seeing
+something of the fruit of her labors. People gradually ceased talking
+about it, and busied themselves with other matters, and by degrees
+Olive became as much accustomed to the thought of spending her life in
+a parsonage as though she had never had any other prospect before her.
+
+"Aunt Dimsden was right," she said to herself, sometimes; "I shall be a
+minister's wife, after all."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TWELFTH.
+
+THE summer term passed rapidly, unmarked by any particularly startling
+incident. The Basswoods people had become accustomed to the idea of
+Olive's engagement and Walter's change of profession, and troubled
+themselves very little more about the matter. The school prospered,
+and was larger than usual in summer, and Olive had her hands full of
+employment,—so full, indeed, that the trustees began seriously to talk
+of giving her an assistant the next term.
+
+Olive hoped it would not be necessary. She liked to have the management
+in her own hands, and feared that some one might be appointed who would
+not work with her, and might, perhaps, thwart her plans.
+
+She was the more solicitous on this point, as she knew very well that
+she had an enemy in the amiable Mrs. Tucker, who had never forgiven
+the summary setting down of the sensitive and conscientious Melissa,
+and who had never since hesitated to use all her influence against
+Olive, both secretly and openly. She talked of mercenary motives, and
+drew touching contrasts between people who taught only for money and
+those who taught for the love of it, though who these last were, she
+did not think it necessary to state. She intimated that Olive was fond
+of society, and went out a great deal, that her connections in M.
+were very fashionable people, that Miss McHenry paid a great deal of
+attention to the manners of her pupils, and even advised them about
+their dress, etc., etc.
+
+Olive heard very little of these speeches, and troubled herself not at
+all about them. She had early discovered Mrs. Tucker to be a meddling,
+vulgar woman, very fond of having her own way, and considering herself
+a model of solid education, though upon what she founded her claim it
+would be difficult to say, except it were upon the fact of her having
+no accomplishments.
+
+The school was full, the girls loved her, and the trustees were quite
+satisfied. Walter was every thing she had believed him to be, and now
+she had kind friends, and her own relatives, if they did not entirely
+approve of Walter's course, were at least satisfied with her. She was
+happier than she had ever been before in all her life, and she would
+have been quite happy, but for her constant feeling of anxiety about
+Abby—an anxiety to which she could attach no definite shape, but which
+haunted her continually, and made her heart beat fast at sight of a
+letter with the B. post-mark.
+
+After a longer interval than usual, she got a letter, saying that they
+were at housekeeping, and that Abby liked it very well, "so far." The
+next letter was not quite so cheerful. They had not a good girl, and
+Abby had so much to do that she got tired to death. She supposed it was
+all her own fault, in not knowing how, but thought if they could only
+get competent servants, they would do better. She was very anxious to
+have Olive stop and pay them a visit on her return to M., if not to
+spend the whole vacation with them, and Olive fully intended to do so.
+
+Olive, herself, was learning a good deal about work, from Ruth, who
+excelled in all that constituted a good housekeeper. Every Saturday she
+took a lesson in baking, and she felt more proud of her first fair,
+light loaf of bread, than she had ever been of a fine drawing.
+
+Aunt Merton, to whom she wrote an account of her exploits, commended
+her highly for taking pains to acquire a practical knowledge of
+such things—"a knowledge, my dear, which can never come amiss in
+any station. At the same time, I can not but hope, notwithstanding
+Mr. Landon's eccentric course, that you will never be placed in
+circumstances which will render it necessary for you to bake your own
+bread."
+
+It was plain that aunt Rebecca had not quite forgiven Walter yet, for
+what she considered his romantic folly. Yet Mrs. Merton regretted,
+extremely, the great want of young men for the ministry, and was in
+favor of having it made an especial object of prayer in the churches.
+She admired, too, the heroism of missionaries, and gave liberally to
+the cause.
+
+Olive was not at all disturbed by her aunt's letter. She appreciated
+the kindness, and only smiled at the inconsistency. She had learned
+away from home, what, when at home, she had never fully realized—that,
+taking them all in all, there were few better people in the world than
+her uncle and aunt Merton. And many times did she feel herself shamed
+and humiliated, as she looked back on her own conduct, and thought how
+illy she had often requited their kindness.
+
+
+The time sped on, and the summer term was near its close. Olive had
+made all her preparations for the long vacation, and Walter had wound
+up his business, except what had gone into the hands of his successor,
+and was giving his whole attention to some preparatory studies, under
+the direction of Mr. Gregory.
+
+At the earnest petition of a number of the girls who had hitherto
+considered themselves quite too old to go to Sunday-school, Olive had
+taken a Bible-class, in which she found, both pleasure and profit.
+Julia Goodrich stood at the head of this class, as she did at the head
+of the day-school, side by side with her fast friend, Anna Jones. She
+never missed a lesson, was apparently very much interested in the
+information she acquired, and was regular in her attendance; yet Olive
+could not flatter herself that she was making any decided impression
+upon her. When the subject of personal piety was pressed upon her
+attention, she treated it with respect, but frankly owned that she had
+no interest in it, on her own account. She seemed to have an idea that
+she should some time or other, be converted, without any special agency
+of her own, and that all would be right, as a matter of course.
+
+Olive was very much in doubt what to do with these girls during her
+absence. She had asked, as a personal favor to herself, that they would
+continue to meet, and they had promised to do so, but she could think
+of no one to whom to commit the charge of the class. Augusta and Ruth
+had their hands full, the one with the infant-school, the other with a
+class of large boys from the country which she had taught for several
+years.
+
+She was talking the matter over with Augusta one day, when Mrs. Vander
+Heyden came in. She was a pleasant woman, and rather remarkably
+well-informed, and Olive had more than once thought of her. But as Mrs.
+Vander Heyden had never had any thing to do with the school, she did
+not venture to propose it.
+
+In the course of conversation, however, it came out, incidentally, that
+Olive was looking for some one to supply her place during her absence.
+
+"If you will trust them to me, Miss McHenry," said Mrs. Vander Heyden,
+"I will do as well as I can by them. I have very little experience in
+teaching, but perhaps I can keep them together."
+
+"I could ask nothing better," replied Olive, equally surprised and
+pleased; "and I shall be very much obliged to you. I did not think of
+asking you, as you have never been in Sunday-school."
+
+Mrs. Vander Heyden sighed. "Perhaps I have been wrong in keeping
+so much aloof from such things," said she, "but we have had such a
+pleasant circle at home, and I found it so easy to occupy myself fully
+there that I shrank from any thing which should take me out. We are
+sadly broken up," she added, with a sigh.
+
+"Is Agnes going south?" asked Augusta.
+
+"Yes, we shall take her to her aunt, in Georgia. I hope the change and
+the journey will do her good, for she is still sadly delicate. Jenny
+will be very lonely without her, I fear."
+
+"Poor Mrs. Vander Heyden! How very sad she seems," said Olive, after
+the lady had gone. "I was very much surprised at her offer, were not
+you?"
+
+"Not so much as I should have been a year ago," replied Augusta. "The
+family have lived, hitherto, almost entirely within themselves, and I
+believe, felt themselves quite beyond the need of neighborly sympathy.
+But the death of poor Annette, and the long-continued illness of Agnes
+and Jenny, have taught them a good lesson. I do not know what would
+have become of them, if they had been done by as they have been in
+the habit of doing to others. It shows what a really noble nature the
+woman has, that she has learned the lesson, and is ready to repair and
+acknowledge her error."
+
+
+In the year which she had spent in school, Olive had learned to have
+not only a great respect, but also a really friendly regard for her
+partner in the institution. It is said that we are apt to like those
+whom we have benefited, and if so, it is no wonder that Olive liked Mr.
+Prendergrass. She had certainly, done him a great deal of good. She
+had coaxed him out of his seclusion, and persuaded him into society;
+she had made him laugh heartily, more than once. She knew, too, how to
+draw out his vast and miscellaneous stores of thought and information,
+so as to make him an entertaining companion. But it was not merely his
+learning that commanded admiration. He was so thoroughly good, his
+feelings were so elevated and dignified, his piety so earnest, every
+thing about him so sincere and true, that Olive had a hearty reverence
+for him, and looked up to him with an almost daughterly regard, at the
+same time that she could not help being sometimes amused and sometimes
+annoyed by his eccentricities, and she now and then laughed at him a
+little, when she was with Ruth or Augusta. In what light he regarded
+her, we shall soon see.
+
+One Wednesday evening Olive did not go to church, as usual. She was not
+very well, and had had a fatiguing day in school. She would not allow
+any one to stay at home with her, and they all went, leaving her to
+enjoy that not unpleasant degree of indisposition which may be defined
+as too unwell to work and not too unwell to enjoy a new book. In this
+peaceful state, she had established herself upon the sofa, and given
+herself up to the fascinations of the "Princess."
+
+It was not a very pleasant interruption to hear Mr. Prendergrass's
+voice, inquiring if Miss. McHenry was at home. But she put down her
+book, turned her feet off the sofa, and prepared to be gracious,
+wondering all the time what had kept him from church, when the
+clergyman himself was hardly more punctual than he.
+
+The fact was, that Mr. Prendergrass had, for a long time, been trying
+to work his courage up to the point necessary for making a declaration
+of love to Miss McHenry. He lived, in general, so entirely out of the
+world, and was habitually so abstracted, that the report of Olive's
+engagement to Walter had never reached him, or had fallen upon
+unheeding ears. For the first time in his life, he had fallen into the
+society of a pretty, cultivated girl. The teachers before Olive had
+made no more impression upon him than the desks, or other furniture
+of the school-room. In fact, he had looked upon women in general as
+necessary evils, to be endured and made the best of.
+
+Olive was entirely different. She had begun by a tacit but decided
+declaration of independence. She was clearly not afraid of him, though
+she treated him with respect. She often disagreed with him, and
+sometimes laughed at him. The consequence of all which was, that Mr.
+Prendergrass, before he knew what he was about, fell violently in love
+with Miss McHenry. It was a long time before he would acknowledge the
+fact to himself, and still longer before he could make up his mind to
+inform the object of his affections. But when he saw the Felton family
+going to church without her, and ascertained that she was at home,
+alone, he thought it would never do to allow so good an opportunity to
+pass by unimproved.
+
+Olive never knew, exactly, how he contrived to make her understand
+the matter. She was so utterly astonished, so shocked and grieved at
+having unwittingly led the good man into an error that for a moment she
+could not say a word. Mr. Prendergrass evidently took her silence for
+encouragement.
+
+"May I hope, Miss Olive," he said, in a trembling voice, and changing
+his first seat for one upon the sofa, at her side, "that you will
+listen to my humble suit with favor? I am aware of my unworthiness, and
+your exalted merit, but if the devotion of so humble an individual as
+myself can make you happy—"
+
+"Stop, pray stop, Mr. Prendergrass!" exclaimed Olive, finding her voice
+at last. "I am so very sorry. I am afraid I have been very much to
+blame." And girl-like, she burst into tears.
+
+Poor Mr. Prendergrass was inexpressibly shocked and alarmed.
+
+"Don't weep, pray don't, my dear Miss McHenry! What have I said to
+cause you a moment's grief?"
+
+"It is not what you have said," replied Olive, recovering her calmness,
+"but I fear I have been very much to blame. I looked up to you so much,
+Mr. Prendergrass—I felt you were so much above me, and so much older
+that I never thought of your caring any thing more for me than as a
+friend."
+
+Mr. Prendergrass felt his heart sink fathoms deep, but he did not mean
+to give it up quite yet. "Respect is an essential agreement in the
+marriage-covenant. Do you not think so, Miss McHenry?" he asked timidly.
+
+"Yes, sir, certainly, but something more than respect is necessary."
+
+"You refer to love, Miss McHenry! Is that entirely out of the question,
+madam? So far as I myself am concerned, I repeat that life itself is
+not dearer to me than my Olive."
+
+The dignity and earnestness with which the good man spoke, brought the
+tears again to Olive's eyes, but she forced them back, and determined
+to put an end to the scene at once.
+
+"You will see that it is quite impossible, Mr. Prendergrass, when I
+tell you that I have been engaged to Mr. Landon ever since my return.
+I regret, very much, that any thing in my conduct should have led to
+such a mistake on your part, and I fear I have been to blame in not
+foreseeing it. But, as I said, I have been in the habit of looking up
+to you so much that it never struck me as possible."
+
+Her tone, even more than the words, convinced Mr. Prendergrass that his
+visit was hopeless. He rose and walked up and down the room a few times.
+
+"Miss McHenry," he said at last, stopping before her, "why did you ever
+come here? I was happy before that. I lived in my duties and my books,
+contented in solitude. I felt the need of nothing. You drew me out of
+myself, and away from my studies. You, first of any woman in the world,
+commanded my respect. You made me perfectly happy for a time, happier
+than I ever knew any one could be, only to plunge me in utter misery.
+Why did you not leave me alone?"
+
+He walked once more the length of the room.
+
+"Now what am I to do? I can not go back to my old way of life, and
+be happy in it, after the year of enjoyment I have passed. I can not
+forget you, even if it were possible to myself, since I must meet you
+every day. I have given you every thing, and left myself poor indeed,
+only to contribute to your amusement, and be cast aside for a younger
+man, who, whatever may be his merits, never can love you better than
+the poor awkward school-master with whom you have diverted yourself,
+without a thought of the mischief you were doing."
+
+"Mr. Prendergrass, I can not permit this," said Olive, with dignity.
+"I make great allowances for your disappointment, but you do great
+injustice, both to me and to yourself, when you accuse me of trifling
+with you. I found you, as you say, shut up with your books, and I
+thought it a great pity. I tempted you from your seclusion, not to
+amuse myself with you—such a thought never entered my mind—but because
+I thought it would be much better for you, while your society would be
+pleasant to others. You have never given me the least reason to think
+that I was more to you than any other young lady in the village. I have
+no more to say, except that when you are more yourself, I am sure you
+will do me justice."
+
+Mr. Prendergrass stood a moment. "Forgive me, Miss McHenry. I have
+spoken improperly, and you are right, as you always are. Good-night."
+
+"We part friends, at least, I hope," said Olive, offering him her hand.
+
+He took it in a grasp which almost crushed it, pressed it to his lips,
+and pulling his hat over his eyes, he left the house, passing Mrs.
+Felton at the gate, without even a sign of salutation.
+
+"What on earth ails the man?" said Mrs. Felton to her daughter. "I
+should not wonder if he had got the neuralgia again. Why, where's
+Olive?" she continued, as she entered the sitting-room, and found it
+vacant. "I don't believe but that she is real sick. Hadn't you better
+go up and see?"
+
+Ruth went up, but did not go in. She had an inkling of the state of the
+case, and she thought Olive would prefer to be alone, so she contented
+herself with asking, at the door, if Olive wanted any thing, and then
+went to her own room.
+
+Olive would have given a good deal if she could have avoided meeting
+her rejected lover the next morning, but there was no help for it. And
+she determined to put the best face she could upon the encounter.
+
+Mr. Prendergrass rose and bade her good morning, as usual, when she
+entered the large room, following her train of girls.
+
+Glancing at him, after she was seated, she was shocked to see how he
+was altered. He looked ten years older, at least. His eyes were hollow,
+and there was an expression of forlorn wretchedness about him, which
+went to Olive's heart. His voice, however, was full and firm as ever in
+going through the morning prayers.
+
+When school was out, at noon, Mr. Prendergrass entered the library,
+where Olive was, searching for something in one of the book-cases.
+
+"Allow me a moment, Miss McHenry," he said, in his formal way, and
+closing the door. "I made myself very ridiculous last night," he
+continued, "and I fear gave you great pain."
+
+"On the contrary, you never commanded my respect more," said Olive
+warmly, "and the only pain I felt was for your disappointment, and the
+fear that I had lost your friendship."
+
+"You are very kind to say so." He paused a moment. "From henceforth let
+the whole matter be forgotten, so far as possible. I entirely acquit
+you of any wrong in the matter, and blame only my own folly and vanity."
+
+Olive would have interrupted him, but he waved his hand, and proceeded.
+"We will say no more about it, if you please. I believe Mr. Landon to
+be a worthy and excellent young man, and I greatly respect him for the
+course which I understand he has lately taken. I hope you may both
+be happy, and so long as I know 'you' are so, I can never be quite
+wretched. God bless you!"
+
+He bowed, and was gone, leaving Olive to wonder whether, if she had
+never seen Walter, she might not, in the course of time, have fallen in
+love with this honorable, noble, kind-hearted, formal, eccentric piece
+of humanity.
+
+School was out at last, and us the scholars assembled once more to
+receive their prizes and to bid good-by, Olive felt sadly at leaving
+them, even for the vacation. She had expected when she returned for
+the summer term, to give up her charge entirely at this time, and to
+return to Basswoods as Mrs. Landon. A great change had passed over her
+prospects. She was none the less happy, but it was a calm and subdued
+happiness. Those who saw only the outside pitied her disappointment,
+but she told Augusta that if she could, by turning her hand, reverse
+the whole matter, she would not do it.
+
+"I respect and love him more than ever, when I see him making such
+sacrifices to what we both feel to be paramount duty," said she, "and
+I never think of it but with a thankful heart that we are both of one
+mind."
+
+"Mr. Prendergrass is going to travel this vacation; only think of
+that!" said Ruth. "He has not been out of Basswoods before, except to
+York to buy books, for ten years. He says he is going to the White
+Mountains, and up the St. Lawrence, and so home by the way of Niagara.
+I only hope the poor man will not get lost."
+
+"Perhaps he will only get married," said Augusta. "You look quite
+indignant, Olive, but let me tell you, my dear, there is truth in the
+saying that 'many a heart is caught in the rebound.'"
+
+"I was not aware that I looked indignant," replied Olive, coloring. "It
+is nothing to me, of course, but it does not seem very probable."
+
+The girls smiled and turned the conversation, leaving Olive wondering
+why she should have felt a little vexed at the idea of Mr. Prendergrass
+being married.
+
+She had expected to go alone to B., but when the day came, she found
+Walter prepared to accompany her.
+
+"I can afford myself so much of a holiday," he said, in answer to her
+remonstrances, "and I do not choose to have you travel alone, if it can
+be helped. Besides, I want to see your sister and Forester. You know he
+was a classmate of mine. We used to be thought very much alike."
+
+Olive wondered where the resemblance could have been, as she contrasted
+the high-flown æsthetics and refined selfishness of her accomplished
+brother-in-law, with the hearty, manly energy, and determined
+self-sacrifice of her lover: the one pampering his mind and indulging
+his taste for idleness with all sorts of pretty and petty amusements
+which he dignified by the name of intellectual pursuits; the other
+devoting all his energies to the profession he had chosen, and only
+relinquishing it at the call of a still higher duty. She did not
+express her thoughts to her companion, but perhaps he guessed them, for
+he said presently:
+
+"You must not judge Forester too harshly. He has been a spoiled child
+all his life; petted, waited on, and admired by father and mother,
+brothers and sisters. He had talent, and they thought it genius,
+and accordingly humored him in all his pursuits, and gratified
+all his desires. After living upon his father till he was nearly
+five-and-twenty, it was naturally not easy for him to settle down to
+business at once. He was admired and courted in society, and that
+finished the spoiling."
+
+"All that need not have made him dishonorable and false," said Olive,
+"as he certainly was, so far as Abby was concerned."
+
+"Perhaps it need not, but I think you will find that idleness and
+self-indulgence are very apt to have that effect after a time. We will
+not despair of him, however, my dear Olive. The fact of his having
+a wife dependent upon him may force upon his mind the necessity of
+exerting himself."
+
+Olive tried to hope so, but it must be confessed she did not feel very
+sanguine. They arrived in B. in the afternoon, and after some little
+trouble, succeeded in finding the house—a small brick cottage in a
+retired street, and Walter left her at the door, promising to return in
+the evening.
+
+Her sister met her with open arms, and then followed the usual amount
+of tears, laughter, clapping of hands, and other demonstrations, common
+to all Abby's great occasions.
+
+"You are just as much of a child as ever, Abby," said Olive, when she
+was finally settled in the parlor.
+
+"Why, no, I think not quite," replied Abby, sobering down a little. "I
+have learned some things since I saw you. Only think, Olive, I have
+been a wife almost six months, and you are not married yet, nor likely
+to be very soon."
+
+"I am very well contented as I am," said Olive.
+
+"Yes, I dare say; you always are, you know. But how do you like our
+house? You see it is not in a fashionable neighborhood, and the house
+is not large nor splendid, but it is comfortable."
+
+"It looks so," said Olive, looking round. "I see you have a piano."
+
+"Yes, Mrs. Forester sent me that. Wasn't she kind? So different from—"
+
+"Hush! Abby," interposed Olive, "I will not hear one word against uncle
+or aunt Merton. They have been kinder to you than you deserve, and you
+know what I thought from the beginning. You have never, so far as I
+know, intimated a wish to be forgiven."
+
+"William says it is not my place to do so," said Abby. "He says they
+ought to make the first advances, and that uncle has insulted him.
+Not," she added hastily, "that I should do so, even if he would let me.
+But we had better not talk about that! Let me take you up to your room:
+you must be tired, and when William comes in, we will get your trunks
+up. I used to wonder how people kept house without a man, but I am
+finding out."
+
+Olive begged her sister not to trouble herself, and accompanied
+her up-stairs to the bedroom destined for her. It was small, but
+well-furnished, and tolerably neat, though showing signs of needing the
+dusting-brush.
+
+"The dust settles on every thing so," said Abby. "I can't think why it
+is. We did not use to see any dust at aunt Merton's. I hope you will
+not laugh at my housekeeping, Olive! I do my best, but I know very well
+things do not go on as they used to at home."
+
+"Aunt Merton has excellent servants, and plenty of them," said Olive,
+encouragingly, "and she has kept house a good many years, while you are
+only a beginner. You will soon learn."
+
+"I hope so," said Abby, "for I do hate to have things go wrong. Emma
+Forester was here the first fortnight, and you don't know how nice
+it was. She is not a bit like William—not at all a genius, though
+she is cultivated. William says she cares for nothing but sewing and
+Sunday-schools, but she is a real housekeeper, and I am sure Katy did
+better for her than she does for me."
+
+"Why did she not stay?" asked Olive.
+
+"Oh! Her mother and Emmeline wanted her, and she had to go home. But
+there comes William, and I must go down and have the trunks brought up."
+
+Olive heard, accordingly, an argument down in the hall, which ended in
+the trunks being dragged up-stairs by a stout, good-natured English
+girl.
+
+"I am afraid they are rather too heavy for you," said Olive kindly.
+
+"Oh! No, indeed. I'm very stout, you see, and Mrs. Forester is far too
+delicate to put her hand to such a thing."
+
+Olive wondered whether that were the only alternative but she dressed
+herself and went down-stairs.
+
+Mr. Forester, in dressing-gown and slippers, was stretched upon the
+sofa in the parlor, reading a newspaper. He rose, however, when she
+entered, and greeted her with his accustomed easy cordiality.
+
+"So you have come to see how far we have gone in the way of destruction
+you so kindly prophesied to us!" said he, after a few common-place
+inquiries.
+
+"I don't remember expressing any such prophecy," replied Olive.
+
+"Ah! Well, you thought so, and your pattern uncle thinks so still."
+
+"Perhaps we had better let that branch of the subject rest," said
+Olive. "We shall not be likely to agree any better than we did before,
+and I can not consent to hear my uncle spoken of, except with respect."
+
+"Very well," said Mr. Forester good-naturedly, "there are enough of
+other subjects to talk about. What has become of Landon, and why did he
+not come up with you?"
+
+"He is in town," replied Olive, "and will be here this evening. I
+learned this morning, for the first time, that you were class-mates."
+
+"Yes, surely. We never were very intimate, though. Landon was one of
+those plodding fellows, who give their whole energies to the daily
+routine of study, and are great favorites with faculty and tutors in
+consequence. He is just the man to make a lawyer or a minister."
+
+"Walter is very industrious," replied Olive. "I think sometimes he
+hardly allows himself as much recreation as he needs, but his health
+is good, and he always gives himself up entirely to every thing he
+undertakes."
+
+"Yet he has given up the study of law as well as William," remarked
+Abby, who had just come in.
+
+"No one can say that he has consulted his ease in so doing," replied
+Olive, smiling, "since the one he has chosen is much more laborious,
+besides being worse paid."
+
+"I can not conceive why he should have made the exchange," said
+William; "he always seemed to enjoy the idea of studying law."
+
+"He thought it was his duty to do so."
+
+"His duty! Yes, that sounds just like him," laughed Mr. Forester. "'My
+duty' always settled every thing for him. But, Abby, is not tea ready?
+I am sure it is past the time."
+
+"It is just ready," was the reply; "I came in to tell you so."
+
+"I don't remember hearing any thing about it. Abby is not much of a
+housekeeper, Miss McHenry. I wonder your good aunt did not give her
+lessons."
+
+"Girls of seventeen are not apt to be good housekeepers," was the reply
+that rose to Olive's lips, but she checked herself, and said simply:
+"Abby has been a great deal in school, and she has had very little
+experience. She will do very well, I dare say."
+
+"Oh! Yes, of course. Don't color so, little wife: you know you said as
+much yourself this morning."
+
+The tea was very nice and abundant, though plain. The biscuits
+especially were very nice, and Olive noticed them.
+
+"I made them myself," said Abby, her eyes sparkling with pleasure.
+"Emma taught me while she was here."
+
+"You were an apt scholar, certainly," replied her husband, helping
+himself to another. "But, my love, I should rather you would try your
+skill in teaching Katy, than in doing such things yourself. A good
+housekeeper directs, instead of doing—is head, and not hands."
+
+Abby looked mortified, and Olive felt indignant.
+
+"I am inclined to think, if you were to try it, you would sometimes
+find it necessary to be head and hands too," said she: "at least, I
+never saw a housekeeper who did not."
+
+Mr. Forester smiled and turned the conversation, but poor Abby's
+spirits had received a check. She evidently felt a good deal like a
+child who has taken a good deal of pains in preparing a present, and
+then hears it criticised by the person for whom it is intended. Mr.
+Forester seemed quite unconscious of having said any thing unkind, and
+continued to make himself very gracious to Olive, and to Mr. Landon
+when he appeared.
+
+"How do you like your new business?" asked Walter.
+
+"What do you mean, the nursery business? Oh! I gave that up, long ago.
+My partner, who was a stupid fellow, thought I ought to take half the
+labor of superintendence; and it did not suit me to be out in all
+weathers. Besides, I did not like his ideas. I wanted to make the
+grounds picturesque and pretty, but he had a notion that it was much
+more convenient to plant the trees in straight rows all of a sort, with
+a stake at the head of each. There was no beauty or grace in that!
+Then, it really seems a very heartless thing to sell for money, a tree
+or shrub which one has raised and nourished. So I gave it up, and lost
+some money by it. I am keeping books now, till something better comes
+along."
+
+"Play something, Abby," said Olive. "Have you learned any thing new?"
+
+"Not very lately; my hands have been too full."
+
+She played and sung better than ever, Olive thought, but Mr. Forester
+thought she did not give exactly the correct expression.
+
+"I really wish my ear was not so fastidious, Miss McHenry. It deprives
+me of any pleasure in ordinary music, and has prevented me from
+practising enough to make a good player myself."
+
+Once more Abby looked uncomfortable, and Olive felt indignant. She
+persuaded her sister to sing again and sang with her, Mr. Forester
+talking all the time to Mr. Landon of the comparative merits of Jenny
+Lind and Sontag. So the evening passed.
+
+Mr. Landon took his leave early, promising to call the next morning
+before he left town.
+
+And Olive retired, feeling more than ever anxious about Abby's future.
+She could see, now that she looked at her, that Abby was thinner than
+usual—that she had lost much of her animation, and looked careworn. She
+thought she saw in Mr. Forester the beginning of what she feared he
+would become, when the first novelty of getting a wife and having his
+own way about it was worn off—a selfish, exacting, careless husband,
+seeking his own ease, and troubling himself very little about the
+comfort of his wife. There were no signs of God being acknowledged
+in the family—no grace at table, no evening prayers, not even a
+family Bible in the parlor. She went to sleep at last, so full of sad
+forebodings for Abby that she almost forgot to be thankful for herself.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER THIRTEENTH.
+
+EVERY day that Olive spent in her sister's house, convinced her
+more and more that Abby, in her hasty and ill-advised marriage, had
+made shipwreck of her life's happiness, and roused her indignation
+more and more against her brother-in-law. She acquitted him of
+deliberate tyranny and unkindness, but she could not help seeing how
+systematically selfish he was—how he would let Abby go to market in
+the rain, rather than take the trouble to order the dinner himself on
+his way to his place of business. How he regularly took the best place
+in the room, the best light by the window, the new book or newspaper
+as soon as it came in. He would sit by the grate and let the fire
+go entirely out, while Abby and Olive were shopping, or busy in the
+kitchen, and he would never stir to make it up again unless he was
+particularly requested to do so.
+
+On Sunday evening he would not go with them to a church at some little
+distance where a clergyman was officiating that Abby particularly
+desired to hear, playfully excusing himself upon the ground of always
+being sleepy at evening service, and disliking the style of music. But
+the next day but one, he dragged them out to a picture-exhibition quite
+at the other end of the town, though the day was damp and unpleasant,
+and Abby had a bad cold. In short, he always considered himself first
+of any one.
+
+Olive could not guess whether Abby was at all aware of her husband's
+failings. Of course she could not say a word about them, even if it
+would have done any good. Several other things were very apparent. One
+was, that Abby was not strong. She got very tired with her household
+cares, few as they were in comparison with those of many people, and
+the unaccustomed responsibility weighed on her mind. She really too
+great pains to learn, and Olive assisted her as much as she could,
+but many times did she see the tears start to the poor child's eyes
+after she had taken great pains in the concoction of some dish for
+dinner or tea, to hear some careless criticism from her husband, or his
+often-repeated remark:
+
+"I do not want you to do such things, Abby. Leave them to Katy.
+How often must I tell you, my dear, that it is the part of a good
+housekeeper to direct and not to work herself? You are getting really
+quite coarse from working in the kitchen."
+
+Then Abby's color would rise, and she would be unable to eat a
+mouthful, while Mr. Forester would complacently enjoy the fruit of his
+wife's labors.
+
+"I do wish Abby were not so sensitive and touchy," he said to Olive one
+day.
+
+"We always thought she had a remarkably serene temper at home," replied
+Olive. "You should remember how young she is—only seventeen now, and
+the cares of life weigh heavily upon her."
+
+"I do not think she has so very much to do," said Mr. Forester, in a
+tone of injured innocence. "I take all I can upon myself; and I have
+often seen women with much larger families who got on much better than
+Abby does."
+
+"I do not think Abby is very well," remarked Olive. "She looks very
+pale oftentimes, and has not a particle of appetite in the morning."
+
+Mr. Forester seemed rather alarmed, and for some days was so attentive
+and considerate that Abby was quite happy, and Olive almost began to
+like him.
+
+But it did not last long; he soon became as careless as ever, and the
+cloud settled again upon his little wife's spirits. It was touching
+to see how she endeavored to deceive herself and Olive, how much she
+made of every kindness, how proud she was of his accomplishments, and
+how anxious to conceal his deficiencies. In all that related to her
+affections for her husband, she was a woman: in every thing else, she
+was a child.
+
+She confessed to Olive after a while that she was often very home-sick,
+and longed to see her uncle and aunt, and that she would have written
+to beg pardon long before "if William had thought it best; not of
+course that I would say I was sorry for having married him, you know,
+but sorry that they were displeased at it. I can not bear to think of
+their being angry," she said, her eyes overflowing. "I never could
+endure to have even one of the girls in school put out with me."
+
+"I do not think uncle would require you to say any thing more than that
+you were sorry for having displeased him, but he thinks you ought to
+make some acknowledgment of error, and indeed so do I."
+
+"Do they ever talk of me?"
+
+"Aunt does very often. She never writes without asking me whether I
+have heard from you, and how you are. I can tell you, Abby, there are
+not many orphan girls who have kinder friends than we have been blessed
+with."
+
+"Yet you were very anxious to make yourself independent of them."
+
+"In a pecuniary point of view—yes! I felt as if it were wrong to be
+dependent upon uncle for a living as long as I could support myself.
+But I have never made myself in any way independent of their authority,
+and have no wish to do so."
+
+"Well," replied Abby, "what is done can not be helped. Perhaps matters
+will take a turn before I see you again, if I ever do. Sometimes I
+think I never shall."
+
+"That is a foolish thought, my baby," said Olive, taking her sister's
+head upon her lap as she used to do in school, to soothe Abby's
+troubles; "why should you think so?"
+
+"I don't know; I am not very well, and—you know mother died that way."
+
+"But just think, Pussy, how many children are born every year, and
+people get well directly; and as for mother, I don't think she would
+have died but for the other troubles, father's death and the poverty
+and all. You must not encourage these gloomy fancies indeed, my love.
+It is worse than foolish, it is downright wrong. It is a want of faith
+in God."
+
+Abby sighed again deeply. "Dear Olive, I am very much to blame, I
+know, about that and many things. I can not go to church as I used to.
+William does not always want to attend, and I hate to go alone; and
+even if I do, it does not seem to do me much good. I wish I were a
+little girl again, as I was when I first went to uncle's to live, or
+else I wish I had not been so happy all my life."
+
+"But you must rouse yourself, Abby, my child," said Olive, cheerfully;
+"you have never known care before, and you are very young indeed to
+have the responsibility of a family upon your shoulders. But if you
+keep up good courage and do your best, the hardest parts will soon be
+past, and you will go on easier. Every one has some trouble at first."
+
+"If I could only ever do right."
+
+"I think you do wonders, both in cooking and housekeeping."
+
+"William thinks I might get along with directing Katy, and doing
+nothing myself," said Abby, "but I have tried and I can not. She is
+good-natured, and willing to do any thing she can, but she is not much
+of a cook, and she is careless unless I stand over her. I think she has
+learned good deal, though."
+
+"Oh! Yes, she has improved since I came. If you keep her a few months
+longer, she will turn out an excellent servant, I am sure."
+
+"But Olive, when I am sick will you come and be with me if you can? I
+think I shall die if I am left alone."
+
+"I promise you, baby. Keep up good courage, have faith in God, and I am
+sure all will go well."
+
+The vacation lasted six weeks, and Olive spent four with her sister.
+She would willingly have devoted to her the whole six, but Mrs. Merton
+would not hear of it. And she reluctantly took her leave.
+
+"Olive has promised to come to me next winter if I want her," said Abby
+to her husband after she had done crying.
+
+"Has she?" replied Mr. Forester absently, and working busily at a
+sketch of "the East Wind," that had occupied him and the only table in
+the room for several evenings. "But don't you think after all, my love,
+that it is pleasanter to be by ourselves? Olive is very nice, but she
+is a little severe, a little trying, with her extremely practical ways.
+But never mind," he added, seeing Abby's eyes ready to overflow again.
+"You shall have her if you want her, my dear, if she were ten times as
+practical. Only, I hope you do not mean to cry so every time she goes
+away, or I shall wish her somewhere else. I can't bear to see women
+cry, and you of all others. Come now, don't shed any more tears, but
+look at my head of the east wind, and tell me how you like it."
+
+Abby dried her eyes, looked at the picture, and was duly interested.
+She tried to keep from crying afterwards, and sustained her spirits
+wonderfully, considering how much she was alone.
+
+Mrs. Granger interested herself much in the poor child, as she called
+her, and went to see her as often as she could, giving her many useful
+hints about household management, etc., but she was of course much
+engaged.
+
+Abby had many lonely hours, when it was very hard not to dwell upon the
+dark side of the picture, when she could not help seeing that her idol
+was not a god—that even marriage with a man she loves is not enough to
+make a woman happy.
+
+But in these very lonely hours she found comfort after a while. The
+lessons she had learned ever so long ago at her mother's knee began
+to come back to her; many a passage learned in Sunday-school invested
+itself with a new meaning. The little Bible she had brought away with
+her came to lie in her work-basket, and chapters which used to be only
+tasks now became full of divinest comfort. The poor child crept timidly
+near, and laid her weary head on her Saviour's arm. Thus she grew
+happier by degrees, and wrote so much more cheerfully that Olive was
+quite encouraged about her.
+
+
+Olive's vacation at home was very pleasant. No one could be kinder
+than Mrs. Merton, though the sight of her niece seemed to renew her
+indignation at Mr. Landon's eccentricity, and Olive had to summon all
+her philosophy to meet the expression of it.
+
+Charlotte, for a wonder, supported Olive, against her mother, and
+declared that Mr. Landon was right and consistent, and that she
+respected him for the course he had taken, though she was sorry for
+Olive's disappointment about getting settled in a home of her own.
+
+Mrs. Merton was vexed, then laughed, called them a pair of romantic
+girls, and declared they would know better when they were older.
+
+"Of course you think every thing Walter does is just right, now. But
+wait till you have been married ten years."
+
+"Or till I have been married as long as aunt Rebecca," Olive ventured
+to say laughingly. "Now tell me honestly, aunt, don't you think uncle
+Merton is about as perfect as human nature allows any one to be?"
+
+"Oh!—Well, yes, perhaps so. But your uncle would never do any thing so
+romantic."
+
+"That depends upon what you call romantic. Some people would have
+thought it a very romantic proceeding to adopt two orphan girls, and
+give them an expensive education."
+
+"Yes, I know many people did say so, but I assure you, my dear, we
+have never regretted it—not even when poor Abby disappointed us so
+sadly. And now, Olive, tell me all about the poor child. I have had no
+opportunity to ask you. Does she seem comfortable? Is her husband kind
+to her?"
+
+"I do not think he means to be unkind, aunt. I believe he loves her as
+well as he can love any one but himself. But he is selfish in little
+things, and not very considerate, and I think Abby feels it."
+
+"Of course she must," said Mrs. Merton emphatically. "A constant
+display of small selfishness will do more to render a household
+uncomfortable than even very serious faults of temper. And how are they
+situated in a pecuniary point of view? Do they seem to have enough?"
+
+Olive thought they seemed comfortable for the present, but she had
+doubts for the future. "Mr. Forester has given up his nursery business,
+and says he has lost money by it."
+
+"Why did he do that?" asked Charlotte.
+
+"So far as I could find, his only reason was that he discovered it to
+be work instead of play. He said his partner cared for nothing but
+making money, and persisted in planting all the trees in straight
+lines. He is keeping books, now. But I don't believe he will persevere
+in it long. Abby tries very hard. It is really affecting to see the
+pains she takes to learn to cook and to sew. I am certain she never
+worked so hard at any school-lesson as she did to learn to make
+soda-biscuits."
+
+"Poor, dear child!" said Mrs. Merton. "Only to think of her little
+hands doing such things. And does her husband appreciate her efforts?"
+
+"I don't believe he does. He does not think there is any need of her
+working, herself, and I have heard him tell her, two or three times,
+that if she only knew how to direct, there would be no need of her
+putting her hand to any thing."
+
+"How absurd!" said Charlotte. "I wonder how my father would get on in
+his office, on that principle, or a merchant in his store?"
+
+"It troubles Abby very much, and discourages her, too," said Olive.
+
+"And how do you think Abby felt about us?" asked Mrs. Merton. "Do you
+think she ever feels as if she would like to see us again? I don't want
+you to betray confidence, my dear," she added, seeing Olive hesitate,
+"but I feel anxious to know."
+
+"I do not know that I shall betray any confidence in telling my own
+thoughts, aunt," said Olive. "I think Abby would very gladly ask to be
+forgiven, if Mr. Forester would let her. She would not say that she was
+sorry she married him, of course."
+
+"Certainly not," interrupted Mrs. Merton. "We should never ask that."
+
+"But I do think it makes her very unhappy to be so entirely separated
+from the family. She made me promise to be with her at the time of her
+confinement, if I could, but I shall not be surprised if Mr. Forester
+contrives to prevent it, for I know very well he does not like me. Abby
+is very low-spirited about it, and thinks she shall never get well. I
+am afraid she is sad enough, when she is alone, as of course she must
+be, a great deal of the time."
+
+"Poor child!" sighed Mrs. Merton again. "How I do wish I could send
+and have her here, at home! If she would only take one step toward a
+reconciliation, I am sure your uncle would forgive her at once."
+
+"I am sure he would, if he were to see her."
+
+"Well, my love, we will have patience; all will be brought round yet. I
+am sure I wish poor Abby well, with all my heart!" A fact which Olive
+did not in the least doubt.
+
+
+Laura seemed to be going on in much the same way as ever, but Olive
+did not see her. Mrs. Dimsden had taken her down to the sea-shore, and
+from there to Saratoga, where her dazzling beauty and sweet manners
+attracted much attention. Laura seemed to be in Paradise, to judge
+from her letters, which were very long, and so filled from end to end
+with descriptions of dances, parties, and every thing of that sort,
+that Olive hardly had patience to read them through. Now that Abby was
+in some degree separated from her, she felt more and more painfully
+the distance between herself and Laura. They did not seem to have one
+thought in common.
+
+Charlotte was much more of a companion to her, though they differed so
+widely upon many points. She was at least serious and thoughtful. She
+was not impatient of half an hour's grave conversation, and she had a
+thorough respect for goodness in others.
+
+Laura valued people by their dress, their station, their fine houses,
+and above all, by their degree of fashion. It was respectable to go to
+church, and besides, it was a good place to see and be seen, so she
+went regularly, and knelt gracefully at all proper places, but she did
+not like the preaching, especially Doctor Eastman's preaching, and she
+wished they would leave that out. She thought his personal appeals to
+the hearts and consciences of his flock very Methodistical, such being
+the title given by a great many people to any thing like earnestness.
+
+She could understand, or thought she could, the motives of Miss
+Eustace, an heiress, and a very beautiful and dignified person, in
+presenting a superb altar-cloth and set of cushions to the church, but
+she could not comprehend why the same Miss Eustace should sit back with
+her Sunday scholars, every Sunday, and find all their places for them,
+or why she should spend a great deal of her time in working for them,
+when no one would know it, unless by accident. Laura lived entirely in
+and for this world, and thought or cared no more for any other than if
+she had had no soul.
+
+
+Olive returned to Basswoods, feeling as if the winter would be rather
+a long one. Walter was not there. He had gone, after a short visit in
+M., to pursue his studies at a distance. He was to return at Christmas
+for a week, and to this week she looked forward as a weary passenger on
+shipboard looks for the land.
+
+The school filled up at once, and so many large girls came in, that
+Olive, after a good deal of consideration and consultation, came to the
+conclusion that it would by necessary to have another teacher for the
+little ones. Mrs. Tucker and a few of her special adherents, who had
+formed a sort of party against Olive, manœuvred greatly to get this
+appointment into their own hands. Mrs. Tucker wished to give it to a
+young friend of her own, and, by what she considered a master-stroke of
+policy, she invited that young lady to come and make her a visit during
+the vacation. Miss Lambert was really a nice sort of girl, and would
+have answered Olive's purpose very well, but Mrs. Tucker had reckoned
+without her host, and like some other great generals, had out-manœuvred
+not her adversary, but herself. Mr. Jones heard his sister-in-law's
+innuendoes and suggestions very patiently, for some time.
+
+"Sister Tucker," he broke out at last, "do you really think the
+trustees are going to do such a mean and uncivil thing as to put an
+assistant into the school without consulting Miss McHenry's wishes
+about it?"
+
+"I don't see the incivility," replied Mrs. Tucker, a good deal alarmed,
+but standing her ground. "If Miss McHenry did not like it, she could
+leave."
+
+"Yes, and that is what you want. Because she checked Melissa in her
+tattling when she first came, as you ought to have done yourself
+long ago, you have always been against her. Now, listen to me. These
+insinuations against Miss McHenry must be put a stop to, at once and
+forever. They do you no credit, let me tell you, either as a woman or a
+Christian, and you do Miss Lambert great harm. She seems a pretty good
+girl, and if Miss McHenry approves of her, there may be no objection to
+having her. But not one step shall be taken without her concurrence."
+
+Mrs. Tucker could only murmur something about "not meaning any harm."
+
+"Then be careful you don't do any harm. I have seen so much malice, and
+so much mischief under that cloak of not meaning any harm, that I don't
+think much of it."
+
+In effect, Miss McHenry, understanding the state of the case, willing
+to conciliate, and having seen Miss Lambert and conversed with her away
+from her champion, Mrs. Tucker, was very well pleased with her, and
+signified to the trustees that she had no objection to their giving her
+the vacant place.
+
+Mrs. Tucker exulted greatly, but her triumph was of short duration.
+For Miss Lambert, being really an honest, good-hearted, affectionate
+girl, and positively declining to tell tales out of school, and
+submitting herself entirely to the guidance of her principal, Mrs.
+Tucker considered her as having gone over to the enemy, and quarrelled
+with her, accordingly. It became necessary for her to seek a new
+boarding-place, and as she had abundance of room, Olive persuaded Mrs.
+Felton to take her.
+
+Maria was young, and her opportunities had not been great. She
+delighted to read and study under Olive's direction, and she, on her
+part, grew very much attached to her, and so ended an affair which
+might have been a very serious one for our heroine, had her friends
+been one whit less straightforward or sensible.
+
+But Miss Lambert did not remain through the year, for a very good
+reason—an excellent reason, indeed, since it was no other than Mr.
+Prendergrass. That gentleman had fallen into the habit of visiting at
+least once a week at Mrs. Felton's, and to him habit was second nature.
+So he kept on visiting there, as usual, after Olive returned. And now
+that there was no farther danger of mistakes, Olive was very glad to
+see him.
+
+But after Miss Lambert came, she began to perceive, with much
+amusement, that she was not the principal attraction. He talked to
+her, indeed, but he looked at Maria. She was very glad to observe,
+after a little, that Maria herself had no objection to have Mr.
+Prendergrass look at her, that she was glad to see him when he came,
+and low-spirited if he went away early, or failed to present himself at
+the usual time.
+
+At last, one day, not long after the holidays, Maria came to Olive's
+room, and with blushes, and smiles, and tears, and much pretty
+confusion, acquainted her with the fact that Mr. Prendergrass had
+offered himself to her, and wished to be advised.
+
+"About what does Maria wish to be advised?" Olive asked.
+
+Maria wanted to be advised whether she should marry Mr. Prendergrass or
+not.
+
+"That depends entirely upon circumstances, my dear. If you do not love
+him, you ought not to marry him."
+
+"But I am afraid I do love him," sobbed Maria.
+
+"Then you had better marry him, by all means, my love, if there is no
+other objection. He is a most excellent man, and no doubt will make you
+very happy."
+
+"You know I have neither father nor mother," said Maria. "I have hardly
+a friend in the world but you."
+
+"Don't think of marrying simply for a home, Maria. I would rather you
+did almost any thing else."
+
+"I don't indeed, Miss McHenry. I would rather go to the poor-house. But
+I do like him so very much, and he is so good—that—that—"
+
+"That you can not help crying about it," said Olive smiling, and
+kissing her. "My love, I think you could hardly have done better, and I
+wish you joy with all my heart. Now then, dry your eyes and answer Mr.
+Prendergrass's note and don't keep the poor man in suspense any longer."
+
+"Poor man," she thought as Maria left the room. "I need not have
+distressed myself so much about breaking his heart and all that. I do
+not believe men's hearts are so easily fractured after all."
+
+Olive felt some awkwardness upon meeting and congratulating her former
+lover upon his approaching marriage, but there was no necessity for any
+embarrassment upon her part, for he evidently felt none. The fact that
+he had once cared himself to Olive seemed to have passed entirely from
+his mind, and he could think of nothing and look at nothing but his
+dear Maria.
+
+There was no reason why the marriage should be delayed, as Mr.
+Prendergrass beside his salary had a comfortable little property, the
+result of his savings for many years.
+
+Augusta and Ruth helped Olive to put Maria's wardrobe into a state
+befitting so grand an occasion. She had many presents, indeed quite a
+setting out of plate and china from those who took an interest in the
+motherless girl. The wedding took place at Mrs. Felton's and was quite
+a splendid affair. Contrary to the forebodings of those who knew his
+habits, Mr. Prendergrass was not late and did not forget the ring.
+Maria looked very lovely, the bridegroom very manly and sensible, and
+every one was pleased except Mrs. Tucker.
+
+That lady was not pleased. She thought Mr. Prendergrass ought to be
+ashamed of himself to marry such a little chit of a girl as Maria
+Lambert—a man of "his" age! It was all an affair of Miss McHenry's
+getting up, and just like her. Maria had been a good girl before she
+fell under that woman's influence—but she had shown the disposition of
+a serpent in going to Mrs. Felton's, as if that lady was in the habit
+of taking reptiles to board, and she would have no more to do with her:
+so she would not go to the wedding, though Maria invited her, and would
+not call upon her, though they lived very near—a circumstance which
+probably did not detract in the least from the happiness of Maria's
+married life.
+
+It was wonderful and exceedingly pleasant to see how Mr. Prendergrass
+improved under the influence of his young wife. He learned to dress,
+talk, and comport himself much like ordinary mortals, discovered that
+there were other objects in life besides books, and entertained company
+at home with great propriety. Maria was as happy as the day was long,
+thought her husband the most wonderful of men, and herself the happiest
+woman in the world, especially after Olive consented to take her
+younger sister in her place. She insisted upon Olive's coming to make
+them a visit.
+
+And Olive accepted the invitation and enjoyed it greatly, thinking at
+least once every day how much Mr. Prendergrass was superior to Mr.
+Forester though he could not have told a Claude from a Turner—and his
+musical knowledge, like the western gentleman's, only amounted to two
+tunes, one of which was Old Hundred and the other wasn't; and how much
+happier Maria was than poor Abby.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER FOURTEENTH.
+
+OLIVE was not with Abby at her confinement, after all—not from any
+fault of her own, but because Mr. Forester had very clearly intimated
+that he did not want her, and preferred even his own sister Emma, whom
+he did not seem to like very well either. But though Olive was not with
+her, Aunt Merton was—to explain which, we must go back a little.
+
+As the time of trial drew near, Emma Forester, who was staying with
+Abby, saw that there was something which weighed upon her mind and
+disturbed her very much.
+
+Emma was a kind-hearted and practical woman—she had need to be so,
+having exercised in her own person all the common-sense which had been
+brought to bear upon the family affairs since she was twelve years'
+old. She was not a favorite with her brothers or sisters, and truth
+to say, Emma's manners were not amiable: she was apt to be short and
+rather sharp in her replies, and to criticise, especially her brother
+William, pretty severely. She had been very much displeased with him
+for his marriage, an affair which his mother considered as at worst
+only an amiable eccentricity—but her anger did not extend to her little
+sister-in-law, for whom she felt very sorry, well-knowing what was
+before her.
+
+William had positively declined having Olive to stay with Abby during
+her confinement, not so much in words, as in looks and tones, giving
+it to be understood that he preferred having his house to himself.
+He would not have had Emma either, if he could have helped himself,
+but she left him no choice, coming of her own accord about six
+weeks beforehand, and establishing herself for a long stay, without
+consulting him.
+
+Abby was delighted to have Emma, since she could not have Olive. They
+suited very well: Emma from temper and habit liking to direct, and
+Abby pleased to be directed. Emma took at once the whole charge of
+housekeeping off her sister's hands, leaving her to take the rest she
+so much needed: and this in itself was a great relief.
+
+But her good offices did not end here. She saw that Abby was very
+unhappy—that she had some secret trouble, apart from the vague fear
+of death which had haunted her by turns for a long time. And she set
+herself kindly and delicately to discover and if possible to remedy it.
+At last, after much coaxing, it all came out in a gush of tears.
+
+"O Emma! I want to see aunt Rebecca so much. I want to tell her how
+very sorry I am for displeasing her, and ask her to forgive me."
+
+"Well, love, what hinders you from writing to her? I dare say she would
+come and see you at once, if she knew you desired to see her."
+
+"I am sure she would," sobbed Abby. "Olive says she always asks about
+me. I would give any thing to see her once more."
+
+"Why not write immediately?" asked Emma.
+
+"William does not wish to have me, Emma. He does not like aunt, and he
+thinks uncle has insulted him. I did speak about it once, but—" A new
+gush of tears followed, as she recalled the scene.
+
+"Don't cry, my dear—now you really must not!" said Emma, with
+authority. "I think it can be managed, and if it can not, you must not
+make yourself ill about it. Lie down, child, and don't try to sew: I
+will attend to all that."
+
+Abby still looked anxious. "I don't know whether it is best for you to
+say any thing, Emma. I am afraid—"
+
+"Tut! Tut! My dear. He is not my husband, you know. I have not said
+that I shall speak to him either, but I want you to be gratified, if
+possible."
+
+"You do not think it is a notion—do you, Emma?"
+
+"No, child; I think it is a feeling that does you credit. And even if
+it were, I don't see why your notions should not be gratified, as well
+as those of other people."
+
+"Well, I don't know," sighed Abby. "I am afraid I am very troublesome
+and fanciful sometimes. Nothing ever used to disturb me when I was a
+girl. Olive used to cry five times to my once. But lately, some how,
+every thing seems so heavy and hard to me—even things that would not
+have made any impression on me a year ago. I am afraid it is my fault,
+and that I am growing very unamiable."
+
+"You are sick, child; that is all."
+
+"I am glad you think so. You are so good to me, Emma. I don't know how
+I shall ever repay you."
+
+"Pshaw!" returned Emma shortly. "One must be hard-hearted indeed, to be
+any thing but good to such a poor little forlorn bird as you are. I am
+glad if I can do any thing for you, I am sure."
+
+William was out in the evening. There was a grand concert in town, and
+the tickets were only a dollar. He had lost his place as accountant
+that morning, and wanted something to divert his mind from what even he
+thought rather an unpleasant circumstance. So he went to the concert,
+and afterwards took an oyster-supper downtown with a friend, feeling
+not at all uneasy at being out late, since he knew Emma would not let
+his wife sit up for him. He was a little vexed to find Emma herself
+awaiting his return.
+
+"Why did you sit up?" he asked. "You know I can let myself in."
+
+"I did not sit up altogether for you," replied Emma. "I had a piece of
+work to finish to-night. But I do want to speak to you about Abby."
+
+"Is she ill?" asked Mr. Forester, rather anxiously.
+
+"She is as well as she has been for some days past, but she is very
+unhappy, poor child."
+
+"What does she want now?" said he, with the air of a man accustomed to
+yield to a vast number of unreasonable desires upon the part of his
+wife. "I am ready to do any thing in reason."
+
+"She wants to see her aunt," replied Emma, as usual coming to the point
+at once.
+
+Mr. Forester's face was darkened by a very unpleasant frown. "I thought
+I had settled that matter once for all," he said, tapping his finger
+upon the table. "I told Abby that when her uncle would apologize for
+his treatment of me, I would let her see him, and not before. I must
+say, she forgets her duty as a wife, in complaining of me to you, and I
+do not think the better of you for encouraging her in it."
+
+"She has not complained of you!" returned Emma, indignantly. "She
+thinks you are a demi-god, or somewhere near it, poor child."
+
+"How did this come out, then?"
+
+"I guessed it, and she admitted that it was so."
+
+"And told you I would not let her write?"
+
+"She said you thought it was not best."
+
+"I do think so. I think, too, that Abby forgets herself strangely,
+in cherishing a desire which she knows to be directly contrary to
+my judgment. Since you are in her confidence, you may tell her that
+neither Mr. nor Mrs. Merton shall ever enter my doors, till they make
+me a humble apology. In her present condition, there is nothing to be
+done but to get along with her whims as easily as possible, but when
+she is better—it don't signify talking of it now! I thought you knew
+that I had too much pride and self-respect to be over-crowed by my
+wife's relations."
+
+He took up his candle to go up-stairs.
+
+"Very good," said Emma, coolly. "Keep your pride and self-respect, and
+lose your wife. Do you know what Dr. M. thinks of her?"
+
+William hesitated, turned, and came back to the table. "Doctors are so
+fanciful," he said peevishly.
+
+Emma did not reply.
+
+"Do you really think, Emma, that there is danger?"
+
+"There is always danger," was the brief response.
+
+"I should be sorry to cross her unnecessarily," he continued, after
+another pause. "She tries her best to please me, I must say, but,—don't
+you think, Emma, she is very childish?"
+
+"Very, or she would never have married you," was the rather unpromising
+reply. "But you are the last person who ought to complain of that. You
+knew what she was when you took her."
+
+"I knew she was young and girlish, and thought I could form her mind—"
+
+"You had better have formed your own first," interrupted his sister.
+
+"I thought I could make her what I wanted. You know what sort of woman
+I always admired—a gentle, yielding character that would twine round
+her husband like the honeysuckle round an elm."
+
+"Like a pea round a pumpkin-vine would be the better comparison in your
+case," said Emma. "You never could stand alone yourself, much less
+sustain any thing else. But there is no use in talking of that now: the
+mischief is done, and you have only to make the best of it. Now, the
+case stands thus. Abby, like, all young girls in such circumstances,
+thinks she is certainly going to die, and I do not know but she is
+right, for Dr. M. is very anxious—at any rate, she thinks so. She is
+longing, from the bottom of her affectionate little heart to see the
+people who have brought her up, and been father and mother to her—and
+to be friends with them. It is a reasonable wish, too. But you, for the
+sake of sustaining your absurd pride, deny her this comfort—perhaps the
+last that it may be yours to grant. You admit that she has never gone
+contrary to your wishes since you married her, and, on the contrary,
+has striven in every way to please you, and yet you will not make this
+small sacrifice to soothe her hour of trial—perhaps of death!"
+
+"Settle it in your own fashion!" said Mr. Forester abruptly, and
+turning away. "I am willing she should have the whole clan here, Olive
+and all, if it will do her any good. Only let me know when they are
+coming that I may be out of the way, and avoid the scene. I must look
+out for something to do, I suppose, and I have not much hope of finding
+it here. I can make that an excuse for running away for a few days."
+
+"Something to do! What do you mean?" asked his sister, with a feeling
+of anxiety which prevented her from noticing, as she otherwise would
+have done, the heartlessness of this speech.
+
+"Oh! I have given up my engagement with Hancock, and shall be out
+of work after to-morrow," he replied, with a vain attempt to appear
+unconcerned.
+
+"William, are you mad? Why did you throw up your situation without
+knowing that you had something to turn to, at this time of all others?
+What was the matter?"
+
+"The matter was that we could not agree, and so we thought it best to
+part," returned Mr. Forester doggedly. "He wanted to pin me down to
+the desk from Monday morning till Saturday night, ten hours a day. I
+thought I had a right to some relaxation now and then. So I went off on
+a fishing-party two or three times, you know, and was not there when he
+expected me. Then I COULD not give my whole attention to figures; it is
+quite too tiresome and stupid, and narrows down one's mind to a mere
+point. The consequence was, that I made some trifling mistakes, and so
+you see—"
+
+"I see," said Emma, finishing the sentence for him, "that as usual,
+you have no one to blame but yourself! William, when will you ever be
+a man? You talk of Abby's being a child, and so she is, but a good and
+obedient child; while you are a perverse, self-willed boy—a torment to
+yourself and every one that has any thing to do with you."
+
+She walked nervously up and down the room a few times. William took
+up a pen and began to draw figures all over a sheet of music-paper.
+He was used to his sister's fault-finding, and waited patiently till
+she should exhaust her vexation, and propose some remedy for his
+embarrassments.
+
+"There is no use in all that," he said at last; "and besides, you will
+disturb Abby."
+
+"Very true," replied Emma, pausing in her walk, and throwing herself
+into a corner of the sofa. "I am glad you have the grace to think of
+her. How much have you beforehand?"
+
+"Well, perhaps two hundred dollars—perhaps a little more. I do not know
+exactly how much of my salary I have drawn."
+
+"Don't you keep an account?"
+
+"No, indeed! I tried it once, but the cigars, and so on, mounted up so—"
+
+His sister made a gesture of impatience, and he returned to his trees.
+
+"Is that all you have to depend upon?"
+
+"Pretty much all. There may be a little coming in from publishers."
+
+"And out of this, your rent is to be paid—and the physician, and poor
+Katy, and the nurse, and housekeeping to be carried on! How do you
+think it is all to be done?"
+
+"I don't know, I am sure," replied William, with an air of virtuous
+resignation. "I hope it will all come right some way. I must find
+something else to do, after I have enjoyed a little vacation, and poor
+Abby is right again. And now, don't you think we had better break up
+this council and retire? If she wakes, she may be alarmed. I won't say
+any thing to her, but you may tell her that she may write as penitent a
+letter as she pleases, disowning her husband and all his relations, if
+she will—"
+
+"You know she does not want to do that. She only wants—"
+
+"She only wants what is right, and you, too, I dare say, sis, though
+you are rather sharp in your way of putting it. Come, now, don't look
+so miserable," he added, in a coaxing way, putting his arm round her.
+"I will be as steady as old Hancock himself, if you will only kiss and
+be friends."
+
+Emma yielded, as she almost always did in the end, to her fascinating
+brother's soothing and coaxing, so far as to kiss him good-night. But
+she lay awake till almost morning, thinking what was to become of her
+brother and sister when worse came to the worst—when they had spent all
+they had, and exhausted every one's patience.
+
+Abby roused up as William entered, and begged to know if there was any
+thing wrong, but being gayly assured that every thing was very right,
+went quietly to sleep again.
+
+As for William, nothing disturbed his slumbers: if he had been going
+to be hanged the next morning, he would have slept equally well,
+comforting himself with the reflection that something favorable would
+certainly happen before the time came.
+
+Abby was very happy next morning when Emma informed her that there
+was no farther objection to her writing to her aunt, but her joy was
+a little damped when she was told (for Emma thought best to tell her)
+that William would probably have to be away upon business at the
+time. Still, it was with a joyful heart that she sat down to indite
+her letter, which she wrote and rewrote with a nervous anxiety, till
+Emma, seeing the state of the case, took the best copy from her hand,
+pronounced it good enough, folded and sealed it, and then placed it
+before Abby, to direct. William carried it to the post, without any
+remark, and made his wife very happy all day by a great many kind
+words, and some little attentions, which cost him nothing, but which
+were invaluable to her.
+
+The family at Mr. Merton's were seated at the breakfast-table, when the
+letter was brought in.
+
+Mrs. Merton took it, and broke the seal. And when Charlotte looked up
+from one of her own a moment after, she was both astonished and alarmed
+to see such an unusual sight as tears rolling down her mother's cheeks.
+She rose hastily, as did Mr. Merton, and the Black Prince, with his
+accustomed delicacy, withdrew, under the pretext of seeking hot cakes,
+but remained close by the outside of the door—perhaps to be within call.
+
+"It is from Abby," said Mrs. Merton, as soon as she could find a
+voice. "The poor dear child has come to her senses at last. Read it,
+Charlotte, my dear."
+
+And Charlotte read, being obliged to pause more than once in the course
+of it. When she had done, she looked anxiously from one to the other.
+
+"You will go—you will go at once, father, will you not?"
+
+"Certainly, my dear child, if your mother says so. I dislike the idea
+of meeting Forester, but poor Abby must not be disappointed. Yes, we
+will go at once."
+
+"You will not see him," said Charlotte. "Did you not notice, she says
+he will be obliged to go away upon business?"
+
+"Then we will set out without delay—as early as to-morrow," said Mrs.
+Merton.
+
+"Why not to-day?" asked her husband. "There is time enough."
+
+"Perhaps it will be better to leave space for a letter to precede us,"
+suggested Mrs. Merton. "We must not startle her, you know."
+
+Mr. Merton acquiesced, and Charlotte sat down, at once, to write the
+letter.
+
+How delighted Abby was when she received it! She laughed and cried
+by turns, kissed her husband and thanked him so many times that he
+really began to think he had made a meritorious sacrifice, and felt
+very self-complacent in consequence. He half-resolved to stay and face
+it out, but found his courage failing the next morning, and went off,
+bidding his wife a most affectionate farewell, thinking, as he went,
+how badly he should feel if he were to lose her, and beginning at once
+to set his possible feelings first to rhyme and then to music, till he
+composed an affecting song, called the "Widower's Lament."
+
+Abby would sit at the window and watch for carriages till she was
+wearied out, and obliged to lie down upon the sofa, in spite of
+herself. Then she fell asleep, and when she awoke, she found her aunt
+and uncle sitting beside her.
+
+It is impossible to say what extravagances she might have committed,
+if aunt Rebecca had not put on her most impressive face of authority,
+and absolutely forbidden her to speak one word. Abby submitted, and lay
+still, hardly daring to think that she was awake, and not dreaming.
+She still lay upon the sofa, feeling very weak, but very happy, while
+the others went out to tea, listening, with subdued pleasure, to their
+voices, and enjoying the thought that uncle and aunt Merton were taking
+tea in her house.
+
+How exactly it seemed like old times, when aunt Rebecca brought her her
+tea in the little silver mug which she had always used at home, and
+which had been sent to her, with the rest of her possessions, at the
+time of her marriage. She could almost believe that she had never been
+away at all.
+
+Aunt Merton was one who never did any thing by halves. When she made
+up her mind to take Abby into favor, she did it heartily, and showed
+that she did, by making no allusions to the past, except such as were
+necessary in talking over affairs in M. The neighbors, the servants,
+the garden, above all, Laura's approaching marriage, were all talked
+over again and again, till Mr. Merton suggested that Abby must be
+tired, and that they had better go.
+
+Abby, however, was very anxious to have them stay. There was plenty of
+room, and if aunt thought she could be comfortable—.
+
+Aunt had no doubt at all about that, and so they staid. It was well
+they did, for Abby was taken ill in the night, and after some hours of
+considerable danger, was "as well as could be expected," with a fine
+little daughter.
+
+Emma telegraphed to her brother with but a faint hope of his getting
+the message, for she knew he would probably be off fishing or
+scenery-hunting, and so it proved. He did not return till nearly a week
+had elapsed, and knew nothing of the matter till Emma met him at the
+door. He was sufficiently alarmed, on hearing the state of the case, to
+ward off the lecture which had been brewing for him, and she had hard
+work to keep him from rushing up to his wife's room at once.
+
+Aunt Merton came down to see him, while he was waiting for Emma to
+prepare Abby, and though nothing but politeness, and even cordiality,
+were expressed in her tone, she succeeded, in ten minutes, in making
+him feel more like some condemned piece of furniture about to be sent
+to auction than like the master of his own house.
+
+Abby was not so well as she had been, and William was cautioned
+against exciting her. He was very much affected at the sight of the
+wee colorless face, looking smaller than ever from the absence of the
+accustomed curls, and showed so much feeling that Mrs. Merton began to
+think she had done him injustice.
+
+Abby brightened up very much after he came home, and she really was
+very happy—happy in her baby, which she found some difficulty in
+imagining to be really hers—in her husband whom she felt was showing
+to excellent advantage—in having so many friends about her, and every
+one so much kinder than she deserved. She felt sad when she thought of
+their all going away and leaving her alone. But then there would be
+baby, and she thought she could not be very lonely.
+
+Emma wished very much that she could stay, but she well knew that it
+would be impossible.
+
+Mrs. Forester and Emmeline fancied they were unable to live without
+her. Emmeline liked to think that she had delicate health, and that it
+hurt her to work. She could go to two or three parties in a week, and
+dance till two o'clock in the morning, though it always made her feel
+dreadfully to dust the parlor, and fatigued her almost to extinction to
+make her own bed. She always got a terrible headache over plain sewing,
+though she could embroider for hours, yes, even upon silver canvas, and
+her crochet collars and mats almost equalled real lace in fineness. In
+short, Emmeline could play to any extent, but work always made her sick
+directly.
+
+Mrs. Forester never thought that Emmeline ought to be crossed in any
+thing. She was not strong herself, and she was very fanciful besides
+being proud, and her pride was constantly brought into active exercise
+by the reduced circumstances of the family, and the consequent struggle
+to keep up appearances. When Emma was at home, she earned something
+by translating and editing for a publisher of children's books, and
+moreover she took the whole oversight of the household, besides doing a
+great part of the work. It is easy to see that she could not be spared.
+
+Abby did not recover so rapidly as they had at first hoped. She did
+not seem to have any particular disorder, but she gained strength very
+slowly, and now and then slight symptoms of a tendency to disease
+of the lungs alarmed her aunt and the physician. She was very much
+distressed when she found that William had lost his place, for she was
+beginning to realize how much it cost them to keep house, and she knew
+her husband would never exercise any sort of economy. It cost her a
+feverish night, and she was worse for three or four days.
+
+Mr. Merton saw that something had gone wrong and that Mr. Forester was
+out of employment. And after a day or two, he ventured to make some
+inquiries of that gentleman relative to his affairs.
+
+Mr. Forester was decidedly stiff and cold at first, but he could not
+withstand Mr. Merton's kindness, and moreover he was at his wits'
+end for the means of supporting himself and his wife. His mother had
+heretofore been his resource when he had exhausted his own finances,
+but she had impoverished herself in her efforts to help him. And Emma,
+in answer to a hint of the sort, had informed him that any farther
+assistance from that quarter was entirely out of the question. He
+confessed to Mr. Merton, at last, that he had hardly the means of
+defraying the expenses of his wife's confinement, to say nothing of
+the cost of housekeeping. He had drawn on Mr. Hancock for his salary
+as fast as it became due, and instead of having, as he supposed, a
+considerable balance in that gentleman's hands, he was actually some
+few dollars in debt to him.
+
+There was no use in any reproaches, and Mr. Merton made none, but
+promised to see what he could do towards finding him employment.
+Mr. Forester was very much obliged, and thought to himself that it
+might not, after all, be a bad thing to have made up friends with his
+wife's rich uncle. After two or three days, Mr. Merton held another
+conversation with him, in the course of which he told him that he had
+procured for him a situation as accountant and draughtsman in a large
+foundry and machine-shop. The salary was liberal, but close attention
+to business would be absolutely necessary, in order to retain the
+place. He took the opportunity to press upon Mr. Forester's attention
+the great advantage of keeping regular accounts, and being economical
+of time as well as money. He thought the young gentleman might find
+time to finish his law studies, and be prepared to enter into business
+as a lawyer in the course of a year, promising him all the assistance
+in his power, and Mr. Forester thanked him, and listened respectfully,
+with some faint idea of following the advice. He went to work the next
+day, with great vigor.
+
+At the end of a week's trial, his employer professed himself perfectly
+satisfied, and engaged him for a year, at a salary which, care and
+economy, would be sufficient to support them in comfort. With this
+care removed from her mind, Abby began to improve rapidly, and in the
+course of a few days was so much better that her aunt thought she might
+venture to leave her to herself.
+
+"Suppose," said she to her husband, "that we go round the other way,
+stop at Basswoods, and take Olive home with us. It will be so much
+pleasanter than for her to come alone."
+
+Mr. Merton thought it an excellent idea, and, accordingly, as Olive was
+sitting at the piano one evening after tea, she was surprised by the
+sudden entrance of her uncle and aunt.
+
+At first she was frightened, thinking that Abby must be worse. But
+a moment's thought reassured her, and she gave herself up to the
+unexpected enjoyment. They had proposed to stay at the hotel, but Mrs.
+Felton had abundance of room, as Isabella Lambert was at her sister's:
+she was very urgent with them to remain, and Mrs. Merton finally
+consented, after stipulating that she should make no difference in the
+family arrangements. There was, indeed, no need of her doing so, for
+Mrs. Felton's housekeeping was always carried on upon a very liberal
+scale—so liberal, indeed, that Olive thought she could not make much by
+her boarders.
+
+"Why, really, my love, you are delightfully situated here—are you not?"
+said Mrs. Merton, as she surveyed Olive's comfortable room. "I had no
+idea that you were in such luxurious quarters. I should think Mrs.
+Felton might be a trifle wearisome sometimes, however."
+
+"One soon gets used to it," replied Olive, smiling. "I know exactly how
+much importance to attach to her complaints, and in general mind them
+no more than the rain on the windows. She is really very kind to me,
+and I have no excuse for being dissatisfied or home-sick, except the
+desire to see you all."
+
+"And Miss Felton—what a delightful person she is!" pursued Mrs. Merton.
+"She is not pretty, but there is such a charming cheerfulness about her
+face and voice that she really seems to bring the sunshine into the
+room with her. If she only had a little more style, she would really
+make a sensation in society. You must bring her home with you some
+time, Olive, to make a visit. I should be quite delighted to have her,
+and I think a little of the world would be a great advantage to her."
+
+"I am glad you like her," said Olive, feeling as though she did not
+care to have Ruth improved in that way. "She is one of my most intimate
+friends. I want you to see Mrs. Tower; she is very different from Ruth,
+but equally excellent."
+
+"All in good time, my dear. I mean to see all your friends before I go,
+and your school, too. How soon is it out?"
+
+"There is only one week more."
+
+"And then you have an examination, I suppose?"
+
+"No, aunt, I am thankful to say, we do not. We have a review-day
+every fortnight, and the last two weeks of the term are spent in the
+same way, but we have no public display, except in declamation and
+compositions. The school is open to visitors at all times, and we
+have a good many, especially on repetition-days. If you will come in
+to-morrow, we shall be very glad to see you. I assure you I am proud of
+my girls. But I want to hear all about Abby and the baby."
+
+Mrs. Merton was very ready to tell; and Abby's affairs, and Laura's
+approaching marriage, occupied the evening. Olive was very much touched
+at hearing of her uncle's kindness, and especially on learning what
+neither Abby nor William yet knew, that he had defrayed the entire
+expenses of her sister's confinement, besides leaving in Abby's hands a
+sum sufficient to last till William should receive his first quarter's
+salary. She could not help feeling some sympathy for what she supposed
+must be William's mortification at being oblige to receive assistance
+from one whom he had so deeply wronged, but she might have spared
+herself the trouble.
+
+That talented young gentleman had early imbibed the idea that he was
+created to amuse himself, and the rest of mankind to wait upon him.
+From the exaltation of his fancied genius and refinement, he looked
+calmly down upon those lower mortals, whose grovelling minds permitted
+them to learn and labor truly to get their own living, in the state
+of life to which God had called them. He had felt a little annoyed at
+first, on discovering that Mr. Merton had left money with Abby, but the
+feeling did not prevent him from spending seven or eight dollars of
+it upon some new engravings which had struck his fancy, and which, he
+assured Abby, were so cheap that it would have been really foolish not
+to buy them.
+
+"Economy!" he said, when she remonstrated with him. "Oh! Yes, of
+course, we must practise economy, but your uncle can not expect me
+to deny myself all gratifications. I can not live without books and
+pictures."
+
+"In what, then, do you propose to economize?" persisted Abby.
+
+"Oh! Why—in dress and housekeeping—any thing, in short, but
+intellectual pleasures."
+
+Abby shook her head. "The housekeeping costs as little as it can,
+William."
+
+"But could you not manage with a less expensive girl, my dear? I have
+heard of servants getting only six shillings a week, and we give Katy
+twelve!"
+
+"I do not like to part with Katy," replied Abby, her heart sinking
+at the prospect of a new and cheap girl. "She has just learned to be
+useful, and attends to baby so nicely."
+
+"Oh! Well, I only mentioned it. I thought, when it came to your own
+case, you would not be so very desirous of saving. It is easy to be
+economical of other people's enjoyments."
+
+Abby's pale face flushed, and the tears filled her eyes.
+
+"There, now, don't cry! I am sorry I said any thing, but you are so
+cool in proposing your economy to me. But come, cheer up, my little
+darling. I am coming to take you to ride presently."
+
+Abby cheered up, and was thankful for the prospect of a little fresh
+air, for she was not able to walk out yet. But when the carriage came,
+there was a new cause of annoyance.
+
+"Why do you wear that coarse blanket of a thing, my dear?" said
+William, glancing disdainfully at the large woollen shawl Abby had put
+on. "It makes you look like a servant."
+
+"I have no other," replied Abby, coloring. "My cloak is not warm
+enough, and I can not wrap the baby in it."
+
+"Oh! Pray don't take the baby. She will be sure to cry, as they always
+do when they ought not to, and besides, it will tire you to death. I
+am sure your cloak is warm enough, my love," he continued, dexterously
+removing the obnoxious shawl, and throwing it over the arm of the sofa.
+"You do not know how mild and pleasant it is. Come, you are too bad to
+make such a figure of yourself, when you know how much I like to have
+you admired, and you are ten times prettier than ever."
+
+So Abby wore the cloak, returned home chilled through, and was very ill
+next day, in consequence. Mr. Forester was very sorry, paid her every
+attention, and to prevent the possibility of such an accident happening
+again, went out and bought a new shawl, for which he paid thirty
+dollars.
+
+
+To return to Basswoods! Mrs. Merton was delighted with the place and
+the people, and quite astonished to find so much refinement in a
+country village. Mrs. Gregory made a little party for her: so did Mrs.
+Gordon, and at both did Mrs. Merton win golden opinions from all sorts
+of people, by her elegant appearance and charming manners. It was a
+peculiarity of hers that every one with whom she conversed ten minutes,
+felt as though he or she had received a personal favor. Some of Mrs.
+Tucker's adherents, who had hitherto been rather unfriendly to Olive,
+suddenly turned completely round, and were warm in their praises of her
+and her relations.
+
+In short, Mrs. Merton's visit did a great deal of good, and Olive
+enjoyed it extremely. She told her aunt she thought it would not do
+to offer to pay Mrs. Felton for their board, and Mrs. Merton, after
+considerable hesitation, consented to give up the idea, thinking that
+she could make it up in some other way. Accordingly, she afterwards
+sent Mrs. Felton a beautiful dress and shawl, with an elegant letter,
+which Mrs. Felton showed to all the village, thanking her for all her
+kindness to her niece, and requesting her to accept the accompanying
+articles from herself and her husband, as a testimonial of her
+gratitude.
+
+A proud and happy woman was Mrs. Felton. Ruth was pleased with the
+delicacy of the attention to her mother, and Mr. Felton, whose
+conversation was usually summed up in a semidiurnal report of the state
+of the weather, gave vent to the profound and original idea, that in
+point of fact, some people were very different from other people.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER FIFTEENTH.
+
+MRS. DIMSDEN'S summer campaign at Newport and Saratoga had been
+successful, almost beyond her highest hopes. Laura was going to be
+married to a man of wealth and position fully equal to her uncle
+Merton's—a man who had been an object with speculating young ladies and
+their mammas for several years. Attracted by Miss Dimsden's magnificent
+beauty, he had followed the ladies from Cape May to Newport, from
+Newport to the White Mountains, and from thence to Saratoga, where he
+finally surrendered at discretion.
+
+It was a singular circumstance that no sooner was it known that Mr.
+Witherington was engaged to the young and beautiful Miss Dimsden, than
+all these same speculating young ladies and their speculating mammas
+were at once filled with pity and sympathy for the poor girl, thus
+remorselessly sacrificed by her heartless aunt, and with contempt for
+the weak-minded suitor, caught by a girl without principle and without
+fortune.
+
+Olive had made anxious inquiries of Mrs. Merton concerning her future
+brother-in-law.
+
+"It is an excellent match, my dear, in all the generally received
+senses of that much abused word. Mr. Witherington is a man of good
+manners, excellent principles, and a large fortune. He has a fine house
+in town, and a fine house in the country, and all that; and moreover,
+he is desperately in love with Laura."
+
+"Then I do not see, aunt, but that Laura's chances for happiness are
+excellent."
+
+"If you will excuse my saying so, Olive, I think her chances are better
+than his." Olive looked at her inquiringly. "You know I am not romantic
+in the least," continued Mrs. Merton, "but then I have rather peculiar
+notions. I do not think a woman has any right to marry a man unless she
+honestly prefers him to all the rest of the world."
+
+"And you think, aunt, that Laura does not—"
+
+"I think she is almost indifferent, my dear. Begging your pardon for
+speaking so freely of your sister, I do not think she has depth of
+character enough to appreciate a man like Mr. Witherington. He is an
+earnest, grave person—what I call a weighty man, and I fear he will be
+disappointed in his wife. Of course, he can see no fault in her now."
+
+"But it seems rather strange," said Olive, after a little silence,
+"that Laura should not like such a man."
+
+"She does like him, my child, but she does not love him, and no one
+should know better than you that there is all the difference in the
+world between loving and liking."
+
+"I suppose aunt Dimsden is delighted."
+
+"Oh! Of course; you know what her ideas of marriage are. But don't
+attach too much importance to what I say, my love," added Mrs. Merton
+kindly. "Perhaps when you see them together, you may think I am
+entirely mistaken."
+
+"And how is Laura?" asked Olive.
+
+"She is splendid—really magnificent! I never knew that she was half so
+beautiful, and she has a subdued, gentle manner, which is very becoming
+to her. And now, while I think of it, Mrs. Dimsden is bent upon having
+a grand display—a reception, and all that, and of course you and
+Charlotte must be dressed to correspond. Now what I want to stipulate
+is that you shall permit us to provide your dress and ornaments. I know
+you like to be independent, my dear, but you must really allow us this
+pleasure. You will have ways enough to dispose of your earnings by and
+by."
+
+Olive accepted the kindness, and felt very grateful for it. She knew
+her aunt wanted her to be dressed like Charlotte upon all occasions, an
+expenditure which, now that she was dependent upon her own resources,
+and had such a strong motive for saving, she felt that she could not
+well afford, and she appreciated the delicacy which thus granted a
+favor on pretense of asking one.
+
+They arrived at home early in the evening, and Olive was hardly dressed
+before the Black Prince announced Mr. Witherington and Miss Dimsden.
+
+Laura was certainly more dazzling than ever, and Olive could not wonder
+at her lover for looking at her constantly, even while talking to other
+people. She was very much pleased with Mr. Witherington. He did not
+talk much, and was evidently full of serious thought, but what said was
+frank, manly, and to the purpose. She thought he winced a good deal
+under Mrs. Dimsden's genteel vulgarisms, and she admired the adroit way
+in which Laura often contrived to turn the conversation, or to divert
+her lover's attention to herself.
+
+The evening passed before she could satisfy herself as to whether her
+aunt was right in her ideas about the depth of Laura's attachment.
+
+
+The next day she spent the whole morning in her sister's apartment,
+admiring and commenting upon the bridal finery which Laura displayed
+for her inspection. Every thing was of the best and handsomest, and
+Olive gave her aunt credit for greater liberality than she had thought
+belonged to her. Laura told her how many presents she had had.
+
+"These two boxes of hankerchiefs Charlotte gave me. See what beauties
+they are, all marked with my name so ingeniously. Aunt Merton gave me
+this set of cameos. Don't they look just like her, so quietly elegant?
+Besides, she and uncle together gave me the tea and coffee-set that you
+will see by and by. They are much handsomer than Jane Lewis's were.
+Mrs. Schuyler gave me the fruit and cake-knives, and Louisa a beautiful
+little pitcher. The Jenners sent me the egg-cups lined with gold, and
+Mrs. John Jenner a beautiful basket, etc., etc. Now confess, Olive, is
+it not worth while to be married, to have such beautiful things given
+to one?"
+
+"I am afraid I never took that into the calculation," said Olive,
+good-naturedly.
+
+"No, I dare say not, but you and I are very different, you know. Now
+only think, if you had only been guided by aunt Dimsden, you might have
+married a rich man, too, instead of a poor minister. Not," she added
+hastily, "that Mr. Witherington's money is the only good thing about
+him."
+
+"I should think his money was the least recommendation," said Olive.
+"He appears to me to be a very earnest, excellent man. I only hope you
+love him as he deserves."
+
+Laura laughed and then sighed. "Why, to tell you the simple truth,
+Olive, I don't think it is in me to 'fall in love,' as people call
+it, with any body. I esteem Mr. Witherington highly, and I have a
+very great respect for him. I think that is a great deal more sure
+foundation than such a violent passion, don't you?"
+
+Olive shook her head. "'Love,' honor, and obey, Laura!"
+
+"Oh! Well, of course, yes. But there is another thing, Olive—do you
+think that obey is to be rendered literally, or is it just put in to
+fill out the line?"
+
+"I think of it in this way, Laura. A man ought to be head of his own
+house, and when there is a decided difference of opinion, the wife
+ought to give up. I must say I do not believe in a woman's humoring a
+man in all his whims and caprices, as Abby does with William. It is not
+good for her, and certainly it is very bad for him."
+
+"But, now for instance, to take something that you know all about,
+there was Janet Forster. She married Mr. Heyling, you know, when she
+was so very poor, and he not only took care of her, but of all her
+relatives. Then she was seized with a poetical mania, and wanted to
+publish her poems. He was a very proud man, and it disturbed him
+dreadfully to think his wife should write for money. He could not bear
+to have her publish the volume, but she persisted. It came out in spite
+of him, and she got the pay for it, whatever it was. What do you think
+of that?"
+
+"I never knew exactly the truth of the matter before," said Olive,
+"though I knew that poor Mr. Heyling was very unhappy. I must say,
+I think she did very wrong. Supposing that it was a foolish pride,
+which I will not deny, she was under the greatest obligations to him,
+not only for herself, but for her family. The poems were not so very
+splendid that the world would have suffered any great loss from their
+suppression."
+
+"I don't think he objected so much to her publishing as to her writing
+for money."
+
+"Then she ought not to have written for money. What did a few hundred
+dollars, more or less, matter, compared to her husband's annoyance?"
+
+"I always thought she was wrong," remarked Laura. "If I were going
+to differ from my husband, at least I would do it in a delicate way,
+and not make it a subject of town gossip. But I don't believe Mr.
+Witherington will try to govern me much."
+
+"I rather hope he will," said Olive, smiling. "He does not seem at
+all like a man who would be tyrannical or capricious, and a little
+reasonable government will do you no harm."
+
+Laura laughed heartily at the idea. "Really, Olive, you are very good.
+Don't look grave, my dear, I mean to be quite a pattern wife, I assure
+you, and shall preside over my husband's establishment with all the
+dignity and grace imaginable. I mean to make him very happy, and never
+contradict him unless we differ in opinion. But come down-stairs—I want
+to show you my presents."
+
+The presents were magnificent. Laura had their cost all by heart, and
+went over it all with a readiness which would have done credit to a
+jeweller's' clerk.
+
+"What a quantity of silver you have!" remarked Olive. "If you should
+ever become reduced in circumstances, you might set up a shop, and
+stock it with your bridal presents. Let me see—here are one, two,
+three, six butter-knives, all marked with your name, and how many
+fruit-knives?"
+
+"Two complete sets, besides three odd ones. That is the trouble—one
+gets so many things just alike. I have four or five cream-spoons, and
+three sugar-sifters, and so with other things."
+
+"I shall be quite afraid to put my simple presents by the side of all
+these grand things, Laura. I have not felt as if I could spend much
+money, and my plain white Parian ware will look out of place beside all
+these grand things, I am afraid."
+
+"No, indeed," replied Laura, with more earnestness than she usually
+manifested. "If you had given me nothing more than a sheet of paper,
+Olive, I should think more of it than of all these fine things that
+people give me to display their own liberality, and get themselves
+talked about."
+
+"You don't seem to have a very high opinion of your friends," remarked
+Olive.
+
+"Of course that does not apply to all of them," returned Laura. "Some
+of these were given by dear friends, and these I really value. The
+things uncle and aunt Merton have given me, for instance, and Mrs.
+Schuyler's presents, because she was a friend of mother's, you know,
+and the Jenners, because I always loved them. But there is Maria
+Lewis, she never liked me, though she wanted me to marry Sam. And
+after I refused him, she hated me, I know—yet she sends me this superb
+"odeur"-box, just that she might see it on the table, with her name
+attached to it."
+
+"I should hardly want to accept presents upon such terms, I think,"
+said Olive.
+
+"Oh! The things are just as pretty and convenient, you know, as if they
+liked me ever so much. But tell me, Olive, and pray don't think I ask
+because I am dissatisfied, or any such thing—why can not you afford to
+spend as much money as you want? I am sure you have some good reason."
+
+"My reason is Abby, Laura. I feel as if the time would come when she
+will need all that I can do for her. William is not getting on at all
+in business, and is not likely to. He is very extravagant besides."
+
+"I am very sorry to hear it. I hoped they were doing pretty well.
+Perhaps I shall be able to help them."
+
+"If you can do it by denying yourself, and curtailing your own
+expenses, my dear Laura, I shall be very glad. But pray do not ask Mr.
+Witherington to do any thing for them."
+
+"What a queer girl you are! Why not?"
+
+Olive thought if the "why not" did not present itself, there was no use
+in arguing the point any farther.
+
+"I hope, at any rate, Laura, if your husband approves, you will go and
+see Abby, or at least write to her."
+
+"I have done that already," said Laura. "I told aunt I would not
+be married at all unless she would let me ask Abby to the wedding.
+She made a great fuss at first, and threatened to appeal to Mr.
+Witherington, so I saved her the trouble by appealing to him myself.
+Then she was frightened, for he is so very precise and particular in
+his ideas, and she thought the match might be off."
+
+"What did he say?" asked Olive, very much interested.
+
+"He praised me very much in the first place, for telling him every
+thing. Then he asked very particularly about the affair, and aunt told
+him, only she made it a great deal worse than it was. You would have
+thought Abby had behaved more shamefully than any one ever did in the
+world. I could not help putting in a word now and then, and finally he
+said I might have my own way in the matter. Aunt was very angry, but
+she dared not show it to him, you know. So I wrote to her day before
+yesterday. I do wonder if she will come?"
+
+"I am rather afraid not, Laura. Abby has more on her hands than you
+have any idea of. She wrote to me that she had changed girls lately,
+and she has not learned to keep house so but that it takes all her
+time. Moreover, I do not think William will spare her, and I am very
+certain he will not come himself."
+
+Laura sighed.
+
+"I am very sorry for her, I am sure. It seems a great pity—so pretty
+and well-educated as she is. She ought to be enjoying herself in
+society, instead of being burdened with a house and a baby at her age.
+Only think, she is only eighteen now! I do think girls lose a great
+deal by marrying so young, Olive, even if they marry well."
+
+"I think so, too, Laura. But I must go home, or aunt will miss me at
+luncheon-time. I shall see you again to-morrow, and arrange about every
+thing."
+
+Olive felt rather sadly as she walked homeward. She did not think
+Laura was doing right, and she feared that Mr. Witherington would be
+disappointed in her. He seemed an earnest, thoughtful man, who would
+need something more in a wife beside beauty and fine manners. And,
+fond as she was of her, she could not conceal from herself that Laura
+had no depth, either of character or principle. She clearly married
+Mr. Witherington, not because she loved him, but because he was an
+excellent match, and could give her at once that wealth and position
+which she had been educated to regard as the chief end of existence.
+
+For a time, her husband's eyes might be blinded by her beauty and his
+own passion, but Olive felt as though he must find out the deficiencies
+in his wife after a while, and be made very unhappy by the discovery.
+There was nothing for it, however, but to hope that a man of so much
+depth of character might influence Laura, and lead her to higher
+things. At present, all the energies of herself and her aunt seemed
+concentrated on the desire that the wedding should eclipse every thing
+of the kind ever seen in M. before. Aunt Merton, though she disapproved
+of gay weddings, as a matter of taste, lent her efficient aid to
+gratify them, and devoted more time and attention to the affair than
+she had ever done to any party of her own.
+
+Abby could not come. She wrote that Katy had left her, and the girl she
+had was not very efficient, baby was troublesome, she was not strong
+herself, and, on the whole, she thought it would be better not to
+make the attempt. She sent her love and good wishes, and a beautiful
+handkerchief; embroidered by her own hands, as a present for Laura.
+Olive was glad that Laura persisted in carrying this handkerchief on
+her wedding-day, instead of the more splendid Honiton-bordered one
+which Mrs. Dimsden had provided.
+
+They talked over the letter together, and agreed that it was very sad,
+despite the evident effort to make it cheerful. Abby was clearly very
+home-sick, and very much depressed, though she said not a word of any
+new trouble, except her change of girls, and that baby was troublesome.
+She had made acquaintance with the rector of the nearest church and his
+wife, who were very kind to her, but she could not get to church very
+often. Mrs. Granger came to see her sometimes, and was very good to
+her. Such was the substance of her letter.
+
+
+The eventful day arrived. Olive's dress was perfect, and aunt Rebecca,
+as she clasped the last bracelet—part of a beautiful set of ornaments
+presented by her brother-in-law, pronounced that she had never looked
+so well in her life. And, as Olive looked in the glass, she thought
+so, too, and wished that Walter were there to see her. Mrs. Merton did
+honor to the occasion by a superb new dress, and her most magnificent
+display of diamonds—rather a remarkable thing for her, as she did not
+usually trouble herself to dress much. Charlotte was attired exactly
+like Olive, and looked very queenly and amiable.
+
+"Olive," said she, as they were waiting for the carriage to convey them
+to Mrs. Dimsden's, "how should you like all this fuss, if you were
+going to be married yourself?"
+
+"I am afraid I should think it a very great bore," answered her cousin.
+
+"To be obliged to fix one's attention on ribbons, and lace, and
+petticoats, at such a time, when all one's thoughts should be
+concentrated upon better things," continued Charlotte, "to be obliged
+to listen to flat compliments and foolish speeches at such a time, I
+think it would be dreadfully tiresome."
+
+"People feel very differently about such things," observed Olive.
+"A wedding always seems to me among the most solemn of religious
+ceremonies, and a gay party seems about as appropriate on such an
+occasion, as it would at a christening or a confirmation. It is taking
+so much upon one's self. It makes such an entire change in all one's
+circumstances and duties—such a responsibility."
+
+"I almost wonder you have the courage to attempt it, Olive. You have
+such high ideas upon the subject. Do you think you will ever be able to
+live up to your own notions of the duties of a wife?"
+
+"Probably not, as I never yet lived up to my own standard of duty in
+any thing. But I shall do my best, and I hope I shall not be left to
+myself. Then Walter and I agree perfectly in all important matters,
+which will be a great help."
+
+"I have no doubt you will get on nicely," said Charlotte. "You are the
+only pair of lovers I ever saw who seemed to me to be in the faintest
+degree rational, or in fact endurable. I used to think people in that
+condition must act like fools, as a matter of course."
+
+"Carriage waiting, young ladies," announced the Black Prince, himself
+"en grande tenue," as expecting to bear a conspicuous part.
+
+Wrappers and hoods were donned, under the direction of Mammy, who gave
+a last touch to the drapery, and a last charge to her young ladies not
+to get cold as they came out of church.
+
+They found Laura ready dressed, and looking very splendidly in her
+white "moire antique" and beautiful veil. Pearls, gloves, bouquet,
+wreath, were all in the finest taste. Mrs. Dimsden, in a splendid satin
+dress and a wonderful cap, was walking round and round her, adding a
+touch here, and a pin there, now adjusting a fold of her veil, and then
+giving a pull to the skirt.
+
+Mr. Witherington was grave, and apparently a little embarrassed.
+Olive thought he felt himself rather oppressed by the weight of his
+aunt-in-law. He certainly did not look as if he enjoyed the bustle very
+much, though he brightened up wonderfully when his beautiful bride
+appeared, and looked very happy.
+
+Laura's feelings did not at all interfere with her self-possession.
+She very evidently thought more of her dress than of any thing else.
+She showed no sign of timidity when they found the church crowded with
+people, and the street outside filled with gazers, and was not half as
+much embarrassed as Mr. Witherington. His voice trembled very much in
+making the responses, but she was as cool as though going through an
+ordinary school recitation.
+
+Every one said so beautiful a bride had never been seen in the church
+before. Mr. Merton gave her away, Olive held the glove, and every thing
+passed off well.
+
+There were three quarters of an hour to spare before the company began
+to arrive, and Mr. Witherington seemed as if he would gladly have had
+his wife to himself for a few minutes, but he was made to understand
+that it was quite out of the question. Laura must have some changes
+made in her dress, and she must give her opinion with regard to the
+table and the refreshment-room. Mr. Witherington felt himself decidedly
+in the way, but comforted himself with the idea that it would soon be
+over, and then he could enjoy his dear Laura's society in peace. He had
+yet to learn that his dear Laura was in her element amidst such scenes,
+and found a quiet day at home the most stupid thing possible.
+
+The presents were all ticketed, as Charlotte had said, and arranged
+on the table so as to show to the best advantage, Abby's handkerchief
+occupying a conspicuous place among the more splendid gifts. The
+circle was duly formed, and every thing arranged for the grand parade,
+before the first carriage, rattling to the door, announced the first
+installment of the dear two hundred friends to whom Mrs. Dimsden had
+sent cards.
+
+Olive found the whole thing desperately stupid. It was very tiresome to
+stand two hours in a graceful attitude, and reply to the inane speeches
+addressed to her by the young gentlemen who came to pay their respects
+to Mr. Witherington. She felt vexed at Laura for her evident enjoyment
+of the affair—vexed at Mrs. Dimsden for her parade of the presents
+and dresses, and so forth, sorry for Mr. Witherington, who looked
+uncomfortable and out of place, and provoked at herself for feeling
+like crying all the time.
+
+Mrs. Merton shone superior, doing the gracious to all the rather out
+of the way people, being in every place where she was most wanted, and
+making every one say, "What a splendid woman Mrs. Charles Merton is!"
+And many people added—"So different from Mrs. Dimsden!"
+
+The supper was very splendid, the Black Prince in his glory—a glory of
+manners and dress, of gloves and white favors. He had a brother, second
+only to himself in splendor, who was always under Edward's orders upon
+such occasions.
+
+Mrs. Dimsden was rather nervous at first, but Mrs. Merton whispered,
+"Don't be disturbed, my dear Alicia! Leave every thing to Edward and
+Mammy—I always do."
+
+"My dear Alicia!" Mrs. Dimsden felt two inches taller, and was quite
+happy for the remainder of the evening. Every thing was of the best.
+The brilliant pyramids stood up straight. The ice-cream doves, and
+nymphs, and temples, kept their shape, and the oysters and salads were
+perfect.
+
+Major Trimble expressed to divers and sundry people the original
+opinion that Mrs. Dimsden was quite a "Palladium" of a housekeeper, and
+that Mrs. Witherington was quite dazzling, but added confidentially his
+opinion that it was a pity she should be sacrificed to such a dull old
+sort of a man as Mr. Witherington seemed to be.
+
+Well—it was all over at last. The guests departed, the bridesmaids
+returned home, and sat down by the fire to rest and talk the matter
+over.
+
+"Was not Laura magnificent?" was the first exclamation, but "How
+uncomfortable poor Mr. Witherington looked!" the next.
+
+"He seemed to feel himself so much out of place," said Olive, "but I do
+not think any the worse of him for it."
+
+"Nor I," replied Mrs. Merton. "I think he looked thoughtful and
+earnest, as a man should on his wedding-day. I hope, Olive," she
+continued, as she unclasped her bracelets and pulled off her gloves,
+"that you have no desire to have a grand wedding. A wedding-party two
+or three weeks afterward is not so bad, but really, people ought to
+want to be by themselves at such times."
+
+Olive raised her hands in horror.
+
+"I think I see myself," she said, "paraded out for three mortal hours,
+to be looked at and criticised by every one that chose to look at me,
+and go home and talk about me afterward. But, after all, every thing
+passed off nicely—did it not? And how well aunt Dimsden looked—only
+aunt Rebecca eclipsed her."
+
+"Did I?" said Mrs. Merton. "I am very sorry for that. I dressed more
+than usual, thinking Alicia would like it."
+
+"And so she did," said Charlotte, "especially when you called her dear
+Alicia. I was afraid she would spoil it all by being fussy. How well
+the Black Prince appeared! I think, mother, it would be a grand thing
+for Edward and George to let themselves out, to do manners at the
+expensive people's parties. Just think what an advantage it would be to
+them!"
+
+"Hush!" said Olive. "And don't be scandalizing your neighbors. Well,
+it has all gone off nicely, and aunt Dimsden has gained her point
+with Laura, as with all the rest, and given her a rich husband and a
+splendid wedding."
+
+"I wonder who she will take in hand next," said Mrs. Merton. "After
+all, my dears, it is much better to pass over Mrs. Dimsden's weak
+points, and dwell upon her good ones. She has been very kind to Laura,
+and has acted for the best, according to her ideas. And now I must
+insist upon your going to bed at once. We shall have plenty of calls
+to-morrow, and I want you to look your best. You need not laugh,
+Olive. It is no reason that because you are engaged, you should not
+do yourself credit. Your lover will not think the less of you because
+other people admire you."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER SIXTEENTH.
+
+POOR Abby! The girls had guessed rightly in thinking that she was very
+home-sick, and very much depressed. She did not grow strong, as she had
+hoped to do, and was able to go out but little. Her baby was a great
+care—enough to have used up all her strength, if she had had nothing
+else to do. And to crown her grievances, she lost Katy just as her
+services began to be very valuable.
+
+Katy was very sorry, indeed, to leave, but she could not go on from
+month to month without having any wages. She did not like to speak to
+Mrs. Forester, who was so delicate and so good to her, and so one day,
+when the lady was out, she broached the matter to the gentleman, of
+whom, notwithstanding his grand air, she was not half so much afraid
+as of his wife. He treated the matter negligently enough at first,
+assuring her, in a careless way, that she should be paid by and by.
+Katy grew bolder and insisted that she could not live without clothes.
+Whereupon, Mr. Forester waxed angry, and ordered her to leave the house
+at once.
+
+When Mrs. Forester came home from a shopping excursion, wearied almost
+to death, she was struck with consternation to find Katy packing up her
+goods and crying bitterly, and to hear that Mr. Forester had told her
+to go straight off, and never come near the house again. Abby could
+have cried herself upon the spot, but painful experience had taught
+her to restrain her tears. She felt what an ungrateful return it was
+for all Katy's faithful and unrewarded services, and looked forward
+with dread to the amount of work that would be thrown upon her hands,
+already so burdened. She would have tried to soothe Katy—to prevail
+upon her to stay, at least till some one could be found to supply her
+place, but William, who overheard her, put a stop to her endeavors, in
+a way which he considered very magnificent.
+
+"I have desired Katy to go at once! She has been very insolent to me,
+and I will have no one under my roof who does not treat me with proper
+respect."
+
+"I want my wages!" said Katy, changing her tone at once from the
+tearful to the defiant, as the gentleman appeared upon the scene. "You
+owe me thirty-five dollars, and I want it before I leave the house."
+
+"I should like to see you get it," replied Mr. Forester, turning away.
+"If you had asked me properly, I would have given it to you at once.
+But now you shall wait my pleasure."
+
+"You call yourself a gentleman—do you?" began Katy, her blood
+thoroughly up.
+
+But he had disappeared, and Abby said, almost imploringly:
+
+"Hush! Hush, Katy! I am sure you would not say any thing to grieve
+me. You shall be paid, I promise you." And she took out her purse,
+containing the remainder of her uncle's gift, which she had been saving
+against any emergency. She had only twenty dollars.
+
+"There is all I have at present, but you shall have the rest, I promise
+you."
+
+Katy melted into tears once more. "Indeed, Mrs. Forester, I would not
+have said any thing, but I am clean out of clothes, and I must pay my
+little brother's board, you know. Any way, I shall always think well of
+you and the dear baby."
+
+Mr. Forester thought, for a while, he had done a grand thing, and shown
+a great deal of firmness and decision. But he began to be not quite
+so sure of it, when he saw how hard it was for Abby to prepare tea
+and wash up the dishes, and how tired she seemed after it. He fully
+intended to get up the next morning and make up the fires, but baby was
+restless, and kept them both awake, and when he first roused himself,
+he really was too sleepy to get up. A cry from the little one at last
+roused him to the consciousness that Abby was down-stairs. And when he
+descended, he found breakfast nearly ready.
+
+In reply to his remonstrances, his wife only pointed to the clock,
+which was fast approaching to eight, the hour when it was absolutely
+necessary for him to be at the office.
+
+Mr. Forester was very sorry, and a little vexed. He swallowed his
+breakfast, not without a remark that the cakes were not as light as
+usual, and was hunting for his hat and gloves, when Abby said: "Can't
+you bring in some wood before you go? It is so hard to carry it up the
+steps."
+
+"I really don't see how I can, my love. Mr. Hitchcock is so very
+particular about my being there just to the minute. I will send you up
+a boy as I go along."
+
+The boy did not come, however, and Abby had every thing to do herself.
+Hard work it was to get the breakfast things out of the way, wash and
+dress little Emma, and prepare the dinner before one o'clock, and,
+after all, William did not come home till a late tea-time.
+
+"I had an invitation to dine at the Irving, and I thought it would save
+you some trouble," was his excuse.
+
+"It might have done if I had known it beforehand," said Abby. "As it
+was, it did not make much difference."
+
+"Come, come, my love, don't be cross. You know I have to work hard all
+day, and when I come home, I like to shake off my annoyances, and have
+a cheerful, smiling face to meet me. There is a letter for you."
+
+Abby took it eagerly, and the color flushed to her pale face more
+brightly than usual, as she looked it over.
+
+"It is from Laura," she said. "She wants me to come out to the wedding.
+Oh! How I do wish I could go. I would give any thing to see M. again."
+
+Mr. Forester looked rather blank. "I suppose they do not include me in
+the invitation."
+
+"Of course they do. Laura would know better than to leave you out, if
+she wanted me. But don't you think I might manage it some how? I do
+want to go so much."
+
+"I do not see how," replied William, rather peevishly. "What would
+become of the house in the mean time?"
+
+"We might shut it up that long."
+
+"And then, what is to become of me, for I assure you it is utterly out
+of the question for me to dream of going, even if I wanted to. I put up
+with Mrs. Merton here for your sake, but it is quite too much to think
+of my going there."
+
+"Could you not manage for a few days?" faltered Abby, her heart
+sinking, yet unwilling to give up at once the pleasure of being present
+at her sister's wedding. "I need not go till Wednesday, and I could get
+the new girl into tolerable training by that time."
+
+"Oh! Yes—if you are set upon going, I suppose I can manage to exist,
+though—but, of course, that is no matter. But there is another thing
+that does matter, and that is—how are you going to get the money
+necessary to such an expedition?"
+
+"I don't know about that; it will not cost a great deal."
+
+"Have you any of your reserved fund left?"
+
+"Only two or three dollars. I had to take it to pay Katy with."
+
+"So you paid Katy, did you?" said Mr. Forester, laying down his paper,
+and looking at his wife. "I thought you heard me tell her that I would
+pay her at my leisure."
+
+"They are so poor," faltered Abby, "and Katy has been so faithful."
+
+"Upon my word, Mrs. Forester, this is rather too much! I have borne
+with your humors and whims a long time, on account of your health, and
+endeavored to bring you to reason by gentleness, and when I came home
+to-night, wearied out with business, and expecting to find, as I had a
+right, a pleasant home and a cheerful wife to receive and welcome me, I
+was not disposed to find any fault, though things were the very reverse
+of this. But for you to set me at defiance in this way is rather too
+much. I said I would pay that insolent servant at my leisure, and you
+fly in the face of my authority, and pay her yourself, contrary to my
+express orders, and then expect me to supply you with money for an
+expensive journey. As to your going, I say nothing about that. You can
+go if can supply the means, and I will exist as I can till you come
+back. But I beg you to understand, once for all, that I will be master
+in my own house."
+
+Abby sat like a statue through the whole of this reasonable harangue.
+She did not even lift her eyes when her husband rose to leave her,
+but as he opened the door, she gasped out—"Don't—don't go," and knew
+no more till she found herself lying upon the sofa, with a neighbor
+attending upon her, while her husband was walking distractedly up and
+down the room, getting in the way of every thing that was done for her
+relief. She tried to speak, but Mrs. Gray checked her.
+
+"Now, don't you speak one word, Mrs. Forester, but just lie still, and
+I'll attend to every thing. Don't you think you had better see the
+doctor?"
+
+"Oh! No!" whispered Abby, thinking with terror of the already long
+bill. "It's nothing but a little fatigue. Katy went away yesterday, and
+I have rather over-worked myself to-day. I shall be better presently."
+
+Mr. Forester felt a pang go to his selfish heart, as he heard his
+suffering wife thus trying to divert the blame from himself.
+
+"Come, Abby, cheer up, my dear," he said, approaching her. "You will
+know better than to work so hard next time, and your new girl has come."
+
+Then as Mrs. Gray left the room, he added: "I am sorry you took
+my words so much to heart, but you must learn to control yourself
+a little. You are very much of a child, and need a great deal
+of guidance. But how are you ever to improve, if you go into a
+fainting-fit every time that any one intimates you are in the wrong?"
+
+Abby put up her hands imploringly, but having once begun to be
+dignified, Mr. Forester felt like carrying it through. He kissed her
+rather coolly, and then added, by way of finishing the business:
+
+"There, there, I forgive you, and will try to forget it, but you must
+remember that the continuance of my love depends upon your conduct, and
+not upon my own will. I hope we shall have no more such scenes as this
+of to-night, for it is very unpleasant for me to be obliged to reprove
+you, and I can not in conscience allow such things to pass unnoticed."
+
+With this magnificent declaration, Mr. Forester dropped the subject,
+and sat down to read to his wife, by way of showing his magnanimity,
+a book which she did not care a straw for, and did not understand. He
+really felt very much injured, and thought he had conferred a great
+favor upon his erring wife by not giving way to her ill-temper.
+
+And poor Abby tried to think she had been very wrong and selfish in
+wishing to leave her husband alone, to go to her sister's wedding, and
+that he had shown a great deal of forbearance toward her faults. For
+paying Katy she could not be sorry. But in spite of herself a verse
+from the last chapter she had read would keep running through her head:
+"Ye shall be ashamed for the oats that ye have desired, and confounded
+for the gardens that ye have chosen."
+
+Kind Mrs. Gray came over the next morning, early enough to prevent her
+from getting up till after breakfast. It was she who directed the new
+girl, put the parlor in order, and dressed the baby. She was a plain
+woman, but very kindly and very sensible, and during the whole week,
+while Abby remained unwell, she was the greatest possible assistance
+and comfort to her.
+
+Mr. Forester grumbled a little at finding that "meddling woman always
+there," but he was very civil to her, nevertheless. As the time went
+on, he began to have a lurking, unacknowledged suspicion, that he had
+not been so very magnificent after all—that it was he who had been
+borne with, and not Abby. As he looked at her slight figure and almost
+transparent hands, and noticed how her color flushed and faded, and how
+fast her breath went and came under any little excitement, an undefined
+feeling of fear came over him, that made him very kind, and somewhat
+checked his propensities to self-indulgence.
+
+We say somewhat, for when a man has grown up from infancy with the idea
+that because he is talented, and does not like to work, all the rest of
+the world is bound to wait upon, work for, and give up to him, nothing
+but an absolutely crushing blow will drive it out of him. Sometimes
+stroke upon stroke, mortification upon mortification, defeat upon
+defeat, makes him know himself to be but man, and brings him to the
+feet of God in repentance and self-abasement, and then there is hope.
+But quite as often such persons go down to their graves with the idea
+that they are martyrs to their own superiority, and that all the world
+is leagued against them.
+
+The new girl turned out better than Abby had feared. True she did not
+and could not fill Katy's place. That was not to be expected, at the
+wages she received. But she was neat, good-natured, very strong, and
+able to do all the drudgery of the little household. She was fond of
+the baby, and took her off Abby's hands for several hours in the day,
+leaving her at liberty to sew, and sometimes to practise a little. Abby
+had for some time had an idea of taking pupils in music, almost the
+only thing she felt herself really competent to teach, and after some
+little hesitation she proposed the plan to her husband.
+
+Mr. Forester laughed at first, then doubted whether it would be best,
+and then consented, on condition that they should come to the house
+while he was away, as he never could endure the noise of beginners
+practising. "I don't see how you can endure the thought of it. But I
+dare say you are lonely when I am gone. You have no taste for art, and
+not much for general literature, and it is natural you should like some
+amusement."
+
+Thus graciously did Mr. Forester grant to his wife permission to
+spend some portion of her small remaining strength in laboring for
+his support. But his manner was kind and affectionate, and Abby was
+satisfied. The next point was to obtain pupils, and here she was
+successful beyond her hopes. Good Mrs. Gray interested herself in the
+matter, and soon procured for her six little girls, all beginners. Thus
+twelve times a week did Abby, with her exquisite ear and high musical
+culture, labor through the never-ending, still beginning scales and
+exercises. But she fixed her mind resolutely upon the twelve dollars a
+piece which was to be the reward of her labors and perseverance.
+
+By and by two young ladies wishing to learn singing were added to
+the number. They were nice girls, and frequently brought presents of
+flowers and fruit to their gentle little mistress. But sometimes, when
+Abby found herself gasping for breath, and almost unable to articulate,
+after their lessons, she felt a vague misgiving that she was purchasing
+the additional thirty dollars of income pretty dearly. The little
+girls, however, progressed nobly, their parents were satisfied, as well
+they might be at getting for twelve dollars what ought to have cost
+them sixteen.
+
+Baby was very good, and beginning to be playful and amusing. And upon
+the whole, Abby was rather happy than otherwise. She said nothing in
+her letters home of her being engaged in teaching, but merely offered
+as an excuse for not writing oftener that her time was very much
+occupied.
+
+Laura had intended to make her a visit on her return from her
+bridal-tour, but Mr. Witherington's business called him unexpectedly,
+and she was obliged to give it up, writing a very kind and earnest
+invitation for Abby to come and visit them. Abby was glad of the
+letter, though she knew very well she should never be able to go. But
+she was pleased to think that in the midst of all the bridal gayety of
+her new home, Laura had remembered and cared for her, and she prayed
+earnestly that her sister might be happy.
+
+For in the midst of all her troubles, Abby had found this great
+comfort—she had learned to pray. She had been in a manner religiously
+brought up, and had always said her prayers, night and morning, ever
+since she could remember. But it was only in the dreary time before
+little Emma was born that she had learned to know the full meaning of
+the words "communion with God." Then she had really drawn near the
+throne—she had sat down in the shadow of that great rock, and the weary
+land became not quite so weary. Water out of the pure river of life had
+satisfied her thirst, and in her saddest hours, she found comfort in
+the thought that we have not a High-Priest who can not be touched with
+the feelings of our infirmities, but who, in that He suffered being
+tempted, is able to succor them that are tempted.
+
+When she could have Bridget to take care of Emma, Sunday morning or
+evening was a time of refreshing from the presence of the Lord. The
+word of God was as rain upon the mown grass to her, and she brought
+home a supply of strength for a long time, from every communion season.
+Mr. Forester could not understand it. He thought the singing far from
+good, the preaching dry, and the church very bare and barn-like, but
+he saw that Abby enjoyed it, and he felt that there was something
+essentially beautiful in the idea of a young mother's being religious,
+and even went so far as to go himself sometimes. Moreover, he made a
+sketch of Abby herself kneeling before a statue of the Virgin, and
+teaching her child to clasp its little hands in the attitude of prayer,
+which was very much admired in the shop where it was sent to be framed.
+
+For a time he had gone on very well in the employment which Mr.
+Merton had procured for him. The work was not hard, and part of it
+was of a kind in which he might be supposed to take some pleasure,
+namely, the drawing of designs for ornamental iron work. But after a
+time, it became very irksome to him. His employers desired that his
+designs should be such as they could make a profit on, and insisted
+on his altering some of his favorite pictures, for the frivolous and
+insufficient reason that it was quite impossible to carry them out in
+practice.
+
+Moreover, they made it a point that he should be upon the spot in
+business hours, and that his designs should be ready when they
+were wanted, not being disposed to make much allowance for the
+eccentricities of genius. More than once they had been on the very
+verge of a rupture, but Mr. Hitchcock, the managing partner, had seen
+Abby, and was much interested in her. And for her sake, he exercised
+more patience toward Mr. Forester than he had ever been known to
+exhibit before.
+
+But one day matters came suddenly to a crisis. An important design
+which Mr. Forester had undertaken to finish for a particular day, was
+not forthcoming, and the workmen were at a stand for want of it. Mr.
+Forester had not come in, and Mr. Hitchcock began a search for the
+missing pattern among the heaps of paper which covered his desk. In the
+course of which, he came across quantities of fancy sketches, mostly
+unfinished, among which was the first rude draught of Abby's portrait,
+quantities of verses and translations, also mostly unfinished, bits
+of crayon and pencil innumerable, but no pattern. He had not quite
+finished his search, when Mr. Forester made his appearance, and upon
+being questioned, frankly confessed that the design was not finished,
+or even begun. He had not felt in the humor for the last two or three
+days, and was trying to refresh his mind a little.
+
+Mr. Hitchcock was very angry. Not only was a large pecuniary
+consideration at stake, but what he valued still more, the honor of
+the firm, which had always held the highest reputation for punctuality
+in the fulfillment of contracts. In a few words, chosen more for
+their strength than their elegance, he set before Mr. Forester the
+consequences of his remissness, not only to the firm, but to himself,
+delivered a short lecture upon idleness, and finished by saying that
+in his opinion Mr. Forester would be doing much more for his wife and
+child in working for them than in making pictures of them in such
+heathenish attitudes as that—holding up the unfinished picture as he
+spoke, and glancing from it to the artist with stern contempt.
+
+Mr. Forester waited to hear no more.
+
+He put on his hat, collected his papers and drawing materials, made a
+low bow, and walked out of the shop without a word.
+
+Abby was engaged with one of her little pupils when her husband
+entered, and throwing all he carried upon the table, gave audible vent
+to his feelings in such an exclamation as she had never heard from him
+before.
+
+Luckily the lesson was nearly over. Abby hurried it through, and having
+dismissed the child, looked to her husband for an explanation, which
+was not long delayed.
+
+"It serves me right!" William exclaimed indignantly, as he strode
+up and down the room. "What business had I to prostitute my talents
+to such base uses—to make my genius a slave to a man who does not
+even speak his mother tongue correctly? What right had I to make art
+subservient to a vile machinist, a man without one elevated idea, a—"
+
+"But do tell me what it is," Abby ventured to interrupt. "Have you lost
+your situation?"
+
+"I have given up my situation, if that is what you mean." And then
+followed an excited and somewhat incoherent account of the transaction,
+giving Abby to understand that he had been insulted beyond endurance
+by his tyrannical employer, because he would not do something very
+degrading, though what that something was did not clearly appear.
+
+Abby comforted, and sympathized, and agreed as far as possible, not
+knowing any thing about the matter, till her husband felt more like a
+martyr than ever. At the same time, her heart sank when she thought how
+soon their rent was due, and wondered how it was to be obtained. The
+next quarter's salary would have paid it, and now it must be paid, if
+at all, out of the proceeds of her music lessons, upon which she had
+depended for family expenses.
+
+"I think," she said, pondering, "that I had better take two or three
+new pupils in singing. I get more for that than for the piano, and Miss
+Emsley told me she knew two at least who would like to begin. That will
+be thirty dollars more."
+
+"That is so like you, Abby—always thinking about the money, and where
+it is to come from. You would not have had me remain with a man who had
+insulted me, would you?"
+
+"Of course not, if he really meant to insult you. But you know he is a
+hasty man, and sometimes says more than he means. Perhaps he will come
+round."
+
+As if to justify Abby's prediction, the evening brought a note from Mr.
+Hitchcock, containing all that was due of Mr. Forester's salary, and
+intimating that if Mr. Forester was willing to endeavor to do better,
+he, Mr. Hitchcock, was willing to give him another trial.
+
+Mr. Forester pocketed the money, twisted up the note, and tossed it to
+the baby to play with.
+
+"There is no answer," he said to the messenger, who still lingered.
+
+"Please to sign the receipt that Mr. Hitchcock sent at the bottom of
+the note, sir."
+
+Abby rescued the paper from the clutches of baby, and smoothing it out,
+handed it to her husband, saying in a low voice, "Had you not better
+take time to consider?"
+
+An impatient "No, child, of course not," was all the answer vouchsafed
+to her. The receipt was signed and the messenger departed.
+
+
+For several days, Mr. Forester had nothing better to do than to lie
+on the sofa, read German novels, play with and tease the baby, and
+criticise the playing of the little girls, much to their indignation
+and his wife's annoyance.
+
+"I have something to say to you, if you have leisure to hear it," she
+said one day, after dinner. "You know our lease will not be out till
+next winter."
+
+"Well, what of that?"
+
+"Mrs. Gray knows of a family—two middle-aged people and their daughter,
+who would be glad to take the lower part of the house, with most of the
+furniture. Don't you think it would be cheaper than to live as we are?
+Then I could have my pupils here still, and get on with a little girl
+from the asylum to take care of Emma."
+
+"Do you suppose we could live in any degree comfortably so?"
+
+"Oh! Yes! Mrs. Gray says they are very decent, respectable people,
+though plain. Then you see the house would support us, instead of being
+an expense. We could take the front-room up-stairs, with the little
+room adjoining, for ourselves, and the girl could sleep in the attic
+very well."
+
+"And I should not have any more marketing to do. I declare, my
+love, I really admire your practical turn of mind. It seems a grand
+arrangement. But when can it be carried into effect?"
+
+"Next week, if you approve."
+
+"Oh! By all means!" replied Mr. Forester. "I have got to go down to
+Boston, but I suppose you can do about as well without me as with me. I
+am not much assistance upon such occasions."
+
+"I know that very well," said Abby, not without a slight tinge of
+bitterness in her tone. "But what takes you to Boston?"
+
+"I must try to find something to do, which there seems little
+likelihood of my discovering here."
+
+"But if there is a prospect of our going away, it would not be worth
+while to make the change, would it?"
+
+"There is no very great prospect. It is merely a bare chance, but the
+journey will do me good, at any rate. And among my father's friends
+there, something may turn up. I have money enough to go, and if you are
+not housekeeping, you will not need any great amount."
+
+So Mr. Forester set out for Boston the next day, leaving his wife to
+make all the arrangements for moving. It was the latter end of April,
+and the weather was very trying. She took a little cold which settled
+upon her lungs, and prevented her from singing for a while. And even
+when the hoarseness passed off, her lungs remained sore.
+
+Notwithstanding this, she took four new pupils in singing, who offered
+themselves, (for her music began to be talked of as something out
+of the common) and tried to think it a matter of no importance when
+she found that every lesson left her with a pain in her chest, and a
+feeling of exhaustion, which prevented her from uttering an unnecessary
+word for hours afterward.
+
+William did not return as soon as she expected, but he wrote the
+most entertaining and affectionate letters imaginable. At last, an
+old acquaintance of his father's found him occupation in working out
+sketches, and drawing designs on stone, intended to illustrate an
+extensive scientific work about to be published. He wrote to Abby
+that the job would occupy about three months—perhaps not as long, and
+that it would be necessary for him to remain where he was. But as the
+time was so short, and the business probably not a permanent one, he
+thought, if she found herself comfortable, she had better remain where
+she was.
+
+And Abby thought so too, and toiled patiently, morning after morning,
+through the dull round of lessons, feeling quite happy if she received
+a letter at night from her talented husband, who seemed to be enjoying
+himself very much. Sometimes, looking back on her past life, she
+wondered if it had not been all a dream, that she had been her uncle's
+pet and her aunt's pride, envied by all around her, and knowing no
+more of care than her own Canary. It seemed so very long ago that
+she and Olive had been school-girls together, their greatest anxiety
+centred on gaining a prize, their greatest anxiety keeping Charlotte
+in a good humor, or begging some of the little ones off from a merited
+punishment. But she never allowed herself to repine or be fretful, and
+a love-letter from her husband, or a smile or caress from her beautiful
+baby repaid her for all. Verily that love which passes the love of
+woman must be wonderful indeed.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER SEVENTEENTH.
+
+BASSWOODS gave Olive a rather more cordial reception than usual when
+she returned. In fact, Mrs. Merton's visit had done her a great deal of
+good. People are very apt to set a greater value on what they perceive
+to be prized by others, and the good people of Basswoods suddenly
+thought much more of Miss McHenry, on discovering that she had an uncle
+and aunt who were such very superior people, and who were evidently so
+much attached to her.
+
+The school filled up at once, and even with Isabella Lambert's
+assistance, Olive found her hands very full. Isabella's talents were of
+a higher order than her sister's, and she had studied more, and Olive
+found her a valuable coadjutor, as well as a pleasant companion.
+
+Melissa Tucker, having finished her education, had returned to her
+aunt's house, improved in nothing, but on the contrary more malicious,
+more conceited, and more fond of tattling than ever. Her aunt, however,
+thought her nothing short of perfection, and paraded her sayings
+and doings upon all occasions. No sooner did Melissa find herself
+comfortably settled at home than she began to look about for something
+whereon to exercise her talents, and she soon came to the conclusion
+that she could not be better employed than in making mischief between
+Miss McHenry and her friends.
+
+She knew better than to address herself to Olive, whom she felt
+understood her perfectly, so she began her attack by calling upon Mrs.
+Prendergrass and Isabella, professing great regret that there had been
+any misunderstanding, and a desire to be friends, an advance that
+was cordially met by the two girls, who had always disliked the idea
+of a quarrel. Once established there, she began by wary insinuations
+of "patronage," "intermeddling," etc., to try to poison their minds
+against Olive. If she had been open in her abuse, they would have met
+her at once. But her covert attacks were not so easily warded off; and
+they began to have their effect, especially upon Isabella. She was, at
+first, not quite so successful with Maria, who cared nothing at all
+about being patronized, and knew that Olive did not meddle. So she
+changed her points of attack.
+
+"Cousin Maria," she said one day, in her softest accents, "don't you
+think Mr. Prendergrass thinks a great deal of Miss McHenry?"
+
+"So we all do," was the brief reply.
+
+"Of course. It is natural you should, perhaps; especially after what
+happened before you were married, you know."
+
+"I don't know what you mean, Melissa. What happened before we were
+married?" asked Maria, her curiosity a little excited.
+
+"Why, don't you know? Oh! I am sorry I said any thing, but I supposed
+you knew all about it. It was so commonly talked of in the village. But
+if I had had any idea that you did not know it, I would not have spoken
+for the world."
+
+"I can not conceive what you refer to," said Maria, seriously annoyed.
+
+"Why, only that Mr. Prendergrass was so much attached to Miss McHenry.
+It was in every one's mouth, but nobody blamed him, for of course they
+all knew that she drew him on. It was about the same time that she was
+spreading her nets for Mr. Landon, and I really don't suppose she meant
+any thing worse than to amuse herself, and perhaps have another string
+to her bow, in case one failed. But it was well-known that he offered
+himself to her, and that she refused him more than once. I am sorry
+I told you, but it was so generally talked of, that I supposed, of
+course, you would have known it."
+
+And, having fulfilled her mission, Miss Tucker departed, congratulating
+herself on the idea that she had at last succeeded in sowing dissension
+between Miss McHenry and her most devoted adherents. She had never
+forgiven or forgotten her first rebuff in attempting to carry tales
+to Miss McHenry in school, and moreover, she felt a mean jealousy of
+Olive's popularity, being one of those amiable persons who think every
+consideration bestowed upon another just so much taken from themselves.
+
+As it turned out, she was completely baffled, and that not by any
+ingenuity upon Olive's part, but by simple plain dealing. She soon
+perceived, that something was the matter—that Isabella's manner toward
+her grew haughty and distant, and that any little favor was received
+most ungraciously, if at all; while at Maria's house, which she had
+always looked upon as a second home, she met a reception so cold as
+almost to amount to an insult. She took no notice of it at first,
+thinking it but a passing cloud, but the change soon became too much
+marked not to force itself upon her attention, and she determined to
+investigate the matter.
+
+Accordingly, one evening, after tea, she called at Maria's, accompanied
+by Augusta, and received any thing but a welcome, while a most cordial
+greeting was bestowed upon her companion. Mr. Prendergrass indeed was
+the same as ever, and his cordial manners gave Olive more courage to
+proceed.
+
+"Maria," she said, after a few moments of indifferent conversation, "I
+have not come without an errand, as you may imagine after the reception
+you gave me the last time I was here, but I am determined, if possible,
+to be at the bottom of this business. It is evident that both you and
+Isabella think you have some good reason to be offended with me, and I
+think, in all Christian kindness, you are bound to tell me what it is."
+
+Olive spoke kindly but decidedly.
+
+Isabella flushed up to her temples, and Maria seemed just ready to cry,
+while Mr. Prendergrass laid down his book, and stared first at one, and
+then at another, in undisguised amazement.
+
+Maria at last murmured something about "not being aware—"
+
+"That is simply impossible, Maria. Both you and Isabella must be aware
+that you have treated me very differently for three weeks past, from
+what you have done before. I think I have a right to demand the cause
+of offense that I may make amends if I have been wrong, and take
+measures to justify myself if I have been slandered. I have aimed to
+treat you as a sister," she continued, her voice faltering a little,
+"from the first time that you came to me, and I have done the same by
+Isabella, but it is possible, that by some inadvertence, I may have
+wounded you. If so, I am very sorry."
+
+Mr. Prendergrass here interrupted her. "Miss McHenry, I can not
+conceive it possible, ma'am, that any of my household can have treated
+you with disrespect, so much attached to you as we all are. If so, I
+shall insist upon an immediate apology."
+
+"It is not an apology that I want, Mr. Prendergrass," replied Olive.
+"I presume Maria thinks I have injured her in some way, and I am only
+anxious to get at the truth. I suspect some one has been telling
+stories about me, and—"
+
+The look that passed between the sisters convinced her at once that she
+was right, and she went on with fresh courage.
+
+"If this is so, I hope you will tell me at once both the name of the
+storyteller and the substance of the story."
+
+"I am sure I never thought of such a thing," said Maria, beginning to
+sob, "till I was told that—that—"
+
+"Well—that what?" said Olive encouragingly.
+
+"That you—that Mr. Prendergrass had—had—"
+
+A sudden light burst upon Olive's mind, and she exclaimed: "You little
+goose! You don't mean to say any one has been trying to make you
+jealous!"
+
+Maria sobbed more than ever.
+
+"I dare say that some obliging person has been telling you that your
+excellent husband was a little taken with me at one time, which was
+very true, and a great compliment I felt it, though, as he will tell
+you, it was one I would rather have dispensed with. But that was long
+before he saw you. When you came, he almost forgot that such a person
+as I ever existed."
+
+"But they say that you encouraged him, and—and—"
+
+"Did I ever encourage you, Mr. Prendergrass?" asked Olive, turning to
+him.
+
+"No, Miss McHenry," he replied. "You never gave me one particle of
+encouragement. I regret very much that my dear wife has been so weak
+as to cherish suspicions injurious, not only to herself and you, but
+to her husband, who has never had a thought separate from her since he
+first knew her."
+
+"You see, my dear Maria, how unfounded your ideas have been—do you not?
+I was engaged to Mr. Landon three months before Mr. Prendergrass ever
+said any thing to me, and I have been engaged to him ever since. Now,
+tell me, did I ever say an unkind word to either of you since I first
+knew you?"
+
+"No," said both the sisters at once.
+
+"Did I ever speak harshly or slightingly of you to any one?"
+
+"You said I was a good sort of a girl, if I were educated," said
+Isabella, half-indignantly, half-laughing.
+
+"I do not see any thing very slanderous in that, even if it were true,"
+observed Olive. "But I do not remember saying so. When was it?"
+
+"At Mrs. Jones's—at the society."
+
+"Augusta, do you remember my saying that Isabella was a good sort of a
+girl, if she were educated?" asked Olive, with due gravity.
+
+"Nothing of the kind," replied Augusta. "I remember Miss Tucker asking
+you if you did not think Miss Lambert would be a pretty girl, if she
+were not so uncultivated. I can not say I have any recollection of your
+making any reply whatever."
+
+"Why, Melissa told me herself that you said so!" exclaimed Isabella,
+unguardedly.
+
+"Oh! Ho! I thought we should get at the bottom of the business before
+long. So Miss Tucker has been having a hand in it. But, Maria, I
+thought you knew the whole family too well to attach any importance to
+their sayings and doings."
+
+"Melissa said you called me a serpent," sobbed Maria, now as much
+ashamed as she had before been angry.
+
+"I assure you, my child, if I had ever thought so, I should acquit you
+now. You have shown conclusively that you have little of the wisdom
+attributed to that animal, or you could not allow yourself to be made
+uncomfortable by the speeches of a professed mischief-maker. But let
+by-gones be by-gones. Is there any more?"
+
+Maria and Isabella could not think of any thing else that amounted
+to aught but vague insinuations, except that Melissa had declared
+that Miss McHenry had told Mr. Gregory, in her hearing, that Mr.
+Prendergrass was a great fool to marry a poor girl, who had her reasons
+for being glad to jump at the chance of having him.
+
+"That is neither more nor less than an unmitigated lie!" said Olive,
+provoked into using a strong word. "I don't see, Maria, how you could
+believe such a story for a moment. I am not much in the habit of using
+such elegant expressions—am I? But we won't say any thing more about
+it," she added. "I see you are convinced that you are wrong, so we will
+let the whole matter drop, and consider it as a joke."
+
+"Don't go!" begged Maria. "Stay and spend the evening with us, if it is
+only to show that you are not angry with us. I am sorry I was so very
+silly, and so is Isabella, I am sure. Pray do stay—won't you?"
+
+Olive laughed, and suffered her bonnet and shawl to be captured, and
+herself to be set down in the most comfortable chair in the room. It
+seemed as if the girls could not do enough to show their penitence
+and good-will, while she, on her part, set herself to obliterate any
+uncomfortable impression that might have been left upon their minds.
+They were in the midst of a great frolic over a game of "twenty
+questions," Mr. Prendergrass replying with a caution which would have
+been becoming to a diplomatist, to the severe examination of the
+ladies, when the door opened, and in walked Miss Melissa herself.
+
+She looked both startled and puzzled at the scene which greeted her
+eyes, but in a moment recovered herself, and came forward with her
+usual caressing manner. Miss McHenry and Mrs. Tower greeted her with
+great politeness—the latter especially was remarkably gracious. Maria
+and her sister looked provoked and uneasy, and Mr. Prendergrass was
+as immovable as Mont Blanc. It was impossible for Miss Tucker not to
+perceive that something was wrong, but she made great efforts to appear
+as usual.
+
+"How pleasant it looks here!" she observed, in her smoothest way. "It
+is really delightful to find you all so sociably engaged."
+
+"You know how to appreciate such things, Miss Tucker," said Augusta, in
+her most silvery tones. "I am really delighted that you came in."
+
+"But I must really call you to account for little mistake you made,"
+added Olive, taking up the ball. "How did you come to tell Miss Lambert
+that I said she would be a good sort if she were only educated, when
+you know very well you yourself asked me if I did think so?"
+
+If a glance could have killed Isabella, she would have fallen dead upon
+the spot, but Miss Tucker did not answer. She did not exactly know what
+to say. Olive went on:
+
+"Moreover, you told Mrs. Prendergrass that I made remarks about
+herself and her husband which you know very well I never did make. I
+do not know how you can reconcile it with your conscience to tell such
+falsehoods, nor does it particularly matter to me. I am sorry, however,
+that you should do it, under the mask of a high religious profession,
+both for your own sake, and for that of the cause. I must tell you that
+if you are leaning for salvation upon any principle which allows you
+to do such things, you are leaning upon a broken reed which will fail
+you in the day of trial. Let me entreat you to examine your own state
+at once and honestly, and repent of the slanders of which you have been
+guilty before it is too late, and you are brought into judgment for
+them. I am not much afraid of your injuring me, but I must tell you
+that unless you stop these covert attacks I shall take some measures to
+defend myself, and these measures may not be very agreeable to you. I
+hope this is all that is necessary for me to say."
+
+Miss Tucker had stood like a statue during this address, and for a
+moment after it was concluded, then recovering herself she said,
+blandly, but with a deep sigh:
+
+"Dear Miss McHenry, I am sorry to see you so angry and for such a
+trifle. I am much obliged to you for your advice, and for your threats
+I am not at all troubled at them. If Maria has been weak enough to
+betray a friend who meant to do her a service, I pity her from the
+bottom of my heart, and regret that her confiding disposition should be
+so abused." And she glanced in an unmistakable way from Olive to the
+gentleman.
+
+"Did you mean to do her confiding disposition a service when you told
+her that Miss McHenry made insinuations against her character to my
+father?" inquired Mrs. Tower. "Permit me to tell you that I shall
+inform him of the way you have used his name in this matter in order
+that he may take such steps as he thinks best."
+
+Miss Tucker heard this with another sigh, as though in pity for such
+deep depravity, but she did not seem inclined to say any more, and
+walked in a dignified manner out of the room. The next thing heard of
+her was that she had gone to spend some time with a school-mate who
+lived at the West, somewhere about Green Bay.
+
+Olive was very glad, for she disliked very much the idea of a
+collision, and feared further mischief. The Lamberts, heartily ashamed
+of being influenced by such a person, were more her friends than ever,
+and Olive took pains to show them by every means in her power that she
+did not cherish any resentment. Isabella improved in usefulness every
+day, and Olive grew more and more attached to her the more she knew her.
+
+
+Olive's Sunday-school class at last began to reward her for the pains
+she had taken. When Mr. Gregory announced an approaching confirmation,
+four of the oldest girls gave in their names at once. Julia stood aloof
+for the time. She seemed very anxious to make a profession of her
+faith, but was afraid she should not always persevere, and that she
+would be the means of bringing discredit upon her profession.
+
+"But Julia," said Olive, "you are not required to persevere always all
+at once. Every duty has its day, and for every day strength will be
+provided according to the need. It is not as if you were dependent on
+yourself, you know, and is it not something like a distrust of God's
+mercy to doubt his giving you that power which he has promised?"
+
+Julia pondered.
+
+"It is such a little time since I began to think about such things.
+Miss McHenry, I used to think I was so much superior to the rest of the
+girls because I did not care for going to church, and religious books
+and such things."
+
+"But you do not feel so now, Julia."
+
+"No indeed! I can not tell you how ashamed and humbled I am when I
+look back at that time. It is more that than any thing else which
+discourages me now, for fear that I should go back and be as proud and
+careless as ever."
+
+"I do not think there is much danger of that, Julia. You could never
+forget that feeling of unworthiness, and of the mercy which brought you
+to the knowledge of it."
+
+"Perhaps not; and yet people do become careless, you know."
+
+"Yes; and they are much more likely to become so if they have nothing
+outward to prevent them. You will have the communion, coming at
+least every month, to make you examine your self, to remind you of
+your Saviour's dying love and mercy, to renew your self-consecration
+to himself and his Church. Will not this be a great help to you in
+maintaining a Christian character?"
+
+Julia thought so, but she still seemed to feel that she was unworthy.
+
+"So are we all, my dear. There never was a communicant yet who was
+worthy of the mercy of God. But if, with all your unworthiness, you
+have not hesitated to accept the salvation of which the communion is
+only the outward and visible sign, why should you be stopped by the
+sign itself?"
+
+Julia thought and considered, and finally made up her mind to take
+the step. She had left school, but still continued to be a frequent
+visitor, and Olive was very fond of her, though she had given her
+more trouble than any other girl in school. But there was something
+about her so truthful and hearty, and so far removed from the aimless
+frivolity that wearied her life out in so many of her other pupils,
+that she was ready to forgive a good deal of willfulness.
+
+If Julia was sometimes conceited, and now and then rebellious, she
+learned her lessons and took an interest in them, and in things which
+illustrated them. She really thought and talked, instead of dreaming
+and chattering. Then she was eminently truthful, and resorted to none
+of the mean artifices which some of the other girls used to conceal
+their faults. She would have scorned to bring in a false excuse for
+being late in the morning, or to lay a plot for getting called out of
+school half an hour before it was over, or pretend a headache or weak
+eyes as an excuse for neglecting a lesson.
+
+With many of Olive's pupils, seriousness upon any subject whatever,
+seemed all but out of the question. Senseless chattering and equally
+senseless giggling seemed their only idea of social intercourse, and
+any attempt to develop or employ their higher faculties only made them
+sullen. Educating these young persons was almost out of the question.
+The only thing that could be done was to drag them perseveringly
+through a course of lessons in hopes that some knowledge would stick
+to them which might afterwards bear fruit. This was hard work enough,
+and thankless enough, but now and then one would come out from her
+companions, and after a while attain to a respectable degree of
+learning, and these few examples encouraged Olive to persevere.
+
+
+Olive's warm friendship with Ruth and Augusta continued and increased,
+and it did them all good. In Mrs. Tower indeed the improvement was not
+so apparent, but in Ruth every one saw it. She was as cheerful and
+useful as ever, but she was much gentler, and did not say nearly so
+many sharp things. Moreover, she was more careful in her manners and
+dress. Her superb hair was put up with some attention to the becoming,
+as well as to the shortest possible time in which it could be put up,
+and her general appearance was much improved.
+
+The Milton and Tennyson war still waged sometimes, but with diminished
+force. Olive had learned to see new beauties in the English classics,
+and Ruth allowed that not many poems were superior to the "Palace of
+Art," and that Dryden never wrote any thing equal to "Œnone." Ruth
+even treated the ingenious Mr. Ruskin with something short of absolute
+contempt, a degree of toleration at which Augusta never expected her to
+arrive. And Augusta, who had a secret leaning to candlesticks, allowed
+that in the present state of the world, it would be better worth while
+to build four churches worth four thousand dollars a piece and leave
+the rest of the money for parish purposes than to erect one edifice
+costing fifty thousand.
+
+They had been studying German together during the last winter, Olive
+acting as teacher, and they found a new source of pleasure as they
+learned to read it with some degree of facility. Together they admired
+and pitied Egmont, and heartily detested Wilhelm Meister, and set
+critics at defiance by alternately ridiculing and railing at Faust.
+They studied the beloved Schiller, laughed over "Puss in Boots," and
+regretted that Goethe's years of life had not been granted to the good
+and pure Fouqué and Novalis.
+
+Mr. Gregory shook his head sometimes over these German raptures, and
+wished that they would spend the time upon Greek. And Mrs. Felton
+was made very uneasy on their account, having imbibed the idea
+that all the Germans since Luther's time were either infidels or
+transubstantialists—meaning probably trancendentalists—but as Ruth lost
+none of her fondness for the Bible and religious reading, and seemed
+to enjoy her lessons very much, her fears gradually subsided, and she
+regarded the obnoxious volumes with more complacency, even when opened
+in her presence.
+
+But before long an event happened which for some time put an end to
+their studies. One evening the three friends were sitting over their
+books in the pleasant little study at the parsonage which looked out
+upon the road. It was a warm spring evening, and the long windows were
+thrown open to their full extent to admit the spring air and the last
+lingering rays of the sun.
+
+"Decidedly it is too dark for study," said Augusta, closing her book.
+
+"I have been looking for you to find that out," replied Ruth; "I have
+been unable to tell one letter from another for the last half-hour."
+
+"There is nothing very strange in that," answered Augusta, laughing.
+"You never will be able to tell your 'B's and your 'V's apart, even in
+broad daylight. If we were to study two years, I should expect to find
+you looking for 'beugen' among the 'v's."
+
+"There is some one coming to see your father," remarked Olive, glancing
+out of the window; "do you know who it is?"
+
+"It is no one I ever saw before, I am sure," said Augusta. "How
+miserably ill he looks! Bless me, Ruth, what is the matter? You look as
+if you had seen a ghost."
+
+Ruth was indeed extremely pale. She stood looking at the stranger, who
+came straight across the grass to the study-windows, as though familiar
+with the ways of the place. He was a respectably-dressed man, tall and
+large, but looking very pale and ill. The girls glanced from him to
+Ruth in surprise, seeing nothing in his appearance to cause alarm. But
+before they could speak, he reached the window.
+
+Ruth sprang forward to meet him, and seemed as though she would have
+fallen, but he caught her in his arms.
+
+"God bless you, Ruth!" he exclaimed. "You knew me, if no one else did."
+
+Augusta caught his hand and looked in his face.
+
+"Frederick! Can it be possible?"
+
+"I did not think I was so altered that no one could recognize me," he
+said mournfully. "Yes, Augusta, I have come back to see if there is a
+corner of the old house left for me—to die in," he added in a lower
+tone, as he sank upon the sofa. "Where are my father and mother?"
+
+"Shall I go and find them?" asked Olive in a low tone. And without
+waiting for an answer, she hurried away.
+
+She met Mr. and Mrs. Gregory sauntering slowly homeward through the
+deepening twilight, the one burdened with a basket of early radishes
+and lettuce from a neighbor's hotbeds, the other with a bunch of
+flowers.
+
+"Where are you hurrying at such a rate?" asked the lady in wonder.
+
+"I was going to look for you," replied Olive breathlessly, though
+trying to conceal her agitation. "There is a gentleman at the house
+that wants very much to see you."
+
+"Why, child, how flurried you are!" exclaimed Mr. Gregory. "Is it
+Walter?"
+
+"It is no one I ever saw before," said Olive, as they walked along more
+quickly, "but Augusta and Ruth know him, and sent me to look for you."
+
+"Augusta and Ruth! Husband, can it be—!" And Mrs. Gregory quickened her
+steps almost to a run, to keep pace with her husband's long strides.
+
+Olive followed at a distance, thinking she might be needed, and sat
+down in the parlor. She heard a faint scream, an exclamation from Mrs.
+Gregory, and then the door closed between them. She sat patiently for
+half an hour, struggling against a forlorn kind of feeling of being a
+stranger, and out of place. Why is it that this feeling so often comes
+to us in the presence of joy in which we have no share, and so seldom
+when the scene at which we are present is one of sorrow? She was just
+wondering what Mrs. Felton would imagine had become of them, when she
+heard Augusta's voice calling to her.
+
+"What—are you sitting here in the dark? Come in, do. I am afraid we
+have not been very hospitable, but we have been so surprised with
+Frederick, that—"
+
+"That you have forgotten me," said Olive smiling; "and no wonder. How
+is Ruth?"
+
+"She hardly knows, herself, I believe. Was it not wonderful that she
+should have known him the first moment? It is six years since we have
+any of us seen him. Poor fellow! He is sadly worn and tired now, but I
+hope he will be better to-morrow."
+
+"Where has he been all this time?" asked Olive.
+
+"Oh! In many places here and there. Mostly in the Indian Ocean. He has
+come home quite a rich man he says."
+
+Olive could not so much wonder at Ruth's recognition of her long-absent
+lover, when she looked at him as he sat between his father and mother
+on the sofa. He was so exactly like Augusta, despite his beard and
+moustache, and all other differences, she thought she should have known
+him anywhere. He looked pale and worn, for all his bronze complexion,
+and there was a languor in his manners which seemed to indicate either
+illness or great fatigue. One hand was clasped in his mother's, the
+other rested on his father's arm. But his eyes seemed all for Ruth,
+who sat leaning back in the rocking-chair, looking pale, but with an
+expression of intense yet subdued happiness that fully transfigured her
+face, and made Olive wonder how she could ever have thought her plain.
+
+Augusta was the only one of the party who looked sad. Her brother had
+left them in the beginning of her engagement, and since then she had
+been a beloved wife, a widow, and a childless mother.
+
+"Ruth, what will your mother think has become of us?" asked Olive,
+after a while. "We ought to have been at home by eight, and it is now
+eleven."
+
+"We must go," said Ruth, rousing herself. "I had no idea that it
+was so late. I wonder what mother will say?" she continued, as they
+were walking homeward by themselves, having declined Mr. Gregory's
+escort. "Would you mind telling her about it, Olive, and letting me go
+up-stairs? I want so much to be alone."
+
+Olive consented, of course, and as they found the door open, Ruth went
+straight to her own apartment, and Olive went into the sitting-room,
+where she found Mrs. Felton asleep on the sofa.
+
+"Bless me. Olive!" she said peevishly, as she roused herself and rubbed
+her eyes. "Where have you been all this time? Here I have been sitting
+up for you till my eyes are fairly out of my head. Where is Ruth?"
+
+"She is gone up-stairs," replied Olive. "I am sorry we kept you up,
+but we could not help it very well. They have had rather an exciting
+evening at the parsonage. Frederick has come home."
+
+"Why, do tell!" exclaimed Mrs. Felton, wide awake at once. "Well, if
+I ever! You don't say he has come home! Why, every one thought he was
+dead long ago. And so he has come back! When did he get here? Tell me
+all about it, won't you?"
+
+Olive complied, making her tale as circumstantial as possible. When she
+mentioned the circumstance of Ruth's being the first to recognize the
+stranger, Mrs. Felton exclaimed: "There now! That is just like her!
+I never did see such a girl. I dare say she would have him now if he
+asked her, though she has refused so many good offers."
+
+"He does not seem to me as though he were likely to have any body,"
+said Olive. "I think he looks very ill indeed, but that might have been
+only fatigue and agitation."
+
+"I wonder if he has come home to be a burden on the old folks in the
+evening of their days?" Mrs. Felton went on to say. "I think it will be
+really too bad if he has."
+
+"He told Augusta that he had come home quite a rich man," answered
+Olive, "but even if he had not, I know they would not feel it a burden."
+
+"Quite a rich man, eh? Well now, I'd never expect that of Fred Gregory.
+But any way, I am glad he has come home if he has reformed. It will be
+a comfort to their minds to see him once more. What did the old lady
+say to him when she came in?"
+
+"I don't know. I was not in the room. I thought they would rather be by
+themselves."
+
+Mrs. Felton seemed to think this a very remarkable piece of self-denial
+on Olive's part, and promised herself the pleasure of going over to
+sympathize with Mrs. Gregory, the first thing in the morning. The hint
+that Olive had given respecting Frederick having acquired property, was
+sufficient to set her imagination at work, and she lay awake half the
+night, arranging a romance wherein Mr. Gregory the younger played the
+part of an immensely wealthy nabob, come home expressly to marry her
+daughter, and to die shortly afterward, leaving Ruth a rich widow.
+
+"We can go on living together just the same," her reverie went on,
+"only in more style, of course. Black always was becoming to Ruth. I
+wonder whether she will wear caps?" And in deciding whether these caps
+should be of muslin or crape, Mrs. Felton finally lost the thread of
+her reflections in sleep.
+
+It did not appear, however, that any part of her romance was likely
+to be realized, except that which related to her hero's death. In the
+morning, he was so ill that he was unable to leave his room, and for
+two or three weeks he lay between life and death, in a fever. No one
+seemed to think it strange that Ruth was constantly at the parsonage,
+and indeed made it her home, till Frederick began to improve a little.
+
+There was a great deal of talk about his unexpected return, and
+considerable speculation as to the amount of his property, and people
+wondered whether he would marry Ruth in case he got well enough, and
+whether she would have him. Mrs. Tucker thought that she would refuse
+him with disdain if she had an atom of proper pride about her, as, of
+course she had not, or she would not be at the parsonage so much. She
+did not think it at all proper, for her part.
+
+Meantime, the objects of all this conversation paid very little
+attention to any thing beyond themselves. The prodigal was happy in
+being at home again, at peace with himself, the world, and his God,
+and looking forward with humble confidence to that city which hath
+foundations, where the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are
+at rest. The peace that passeth all understanding brooded over Ruth's
+heart and mind. She felt that it was well with her lover, and whether
+she enjoyed his society in this world, or looked forward to it in the
+next, was comparatively a matter of small concern. It was enough that
+he was faithful, repentant, forgiven, safe; that she could minister to
+his wants, both of body and mind; that he loved to have her by him;
+that he always knew her, even when his father and mother seemed like
+strangers to him; that he was at last worthy of her love.
+
+After a time, he recovered sufficiently to ride out, and even to walk
+to church. But he continued feeble and suffering, and all felt that his
+life hung upon a thread. He had earnestly requested Doctor Gordon's
+true opinion, and that opinion was freely given. The physician told him
+that he could never recover, even though he might live some time. His
+disease was one of the heart, which might terminate his life at any
+moment.
+
+Frederick received the announcement calmly and cheerfully, and set
+about finding some employment which should occupy without fatiguing
+him. This was found in the cataloguing and arranging a large quantity
+of East-Indian and Chinese curiosities, which he had picked up in his
+travels, and which he proposed to present to the academy. Thus he spent
+his time quietly and peacefully, happy in the society of those he loved
+best in the world, and awaiting the summons to his heavenly rest.
+
+This was the state of things when Olive went down to New-York to visit
+Laura, who would not hear of her stopping anywhere else first.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER EIGHTEENTH.
+
+OLIVE found Laura established in a fine house, in a fashionable street,
+with abundance of fine furniture, fine visitors, fine servants, every
+thing, in short, which had formerly constituted her idea of perfect
+happiness. Mrs. Witherington welcomed her sister with much more
+cordiality than usual, and seemed to think she could not do too much
+to make her comfortable. Olive had never slept in a room so splendidly
+furnished as that which Laura assigned to her. The pretty trifles that
+covered her dressing-table cost more than all Olive's wardrobe put
+together, and the price of the mantel-ornaments would have supported
+a Western missionary and his wife for a year. The whole decoration of
+the house was upon the same lavish scale, and seemed so extravagant to
+Olive that she was glad to learn that it had been furnished before her
+sister came into it.
+
+Laura appeared to enjoy it all wonderfully, and Mr. Witherington
+appeared to think nothing too good or too expensive for her. The first
+evening was spent quietly at home, Laura issuing an order to be denied
+to visitors, and giving up a party to which she was engaged, for
+Olive's sake.
+
+"It is quite a sacrifice, I assure you," she said, laughing; "for I was
+expecting to make a very splendid appearance."
+
+"I am sure, my dear, I enjoy the prospect of spending an evening
+quietly and rationally at home, and going to bed at a reasonable hour,"
+observed Mr. Witherington, "especially as we are to be in town but
+a few days longer. I think there is no greater bore upon earth than
+continual parties."
+
+"But we have not been to a party in nearly five days," said Laura,
+pouting a little; "and the last one was a wedding, too, you know.
+Besides, you know this will be the last one."
+
+Mr. Witherington sighed, but did not make any reply, and Olive thought
+he looked annoyed and uncomfortable. She could not wonder, when she
+found how Laura spent her time, and how little of it was given to her
+home and her husband.
+
+True there were no more parties, but something else came along to fill
+up every evening. One night a concert, then the opera, where a star of
+the first magnitude was then rising, then a few friends at home, fifty
+being Laura's most contracted definition of the word few. They were to
+go to the country the next week, and then Olive hoped there might be
+some respite.
+
+"Confess, now, Olive," Laura said, one morning when they were driving
+together, "that with all your philosophy you would like to exchange
+with me. Is not this better than school-teaching from day to day, with
+no recreation, only now and then a sewing society?"
+
+"I have never had much experience of your way of life, Laura," Olive
+replied, "but from what I have observed since I have been here, I would
+rather spend my life in teaching district-school from one year to
+another, than spend my life as you do. I am sure it would not be any
+more fatiguing, and I should at least have the comfort of thinking that
+I was bringing something to pass."
+
+Laura looked incredulous.
+
+"I am very sure I never was so tired after the hardest day I ever spent
+in school, as I was the morning after Mrs. Blank's party, and you
+seemed equally so; and what have you to show for it, after all? Suppose
+you pass the whole of next winter in this way—what will it amount to?
+You have no time to read or study, and very little, as far as I can
+see, to attend to your household. And then, at the end of life, how
+will it look as it is passed in review?"
+
+"There is no use in bringing that in," said Laura, abruptly. "If we
+were always thinking how things would look when we come to die, we
+should never do any thing."
+
+"I don't know about that," said Olive. "I think we should do some
+things a good deal better."
+
+"But not any thing we want to do," persisted Laura. "If we were always
+thinking upon death, we should have no pleasure in things that are very
+agreeable now, because we should all the time feel that we must go and
+leave them."
+
+"Perhaps we should only set a more just value upon them. You know the
+lines Mr. Witherington was reading last evening from his favorite,
+Southey:
+
+   "'O Monarch! only in the hour of death,
+     We learn to value things like these.'
+
+"But at any rate, it does not seem wise to fix one's mind entirely
+upon things which we may be called upon to leave at any time, and must
+inevitably give up before a good while."
+
+"I declare, Olive, you are a capital preacher!" said Laura, forcing a
+laugh. "I hope Walter will accept of your help in writing his sermons.
+And by the by, when is that young gentleman to be expected? I thought
+he was going to meet you here."
+
+"I expect him to-day or to-morrow—possibly this evening."
+
+"Is he as much given to preaching as yourself, my dear? Because if
+he is, I shall be quite afraid of him. You have made me quite blue,
+already."
+
+"I don't mean to make you blue, my love," replied Olive affectionately,
+"but I do wish I could persuade you to think a little. You have so much
+to be thankful for—youth, health, fortune, an excellent husband—I can
+not bear to have you ungrateful for it all."
+
+"Well, Olive, he 'is' a good husband," said Laura feelingly. "You don't
+know how good he is. I am sure I did not till I came to see him every
+day. I did not believe any man could be so thoroughly excellent as he
+proves himself. Since we have been married, I have never known or seen
+him do or say a thing that I would wish otherwise. I only wish I were
+more worthy of him, but some how one's conscience and one's wishes are
+so terribly at variance."
+
+"But since it is conscience that must decide the matter at last, would
+it not be well to bring one's wishes a little more into harmony with
+its teachings?" asked Olive. "At least would it not be worth while to
+try?"
+
+Laura did not reply, and Olive thought she had said enough.
+
+The remainder of the drive was rather a silent one. When they arrived
+at home, they found Walter awaiting them. He brought the pleasant news
+that his studies would be finished by the next spring, and then—
+
+"Then comes ordination," said Olive.
+
+"Yes, and something else after it," said Walter. "I hope it will not be
+long before I am settled somewhere, and I assure you I have no idea of
+boarding or keeping bachelor's hall."
+
+"And have you no desire of remaining for a short time that interesting
+creature, an unmarried clergyman?" asked Olive mischievously. "Just
+think how much you will lose if you settle down so soon as a family
+man."
+
+"I really can not say I wish to fill that trying position, Olive. I
+think it is one in which it is exceedingly difficult to appear to
+advantage. But when have you heard from M., and from Mrs. Forester?"
+
+"It is three weeks since I have had a letter from Abby," returned
+Olive, "and I am growing very anxious about her. Mr. Forester has
+been in Boston for some time—in fact, nearly all summer, and they are
+boarding. But her constant excuse is that she has so much to do. I can
+not understand it."
+
+Walter looked surprised.
+
+"Did you not know Abby was giving music lessons? I heard so early in
+the summer. I understand she has a good many pupils."
+
+"She has never said a word about it to me," replied Olive. "How did you
+hear of it?"
+
+"Some of us were talking of music one day, and one, a young man from
+B., spoke of his sister's music-teacher as singing wonderfully well,
+and called her Mrs. Forester. This aroused my curiosity, and from his
+description of her husband, I satisfied myself that it could be no one
+else than Abby."
+
+"What did he say about her husband?" asked Olive.
+
+"Why, really, my love, his description was so far from complimentary
+that I should not care to repeat it."
+
+"You need not be afraid," said Olive, coloring. "I could hardly think
+worse of him than I do. And so that is the secret of her want of time.
+Poor child! She is wearing her life out giving music lessons, while he
+is enjoying himself at Boston, in an artistic fashion. Why could he
+not stay at home and take care of her? My uncle found him an excellent
+place, where he had a good salary."
+
+"So Hitchcock said. I believe it was his father or some relation that
+employed him. But he said Mr. Forester was always behindhand, and could
+not be depended upon for any thing, and they had an explosion one day,
+and Mr. Forester went off. Do you know where he is now?"
+
+"The last I heard, he was preparing illustrations for some book or
+other, but very likely he has become tired of it by this time. There
+is, as your friend says, no dependence upon him. With all his fancied
+intellectual superiority, he is as meanly selfish as any man I ever
+knew."
+
+"I saw a sister of his once, who seemed a very nice girl," remarked
+Walter. "I fancy she is older than Forester."
+
+"Yes, his sister Emma. Abby thinks all the world of her, and she has
+always been the main stay of the family. But I think they all look down
+upon her, and consider her a person of no talent whatever. I am sure
+William does—though she has more in her little finger than goes to his
+whole composition. But to think of that poor little thing giving music
+lessons!" Olive almost cried at the very idea.
+
+"But why is it so much worse for her than for you?"
+
+"Because she is so utterly unfitted for it, Walter. And then it is such
+a disappointment—such a contrast to what she expected when she was
+married. She thought she was going to be perfectly happy, only because
+she married the man she loved—and such an accomplished person. Much
+good his accomplishments do him or any one else, except to make him
+think himself superior to all the rest of mankind, and that every one
+else is bound to work for and wait upon him."
+
+"Does he profess to be in any degree a religious man?"
+
+"Oh! No, indeed. He is quite too grand for that. He says, so far as I
+can get at his ideas, that he worships God in beauty—that every thing
+beautiful must have good in it—and that art is religion."
+
+"A very convenient faith for those who like to escape from all
+restraints upon their conduct."
+
+"Oh! Yes. You should hear him discourse upon the trammels of
+convention, and the narrow-minded views of those miserable dogmatists
+who would shackle the grasping genius of such minds as—George Sand,
+for instance, that 'large-souled woman and large-hearted man,' as he
+is fond of calling her. I asked him one day point-blank if he did not
+think her a very bad woman."
+
+"What did he say?"
+
+"He politely replied that my views of morality were too narrow to
+enable me to judge of a character like hers. For my part, I can not say
+that I have any desire for wider views of morality than those taken by
+the Author of the Ten Commandments."
+
+"And Abby—does she sympathize in all these large views?"
+
+"I think there was a time when she did, in some degree," replied Olive,
+"but I am sure she is very much changed in that respect. In one of her
+letters, she told me how she loved to think of the lessons she learned
+at her mother's knee, though she was a very little child then, and how
+much she enjoyed the idea of teaching them over again to little Emma.
+
+   "'I put her dear little hands together and say a prayer for her every
+night and morning,' she wrote, 'and it seems as if she knew what I
+meant already, she is so still.'
+
+"And I am sure, though she does not say so, that she prays a great deal
+herself. The whole tone of her letters shows that she is very much
+changed in that respect."
+
+"Let that give you comfort, my dearest Olive," said Walter tenderly.
+"If, in the midst of her troubles, she has learned to love God, we have
+the very highest assurance that all things work together for good. No
+real harm can happen to her while she is faithful to Him, though in his
+wisdom he may call upon her to glorify him, even in the fires."
+
+Olive was silent for a few moments, and then said: "I wrote to her this
+morning, and I really think, if I do not have an answer in two or three
+days, I must go on there directly, instead of going to the country with
+Laura. I do not like the idea of losing a moment of our time together
+either, but I feel so anxious about her."
+
+"Wait a little," said Walter; "we may hear again soon, and then you can
+decide better what course to take."
+
+Walter's prediction was verified, for Mr. Witherington brought in a
+letter at dinner-time, addressed to Olive. It was from Charlotte, and
+contained the startling intelligence that Abby was at home, and very
+ill.
+
+   "You will be surprised to hear that Abby is with us," she wrote, "and,
+indeed, it hardly seems real to any of us yet. It appears that Mrs.
+Granger had been away, so that she had not seen Abby for some time.
+As soon as she came home she went to visit her, and found her so very
+unwell, and so very uncomfortable, that she wrote to father about it,
+without telling Abby what she was going to do. As soon as we received
+the letter, father and mother set out directly, and they found her so
+very unwell, and so very uncomfortable, that they thought the only
+thing to be done was to bring her home at once, and she was very glad
+to come. She is a little more comfortable to-day, but Dr. M. does not
+give us much encouragement, and she is so very anxious to see you, that
+mother thinks you had better come home directly. She wants Walter to
+come with you and finish his visit here. Telegraph, that we may know
+when to expect you.
+
+   "P. S.—Mammy has taken possession of little Emma, and will hardly allow
+any one else to look at her. She is a sweet little creature, and seems
+healthy."
+
+Olive handed the letter to Laura. "I must go to-morrow," she said, "or
+to-night, if it is not too late."
+
+"You will gain nothing by leaving to-night," said Mr. Witherington, as
+soon as he understood the matter. "It will be better to take the early
+morning-train. I shall be very sorry to have you leave us, but I can
+not ask you to stay."
+
+Laura's eyes were full of tears, as she followed Olive to her own room.
+
+"Poor Abby! Poor child! But I am thankful she is at home again. I think
+she will get better—don't you?—now that she has a comfortable place to
+live in."
+
+"I don't know," said Olive. "Charlotte would not have written so if she
+had not been very much alarmed. She does not make a fuss for nothing,
+and I think Abby must have felt herself very ill before she consented
+to go. Poor child! I suppose she thought she might at least die at
+home."
+
+"Don't talk about that," said Laura. "I am sure she will get well. Just
+think how strong she always was!"
+
+"She has never been well since Emma was born," said Olive, shaking her
+head, "and if her lungs were affected, as aunt feared last spring,
+there would be nothing worse for her than singing lessons. I declare,
+Laura, I never thought it would be hard for me not to hate any one, but
+it is hard for me to have any other feeling toward that man—"
+
+"And the worst of it was, in my mind," said Laura, "that I never
+believed he really cared much for her, except for having his own way.
+You know I insinuated to you that he offered himself to me."
+
+Olive nodded.
+
+"He did so again, and from what I heard afterward, I was pretty sure he
+was engaged to Abby even then. I taxed him with his attentions to her
+at the time, but he laughed, and said all he cared for was her music.
+If she had refused him, he would have been dangling after some one else
+in two weeks' time. Then after, there was so much opposition made by
+the family, I suppose he persuaded himself that he really loved her,
+and was determined to have her at any rate."
+
+"He is—but there is no use in talking about that. I should like to
+forget him entirely, if I could. Do you think you shall go to the
+country to-morrow?"
+
+"Probably not till Thursday now. I shall be able to go to M. as easily
+from Briars as from here, if it is necessary. If she gets better, so
+that change of air is considered desirable for her, we will come and
+take her down there. You must be sure and let me know of her state as
+often as you can. Does it not seem strange that this news should come
+just as we were talking about death this morning?"
+
+"'In the midst of life we are in death,'" repeated Olive, almost
+involuntarily. "But if it must be one or the other, I should rather it
+were Abby than you."
+
+"You think she is better prepared. But, indeed, Olive, I am going to
+try and be more serious after this. You and my husband make me ashamed
+of being such a butterfly. But you know I was brought up to it."
+
+"I know it," said Olive, "but don't make that an excuse for your
+present course of life, if you feel that you are wrong, Laura. You can
+act for yourself, and you are bound to do it."
+
+"But what shall I do, Olive? Suppose I become convinced of the
+uselessness and emptiness of all these things—how shall I break off
+from them? I can not go into a convent."
+
+"And it would be of no use if you did, so long as you carried an
+unchanged heart with you. The same desires and objects of life would be
+just as sinful if they were not gratified, as though they were. It is
+not the circumstances, but your heart, that wants changing first, and
+when that is right, never fear but the way will be plain before you."
+
+
+The next morning, Walter and Olive began their journey, and arrived at
+home in the middle of the afternoon. Charlotte met them at the door.
+
+"She is much more comfortable to-day," was her reply to Olive's
+hurried query, "but you must expect to see her much changed. She had a
+terrible turn of suffering last night, from which she was relieved by a
+severe hemorrhage at the lungs this morning. She says it is the third
+she has had since June. You can not go up now," she added, checking
+Olive's eagerness. "She has just fallen asleep for the first time in
+twenty-four hours."
+
+Olive inquired for the baby.
+
+"Mammy has taken her out to walk. She is the only one who can coax
+her away from her mother, but Emma seemed to take to her honest black
+face at once. She will sit upon the bed as still as a mouse, hours at
+a time, if we will let her. I never saw such a child! Mr. Collins came
+yesterday to pray with Abby, and when he began, the little thing put
+her tiny hands together, and held them up as though she understood it
+all. It was quite too much for mother—I never saw her so affected. She
+was obliged to leave the room."
+
+"How does Abby seem to feel herself?"
+
+"She is quite composed most of the time, and complains very little. The
+only thing that comes to trouble her, is her anxiety about her husband.
+She is afraid he will not get here—"
+
+"Has any one written?" asked Olive, as Charlotte paused without
+completing the sentence.
+
+"Father wrote the day they came home, but we have received no answer.
+I think, though she does not say so, that she is afraid he will be
+displeased at her coming. I do not see why he should. She could not
+stay there alone, and in such an uncomfortable place, too."
+
+"How was she when uncle found her? I have heard nothing yet, except
+what you said in your letter."
+
+"That is pretty much all. Father got a letter from Mrs. Granger, saying
+that she thought Abby was very ill—more than she herself was aware.
+Mrs. Granger did not say that she had bled at the lungs; perhaps she
+did not know it. But her description of the symptoms she had observed
+alarmed father and mother so much that they determined to set out for
+there directly.
+
+"When they got there, the woman who lived in the lower part of the
+house told her that she thought Mrs. Forester was dying of consumption,
+and had been all summer. They found her up-stairs, in a room as hot as
+a furnace, with the western sun full on the windows. She was lying on
+the sofa, partly dressed, and a little girl was trying to put the room
+in order. It seemed that was the only place she had to stay, and she
+lay there from one day to another, unable to go down-stairs most of the
+time.
+
+"Of course she was very much surprised to see them. She tried to make
+out that she was only tired and sick. But, partly by questioning her,
+and partly by inquiring of the woman of the house, (who seemed disposed
+to be as kind as she knew how, mother said) they found that she had
+been giving lessons in singing and on the piano all summer, and had
+only stopped the latter when she grew too hoarse to speak.
+
+"Mrs. Hines said that Mr. Forester had been there twice, and staid four
+days each time. She thought he took some money from Mrs. Forester when
+he went away. She said she had tried to alarm him about Mrs. Forester's
+state of health, but he seemed to think she was not very sick.
+
+"'Nonsense, Mrs. Hines!' he had said. 'How can you think of her being
+sick with such a splendid color as she has? It is nothing but a cold.'
+
+"'I was mad enough at him to knock him down,' the good woman said, 'but
+I don't think he meant to neglect her. It was only his foolishness—'"
+
+"It has been his foolishness which has done all the mischief, from
+beginning to end," said Olive bitterly. "But go on, Charlotte."
+
+"There is little more to tell," replied her cousin. "She was unwilling
+to come at first, though mother said she evidently wished it very much.
+But she yielded at last, upon father's assurance that he would write to
+Mr. Forester directly. She bore the journey better than was expected,
+and seemed so happy when she was carried in and laid upon her old bed.
+She appeared just as much like a child as ever at first. And Edward
+would let no one carry her in but himself, and the good old fellow
+laughed and cried till I did not know but he would go into hysterics
+outright. Mammy seized upon Emma, who went to her directly, and she has
+kept her ever since, except when she has been cooking something nice to
+tempt 'Miss Abby' into eating.
+
+"Almost every one we know has come to inquire for her—even aunt Dimsden
+seems to have forgiven her completely. She has been here two or three
+times a day, and sat up with her last night. Indeed, no one in the
+house went to bed till almost morning."
+
+Mrs. Merton now entered the room to greet Olive and Walter. She was
+stately and elegant as ever, but looked worn and anxious.
+
+"Abby is still asleep, my dear. Come and get some refreshment, for I
+am sure you must both need it. Mr. Landon, how well you are looking. I
+think your change of employment must agree with you." She continued:
+"I assure you sir, I was very angry with you for a time, till this
+romantic girl begged a peace for you. How could you give up all your
+splendid prospects so suddenly?"
+
+"Simply because I thought it was right, dear Mrs. Merton," said Walter,
+"and I have never found reason to alter my opinion, though I can not
+deny that at the time I felt it a great sacrifice."
+
+"I should think so indeed. With your talents, you might have become so
+distinguished and been so useful."
+
+"I hope what talents I have may be a hundredfold more useful in the
+calling I have chosen," replied Walter; "and as for distinction,
+pardon me, but I do not think a Christian has any right to make that
+an object. The servants in the parable were commanded to employ that
+committed to their charge, whether it were ten talents or one, not
+to their own advantage but to that of their master; and if they were
+rewarded afterward, it was only by the grace of their lord. I do not
+believe that at the last hour I shall at all regret the loss of worldly
+distinction."
+
+"But according to that view you remove one of the greatest spurs to
+human action," remarked Charlotte.
+
+"True, but only to substitute a stronger and better one in its place.
+The man who is moved to employ his time and talents because they are
+gifts from the Being best loved in the universe, to be employed to His
+honor and consecrated to Him, will, I think, be far less likely to go
+wrong than he who uses his gifts only to his own advantage, and that he
+may obtain the praise of men."
+
+"But are all men capable of being influenced by such motives?" inquired
+Charlotte incredulously. "Are they not above the reach of common minds?"
+
+"Since they are offered by the Lord of all alike to all minds, we are
+bound to believe that they are suited to all. I believe more people
+are actuated by them than the world chooses to believe. How many men
+and women one sees discharging monotonous and painful duties from year
+to year and from day to day with nothing visible to sustain them, yet
+cheerful and even happy under their burdens, because they have a faith
+that looks above and beyond them to a region of rest and happiness."
+
+Charlotte sighed.
+
+"I wish I had it then, I am sure," she said in a weary tone not unmixed
+with bitterness. "But the more I struggle for it, the more unattainable
+it seems."
+
+Mammy now appeared to say that Miss Abby was awake, and Olive and her
+aunt withdrew.
+
+"Miss Merton," said Walter, after a moment's silence, "will you permit
+me to ask you a question upon your last remark? Of course I can not
+claim an answer, but it may lead to something satisfactory to you
+perhaps. You say that you have sought such a faith—but how?"
+
+"By study," replied Charlotte, "I have examined all the evidences
+for the authenticity and authority of the Scriptures, and perfectly
+satisfied myself on that point. Then I began to review the articles of
+our Church, comparing them with the Bible, and, as far as I have gone,
+I am convinced that they are perfectly scriptural."
+
+"But still I understand that you have not yet attained to what you
+really want. You have collected the materials, but they are only dead
+matter after all. You have acquired knowledge, and now you want faith
+to make that knowledge available."
+
+"Yes, I suppose so. But how is that to be attained?"
+
+"By prayer. My dear Miss Charlotte, in this matter I can give you
+no other advice than I would give to the youngest child in my
+Sunday-school class. Seek God in prayer; beg of him to enable you to
+see yourself exactly as you are. Let me ask you what you will think a
+common-place question: Have you felt yourself to be a great sinner?"
+
+"I can not say that I ever have," replied Charlotte frankly. "Of
+course, I know that I have done wrong sometimes, but it seems to me
+that I am about as good as people in general."
+
+"That is at least an honest answer. Let me ask you again to entreat of
+God to see yourself just as you are. Pray for correction of your own
+unworthiness, and then compare yourself with the requirements of His
+law and Gospel. That is the first step, and when you have attained to
+that, believe me, you will no longer care whether you are as good as
+other people or not. I do not hesitate to tell you that you must come
+to feel yourself a lost sinner, utterly without any plea in the sight
+of God, and deserving of nothing but his anger, before you can arrive
+at peace."
+
+"That is just what I have heard preached all my life, Mr. Landon, and
+it has done me no good yet."
+
+"You have heard it preached all your life because there is nothing else
+to preach," replied Walter. "We have no right to make a new Gospel
+for the use of the first families exclusively. The reason that you
+have derived no good from it has been that you have not yielded to it.
+Beware that pride in your own talents and refinement does not prevent
+you from yielding to this Gospel which you have heard all your life,
+till it be too late. Only open your mind to conviction, be willing to
+see the truth as it is, and after a while you will find rest to your
+soul."
+
+"You have spoken plainly, Mr. Landon, and I thank you for it," said
+Charlotte, after a moment's silence. "I tell you plainly that I do not
+believe I shall ever come to see myself such an utterly lost creature
+as you think me, though I suppose you have the same opinion of all the
+rest of mankind and I will endeavor to follow your advice, and perhaps
+I shall profit by it."
+
+
+Olive found Abby supported by piles of pillows, and breathing with
+difficulty. She was fearfully changed. The rosy flushed skin had become
+white as paper, and a scarlet spot burned in each cheek, while her eyes
+looked twice as large as ever, and perfectly transparent.
+
+Much as she felt the necessity of calmness, Olive could hardly command
+her voice as she spoke to her.
+
+Abby had been forbidden to speak, but she whispered:
+
+"I am so glad you have come. Have you heard from William yet?"
+
+"Not yet, but I presume he will be here to-night. He might have started
+for home you know, and in that case the letter would have met him on
+the road."
+
+This supposition, which no one had thought of, seemed to comfort Abby,
+and she lay back with a more contented expression. Olive gave Laura's
+messages, which seemed to give her pleasure, and she whispered:
+
+"Thank her."
+
+They sat for some time in silence, and then seeing that her aunt had
+left the room, Abby said with effort:
+
+"I must say one thing, Olive, in case I get worse. If any thing happens
+to me, you must take Emma, if Walter is willing. Bring her up like your
+own, in the fear of God. Will you?"
+
+"I will, love, God helping me. But indeed you must not talk now, you
+will be better to-morrow."
+
+"I hope so. I should like very much to get well if God pleases. Do you
+think it is wrong?"
+
+"No indeed, dear child. But try and be willing to have it either way."
+Olive could say no more.
+
+"I am, I hope, Olive," said Abby. "I have learned where and who He is,
+Olive. We are not strangers."
+
+"You must not say another word," said Olive. "Let me read you
+something."
+
+"Not now. Just sit still, and let me look at you."
+
+She took Olive's hand in her own, and leaned back with her eyes fixed
+upon her. Gradually her eyes closed, her grasp relaxed, and she fell
+into a tolerably quiet sleep, which lasted till dark.
+
+Her physician came in the evening, and pronounced that there was a
+slight improvement.
+
+Olive followed him down-stairs to learn his opinion of her sister's
+case.
+
+"Please tell me the exact truth, Doctor," she said, as he made her some
+evasive reply. "It can not be worse than my fears."
+
+"My dear Olive, you know all about it now as well as I can tell you,"
+said the good old man. "She may get well, but humanly speaking there
+is hardly a possibility of it. I shall not be surprised to see her
+comparatively comfortable again, and she may even be able to be up
+again, but that is all. She must be kept quiet, and indeed she keeps
+herself so. I never saw any one in a better state of mind, and that
+of itself does a great deal. If she sleeps to-night, as she seems
+inclined, I shall expect to see her a great deal better in the morning."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER NINETEENTH.
+
+AS the doctor had prophesied, Abby was much more comfortable the next
+morning—better, indeed, than, she had been since her arrival, and it
+was thought that a little talking would do her no harm. She seemed
+to find the greatest pleasure in recurring to her childhood, and her
+school-days, and in talking about them.
+
+Emma sat quietly upon the bed, looking at her mother, and amusing
+herself with some old play-things of Charlotte's that Mammy had
+discovered in a remote corner of the nursery. She was a very precocious
+and beautiful child, having her mother's blue eyes and fair hair
+already beginning to curl in rings round her face.
+
+Olive and Charlotte sat at work by the bed, and Mrs. Merton went and
+came from the parlor to the sick-room as she could find time. A great
+many people called to inquire for the invalid, and, according to the
+pleasant custom of the place, gifts of flowers, fresh fruit, and other
+delicacies, were sent in.
+
+Abby seemed as though she would have been quite happy, but for her
+anxiety about her husband, who came about noon, feeling very much
+abused, and preparing to be very lofty and indignant at having his wife
+carried off without his knowledge. He had not received the letter,
+having left Boston before it arrived, and he was naturally much amazed
+on reaching home, and going straight to his room, to find Abby and the
+baby gone, the bedstead empty, and the furniture covered up.
+
+The terrible fear that first came over him being removed by the reply
+to his first question, he was all the better prepared to be irritated,
+when Mrs. Hines, nowise inclined to soften matters, informed him "that
+Mrs. Forester's friends had come and took her home, and time enough
+they did, too, in her opinion."
+
+An attempt to silence and overawe that lady by dignified and lofty
+demeanor turned out a signal failure, and ended in what might with
+propriety be called a scolding-match, on which occasion the gentleman
+came off second-best, so that it was in no very good humor that he took
+the cars to M. By the time he arrived there, he had worked himself up
+into a great passion, and was determined to do wonderful things. Abby
+should return with him at once, or not at all, and he would put a final
+end to her peevishness and childish freaks of temper. He would teach
+Mr. Merton to interfere in his affairs.
+
+A thundering ring brought that gentleman himself to the door. Mr.
+Merton possessed in a remarkable degree the commanding presence, and
+calm, all-penetrating eye, which is apt to belong to distinguished
+lawyers. And as his gaze rested upon his nephew-in-law, that gentleman
+felt a sudden and sensible diminution of his courage and wrath; so he
+thought it best to begin, before any more of it forsook him.
+
+"So, Mr. Merton!" he commenced, in a much louder tone than was
+necessary. "You think it an honorable proceeding, do you, to enter a
+gentleman's house and interfere with his affairs, as you have done with
+mine! Let me tell you—"
+
+"Tell me in a lower tone, if you please," interrupted Mr. Merton
+blandly. "There is no occasion for the next street to be informed,
+and moreover, your voice will alarm your wife, who lies in a very
+precarious state. Be pleased to walk in, and then we can discuss the
+matter properly."
+
+Mr. Forester was put down, in spite of himself. He followed Mr. Merton
+in to the library, and took a seat. "Well, sir!" he continued. "I
+should like to know by what right my wife has been taken away without
+my knowledge?"
+
+"Simply because there was no one to stay with her, and she was far too
+ill to be left alone. There was no other course to take."
+
+"By whose judgment was she pronounced so ill?" asked Mr. Forester,
+trying to continue his lofty tone, but feeling more and more all the
+time that it was a failure.
+
+"Upon my own, and my wife's, corroborated by that of your family
+physician," was the composed reply.
+
+"She must have become suddenly worse, then," said Mr. Forester
+peevishly. "She seemed well enough when I was last at home. I never saw
+any one have a more splendid color."
+
+"Being unused to sickness, probably the symptoms did not attract your
+attention," returned Mr. Merton politely. "She is very ill now, and I
+am sorry to be obliged to tell you, that Dr. Willson pronounces her
+recovery very doubtful. Indeed, he told Olive that only the utmost
+quiet and ease, would prolong her life from day to day. I should not
+tell you this painful intelligence so abruptly, my dear sir," he
+continued, "but that I wish to impress upon you the absolute necessity
+of caution. I will go and tell my wife that you are here; and she will
+prepare Abby for seeing you."
+
+Mr. Merton was gone some little time—long enough for Mr. Forester to
+make up his mind that they were all in a conspiracy to frighten him out
+of finding any fault with Abby. "But I will not be bullied," he said
+internally, as he followed Mr. Merton up-stairs; "she shall go back
+to-morrow, if she is able to be moved."
+
+All thought of finding fault, of taking Abby back, for once even of
+himself, were put to flight by his first look at her. She had raised
+herself from her pillows, and was looking eagerly toward the door:
+every trace of color had vanished from one cheek, while on the other
+the hectic spot burned more brightly than ever. Her large eyes looked
+black, from the dilatation of their pupils and the hands she stretched
+out to him were transparent as porcelain.
+
+He was shocked beyond measure. It had never been any part of his
+education to put any constraint upon his emotions, and as she threw
+herself towards him, he clasped her in his arms, and burst into tears.
+Abby's eyes were always ready to overflow, but nothing could be more
+dangerous now than a fit of crying.
+
+"This will never do!" Mrs. Merton's calm voice was heard saying. "Mr.
+Forester, you are endangering Abby's life by giving way so. If you can
+not compose yourself, you must retire at once. Abby, my love, remember—"
+
+Mr. Forester disengaged himself from his wife's embrace, and walked to
+the window to recover his composure. Even then, he found time to think
+how hard-hearted Mrs. Merton was, and how little she could appreciate
+delicate feelings like his. In a few moments, he returned and sat down
+by the bed-side, and Mrs. Merton left them together, with a renewed
+charge to William, not to agitate Abby.
+
+"So you came home and found your bird flown," said Abby softly, after a
+little pause. "What did you think, when you found I was not there?"
+
+"I was very much alarmed, of course," replied Mr. Forester. "I could
+not be otherwise, not having heard of your being worse. Why did you not
+write?"
+
+"I was not able for several days, and kept thinking I should be better.
+Mrs. Granger wrote to uncle without my knowledge, and when he came, I
+was so ill, and so very uncomfortable that I seemed to have no other
+choice. Uncle wrote to you directly after we arrived here."
+
+"Are you sure? I have had no letter. But if you were so unwell the last
+time I was at home, why did you not say something about it? I never saw
+you looking better than you did then."
+
+"I did tell you that my cough was very troublesome," said Abby timidly.
+
+"I don't remember it," replied Mr. Forester, carelessly. And indeed he
+had paid very little attention to it, having been absorbed for the time
+in running over a new piece of music. "But I hope you will soon be well
+enough to return home, for I can not say I like the idea of your being
+here."
+
+Abby's heart sunk. "It is so pleasant and home-like here," she pleaded,
+"and they are all so kind, and so fond of Emma. And if you are away in
+Boston, I might as well be here as there."
+
+"Only that it is not very agreeable to me to come here, and be treated
+like a criminal by all the family," rejoined Mr. Forester peevishly,
+"and I do not choose to have my child brought up to despise her father."
+
+"They have never said an unkind word about you," said Abby, with an
+eagerness which set her coughing. "I am sure uncle's letter was as kind
+as could be."
+
+"I see that they have won you over to their side altogether," replied
+Mr. Forester, in what he meant for a playful tone, but which was really
+one of annoyance. "We shall soon have you making them a humble apology
+for having married me at all."
+
+"I think uncle has forgiven me entirely," said Abby faintly, for she
+was getting very tired.
+
+"So you acknowledge that you are wrong! What a pity you had not thought
+of it before. You might have saved yourself all the trouble you have
+had in housekeeping, and have been still an admired young lady. But
+come, don't bring the water-works into play," he added, seeing her eyes
+full of tears, "or you will be worse, and I shall be turned out of
+doors for an unnatural monster. I want you to get well, so I can have
+you all to myself again."
+
+But in the earnestness of justifying herself from the charge of wishing
+she had never been married, Abby over-exerted herself, and coughed
+terribly.
+
+The ominous sound summoned Mrs. Merton, and she at once dismissed Mr.
+Forester, not without a grave rebuke for allowing his wife to talk so
+much.
+
+The gentleman went down-stairs in any thing but an amiable humor. He
+had intended to be very magnanimous and very gentle with his wife, but
+upon reviewing what he had said, he could not but be conscious that he
+had allowed his annoyance to appear plainly—that he had disturbed her,
+instead of doing her any good, and that Mrs. Merton thought, though she
+did not say so, that he was not to be trusted.
+
+It was, therefore, with no amiable feelings that he met Miss Merton and
+Miss McHenry in the parlor. They took pains to be very polite, feeling
+really sorry for him in view of the distress which they supposed he
+must feel. Olive asked him how he found Abby.
+
+"She is very unwell, no doubt," said he, throwing himself into a corner
+of the sofa. "I do not believe her hasty journey has done her any good.
+She is much worse than when I left her."
+
+Miss Charlotte stiffened up directly. "The journey was not a hasty one,
+Mr. Forester," said she coldly, "and Abby was so unwell when my father
+found her that it was impossible to think of leaving her where she was,
+with no one to take care of her."
+
+"I understood Mrs. Forester that the people of the house were very
+attentive," he replied loftily.
+
+"It would be rather hard both for them and her to have her left upon
+their hands," said Olive gently. "Such people have usually enough to
+do to attend to their own affairs, and however well disposed they
+may be, they can not bestow that constant attention which is needed
+by an invalid in Abby's situation. But how do you like your present
+employment?" she asked, hoping by turning the conversation to prevent
+an explosion from Charlotte. "I should think it must be very agreeable."
+
+"Oh! I have given that up," replied the gentleman. "The man was too
+insufferably accurate. He insisted upon my doing every thing according
+to rule and measure, and had the audacity to prefer his own stiff
+sketches to the drawings I made from them, because he said they were
+more correct! As if mere mechanical correctness were the main thing in
+a picture!"
+
+"But in a scientific work," said Olive, "it seems to me that accuracy
+would be worth much more than picturesque effect."
+
+"May-be so," returned her brother-in-law, "but I can not work in that
+way. I must have room allowed for the play of my imagination. These
+very practical people never have any sympathy for aught beyond their
+own ideas."
+
+"Perhaps the very practical people might make the same complaint of
+the very imaginative ones," replied Olive, smiling; "at any rate, as
+a certain number of practical people seem to be necessary for the
+well-being of society, it is perhaps best to have patience with them."
+
+"Yes, of course, if they will only have patience with us, and be
+willing to know their place, and keep to it. And as you say, a certain
+number of them seem to be rather convenient. Now there is my sister,
+Emma—she has not one spark of genius, and is as narrow-minded as
+possible, but yet she is a very useful person in the family. I hardly
+know what my mother and Emmeline would do without her. But to return to
+your sister. When do you think she will be able to be moved?"
+
+"Moved!" exclaimed Charlotte and Olive together. "You surely can not
+think of taking her away."
+
+"Why, I don't know," he replied doubtfully. "Perhaps a change might do
+her good. I was thinking of going to some of the villages near Boston
+to live, and of course I could not go without her."
+
+"I am afraid she will never live to be moved again," said Olive, her
+eyes filling with tears. "Dr. Willson says her case is almost hopeless."
+
+"But don't you think physicians are apt to make matters worse than they
+are, Olive?" asked William anxiously. "They naturally like to enhance
+their own importance. I have seen people much worse than she is, who
+recovered."
+
+"We must hope for the best as long as we can," said Olive sadly, "but
+I fear there is but one event possible. Her only chance is to be kept
+perfectly quiet and easy in mind. Pray do not say a word to her about
+going away. I am sure it would worry her very much, and perhaps bring
+on another bad attack."
+
+The mischief was done, however. Abby coughed very badly all the
+afternoon, and the evening brought another time of great distress,
+followed by another attack of bleeding, not so severe as the last, but
+enough to cause serious alarm in her present weak state. Dr. Willson
+absolutely forbade her talking to any body, and only one person was
+allowed to be in her room at a time.
+
+
+The next day, Mr. Merton courteously invited Mr. Forester to make
+the house his home as long as Abby continued ill. Mr. Forester was
+much obliged, but hinted at painful obligations, whereupon Mr. Merton
+intimated that Mr. Forester's services would be valuable in the office
+just now, and Mr. Forester accepted the invitation upon condition that
+his services should be considered an equivalent for his board. For
+about a week he was very assiduous in his attendance upon office-work,
+and Mr. Merton really began to have hopes of him, but they were not
+very long-lived.
+
+As usual, when the novelty of the thing wore off, his industry
+began to relax. His old companions courted his society. It was very
+wearisome to work in the office all day, and then return at night to
+Abby's sick-room, and the grave circle in Mr. Merton's drawing-room.
+He persuaded himself that his own health was failing, as it always
+did when he worked in the house, and that he needed exercise, and his
+office-hours became few and far between.
+
+If he had been a clerk, Mr. Merton would have discharged him at the end
+of a month, but Abby's comfort was now the principal object, and he
+was allowed to take his own course. The example was by no means a good
+one, and, as may be imagined, began to make trouble among the other
+young men, and Mr. Merton was very glad when he abandoned the office
+altogether, and became wholly absorbed in the idea of publishing a set
+of translations from the older German and Italian poets, an occupation
+which he varied by long pedestrian rambles, which sometimes kept him
+away for a day or two at a time, and from which he returned with
+abundance of beautiful but unfinished sketches.
+
+Olive once or twice finished up some of these sketches into pictures,
+which Mr. Forester admired very much, and showed to every body as his
+own. He was quite astonished to find that his sister-in-law could
+draw as well as himself and that Charlotte was more than his equal
+in languages, both ancient and modern, and now and then a glimmering
+perception came across his mind that he was not altogether so far above
+all the rest of the world as he had always imagined.
+
+Abby lay from day to day with little visible alteration, except that
+she was gradually growing weaker, and less able to withstand her
+terrible attacks of difficulty of breathing, which were always followed
+by bleeding. She was quiet and smiling, apparently perfectly resigned
+to whatever might happen, happy in being once more at home, in feeling
+herself forgiven, in having her husband and child with her. She had
+told William her desires in respect to Emma, and he had given his
+consent to the arrangement, without thinking much about it.
+
+In fact, Mr. Forester made entirely a false estimate of his own
+character. He fancied himself earnest, passionate, and susceptible
+of strong emotions, when in reality he was both shallow-minded and
+shallow-hearted, utterly incapable of receiving deep or lasting
+impressions. As Laura said, if Abby had refused him, he would have
+forgotten all about her in six weeks. But like most persons of weak
+will and understanding, he was very obstinate, and when he found
+himself opposed, he resolved to win her at all hazards. But he was kind
+to her now, and took some little pains to render himself agreeable to
+the family, and that was enough to render her happy.
+
+It had already been settled in the family councils that Olive was not
+to return to Basswoods at the end of the vacation. Abby could not bear
+the idea of her sister's leaving her even for a day, and Mrs. Merton
+thought that as there was no probability of her returning for any
+length of time, she had better write to Mr. Jones, in order to give him
+time to provide a substitute. She did so at once, advising him to apply
+to Mrs. Granger again, and she also wrote to Ruth, informing her of the
+change in her plans. She felt very sorry to take leave of the school
+so abruptly, but her anxiety and grief for Abby swallowed up all minor
+considerations.
+
+Walter entirely approved of her plan of spending the winter at home,
+thinking, though she did not say so, that she ought to have a season
+of rest before undertaking the somewhat arduous duties of a pastor's
+wife. His visit was a comfort to the whole family. Abby liked to have
+him read to her and pray with her, even better than Dr. Eastman; Mr.
+Merton enjoyed the quiet evening conversations, and formed all the
+time a higher and higher estimate of his young friend's abilities and
+principles; Charlotte liked him because he was so perfectly honest and
+plain spoken—so utterly without humbug, was her expression; and even
+Mrs. Merton quite forgave his romance, as when driven into a corner she
+still persisted in calling it.
+
+Mr. Forester, utterly unconscious of what an admirable foil he was to
+Walter's good qualities, tolerated, and sometimes patronized him, to
+Olive's indignation and Walter's great amusement. And though he could
+not but look with contempt upon a man who had given up the study of
+music because it interfered with such a trifling pursuit as practising
+law, he yet allowed that Walter would make a very good sort of husband
+for Olive, who was as prosy as himself.
+
+In a week or two letters came from Mr. Jones and Isabella Lambert,
+containing both pleasant and sad news. The pleasant part of the
+intelligence was, that upon Mrs. Granger's earnest recommendation, the
+committee had engaged Helen Monteith to fill Olive's place, Isabella
+being still retained as second teacher. Nothing could have pleased
+Olive more. She knew that Helen would carry out her plans, and keep up
+the influence which she had acquired, and she felt, too, that she would
+fill up the gap in the little social circle at the parsonage.
+
+A postscript in Isabella's letter, written the next day, announced the
+death of Frederick Gregory. As the doctor had predicted, it was very
+sudden at last. He had been working at his collections by times during
+the day, and seemed as well as usual. But while they were all sitting
+together in the twilight, he had complained of fatigue, and laid his
+head upon Ruth's shoulder. After a few moments' silence, she touched
+his hand, and was alarmed at its coldness. Lights were brought, but all
+was over. He had breathed his last, resting upon the breast which had
+been faithful to him for so many years.
+
+Olive wrote to the girls, and received an answer from Ruth almost
+immediately. It was short, and a good deal of it related to business,
+but there were a few sentences which related to himself, and which set
+Olive's heart at rest about her. Ruth evidently felt resigned to her
+loss, and was deeply thankful that so much more had been vouchsafed to
+her than she had any reason to expect. She told Olive that Helen was to
+have her old room, but there would be another for her whenever she came
+to Basswoods; her letter concluding with quantities of affectionate
+messages from the school-girls, who, Ruth said, were quite in despair,
+and perfectly sure that they never could, never should, and never would
+like any other teacher as well as Miss McHenry.
+
+Olive wrote them a kind of general letter, recommending Miss Monteith
+to their especial consideration, and begging them to show their
+affection by being as dutiful and respectful to her successor as they
+had been to herself.
+
+A few days later, the express brought her a package containing a
+beautiful writing-desk and color-box, which had been purchased for
+her by their joint contributions. Mr. Forester criticised the form
+and arrangement of both, and wondered what a parcel of common-place
+school-girls could find in their mistress to be grateful for. But Olive
+shed some tears over the pretty gifts, and felt that the love of her
+pupils was worth a great deal to her.
+
+Laura and her husband came up to see Abby, and spent two weeks at aunt
+Dimsden's, who was in the seventh heaven of enjoyment and gratified
+vanity, and displayed her adopted daughter and her daughter's husband,
+or, as William said, "trotted out her elephants," till the elephants
+themselves did not know whether to be most amused or annoyed.
+
+Olive's opinion of Mr. Witherington rose with every opportunity she
+had of observing him, and she could not but hope that he would, after
+a time, acquire such an influence over Laura, as would make her worthy
+of him. She thought that Laura was really improved—that she was less
+frivolous, less fond of display, and showed less anxiety to be admired.
+Aunt Dimsden was rather vexed with her niece for making Abby's state
+an excuse for not attending some of the gay parties that were made for
+her, and wanted Mr. Witherington to interpose his authority to prevent
+his wife from being moped to death in a sick-room. But Mr. Witherington
+was not inclined to do so, and she had to content herself with talking
+to every one about her dear Laura's sensibility and affection for her
+sister.
+
+Abby liked having Laura to sit with her and talk to her a little while
+at a time, for she soon grew weary now of any conversation. Laura told
+her many stories and anecdotes of her New-York life, and her fine
+acquaintances, and sometimes made her laugh more than Mrs. Merton
+thought was quite safe. But she always slept well after it, and seemed
+to enjoy it so much that no one had the heart to interfere with her
+pleasure. The last day of Laura's stay, she was alone with Abby quite
+a long time, and when she left her, she was weeping bitterly. It was
+some time before Olive knew the subject of their conversation. But Mr.
+Witherington told her afterwards, he thought it had a great effect upon
+Laura—that she was much more domestic, and cared more for her husband's
+society, and less for the excitements which had formerly been her chief
+delight.
+
+It seemed as though Abby declined from the day Laura left them. She
+lost her voice entirely, and was unable to sit up a moment. But she
+had no more of the terrible turns of suffering which had been so
+distressing to witness, and which nothing seemed to relieve. She
+lay most of the time in a painless, half-dreaming state, not always
+recognizing those about her, but always docile and uncomplaining.
+Little Emma was almost always with her, sitting upon the bed, as near
+her mother as she could creep, and keeping her eyes fixed upon her, or
+playing with her long, thin fingers. Abby liked to have Emma near her,
+and the little one's presence often roused her when nothing else would
+have the desired effect.
+
+Every night, as long as she was able to speak, she put Emma's hands
+together, and repeated her evening prayer, and it was a sad grief to
+the baby, the first time her mother was too ill to notice her clasped
+hands, and the inarticulate murmur with which she had learned to
+accompany the whispered words.
+
+William seemed about this time to awaken all at once to the idea that
+his wife was dying. He seldom left her, except to procure something
+which he fancied would give her pleasure, watched her day and night,
+and gave up all his favorite employments to read to her when she was
+able to hear him, or to sit by with his hand clasped in hers, when she
+was restless and unable to sleep. It was evident that Abby herself
+never blamed him, even in her inmost thoughts, and that she loved him
+with an earnestness and depth over which his own faults and follies
+had no power. To her, he was still the William who had attracted her
+first love, whom she had invested with qualities which certainly never
+belonged to him, and whom she still believed in, despite all her
+disappointments and the sad experience of her married life.
+
+A few days before the last, she seemed to revive very much. She
+regained her voice in some measure, knew every one about her, and
+seemed much stronger than she had been for weeks. William was full of
+joy, and seemed to look upon her as nearly well, and even Mrs. Merton
+could not help having some hopes. Abby had expressed a wish to receive
+the holy communion, and Mrs. Merton consulted the doctor.
+
+"Nothing can hurt her, my dear madam," he said, in answer to her
+anxious inquiries. "This apparent gain is but the last flash of the
+lamp. Let her have her own way in every thing, but do not leave her
+alone a moment."
+
+Dr. Eastman was accordingly summoned, and with all her friends around
+her, Abby received, for the last time, the pledges of the dying love of
+the Saviour, who was even then standing at the door. She did not seem
+much fatigued, and spoke without difficulty several times after the
+clergyman had gone, but Mammy's experienced eye saw that a change had
+come over her.
+
+"She is marked for death, Mrs. Merton," said she to her mistress, whom
+she had gone to call, leaving Charlotte and Olive with Abby. "She won't
+be here many hours longer. Lord receive her, poor dear lamb!"
+
+"Do you think she is dying, Mammy?" asked Mrs. Merton anxiously, but
+preserving her composure, as she usually did, so long as there was any
+thing to be done. "Send Edward for Mr. Merton at once—he was called to
+the office a few minutes ago; and let him call for Dr. Willson."
+
+When she entered the sick-room, she found Abby half-leaning upon her
+husband, but holding Charlotte's hand, and talking to her at intervals.
+Charlotte sat like a statue, but the tears fell fast from her eyes.
+
+The only words Mrs. Merton caught were, "Take Him for your own, Lotta.
+Nothing else is worth living for."
+
+Then, after a few moments' silence: "He is so good—he helped me—he
+helps me now."
+
+"Don't talk, Abby," said William hoarsely; "you will exhaust yourself."
+
+"It won't make much difference," she said, with a heavenly smile
+illuminating her already sharpened features. "Dear William, don't
+grieve too much, and study the Bible. Don't be deceived by fancies.
+There is nothing but Christ!" She was silent again, and lay apparently
+asleep for half an hour, till Mammy brought in the baby.
+
+Emma stretched out her hands to her mother.
+
+"Set her down here," said Abby, now seeming to speak with a little
+difficulty.
+
+As Mammy obeyed, she took her hand and kissed her. "Thank you, dear
+Mammy. Take care of her while she is little, won't you?"
+
+"So help me God, I will, Miss Abby," said Mammy, quite overcome. Her
+sobs were the signal for a burst of tears from every one in the room.
+Abby's eyes filled, too, but the drops did not fall. She looked around
+the room, and called every one to her by name, even the servants, who
+had collected at the door. There was again an interval of silence, and
+she said faintly, "Uncle!"
+
+"What, love?" asked Mr. Merton, trying to speak calmly.
+
+"I was a very ungrateful girl, but indeed I loved you all the time.
+Please forgive me and poor William, for my sake."
+
+Mr. Merton kissed her, but could not reply.
+
+Abby now changed rapidly, and when Dr. Willson put some wine to her
+lips, she could not swallow. Taking, with a last effort, Emma's little
+hands between her own, she murmured some indistinct words, of which
+they could only distinguish the last—"for Jesus Christ's sake."
+
+And when she had so spoken, she fell asleep.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TWENTIETH.
+
+FROM the first of Abby's illness, Olive had felt that she could not
+get well, but now that she was really gone, it seemed but a dream. She
+could not think, in passing Abby's room, that her sister was no longer
+there. The exquisite statue of alabaster that lay folded on soft satin
+and surrounded with beautiful flowers was not Abby, and she could not
+connect it with her sister.
+
+It seemed as though the house were almost empty. Emma would hardly
+go to any one but Mammy, and she cried constantly for her mother,
+especially at night. She would not allow her father to take her at all.
+All necessary business was attended to by Mrs. Dimsden with a quietness
+and kindness which did her great credit, causing Mrs. Merton to think
+that she had really done Alicia injustice, and making her resolve that
+she would hereafter be more patient with her short-comings.
+
+William shut himself up in his room, and would see no one. Perhaps
+as he went back over the circumstances of his married life, he felt
+some self-reproach and some misgiving that he had not always been the
+kindest and most considerate of husbands—that it would have been better
+if he had been willing to cramp his fancy and genius a little and work
+steadily at a respectable calling, instead of quarrelling with his
+employers and allowing his wife to waste almost her last breath in
+music lessons. Perhaps he thought that the things he had been spending,
+time and money upon (thinking himself all the time much superior to his
+poor Abby) would not weigh a grain when laid in the balance against
+her self-sacrificing industry. It is at least charitable to hope so.
+He left M. a few days after his wife was buried, to pay a visit to his
+mother, having first borrowed fifty dollars of Mr. Merton, who was very
+kind to him at parting, and very glad to get rid of him so cheaply.
+
+He left Emma in Olive's charge, with proper expressions of gratitude
+and confidence, which she could very well have dispensed with, and
+begged her to keep Abby clothes and ornaments for the child and not
+let her forget her father. "I think she is very bright," was his last
+remark. "I hope she may turn out talented."
+
+"Heaven forbid!" exclaimed Olive when he was out of hearing. "I would
+rather she would turn out almost any thing else."
+
+"Talents do nobody any harm, my dear Olive, when they are rightly
+improved, and the character properly cultivated," said Mrs. Merton, who
+overheard her. "But when a man thinks that because he can do a little
+of a good many things very easily and likes to amuse himself with books
+and pictures, that he is a genius and that therefore he is excused from
+hard work and from doing any thing that he does not like; when he once
+accepts the supposition that he has a right to please himself and that
+every one else is bound to work for him—why, I would give more for any
+little Dutch child that is taught to work at four years old, by picking
+up chips while its father saws wood."
+
+Walter came up to the funeral, as did Mr. Witherington and Laura, so
+that the family were once more all together. Laura seemed very much
+subdued, and every way improved. She would gladly have taken the little
+Emma herself, but Olive would not hear of such a thing, and indeed aunt
+Merton seemed to want her more than any body. She should keep her till
+Olive was married, she declared, and then they would see what was to be
+done.
+
+She hoped matters might be so managed that Olive might be settled near
+them. Mrs. Merton had her own reasons for hoping so, though she thought
+best to keep them to herself. Their parish church had long been full
+and crowded to overflowing, and some of the families who lived most
+distant from church, Mrs. Merton's among the number, began to think of
+colonizing and establishing a new parish nearer at hand. It was not
+likely that the movement would be carried into effect before spring.
+Mr. Merton had great influence among his friends and neighbors, every
+one liked Olive, and there seemed no reason why Olive's husband should
+not take charge of the new chapel, as soon as it was built and he was
+ordained.
+
+It was only since her niece had been away from her, that Mrs. Merton
+had learned to appreciate her—for in reality she had never really
+done Olive justice while she was at home. Her very quick feelings
+and somewhat irritable temper, as well as a certain diffidence
+which sometimes looked like sullenness, made her appear at a great
+disadvantage by the side of poor Abby, who was always gentle, cheerful,
+and tractable, and laid her open to constant defeats in her frequent
+skirmishes with Charlotte, who usually contrived to throw the blame of
+the quarrel upon her. Mrs. Merton thought her own daughter hasty, but
+open and generous, and she had never been able to believe that Olive
+really was so.
+
+But the spirited yet judicious and respectful way with which Olive had
+asserted her right to support herself, and the entirely noble manner in
+which she had come out of the affair of poor Abby's miserable marriage,
+had acquired for her upon the part of her aunt, a respect which every
+thing she did contributed to strengthen, and Mrs. Merton no sooner
+began to respect any one than she began to like them. She felt too,
+that she had done Olive injustice, and she was anxious to make it up
+to her by every means in her power. It would have pleased her better
+undoubtedly, if her niece had made a more splendid match, but she saw
+that she and Walter were very well suited to each other, that he was a
+talented, industrious, and steady young man, and she felt that under
+such circumstances she had no right to interfere. The course he had
+taken about studying for the ministry had displeased her very much at
+first, but she gradually learned to regard it with more favor as she
+saw how entirely he was fitted for the profession he had chosen. As
+she said to Mr. Merton, it was plain that Mr. Landon would do his best
+in whatever he undertook, and would never be any thing but a credit to
+those connected with him.
+
+Walter's stay was a short one, but before he left M. it was settled
+that Olive was to be married in the spring as soon after her lover's
+ordination as he should be settled anywhere. Meantime, she was to
+remain at Mrs. Merton's, except that she intended to make a visit to
+Basswoods some time during the fall. Mrs. Merton again began to turn
+her attention to sheeting and linen, and made numerous long shopping
+excursions, which resulted in such a quantity of brown paper parcels
+that the Miss Willets who lived opposite, thought Mrs. Merton must be
+thinking of setting up a shop.
+
+Over the contents of these bundles did Mrs. Merton and Charlotte hold
+long and solemn consultations, to which Olive was sometimes admitted
+and sometimes not. She was not to be allowed to make herself thin and
+ill with sewing, Mrs. Merton pronounced, so she was only allowed to do
+the very lightest parts of the work, the rest having been committed to
+a seamstress renowned for skill and the mysteries of the needle. Olive
+would have remonstrated at the quantity and quality of the articles
+lavishly provided, but Mrs. Merton had a plea which stopped all
+remonstrances.
+
+"You know, my dear, that we always intended to provide for you both as
+if you were our own, and since poor dear Abby did not have her share,
+you must take a double portion."
+
+Abby died the last of September, and it was not until the end of
+November that Olive felt any spirits for her intended visit to
+Basswoods. She carried an invitation from her aunt to little Louisa to
+come home with her and spend the holidays, with which she was very well
+pleased, thinking that the child would be both gratified and benefited
+by the change. She found Helen completely established in her old
+quarters, and to all appearance likely to become as much of a favorite
+in the place as she herself had been. Every one was pleased with her,
+Ruth said, except Mrs. Tucker, who had wished to obtain the place for
+Melissa.
+
+It was rather trying to Olive to be obliged to listen to Mrs. Felton's
+expressions of sympathy, for that lady always seemed to suffer under
+a fear that her friends would not appreciate the extent of their
+misfortunes. If she visited a mother who had lost her child, she would
+insist upon inquiring into all the circumstances of the little one's
+sickness and death, and related all the cases in any degree similar
+which had come within her knowledge. Nothing offended her more than
+to have any one intimate to her that this sort of conversation was
+ill-timed; she set that person down at once as unfeeling and wicked,
+and she had never quite forgiven Mr. Gregory for somewhat abruptly
+dismissing her from Augusta's room at the time that her little girl
+died.
+
+Ruth seemed entirely unaltered, except that her cheerfulness had a
+certain subdued character, and that she talked less. She seemed to take
+as much interest as ever in all her old pursuits, and she and Augusta
+were still reading German together. Frederick's collection had been
+arranged by them in the library of the academy, and formed quite a
+valuable cabinet of natural history. The little property he had brought
+home with him was left to his parents for their life-time; at their
+death to be equally divided between Ruth and Augusta.
+
+This arrangement disappointed Mrs. Felton, who had made up her mind
+that Ruth was to turn out an heiress, and who had built several castles
+in the air upon this foundation, but all the other parties interested
+were more than satisfied. Mrs. Felton could not understand what a
+clergyman could want with so much money. Their house was furnished
+well enough—some people thought too well for a minister—and what any
+one could want of so many books was more than she could see. Why, the
+parish library contained more volumes than were to be found in the
+whole country when she was a girl, and she did not perceive that any
+one was the better for it. Nobody ever thought any thing of what she
+said, however. The parish library went on increasing no one exactly
+knew how, while the comeliness of the sanctuary was increased by
+various repairs and improvements till it became one of the prettiest in
+the country.
+
+If Olive met with some annoyances in the course of her visit, the
+pleasures greatly counterbalanced them. Every one was glad to see her.
+The first time she entered the school-room, she was nearly devoured by
+the kisses of the girls, while Helen looked on smilingly, above the
+jealousy which some people would have felt upon such an occasion. Mr.
+Prendergrass actually left the regions below, and came up-stairs to
+speak to her, though such a thing as the principal entering the young
+ladies' department had never been known in the Rev. Mr. Snowden's time.
+
+Olive saw at once that Helen was likely to succeed—all the girls liked
+her and she evidently liked them, without being finical or fussy
+about little things, she was sufficiently strict, and she required
+the most perfect recitations at the same time that she took pains to
+make those recitations lively and interesting. Several of the larger
+girls, including Anna Jones and Julia Goodrich, had left school, though
+they still came two or three times a week to draw and read French, and
+Helen told Olive that their influence and example had been of great
+use to her. They were a good deal looked up to by the younger set, who
+seeing them take pride in being good scholars and punctual in their
+attendance, were naturally more inclined to be so, too.
+
+Upon the whole, the tone of the school had improved very much during
+the three years it had been under Olive's care. The standard of
+scholarship was higher, there was much less gossiping and consequently
+much less quarrelling among the girls, and a better state of morals
+prevailed altogether.
+
+Olive could not but be thankful that it had not fallen into the hands
+of another Miss Brown, who would undo in one quarter all that she had
+accomplished. It was hard for her to leave Basswoods, where she had
+spent so many happy hours, and where she had first known Walter. Every
+house and street-corner in the curious old place was dear to her—yes,
+even the haunted old red house, to which she and the girls persisted
+in walking one Saturday afternoon, despite Mrs. Felton's grave
+remonstrances. Olive took a sketch of it, which that lady declared she
+would not have hanging up in her room for any thing; it was all very
+well for people not to be superstitious, but she did think there was
+such a thing as presumption. She appealed to Mr. Gregory to know if
+this last remark was not true, and his grave assent made her almost
+forget his want of appreciation for her sympathy.
+
+Olive's stay was prolonged from day to day, and from week to week, till
+at last she hardly left herself time to return before the holidays.
+
+Louisa enjoyed her visit at Mrs. Merton's very much, and won all hearts
+by her merriment and docility. She received more pretty presents than
+she ever had before. Mr. Merton took great pleasure in showing her all
+the lions of the city. Mrs. Dimsden made a children's party for her,
+and Olive feared the little girl's head would be turned entirely. She
+did not think it best for her to stay longer than a fortnight, as it
+was not desirable that she should lose her standing in school. And she
+returned with Walter, feeling that she had subjects enough of thought
+and conversation to last her all winter.
+
+Helen wrote that Louisa had settled down to her studies as well as was
+to be expected, and that she seemed to think Mrs. Merton's home the
+very "ne plus ultra" of magnificence, and Mrs. Merton herself a sort of
+superior being.
+
+But the winter was not destined to pass without further sorrow. The
+little Emma, who had always seemed a healthy child, was taken suddenly
+ill, not long after Louisa's visit, and despite all that could be done,
+died on the fourth day. She was insensible most of the time, and seemed
+to suffer but little. She had never seemed to Mrs. Merton like a child
+that was likely to grow up, but more like one of those little angels
+who are sent to earth, to show what the Saviour meant when He said:
+"Of such is the kingdom of heaven." Her extraordinary precocity, her
+perfect docility, and almost unearthly beauty, had always been in her
+aunt's eyes so many signs that her pilgrimage on earth would be a short
+one.
+
+Mammy thought so too.
+
+"Her mother keeps calling her," she said to Olive one day. "She won't
+be here long, Miss. Most every time I watch her asleep, I see her smile
+and hold up her hands, and I know her mother calls her."
+
+Though Olive had something of the same feeling, the baby's death was
+a bitter disappointment to her. Yet when she was calm enough to think
+the matter all over, she was constrained to say it was well. William
+would undoubtedly marry again, and even if he did not, she well knew
+there was no dependence to be placed upon him—that he would be very
+likely to take a fancy to remove Emma from her charge after a while.
+Nevertheless, she missed the little creature sadly. And for a long
+time, the sight of a child of Emma's age would bring the tears into her
+eyes.
+
+A message was sent to Mr. Forester at the first appearance of danger,
+but he only arrived in time for the funeral. He remained two or three
+days at Mr. Merton's, occupied in selecting his own books from among
+Abby's, and in burning her letters and papers. As we shall have nothing
+further to do with that gentleman, we may as well say here that within
+a year from Emma's death, he married a wealthy young lady, an heiress,
+who had been first attracted to him by "The Widower's Lament," which
+was published with an appropriate vignette, and greatly admired as
+displaying such a depth of feeling.
+
+The present Mrs. Forester is not in the least like Abby, possessing
+upon the contrary good deal of decision of character and some sharpness
+of tongue on occasions. Nevertheless, she is in the main an estimable
+person, and as she took the precaution before she was married of having
+all her property secured upon herself, it is to be hoped that Mr.
+Forester may loiter away the rest of his life without doing a great
+deal more mischief.
+
+His sister Emma has married late in life a very excellent man in good
+circumstances greatly to the astonishment of her mother and Emmeline,
+who have a great deal to say about Emma's selfishness and ingratitude
+in leaving them, after all they had done for her. William sympathizes
+with them and says that Emma was always narrow-minded.
+
+
+Mr. Landon's ordination came on early in March, and Mrs. Merton
+took Olive down to New-York to be present at it. The new parish was
+organized by this time, and when Walter came up on a visit to Mrs.
+Merton's, he was invited to fill the vacant pulpit for several Sundays.
+
+Olive thought the severest ordeal through which she had ever been
+called upon to pass was hearing Walter's first sermon. But with all
+her fears and misgivings, she could not but feel that it had been all
+she could wish. Every one else seemed to think so too, for at the end
+of the six weeks for which he had been invited to take charge of the
+parish, a formal call was tendered to him to become the pastor of the
+new church.
+
+For his own part, he would have preferred to make his first essay in
+a country congregation. But he knew how anxious Olive's friends were
+to have her settled near them, and how kindly Mr. Merton had exerted
+himself to procure this place for him; so, as there was really no
+good reason for refusing, he accepted the call, and was formally
+installed in the sacred office. The salary was sufficiently liberal,
+he had something of his own, and there seemed to be no reason why the
+engagement between him and Olive should be prolonged.
+
+It was not prolonged beyond the first of June. Olive had sent for
+Augusta and Ruth to come up and bring Louisa with them, and they
+accepted the invitation. Louisa and Charlotte were to be bridesmaids,
+and the former mounted her first long dress upon the occasion.
+
+The wedding was a very quiet one, the deep mourning of the family
+forming a ready excuse for having no company, though Mrs. Dimsden
+thought the fact of Olive's being the minister's wife ought to have
+outweighed it. Abundance of cake and cards were sent out by Mrs. Merton
+next day, and no one was dissatisfied except Mammy, who thought the
+affair was not half grand enough, though she admitted that it was very
+genteel.
+
+The new-married pair went down to make a short visit at Mrs.
+Witherington's. She was staying at the Briars, and welcomed them
+with her usual cordiality and grace. Olive liked the country-house
+better than the town-house. It was more quiet, the furniture was all
+old-fashioned, and looked as if it might have been there since the
+old French war, and indeed much of it had retained its place since
+the Revolution. The gardens and conservatories were splendid, and Mr.
+Witherington seemed perfectly happy in walking through them, giving
+directions to the gardener or holding consultations with him over some
+delicate grape-vine or sickly-looking pear-tree.
+
+Laura frankly confessed that she had at first detested Briars, and only
+came there in compliance with the wishes of her husband, who was very
+fond of the place.
+
+"But do you know I am really beginning to like it? The mornings were
+terribly long at first, till I took to practising violently. Mr.
+Witherington likes Beethoven and Mendelssohn, and I am learning all the
+old-fashioned things I can pick up to please him. I think it is little
+enough, as long as he is so indulgent to me. We ride out on horseback
+almost every day, and you know I was always fond of that. There are
+some very pleasant people within visiting distance, and upon the whole
+I like it almost as well as New-York."
+
+"I suppose you will return to the city in winter," said Olive.
+
+"Oh! Yes, but I assure you I shall not be so dissipated as I was last
+year. I am beginning to think that there are other things in the world
+besides company and dress. I shall never forget what dear Abby said to
+me that last day. But tell me all about your plans, my dear. Are you
+going directly to housekeeping?"
+
+"Oh! Yes, I think it is best to begin as one means to keep on. I
+never believed in young married people boarding, and it is especially
+inconvenient for a minister. We shall have a very pleasant house—the
+one Mr. Fairfax built for Jenny, you know. The church, when it is
+built, will be just next door. I left Mammy planning about carpets and
+curtains as happy as possible."
+
+"She and Edward will have hard work deciding to which house they
+belong—won't they?"
+
+"I don't know," replied Olive laughing; "I think the Black Prince
+thinks that I am hardly able to take care of myself. Aunt has kindly
+promised to spare me Anne, so I shall have no trouble with servants to
+begin with."
+
+After a short stay in Basswoods, where Olive received so many bridal
+presents as to materially increase her baggage, Mr. and Mrs. Landon
+returned to M. to find her house all prepared for them, with tea ready,
+Louisa looking out for them, and Anne in attendance.
+
+The beautiful china which decorated the table, was at once recognized
+by Olive as part of a set upon the merits of which Laura had asked her
+opinion one day when they were in New-York. The house was elegantly
+but not splendidly furnished, though Louisa thought nothing had ever
+been seen more beautiful than the dark-green and crimson carpets and
+rosewood chairs. She could hardly allow her sister-in-law time to take
+off her bonnet, so anxious was she to display the contents of closets,
+book-cases, drawing-room, and study, and especially her own little
+room with its blue and white bed, table, and chairs all to match, and
+its little book-case and desk, which Mrs. Merton said was to be all
+her own. It was not till she had done the honors of the whole house
+that she remembered that her brother and sister might possibly like
+something to eat after their ride.
+
+They had hardly finished their tea before a ring was heard, and in
+came Mrs. Merton and Charlotte, closely followed by aunt Dimsden,
+all anxious to see Olive, and know how she liked her new house. Mrs.
+Merton was in her most gracious mood, and Louisa listened with blushing
+delight to her commendation of her own conduct during her brother's
+absence. The house had again to be passed in review; and the presents
+of friends to be discussed and praised. The silk quilt which Olive
+had brought from Basswoods, and upon which Anna and Phebe Jones had
+been employed for a year previous, was displayed and admired, as well
+as Mrs. Felton's knit counterpane, Ruth's beautiful embroidery, and
+Augusta's Chinese screens and tea-trays. Charlotte thought Olive would
+have to have a fancy-fair to get rid of the quantities of book-marks,
+pen-wipers, glove-boxes, and other small articles presented by the
+younger part of the congregation.
+
+"Well, Olive," were Mrs. Dimsden's parting words, "you see I was
+right, after all. I knew you would marry a minister, and really," she
+concluded, glancing at Walter as she spoke, "taking all things into
+consideration, I doubt if you could have done better even if I had
+found you a husband myself."
+
+
+
+
+
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76970 ***