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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/19702-8.txt b/19702-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6b29955 --- /dev/null +++ b/19702-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7639 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Rector of St. Mark's, by Mary J. Holmes + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Rector of St. Mark's + +Author: Mary J. Holmes + +Release Date: November 2, 2006 [EBook #19702] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RECTOR OF ST. MARK'S *** + + + + +Produced by David Garcia and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Kentuckiana Digital Library) + + + + + +[Illustration] + + + + + RECTOR + OF + ST. MARKS + +[Illustration] + +[Illustration] + + THE + RECTOR OF ST. MARK'S + + BY + + MRS. MARY J. HOLMES + + AUTHOR OF "DORA DEANE," "MAGGIE MILLER," "LENA RIVERS," + "THE ENGLISH ORPHAN," ETC. + + M. A. DONOHUE & CO., + CHICAGO. + + * * * * * + + + + +THE RECTOR OF ST. MARK'S + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +FRIDAY AFTERNOON. + + +The Sunday sermon was finished, and the young rector of St. Mark's +turned gladly from his study-table to the pleasant south window where +the June roses were peeping in, and abandoned himself for a few +moments to the feeling of relief he always experienced when his week's +work was done. To say that no secular thoughts had intruded themselves +upon the rector's mind, as he planned and wrote that sermon, would not +be true; for, though morbidly conscientious on many points and +earnestly striving to be a faithful shepherd of the souls committed to +his care, Arthur Leighton possessed the natural desire that those who +listened to him should not only think well of what he taught but also +of the form in which the teaching was presented. When he became a +clergyman he did not cease to be a man, with all a man's capacity to +love and to be loved, and so, though he fought and prayed against it, +he had seldom brought a sermon to the people of St. Mark's in which +there was not a thought of Anna Ruthven's soft, brown eyes, and the +way they would look at him across the heads of the congregation. Anna +led the village choir, and the rector was painfully conscious that far +too much of earth was mingled with his devotional feelings during the +moments when, the singing over, he walked from his armchair to the +pulpit and heard the rustle of the crimson curtain in the organ loft +as it was drawn back, disclosing to view the five heads of which +Anna's was the center. It was very wrong, he knew, and to-day he had +prayed earnestly for pardon, when, after choosing his text, "Simon, +Simon, lovest thou me?" instead of plunging at once into his subject, +he had, without a thought of what he was doing, idly written upon a +scrap of paper lying near, "Anna, Anna, lovest thou me, more than +these?" the these, referring to the wealthy Thornton Hastings, his old +classmate in college, who was going to Saratoga this very summer, for +the purpose of meeting Anna Ruthven and deciding if she would do to +become Mrs. Thornton Hastings, and mistress of the house on Madison +Square. With a bitter groan at the enormity of his sin, and a fervent +prayer for forgiveness, the rector had torn the slips of paper in +shreds and given himself so completely to his work that his sermon was +done a full hour earlier than usual, and he was free to indulge in +reveries of Anna for as long a time as he pleased. + +"I wonder if Mrs. Meredith has come," he thought, as, with his feet +upon the window-sill, he sat looking across the meadow-land to where +the chimneys and gable roof of Captain Humphreys' house was visible, +for Captain Humphreys was Anna Ruthven's grandfather, and it was there +she had lived since she was three years old. + +As if thoughts of Mrs. Meredith reminded him of something else, the +rector took from the drawer of his writing table a letter received the +previous day, and, opening to the second page, read again as follows: + + "Are you going anywhere this summer? Of course not, for so long + as there is an unbaptized child, or a bed-ridden old woman in the + parish, you must stay at home, even if you do grow as rusty as + did Professor Cobden's coat before we boys made him a present of + a new one. I say, Arthur, there was a capital fellow spoiled when + you took to the ministry, with your splendid talents, and rare + gift for making people like and believe in you. + + "Now, I suppose you will reply that for this denial of self you + look for your reward in heaven, and I suppose you are right; but + as I have no reason to think I have any stock in that region, I + go in for a good time here, and this summer I take it at + Saratoga, where I expect to meet one of your lambs. I hear you + have in your flock forty in all, their ages varying from fifteen + to fifty. But this particular lamb, Miss Anna Ruthven, is, I + fancy, the fairest of them all, and as I used to make you my + father confessor in the days when I was rusticated out in + Winsted, and fell so desperately in love with the six Miss + Larkins, each old enough to be my mother, so now I confide to you + the programme as marked out by Mrs. Julia Meredith, the general + who brings the lovely Anna into the field. + + "We, that is, Mrs. Meredith and myself, are on the best of + terms. I lunch with her, dine with her, lounge in her parlors, + drive her to the park, take her to the operas, concerts and + plays, and compliment her good looks, which are wonderfully well + preserved for a woman of forty-five. I am twenty-six, you know, + and so no one ever associates us together in any kind of gossip. + She is the very quintessence of fashion, and I am one of the + danglers whose own light is made brighter by the reflection of + her rays. Do you see the point? Well, then, in return for my + attentions, she takes a very sisterly interest in my future wife, + and has adroitly managed to let me know of her niece, a certain + Anna Ruthven, who, inasmuch as I am tired of city belles, will + undoubtedly suit my fancy, said Anna being very fresh, very + artless, and very beautiful withal. She is also niece to Mrs. + Meredith, whose only brother married very far beneath him, when + he took to wife the daughter of a certain old-fashioned Captain + Humphreys, a pillar, no doubt, in your church. This young Ruthven + was drowned, or hung, or something, and the sister considers it + as another proof of his wife's lack of refinement and discretion + that at her death, which happened when Anna was three years old, + she left her child to the charge of her own parents, Captain + Humphreys and spouse, rather than to Mrs. Meredith's care, and + that, too, in the very face of the lady's having stood as sponsor + for the infant, an act which you will acknowledge was very + unnatural and ungrateful in Mrs. Ruthven, to say the least of it. + + "You see I am telling you all this, just as if you did not know + Miss Anna's antecedents even better than myself, but possibly you + do not know that, having arrived at a suitable age, she is this + summer to be introduced into society at Saratoga, while I am + expected to fall in love with her at once and make her Mrs. + Hastings before another winter. Now, in your straightforward way + of putting things, don't imagine that Mrs. Meredith has + deliberately told me all this, for she has not, but I understand + her perfectly, and know exactly what she expects me to do. + Whether I do or not depends partly upon how I like Miss Anna, + partly upon how she likes me, and partly upon yourself. + + "Now, Arthur, you know, I was always famous for presentiments or + fancies, as you termed them, and the latest of these is that you + like Anna Ruthven. Do you? Tell me, honor bright, and by the + memory of the many scrapes you got me out of, and the many more + you kept me from getting into, I will treat Miss Anna as gingerly + and brotherly as if she was already your wife. I like her + picture, which I have seen, and believe I shall like the girl, + but if you say that by looking at her with longing eyes I shall + be guilty of breaking some one of the ten commandments--I don't + know which--why, then, hands off at once. That's fair, and will + prove to you that, although not a parson like yourself, there is + still a spark of honor, if not of goodness, in the breast of + + "Yours truly, + "THORNTON HASTINGS. + + "If you were here this afternoon, I'd take you to drive after a + pair of bays which are to sweep the stakes at Saratoga this + summer, and I'd treat you to a finer cigar than often finds its + way to Hanover. Shall I send you out a box, or would your people + pull down the church about the ears of a minister wicked enough + to smoke? Again adieu. + + "T. H." + +There was a half-amused smile on the face of the rector as he +finished the letter, so like its thoughtless, lighthearted writer, and +wondered what the Widow Rider, across the way, would say of a +clergyman who smoked cigars and rode after a race-horse with such a +gay scapegrace as Thornton Hastings. Then the amused look passed away, +and was succeeded by a shadow of pain as the rector remembered the +real import of Thornton's letter, and felt that he had no right to +say, "I have a claim on Anna Ruthven; you must not interfere." For he +had no claim on her, though half his parishioners, and many outside +his parish, had long ago given her to him, and said that she was +worthy; while he had loved her, as only natures like his can love, +since that week before Christmas, when their hands had met with a +strange, tremulous flutter, as together they fastened the wreaths of +evergreen upon the wall, he holding them up and she driving the +refractory tacks, which would keep falling in spite of her, so that +his hand went often from the carpet or basin to hers, and once +accidentally closed almost entirely over the little, soft, white +thing, which felt so warm to his touch. + +How prettily Anna had looked to him during those memorable days, so +much prettier than the other young girls of his flock, whose hair was +tumbled ere the day's work was done, and whose dresses were soiled and +disordered; while here was always so tidy and neat and the braids of +her chestnut hair were always so smooth and bright. How well, too, he +remembered that brief ten minutes, when, in the dusky twilight which +had crept so early into the church, he stood alone with her, and +talked, he did not know of what, only that he heard her voice replying +to him, and saw the changeful color on her cheek as she looked +modestly in his face. That was a week of delicious happiness, and the +rector had lived it over many times, wondering if, when the next +Christmas came, it would find him any nearer to Anna Ruthven than the +last had left him. + +"It must," he suddenly exclaimed. "The matter shall be settled before +she leaves Hanover with this Mrs. Meredith. My claim is superior to +Thornton's, and he shall not take her from me. I'll write what I lack +the courage to tell her, and to-morrow I will call and deliver it +myself." + +An hour later, and there was lying in the rector's desk a letter in +which he had told Anna Ruthven how much he loved her, and had asked +her to be his wife. Something whispered that she would not refuse him, +and with this hope to buoy him up, his two miles walk that warm +afternoon was neither long nor tiresome, and the old lady, by whose +bedside he had read and prayed, was surprised to hear him as he left +her door whistling an old love-tune which she, too, had known and sung +fifty years before. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +SATURDAY AFTERNOON. + + +Mrs. Julia Meredith had arrived, and the brown farmhouse was in a +state of unusual excitement; not that Captain Humphreys or his good +wife, Aunt Ruth, respected very highly the great lady who had so +seldom honored them with her presence, and who always tried so hard to +impress them with a sense of her superiority and the mighty favor she +conferred upon them by occasionally condescending to bring her +aristocratic presence into their quiet, plain household, and turn it +topsy-turvy. Still, she was Anna's aunt, and then, too, it was a +distinction which Aunt Ruth rather enjoyed, that of having a +fashionable city woman for her guest, and so she submitted with a good +grace to the breaking in upon all her customs, and uttered no word of +complaint when the breakfast table waited till eight, and sometimes +nine o'clock, and the freshest eggs were taken from the nest, and the +cream all skimmed from the pans to gratify the lady who came down very +charming and pretty in her handsome cambric wrapper, with rosebuds in +her hair. She had arrived the previous night, and while the rector was +penning his letter she was holding Anna's hand in hers, and, running +her eye rapidly over her face and form, was making an inventory of her +charms and calculating their value. + +A very graceful figure, neither too short nor too tall. This she gets +from the Ruthvens. Splendid eyes and magnificent hair, when Valencia +has once taken it in hand. Complexion a little too brilliant, but a +few weeks of dissipation will cure that. Fine teeth, and features +tolerably regular, except that the mouth is too wide, and the forehead +too low, which defects she takes from the Humphreys. Small feet and +rather pretty hands, except that they seem to have grown wide since I +saw her before. Can it be these horrid people have set her to milking +the cows? + +This was what Mrs. Meredith thought that first evening after her +arrival at the farmhouse, and she had not materially changed her mind +when the next afternoon she went with Anna down to the Glen, for which +she affected a great fondness, because she thought it was romantic and +girlish to do so, and she was far being past the period when women +cease caring for youth and its appurtenances. She had criticised +Anna's taste in dress--had said that the belt she selected did not +harmonize with the color of the muslin she wore, and suggested that a +frill of lace about the neck would be softer and more becoming than +the stiff white linen collar. + +"But in the country it does not matter," she said. "Wait till I get +you to New York, under Madam Blank's supervision, and then we shall +see a transformation such as will astonish the humble Hanoverians." + +This was up in Anna's room, and when the Glen was reached Mrs. +Meredith continued the conversation, telling Anna of her plans for +taking her first to New York, where she was to pass through a +reformatory process with regard to dress. Then they were going to +Saratoga, where she expected her niece to reign supreme; both as a +beauty and a belle. + +"Whatever I have left at my death I shall leave to you," she said; +"consequently you will pass as an heiress expectant, and with all +these aids I confidently expect you to make a brilliant match before +the winter season closes, if, indeed, you do not before you leave +Saratoga." + +"Oh, aunt," Anna exclaimed, her brown eyes flashing with unwonted +brilliancy, and the rich color mantling her cheek. "You surely are not +taking me to Saratoga on such a shameful errand as that?" + +"Shameful errand as what?" Mrs. Meredith asked, looking quickly up, +while Anna replied: + +"Trying to find a husband. I cannot go if you are, much as I have +anticipated it. I should despise and hate myself forever. No, aunt, I +cannot go." + +"Nonsense, child. You don't know what you are saying," Mrs. Meredith +retorted, feeling intuitively that she must change her tactics and +keep her real intentions concealed if she would lead her niece into +the snare laid for her. + +Cunningly and carefully for the next half hour she talked, telling +Anna that she was not to be thrust upon the notice of any one--that +she herself had no patience with those intriguing mammas who push +their bold daughters forward, but that as a good marriage was the +_ultima thule_ of a woman's hopes, it was but natural that she, as +Anna's aunt, should wish to see her well settled in life, and settled, +too, near herself, where they could see each other every day. + +"Of course, there is no one in Hanover whom you, as a Ruthven, would +stoop to marry," she said, fixing her eyes inquiringly upon Anna, who +was pulling to pieces the wild flowers she had gathered, and thinking +of that twilight hour when she had talked with their young clergyman +as she never talked before. Of the many times, too, when they had met +in the cottages of the poor, and he had walked slowly home with her, +lingering by the gate, as if loth to say good-by, she thought, and the +life she had lived since he first came to Hanover, and she learned to +blush when she met the glance of his eye, looked fairer far than the +life her aunt, had marked out as the proper one for a Ruthven. + +"You have not told me yet. Is there any one in Hanover whom you think +worthy of you?" Mrs. Meredith asked, just as a footstep was heard, and +the rector of St. Mark's came round the rock where they were sitting. + +He had called at the farmhouse, bringing the letter, and with it a +book of poetry, of which Anna had asked the loan. + +Taking advantage of her guest's absence, Grandma Humphreys had gone to +a neighbor's after a recipe for making a certain kind of cake of which +Mrs. Meredith was very fond, and only Esther, the servant, and +Valencia, the smart waiting maid, without whom Mrs. Meredith never +traveled, were left in charge. + +"Down in the Glen with Mrs. Meredith. Will you be pleased to wait +while I call them?" Esther said, in reply to the rector's inquiries +for Miss Ruthven. + +"No, I will find them myself," Mr. Leighton rejoined. Then, as he +thought how impossible it would be to give the letter to Anna in the +presence of her aunt, he slipped it into the book which he bade Esther +take to Miss Ruthven's room. + +Knowing how honest and faithful Esther was, the rector felt that he +could trust her without fear for the safety of his letter, sought the +Glen, where the tell-tale blushes which burned on Anna's cheek at +sight of him more than compensated for the coolness with which Mrs. +Meredith greeted him. She, too, had detected Anna's embarrassment, and +when the stranger was presented to her as "Mr. Leighton, our +clergyman," the secret was out. + +"Why is it that since the beginning of time girls have run wild after +young ministers?" was her mental comment, as she bowed to Mr. +Leighton, and then quietly inspected his _personnel_. + +There was nothing about Arthur Leighton's appearance with which she +could find fault. He was even finer looking than Thornton Hastings, +her _beau ideal_ of a man, and as he stood a moment by Anna's side, +looking down upon her, the woman of the world acknowledged to herself +that they were a well-assorted pair, and as across the chasm of twenty +years there came back to her an episode in her life, when, on just +such a day as this, she had answered "no" to one as young and worthy +as Arthur Leighton, while all the time the heart was clinging to him, +she softened for a moment, and by the memory of the weary years passed +with the rich old man whose name she bore, she was tempted to leave +alone the couple standing there before her, and looking into each +other's eyes with a look which she could not mistake. But when she +remembered that Arthur was only a poor clergyman, and thought of that +house on Madison Square which Thornton Hastings owned, the softened +mood was changed, and Arthur Leighton's chance with her was gone. + +Awhile they talked together in the Glen, and then walked back to the +farmhouse, where the rector bade them good evening, after casually +saying to Anna: + +"I have brought the book you spoke of when I was here last. You will +find it in your room, where I asked Esther to take it." + +That Mr. Leighton should bring her niece a book did not seem strange +at all, but that he should be so very thoughtful as to tell Esther to +take it to her room struck her as rather odd, and as the practiced +war-horse scents the battle from afar, so Mrs. Meredith at once +suspected something wrong, and felt a curiosity to know what the book +could be. + +It was lying on Anna's table as she reached the door on her way to her +own room, and, pausing for a moment, she entered the chamber, took it +in her hands, read the title page, and then opened it to where the +letter lay. + +"Miss Anna Ruthven," she said. "He writes a fair hand;" and then, as +the thought, which at first was scarce a thought, kept growing in her +mind, she turned it over, and found that, owing to some defect, it had +become unsealed and the lid of the envelope lay temptingly open before +her. "I would never break a seal," she said, "but surely, as her +protector and almost mother, I may read what this minister has written +to my niece." + +She read what he had written, while a scowl of disapprobation marred +the smoothness of her brow. + +"It is as I feared. Once let her see this, and Thornton Hastings may +woo in vain. But it shall not be. It is my duty as the sister of her +dead father, to interfere and not let her throw herself away." + +Perhaps Mrs. Meredith really felt that she was doing her duty. At all +events, she did not give herself much time to reason upon the matter, +for, startled by a slight movement in the room directly opposite, the +door of which was ajar, she thrust the letter into her pocket and +turned to see--Valencia, standing with her back to her, and arranging +her hair in a mirror which hung upon the wall. + +"She could not have seen me; and, even if she did, she would not +suspect the truth," was the guilty woman's thought, as, with the +stolen missive in her pocket, she went down to the parlor and tried, +by petting Anna more than her wont, to still the voice of conscience +which clamored loudly of the wrong, and urged a restoration of the +letter to the place whence it was taken. + +But the golden moment fled, and when, later in the evening, Anna went +up to her chamber and opened the book which the rector had brought, +she never suspected how near she had been to the great happiness she +had sometimes dared to hope for, or dreamed how fervently Arthur +Leighton prayed that night that, if it were possible, God would grant +the boon he craved above all others--the priceless gift of Anna +Ruthven's love. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +SUNDAY. + + +There was an unnatural flush on the rector's face, and his lips were +very white when he came before his people that Sunday morning, for he +felt that he was approaching the crisis of his fate; that he had only +to look across the row of heads up to where Anna sat, and he should +know the truth. Such thoughts savored far too much of the world which +he had renounced, he knew, and he had striven to banish them from his +mind; but they were there still, and would be there until he had +glanced once at Anna, occupying her accustomed seat, and quietly +turning to the chant she was so soon to sing: "Oh, come, let us sing +unto the Lord; let us heartily rejoice in the strength of His +salvation." The words echoed through the house, filling it with rare +melody, for Anna was in perfect tone that morning, and the rector, +listening to her with hands folded upon his prayer-book, felt that she +could not thus "heartily rejoice," meaning all the while to darken his +whole life, as she surely would if she told him "no." He was looking +at her now, and she met his eyes at last, but quickly dropped her own, +while he was sure that the roses burned a little brighter on her +cheek, and that her voice trembled just enough to give him hope, and +help him in his fierce struggle to cast her from his mind and think +only of the solemn services in which he was engaging. He could not +guess that the proud woman who had sailed so majestically into church, +and followed so reverently every prescribed form, bowing in the creed +far lower than ever bow was made before in Hanover, had played him +false and was the dark shadow in his path. + +That day was a trying one for Arthur, for, just as the chant was ended +and the psalter was beginning, a handsome carriage dashed up to the +door, and, had he been wholly blind, he would have known, by the +sudden sound of turning heads and the suppressed hush which ensued, +that a perfect hailstorm of dignity was entering St. Mark's. + +It was the Hethertons, from Prospect Hill, whose arrival in town had +been so long expected. Mrs. Hetherton, who, more years ago than she +cared to remember, was born in Hanover, but who had lived most of her +life either in Paris, New York or New Orleans and who this year had +decided to fit up her father's old place, and honor it with her +presence for a few weeks at least; also, Fanny Hetherton, a brilliant +brunette, into whose intensely black eyes no one could long look, they +were so bright, so piercing, and seemed so thoroughly to read one's +inmost thoughts; also, Colonel Hetherton, who had served in the +Mexican war, and, retiring on the glory of having once led a forlorn +hope, now obtained his living by acting as attendant on his +fashionable wife and daughter; also, young Dr. Simon Bellamy who, +while obedient to the flashing of Miss Fanny's black eyes, still found +stolen opportunities for glancing at the fifth and last remaining +member of the party, filing up the aisle to the large, square pew, +where old Judge Howard used to sit, and which was still owned by his +daughter. Mrs. Hetherton liked being late at church, and so, +notwithstanding that the Colonel had worked himself into a tempest of +excitement, had tied and untied her bonnet-strings half a dozen times, +changed her rich basquine for a thread lace mantilla, and then, just +as the bell from St. Mark's gave forth its last note, and her +husband's impatience was oozing out in sundry little oaths, sworn +under his breath, she produced and fitted on her fat, white hands a +new pair of Alexander's, keeping herself as cool, and quiet, and +ladylike as if outside upon the graveled walk there was no wrathful +husband threatening to drive off and leave her, if she did not "quit +her cussed vanity, and come along." + +Such was the Hetherton party, and they created quite as great a +sensation as Mrs. Hetherton could desire, first upon the commoners, +the people nearest the door, who rented the cheaper pews; then upon +those farther up the aisle, and then upon Mrs. Meredith, who, +attracted by the rustling of heavy silk and aristocratic perfume +emanating from Mrs. Hetherton's handkerchief, slightly turned her head +at first, and, as the party swept by, stopped her reading entirely and +involuntarily started forward, while a smile of pleasure flitted +across her face as Fanny's black, saucy eyes took her, with others, +within their range of vision, and Fanny's black head nodded a quick +nod of recognition. The Hethertons and Mrs. Meredith were evidently +friends, and in her wonder at seeing them there, in stupid Hanover, +the great lady forgot for a while to read, but kept her eyes upon them +all, especially upon the fifth and last mentioned member of the party, +the graceful little blonde, whose eyes might have caught their hue +from the deep blue of the summer sky, and whose long, silken curls +fell in a golden shower beneath the fanciful French hat. She was a +beautiful young creature, and even Anna Ruthven leaned forward to look +at her as she shook out her airy muslin and dropped into her seat. For +a moment the little coquettish head bowed reverently, but at the first +sound of the rector's voice it lifted itself up quickly, and Anna saw +the bright color which rushed into her cheeks and the eager joy which +danced in the blue eyes, fixed so earnestly upon the rector, who, at +sight of her, started suddenly and paused an instant in his reading. +Who was she, and what was she to Arthur Leighton? Anna asked herself, +while, by the fierce pang which shot through her heart, as she watched +the stranger and the clergyman, she knew that she loved the rector of +St. Mark's, even if she doubted it before. + +Anna was not an ill-tempered girl, but the sight of those gay city +people annoyed her, and when, at she sang the Jubilate Deo, she saw +the soft blue orbs of the blonde and the coal-black eyes of the +brunette, turning wonderingly toward her, she was conscious of +returning their glance with as much of scorn as it was possible for +her to show. Anna tried to ask forgiveness for that feeling in the +prayers which followed; but, when the services were over, and she saw +a little figure in blue and white flitting up the aisle to where +Arthur, still in his robes, stood waiting for her, an expression upon +his face which she could not define, she felt that she had prayed in +vain; and, with a bitterness she had never before experienced, she +watched the meeting between them, growing more and more bitter as she +saw the upturned face, the wreathing of the rosebud lips into the +sweetest of smiles, and the tiny white hand, which Arthur took and +held while he spoke words she would have given much to hear. + +"Why do I care? It's nothing to me," she thought, and, with a proud +step, she was leaving the church, when her aunt, who was shaking hands +with the Hethertons, signed for her to join her. + +The blonde was now coming down the aisle with Mr. Leighton, and +joined the group just as Anna was introduced as "My niece, Miss Anna +Ruthven." + +"Oh, you are the Anna of whom I have heard so much from Ada Fuller. +You were at school together in Troy," Miss Fanny said, her searching +eyes taking in every point as if she were deciding how far her new +acquaintance was entitled to the praise she had heard bestowed upon +her. + +"I know Miss Fuller--yes;" and Anna bowed haughtily, turning next to +the blonde, Miss Lucy Harcourt, who was telling Colonel Hetherton how +she had met Mr. Leighton first among the Alps, and afterwards traveled +with him until the party returned to Paris, where he left them for +America. + +"I was never so surprised in my life as I was to find him here. Why, +it actually took my breath for a moment," she went on, "and I greatly +fear that, instead of listening to his sermon, I have been roaming +amid that Alpine scenery and basking again in the soft moonlight of +Venice. I heard you singing, though," she said, when Anna was +presented to her, "and it helped to keep up the illusion--it was so +like the music heard from a gondola that night, when Mr. Leighton and +myself made a voyage through the streets of Venice. Oh, it was so +beautiful," and the blue eyes turned to Mr. Leighton for confirmation +of what the lips had uttered. + +"Which was beautiful?--Miss Ruthven's singing or that moonlight night +in Venice?" young Bellamy asked, smiling down upon the little lady who +still held Anna's hand, and who laughingly replied: + +"Both, of course, though the singing is just now freshest in my +memory. I like it so much. You must have had splendid teachers," and +she turned again to Anna, whose face was suffused with blushes as she +met the rector's eyes, for to his suggestions and criticisms and +teachings she owed much of that cultivation which had so pleased and +surprised the stranger. + +"Oh, yes, I see it was Arthur. He tried to train me once, and told me +I had a squeak in my voice. Don't you remember?--those frightfully +rainy days in Rome?" Miss Harcourt said, the Arthur dropping from her +lips as readily as if they had always been accustomed to speak it. + +She was a talkative, coquettish little lady, but there was something +about her so genuine and cordial, that Anna felt the ice thawing +around her heart, and even returned the pressure of the snowy fingers +which had twined themselves around her, as Lucy rattled on until the +whole party left the church. It had been decided that Mrs. Meredith +should call at Prospect Hill as early as Tuesday, at least; and, still +holding Anna's hand Miss Harcourt whispered to her the pleasure it +would be to see her again. + +"I know I am going to like you. I can tell directly I can see a +person--can't I Arthur?" and, kissing her hand to Mrs. Meredith, Anna, +and the rector, too, she sprang into the carriage, and was whirled +rapidly away. + +"Who is she?" Anna asked, and Mr. Leighton replied: + +"She is an orphan niece of Colonel Hetherton's, and a great heiress, I +believe, though I never paid much attention to the absurd stories told +concerning her wealth." + +"You met in Europe?" Mrs. Meredith said, and he replied: + +"Yes, she has been quite an invalid, and has spent four years abroad, +where I accidentally met her. It was a very pleasant party, and I was +induced to join it, though I was with them in all not more than four +months." + +He told this very rapidly, and an acute observer would have seen that +he did not care particularly to talk of Lucy Harcourt, with Anna for +an auditor. She was walking very demurely at his side, pondering in +her mind the circumstances which could have brought the rector and +Lucy Harcourt into such familiar relations as to warrant her calling +him Arthur and appear so delighted to see him. + +"Can it be there was anything between them?" she thought, and her +heart began to harden against the innocent Lucy, at that very moment +chatting so pleasantly of her and of Arthur, too, replying to Mrs. +Hetherton, who suggested that Mr. Leighton would be more appropriate +for a clergyman. + +"I shall say Arthur, for he told me I might that time we were in Rome. +I could not like him as well if I called him Mr. Leighton. Isn't he +splendid, though, in his gown, and wasn't his sermon grand?" + +"What was the text?" asked Dr. Bellamy, mischievously, and, with a +toss of her golden curls and a merry twinkle of her eyes, Lucy +replied, "Simon, Simon, lovest thou me?" + +Quick as a flash of lightning the hot blood mounted to the doctor's +face, while Fanny cast upon him a searching glance as if she would +read him through. Fanny Hetherton would have given much to know the +answer which Dr. Simon Bellamy mentally gave to that question, put by +one whom he had known but little more than three months. It was not +fair for Lucy to steal away all Fanny's beaux, as she surely had been +doing ever since her feet touched the soil of the New World, and truth +to tell, Fanny had borne it very well, until young Dr. Bellamy showed +signs of desertion. Then the spirit of resistance was roused, and she +watched her lover narrowly, gnashing her teeth sometimes when she saw +his ill-concealed admiration for her sprightly little cousin, who +could say and do with perfect impunity so many things which in another +would have been improper to the last degree. She was a tolerably +correct reader of human nature, and, from the moment she witnessed the +meeting between Lucy and the rector of St. Marks, she took courage, +for she readily guessed the channel in which her cousin's preference +ran. The rector, however, she could not read so well; but few men she +knew could withstand the fascinations of her cousin, backed as they +were, by the glamour of half a million; and, though her mother, and, +possibly, her father, too, would be shocked at the _mésalliance_ and +throw obstacles in the way, she was capable of removing them all, and +she would do it, too, sooner than lose the only man she had ever cared +for. These were Fanny's thoughts as she rode home from church that +Sunday afternoon, and, by the time Prospect Hill was reached, Lucy +Harcourt could not have desired a more powerful ally than she +possessed in the person of her resolute, strong-willed cousin. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +BLUE MONDAY. + + +It was to all intents and purposes "blue Monday" with the rector of +St. Mark's, for, aside from the weariness and exhaustion which always +followed his two services on Sunday, and his care of the Sunday +school, there was a feeling of disquiet and depression, occasioned +partly by that _rencontre_ with pretty Lucy Harcourt, and partly by +the uncertainty as to what Anna's answer might be. He had seen the +look of displeasure on her face as she stood watching him and Lucy, +and though to many this would have given hope, it only added to his +nervous fears lest his suit should be denied. He was sorry that Lucy +Harcourt was in the neighborhood, and sorrier still for her tenacious +memory, which had evidently treasured up every incident which he could +wish forgotten. With Anna Ruthven absorbing every thought and feeling +of his heart, it was not pleasant to remember what had been a genuine +flirtation between himself and the sparkling belle he had met among +the Alps. + +It was nothing but a flirtation, he knew, for in his inmost soul he +absolved himself from ever having had a thought of matrimony connected +with Lucy Harcourt. He had admired her greatly and loved to wander +with her amid the Alpine scenery, listening to her wild bursts of +enthusiasm, and watching the kindling light in her blue eyes, and the +color coming to her thin, pale cheeks, as she gazed upon some scene of +grandeur, nestling close to him as for protection, when the path was +fraught with peril. + +Afterwards, in Venice, beneath the influence of those glorious +moonlight nights, he had been conscious of a deeper feeling which, had +he tarried longer at the siren's side, might have ripened into love. +But he left her in time to escape what he felt would have been a most +unfortunate affair for him, for, sweet and beautiful as she was, Lucy +was not the wife for a clergyman to choose. She was not like Anna +Ruthven, whom both young and old had said was so suitable for him. + +"And just because she is suitable, I may not win her, perhaps," he +thought, as he paced up and down his library, wondering when she would +answer his letter, and wondering next how he could persuade Lucy +Harcourt that between the young theological student, sailing in a +gondola through the streets of Venice, and the rector of St. Mark's, +there was a vast difference; that while the former might be Arthur +with perfect propriety, the latter should be Mr. Leighton, in Anna's +presence, at least. + +And yet the rector of St. Mark's was conscious of a pleasurable +emotion, even now, as he recalled the time when she had, at his own +request, first called him Arthur, her bird-like voice hesitating just +a little, and her soft eyes looking coyly up to him, as she said: + +"I am afraid that Arthur is hardly the name by which to call a +clergyman." + +"I am not in orders yet, so let me be Arthur to you. I love to hear +you call me so, and you to me shall be Lucy," was his reply. + +A mutual clasp of hands had sealed the compact, and that was the +nearest to love-making of anything which had passed between them, if +we except the time when he had said good-by, and wiped away a tear +which came unbidden to her eye as she told him how lonely she would be +without him. + +Hers was a nature as transparent as glass, and the young man, who for +days had paced the ship's deck so moodily, was fighting back the +thoughts which had whispered that in his intercourse with her he had +not been all guiltless, and that if in her girlish heart there was a +feeling for him stronger than that of friendship he had helped to give +it life. + +Time and absence and Anna Ruthven had obliterated all such thoughts +till now, when Lucy herself had brought them back again with her +winsome ways, and her evident intention to begin just where they had +left off. + +"Let Anna tell me yes, and I will at once proclaim our engagement, +which will relieve me from all embarrassments in that quarter," the +clergyman was thinking, just as his housekeeper came up, bringing him +two notes--one in a strange handwriting, and the other in the +graceful, running hand which he recognized as Lucy Harcourt's. + +This he opened first, reading as follows: + + Prospect Hill, June--. + + "MR. LEIGHTON: Dear Sir--Cousin Fanny is to have a picnic down + in the west woods to-morrow afternoon, and she requests the + pleasure of your presence. Mrs. Meredith and Miss Ruthven are to + be invited. Do come. + "Yours truly, + "LUCY." + +Yes, he would go, and if Anna's answer had not come before, he would +ask her for it. There would be plenty of opportunities down in those +deep woods. On the whole, it would be pleasanter to hear the answer +from her own lips, and see the blushes on her cheeks when he tried to +look into her eyes. + +The imaginative rector could almost see those eyes, and feel the touch +of her hand as he took the other note--the one which Mrs. Meredith had +shut herself in her bedroom to write, and sent slyly by Valencia, who +was to tell no one where she had been. + +A gleam of intelligence shot from Valencia's eyes as she took the note +and carried it safely to the parsonage, never yielding to the +temptation to read it, just as she had read the one abstracted from +the book, returning it when read to her mistress's pocket, where she +had found it while the family were at church. + +Mrs. Meredith's note was as follows: + + "MY DEAR MR. LEIGHTON: It is my niece's wish that I answer the + letter you were so kind as to inclose in the book left for her + last Saturday. She desires me to say that, though she has a very + great regard for you as her clergyman and friend, she cannot be + your wife, and she regrets exceedingly if she has in any way led + you to construe the interest she has always manifested in you + into a deeper feeling. + + "She begs me to say that it gives her great pain to refuse one so + noble and good as she knows you to be, and she only does it + because she cannot find in her heart the love without which no + marriage can be happy. + + "She is really very wretched about it, because she fears she may + lose your friendship, and, as a proof that she has not, she asks + that the subject may never in any way, be alluded to again; that + when you meet it may be exactly as heretofore, without a word or + sign on your part that ever you offered her the highest honor a + man can offer a woman. + + "And sure I am, my dear Mr. Leighton, that you will accede to her + wishes. I am very sorry it has occurred, sorry for you both, and + especially sorry for you; but, believe me, you will get over it + in time and come to see that my niece is not a proper person to + be a clergyman's wife. + + "Come and see us as usual. You will find Anna appearing very + natural. + + "Yours cordially and sincerely, + "JULIE MEREDITH." + +This was the letter which the cruel woman had written, and it dropped +from the rector's nerveless fingers as, with a groan, he bent his head +upon the back of a chair, and tried to realize the magnitude of the +blow which had fallen so suddenly upon him. Not till now did he +realize how, amid all his doubts, he had still been sure of winning +her, and the shock was terrible. + +He had staked his all on Anna, and lost all; the world, which before +had been so bright, looked very dreary now, while he felt that he +could never again come before his people weighed down with so great a +load of pain and humiliation: for it touched the young man's pride +that, not content to refuse him, Anna had chosen another than herself +as the medium through which her refusal must be conveyed to him. He +did not fancy Mrs. Meredith. He would rather she did not possess his +secret, and it hurt him cruelly to know that she did. + +It was a bitter hour for the clergyman, for, strong and clear as was +his faith in God, who doeth all things well, he lost sight of it for a +time, and poor weak human nature cried: + +"It's more than I can bear." + +But as the mother does not forget her child, even though she passes +from her sight, so God had not forgotten, and the darkness broke at +last--the lips could pray again for strength to bear and faith to do +all that God might require. + +"Though He slay me I will trust Him," came like a ray of sunlight +into the rector's mind, and ere the day was over he could say with a +full heart, "Thy will be done." + +He was very pale, and his lip quivered occasionally as he thought of +all he had lost, while a blinding headache, induced by strong +excitement, drove him nearly wild with pain. He had been subject to +headaches all his life, but he had never suffered as he was suffering +now but once, and that was on a rainy day in Rome, when, boasting of +her mesmeric power, Lucy had stood by him, and passed her dimpled +hands soothingly across his throbbing temples. + +Those little hands, how soft and cool they were--but they had not +thrilled him as the touch of Anna's did when they hung the Christmas +wreaths and she wore that bunch of scarlet berries in her hair. + +That time seemed very far away, farther even than Rome and the +moonlight nights of Venice. He did not like to think of it, for the +bright hopes which were budding then were blighted now and dead; and, +with a moan, he laid his aching head upon his pillow and tried to +forget all he had ever hoped or longed for in the future. + +"She will marry Thornton Hastings. He is a more eligible match than a +poor clergyman," he said, and then, as he remembered Thornton's +letter, and that his man Thomas would be coming soon to ask if there +were letters to be taken to the office, he arose, and, going to the +study table, wrote hastily: + + "DEAR THORNE: I am suffering from one of those horrid headaches + which used to make me as weak as a helpless woman, but I will + write just enough to say that I have no claim on Anna Ruthven, + and you are free to press your suit as urgently as you please. + She is a noble girl, worthy even to be Mrs. Thornton Hastings, + and if I cannot have her, I would rather give her to you than any + one I know. Only don't ask me to perform the ceremony. + + "There, I've let the secret out; but no matter, I have always + confided in you, and so I may as well confess that I have offered + myself and been refused. Yours truly, + + "ARTHUR LEIGHTON." + +The rector felt better after that letter was written. He had told his +grievance to some one, and it seemed to have lightened half. + +"Thorne is a good fellow," he said, as he directed the letter. "A +little fast, it's true, but a splendid fellow, after all. He will +sympathize with me in his way, and I would rather give Anna to him +than any other living man." + +Arthur was serious in what he said, for, wholly unlike as they were, +there was between him and Thornton Hastings one of those strong, +peculiar friendships which sometimes exist between two men, but rarely +between two women, of so widely different temperaments. They had +roomed together four years in college, and countless were the +difficulties from which the sober Arthur had extricated the luckless +Thorne, while many a time the rather slender means of Arthur had been +increased in a way so delicate that expostulation was next to +impossible. + +Arthur was better off now in worldly goods, for, by the death of an +uncle, he had come in possession of a few thousand dollars, which +enabled him to travel in Europe for a year, and left a surplus, from +which he had fed the poor and needy with not sparing hand. + +St. Mark's was his first parish, and, though he could have chosen one +nearer to New York, where the society was more congenial to his taste, +he had accepted what God offered to him, and been very happy there, +especially since Anna Ruthven came home from Troy and made such havoc +with his heart. He did not believe he should ever be quite so happy +again, but he would try to do his work, and take thankfully whatever +of good might come to him. + +This was his final decision, and when at last he laid him down to +rest, the wound, though deep and sore, and bleeding yet, was not quite +as hard to bear as it had been earlier in the day, when it was fresh +and raw, and faith and hope seemed swept away. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +TUESDAY. + + +That open grassy spot in the dense shadow of the west woods was just +the place for a picnic, and it looked very bright and pleasant that +warm June afternoon, with the rustic table so fancifully arranged, the +camp stools scattered over the lawn, and the bouquets of flowers +depending from the trees. + +Fanny Hetherton had given it her whole care, aided and abetted by Dr. +Bellamy, what time he could spare from Lucy, who, imbued with a mortal +fear of insects, seemed this day to gather scores of bugs and worms +upon her dress and hair, screaming with every worm and bringing the +doctor obediently to her aid. + +"I'd stay at home, I think, if I was silly enough to be afraid of a +harmless caterpillar like that," Fanny had said, as with her own hands +she took from Lucy's curls and threw away a thousand-legged thing, the +very sight of which made poor Lucy shiver but did not send her to the +house. + +She was too much interested and too eagerly expectant of what the +afternoon would bring, and so she perched herself upon the fence where +nothing but ants could molest her, and finished the bouquets which +Fanny hung upon the trees until the lower limbs seemed one mass of +blossoms and the air was filled with the sweet perfume. + +Lucy was bewitchingly beautiful that afternoon in her dress of white, +her curls tied up with a blue ribbon, and her fair arms bare nearly to +the shoulders. Fanny, whose arms were neither plump nor white, had +expostulated with her cousin upon this style of dress, suggesting that +one as delicate as she could not fail to take a heavy cold when the +dews began to fall, but Lucy would not listen. Arthur Leighton had +told her once that he liked her with bare arms, and bare they should +be. She was bending every energy to please and captivate him, and a +cold was of no consequence provided she succeeded. So, like some +little fairy, she danced and flitted about, making fearful havoc with +Dr. Bellamy's wits and greatly vexing Fanny, who hailed with delight +the arrival of Mrs. Meredith and Anna. The latter was very pretty and +very becomingly attired in a light airy dress of blue, finished at the +throat and wrists with an edge of soft, fine lace. She, too, had +thought of Arthur in the making of her toilet, and it was for him that +the white rosebuds were placed in her heavy braids of hair and +fastened on her belt. She was very sorry that she had allowed herself +to be vexed with Lucy Harcourt for her familiarity with Mr. Leighton, +very hopeful that he had not observed it, and very certain now of his +preference for herself. She would be very gracious that afternoon, she +thought, and not one bit jealous of Lucy, though she called him Arthur +a hundred times. + +Thus it was in the most amiable of moods that Anna appeared upon the +lawn, where she was warmly welcomed by Lucy, who, seizing both her +hands, led her away to see the arrangements, chatting gayly all the +time, and casting rapid glances up the lane, as if in quest of some +one. + +"I'm so glad you've come. I've thought of you so much. Do you know it +seems to me there must be some bond of sympathy between us, or I +should not like you so well at once? I drove by the rectory early this +morning--the dearest little place, with such a lovely garden. Arthur +was working in it, and I made him give me some roses. See, I have one +in my curls. Then, when he brought them to the carriage, I kept him +there while I asked numberless questions about you, and heard from him +just how good you are, and how you help him in the Sunday-school and +everywhere, visiting the poor, picking up ragged children and doing +things I never thought of doing; but I am not going to be so useless +any longer, and the next time you visit some of the very miserablest I +want you to take me with you. Do you ever meet Arthur there? Oh, here +he comes," and with a bound, Lucy darted away from Anna toward the +spot where the rector stood receiving Mrs. and Miss Hetherton's +greeting. + +As Lucy had said, she had driven by the rectory, with no earthly +object but the hope of seeing the rector, and had hurt him cruelly +with her questionings of Anna, and annoyed him a little with her +anxious inquiries as to the cause of his pallid face and sunken eyes; +but she was so bewitchingly pretty, and so thoroughly kind withal, +that he could not be annoyed long, and he felt better for having seen +her bright, coquettish face, and listened to her childish prattle. It +was a great trial for him to attend the picnic that afternoon, but he +met it bravely, and schooled himself to appear as if there were no +such things in the world as aching hearts and cruel disappointments. +His face was very pale, but his recent headache would account for +that, and he acted his part successfully, shivering a little, it is +true, when Anna expressed her sorrow that he should suffer so often +from these attacks, and suggested that he take a short vacation and go +with them to Saratoga. + +"I should so much like to have you," she said, and her clear, honest +eyes looked him straight in the face, as she asked why he could not. + +"What does she mean?" the rector thought. "Is she trying to tantalize +me? I expected her to be natural, as her aunt laid great stress on +that, but she need not overdo the matter by showing me how little she +cares for having hurt me so." + +Then, as a flash of pride came to his aid, he thought, "I will at +least be even with her. She shall not have the satisfaction of +guessing how much I suffer," and as Lucy then called to him from the +opposite side of the lawn, he asked Anna to accompany him thither, +just as he would have done a week before. Once that afternoon he found +himself alone with her in a quiet part of the woods, where the long +branches of a great oak came nearly to the ground, and formed a little +bower which looked so inviting that Anna sat down upon the gnarled +roots of the tree, and, tossing her hat upon the grass, exclaimed, +"How nice and pleasant it is here. Come, sit down, too, while I tell +you about my class in Sunday-school, and that poor Mrs. Hobbs across +the mill stream. You won't forget her, will you? I told her you would +visit her the oftener when I was gone. Do you know she cried because I +was going? It made me feel so badly that I doubted if it was right for +me to go," and, pulling down a handful of the oak leaves above her +head, Anna began weaving together a chaplet, while the rector stood +watching her with a puzzled expression upon his face. She did not act +as if she ever could have dictated that letter, but he had no +suspicion of the truth and answered rather coldly, "I did not suppose +you cared how much we might miss you at home." + +Something in his tone made Anna look up into his face, and her eyes +immediately filled with tears, for she knew that in some way she had +displeased him. + +"Then you mistake me," she replied, the tears still glittering on her +long eyelashes, and her fingers trembling among the oaken leaves. "I +do care whether I am missed or not." + +"Missed by whom?" the rector asked, and Anna impetuously replied, +"Missed by the parish poor, and by you, too, Mr. Leighton. You don't +know how often I shall think of you, or how sorry I am that----" + +She did not finish the sentence, for the rector had leaped madly at +the conclusion, and was down in the grass at her side with both her +hands in his. + +"Anna, oh Anna," he began so pleadingly, "have you repented of your +decision? Tell me that you have and it will make me so happy. I have +been so wretched ever since." + +She thought he meant her decision about going to Saratoga, and she +replied: "I have not repented, Mr. Leighton. Aunt Meredith thinks it +best, and so do I, though I am sorry for you, if you really do care so +much." + +Anna was talking blindly, her thoughts upon one subject, while the +rector's were upon another, and matters were getting somewhat mixed +when, "Arthur, Arthur, where are you?" came ringing through the woods +and Lucy Harcourt appeared, telling them that the refreshments were +ready. + +"We are only waiting for you two, wondering where you had gone, but +never dreaming that you had stolen away to make love," she said, +playfully, adding more earnestly as she saw the traces of agitation +visible in Anna's face, "and I do believe you were. If so, I beg +pardon for my intrusion." + +She spoke a little sharply and glanced inquiringly at Mr. Leighton; +who, feeling that he had virtually been repulsed a second time by +Anna, answered her, "On the contrary, I am very glad you came, and so, +I am sure, is Miss Anna. I am ready to join you at the table. Come, +Anna, they are waiting," and he offered his arm to the bewildered +girl, who replied, "Not just now, please. Leave me for a moment. I +won't be long." + +Very curiously Lucy looked at Anna and then at Mr. Leighton, who, +fully appreciating the feelings of the latter, said, by way of +explanation: "You see, she has not quite finished that chaplet, which, +I suspect, is intended for you. I think we had better leave her," and, +drawing Lucy's hand under his own, he walked away, leaving Anna more +stunned and pained than she had ever been before. Surely if love had +ever spoken in tone and voice and manner, it had spoken when Mr. +Leighton was kneeling on the grass, holding her hands in his. "Anna, +oh, Anna!" How she had thrilled at the sound of those words and waited +for what might follow next. Why had his manner changed so suddenly, +and why had he been so glad to be interrupted? Had he really no +intention of making love to her, and if he had, why did he rouse her +hopes so suddenly and then cruelly dash them to the ground? Was it +that he loved Lucy best, and that the sight of her froze the words +upon his lips? + +"Let him take her, then. He is welcome, for all of me," she thought; +and then, as a keen pang of shame and disappointment swept over her, +she laid her head for a moment upon the grass and wept bitterly. "He +must have seen what I expected and I care most for that," she sobbed, +resolving henceforth to guard herself at every point and do all that +lay in her power to further Lucy's interests, "He will thus see how +little I really care," she thought, and, lifting up her head, she tore +in fragments the wreath she had been making, but which she could not +now place on the head of her rival. + +Mr. Leighton was flirting terribly with her when she joined the party +assembled around the table, and he never once looked at Anna, though +he saw that her plate was well supplied with the best of everything, +and when at one draught she drained her glass of ice-water, he quietly +placed another within her reach, standing a little before her and +trying evidently to shield her from too critical observation. There +were two at least who were glad when the picnic was over, and various +were the private opinions of the company with regard to the +entertainment. Dr. Bellamy, who had been repeatedly foiled in his +attempts to be especially attentive to Lucy Harcourt, pronounced the +whole thing "a bore." Fanny, who had been highly displeased with the +doctor's deportment, came to the conclusion that the enjoyment did not +compensate for all the trouble, and while the rector thought he had +never spent a more thoroughly wretched day, and Anna would have given +worlds if she had stayed at home, Lucy declared that never in her life +had she had so perfectly delightful a time, always excepting, of +course, "that moonlight sail in Venice." + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +WEDNESDAY. + + +There was a heavy shower the night succeeding the picnic and the +morning following was as balmy and bright as June mornings are wont to +be after a fall of rain. They were always early risers at the +farmhouse, but this morning Anna, who had slept but little, arose +earlier than usual and, leaning from the window to inhale the bracing +air and gather a bunch of roses fresh with the glittering raindrops, +she felt her spirits grow lighter and wondered at her discomposure of +the previous day. Particularly was she grieved that she should have +harbored a feeling of bitterness toward Lucy Harcourt, who was not to +blame for having won the love she had been foolish enough to covet. + +"He knew her first," she said, "and if he has since been pleased with +me, the sight of her has won him back to his allegiance, and it is +right. She is a pretty creature, but strangely unsuited, I fear, to be +his wife," and then, as she remembered Lucy's wish to go with her when +next she visited the poor, she said: + +"I will take her to see the Widow Hobbs. That will give her some idea +of the duties which will devolve upon her as a rector's wife. I can go +directly there from Prospect Hill, where, I suppose, I must call with +Aunt Meredith." + +Anna made herself believe that in doing this she was acting only from +a magnanimous desire to fit Lucy for her work, if, indeed, she was to +be Arthur's wife--that in taking the mantle from her own shoulders, +and wrapping it around her rival, she was doing a most amiable deed, +when down in her inmost heart, where the tempter had put it, there was +an unrecognized wish to see how the little dainty girl would shrink +from the miserable abode, and recoil from the touch of the little, +dirty hands which were sure to be laid upon her dress if the children +were at home, and she waited a little impatiently to start on her +errand of mercy. + +It was four o'clock when, with her aunt, she arrived at Colonel +Hetherton's and found the family assembled upon the broad piazza, the +doctor dutifully holding the skein of worsted from which Miss Fanny +was crocheting, and Lucy playing with a kitten, whose movements were +scarcely more graceful than her own, as she sprang up and ran to +welcome Anna. + +"Oh, yes, I am delighted to go with you. Pray let us start at once," +she exclaimed, when, after a few moments of conversation, Anna told +where she was going. + +Lucy was very gayly dressed, enough so for a party, Anna thought, +smiling to herself as she imagined the startling effect the white +muslin and bright plaid ribbons would have upon the inmates of the +shanty where they were going. There was a remonstrance from Mrs. +Hetherton against her niece's walking so far, and Mrs. Meredith +suggested that they should ride, but to this Lucy objected. She meant +to take Anna's place among the poor when she was gone, she said, and +how was she ever to do it if she could not walk such a little way as +that? Anna, too, was averse to riding and she felt a kind of grim +satisfaction when, after a time, the little figure, which at first had +skipped along ahead with all the airiness of a bird, began to lag, and +even pant for breath, as the way grew steeper and the path more stony +and rough. Anna's evil spirit was in the ascendant that afternoon, +steeling her heart against Lucy's doleful exclamations, as one after +another her delicate slippers were torn, and the sharp thistles, of +which the path was full, penetrated to her soft flesh. Straight and +unbending as a young Indian, Anna walked on, shutting her ears against +the sighs of weariness which reached them from time to time. But when +there came a half sobbing cry of actual pain, she stopped suddenly and +turned towards Lucy, whose breath came gaspingly, and whose cheeks +were almost purple with the exertion she had made. + +"I cannot go any farther until I rest," she said, sinking down, +exhausted, upon a large flat rock beneath a walnut tree. + +Touched with pity at the sight of the heated face, from which the +sweat was dripping, Anna too sat down beside her, and, laying her +curly head in her lap, smoothed the golden hair, hating herself +cordially, as Lucy said: + +"You've walked so fast I could not keep up. You do not know, perhaps, +how weak I am, and how little it takes to tire me. They say my heart +is diseased, and an unusual excitement might kill me." + +"No, oh, no!" Anna answered with a shudder, as she thought of what +might have been the result of her rashness, and then she smoothed the +wet hair, which, dried by the warm sunbeams, coiled itself up in +golden masses, which her fingers softly threaded. + +"I did not know until that time in Venice, when Arthur talked to me +so good, trying to make me feel that it was not hard to die, even if I +was so young and the world so full of beauty," Lucy went on, her voice +sounding very low and her bright shoulder-knots of ribbon trembling +with the rapid beating of her heart. "When he was talking to me I +could almost be willing to die, but the moment he was gone the doubts +and fears came back, and death was terrible again. I was always better +with Arthur. Everybody is, and I think your seeing so much of him is +one reason why you are so good." + +"No, no, I am not good," and Anna's hands pressed hard upon the +girlish head lying in her lap. "I am wicked beyond what you can guess. +I led you this rough way when I might have chosen a smooth, though +longer, road, and walked so fast on purpose to worry you." + +"To worry me. Why should you wish to do that?" and, lifting up her +head, Lucy looked wonderingly at the conscience-stricken Anna, who +could not confess to the jealousy, but who, in all other respects, +answered truthfully, "I think an evil spirit possessed me for a time, +and I wanted to show you that it was not so nice to visit the poor as +you seemed to think; but I am sorry, oh, so sorry, and you'll forgive +me, won't you?" + +A loving kiss was pressed upon her lips and a warm cheek was laid +against her own, as Lucy said, "Of course, I'll forgive you, though I +do not quite understand why you should wish to discourage me or tease +me either, when I liked you so much from the first moment I heard your +voice and saw you in the choir. You don't dislike me, do you?" + +"No, oh, no. I love you very dearly," Anna replied, her tears falling +like rain upon the slight form she hugged so passionately to her, and +which she would willingly have borne in her arms the remainder of +their way, as a kind of penance for her past misdeeds; but Lucy was +much better, she said, and so the two, between whom there was now a +bond of love which nothing could sever, went on together to the low, +dismal house where the Widow Hobbs lived. + +The gate was off the hinges, and Lucy's muslin was torn upon a nail +as she passed through, while the long fringe of her fleecy shawl was +caught in the tall tufts of thistle growing by the path. In a muddy +pool of water a few rods from the house a flock of ducks were +swimming, pelted occasionally by the group of dirty, ragged children +playing on the grass, and who at sight of the strangers and the basket +Anna carried, sprang up like a flock of pigeons and came trooping +towards her. It was not the sweet, pastoral scene which Lucy had +pictured to herself, with Arthur for the background, and her ardor was +greatly dampened even before the threshold was crossed, and she stood +in the low, close room where the sick woman lay, her large eyes +unnaturally bright, and turned wistfully upon them as she entered. +There were ashes upon the hearth and ashes upon the floor, a +hair-brush upon the table and an empty plate upon the chair, with +swarms of flies sipping the few drops of molasses and feeding upon the +crumbs of bread left there by the elfish-looking child now in the bed +beside its mother. There was nothing but poverty--squalid, disgusting +poverty--visible everywhere, and Lucy grew sick and faint at the, to +her, unusual sight. + +"They have not lived here long. We only found them three weeks ago; +they will look better by and by," Anna whispered, feeling that some +apology was necessary for the destitution and filth visible +everywhere. + +Daintily removing the plate to the table, and carefully tucking up her +skirts, Lucy sat down upon the wooden chair and looked dubiously on +while Anna made the sick woman more tidy in appearance, and then fed +her from the basket of provisions which Grandma Humphreys had sent. + +"I never could do that," Lucy thought, as, shoving off the little +dirty hand fingering her shoulder-knots she watched Anna washing the +poor woman's face, bending over her pillow as unhesitatingly as if it +had been covered with ruffled linen like those at Prospect Hill, +instead of the coarse, soiled rag which hardly deserved the name of +pillow-case. "No, I never could do that," and the possible life with +Arthur which the maiden had more than once imagined began to look very +dreary, when, suddenly, a shadow darkened the door, and Lucy knew +before she turned her head that the rector was standing at her back, +the blood tingling through her veins with a delicious feeling; as, +laying both hands upon her shoulders, and bending over her so that she +felt his breath upon her brow he said: + +"What, my Lady Lucy here? I hardly expected to find two ministering +angels, though I was almost sure of one," and his fine eyes rested on +Anna with a strange, wistful look of tenderness, which neither she nor +Lucy saw. + +"Then you knew she was coming," Lucy said, an uneasy thought flashing +across her mind as she remembered the picnic, and the scene she had +stumbled upon. + +But Arthur's reply, "I did not know she was coming, I only knew it was +like her," reassured her for a time, making her resolve to emulate the +virtues which Arthur seemed to prize so highly. What a difference his +presence made in that wretched room! She did not mind the poverty now, +or care if her dress was stained with the molasses left in the chair, +and the inquisitive child with tattered gown and bare brown legs was +welcome to examine and admire the bright plaid ribbons as much as she +chose. + +Lucy had no thought for anything but Arthur, and the subdued +expression of his face as, kneeling by the sick woman's bedside, he +said the prayers she had hungered for more than for the contents of +Anna's basket, now being purloined by the children crouched upon the +hearth and fighting over the last bit of gingerbread. + +"Hush-sh, little one," and Lucy's white, jeweled hand rested on the +head of the principal belligerent, who, awed by the beauty of her face +and the authoritative tone of her voice, kept quiet till the prayer +was over and Arthur had risen from his knees. + +"Thank you, Lucy; I think I must constitute you my deaconess when Miss +Ruthven is gone. Your very presence has a subduing effect upon the +little savages. I never knew them so quiet before for a long time," +Arthur said to Lucy in a low tone, which, low as it was, reached +Anna's ear, but brought no pang of jealousy, or a sharp regret for +what she felt was lost forever. + +She was giving Lucy to Arthur Leighton, resolving that by every means +in her power she would further her rival's cause, and the hot tears +which dropped so fast upon Mrs. Hobbs' pillow while Arthur said the +prayer was but the baptism of that vow, and not, as Lucy thought, +because she felt so sorry for the suffering woman to whom she had +brought so much comfort. + +"God bless you wherever you go," she said, "and if there is any great +good which you desire, may He bring it to pass." + +"He never will--no, never," was the sad response in Anna's heart, as +she joined the clergyman and Lucy outside the door, the former +pointing to the ruined slippers and asking how she ever expected to +walk home in such dilapidated things. + +"I shall certainly have to carry you," he said, "or your blistered +feet will ever more be thrust forward as a reason why you cannot be my +deaconess." + +He seemed to be in unusual spirits that afternoon, and the party went +gaily on, Anna keeping a watchful care over Lucy, picking out the +smoothest places and passing her arm around her slender waist as they +were going up a hill. + +"I think it would be better if you both leaned on me," the rector +said, offering each an arm, and apologizing for not having thought to +do so before. + +"I do not need it, thank you, but Miss Harcourt does. I fear she is +very tired," said Anna, pointing to Lucy's face, which was so white +and ghastly; so like the face seen once before in Venice, that, +without another word, Arthur took the tired girl in his strong arms +and carried her safely to the summit of the hill. + +"Please put me down; I can walk now," Lucy pleaded; but Arthur felt +the rapid beatings of her heart, and kept her in his arms until they +reached Prospect Hill, where Mrs. Meredith was anxiously awaiting +their return, her brow clouding with distrust when she saw Mr. +Leighton, for she was constantly fearing lest her guilty secret should +be exposed. + +"I'll leave Hanover this very week, and so remove her from danger," +she thought as she arose to say good-night. + +"Just wait a minute, please. There's something I want to say to Miss +Ruthven," Lucy cried, and, leading Anna to her own room, she knelt +down by her side, and, looking up in her face, began--"There's one +question I wish to ask, and you must answer me truly. It is rude and +inquisitive, perhaps, but tell me--has Arthur--ever--ever--" + +Anna guessed at what was coming, and, with a gasping sob which Lucy +thought a long-drawn breath, she kissed the pretty parted lips, and +answered: + +"No, darling, Arthur never did, and never will, but some time he will +ask you to be his wife. I can see it coming so plain." + +Poor Anna! Her heart gave one great throb as she said this, and then +lay like a dead weight in her bosom, while with sparkling eyes and +blushing cheeks, Lucy exclaimed: + +"I am so glad--so glad. I have only known you since Sunday, but you +seem like an old friend; and so, you won't mind me telling you that +ever since I first met Arthur among the Alps I have lived in a kind of +ideal world of which he was the center. I am an orphan, you know, and +an heiress, too. There is half a million, they say; and Uncle +Hetherton has charge of it. Now, will you believe me when I say that I +would give every dollar of this for Arthur's love if I could not have +it without." + +"I do believe you," Anna replied, inexpressibly glad that the +gathering darkness hid her white face from view as the child-like, +unsuspecting girl went on. "The world, I know, would say that a poor +clergyman was not a good match for me, but I do not care for that. +Cousin Fanny favors it, I am sure, and Uncle Hetherton would not +oppose me when he saw I was in earnest. Once the world, which is a +very meddlesome thing, picked out Thornton Hastings, of New York, for +me; but my! he was too proud and lofty even to talk to me much, and I +would not speak to him after I heard of his saying that 'I was a +pretty little plaything, but far too frivolous for a sensible man to +make his wife.' Oh, wasn't I angry, though, and don't I hope that when +he gets a wife she will be exactly such a frivolous thing as I am." + +Even through the darkness Anna could see the blue eyes flash and the +delicate nostrils dilate as Lucy gave vent to her wrath against the +luckless Thornton Hastings. + +"You will meet him at Saratoga. He is always there in the summer, but +don't you speak to him, the hateful. He'll be calling you frivolous +next." + +An amused smile flitted across Anna's face as she asked: "But won't +you, too, be at Saratoga? I supposed you were all going there." + +"_Cela dépend_," Lucy replied. "I would so much rather stay here. The +dressing and dancing and flirting tire me so, and then, you know what +Arthur said about taking me for his deaconess in your place." + +There was a call just then from the hall below. Mrs. Meredith was +getting impatient of the delay, and, with a good-by kiss, Anna went +down the stairs and out upon the piazza, where her aunt was waiting. +Mr. Leighton had accepted Fanny's invitation to stay to tea, and he +handed the ladies to their carriage, lingering a moment while he said +his parting words, for he was going out of town to-morrow, and when he +returned Anna would be gone. + +"You will think of us sometimes," he said, still holding Anna's hand. +"St. Mark's will be lonely without you. God bless you and bring you +safely back." + +There was a warm pressure of the hand, a lifting of Arthur's hat, and +then the carriage moved away; but Anna, looking back, saw Arthur +standing by Lucy's side, fastening a rosebud in her hair, and at that +sight the gleam of hope, which for an instant had crept into her +heart, passed away with a sigh. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +AT NEWPORT. + + +Moved by a strange impulse, Thornton Hastings took himself and his +fast bays to Newport, instead of Saratoga, and thither, the first week +in August, came Mrs. Meredith, with eight large trunks, her niece and +her niece's wardrobe, which had cost the pretty sum of eighteen +hundred dollars. + +Mrs. Meredith was not naturally lavish of her money except where her +own interests were concerned, as they were in Anna's case. Conscious +of having come between her niece and the man she loved, she determined +that in the procuring of a substitute for this man, no advantages +which dress could afford should be lacking. Besides, Thornton Hastings +was a perfect connoisseur in everything pertaining to a lady's toilet, +and it was with him and his preference before her mind that Mrs. +Meredith opened her purse so widely and bought so extensively. There +were sun hats and round hats, and hats _ŕ la cavalier_--there were +bonnets and veils, and dresses and shawls of every color and kind, +with the lesser matters of sashes and gloves and slippers and fans, +the whole making an array such as Anna had never seen before, and from +which she at first shrank back appalled and dismayed. But she was not +now quite so much of a novice as when she first reached New York the +Saturday following the picnic at Prospect Hill. She had passed +successfully and safely through the hands of mantua-makers, milliners +and hairdressers since then. She had laid aside every article brought +from home. She wore her hair in puffs and waterfalls, and her dresses +in the latest mode. She had seen the fashionable world as represented +at Saratoga, and, sickening at the sight, had gladly acquiesced in her +aunt's proposal to go on to Newport, where the air was purer and the +hotels not so densely packed. She had been called a beauty and a +belle, but her heart was longing for the leafy woods and fresh green +fields of Hanover; and Newport, she fancied, would be more like the +country than sultry, crowded Saratoga, and never since leaving home +had she looked so bright and pretty as the evening after her arrival +at the Ocean House, when invigorated by the bath she had taken in the +morning, and gladdened by sight of the glorious sea and the soothing +tones it murmured in her ear, she came down to the parlor clad in +simple white, with only a bunch of violets in her hair, and no other +ornament than the handsome pearls her aunt had given to her. Standing +at the open window, with the drapery of the lace curtain sweeping +gracefully behind her, she did not look much like the Anna who led the +choir in Hanover and visited the Widow Hobbs, nor yet much like the +picture which Thornton Hastings had formed of the girl who he knew was +there for his inspection. He had been absent the entire day, and had +not seen Mrs. Meredith, when she arrived early in the morning, but he +found her card in his room, and a strange smile curled his lip as he +said: + +"And so I have not escaped her." + +Thornton Hastings had proved a most treacherous knight and overthrown +his general's plans entirely. Arthur's letter had affected him +strangely, for he readily guessed how deeply wounded his sensitive +friend had been by Anna Ruthven's refusal, while added to this was a +fear lest Anna had been influenced by a thought of him and what might +possibly result from an acquaintance. Thornton Hastings had been +flattered and angled for until he had grown somewhat vain, and it did +not strike him as at all improbable that the unsophisticated Anna +should have designs upon him. + +"But I won't give her a chance," he said, when he finished Arthur's +letter. "I thought once I might like her, but I shan't, and I'll be +revenged on her for refusing the best man that ever breathed. I'll go +to Newport instead of Saratoga, and so be clear of the entire Meredith +clique, the Hethertons, the little Harcourt, and all." + +This, then, was the secret of his being there at the Ocean House. He +was keeping away from Anna Ruthven, who never had heard of him but +once, and that from Lucy Harcourt. After that scene in the Glen, where +Anna had exclaimed against intriguing mothers and their bold, +shameless daughters, Mrs. Meredith had been too wise a maneuverer to +mention Thornton Hastings, so that Anna was wholly ignorant of his +presence at Newport, and looked up in unfeigned surprise at the tall, +elegant man whom her aunt presented as Mr. Hastings. With all +Thornton's affected indifference, there was still a curiosity to see +the girl who could say "no" to Arthur Leighton, and he had not waited +long after receiving Mrs. Meredith's card before going down to find +her. + +"That's the girl, I'll lay a wager," he thought of a high-colored, +showily-dressed hoyden, who was whirling around the room with Ned +Peters, from Boston, and whose corn-colored dress swept against his +boots as he entered the parlor. + +How, then, was he disappointed in the apparition Mrs. Meredith +presented as "my niece," the modest, self-possessed young girl, whose +cheeks grew not a whit redder, and whose pulse did not quicken at the +sight of him, though a gleam of something like curiosity shone in the +brown eyes which scanned him so quietly. She was thinking of Lucy, and +her injunction "not to speak to the hateful if she saw him;" but she +did speak to him, and Mrs. Meredith fanned herself complacently as she +saw how fast they became acquainted. + +"You do not dance," Mr. Hastings said, as she declined an invitation +from Ned Peters, whom she had met at Saratoga. "I am glad, for now you +will, perhaps, walk with me outside upon the piazza. You won't take +cold, I think," and he glanced thoughtfully at the white neck and +shoulders gleaming beneath the gauzy muslin. + +Mrs. Meredith was in rhapsodies and sat a full hour with the tiresome +dowagers around her, while up and down the broad piazza Thornton +Hastings walked with Anna, talking to her as he seldom talked to +women, and feeling greatly surprised to find that what he said was +fully appreciated and understood. That he was pleased with her he +could not deny himself, as he sat alone in his room that night, +feeling more and more how keenly Arthur Leighton must have felt at her +refusal. + +"But why did she refuse him?" he wished he knew, and ere he slept he +had resolved to study Anna Ruthven closely, and ascertain, if +possible, the motive which prompted her to discard a man like Arthur +Leighton. + +The next day brought the Hetherton party, all but Lucy Harcourt, who, +Fanny laughingly said, was just now suffering from clergyman on the +brain, and, as a certain cure for the disease, had turned my Lady +Bountiful, and was playing the pretty patroness to all Mr. Leighton's +parishioners, especially a Widow Hobbs, whom she had actually taken to +ride in the carriage, and to whose ragged children she had sent a +bundle of cast-off party dresses; and the tears ran down Fanny's +cheeks as she described the appearance of the elder Hobbs, who came to +church with a soiled pink silk skirt, her black, tattered petticoat +hanging down below and one of Lucy's opera hoods upon her head. + +"And the clergyman on the brain? Does he appreciate the situation? I +have an interest there. He is an old friend of mine," Thornton +Hastings asked. + +He had been an amused listener to Fanny's gay badinage, laughing +merrily at the idea of Lucy's taking old women out to air and clothing +her children in party dresses. His opinion of Lucy, as she had said, +was that she was a pretty, but frivolous, plaything, and it showed +upon his face as he asked the question he did, watching Anna furtively +as Fanny replied: + +"Oh, yes, he is certainly smitten, and I must say I never saw Lucy so +thoroughly in earnest. Why, she really seems to enjoy traveling all +over Christendom to find the hovels and huts, though she is mortally +afraid of the smallpox, and always carries with her a bit of chloride +of lime as a disinfecting agent. I am sure she ought to win the +parson. And so you know him, do you?" + +"Yes; we were in college together, and I esteem him so highly that, +had I a sister, there is no man living to whom I would so readily give +her as to him." + +He was looking now at Anna, whose face was very pale, and who pressed +a rose she held so tightly that the sharp thorns pierced her flesh, +and a drop of blood stained the whiteness of her hand. + +"See, you have hurt yourself," Mr. Hastings said. "Come to the water +pitcher and wash the stain away." + +She went with him mechanically, and let him hold her hand in his +while he wiped off the blood with his own handkerchief, treating her +with a tenderness for which he could hardly account himself. He pitied +her, he said, suspecting that she had repented of her rashness, and +because he pitied her he asked her to ride with him that day after the +fast bays, of which he had written to Arthur. Many admiring eyes were +cast after them as they drove away, and Mrs. Hetherton whispered +softly to Mrs. Meredith: + +"A match in progress, I see. You have done well for your charming +niece." + +And yet matrimony, as concerned himself, was very far from Thornton +Hastings' thoughts that afternoon, when, because he saw that it +pleased Anna to have him do so, he talked to her of Arthur, hoping in +his unselfish heart that what he said in his praise might influence +her to reconsider her decision and give him a different answer. This +was the second day of Thornton Hastings' acquaintance with Anna +Ruthven, but as the days went on, bringing the usual routine of life +at Newport, the drives, the rides, the pleasant piazza talks, and the +quiet moonlight rambles, when Anna was always his companion, Thornton +Hastings came to feel an unwillingness to surrender, even to Arthur +Leighton, the beautiful girl who pleased him better than any one he +had known. + +Mrs. Meredith's plans were working well, and so, though the autumn +days had come, and one after another the devotees of fashion were +dropping off, she lingered on, and Thornton Hastings still rode and +walked with Anna Ruthven, until there came a night when they wandered +farther than usual from the hotel, and sat down together on a height +of land which overlooked the placid waters, where the moonlight lay +softly sleeping. It was a most lovely night, and for a while they +listened in silence to the music of the sea, then talked of the +breaking up which came in a few days when the hotel was to be closed, +and wondered if next year they would come again to the old haunts and +find them unchanged. + +There was witchery in the hour, and Thornton felt its spell, speaking +out at last, and asking Anna if she would be his wife. He would shield +her so tenderly, he said, protecting her from every care, and making +her as happy as love and money could make her. Then he told her of his +home in the far-off city, which needed only her presence to make it a +paradise, and then he waited for her answer, watching anxiously the +limp white hands, which, when he first began to talk, had fallen so +helplessly upon her lap, and then had crept up to her face, which was +turned away from him, so that he could not see its expression, or +guess at the struggle going on in Anna's mind. She was not wholly +surprised, for she could not mistake the nature of the interest which, +for the last two weeks, Thornton Hastings had manifested in her. But, +now that the moment had come, it seemed to her that she never had +expected it, and she sat silent for a time, dreading so much to speak +the words which she knew would inflict pain on one whom she respected +so highly but whom she could not marry. + +"Don't you like me, Anna?" Thornton asked at last, his voice very low +and tender, as he bent over her and tried to take her hand. + +"Yes, very much," she answered, and, emboldened by her reply, Thornton +lifted up her head, and was about to kiss her forehead, when she +started away from him, exclaiming: + +"No, Mr. Hastings. You must not do that. I cannot be your wife. It +hurts me to tell you so, for I believe you are sincere in your +proposal; but it can never be. Forgive me, and let us both forget this +wretched summer." + +"It has not been wretched to me. It has been a very happy summer, +since I knew you, at least," Mr. Hastings said, and then he asked +again that she should reconsider her decision. He could not take it as +her final one. He had loved her too much, had thought too much of +making her his own to give her up so easily, he said, urging so many +reasons why she should think again, that Anna said to him, at last: + +"If you would rather have it so, I will wait a month, but you must +not hope that my answer will be different from what it is to-night. I +want your friendship, though, the same as if this had never happened. +I like you, Mr. Hastings, because you have been kind to me, and made +my stay in Newport so much pleasanter than I thought it could be. You +have not talked to me like other men. You have treated me as if I, at +least, had common sense. I thank you for that; and I like you +because----" + +She did not finish the sentence, for she could not say "because you +are Arthur's friend." That would have betrayed the miserable secret +tugging at her heart, and prompting her to refuse Thornton Hastings, +who had also thought of Arthur Leighton, wondering if it were thus +that she rejected him, and if in the background there was another love +standing between her and the two men to win whom many a woman would +almost have given her right hand. To say that Thornton was not a +little piqued at her refusal would be false. He had not expected it, +accustomed, as he was, to adulation; but he tried to put that feeling +down, and his manner was even more kind and considerate than ever as +he walked slowly back to the hotel, where Mrs. Meredith was waiting +for them, her practised eye detecting at once that something was +amiss. Thornton Hastings knew Mrs. Meredith thoroughly, and, wishing +to shield Anna from her displeasure, he preferred stating the facts +himself to having them wrung from the pale, agitated girl who, bidding +him good night, went quickly to her room; so, when she was gone, and +he stood for a moment alone with Mrs. Meredith, he said: + +"I have proposed to your niece, but she cannot answer me now. She +wishes for a month's probation, which I have granted, and I ask that +she shall not be persecuted about the matter. I wish for an unbiassed +answer." + +He bowed politely, and walked away, while Mrs. Meredith almost trod on +air as she climbed the three flights of stairs and sought her niece's +chamber. Over the interview which ensued that night we pass silently, +and come to the next morning, when Anna sat alone on the piazza at the +rear of the hotel, watching the playful gambols of some children on +the grass, and wondering if she ever could conscientiously say "yes" +to Thornton Hastings' suit. He was coming toward her now, lifting his +hat politely, and asking what she would give for news from home. + +"I found this on my table," he said, holding up a dainty little +missive, on the corner of which was written "In haste," as if its +contents were of the utmost importance. "The boy must have made a +mistake, or else he thought it well enough to begin at once bringing +your letters to me," he continued, with a smile, as he handed Anna the +letter from Lucy Harcourt. "I have one too, from Arthur which I will +read while you are devouring yours, and then, perhaps, you will take a +little ride. The September air is very bracing this morning," he said, +walking away to the far end of the piazza, while Anna broke the seal +of the envelope, hesitating a moment ere taking the letter from it, +and trembling as if she guessed what it might contain. + +There was a quivering of the eyelids, a paling of the lips as she +glanced at the first few lines, then with a low, moaning cry, "No, no, +oh, no, not that," she fell upon her face. + +To lift her in his arms and carry her to her room was the work of an +instant, and then, leaving her to Mrs. Meredith's care, Thornton +Hastings went back to finish Arthur's letter, which might or might not +throw light upon the fainting fit. + +"Dear Thornton," Arthur wrote, "you will be surprised, no doubt, to +hear that your old college chum is at last engaged--positively +engaged--but not to one of the fifty lambs about whom you once +jocosely wrote. The shepherd has wandered from his flock, and is about +to take into his bosom a little, stray ewe-lamb--Lucy Harcourt by +name--" + +"The deuce he is," was Thornton's ejaculation, and then he read on. + +"She is an acquaintance of yours, I believe, so I need not describe +her, except to say that she is somewhat changed from the gay butterfly +of fashion she used to be, and in time will make as demure a little +Quakeress as one could wish to see. She visits constantly among my +poor, who love her almost as well as they once loved Anna Ruthven. + +"Don't ask me, Thorne, in your blunt, straightforward manner if I +have so soon forgotten Anna. That is a matter with which you've +nothing to do. Let it suffice that I am engaged to another, and mean +to make a kind and faithful husband to her. Lucy would have suited you +better, perhaps, than she does me; that is, the world would think so, +but the world does not always know, and if I am satisfied, surely it +ought to be. Yours truly, + "A. LEIGHTON." + + +"Engaged to Lucy Harcourt? I never could have believed it. He's right +in saying that she is far more suitable for me than him." Thornton +exclaimed, dashing aside the letter and feeling conscious of a pang as +he remembered the bright, airy little beauty in whom he had once been +strongly interested, even if he did call her frivolous and ridicule +her childish ways. + +She was frivolous, too much so, by far, to be a clergyman's wife, and +for a full half hour Thornton paced up and down the room, meditating +on Arthur's choice and wondering how upon earth it ever happened. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +HOW IT HAPPENED. + + +Lucy had insisted that she did not care to go to Saratoga. She +preferred remaining in Hanover, where it was cool and quiet, and where +she would not have to dress three times a day and dance every night +till twelve. She was beginning to find that there was something to +live for besides consulting one's own pleasure, and she meant to do +good the rest of her life, she said, assuming such a sober nun-like +air, that no one who saw her could fail to laugh, it was so at +variance with her entire nature. + +But Lucy was in earnest; Hanover had a greater attraction for her +than all the watering-places in the world, and she meant to stay +there, feeling very grateful when Fanny threw her influence on her +side, and so turned the scale in her favor. Fanny was glad to leave +her dangerous cousin at home, especially after Dr. Bellamy decided to +join their party at Saratoga, and, as she carried great weight with +both her parents, it was finally decided to let Lucy remain at +Prospect Hill in peace, and so one morning in July she saw the family +depart to their summer gayeties without a single feeling of regret +that she was not of their number. She had too much on her hands to +spend her time in regretting anything. There was the parish school to +visit, and a class of children to hear--children who were no longer +ragged, for Lucy's money had been poured out like water, till even +Arthur had remonstrated with her and read her a long lecture on the +subject of misplaced charity. Then, there was Widow Hobbs, waiting for +the jelly Lucy had promised, and for the chapter which Lucy read to +her, sitting where she could watch the road and see just who turned +the corner, her voice always sounding a little more serious and good +when the footsteps belonged to Arthur Leighton, and her eyes, always +glancing at the bit of cracked mirror on the wall, to see that her +dress and hair and ribbons were right before Arthur came in. + +It was a very pretty sight to see her there and hear her as she read +to the poor woman, whose surroundings she had so greatly improved, and +Arthur always smiled gratefully upon her, and then walked back with +her to Prospect Hill, where he sometimes lingered while she played or +talked to him, or brought the luscious fruits with which the garden +abounded. + +This was Lucy's life, the one she preferred to Saratoga, and they +left her to enjoy it, somewhat to Arthur's discomfiture, for much as +he valued her society, he would a little rather she had gone when the +Hethertons went, for he could not be insensible to the remarks which +were being made by the curious villagers, who watched this new +flirtation, as they called it, and wondered if their minister had +forgotten Anna Ruthven. He had not forgotten Anna, and many a time was +her loved name upon his lips and a thought of her in his heart, while +he never returned from an interview with Lucy that he did not contrast +the two and sigh for the olden time, when Anna was his co-worker +instead of pretty Lucy Harcourt. And yet there was about the latter a +powerful fascination, which he found it hard to resist. It rested him +just to look at her, she was so fresh, so bright, so beautiful, and +then she flattered his self-love by the unbounded deference she paid +to his opinions, studying all his tastes and bringing her own will +into perfect subjection to his, until she scarcely could be said to +have a thought or feeling which was not a reflection of his own. And +so the flirtation, which at first had been a one-sided affair, began +to assume a more serious form; the rector went oftener to Prospect +Hill, while the carriage from Prospect Hill stood daily at the gate of +the rectory, and people said it was a settled thing, or ought to be, +gossiping about it until old Captain Humphreys, Anna's grandfather, +conceived it his duty as senior warden of St. Mark's, to talk with the +young rector and know "what his intentions were." + +"You have none?" he said, fixing his mild eyes reproachfully upon his +clergyman, who winced a little beneath the gaze. "Then if you have no +intentions, my advice to you is, that you quit it and let the gal +alone, or you'll ruin her, if she ain't sp'ilt already, as some of the +women folks say she is. It don't do no gal any good to have a chap, +and specially a minister, gallyvantin' after her, as I must say you've +been after this one for the last few weeks. She's a pretty little +creature, and I don't blame you for liking her. It makes my old blood +stir faster when she comes purring around me with her soft ways and +winsome face, and so I don't wonder at you; but when you say you've no +intentions, I blame you greatly. You orter have--excuse my plainness. +I'm an old man who likes my minister, and don't want him to go wrong, +and then I feel for her, left alone by all her folks--more's the shame +to them, and more's the harm for you to tangle up her affections, as +you are doing, if you are not in earnest; and I speak for her just as +I should want some one to speak for Anna." + +The old man's voice trembled a little here, for it had been a wish of +his that Anna should occupy the rectory, and he had at first felt a +little resentment against the gay young creature who seemed to have +supplanted her; but he was over that now, and in all honesty of heart +he spoke both for Lucy's interest and that of his clergyman. And +Arthur listened to him respectfully, feeling, when he was gone, that +he merited the rebuke, that he had not been guiltless in the matter, +that if he did not mean to marry Lucy Harcourt he must let her alone. + +And he would, he said; he would not go to Prospect Hill again for two +whole weeks, nor visit at the cottages where he was sure to find her. +He would keep himself at home; and he did, shutting himself up among +his books, and not even making a pastoral call on Lucy when he heard +that she was sick. And so Lucy came to him, looking dangerously +charming in her green riding-habit--with the scarlet feather sweeping +from her hat. Very prettily she pouted, too, chiding him for his +neglect, and asking why he had not been to see her, nor anybody. There +was the Widow Hobbs, and Mrs. Briggs and those miserable Donelsons--he +had not been near them for a fortnight. What was the reason? she +asked, beating her foot upon the carpet, and tapping the end of her +riding whip upon the sermon he was writing. + +"Are you displeased with me, Arthur?" she continued, her eyes filling +with tears as she saw the grave expression on his face. "Have I done +anything wrong? I am so sorry if I have." + +Her voice had in it the grieved tones of a little child, and her eyes +were very bright, with the tears, quivering on her long silken lashes. +Leaning back in his chair, with his hands clasped behind his head, a +position he always assumed when puzzled and perplexed, the rector +looked at her a moment before he spoke. He could not define to himself +the nature of the interest he took in Lucy Harcourt. He admired her +greatly, and the self-denials and generous exertions she had made to +be of use to him since Anna went away had touched a tender chord and +made her seem very near to him. + +Habit with him was everything, and the past two weeks' isolation had +shown him how necessary she had become to him. She did not satisfy his +higher wants as Anna Ruthven had done. No one could ever do that, but +she amused, and soothed, and rested him, and made his duties lighter +by taking half of them upon herself. That she was more attached to him +than he could wish, he greatly feared, for, since Captain Humphreys' +visit, he had seen matters differently from what he saw them before, +and had unsparingly questioned himself as to how far he would be +answerable for her future weal or woe. + +"Guilty, verily, I am guilty, in leading her on, if I meant nothing by +it," he had written against himself, pausing in his sermon to write it +just as Lucy came in, appealing so prettily to him to know why he had +neglected her so long. She was very beautiful this morning, and Arthur +felt his heart beat rapidly as he looked at her, and thought most any +man who had never known Anna Ruthven would be glad to gather that +bright creature in his own arms and know she was his own. One long, +long sigh to the memory of all he had hoped for once--one bitter pang +as he remembered Anna and that twilight hour in the church and then he +made a mad plunge in the dark and said: + +"Lucy, do you know people are beginning to talk about my seeing you so +much?" + +"Well, let them talk. Who cares?" Lucy replied, with a good deal of +asperity of manner for her, for that very morning the old housekeeper +at Prospect Hill had ventured to remonstrate with her for "running +after the parson." "Pray, where is the wrong? What harm can come of +it?" and she tossed her head pettishly. + +"None, perhaps," Arthur replied, "if one could keep his affections +under control. But if either of us should learn to love the other very +much, and the love was not reciprocated, harm would surely come of +that. At least, that was the view Captain Humphreys took of the matter +when he was speaking to me about it." + +There were red spots on Lucy's face, but her lips were very white, and +the buttons on her riding dress rose and fell rapidly with the beating +of her heart as she looked steadily at Arthur. Was he going to send +her from him, send her back to the insipid life she had lived before +she knew him? It was too terrible to believe, and the great tears +rolled slowly down her cheeks. Then, as a flash of pride came to her +aid, she dashed them away, and said haughtily: + +"And so, for fear I shall fall in love with you, and be ruined, +perhaps, you are sacrificing both comfort and freedom, shutting +yourself up here among your books and studies to the neglect of other +duties? But it need be so no longer. The necessity for it, if it +existed once, certainly does not now. I will not be in your way. +Forgive me that I ever have been." + +Lucy's voice began to tremble as she gathered up her riding-habit and +turned to find her gauntlets. One of them had dropped upon the floor, +between the table and the rector, and as she stooped to reach it her +curls almost swept the young man's lap. + +"Let me get it for you," he said, hastily pushing back his chair, and +awkwardly entangling his foot in her dress, so that when she rose she +stumbled backward, and would have fallen but for the arm he quickly +passed around her. + +Something in the touch of that quivering form completed the work of +temptation, and he held it for an instant while she said to him: + +"Please, let me go, sir!" + +"No, Lucy, I can't let you go; I want you to stay with me." + +Instantly the drooping head was uplifted, and Lucy's eyes looked into +his with such a wistful, pleading, wondering look, that Arthur saw, or +thought he saw, his duty plain, and, gently touching his lips to the +brow glistening so white within their reach, he continued: + +"There is a way to stop the gossip and make it right for me to see +you. Promise to be my wife, and not even Captain Humphreys will say +aught against it." + +Arthur's voice trembled a little now, for the mention of Captain +Humphreys had brought a thought of Anna, whose brown eyes seemed for +an instant to look reproachfully upon that wooing. But Arthur had gone +too far to retract--he had committed himself, and now he had only to +wait for Lucy's answer. + +There was no deception about her. Hers was a nature as clear as +crystal, and, with a gush of glad tears, she promised to be the +rector's wife, hiding her face in his bosom, and telling him brokenly +how unworthy she was, how foolish and how unsuited to the place, but +promising to do the best she could do not to bring him into disgrace +on account of her shortcomings. + +"With the acknowledgment that you love me, I can do anything," she +said, and her white hand crept slowly into the cold, clammy one which +lay so listlessly in Arthur's lap. + +He was already repenting, for he felt that it was sin to take that +warm, trusting, loving heart in exchange for the half-lifeless one he +should render in return, the heart where scarcely a pulse of joy was +beating, even though he held his promised wife, and she as fair and +beautiful as ever promised wife could be. + +"I can make her happy, and I will," he thought, pressing the warm +fingers which quivered to his touch. + +But he did not kiss her again. He could not, for the brown eyes which +still seemed looking at him as if asking what he did. There was a +strange spell about those phantom eyes, and they made him say to Lucy, +who was now sitting demurely at his side: + +"I could not clear my conscience if I did not confess that you are not +the first woman whom I have asked to be my wife." + +There was a sudden start, and Lucy's face was as pale as ashes, while +her hand went quickly to her side, where the heart beats were so +visible, warning Arthur to be careful how he startled her, so when she +asked: + +"Who was it, and why did you not marry her? Did you love her very +much?" he answered indifferently: + +"I would rather not tell you who it was, as that might be a breach of +confidence. She did not care to be my wife, and so that dream was over +and I was left for you." + +He did not say how much he loved her, but Lucy forgot the omission and +asked: + +"Was she young and pretty?" + +"Young and pretty both, but not as beautiful as you," Arthur replied, +his fingers softly parting back the golden curls from the face looking +so trustingly into his. + +And in that he answered truly. He had seen no face as beautiful of +its kind as Lucy's was, and he was glad that he could tell her so. He +knew how it would please her, and partly make amends for the tender +words which he could not speak for the phantom eyes haunting him so +strangely. And Lucy, who took all things for granted, was more than +content, only she wondered that he did not kiss her again, and wished +she knew the girl who had come so near being in her place. But she +respected his wishes too much to ask, after what he had said, and she +tried to make herself glad that he had been so frank with her, and not +left his other love affair to the chance of her discovering it +afterwards at a time when it might be painful to her. + +"I wish I had something to confess," she thought, but from the scores +of her flirtations, and even offers, for she had not lacked for them, +she could not find one where her own feelings had been enlisted in +ever so slight a degree, until she remembered Thornton Hastings, who +for one whole week had paid her much attentions as made her drive +round on purpose to look at the house on Madison Square where the +future Mrs. Hastings was to live. But his coolness afterwards, and his +comments on her frivolity had terribly angered her, making her think +she hated him, as she had said to Anna. Now, however, as she +remembered the drive and the house, she nestled closer to Arthur, and +told him all about it, fingering the buttons on his dressing-gown as +she told it, and never dreaming of the pang she was inflicting as +Arthur thought how mysterious were God's ways, and wondered that he +had not reversed the matter, and given Lucy to Thornton Hastings +rather than to him, who did not half deserve her. + +"I know now I never cared a bit for Thornton Hastings, though I might +if he had not been so mean as to call me frivolous," Lucy said, as she +arose to go; then suddenly turning to the rector, she added: "I shall +never ask you who your first love was, but I would like to know if you +have quite forgotten her." + +"Have you forgotten Thornton Hastings?" Arthur asked, laughingly, and +Lucy replied, "Of course not; one never forgets, but I don't care a +pin for him now, and, did I tell you Fanny writes that rumor says he +will marry Anna Ruthven?" + +"Yes, no, I did not know--I am not surprised," and Arthur stooped to +pick up a book lying on the floor, thus hiding his face from Lucy, +who, woman-like, was glad to report a piece of gossip, and continued: +"She is a great belle, Fanny says--dressed beautifully and in perfect +taste, besides talking as if she knew something, and this pleases Mr. +Hastings, who takes her out to ride and drive, and all this after I +warned her against him, and told her just what he said of me. I am +surprised at her." + +Lucy was drawing on her gauntlets, and Arthur was waiting to see her +out, but she still lingered on the threshold, and at last said to him, +"I wonder you never fell in love with Anna yourself. I am sure if I +were you I should prefer her to me. She knows something and I do not, +but I am going to study. There are piles of books in the library at +Prospect Hill, and you shall see what a famous student I will become. +If I get puzzled, will you help me?" + +"Yes, willingly," Arthur replied, wishing that she would go before +she indulged in any more speculations as to why he did not love Anna +Ruthven. + +But Lucy was not done yet, and Arthur felt as if the earth were giving +way beneath his feet when, as he lifted her into the saddle and took +her hand at parting, she said, "Now, remember, I am not going to be +jealous of that other love. There is only one person who could make me +so, and that is Anna Ruthven; but I know it was not she, for that +night we all came from Mrs. Hobbs' and she went with me up-stairs, I +asked her honestly if you had ever offered yourself to her, and she +told me you had not. I think you showed a lack of taste, but I am glad +it was not Anna." + +Lucy was far down the road ere Arthur recovered from the shock her +last words had given him. What did it mean, and why had Anna said he +never proposed? Was there some mistake, and he the victim of it? There +was a blinding mist before the young man's eyes as he returned to his +study, and went over again, with all the incidents of Anna's refusal, +even to the reading of the letter which he already knew by heart. +Then, as the thought came over him that possibly Mrs. Meredith played +him false in some way, he groaned aloud, and the great sweat drops +fell upon the table where he leaned his head. But this could not be, +he reasoned. Lucy was mistaken. She had not heard aright. Somebody, +surely, was mistaken, or he had committed a fatal error. + +"But I must abide by it," he said, lifting up his pallid face. "God +forbid the wrong I have done in asking Lucy to be my wife when my +heart belonged to Anna. God help me to forget the one and love the +other as I ought. She is a lovely little girl, trusting me so wholly +that I can make her happy, and I will; but Anna! oh, Anna!" + +It was a despairing cry, such as a newly-engaged man should never have +sent after another than his affianced bride. Arthur thought so, too, +fighting back his first love with an iron will, and, after that first +hour of anguish, burying it so far from sight that he went that night +to Captain Humphreys and told of his engagement; then called upon his +bride-elect, trying so hard to be satisfied that, when, at a late +hour, he returned to the rectory, he was more than content; and, by +way of fortifying himself still further, wrote the letter which +Thornton Hastings read at Newport. + +And that was how it happened. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +ANNA. + + +Through the rich curtains which shaded the windows of a room looking +out on Fifth Avenue, the late October sun was shining, and as its red +light played among the flowers on the carpet a pale young girl sat +watching it, and thinking of the Hanover hills, now decked in their +autumnal glory, and of the ivy on St. Mark's, growing so bright and +beautiful beneath the autumnal frosts. Anna had been very sick since +that morning in September when she sat on the piazza at the Ocean +House and read Lucy Harcourt's letter. The faint was a precursor of +fever, the physician said, when summoned to her aid, and in a tremor +of fear and distress Mrs. Meredith had had her at once removed to New +York, and that was the last Anna remembered. + +From the moment her aching head had touched the soft pillows in Aunt +Meredith's house all consciousness had fled, and for weeks she had +hovered so near to death that the telegraph wires bore daily messages +to Hanover, where the aged couple who had cared for her since her +childhood wept, and prayed, and watched for tidings from their +darling. They could not go to her, for Grandpa Humphreys had broken +his leg, and his wife could not leave him, so they waited with what +patience they could for the daily bulletins which Mrs. Meredith sent, +appreciating their anxiety, and feeling glad withal of anything which +kept them from New York. + +"She had best be prayed for in church," the old man had said, and so +Sunday after Sunday Arthur read the prayer for the sick, his voice +trembling as it had never trembled before, and a keener sorrow in his +heart than he had ever known when saying the solemn words. Heretofore +the persons prayed for had been comparative strangers, people in whom +he felt only the interest a pastor feels in all his flock, but now it +was Anna, whose case he took to God, and he always smothered a sob +during the moment he waited for the fervent response the congregation +made, the "Amen" which came from the pew where Lucy sat sounding +louder and heartier than all the rest, and having in it a sound of the +tears which fell so fast on Lucy's book as she asked that Anna might +not die. Oh, how he longed to go to her, but this he could not do, and +so he had sent Lucy, who bent so tenderly above the sick girl, +whispering loving words in her ear, and dropping kisses upon the lips +which uttered no response, save once, when Lucy said: + +"Do you remember Arthur?" + +Then they murmured faintly: + +"Yes; Arthur, I remember him, and the Christmas song, and the +gathering in the church; but that was long ago. There's much happened +since then." + +"And I am to marry Arthur," Lucy had said again, but this time there +was no sign that she was understood, and that afternoon she went back +to Hanover loaded with testaments for the children of St. Mark's, and +new books for the Sunday-school, and, accompanied by Valencia, who, +having had a serious difference with her mistress, Mrs. Meredith, +offered her services to Lucy, and was at once accepted. + +That was near the middle of October; now it was towards the last, and +Anna was so much better that she sat up for an hour or more, and +listened with some degree of interest to what Mrs. Meredith told her +of the days when she lay so unconscious of all that was passing around +her, never even heeding the kindly voice of Thornton Hastings, who, +more than once, had stood by her pillow with his hand on her feverish +brow, and whose thoughtfulness was visible in the choice bouquets he +sent each day, with notes of anxious inquiry when he did not come +himself. + +Anna had not seen him yet since her convalescence. She would rather +not see any one until strong enough to talk, she said; and so Thornton +waited patiently for the interview she had promised him when she was +stronger, but every day he sent her fruit and flowers, and books of +prints which he thought would interest her, and which always made her +cheeks grow hot and her heart beat regretfully, for she thought of the +answer she must give him when he came, and she shrank from wounding +him. + +"He is too good, too noble to have an unwilling wife," she said, but +that did not make it the less hard to tell him so, and when at last +she was well enough to see him, she waited his coming nervously, +starting when she heard his step, and trembling like a leaf as he drew +near her chair. It was a very thin, wasted hand which he took in his, +holding it for a moment between his own, and then laying it gently +back upon her lap. + +He had come for the answer to a question put six weeks before, and +Anna gave it to him. + +Kindly, considerately, but decidedly, she told him she could not be +his wife, simply because she did not love him as he ought to be loved. + +"It is nothing personal," she said, working nervously at the heavy +fringe of her shawl. "I respect you more than any man I ever knew, but +one, and had I met you years ago before--before----" + +"I understand you," Thornton said, coming to her aid. "You have tried +to love me, but cannot, because your affections are given to another." + +Anna bowed her head in silence. Then after a moment she continued: + +"You must forgive me, Mr. Hastings, for not telling you this at once. +I did not know then but I could love you--at least I meant to try, for +you see, this other one----" + +The fingers got terribly tangled in the fringe as Anna gasped for +breath, and went on: + +"He does not know, and never will; that is, he never cared for me, nor +guessed how foolish I was to give him my love unsought." + +"Then it is not Arthur Leighton, and that is the reason you refused +him, too?" Mr. Hastings said, involuntarily, and Anna looked quickly +up, her cheeks growing paler than they were before, as she replied: + +"I don't know what you mean. I never refused Mr. Leighton--never." + +"You never refused Mr. Leighton?" Thornton exclaimed, forgetting all +discretion in his surprise at this flat contradiction. "I have +Arthur's word for it, written to me last June, while Mrs. Meredith was +there, I think." + +"He surely could not have meant it, because it never occurred. Once, I +was foolish enough to think he was going to, but he did not. There is +some great mistake," Anna found strength to say, and then she lay back +in her easy-chair panting for breath, her brain all in a whirl as she +thought of the possibility that she was once so near the greatest +happiness she had ever desired, and which was now lost to her forever. + +He brought her smelling salts, he gave her ice-water to drink, and +then, kneeling beside her, he fanned her gently, while he said: "There +surely is a mistake, and, I fear, a great wrong, too, somewhere. Were +all your servants trusty? Was there no one who would withhold a letter +if he had written? Were you always at home when he called?" Thornton +questioned her rapidly, for there was a suspicion in his mind as to +the real culprit; but he would not hint it to Anna unless she +suggested it herself. And this she was not likely to do. Mrs. Meredith +had been too kind to her during the past summer, and especially during +her illness, to allow of such a thought concerning her, and, in a maze +of perplexity, she replied to his inquiries: "We keep but one servant, +Esther, and she, I know, is trusty. Besides, who could have refused +him for me? Grandfather would not, I know, because--because----" + +She hesitated a little and her cheeks blushed scarlet, as she added: +"I sometimes thought he wished it to be." + +If Thornton had previously a doubt as to the other man who stood +between himself and Anna, that doubt was now removed, and laying aside +all thoughts of self, he exclaimed: "I tell you there is a great wrong +somewhere. Arthur never told an untruth; he thought that you refused +him; he thinks so still, and I shall never rest till I have solved the +mystery. I will write to him to-day." + +For an instant there swept over Anna a feeling of unutterable joy as +she thought of what the end might be; then, as she remembered Lucy, +her heart seemed to stop its beating, and, with a moan, she stretched +her hand toward Thornton, who had risen as if to leave her. + +"No, no; you must not interfere," she said. "It is too late, too late. +Don't you remember Lucy? Don't you know she is to be his wife? Lucy +must not be sacrificed for me. I can bear it the best." + +She knew she had betrayed her secret and she tried to take it back, +but Thornton interrupted her with, "Never mind now, Anna; I guessed it +all before, and it hurts my pride less to know that it is Arthur whom +you prefer to me; I do not blame you for it." + +He smoothed her hair pityingly, while he stood over her for a moment, +wondering what his duty was. Anna had told him plainly what it was. He +must leave Arthur and Lucy alone. She insisted upon having it so, and +he promised her at least that he would not interfere; then, taking her +hand, he pressed it a moment between his own and went out from her +presence. In the hall below he met with Mrs. Meredith, who he knew was +waiting anxiously to hear the result of that long interview. + +"Your niece will never be my wife, and I am satisfied to have it so," +he said; then, as he saw the lowering of her brow, he continued: "I +have long suspected that she loved another, and my suspicions are +confirmed, though there's something I cannot understand," and fixing +his eyes searchingly upon Mrs. Meredith, he told her what Arthur had +written and of Anna's denial of the same. "Somebody played her false," +he said, rather enjoying the look of terror and shame which crept into +the haughty woman's eyes, as she tried to appear natural and express +her own surprise at what she heard. + +"I was right in my conjecture," Thornton thought, as he took his +leave of Mrs. Meredith who could not face Anna then, but paced +restlessly up and down her spacious rooms, wondering how much Thornton +had suspected and what the end would be. + +She had sinned for naught. Anna had upset all her cherished plans, +and, could she have gone back for a few months and done her work +again, she would have left the letter lying where she found it. But +that could not be now. She must reap as she had sown, and resolving +finally to hope for the best and abide the result, she went up to +Anna, who having no suspicion of her, hurt her ten times more cruelly +by the perfect faith with which she confided the story to her than +bitter reproaches would have done. + +"I know you wanted me to marry Mr. Hastings," Anna said, "and I would +if I could have done so conscientiously, but I could not; for, I may +now confess it to you, I did love Arthur so much; and once I hoped +that he loved me." + +The cold hard woman, who had brought this grief upon her niece, could +only answer that it did not matter. + +She was not very sorry, although she had wished her to marry Mr. +Hastings, but she must not fret about that, or about anything. She +would be better by and by, and forget that she ever cared for Arthur +Leighton. + +"At least," and she spoke entreatingly now, "you will not demean +yourself to let him know of the mistake. It would scarcely be womanly, +and he may have gotten over it. Present circumstances would seem to +prove as much." + +Mrs. Meredith felt that her secret was comparatively safe, and, with +her spirits lightened, she kissed her niece lovingly and told her of a +trip to Europe which she had in view, promising that if she went Anna +should go with her and so not be at home when the marriage of Arthur +and Lucy took place. + +It was appointed for the 15th of January, that being the day when Lucy +came of age, and the very afternoon succeeding Anna's interview with +Mr. Hastings the little lady came down to New York to direct her +bridal trousseau making in the city. + +She was brimming over with happiness, and her face was a perfect gleam +of sunshine when she came next day to Anna's room, and, throwing off +her wrappings, plunged at once into the subject uppermost in her +thoughts, telling first how she and Arthur had quarreled. + +"Not quarreled as Uncle and Aunt Hetherton and lots of people do, but +differed so seriously that I cried, and had to give up, too," she +said. "I wanted you for bridesmaid, and, do you think, he objected! +Not objected to you, but to bridesmaids generally, and he carried his +point, so that unless Fanny is married at the same time, as, perhaps, +she will be, we are just to stand up stiff and straight alone, except +as you'll all be round me in the aisle. You'll be well by that time, +and I want you very near to me," Lucy said, squeezing fondly the icy +hand whose coldness made her start and exclaim: + +"Why, Anna, how cold you are, and how pale you are looking! You have +been so sick, and I am well. It don't seem quite right, does it? And +Arthur, too, is looking thin and worn--so thin that I have coaxed him +to raise whiskers to cover the hollows in his cheeks. He looks a heap +better now, though he was always handsome. I do so wonder that you two +never fell in love, and I tell him so most every time I see him." + +It was terrible to Anna to sit and hear all this, and the room grew +dark as she listened; but she forced back her pain, and, stroking the +curly head almost resting in her lap, said kindly: + +"You love him very much, don't you, darling; so much that it would be +hard to give him up?" + +"Yes; oh, yes. I could not give him up now, except to God. I trust I +could do that, though once I could not, I am sure," and, nestling +closer to Anna, Lucy whispered to her of the new-born hope that she +was better than she used to be, that daily interviews with Arthur had +not been without their effect, and now, she trusted, she tried to do +right, from a higher motive than just the pleasing of him. + +"God bless you, darling," was Anna's response, as she clasped the +hand of the young girl who was now far more worthy to be Arthur's wife +than once she had been. + +If Anna ever had a thought of telling Arthur, it would have been put +aside by that interview with Lucy. She could not harm that pure, +loving, trusting girl, and she sent her from her with a kiss and +blessing, praying silently that she might never know a shadow of the +pain which she was suffering. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +MRS. MEREDITH HAS A CONSCIENCE. + + +She had one, years before, but, since the summer day when she sent +from her the white-faced man whose heart she had broken, it had been +hardening over with a stony crust which nothing, it seemed, could +break. And yet there were times when she was softened and wished that +much which she had done might be blotted out from the great book in +which she believed. + +There was many a misdeed recorded there against her, she knew, and +occasionally there stole over her a strange disquietude as to how she +could confront them when they all came up against her. + +Usually, she could cast such thoughts aside by a drive down gay +Broadway, or, at most, a call at Stewart's; but the sight of Anna's +white face and the knowing what made it so white was a constant +reproach, and conscience gradually wakened from its torpor enough to +whisper of the only restitution in her power--that of confession to +Arthur. + +But from this she shrank nervously. She could not humble herself thus +to any one, and she would not either. Then came the fear lest by +another than herself her guilt should come to light. What if Thornton +Hastings should find her out? She was half afraid he suspected her +now, and that gave her the keenest pang of all, for she respected +Thornton highly, and it would cost her much to lose his good opinion. + +She had lost him for her niece, but she could not spare him from +herself, and so, in sad perplexity, which wore upon her visibly, the +autumn days went on until at last she sat one morning in her +dressing-room and read in a foreign paper: + +"Died, at Strasburgh, August 31st, Edward Coleman, aged 46." + +That was all; but the paper dropped from the trembling hands, and the +proud woman of the world bowed her head upon the cold marble of the +table and wept aloud. She was not Mrs. Meredith now. She was Julia +Ruthven again, and she stood with Edward Coleman out in the grassy +orchard, where the apple-blossoms were dropping from the trees and the +air was full of insects' hum and the song of matin birds. She was the +wealthy Mrs. Meredith now, and he was dead in Strasburgh. True to her +he had been to the last; for he had never married, and those who had +met him abroad had brought back the same report of "a white-haired +man, old before his time, with a tired, sad look upon his face." That +look she had written there, and she wept on as she recalled the past +and murmured softly: + +"Poor Edward! I loved you all the while, but I sold myself for gold, +and it turned your brown locks snowy-white, poor darling!" and her +hands moved up and down the folds of her cashmere robe, as if it were +the brown locks they were smoothing just as they used to do. Then came +a thought of Anna, whose face wore much the look which Edward's did +when he went slowly from the orchard and left her there alone, with +the apple-blossoms dropping on her head and the wild bees' hum in her +ear. + +"I can at least do right in that respect," she said; "I can undo the +past to some extent and lessen the load of sin rolling upon my +shoulders. I will write to Arthur Leighton. I surely need tell no one +else; not yet, at least, lest he has outlived his love for Anna. I can +trust to his discretion and to his honor, too. He will not betray me +unless it is necessary, and then only to Anna. Edward would bid me do +it if he could speak. He was somewhat like Arthur Leighton." + +And so, with the dead man in Strasburgh before her eyes, Mrs. +Meredith nerved herself to write to Arthur Leighton, confessing the +fraud imposed upon him, imploring his forgiveness and begging him to +spare her as much as possible. + +"I know from Anna's own lips how much she has always loved you," she +wrote in conclusion; "but she does not know of the stolen letter, and +I leave you to make such use of the knowledge as you shall think +proper." + +She did not put in a single plea for the poor, little Lucy, dancing +so gayly over the mine just ready to explode. She was purely selfish +still, with all her qualms of conscience, and thought only of Anna, +whom she would make happy at another's sacrifice. So she never hinted +that it was possible for Arthur to keep his word pledged to Lucy +Harcourt, and, as she finished her letter and placed it in an envelope +with the one which Arthur had sent to Anna, her thoughts leaped +forward to the wedding she would give her niece--a wedding not quite +like that she had designed for Mrs. Thornton Hastings, but a quiet, +elegant affair, just suited to a clergyman who was marrying a Ruthven. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +THE LETTER RECEIVED. + + +Arthur had been spending the evening at Prospect Hill. The Hethertons +had returned and would remain till after the fifteenth, and since they +had come the rector found it even pleasanter calling there than it had +been before, with only his bride-elect to entertain him. Sure of Dr. +Bellamy, Fanny had laid aside her sharpness, and was exceedingly witty +and brilliant, while, now that it was settled, the colonel was too +thoroughly a gentleman to be otherwise than gracious to his future +nephew; and Mrs. Hetherton was always polite and lady-like, so that +the rector looked forward with a good deal of interest to the evenings +he usually gave to Lucy, who, though satisfied to have him in her +sight, still preferred the olden time, when she had him all to herself +and was not disquieted with the fear that she did not know enough for +him, as she often was when she heard him talking with Fanny and her +uncle of things she did not understand. + +This evening, however, the family were away and she received him +alone, trying so hard to come up to his capacity, talking so +intelligibly of books she had been reading and looking so lovely in +her winter crimson dress, besides being so sweetly affectionate and +confiding, that for once since his engagement Arthur was more than +content, and returned her modest caresses with a warmth he had not +felt before. He did love her, he said to himself, or, at least, he was +learning to love her very much; and when at last he took his leave, +and she went with him to the door, there was an unwonted tenderness in +his manner as he pushed her gently back, for the first snow of the +season was falling and the large flakes dropped upon her golden hair, +from which he brushed them carefully away. + +"I cannot let my darling take cold," he said, and Lucy felt a strange +thrill of joy, for never before had he called her his darling, and +sometimes she had thought that the love she received was not as great +as the love she gave. + +But she did not think so now, and in an ecstasy of joy she stood in +the deep recess of the bay window, watching him as he went away +through the moonlight and the feathery cloud of snow, wondering why, +when she was so happy, there could cling to her a haunted presentiment +that she and Arthur would never meet again just as they had parted. + +Arthur, on the contrary, was troubled with no such presentiment. Of +Anna he hardly thought, or, if he did, the vision was obscured by the +fair picture he had seen standing in the door, with the snowflakes +resting in her hair like pearls in a golden coronet. And Arthur +thanked his God that he was beginning at last to feel right--that the +solemn vows that he was so soon to utter would be more than a mockery. + +It was Arthur's work to teach others how dark and mysterious are the +ways of Providence, but he had not himself half learned that lesson in +all its strange reality; but the lesson was coming on apace; each +stride of his swift-footed beast brought him nearer to the great shock +waiting for him upon the study table, where Thomas, his man, had put +it. + +He saw it the first thing on entering the room, but he did not take +it up until the snow was brushed from his garments and he had warmed +himself by the cheerful fire blazing on the hearth. Then, sitting in +his easy-chair, and moving the lamp nearer to him, he took Mrs. +Meredith's letter and broke the seal, starting as if a serpent had +stung him when, in the note inclosed, he recognized his own +handwriting, the same he had sent to Anna when his heart was so full +of hope as the brown stalks now beating against his windows with a +dismal sound were full of fragrant blossoms. Both had died since +then--the roses and his hopes--And Arthur almost wished that he, too, +were dead when he read Mrs. Meredith's letter and saw the gulf his +feet were treading. Like the waves of the sea, his love for Anna came +rolling back upon him, augmented and intensified by all that he had +suffered, and by the terrible conviction that it could not be, +although, alas! "it might have been." + +He repeated the words over and over again, as stupified with pain, he +sat gazing at vacancy, thinking how true was the couplet-- + + "Of all sad words of tongue and pen, + The saddest are these, it might have been." + +He could not even pray at once, his brain was so confused, but when, +at last, the white, quivering lips could move, and the poor aching +heart could pray, he only whispered, "God help me to do right," and by +that prayer he knew that for a single instant there had crept across +his mind the possibility of sacrificing Lucy, who loved and trusted +him so much. But only for an instant. He could not cast her from him, +though to take her now, knowing what he did, were almost death itself. + +"But God can help me to bear it," he cried; then, falling upon his +knees, with his face bowed to the floor, the Rector of St. Mark's +prayed as he had never prayed before--first for himself, whose need +was greatest, and then for Lucy, that she might never know what making +her happy had cost him, and then for Anna, whose name he could not +speak. "That other one," he called her, and his heart kept swelling in +his throat and preventing his utterance, so that the words he would +say never reached his lips. + +But God heard them just the same, and knew his child was asking that +Anna might forget him, if to remember him was pain; that she might +learn to love another far worthier than he had ever been. + +He did not think of Mrs. Meredith; he had no feeling of resentment +then; he was too wholly crushed to care how his ruin had been brought +about, and, long after the wood fire on the hearth had turned to cold, +gray ashes, he knelt upon the floor and battled with his grief, and +when the morning broke it found him still in the cheerless room where +he had passed the entire night and from which he went forth +strengthened, as he hoped, to do what he believed to be his duty. This +was on Saturday, and on the Sunday following there was no service at +St. Mark's. The rector was sick, the sexton said; "hard sick, too, he +had heard," and the Hetherton carriage, with Lucy in it, drove swiftly +to the rectory, where the quiet and solitude awed and frightened Lucy +as she entered the house and asked the housekeeper how Mr. Leighton +was. + +"It is very sudden," she said. "He was perfectly well when he left me +on Friday night. Please tell him I am here." + +The housekeeper shook her head. Her master's orders were that no one +but the doctor should be admitted, she said, repeating what Arthur had +told her in anticipation of just such an infliction as this. + +But Lucy was not to be denied. Arthur was hers, his sickness was +hers, his suffering was hers, and see him she would. + +"He surely did not mean me when he asked that no one should be +admitted. Tell him it is I; it is Lucy," she said with an air of +authority, which, in one so small, so pretty and so child-like, only +amused Mrs. Brown, who departed with the message, while Lucy sat down +with her feet upon the stove and looked around the sitting-room, +thinking that it was smaller and poorer than the one at Prospect Hill, +and how she would remodel it when she was mistress there. + +"He says you can come," was the word Mrs. Brown brought back, and, +with a gleam of triumph in her eye and a toss of the head, which said, +"I told you so," Lucy went softly into the darkened room and shut the +door behind her. + +Arthur had half expected this and had nerved himself to meet it, but +the cold sweat stood on his face and his heart throbbed painfully as +Lucy bent over him and Lucy's tears fell on his face while she took +his feverish hands in hers and murmured softly, "Poor, dear Arthur, I +am so sorry for you, and if I could I'd bear the pain so willingly." + +He knew she would; she was just as loving and unselfish as that, and +he wound his arms around her and drew her down close to him while he +whispered, "My poor, little Lucy; I don't deserve this from you." + +She did not know what he meant, and she only answered him with +kisses, while her little hands moved caressingly across his forehead +just as they had done years ago in Rome, when she soothed the pain +away. There certainly was a mesmeric influence emanating from those +hands, and Arthur felt its power, growing very quiet and at last +falling away to sleep, while the soft passes went on, and Lucy held +her breath lest she would waken him. + +"She was a famous nurse," the physician said when he came, +constituting her his coadjutor and making her tread wild with joy and +importance when he gave his patient's medicine into her hands. + +"It was hardly proper for her niece to stay," Mrs. Hetherton +thought, but Lucy was one who could trample down proprieties, and it +was finally arranged that Fanny should stay with her. So, while Fanny +went to bed and slept, Lucy sat all night in the sick room with Mrs. +Brown, and when the next morning came she was looking very pale and +languid, but very beautiful withal. At least, such was the mental +compliment paid her by Thornton Hastings, who was passing through +Hanover and had stopped over one train to see his old college friend +and, perhaps, tell him what he began to feel it was his duty to tell +him in spite of his promise to Anna. She was nearly well now and had +driven with him twice to the park, but he could not be insensible to +what she suffered, or how she shrank from having the projected wedding +discussed, and, in his intense pity for her, he had half resolved to +break his word and tell Arthur what he knew. But he changed his mind +when he had been in Hanover a few hours and watched the little fairy +who, like some ministering angel, glided about the sick room, showing +herself every whit a woman, and making him repent that he had ever +called her frivolous or silly. She was not either, he said, and, with +a magnanimity for which he thought himself entitled to a good deal of +praise, he even felt that it was very possible for Arthur to love the +gentle little girl who smoothed his pillows so tenderly and whose +fingers threaded so lovingly the damp, brown locks when she thought +he, Thornton, was not looking on. She was very coy of him and very +distant towards him, too, for she had not forgotten his sin, and she +treated him at first with a reserve for which he could not account. +But, as the days went on, and Arthur grew so sick that his +parishioners began to tremble for their young minister's life, and to +think it perfectly right for Lucy to stay with him, even if she was +assisted in her labor of love by the stranger from New York, the +reserve disappeared and on the most perfect terms of amity she and +Thornton Hastings watched together by Arthur's side. Thornton Hastings +learned more lessons than one in that sick room where Arthur's faith +in God triumphed over the terrors of the grave, which, at one time, +seemed so near, while the timid Lucy, whom he had only known as a gay +butterfly of fashion, dared before him to pray that God would spare +her promised husband or give her grace to say, "Thy will be done." + +Thornton could hardly say that he was skeptical before, but any doubts +he might have had touching the great fundamental truths on which a +true religion rests were gone forever, and he left Hanover a changed +man in more respects than one. + +Arthur did not die, and on the Sunday preceding the week when the +usual Christmas decorations were to commence he came again before his +people, his face very pale and worn, and wearing upon it a look which +told of a new baptism, an added amount of faith which had helped to +lift him above the fleeting cares of this present life. And yet there +was much of earth clinging to him still, and it made itself felt in +the rapid beating of his heart when he glanced towards the square pew +where Lucy knelt and knew that she was giving thanks for him restored +again. + +Once, in the earlier stages of his convalescence, he had almost +betrayed his secret by asking her which she would rather do--bury him +from her sight, feeling that he loved her to the last, or give him to +another, now that she knew he would recover. There was a frightened +look in Lucy's eyes as she replied: "I would ten thousand times rather +see you dead, and know that, even in death, you were my own, than to +lose you that other way. Oh, Arthur, you have no thought of leaving me +now?" + +"No, darling, I have not, I am yours always," he said, feeling that +the compact was sealed forever and that God blessed the sealing. + +He had written to Mrs. Meredith, granting her his forgiveness and +asking that, if Anna did not already know of the deception, she might +never be enlightened. And Mrs. Meredith had answered that Anna had +only heard a rumor that an offer had been made her, but that she +regarded it as a mistake, and was fast recovering both her health and +spirits. Mrs. Meredith did not add her surprise at Arthur's generosity +in adhering to his engagement, nor hint that, now her attack of +conscience was so safely over, she was glad he did so, having hope yet +of that house on Madison Square; but Arthur guessed at it and +dismissed her from his mind just as he tried to dismiss every +unpleasant thought, waiting with a trusting heart for whatever the +future might bring. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +VALENCIA. + + +Very extensive preparations were making at Prospect Hill for the +double wedding to occur on the 15th. After much debate and +consultation, Fanny had decided to take the doctor then; and thus she, +too, shared largely in the general interest and excitement which +pervaded everything. + +Both brides elect seemed very happy, but in a very different way; for, +while Fanny was quiet and undemonstrative, Lucy seemed wild with joy, +and danced gayly about the house--now in the kitchen, where the cake +was making; now in the chamber where the plain sewing was done, and +then flitting to her own room in quest of Valencia, who was sent on +divers errands, the little lady thinking that, now the time was so +near, it would be proper for her to remain indoors and not show +herself in public quite as freely as she had been in the habit of +doing. + +So she remained at home, while they missed her in the back streets and +bylanes, the Widow Hobbs, who was still an invalid, pining for a sight +of her bright face, and only half compensated for its absence by the +charities which Valencia brought; the smart waiting-maid putting on +innumerable airs and making Mrs. Hobbs feel keenly how greatly she +thought herself demeaned by coming to such a heathenish place as that. + +The Hanoverians, too, missed her in the street, but for this they +made ample amends by discussing the doings at Prospect Hill and +commenting upon the bridal trousseau which was sent up from New York +the very week before Christmas, thus affording a most fruitful theme +for conversation for the women and girls engaged in trimming the +church. + +There were dresses of every conceivable fabric, they said, but none +were quite so grand as the wedding-dress itself--the heavy white +silk which could "stand alone," and trailed "a full half-yard behind." + +It was also whispered round that, not content with seeing the effect +of her bridal robes as they lay upon the bed, Miss Lucy Harcourt had +actually tried them on--wreath, veil and all--and stood before the +glass until Miss Fanny had laughed at her for being so vain and +foolish, and said she was a pretty specimen for a sober clergyman's +wife. + +For all this gossip the villagers were indebted mostly to Miss +Valencia Le Barre, who, ever since her arrival at Prospect Hill, had +been growing somewhat disenchanted with the young mistress she had +expected to rule even more completely than she had ruled Mrs. +Meredith. But in this she was mistaken, and it did not improve her +never very amiable temper to find that she could not with safety +appropriate more than half her mistress' handkerchiefs, collars, +cuffs, and gloves, to say nothing of perfumery, and pomades, and, as +this was a new state of things with Valencia, she chafed at the +administration under which she had so willingly put herself, and told +things of her mistress which no sensible servant would ever have +reported. And Lucy gave her plenty to tell. + +Frank and outspoken as a child, she acted as she felt, and did try on +the bridal dress, screaming with pleased delight when Valencia +fastened the veil and let its fleecy folds fall gracefully around her. + +"I wonder what Arthur will think, I do so wish he was here," she had +said, ordering a hand-glass brought that she might see herself from +behind and know just how much her dress did trail, and how it looked +beneath the costly veil. + +She was very beautiful in her bridal robes, and she kept them on till +Fanny began to chide her for her vanity, and, even then, she lingered +before the mirror, as if loath to take them off. + +"I don't believe in presentiments," she said to Fanny; "but, do you +know, it seems to me just as if I should never wear this again," and +she smoothed thoughtfully the folds of the heavy silk she had just +laid upon the bed. "I don't know what can happen to prevent it, unless +Arthur should die. He was so pale last Sunday and seemed so weak that +I shuddered every time I looked at him. I mean to drive round there +this afternoon," she continued. "I suppose it is too cold for him to +venture as far as here, and he has no carriage, either." + +She went to the parsonage that afternoon, and the women in the church +saw her as she drove by, the gorgeous colors of her carriage blanket +flashing in the wintry sunshine just as the diamonds flashed upon the +hand she waved gayly towards them. + +There was a little too much of the lady patroness about her quite to +suit the plain Hanoverians, especially those who were neither high +enough or low enough to be honored with her notice, and they returned +to their wreathmaking and gossip, wondering under their breath if it +would not, on the whole, have been just as well if their clergyman had +married Anna Ruthven instead of this fine city girl with her Parisian +manners. + +A gleam of intelligence shot from the gray eyes of Valencia, who was +in a most unreasonable mood. + +"She did not like to stain her hands with the nasty hemlock more than +some other folks," she had said, when, after the trying on of the +bridal dress, Lucy had remonstrated with her for some duty neglected, +and then bidden her to go to the church and help if she were needed. + +"I must certainly dismiss you," Lucy had said, wondering how Mrs. +Meredith had borne so long with the insolent girl, who went +unwillingly to the church, where she was at work when the carriage +drove by. + +She had thought many times of the letter she had read, and, more than +once, when particularly angry, it had been upon her lips to tell her +mistress that she was not the first whom Mr. Leighton had asked to be +his wife, if, indeed, she was his choice at all; but there was +something in Lucy's manner which held her back; besides which, she +was, perhaps, unwilling to confess to her own meanness in reading the +stolen letter. + +"I could tell them something if I would," she thought, as she bent +over the hemlock boughs and listened to the remarks; but, for that +time, she kept the secret and worked on moodily, while the +unsuspecting Lucy went her way and was soon alighting at the rectory +gate. + +Arthur saw her as she came up the walk and went to meet her. + +He was looking very pale and miserable, and his clothes hung loosely +upon him; but he welcomed her kindly leading her in to the fire, and +trying to believe that he was glad to see her sitting there with her +little high-heeled boots upon the fender and the bright hues of her +Balmoral just showing beneath her dress of blue merino. + +She went all over the house, as she usually did, suggesting +alterations and improvements, and greatly confusing good Mrs. Brown, +who trudged obediently after her, wondering what she and her master +were ever to do with that gay-plumaged bird, whose ways were so unlike +their own. + +"You must drive with me to the church," she said at last to Arthur, +"Fresh air will do you good, and you stay moped up too much. I wanted +you to-day at Prospect Hill, for this morning's express from New York +brought----" + +She stood up on tiptoe to whisper the great news to him, but his +pulses did not quicken in the least, even when she told him how +charming was the bridal dress. He was standing before the mirror and, +glancing at himself, he said, half laughingly, half sadly: + +"I am a pitiful-looking bridegroom to go with all that finery: I +should not think you would want me, Lucy." + +"But I do," she answered, holding his hand and leading him to the +carriage, which took him to the church. + +He had not intended going there as long as there was an excuse for +staying away, and he felt himself grow sick and faint when he stood +amid the Christmas decorations and remembered the last year when he +and Anna had fastened the wreaths upon the wall. + +They were trimming the church very elaborately in honor of him and his +bride, and white artificial flowers, so natural that they could not be +detected, were mingled with scarlet leaves and placed among the mass +of green. The effect was very fine and Arthur tried to praise it, but +his face belied his words; and, after he was gone, the disappointed +girls declared that he acted more like a man about to be hung than one +so soon to be married. + +It was very late that night when Lucy summoned Valencia to comb out +her long, thick curls, and Valencia was tired, and cross, and sleepy, +handling the brush so awkwardly and snarling her mistress's hair so +often that Lucy expostulated with her sharply, and this awoke the +slumbering demon, which, bursting into full life, could no longer be +restrained; and, in amazement, which kept her silent, Lucy listened +while Valencia taunted her "with standing in Anna Ruthven's shoes," +and told her all she knew of the letter stolen by Mrs. Meredith, and +the one she carried to Arthur. But Valencia's anger quickly cooled, +and she trembled with fear when she saw how deathly white her mistress +grew at first and heard the loud beating of her heart, which seemed +trying to burst from its prison and fall bleeding at the feet of the +poor, wretched girl, around whose lips the white foam gathered as she +motioned Valencia to stop and whispered: + +"I am dying!" + +She was not dying, but the fainting fit which ensued was longer and +more like death than that which had come upon Anna when she heard that +Arthur was lost. Twice they thought her heart had ceased to beat, and, +in an agony of remorse, Valencia hung over her, accusing herself as +her murderer, but giving no other explanation to those around her +than: "I was combing her hair when the white froth spirted all over +her wrapper, and she said that she was dying." + +And that was all the family knew of the strange attack, which lasted +till the dawn of the day, and left upon Lucy's face a look as if years +and years of anguish had passed over her young head and left its +footprints behind. + +Early in the morning she asked to see Valencia alone, and the +repentant girl went to her prepared to take back all she had said and +declare the whole a lie. But Lucy wrung the truth from her, and she +repeated the story again so clearly that Lucy had no longer a doubt +that Anna was preferred to herself, and sending Valencia away, she +moaned piteously: + +"Oh, what shall I do? What is my duty?" + +The part which hurt her most of all was the terrible certainty that +Arthur did not love her as he loved Anna Ruthven. She saw it now just +as it was; how, in an unguarded moment, he had offered himself to save +her good name from gossip, and how, ever since, his life had been a +constant struggle to do his duty by her. + +"Poor Arthur," she sobbed, "yours has been a hard lot trying to act +the love you did not feel; but it shall be so no longer. Lucy will set +you free." + +This was her final decision, but she did not reach it till a day and a +night had passed, during which she lay with her white face turned to +the wall, saying she wanted nothing except to be left alone. + +"When I can, I'll tell you," she had said to Fanny and her aunt, when +they insisted upon knowing the cause of her distress. "When I can I'll +tell you. Leave me alone till then." + +So they ceased to worry her, but Fanny sat constantly in the room +watching the motionless figure, which took whatever she offered, but +otherwise gave no sign of life until the morning of the second day, +when it turned slowly towards her, the livid lips quivering piteously +and making an attempt to smile as they said: + +"Fanny, I can tell you now; I have made up my mind." + +Fanny's black eyes were dim with the truest tears she had ever shed +when Lucy's story was ended, and her voice was very low as she asked: + +"And do you mean to give him up at this late hour?" + +"Yes, I mean to give him up. I have been over the entire ground many +times, even to the deep humiliation of what people will say, and I +have come each time to the same conclusion. It is right that Arthur +should be released and I shall release him." + +"And you--what will you do?" Fanny asked, gazing in wonder and awe at +the young girl, who answered: + +"I do not know; I have not thought. I guess God will take care of +that." + +He would, indeed, take care of that just as he took care of her, +inclining the Hetherton family to be so kind and tender towards her, +and keeping Arthur from the house during the time when the Christmas +decorations were completed and the Christmas festival was held. + +Many were the inquiries made for her, and many the thanks and wishes +for her speedy restoration sent her by those whom she had so +bountifully remembered. + +Thornton Hastings, too, who had come to town and was present at the +church on Christmas-eve, asked for her with almost as much interest as +Arthur, although the latter had hoped she was not seriously ill and +expressed a regret that she was not there, saying he should call on +her on the morrow after the morning service. + +"Oh, I cannot see him here. I must tell him there, at the rectory, in +the very room where he asked Anna and me both to be his wife," Lucy +said when Fanny reported Arthur's message. "I am able to go there and +I must. It will be fine sleighing to-morrow. See, the snow is falling +now," and pushing back the curtain, Lucy looked dreamily out upon the +fast whitening ground, sighing, as she remembered the night when the +first snowflakes fell and she stood watching them with Arthur at her +side. + +Fanny did not oppose her cousin, and, with a kiss upon the +blue-veined forehead, she went to her own room, leaving Lucy to think +over for the hundredth time what she would say to Arthur. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +CHRISTMAS DAY. + + +The worshippers at St. Mark's on Christmas morning heard the music of +the bells as the Hetherton sleigh passed by, but none of them knew +whither it was bound, or the scene which awaited the rector, when, his +services over, he started towards home. + +Lucy had kept her word, and, just as Mrs. Brown was looking at the +clock to see if it was time to put her fowls to bake, she heard the +hall-door open softly and almost dropped her dripping-pan in her +surprise at the sight of Lucy Harcourt, with her white face and great +sunken blue eyes, which looked so mournfully at her as Lucy said: + +"I want to go to Arthur's room--the library, I mean." + +"Why, child, what is the matter? I heard you was sick, but did not +s'pose 'twas anything like this. You are paler than a ghost," Mrs. +Brown exclaimed as she tried to unfasten Lucy's hood and cloak and +lead her to the fire. + +But Lucy was not cold, she said. She would rather go at once to +Arthur's room. Mrs. Brown made no objection, though she wondered if +the girl was crazy as she went back to her fowls and Christmas +pudding, leaving Lucy to find her way alone to Arthur's study, which +looked so like its owner, with his dressing-gown across the lounge, +just where he had thrown it, his slippers under the table and his +arm-chair standing near the table, where he sat when he asked Lucy to +be his wife, and where she now sat down, panting for breath and gazing +dreamily around with the look of a frightened bird when seeking for +some avenue of escape from an appalling danger. There was no escape, +and, with a moan, she laid her head upon the table and prayed that +Arthur might come quickly while she had sense and strength to tell +him. She heard his step at last, and rose up to meet him, smiling a +little at his sudden start when he saw her there. + +"It's only I," she said, shedding back the clustering curls from her +pallid face, and grasping the chair to steady herself and keep from +falling. "I am not here to frighten you, I've come to do you good--to +set you free. Oh, Arthur, you do not know how terribly you have been +wronged, and I did not know it, either, till a few days ago. She never +received your letter--Anna never did. If she had she would have +answered yes, and have been in my place now; but she is going to be +there. I give you up to Anna. I'm here to tell you so. But oh, Arthur, +it hurts--it hurts." + +He knew it hurt by the agonizing expression of her face, but he could +not go near her for a moment, so overwhelming was his surprise at what +he saw and heard. But, when the first shock to them both was past, and +he could listen to her more rational account of what she knew and what +she was there to do, he refused to listen. He would not be free. He +would keep his word, he said. Matters had gone too far to be suddenly +ended. He held her to his promise and she must be his wife. + +"Can you tell me truly that you love me more than Anna?" Lucy asked, a +ray of hope dawning for an instant upon her heart, but fading into +utter darkness as Arthur hesitated to answer. + +He did love Anna best, though never had Lucy been so near supplanting +even her as at that moment, when she stood before him and told him he +was free. There was something in the magnitude of her generosity which +touched a tender chord and made her dearer to him than she had ever +been. + +"I can make you very happy," he said at last, and Lucy replied: + +"Yes, but yourself--how with yourself? Would you be happy, too? No, +Arthur, you would not, and neither should I, knowing all I do. It is +best that we should part, though it almost breaks my heart, for I have +loved you so much." + +She stopped for breath, and Arthur was wondering what he could say to +persuade her, when a cheery whistle sounded near and Thornton Hastings +appeared in the door. He had gone to the office after church, and not +knowing that anyone but Arthur was in the library, had come there at +once. + +"I beg your pardon," he said when he saw Lucy, and he was hurrying +away, but Lucy called him back, feeling that in him she should find a +powerful ally to aid her in her task. + +Appealing to him as Arthur's friend, she repeated the story rapidly, +and then went on: + +"Tell him it is best--he must not argue against me, for I feel myself +giving way through my great love for him, and it is not right. Tell +him so Mr. Hastings--plead my cause for me--say what a true woman +ought to say, for, believe me, I am in earnest in giving him to Anna." + +There was a ghastly hue upon her face, and her features looked pinched +and rigid, but the terrible heart-beats were not there. God, in his +great mercy, kept them back, else she had surely died under that +strong excitement. Thornton thought she was fainting, and, going +hastily to her side, passed his arm around her and put her in the +chair; then, standing protectingly by her, he said just what first +came into his mind to say. It was a delicate matter in which to +interfere, and he handled it carefully, telling frankly of what had +passed between himself and Anna, and giving it as his opinion that she +loved Arthur to-day just as well as before she left Hanover. + +"Then, if that is so and Arthur loves her, as I know he does, it is +surely right for them to marry, and they must," Lucy exclaimed, +vehemently, while Thornton laid his hand pityingly upon her head and +said: + +"And only you be sacrificed?" + +There was something wondrously tender in the tone of Thornton's voice, +and Lucy glanced quickly up at him, while her blue eyes filled with +the first tears she had shed since she came into that room. + +"I am willing--I am ready--I have made up my mind and I shall never +revoke it," she answered, while Arthur again put in a feeble +remonstrance. + +But Thornton was on Lucy's side. He did with cooler judgment what she +could not, and when, at last, the interview was ended, there was no +ring on Lucy's forefinger, for Arthur held it in his hand and their +engagement was at an end. + +Stunned with what he had passed through, Arthur stood motionless, +while Thornton drew Lucy's cloak about her shoulders, fastened her fur +himself, tied on her satin hood, taking such care of her as a mother +would take of a suffering child. + +"It is hardly safe to send her home alone," he thought, as he looked +into her face and saw how weak she was. "As a friend of both, I ought +to accompany her." + +She was, indeed, very weak, so weak that she could scarcely stand, +and Thornton took her in his arms and carried her to the sleigh; then +springing in beside her he made her lean her tired head upon his +shoulder as they drove to Prospect Hill. She did not seem frivolous to +him now, but rather the noblest type of womanhood he had ever met. Few +could do what she had done, and there was much of warmth and fervor in +the clasp of his hand as he bade her good-by and went back to the +rectory, thinking how deceived he had been in Lucy Harcourt. + + * * * * * + +Great was the consternation and surprise in Hanover when it was known +that there was to be but one bride at Prospect Hill on the night of +the fifteenth, and various were the surmises as to the cause of the +sudden change; but, strive as they might, the good people of the +village could not get at the truth, for Valencia held her peace, while +the Hethertons were far too proud to admit of being questioned, and +Thornton Hastings stood a bulwark of defence between the people and +their clergyman, adroitly managing to have the pulpit at St. Mark's +supplied for a few weeks while he took Arthur away, saying that his +health required the change. + + * * * * * + +"You have done nobly, darling," Fanny Hetherton had said to Lucy when +she received her from Thornton's hands and heard that all was over; +then, leading her half-fainting cousin to her own cheerful room, she +made her lie down while she told of the plan she had formed when first +she heard what Lucy's intentions were. + +"I wrote to the doctor, asking if he would take a trip to Europe, so +that you could go with us, for I know you would not wish to stay here. +To-day I have his answer, saying he will go, and what is better yet, +father and mother are going, too." + +"Oh, I am so glad, so glad. I could not stay here now," Lucy replied, +sobbing herself to sleep, while Fanny sat by and watched, wondering at +the strength which had upheld her weak little cousin in the struggle +she had been through, and, now that it was over and the doctor safe +from temptation, feeling that it was just as well; for, after all, it +was a _mésalliance_ for an heiress like her cousin to marry a poor +clergyman. + + * * * * * + +There was a very quiet wedding at Prospect Hill on the night of the +fifteenth, but neither Lucy nor Arthur were there. He lay sick again +at the St. Denis in New York and she was alone in her chamber, +fighting back her tears and praying that, now the worst was over, she +might be withheld from looking back and wishing the work undone. She +went with the bridal party to New York, where she tarried for a few +days, seeing no one but Anna, for whom she sent at once. The interview +had lasted more than an hour, and Anna's eyes were swollen with +passionate weeping when at last it ended, but Lucy's face, though +white as snow, was very calm and quiet, wearing a peaceful, placid +look, which made it like the face of an angel. Two weeks later and the +steamer bore her away across the water, where she hoped to outlive the +storm which had beaten so piteously upon her. Thornton Hastings and +Anna went with her on board the ship, and for their sakes she tried to +appear natural, succeeding so well that it was a very pleasant picture +which Thornton cherished in his mind of a frail little figure standing +upon the deck, holding its waterproof together with one hand and with +the other waving a smiling adieu to Anna and himself. + +More than a year after, Thornton Hastings followed that figure across +the sea, finding it in beautiful Venice, sailing again through the +moon-lit streets and listening to the music which came so oft from the +passing gondolas. It had recovered its former roundness and the face +was even more beautiful than it had been before, for the light +frivolity was all gone and there was reigning in its stead a peaceful, +subdued expression which made Lucy Harcourt very fair to look upon. At +least, so thought Thornton Hastings, and he lingered at her side, +feeling glad that she had given no outward token of agitation when he +said to her: + +"There was a wedding at St. Mark's, in Hanover, just before I left; +can you guess who the happy couple were?" + +"Yes--Arthur and Anna. She wrote me they were to be married on +Christmas Eve. I am so glad it has come round at last." + +Then she questioned him of the bridal, of Arthur, and even of Anna's +dress, her manner evincing that the old wound had healed and nothing +but a sear remained to tell where it had been. And so the days went on +beneath the sunny Italian skies, until one glorious night, when +Thornton spoke his mind, alluding to the time when each loved another, +expressing himself as glad that, in his case, the matter had ended as +it did, and then asking Lucy if she could conscientiously be his wife. + +"What, you marry a frivolous plaything like me?" Lucy asked, her +woman's pride flashing up once more, but this time playfully, as +Thornton knew by the joyous light in her eye. + +She told him what she meant and how she had hated him for it, and then +they laughed together; but Thornton's kiss smothered the laugh on +Lucy's lips, for he guessed what her answer was, and that this, his +second wooing, was more successful than his first. + + * * * * * + +"Married, in Rome, on Thursday, April 10th, Thornton Hastings, Esq., +of New York City, to Miss Lucy Harcourt, also of New York, and niece +of Colonel James Hetherton." + +Anna was out in the rectory garden bending over a bed of hyacinths +when Arthur brought her the paper and pointed to the notice. + +"Oh, I am so glad--so glad--so glad!" she exclaimed, emphasizing each +successive "glad" a little more and setting down her foot, as if to +give it force. "I have never dared to be quite as happy with you as I +might," she continued, leaning lovingly against her husband, "for +there was always a thought of Lucy and what a fearful price she paid +for our happiness. But now it is all as it should be; and, Arthur, am +I very vain in thinking that she is better suited to Thornton Hastings +than I ever was, and that I do better as your wife than Lucy would +have done?" + +A kiss was Arthur's only answer, but Anna was satisfied, and there +rested upon her face a look of perfect content as all that warm spring +afternoon she worked in her pleasant garden, thinking of the +newly-married pair in Rome, and glancing occasionally at the open +window of the library, where Arthur was busy with his sermon, his pen +moving all the faster for the knowing that Anna was just within his +call--that by turning his head he could see her dear face, and that +by-and-by when his work was done she would come in to him, and with +her loving words and winsome ways, make him forget how tired he was, +and thank heaven again for the great gift bestowed when it gave him +Anna Ruthven. + + +THE END. + + * * * * * + + + + +AUNT HENRIETTA'S MISTAKE + +BY FRANCES HENSHAW BADEN. + + "Before thy soul, at this deep lottery, + Draw forth her prize ordained by destiny, + Know that there's no recanting a first choice; + Choose then discreetly." + + +"Heigh-ho! This is Valentine's day. Oh, how I would like to get a +valentine! Did you ever get one, aunty?" said little Etta Mayfield. + +"Yes, many of them. But not when I was a child. In my day children +were children. You get a valentine! I'm e'en a'most struck dumb with +astonishment to hear you think of such things. Go, get your doll-baby, +or your sampler, and look on that. Saints of Mercy! It seems only +yesterday you were a baby in long clothes," answered Miss Henrietta +Mayfield, a spinster of uncertain age; but the folks in the village, +who always knew everything, declared she had not owned to a day over +thirty-five for the last ten years. This, if true, was quite +excusable, for Miss Henrietta's little toilette glass reflected a +bright, pleasant, and remarkably youthful face. + +"I'm almost seventeen, aunty, and I'm tired of being treated like a +child," said Etta, with a pout of her rosy lips. + +"Ten years to come will be plenty time enough for you to think of +such things. A valentine, indeed! I'd like to know who is to send one +to you, or to any one else. There are only three unmarried men in our +village; which of them would you like for your valentine; Jake Spikes, +the blind fiddler; Bill Bowen, the deaf mail-boy, or Squire Sloughman? +If the squire sends a valentine, I rather guess it will be to me. Oh, +I forgot! There's the handsome stranger that boarded last summer with +Miss Plimpkins. I noticed him at church Sunday. Come down to make a +little visit and bring Miss Plimpkins a nice present ag'in, I guess. +He is mighty grateful to her for taking such good care of him while he +was sick. A uncommon handsome man. But 'taint a bit likely he'll think +of a baby like you. He is a man old enough to know better--near forty, +likely. He was monstrous polite to me; always finding the hymns, and +passing his book to me. And I noticed Sunday he looked amazing +pleasing at me. Land! it's ten o'clock. You'd better run over to the +office and get the paper. No, I'll go myself. I want to stop in the +store, to get some yarn and a little tea." + +Miss Henrietta hurried off, and little Etta pouted on and murmured +something about: + +"People must have been dreadful slow and dull in aunty's young days," +and then her thoughts wandered to that same handsome stranger. + +She, too, had seen him in church on Sunday, and knew well how the rosy +blush mantled her fair face when she saw the pleasant smile she had +hoped was for her. But she might have known better, she thought; such +a splendid man would never think of her. She would be sure to die an +old maid, all on account of that dark-eyed stranger. + +"Has Bill got in with the mail?" asked Miss Mayfield. + +"Yes, miss; here's your paper what Bill brought, and here is a letter +or valentine what Bill didn't bring. It's from the village," said the +little old postmaster, with a merry laugh. + +Yes, no mistaking, it was a valentine, directed in a fine manly hand +to Miss Henrietta Mayfield. "From Squire Sloughman," thought Miss +Henrietta. "He has spoken, or rather written his hopes at last." But, +no, that was not his handwriting. + +Miss Mayfield stepped out on the porch, carefully opened the envelope, +and glanced hurriedly over the contents, and then at the +signature--Arthur Linton. + +"Well, well, who would have thought?" said she; "that is the name of +the handsome stranger! Just to think of his really taking a liking to +me. Stop! maybe he is a sharper from town, who has heard of my having +a little property, and that's what he's after. I'll read his valentine +over again: + + Do not think me presumptuous, dear maid, in having dared to write + you. No longer can I resist the continued pleadings of my heart. + I have loved you ever since your sweet blue eyes, beaming with + their pure, loving light, met my gaze. I have seized the + opportunity offered by St. Valentine's day to speak and learn my + fate. I will call this evening and hear from your dear lips if I + shall be permited to try and teach your heart to love, + + ARTHUR LINTON. + +"Well, truly that is beautiful language. It is a long day since +anybody talked of my blue eyes. They were blue once, and I suppose are +so still. Well, he writes as if he meant it. I'll see him, and give +him a little bit of encouragement. Perhaps that seeing some one else +after me will make the squire speak out. For six years he has been +following me. For what? He has never said. I like Squire +Sloughman--(his name should be Slowman). I'll try and hasten him on +with all the heart I've got left. The most of it went to the bottom of +the cruel ocean with my poor sailor-boy. Ah! if it had not been for +his sad end, I would not now be caring for any man, save my poor +Willie. But it is a lonesome life I am living--and it's kind of +natural for a woman to think kindly of some man; and the squire is a +real good fellow, and, to save me, I can't help wishing he would +speak, and be done with it. + +"This valentine may be for my good luck, after all," Miss Henrietta's +thoughts were swift now, planning for the future; her feet kept pace +with them, and before she knew it, she was at her own door. + +"Why, aunty, how handsome you do look! your cheeks are as rosy as our +apples," said Etta. + +"Is that such a rarity, you should make so much of it?" answered Miss +Henrietta. + +"No, indeed, aunty, I only hope I may ever be as good looking as you +are always. Did you get your yarn and tea?" + +"Land! if I hain't forgot them! You see, child, the wind is blowing +rather fresh, and I was anxious to get back," she answered her niece; +but said to herself, "Henrietta Mayfield, I am ashamed on you to let +any man drive your senses away." + +"Never mind, Ettie; you can go over and spend the afternoon with +Jessie Jones, and then get the things for me," she continued, glad of +an excuse to get Etta away. + +Miss Henrietta was very particular with her toilet that afternoon, and +truly the result was encouraging. She was satisfied that she was +handsome still. + +It was near dark when she saw the handsome stranger coming up the +garden walk. + +"Did Miss Henrietta Mayfield receive a letter from me to-day?" he +asked. + +"Yes, sir; walk in," answered Miss Henrietta, who, although quite +flurried, managed to appear quite cool. + +"This, perhaps, may seem very precipitate in me, and I have feared +perhaps you might not look with any favor on my suit. Do, dear lady, +ease my fears. Can I hope that in time I may win the heart I am so +anxious to secure?" + +"Ahem--well, I cannot tell, sure. You know, sir, we have to know a +person before we can love him. But I must confess I do feel very +favorably inclined towards you." + +"Bless you, my dear friend; I may call you so now, until I claim a +nearer, dearer title. If you are now kindly disposed, I feel sure of +ultimate success. I feared the difference in our ages might be an +objection." + +"No, no; I do not see why it need. It is well to have a little +advantage on one side or the other. But, my dear friend, should you +fail to secure the affection, you will not think unkindly of your +friend." + +"No; only let me have a few weeks, with your continued favor, and I +ask no more. Many, many thanks," and, seizing her hand, he pressed it +to his lips. + +"Will you not now allow me to see my fair Henrietta?" he asked. + +"Oh, I have been a little flurried, and did forget it was quite dark. +I'll light the lamp in a minute." + +Etta's sweet voice was now heard humming a song in the next room. She +had returned from her visit, and as Miss Henrietta succeeded in +lighting the lamp, her bright face peeped in the door, and she said: + +"Aunty, Squire Sloughman is coming up the walk." + +"Bless her sweet face! There is my Henrietta now!" exclaimed the +visitor, and before the shade was adjusted on the lamp, she was alone. +The handsome stranger was in the next room with--Etta! + +A little scream, an exclamation of surprise from Etta, followed by the +deep, manly voice of Mr. Linton, saying: + +"Dearest Henrietta, I have your aunt's permission to win you, if I +can." + +"Henrietta! Little baby Etta! Sure enough, that was her name, too. +What an idiot she had been!" thought Henrietta, the elder. "Oh! she +hoped she had not exposed her mistake! Maybe he had not understood +her!" + +But Squire Sloughman was waiting for some one to admit him, and she +had no more time to think over the recent conversation, or to +determine whether or not Mr. Linton was aware of her blunder. + +Squire Sloughman was cordially welcomed, and after being seated a +while, observed: + +"You have got a visitor, I see," pointing to the stranger's hat lying +on the table beside him. + +"Yes, Etta's got company. The stranger that boarded at Miss Plimpkins' +last summer. He sent Etta a valentine, and has now come himself," +returned Miss Henrietta. + +"A valentine! what for?" + +"To ask her to have him, surely. And I suppose he'll be taking her off +to town to live, pretty soon." + +"And you, what will you do? It will be awful lonely here for you," +said the squire. + +"Oh! he's coming out now," thought Miss Henrietta. And she gave him a +better chance by her reply: + +"Well, I don't know that anybody cares for that. I guess no one will +run away with me." + +But she was disappointed; it came not, what she hoped for, just then. +Yet the Squire seemed very uneasy. At length he said: + +"I got a valentine myself, to-day." + +"You! What sort of a one? Comic, funny, or real in earnest?" asked +Miss Henrietta. + +"Oh! there is nothing funny about it--not a bit of laugh; all cry." + +"Land! a crying valentine." + +"Yes, a baby." + +"Squire Sloughman!" said Miss Henrietta, with severe dignity. + +"Yes, my dear, Miss Henrietta; I'll tell you all about it. You +remember my niece, who treated me so shamefully by running away and +marrying. Well, poor girl, she died a few days ago, and left her baby +for me, begging I would do for her little girl as kindly as I did by +its mother." + +"Shall you keep it?" asked Miss Henrietta. + +"I can't tell; that will depend on some one else. I may have to send +it off to the poorhouse!" + +"I'll take it myself first," said his listener. + +"Not so, my dear, without you take me, too. Hey, what say you, now? I +tell you, I've a notion to be kind and good to this little one; but a +man must have some one to help him do right. Now, it depends on you to +help me be a better or a worse man. I've been thinking of you for a +half-dozen years past, but I thought your whole heart was in little +Etta, and maybe you wouldn't take me, and I did not like to deal with +uncertainties. Now, Etta's provided for with a valentine, I'm here +offering myself and my valentine to you. Say yes or no; I'm in a hurry +now." + +"Pity but you had been so years ago," thought Miss Henrietta; but she +said: + +"Squire Sloughman, I think it the duty of every Christian to do all +the good she can. So, for that cause, and charity toward the helpless +little infant, I consent to--become----" + +"Mrs. Sloughwoman--man, I mean," said the delighted Squire, springing +up and imprinting a kiss on Miss Henrietta's lips. + +"Sloughwoman, indeed! I'll not be slow in letting you know I think you +are very hasty in your demonstrations. Wait until I give you leave," +said the happy spinster. + +"I have waited long enough. And now, my dear, do you hurry on to do +your Christian duty; remembering particularly the helpless little +infant needing your care," said the Squire, a little mischievously. + +Miss Henrietta never knew whether her mistake had been discovered. She +did not try to find out. + +In a short time there was a double wedding in the village. The brides, +Aunt Henrietta and little Etta, equally sharing the admiration of the +guests. + +Mrs. Sloughman admitted to herself, after all, it was the valentine +that brought the squire out. And she is often heard to say that she +had fully proved the truth of the old saying, "It's an ill wind that +blows nobody good. + + * * * * * + + + + +FALSE AND TRUE LOVE. + +BY FRANCES HENSHAW BADEN. + + "Though round her playful lips should glitter + Heat lightnings of a girlish scorn, + Harmless they are, for nothing bitter + In that dear heart was ever born; + That merry heart that cannot lie + Within its warm nest quietly, + But ever from the full dark eye + Is looking kindly night and morn." + + +"My son, I do not believe Valeria Fairleigh has ever a serious +thought; nothing beyond the present enjoyment, or deeper than the +devising of a becoming attire for some approaching dance or festive +occasion. Believe me, she is not the girl for a minister's wife. You +have chosen as your vocation the work of God; in this you should be +sustained by your wife: one who would enter into your labor with +energy of mind and body. She should have a heart to sympathize not +only with her husband, but his charge. I tell you, David, a man's +success and popularity in his ministry depends very much on the woman +that he has chosen to be his helpmate. Had your mother been other than +she is, I truly think I should have sunk under the many trials during +the years of my work." + +"But, father, if report speaks truly, my mother was not a very sedate +maiden. I have heard many a tale of her wild days. Pardon me, but I do +not think you are judging Miss Fairleigh with your usual benevolence +and charity. I know she is a very gay, fun-loving girl, but I believe +she has a warm, true heart. I have never known her to do a heartless +action, or turn a cold ear on any needing her sympathy." + +"Lovers are prone to see only the good and beautiful," replied his +father, "Of course, my son, I do not wish or expect to decide this +matter for you; only to influence you, for your happiness. Will you +promise me this much--do not commit yourself until you have seen more +of Valeria and in some degree test her worth. How is it that a man of +such deep thought, hard study, and so earnest and devoted to his work, +should place his affections on one so very dissimilar? It is very +strange to me, particularly as in the same house is her cousin, Miss +Bland--just the woman for you. A well-cultivated, thoroughly-disciplined +mind, with great energy and industry. You know well, of charities her +name is always among the first; ready with time and money to help in +good works. Why could you not have loved her? Why did your heart +wander from the right?" + +"Oh, father! you ask why the heart wanders! I know too truly love +cannot be tutored; but will drag away the heart--often against our +better judgment, and wander with it where it will--sometimes dropping +on the bosom of a calmly gliding river; again amid the turbulent waves +of a dark and stormy sea. Heaven grant that this last may not be the +fate of mine. The true reason, however, that I became attached to Miss +Fairleigh I think is this: I was so accustomed to, so tired of, +dignified, sedate and 'well-disciplined' young ladies, who always put +on church behavior and talk only of church matters when the minister +is near, that when I met her she was so different such a bright, merry +child of nature, I was charmed! Yes, I may say, refreshed, rested. +After the many sad and trying duties of our calling, father, we need +some one like Vallie Fairleigh to call forth a reaction of the mind. +But you shall have the promise, I will not advance a step further +until I know her better." + +A few days after this conversation David Carlton was sitting in his +study, when his father entered, saying: + +"David, I have a letter from home, hastening my return. So I shall +have to cut my visit a little short. I would go away much happier, if +my mind was relieved about Miss Fairleigh. I wish I could think her +worthy of the position you would place her in. I have noticed you much +since our conversation on that subject, and I am sure you are much +attached to her. I have an idea to put her to a test, not only +concerning her better feelings, but to prove the amount of influence +you have over her. + +"Listen: This evening is appointed for the meeting to raise funds and +make arrangements relative to sending out a missionary to the ---- +Indians. There has (you tell me) been but little interest awakened +among your people on this subject. Now, if you can induce the young +folks to take hold of this, it will be all right. This is also the +evening of Monsieur Costello's grand masquerade and the opera of +'Maritana.' I called on Mrs. Fairleigh about an hour ago. The ladies +were discussing these amusements. Miss Bland is very anxious to see +that particular opera, and was trying to persuade Valeria to go with +her. Mrs. Fairleigh positively forbade the ball; so when I left the +arrangement was, Miss Bland, Mrs. Fairleigh and the gentlemen were +going to enjoy the music, and Valeria is to remain home; but I very +much fear this she will not do. Now, David, go and ask her to +accompany you--urge her; tell her how much good her influence might +exert, and so on. If she consents, I have not another word to say +about your loving, wooing and marrying her, if you can. Should she not +consent, then ask Miss Bland. I know how anxious she is to see +"Maritana." Now, try if she will resign this pleasure for the sake of +doing good. Of course, you must not let her know you have previously +asked her cousin. Will you do it? It can do no harm, and may he +productive of much good." + +"Yes, father, I will put her to the test. But I will not promise that +the issue shall decide my future course. I shall be grieved and +mortified if she does not consent, but not without hope. I know she is +good, and we will find it yet." + +An hour more found David Carlton awaiting in the drawing-room the +coming of Valeria. + +Fortune favored him thus far. + +"Miss Bland and Miss Fairleigh were out, but would be back soon. Miss +Valeria was in," answered the servant to his inquiry, "If the ladies +were home?" + +In a few moments she came in smiling brightly, and saying: + +"I am really glad to see you again, Mr. Carlton, for mamma and Julia +said I had quite horrified you with my nonsense the last evening you +were here. Indeed, you must excuse me, but I cannot possibly don +dignity and reserve. Jule can do enough of that for both, and I think +it is far better to laugh than be sighing." + +"Indeed, I have never seen anything to disapprove of. I could not +expect or wish to see the young and happy either affecting, or really +possessing, the gravity of maturer years. My absence has no connection +whatever with the events of that evening. I have been devoting my +spare time to my father. This is his last evening with me. I came +round to ask a favor of you. We are very anxious to get up some +interest for the mission to ----, and father thinks if the young folks +of the church would aid us, it would be all right. Will you go with +us?" answered David. A look of deep regret, the first he had ever +seen, was in the eyes of Valeria, when she answered: + +"You will have to excuse me, I have an engagement for the evening, I +am really sorry, I would like to oblige you." Then, breaking into a +merry laugh, she said: + +"Jule will go--ask her. She dotes on missions--both foreign and home, +and all sorts of charity meetings. She has money, too; I've spent +every cent of mine this month already, besides all I could borrow. +Yes, ask her; I know she will, and give, too. I should be sure to go +to sleep or get to plotting some sort of mischief against my nearest +neighbor. I could do you no good, Mr. Carlton." + +"Valeria! Excuse me, Miss Fairleigh--will you be serious and listen to +me one moment?" + +He urged, but in vain. Not even when his voice sank to low, soft tones +and, with pleading eyes, he whispered: "Go for my sake," would she +consent. + +"At least tell me where you are going?" he asked. + +"I am going to----. No, I dare not tell. Ma and Jule would not +approve, and even dear, good papa might censure, if he knew it. Here +they come! Julia, Mr. Carlton is waiting to see you." + +"Well, David, you have failed! Your countenance is very expressive." + +"Even so, sir--Miss Fairleigh not only declined, but I greatly fear +she is going to the ball against her parents' wishes. If this be so, I +must try to conquer this love. The girl who sets at naught the will of +her kind, loving parents--acting secretly against their wishes--would +not, I am sure, prove a good wife." + +"Well spoken, my son. How about Miss Bland?" + +"Of course she is going. We are to call for her." + +"A good girl--resigning pleasure to duty. A rare good girl." + +"Apparently, so, sir; but, indeed, I am impressed with the idea that +there is something hidden about her. She does not seem natural," +replied David. + +Father and son had just arrived at Mr. Fairleigh's when the door +opened to admit a middle-aged, poorly-clad woman. Showing them into +the drawing-room, the servant closed the door. Very soon after seating +themselves they heard the voice of Miss Bland in a very excited tone. + +"My brother! How dare you ask me of him?" + +"I dare for my child's sake. She is ill--perhaps dying." + +"What is that to him or me? I told you and her I would have nothing +more to do with either, since her name became so shamefully connected +with my brother's. Will you be kind enough to relieve me of your +presence?" + +"My daughter is as pure as you. Her child, and your brother's is +suffering from want. Will you pay me, at least, for our last work--the +dress you have on?" + +"How much?" was asked, in a sharp, quick voice. + +"Five dollars." + +"Outrageous! No, I will not pay that. Here are three dollars. Go, and +never let me hear of you again." + +"Julia Bland, I wish the world knew you as I do. You will grind to the +earth your sister-woman, and give liberally where it will be known and +said, 'How charitable--how good!' I say how hard-hearted--how +deceitful!" said the woman, in bitter tones. + +"Go!" came forth, in a voice quivering with rage. + +Soon the hall door told the departure of the unwelcome guest. + +Looks of amazement, beyond description, passed between the reverend +gentlemen. + +At length the younger one said: + +"She does not know of our arrival. I will go into the hall and touch +the bell." + +"Oh! excuse me, sir. I thought Miss Bland was in the drawing-room. I +will tell her now," said the servant. + +Could this gentle, dignified woman be the same whose harsh, hard tones +were still lingering in their ears? + +Impossible! thought the elder man. Surely he must be in a dreadful, +dreadful dream. Not so David; he clearly understood it all, and felt +truly thankful that the blundering servant had enabled him to get this +"peep behind the scenes." + +The meeting was over, and they were just leaving the church, when: + +"Please, sir, tell me where I can find the preacher or doctor--and +I've forgot which--maybe both. They frightened me so when they hurried +me off!" said a boy, running up to them. + +"Here, my lad--what is it?" + +"Mr. Preacher, please come with me. There is a young woman very +ill--maybe dying. They sent me for somebody, and I can't remember; but +please run, sir!" + +"I will go. Excuse me, Miss Bland; father will take charge of you." + +And he followed, with hasty steps, the running boy. + +"Here, sir--this is the house. Go in, sir, please!" + +"Now, my lad, run over to Dr. Lenord's office--he is in--and ask him +to come. So, one or the other of us will be the right one." + +David Carlton entered, treading noiselessly along the passage, until +he had reached a door slightly open. Glancing in to be sure he was +right, he beheld lying--apparently almost dying--a young woman. Beside +the bed, kneeling with upraised head and clasped hands, was a +strangely familiar form. Then came forth a sweet voice, pleading to +the throne of Mercy for the sufferer. He gazed spellbound for a +moment. Then slowly and softly he retraced his steps to the door. Then +he almost flew along the streets until he reached Mr. Fairleigh's, +just as his father and Miss Bland were ascending the steps. Seizing +the former very unceremoniously, he said: + +"Come, father, with me quickly--you are wanted." + +In a few moments more, before the boy had returned with the physician, +they stood again at the door of the sickroom. David whispered: + +"Look there! listen!" + +"Be still, Mary, dear! Do not worry. I shall not judge you wrongfully. +How dare I? We are all so sinful. That you are suffering and in need +is all the knowledge I want." + +"Oh, where is William? Why does he not come? Why not speak and +acknowledge his wife and child? Now that I am dying, he might! Oh, +where is he? Why will not God send him to me?" moaned the sick girl. + +"God is love, Mary. He does not willingly afflict or chastise us. Try +to say, 'Thy will be done!' + +"But, dear, do not be so desponding. I know you are very sick; but I +think it more your mind than bodily illness. Try to bear up. Pray God +to spare you for your baby's sake," softly said the comforter. + +"Father, you go in and see if you can help her. I will await you +outside," whispered David. + +A slight knock at the door aroused the kneeling girl, who approached +and said: + +"Come in, doctor! Why, Mr. Carlton--I was expecting the doctor. This +poor girl is very sick; she fainted a while ago. I was very much +alarmed and sent a boy for a physician. She is somewhat better now. +Come in; you may soothe her mind, and possibly do more good than the +medical man." + +"Miss Fairleigh? Is it possible I find you here? I thought you were at +the masquerade." + +"Heaven bless her, sir," said a woman, arising from a seat beside the +sufferer, whom Mr. Carlton recognized as the woman he had seen enter +Mr. Fairleigh's a few hours before. "But for her care, we should have +suffered beyond endurance. She has comforted mind and body. Yes, when +evil tongues whispered of shame! her pure heart did not fear, or +shrink from us. When employers and friends deserted and condemned, she +stayed and consoled." + +"Hush! She has fainted again. Oh! why does not the doctor come?" said +Valeria. + +"Thank Heaven! Here he is now." + +Mr. Carlton approached the physician (an old acquaintance), and +explained to him as well as he could the trouble. The kind-hearted +doctor raised the poor, thin hand, felt the feeble pulse, and, +turning, answered the anxious, inquiring looks bent on him: + +"It is only a swoon; yet she is very weak. However, I think we will +bring her round all right in a little while." + +"Indeed, she is an honest girl, doctor, although appearances are +against her now," said the mother. "Her husband left her before she +was taken ill, to remain a short time with his sick uncle. Mr. Bland +was fearful of offending his aged relative, and so kept his marriage +concealed. She had a few letters when he first left, but, for near two +months, not a word have we heard. I fear he is ill. She has grown +dreadfully depressed since the birth of her babe. The suspicion +resting on her is killing her." + +The suffering girl was showing signs of returning consciousness. Then +a quick step was heard in the entry. She started up and cried out: + +"Willie is come! Thank God!" and sank back, almost lifeless. + +William Bland, for truly it was so, rushed forward and dropped on his +knees beside the bed, saying: + +"How is this? Why have you not answered my letters? Doctor, save her!" + +Advancing, the doctor raised her head gently and gave her a little +wine, saying: + +"Speak to her, reassure her; that is all she needs now." + +"Listen, Mary love, dear wife, and mother!" he whispered, in +astonishment, as Valeria held before him the little sleeping babe, +while a flush of paternal pride passed over his fine face. "There is +no more need of silence; I am free and proud to claim you, darling. +Uncle knows all, and bids me bring you to him. He was very ill. I +nursed him and his life was spared. The fatigue, and more than all the +worry of mind about you, brought on a severe nervous fever. I have +been very ill. Julia knew it. Did you not hear? In my ravings I told +all. Uncle has changed much since his recovery. He is no longer +ambitious, except for my happiness, and is now waiting to welcome +you." + +The wonderful medicine had been administered, and already the happy +effects were apparent. + +With her hand clasped in her husband's she was slumbering peacefully, +while a smile of sweet content lingered on the pale face. + +The doctor soon bade adieu, saying: + +"I see I shall not be needed any longer. She will very soon be strong +again." + +"Miss Fairleigh, I am awaiting your pleasure. Are you to return to +your home to-night?" asked Mr. Carlton. + +"Oh, yes. Bridget promised to come for me, but I must get back before +mamma and Julia; yet I forget there is no further need of concealment: +I am so very glad! I will be over in the morning. Good-night." + +"God bless you, Vallie! you have been a ministering angel to my loved +ones. You can tell Julia I have returned and am with my wife. I fear +my sister has acted very wickedly in this matter. I have written many +times and received no answer. Some one, for whom they were not +intended, got those letters. Perhaps I judge her harshly. Good-night," +said William Bland. + +Vallie, accompanied by Mr. Carlton, was soon on her way home. They had +gone but a short distance when they were joined by David. + +"Why, Mr. Carlton! how strange to meet you, when I was just thinking +of you, and on the eve of asking your father to tell you I was not at +the ball this evening. I was so sorry I could not explain when you +asked me. Your father will tell you all, I know. You thought me very +wicked and willful," said Vallie. + +David clasped the little hand held out to greet him, and whispered: + +"With your permission I will come to-morrow, and tell you what I did +think and do still." + +Bidding her good-night at her father's door, David lingered a moment, +to catch the low answer to his repeated question, "Shall I come?" + +Fervently thanking God for the happy termination of the evening, he +hastened to overtake his father--and said: + +"Well, father?" + +"Well, David! Very well. Go ahead, David, win her, if you can! She is +a rare, good girl." + +"Which one, sir?" + +"Come, come! David, I am completely bewildered by this evening's +discoveries. Do not bear too hard on me, for falling into a common +error--mistaking the apparent for the real. This night has proved a +test far more thorough than I imagined it possibly could. You may +safely abide by the issue and never fear the stormy sea," answered his +father. + +A few months more and Vallie Fairleigh's merry voice and sweet smile +resounds through, and brightens the minister's home. + +David Carlton stands to-day among the best-loved and most popular of +the clergy. Attributable most likely to his "wife's influence" (his +father says). I well know she has soothed many an aching heart, +cheered the long, weary hours of the sickroom, won the young from the +path of evil, and now numberless prayers are ascending and begging +God's blessing on the "minister's wife." + + * * * * * + + + + +IN THE HOSPITAL. + +BY FRANCES HENSHAW BADEN. + + +In the autumn of 1862 my time was constantly employed in the various +hospitals of Washington. At this period of our struggle the Sanitary +Commission was in its infancy, and all attentions of the kind ladies +were joyfully received by surgeons and nurses, as well as by our +noble, suffering boys. Immediately after the wounded from the second +battle of Bull Run were assigned to the different wards in the various +hospitals, I was going my rounds in the "Douglas," and after bestowing +the wines, jellies, custards and books to my old friends, I began to +look up the new patients. + +"Sister," I said to the kind Sister of Mercy, whose sweet, patient and +motherly face was bending over a soldier to speak her words of +comfort, "are there any Massachusetts boys in the new arrivals?" + +"No, dear; I think not, in this ward." Then she bent lower to catch +the whisper from her patient, and he pointed to the card at the head +of his little bed. She looked, and answered again: "Oh, yes, here is +one: Paul Ashton, 16th Mass., Co. B." + +I approached the bed, and saw one of the noblest faces I had ever +beheld, but not that of a Northern boy, I thought; so proud and +dark--no, a true Southern face. + +"You from Massachusetts?" I exclaimed. + +A wan smile played around his pale lips for a moment. He saw my +surprise, and answered: + +"No, from Mississippi; but in that regiment," pointing again to the +little card. + +Here was a mystery, and one I could not solve just then. He was too +weak to converse, but I made up my mind to devote myself to Paul +Ashton from that time until he was convalescent, or, if God's will, +relieved from his sufferings. After sitting by his side until the +attendant came to dress his wounds, I bade him good-night, and +promised to see him in the morning. + +On my way out I met Dr. B. God bless him! for his kindness to our +boys. No woman ever was more gentle and patient. "Doctor," I +exclaimed, as he was hurrying by, "stop and tell me, how is Ashton +wounded? Is he very ill? Will he die?" + +"Ah, Mrs. H., three questions in one breath. Yes, he is very ill. +Three wounds in the right side and shoulder, which are draining his +life away. I fear he must die. Is he one of your boys? Do all you can +for him." + +"May I?" I replied. + +"Yes, my dear madam; and try to keep up his spirits. I give you leave. +Tell Sister L. He is a noble fellow--I am deeply interested in him." + +The next day found me much earlier than usual at the hospital. To my +great pleasure I found that Ashton had rested well, and was much +easier than any one expected he would be. He smiled and put out his +hand when I approached his bed, and motioned me to be seated. After +talking to him a few moments I found him looking at me very intently, +and soon he said: + +"Are you from the Bay State?" + +I replied: "Oh, no, I am a Southern woman. I am from Virginia." + +"I thought you did not look or speak like a Northern or Eastern lady. +Then, why are you interested in our boys? Are you with us in feeling? +Can you be a Union lady?" + +"Yes, my boy, I am with you hand and heart. I cannot fight, but I can +feed, comfort and cheer you. Yes, I am a Southern woman and a +slaveholder. Now, I see you open your eyes with wonder; but, believe +me, there are many like me, true, loyal woman in the South; but my +particular interest in our regiments is, my father is a native of +Boston; but I love all our brave boys just the same." + +A look of much interest was in his face, which I was so glad to see, +being so different from the total apathy of the day before. + +"You are the first lady from Virginia that I have met who was not very +bitter against us Yankees--it is really amusing to be called so, to a +Mississippi man. Do you not feel a sympathy for the South? Your +interest is with them. You against your State and I mine--we certainly +are kindred spirits," he smilingly said. "We think and feel alike. It +is not politics but religion my mother always taught me. Love God +first and best, then my country, and I have followed her precepts, at +a very great sacrifice, too. Sometimes in my dreams I see her looking +approvingly and blessing me." + +"Your mother, where is she?" + +He pointed up, and said: + +"Father, mother, both gone, I hope and trust to heaven. I am +alone--yes, yes, all alone now." + +I would not let him talk any more, and finding out from the attendant +what he most relished, I promised to see him the next day. + +I saw him almost every day for a fortnight. He grew no worse, but +very little, if any, better. On one occasion Dr. B. said: + +"I do not know what to make of Ashton. He ought to improve much +faster. My dear madam, set your woman's wits at work; perhaps we may +find a cure." + +"I have been thinking I would try to gain his confidence. I know he +has a hidden sorrow. I must, for his sake, probe the wound; but I +fancy it is in his heart." + +During my next visit I said: + +"I wish you would tell me something of your life; how you came to +enter the army; and, indeed, all you will of your Southern home." + +His face flushed, and he replied: + +"No, I cannot. Why should you want to know----" + +Then he stopped, hesitated and said: + +"I beg your pardon. You have been so kind to me; it is due I should +comply; but not now; to-morrow; I must have time to consider and +compose my mind. To-morrow, please God, if I am living, I will tell +you; and you will see that I have a severer wound than good Dr. B. +knows of--one he cannot use his skillful hand upon." + +"Well, thank you--I would rather wait until to-morrow. I am anxious to +get home early this afternoon." + +On reaching his cot the next day, I saw Ashton was calm, but very +pale. I said: + +"Do not exert yourself this morning. I can wait." + +"No; sit nearer and I will tell you all." + +I give it to you, dear reader, as he gave it to me: + +"I told you I was by birth a Mississippian. My mother was from +Boston, the daughter of a wealthy merchant, who, failing in his +business, soon fell in ill health and died, leaving his wife and two +daughters almost entirely destitute. Mother, the youngest, was always +very fragile, and, having been reared in luxury, was poorly calculated +for a life of trial and poverty. However, she was urged by a wealthy +Southern planter to return with him to his home, and take the position +of governess to his little daughters, her friends all approving of +this offer, knowing that a Southern climate would improve her health; +so she became the inmate of Colonel Ashton's family, and soon was +beloved by the father and mother, as well as her pupils. I have heard +that neither the colonel nor his wife could bear her out of their +sight. She had been with them nearly a year, when the young son and +heir, Edgar Ashton, returned from his college. He soon followed the +rest, and was deeply in love with the governess. My mother was very +beautiful, possessing so much gentleness, with such a merry +disposition, that I have heard them say that grandfather used to call +her his Sunshine. The negroes said that she had a charm to make all +she looked upon love her. But when the son, their pride, declared his +intention of making May Everett his wife, it was met with a decided +objection by both parents. Impossible! marry a Northern teacher; he, +the son of Colonel Ashton--the heir of Ashton manor! preposterous! My +mother then prepared to bid adieu to them and return to her home, +never for a moment listening to the repeated petitions of her lover to +marry him. She would not go into a family where she was not welcome. +Her high-toned principles won for her additional love and respect. And +when the hour of parting came, the old colonel opened his arms, and +drew her to his heart, and exclaimed: + +"'Wife, we cannot give her up. Welcome your daughter.' + +"My mother, however, went home; but with the understanding that she +would return in a few weeks--as the wife of their son. + +"In two months she was again with them; and never a happier +household! In the second year of their marriage I was sent to them. My +grandparents made almost an idol of me, and from grandfather I used to +hear of his father's adventures in the Revolution. He inspired me with +a devotion to his country which was fostered by my mother. When I was +sixteen, my father was thrown from his horse and brought home to us +insensible, and lived with us but a few hours. My mother's health, +naturally very delicate, sank under this great affliction. She lived +only a year afterward, and I was left to comfort my grandparents, now +quite advanced in years. They would not hear of my going away again to +school, and engaged a private tutor--a young gentleman, a graduate of +Yale. I had been under Mr. Huntington's instructions four years when +the country began to be convulsed with the whispers of secession--one +State after another passing that miserable ordinance--my grandfather +said: + +"'Paul, my boy, if Mississippi goes out, I shall go, too--not only out +of the Union, but out of this world of sorrow and trouble. I cannot +live. I have felt my tie to earth loosening very fast since your +grandmother left me, and I feel I cannot live any longer if my State +shall be classed with traitors.' + +"I have failed to tell you grandmother died in my eighteenth year. Mr. +Huntington, feeling sure of what was coming, left us for his home in +Medford, never for one moment expressing to us any views on the +subject now engrossing all minds; and, when parting with him, I +whispered, 'If it comes, I am for my country! Look for me North within +a few weeks.' It did come, as you know; and when one of my aunts--now +both married--ran laughingly in, with a blue cockade pinned on her +shoulders, exclaiming: + +"'Father, we are out!' + +"She stopped in horror, and looked upon the calm, cold face. But the +spirit had fled. We know not if he had heard or not, but I trust he +had passed to perfect peace before his heart had been so sorely tried. + +Next to our plantation was the estate of one of the oldest, +wealthiest, and proudest families of the State. The daughter and I had +grown up together, and I loved her more than all and everything else +on earth. Her brother and I were very intimate--both having no +brother, we were everything to each other. He had mounted the Palmetto +badge, and was all for war. My mind was no longer wavering, since my +grandfather's death. I was going up North, and, after a short visit to +my mother's sister--the wife of a very influential and patriotic man +in Boston--I would offer myself to my government. Now, you will know +my sorrow. + +"I had expected to meet opposition, entreaties, reproaches, and +everything of that sort. So, preparing myself as well as I could, I +rode over to bid my idol good-by. + +"I met Harry first, and telling him I was going North, to leave +fortune, friends and everything for my country. + +"'What, Paul, desert your State in her hour of need? Never! You, a +Southern man? Your interests, your honor, are with us.' + +"Much passed between us; when he, laughingly, said: + +"'Go in and see sister; she will talk you out of this whim.' + +"I cannot tell you how she first coaxed, then argued, then chided me +with not loving her, and then came--oh, such contempt! You have no +idea of the trial to me. She talked as only a Southern girl talks--so +proud, so unyielding. And when I said: + +"'Let us part at least friends. Say God bless me, for the sake of the +past!' + +"'No,' she said, 'no friend. With a traitor to his State, or a +coward--no, I will never say God bless you! and never do you take my +name on your lips from this day. I would die of shame to have it known +that I was ever loved by an Arnold! Go! leave me; and if you raise +your arm against the South, I hope you may not live to feel the shame +which will follow you.' + +"I met Harry again on the lawn, and he exclaimed: + +"'Good-by, Paul. Give us your hand. You are honest, and will sacrifice +everything, I see; but you are all wrong. God bless you! + +"And he threw his arms round me, and so I left them. + +"I cannot tell you how I suffered. It seems as if I have lived a +century since then. Did I not know the unbounded pride of a Southern +girl, I should doubt her ever loving me. I have never mentioned her +name since that day, and never shall. Now, my friend, you see I have +little to live for. Soon after my arrival in Boston the Sixteenth was +forming. I enlisted, to the horror of my aunt, as a private. My friend +would have procured me a commission, but I preferred to go in the +ranks and work my way up if I lived, and here is my commission, +received after you left yesterday. I brought my colonel off the field, +and was wounded when I went to get him. It is a first lieutenant's; +but I fear I shall never wear my straps." + +"Yes, you will. You are getting better slowly, but surely; and, my +friend, you must cheer up--believe 'He doeth all things well'--have +faith--live for your country. I feel that all will be well with you +yet. 'Hope on, hope ever.'" + +I went and saw Dr. B.; told him it was as I had thought. + +I gave him an idea of the trouble and left. + +I had become so much interested in Ashton that I had almost ceased my +visits to the other hospitals, except an occasional one to the "Armory +Square," where I had a few friends. I thought I would go over and make +a visit there this afternoon. + +I went into ward C, and, after seeing how well my boys were getting +on, I inquired after the lady nurse, Mrs. A., a widow lady, to whom I +had become much attached for her devotion to the soldiers. + +"She has gone home to recruit her health; has been away ten days; she +left the day after you were here last," replied one of the boys. "But +we have, just think, in her place a lady from the South--Miss or Mrs., +indeed I do not know which, for I have never heard her spoken of other +than Emma Mason. But here she comes." + +I had time to look at her for several moments before she came to the +patient I was sitting by. She might be seventeen or twenty-seven, I +could not tell. She was dressed in the deepest black--her hair drawn +tightly back from her face, and almost entirely covered by a black +net. Her complexion was a clear olive, but so very pale. Every feature +was very beautiful, but her greatest attraction was her large, dark +blue eyes, shaded by long black lashes. She came up smiling sweetly on +the wounded boy, and said: + +"You are looking quite bright, Willie; you have a friend, I see, with +you." + +I was then introduced to Emma Mason. When she smiled she looked very +young. I thought her as beautiful a girl as I had ever seen; but in a +few seconds the smile passed off, and there came a look of sorrow--a +yearning, eager gaze--which made her look very much older. I went +round with her to visit the different patients, telling her of my +great interest in the soldiers, and trying to win her confidence. I +was very anxious to know something of her history, but I could gain +nothing; and, giving it up in despair, I bade her good-evening, and +was leaving the ward when she called me and said: + +"Will you be kind enough to notice among the soldiers you may meet +from Boston, and if you find this name let me know immediately?" + +I took the card and read, "Paul Ashton, 16th Mass. Vol." I started, +and was about telling her where he was, when I was stopped by seeing +the deathly pallor of her face. + +She said, scarcely above a whisper: + +"Is he living?" + +I said I was only about to tell her I felt sure I could hear of him, +as I knew many of that regiment. I felt that I must not tell her then. +I must find out more of her first. + +She looked disappointed, and said: + +"I heard that regiment was in the last battle. Have you seen any since +that time? I am deeply interested in that soldier; he was my only +brother's most intimate friend." + +I told her I should go the next day, probably, to the "Douglas," and +if I had any tidings I would let her know. And so I left her, anxious +to be alone, to think over and plan about this new development in +Ashton's history. Who was she? Could she be his lost love? Impossible! +This nurse in a Union hospital! No, never! She must be down in her +Southern home. What should I do? Go tell Ashton? No, that would not do +yet. So I worried about it, and at last I decided I would sleep on it, +and my mind would be clearer for action in the morning. + +I could not divert my mind from the idea that it must be the girl +whose name I had never heard. + +Next morning my mind was made up, I went over to see Ashton; found +him in poorer spirits than ever. I sat down and tried to cheer him up. +He said: + +"I feel more miserable this morning than ever in my life before. I +have a furlough for thirty days, but I do not care to take it. I am as +well here as anywhere." + +I said: "I have often found that the darkest hours are many times +followed by the brightest. Cheer up. I feel as if you would have some +comfort before long, and see! Why, here you have a bouquet with so +many 'heart's-eases' in it. Heaven grant it may be a token of coming +ease and happiness. Who gave these to you? It is rarely we see them at +this season." + +"Sister L. gave them to me; they came from the greenhouse." + +I told him I should see him again that afternoon, and taking my leave, +went over to see the nurse at the armory. She came quickly forward to +see me, and said: + +"Have you any news----" + +"I have heard of him; he was in the battle and very severely wounded, +but living when my friend last heard of him." + +"When was that? Where is he?" she exclaimed, hurriedly. "You know +more, I can see; please tell me." + +I answered her: + +"I will tell you all, but I must beg of you a little confidence in +return. I saw him myself, and helped to nurse him--was very much +interested in him; he was terribly ill and is now very, very weak--his +recovery doubtful. He has told me much of his past life. Now, will you +not tell me what he is to you, for I see you are deeply moved?" + +"Did he tell you anything of the girl who drove him off without a +kind word--heaping upon him reproaches and wounding his noble heart +to the core? If he did, it was I. Oh, how I have suffered since! Even +when I accused him of cowardice and treachery, in my heart I was proud +of him. Oh! tell me where he is, that I may go to him. I have been +looking for him every moment since the battle. Take me, please?" + +"He is at the 'Douglas,' but very sick; I saw him not two hours ago. I +fear any sudden shock, even of joy. You are never absent from his +mind: he has never mentioned your name, but he has told me much. Now, +tell me, will you not, how it is you are here? And then we most devise +a plan to take you to him without too great a shock." + +She said: + +"These black robes are for my brother. He bade me do what I could for +the suffering and wounded on both sides, and find Paul. I will give +you a letter I received written by him a few days previous to his +death. After you have read it you will then understand better why I am +here." + +And leaving the ward for a few moments she returned and handed me the +letter. The writing plainly told that the writer was very weak. I give +it to you, my dear reader, every word; I could not do justice by +relating in my own style: + + SISTER--I am wounded, and must die. I have felt it for several + days. The doctor and the kind boys try to cheer me up, but I've + been growing weaker daily. The suffering in my breast is + terrible. I had a Minnie ball pass through my left lung. I have + been very much frightened about dying, and wanted to live; but + last night I had a dream which has produced a great change. Now I + feel sure I shall die, and am content. I am with the Union boys; + they are very kind. The one next me fanned me and rubbed my side + until I fell asleep last night, and slept better than I have + since I've been wounded. Now, darling sister, here is my dream: I + thought I had been fighting, and having been wounded, was carried + off the field and was laid under a large tree; after being there + a little while I felt some one clasp my hand; looking up, I found + Paul, He also had been wounded. + + He handed me his canteen, and while drinking I seemed to get + quite easy. There seemed to be a great mist all over us; I could + see nothing for a little while. Again I heard my name called, and + looking up, found the mist had cleared away, and our + great-grandfather (whom I knew well, from the old portrait, which + we used to be so proud of, father telling us he was one of the + signers of the "Declaration") was standing before me, but he did + not look smiling like the face of the picture; but, oh! so sad + and stern. In his hand he had a beautiful wreath of ivy, which + he, stooping, placed on the brow of Paul, saying, "Live, + boy--your country wants you;" and stretching forth his hand, he + drew me to a stand near him on which stood our old family Bible, + ink and pen. He opened to the births, and putting his finger on + my name, he raised the pen and marked a heavy black line over the + H, and was proceeding, when his hand was caught by our old nurse, + Mammy Chloe, who has been dead years, you know, who pointed over + toward the west of us, and there stood a large shining cross with + these words over it, "Unless ye forgive men their trespasses, how + can your Heavenly Father forgive you?" And coming up to me, put + forth her hand and beckoned me to follow her. Then the old + gentleman spoke and said, "Your blood will blot out your + disgrace;" and turning the leaf, he pointed to the "Deaths," and + I read, "On the 28th of September, 1862, Harry Clay Mason, aged + 21;" and then I woke up. This is the 20th; I think I shall live + until that day. Now I bid you go carry mother to somewhere North, + to Paul's friends; they will be kind to her and try to comfort + her, and go you and devote yourself to the suffering soldiers, + and find Paul, if possible; he will live, I know; tell him how I + loved him, yet, and honored him, although I thought him wrong. + Tell him good-by. And to mother, try to soften this blow as much + as possible. Tell her I am happy now. I think God will pardon me + for my sins, for His Son's sake. There is a boy from my regiment + expecting to be parolled, and he has promised to deliver this to + you. Good-by. God bless you, darling. Lovingly, + + HARRY. + Fairfax, Va. + +I was much affected. After a few moments I said: "How long did he +live?" + +"He lived, seemingly growing much better, until the afternoon of the +twenty-eighth. He was then taken with hemorrhage and so passed away." +And pushing her hair back from her temples, she said: + +"These came the night I got that letter." And I saw the numberless +white hairs gleaming amid her raven locks. I said: + +"Come, we will go to him. I think you had better write a little note +to him; you know best what to say, but do not tell him you are here +just yet, but something to set his heart at peace; and I will tell him +it was given me by a Southerner I found in the hospital." + +"Yes," she said; "you are very thoughtful, that is just the thing." + +And she went into the ante-room, and soon came out, and giving me the +note, said: + +"You know all; read it." + +And I read: "Paul, forgive and love me again. I shall try to come to +you soon." + +So we proceeded to the "Douglas," and I went in, found Dr. B., told +him and asked if we might venture in. He thought better to break it +gently at first, and promising to stay near in case of being needed, +laughingly said to Miss Mason: + +"Now, if I was a doctor of divinity, I should be wishing to be sent +for." + +Leaving her in his charge, I went in. + +"Back so soon?" Ashton said. "How bright and cheerful you look!" + +I sat down and said, "Yes, I have some pleasant news; I have a letter +for you; I met with a Southerner who knew a friend of yours, who gave +me this for you. It may be from your aunt, and you may hear from your +lady love, possibly." + +He caught the letter, tore off the envelope, and read. I was +frightened--he never spoke a word or moved. Then, "Thank God!" burst +forth in heart-felt tones. + +I saw he was all right. I said: + +"You must now commence to think of her coming and being with you, for +it is some time since that person left the South, and you may look for +her any time. I was told that the family were intimate with Mr. Davis, +and they were to have a 'pass' North to find 'the son.' I then told +him I had wanted to prepare him, for she was really in Washington, and +I had met her--she had given me the note for him. He seemed to divine +all, and said: + +"Bring her to me. I am strong and well now." + +I sent the attendant to Dr. B.'s room, and in a few moments she was +beside him. + +"Forgiven!" she murmured; and, bending, pressed her lips to his pale +forehead, and taking his hand, she sat on the cot beside him. There +was little said, but + + "Eyes looked love to eyes that spake again." + +So they remained until the sun went down and it was getting quite +dark, when Dr. B. came in and said: + +"Ah, Ashton, you have a more skillful physician than I. She has done +more for you in five minutes than I have for as many weeks, I guess +you will take that furlough and commission now, Lieutenant Ashton." + +He took Dr. B.'s hand, and said: + +"Under God, doctor, by your skillful hand and great kindness, with the +attentions of the good friends here, I have been kept alive for this +day." + +Emma Mason bade him good-night, saying she must go over to her boys +again, and get her discharge from the surgeon in charge. + +In three days Ashton bade adieu to his friends in the "Douglas," and +with Miss Mason, Dr. B. and myself, he got into the carriage waiting, +directing the driver to stop at the residence of the Rev. Dr. Smith. +There they were united, and received our heart-felt congratulations, +and proceeded to the cars, which soon bore them to their friends +North. + +A few days ago a servant came to my room, bringing a card. + +I read: "Paul Ashton and wife." + +I almost flew down to them. They were on their way South to settle up +their property and provide for the old servants who remained there. +Paul had returned to the army and remained until the close of the war, +having reached the rank of colonel. He is looking very well. He has +been offered a commission in the regular service, but his wife says +his country had him when he was needed, but she must have him now. +They are taking with them the remains of poor Harry, to place beside +his father in their Southern home. His mother is now quite resigned, +and says she is only waiting God's will to meet her friends above. + + * * * * * + + + + +EARNEST AND TRUE. + +BY FRANCES HENSHAW BADEN. + + But still our place is kept and it will not wait; + Ready for us to fill it soon or late, + No star is ever lost we once have seen, + We always MAY be, what we MIGHT have been. + + +"You have never loved me, Constance, or you could not thus calmly bid +me go, without one word of hope for the future. Only say that I may +some day call you mine, and I will win a name that you will not blush +to bear." + +"Would to Heaven I could, Ernest; but I can see no hope of my father's +relenting. You heard how determined he was never to consent to my +union with any one save Gerald. You say I have never loved you! +Believing this, it will not be so hard for you to leave me. It is +useless prolonging this interview! Every moment brings an increase of +agony, making it harder to part. Bid me good-by, say God bless me, and +go quickly, if you have any mercy for me." + +"Listen just for a moment more! Oh, my darling, forgive my hasty +word; but, Constance, if your love was as devoted and single as mine +you would not thus resign one who loves you only of all the world; no +one shares my heart with you. I know you love me, but not as I would +be loved, or you would leave father and mother and cling to me. What +right has your father, or any other father, to blast his child's +happiness? Heed him not, love, but come with me. I will never let you +feel a single regret. I will love you more than all their love +combined. Nay, do not turn aside--you must hear me. Think what you are +doing! wrecking my happiness, casting me forth, without hope, to drag +out a miserable, useless existence. I may be cursed with long life. +Constance, darling, come with me! With your parents it will only be a +short grief--disappointed ambition--and, at the most, only the +thwarting of their proud hopes. They will soon get over it; but even +if they should not, in all human probability they have not the length +of days to suffer that we have. Bid me hope!" + +"Ernest, Heaven only knows what a severe trial this is to me. Yet your +words only strengthen me in my duty. It is true, as you say, my +parents are old. Can I grieve and wring their careworn hearts? No, no! +What recompense can a child make her parents for all their unselfish +love, and constant watching over, and providing for, from the first +feeble baby days, to the time when they could, if willing, return all +this, by simple duty; obedience to their will. Think, Ernest, how, in +my days of illness, my mother watched over and soothed me. The long, +sleepless nights spent over my cradle--praying God to spare her +child--for what? to prove an ungrateful one! Oh, no! I could look for +no blessing on our union if I should be deaf to the pleading of my +parents, and heedless of God's own command. + +"Perhaps some time hence they may think differently. Then, if you +have not sought and won another, we may be happy. One thing you may +rest assured of, I shall never wed Gerald Moreton, or any other. I +obeyed my father in resigning you, but cannot perjure myself by taking +the marriage vows, even at their command. Do not leave me in anger, +Ernest. Let your last look be of kindness and forgiveness for the +sorrow I cause you. Now, a long look into your eyes, to engrave them +forever on my heart. Good-by--God bless you, Ernest." + +She held out her arms, and was clasped in a long, last embrace. +Breaking away, she was soon lost to view among the deep shadows of the +garden. + +"And this is the end! This is woman's love! Mere filial duty, I should +say. Well, well, a final adieu to all thought of love. In future I +devote myself to ambition, wedded only to my profession, in hope that +in this I shall not meet with another such reward." + +Constance Lyle was the only child of wealthy parents. Ever since her +infancy her father had cherished the hope of uniting her with his +ward, Gerald Moreton, the son of a very dear friend. Gerald was left +an orphan before he had reached his tenth year. When Mr. Moreton, on +his deathbed, placed his son under the care of his old friend, he +intimated his desire that some time in the future, the little +Constance (scarcely then four years old) should bear the name of +Moreton. To this Mr. Lyle readily agreed. The little Gerald was truly +a noble boy, and he was much attached to him, years before having lost +a son of the same age; this child of his dearest friend had, in some +degree, served to fill the aching void. Again, Gerald's prospects were +very brilliant; but, to do Mr. Lyle justice, more than all this was +the desire to please his friend, to make some amends for the past. In +years gone by these two men had been rivals for the love of +Constance's mother. + +Moreton was a high-minded, noble fellow, and when he became sure that +young Lyle was the favored one, not a thought of ill-feeling entered +his heart against his friend; but going to him, with his usual candor +and generosity, he said: + +"I shall go away for a while. It will be rather too much for me to +bear witnessing your happiness, just yet. I shall get over it in time, +though. Heaven bless you, dear friend, and grant you happiness and +prosperity. No one will pray for your welfare more sincerely than +myself. Bid her good-by for me. After a while I'll be back, to stand +god-father to some of your little ones, perhaps." + +He remained away three years; and then returned home, bringing with +him a fair, fragile little creature, who remained with him scarce two +years; leaving the little Gerald to comfort and console the bereaved +man, and be a loving reminder of the gentle little dove, who had loved +him so dearly, and then winged her flight above, to watch over and +pray for the coming of her loved ones. + +So it was that Mr. Lyle would look with no favor, or even patience, on +any suitor. Even when Constance herself pleaded for Ernest Ellwood, +telling him she could never love Gerald other than as a brother; and +if he would not give her to the one she loved, that she would remain +with them, but would never wed where she could not love. + +Still he remained firm in his determination to give her to his +friend's son or no one. + +Years passed by--but she continued as firm and determined in her +resolve as her father in his. + +Gerald, like his father, was a noble fellow. He loved Constance, but +when he found his love was a source of grief to her, he began to set +himself to work to devise means of rendering her path in life rather +more pleasant. She did not murmur at her self-sacrifice; this she +considered her duty; but the constant and continual entreaties for the +marriage wore upon her, and made her life almost miserable. + +Gerald told Mr. Lyle he must beg to resign all pretensions to +Constance; that upon examining his heart, he found out that it was as +a sister he loved her, and was not willing to render her unhappy by +making her his wife. If his father were living he would not wish it. +That he thought a promise, made to the dead, had much better be +broken, than kept by making the living miserable. + +So, to carry out his views, he left home for a summer trip. After +being absent three months, he wrote to Constance that he had decided +to remain a while longer; and at the end of another month came a +letter to Mr. Lyle, saying that he was about to be married--desiring +certain business arrangements to be made--and ending by the remark, +that he knew this marriage would not meet with the cordial approval of +his kind guardian, and for this he was truly sorry; but was more than +compensated for this by the knowledge that he had the best wishes of +his dear sister, Constance, and begged Mr. Lyle to try and render her +happy, in return for her unhappiness during the last ten years. + +This was a dreadful blow to Mr. Lyle, and he declared that if Ernest +Ellwood had not crossed their path that his dearest hopes would not +have been thwarted. Not for a moment did he relent. + +Constance had heard nothing from Ernest since she parted from him, +except once, about five years after. She picked up a Western paper, +and saw his name mentioned as one of the rising men of ---- State--an +extract from a political speech made by him--and finally the +prediction of a brilliant career for this young man, whose talents and +eloquence were placing him before the people, who, even now, in so +young a man, recognized a master-spirit; and in all probability very +shortly he would speak for his adopted State in the halls of the +national Capitol. + +This slip was cut out and treasured by her--and once when her father +was grumbling and predicting bad luck to his evil genius, as he called +him, she brought forth and displayed, with a grateful heart, this +notice to prove she had not loved unworthily. + +Her father listened with interest to the extract from the speech and +the comments relative to the speaker. He had been considerable of a +politician, and as Ernest was of the same party as himself, he felt +really glad of his brilliant prospects. + +"In all probability he is married long ago, and has almost, if not +quite, forgotten you, Constance. At any rate, you see your sending him +off did no hurt. Men are sensible; they don't die of love. Something +more formidable, in the way of disease, must attack to carry them off, +or affect their minds, either. Yes, yes, child, be sure he has +transferred his affections long ago," remarked the father. + +"I cannot tell, father. Perhaps it is so; you can judge of man's +constancy better than I. If I judged him, it would be by my own heart, +then I should be sure he is not married. I think that when alone, and +freed from the care and toil of business, or, at rest from his +studies, that his mind wanders back to the girl of his love. No! no! +he has not forgotten me." + +One after another of the joyous new years rushed into the world, +passing on to maturity, growing older, and finally passing out, +leaving the gentle, submissive girl, as they had found her, devoting +herself to her father. + +Now disease had settled on Mr. Lyle. For years he had been an invalid, +nervous, fretful and impatient. No one but Constance could suit him. +Not even his wife. Her gentle hand, only, could soothe his suffering. +Her soft, loving tones alone would quiet his paroxysm of nervousness. + +Time passed on, and Death entered the home of Constance, not to +disturb the long-suffering father, but taking the apparently healthy +mother. Swiftly, quietly, and without suffering, she passed from her +slumbers to the home of her Maker. + +This was a terrible trial for the poor girl. She almost sank under it; +but in a little while she rose above her own sorrows. Bowing with +submission to the will of God, she now felt why it was her young hopes +had been blasted. Before, all was dark; now, she saw plainly. She +alone was left to cheer and solace the stricken father. No longer a +single regret lingered in her heart. All was well. A holy calm broke +over her, and she became almost happy, blessed with an approving +conscience. + +Suffering at last softened the stern nature of Mr. Lyle, and opened +his eyes to the value of his child. He knew her devotion, her patient, +untiring attendance on him, and he felt what a blessed boon she had +been to him, and how illy he had merited so much loving kindness! + +On one occasion he said: + +"My daughter, I do not deserve such a blessing as you are to me. I +have been very harsh and relentless, and caused you much sorrow; would +that I could call back the past, and act differently. Heaven only +knows how grieved I am for my mistaken views and actions." + +Going up, and putting her arms around him, she replied: + +"Do not worry about the past, father dear, nor about your daughter. +Believe me, I am happy with you; and have no regrets. I would not be +absent from you during your suffering, even to be with him." + +"Where is Ernest? Do you love him still?" he asked. + +"I only know (through the papers) that he has been elected to +Congress. About my still loving him, depends entirely on whether I +have the right to do so; he may have given that to another," she +replied, and called to her beautiful lips a sweet smile, to try to +convince him, more than her words would, that she was content, +whate'er her lot should be. + +It is a few weeks after the meeting of Congress. All Washington is on +the _qui vive_ about the passage of the ---- Bill, and the appeal to be +made in its favor by the new member from ----. + +Constance Lyle stands before her mirror. More than usual care has she +bestowed on her toilet. + +We will play eavesdropper, dear reader, just for once, and peep over +her shoulder, to view the changes time has made. No longer the fresh, +brilliant beauty of her youthful days. Constant confinement in the +sickroom, care, and anxiety have faded the roses that used to bloom on +her cheeks; but to us she is more charming, this pale beauty, with her +gentle dignity, and sweet, patient look, than the bright, merry girl +of years ago. + +There is something about her which makes us think we would like ever +to be near her, side by side, to pass on life's pathway, feeling sure +her beauty would never wane, but wax purer and brighter as she neared +her journey's end. Listen! She says: + +"How strange my birthday should be the one for his speech! This day I +shall see him for the first time for fifteen years. Yes, I am +thirty-three to-day, and this is the anniversary of our parting!" + +Leaving her room she is soon by her father's side. + +"I'll have to go early, father, dear. It will be very crowded, and +Gerald is waiting. His wife is going to stay with you during my +absence." + +"How well you look, my daughter! Why, really, you are getting young +again!" + +"This is my birthday, father. I am a maiden of no particular age to +the public, but I whisper in your ear privately," she joyously said; +and, suiting the action to the word, bent down, whispered, kissed him, +and was gone. + +"How time flies! But she is still very beautiful. Heaven grant my +prayers may be answered. She deserves to be happy; and when I am gone +she will be very lonely, and then feel keenly my harsh treatment," he +murmured. + +Wearily passed the hours until he heard her light step on the stairs. +She came in. He thought there seemed a shadow on her face, but she +came forward, and said, pleasantly: + +"Well, father, you are likely to keep your daughter. I heard Ernest. I +had not expected too much; he was grandly eloquent. He has altered in +his looks; he seems much older, and is quite gray; mental work and +hard study, he says." + +"Then you saw him, and spoke to him! What do you mean by saying I +shall keep you? Is he mar----" + +"Yes," she replied, before he had finished his question. "He +introduced me to his daughter, a little miss of about twelve; so you +were right when you said that men were too sensible to suffer for or +from love. He must have married in two years after he left us. Gerald +left little Constance and me in the library, and went and brought him +to see us. We were with him only a very short time, when he was sent +for. He excused himself, and bade us good-day. Now, father, I will +remove my wrappings, and order dinner." + +Day after day passed on, and Constance had schooled herself to think +of Ernest only as a happy husband and father. She did not blame him +for taking a companion. He was away from all kindred and friends, and +she had given him no hope to induce him to wait through all these +years for her. + +One day, just a week after their meeting at Congress, she was sitting +reading to her father, when a servant entered, and handed a card. She +read, Ernest Ellwood! + +Paler for a few moments, and tightly pressed were the sweet lips. She +did not rise from her seat, until she had communed with her heart. +Now, she thought, I must call up all my fortitude and self-control, +and prove to Ernest, to my father, and, more than all, to myself, that +my heart is not troubled! + +"Father," she said, "Ernest is below. He is waiting, probably, to +inquire after you. I told him you had long been an invalid. Will you +see him?" + +"I would rather not, darling, unless you wish it. Go down a while, and +if he must come up, let me know first." + +Slowly she descended the steps, passed through the long hall, and +entered the drawing-room, advancing with quiet dignity to welcome the +distinguished representative. + +He listened a moment to her words, so calm and cold; then, clasping +her in his arms, he drew her down beside him, and said: + +"Oh, my darling! thank Heaven, I find you still Constance Lyle!" + +She tried to draw herself away from his side, but his arms held her +tightly, and his hand clasped hers. His eyes were gazing so earnestly +and lovingly in hers, as in by-gone days. She tried to speak, but he +said: + +"Nay, my beautiful love, you must not move or speak until you have +heard me through, and then I shall await your verdict. I know you +think it so strange that I have not been to you before. I have been +the victim of a miserable mistake. The day I entered this city I +walked past here to catch a glimpse of you, perhaps. As I neared the +door, I beheld seated on the steps that pretty little girl that I +afterward saw with you. I stopped, spoke to her, and asked her name. +Constance, she told me, and her father's, Gerald. Oh, my love, the +long years of suspense were ended to me then! I cannot tell you how +dark the world seemed to me then. I struggled on, however, with my +sorrows. Then I met you. Your being with Gerald and having the little +one with you only too truly proved that my conjecture was right. I saw +you, as I believed, the happy wife of Gerald, and knew no difference +until this morning. When I met him then, he stopped and urged me to +come and see him. I asked after his wife, and remarked that time had +changed her but very little, when, to my amazement, he said he did not +know I had ever met Mrs. Moreton. Then came the explanation. I parted +with the noble fellow only a few moments ago, and here I am now. Tell +me, love, that all my waiting--never wandering from my love for you +for an hour, has not been in vain. Speak, love!" + +"Ernest Ellwood, what mean you by speaking to me thus? Allow me to +rise. Your mind is certainly very much affected. Nothing but insanity +can excuse this language to me. I will order the carriage to convey +you home to your wife and daughter." + +"My wife--oh, yes, now I know. Gerald told me. We have all been very +busy blundering. My darling, I have no wife or daughter. Louise is +only mine by adoption. Her father was my dearest friend. This little +one was placed in my arms, an orphan, when only three years old--and +she knew no parent but myself. Can I go to your father, love?" + +She no longer tried to release herself from his arms. Lower and lower +drooped the beautiful head until it was pillowed on his breast. He +felt her heart throbbing against his own, and almost bursting with its +fulness of joy. He was answered--rewarded for all the years of +waiting. + +At length she raised her head. In her eyes he saw all the love of +years beaming there. + +"At last, my Ernest," she said. "I must go to father first and prepare +him to see you." + +Springing lightly up the stairs, she entered the room and stood beside +her father's armchair. + +He saw her beaming look, and said: + +"What is it, Constance? What has brought this great joy to you? You +look so happy." + +"Father, we have all been under a great mistake. Ernest has never been +married. That was his adopted daughter. He is waiting to see you; may +I bring him up?" + +"Yes, yes. Thank God! my prayers are answered." + +In a few moments she stands before him, with her hand clasped in +Ernest's. + +"Here I am again, Mr. Lyle, as in years gone by, pleading for your +blessing on our love. May I have her now, after all these years of +waiting?" + +"Ernest Moreton, I am profoundly thankful to Heaven for sparing me to +see this day. Welcome back to your home and old friends, and welcome +to the hand of my daughter. Take her; she has been a loving, patient, +dutiful child. She has brightened and cheered my path for a long, +weary time, and now I resign this blessing to you, and beg your +forgiveness for these long years, lost to both, which might have been +passed happily together." + +"Not resign, but only share with me, this blessing; she shall never +leave you, sir," replied Ernest. + +"Father, do not speak of years lost; they have not been. Ernest would +not have gone away, and devoted himself to study, if we had been +united then; just think then what his adopted State would have lost! +and I have been cheering you--think what you would have lost without +your little Constance! Nay, there is nothing lost; all is gain, and +simply by keeping God's command, 'Honor thy father and thy mother.'" + +"Let me come in to rejoice with you all, and make my speech," +exclaimed the noble Gerald, grasping the hand of each. "I say that +they are worthy of each other. He by his earnest, unwavering love for +his lady fair, and earnest, untiring endeavors to serve his State--who +has now won the respect and confidence of his countrymen--he alone is +worthy of the woman ever constant to her early love, yet never +faltering in her chosen path of filial duty." + + * * * * * + + + + +WHY HE WAS MERCIFUL. + +BY FRANCES HENSHAW BADEN. + + Who made the heart, 'tis He alone + Decidedly can try us; + He knows each chord--its various tone; + Each spring--its various bias; + Then at the balance let's be mute-- + We never can adjust it; + What's done, we partly may compute-- + We know not what's resisted.--ROBERT BURNS. + + +"How is it, my old friend, that you are so very lenient to these young +thieves? Your sentence was very unexpected. Every one thought you +would, at least, send them to the State's prison for three or four +years. The young rascals were amazed themselves. The House of +Correction for six months has not much terror for them. Do you know +that it has become a common saying among the members of the bar that +our venerated and respected judge has a strong sympathy--in a word, a +fellow-feeling--for all young thieves! I think you will have to commit +a few of those gentlemen for contempt." + +"I do not wonder, at all, Mr. Archer, at any, indeed, every one, +thinking and saying as much," said Mrs. Morley, the wife of the judge, +just entering the room in time to hear the concluding part of Mr. +Archer's remarks. "Only a few months ago the judge could not possibly +help sentencing a boy to the State's prison; but, before the time for +entry came, he succeeded in getting his pardon; and, more than this, +he has brought him here, into his own home-circle, with the idea of +reforming him." + +"My dear wife, have you any cause, so far, to think I shall fail? Has +not the boy proved grateful and worthy?" asked the judge, in a mild, +though very sad, voice. + +"Yes, yes; but how you can have any patience with such characters, I +cannot imagine," answered his wife. + +"Sit still, Archer, if you have no engagement; I am going to tell my +wife a little story, which will probably explain my charity toward +those unfortunate youths that you have spoken of; and, indeed, all +such. You, as my oldest and most valued friend, shall share the +hearing, if you wish." + +"Many thanks for the privilege, with my deep appreciation for your +kindness in thinking of me thus," returned Mr. Archer, warmly, at the +same time resuming his seat. + +"The story I have to tell you came under my immediate observation. I +was quite well acquainted with the principal character. + +"Very many years ago, and not far distant from this city, lived an +orphan boy, scarce fifteen years of age--bereaved, at one cruel blow, +by a prevailing epidemic, of both parents, and left to the care of an +uncle (his father's brother), a hard, cruel man. + +"A few hundred dollars, quite sufficient, however, to support and +continue the boy's studies, for a few years, was left in the hands of +the uncle. But of this there was no proof--no will or last testament +was left. + +"Death came so swiftly there was little time for aught save an +appealing look from son to brother, and the pleading voice murmured: + +"'Be a father to my boy, Oh! deal justly, kindly towards him!' + +"In a very few days the sensitive mind of the poor boy too truly +perceived that he was not a welcome inmate. Before a month had passed +he was withdrawn from school; his love of study was discouraged; in +fact, made a source of ridicule; and his time so completely taken up +with hard work on the farm, there was no chance for aught else. + +"On one occasion George (we will call him) ventured a remonstrance +with his uncle--alluding to the money in his possession to be used for +George's education and support. Judge of his amazement and indignation +when the bad man denied having one dollar in trust for him, and ended +by calling him a pauper, and saying he would have to work for his +bread. + +"The future, there, was very plain to George; a life of +ignorance--nothing higher than a mere farm drudge. His mind was +determined against that. Privation, suffering, death, even, were +preferable. The next day found him a fugitive from injustice and +dishonesty--a lonely traveler on the path of life. Seeking Fortune, to +find and be treated by that whimsical goddess with good or ill. To be +smiled or frowned upon, to be mounted upon the triumphing waves, +rising higher and higher, until he had reached the pinnacle of Fame, +or drifted about, sinking lower and lower in the dark waters, at last +reaching the pool of Dishonesty, Despair, Death! + +"Ah! who could tell which fate would be his? + +"Oh, how I can sympathize with all such! looking back on my own +pathway to manhood; remembering the dangers, temptations and +numberless snares that youths have to encounter. In fact, to pass +through a fiery furnace! And how very few are they, that come forth, +unscarred, and purified! + +"Remembering this, I exclaim, 'How was I saved?' And then my heart, +almost bursting with gratitude, forces the words to my lips--by God's +mercy alone! + +"Taking with him a few favorite books--a change of linen--he bade +adieu to the home so laden with bitter memories. + +"A day's weary travel brought him to the city of L----. Here, for many +days, until the autumn came on, he managed to subsist--doing little +chores, carrying a carpet-bag or bundle--earning enough to sustain +life merely, and sleeping in the depot or market-house. + +"At length the cold days and colder nights came on; work was very hard +to find, and our poor boy's fortitude was severely tried. + +"The day of his trial, his direst temptation, came! For twenty-four +hours he had not tasted food. A cold, bleak night was fast +approaching. One after another of his books had gone to get a piece of +bread. Now nothing was left but starvation or--the boy dare hardly +breathe it to himself--or dishonesty! + +"He must have food somehow. Loitering about the depot, watching a +chance to earn a few pennies, he saw a gentleman alight from a +carriage, take out his pocketbook, pay the driver, and return it, as +he supposed, to his pocket. + +"It was almost dark, yet the eager eye of the hungry boy saw what had +escaped the driver's. + +"There, in that gutter, lay the surety against suffering for that and +many coming nights. + +"He was about to rush forward and secure the prize--the lost +pocketbook--but caution whispered, 'Be sharp! you may be seen.' And +then, with the cunning and slyness of an old thief--thus suddenly +taught by keen suffering--he sauntered along, crossing the gutter, +stumbled and fell; then put out his hand, covered and secured his +treasure, slowly arose, and feigning a slight lameness, he retraced +his steps towards the depot, entered the waiting-room, which he felt +sure would be unoccupied at that hour. Getting behind the warm stove +and close to the dim lamp, he opened the pocketbook--gold! notes! +tens, twenties! over a hundred dollars met his gaze! When had he seen +so much? His--all his! Had he not found it? Possibly he might have +overtaken the owner and restored it, but what was the use of throwing +away good luck! But already Conscience was at work. Turning over the +notes he found a little silken bag. Opening it, he drew forth a +miniature painting of a beautiful little girl, and on the back was +written: + +"'Our darling! three years old to-day.' + +"It was a lovely, angelic face. The boy was fascinated, spellbound by +it. Long he gazed. He grew very uneasy. His bosom heaved convulsively. +There were signs of violent emotion, and then burst forth the words: + +"'I have not stolen it. Who says so? I found it!' + +"Again he looks almost wildly at the picture; then whispers hoarsely: + +"'She says, "Thou shall not steal!" Can this be stealing? No--no, it +is not. It is luck. I am growing nervous from long fasting. Oh, +Heavens, how hungry I am! Bread, bread! I must have bread or die!' + +"Taking out a few small coins, he closed the pocketbook, putting the +little miniature in his bosom; then walked as swiftly as his failing +strength would allow; reached, and was about to enter, an +eating-house. At the door, he hesitated; and, drawing forth the little +picture, looked again at the baby-face. Now, to his eye, she has grown +older; and the face is so sad, with such an appealing look, which +speaks to his inmost heart. + +"The blue eyes were no longer the laughing ones of childhood; but, +oh! yes, it was really so--his mother's lovely, sad face was before +him! The same sweet, quivering lips, which seemed whispering so +earnestly: + +"'Thou shalt not steal!' + +"Thrusting the picture back to its hiding-place, he sank exhausted +from violent emotion and extreme weakness down on the stone steps. + +"Oh, the terrible struggle that was going on in that young breast! + +"The tearing pangs of hunger, the sharp stinging thrusts of conscience +were warring for the victory. Oh, those who have never known the pangs +of hunger can but poorly imagine that fearful struggle. At last, thank +God! Conscience triumphed. Honesty was victor. + +"Bursting into tears, he murmured: + +"'God forgive, and have mercy! Mother--little angel-girl smile on me!' + +"He returned the coin to the book, and clasping it tightly, replaced +it in his pocket. + +"'I will not touch one cent; and in the morning, if I live so long, I +will find some means to restore it to the owner--all but the little +picture--that angel-child has saved me, and I must keep her to watch +over me in the future.' + +"Slowly he arose, and was proceeding along the street, thinking he +could at least return and sleep in the depot, when a loud noise +attracted his attention. + +"A horse came dashing furiously along the street, drawing after him a +buggy in which was crouching a lady almost lifeless with terror. +Thoughts as swift as lightning flashed through his mind; he might save +her--what though he was trampled to death. Then he surely would be +relieved from suffering! + +"Summoning up all his little strength--then wonderfully increased by +excitement and manly courage--he rushed forward, faced the frightened +little animal, seized the reins, and was dragged some distance, still +holding firmly on--sustaining no injury save a few bruises--until he +succeeded in checking the wild flight. He saw his advantage; then, +with a kind voice, he spoke to the horse, patting and rubbing his head +and neck, until he became quite gentle. George knew the poor fellow +was not vicious but frightened at something he had seen or heard. + +"In a few moments he was joined by a crowd--among whom came a +gentleman limping and wearing a look of great anxiety. + +"George knew his thoughts, and said: + +"'The lady is not at all hurt, sir, only frightened.' + +"Several had seen the boy's action, and the owner of the horse soon +understood all about it. Many were his words of grateful +acknowledgment, and warmly shaking the boy's hand, he pushed into it a +half-eagle. + +"Looking at this a moment, again tempted by hunger, he hesitated--then +exclaimed: + +"'No, thank you, sir, I cannot take it. I am amply rewarded by having +succeeded in helping the lady.' + +"'Oh, do let us do something to prove our thanks. You look so weary, +and indeed, almost sick. Tell us how can we serve you,' said the lady, +who had not spoken until then. + +"These kind words brought tears to the boy's eyes; he tried to speak, +but his voice failed. + +"'There, my boy,' said the gentleman, 'it is growing very cold. We +live only a short way from here. I shall lead my horse, and you must +follow on. Supper is waiting for us; and after we have been refreshed +by a cup of hot coffee and something substantial, I shall insist on +being allowed to prove my thankfulness in some way or other.' + +"This kindness, George had neither the strength nor the will to +refuse. + +"Following on, he soon reached with them, the house of Dr. Perry. Such +a supper the famished boy had not seen since his parents' death, and +he did full justice to it. + +"The doctor's delicate kindness and cordial manner so won the boy, +that during the evening he told him his whole story, of his hard +struggles and dreadful temptation, and ended by producing the +pocketbook, and asking the doctor's advice as to the manner of +restoring it. + +"His kind friend suggested that there might be some clew to be found +inside as to whom it belonged. + +"Opening it, George carefully examined every part, and sure enough, +found a card with the probable name and address of the owner. + +"'Now, my boy, it is too late to-night, but in the morning you can go +find the place, inquire for the lady, and then ask "if her husband +left last night in the train for ----." If he did, then you may know +you have found the right person. Now about yourself, your future. What +are your ideas?' + +"'Oh! sir, if I could only earn enough to support me and get into the +City Academy, I should be the happiest boy alive. But it is so hard to +get a permit. I know I am quite far enough advanced to be able to keep +up with the boys. I could live on bread alone to be able to acquire +knowledge,' said the boy, with great earnestness. + +"'I am thankful, my young friend, I can now find a way to serve you. I +am one of the directors of that institution. You shall be entered, and +obtain all the advantages it offers. + +"'I see you are a proud boy and must feel that you are earning your +living. Come here to me every morning before, and after school has +closed in the afternoons. I wish you to take care of my office, and +keep my things in perfect order for me. What say you to this, and then +getting your meals with us?' + +"Oh! what joy was in that hitherto sorrowful heart. + +"Words could not express it; but clasping the doctor's hands, he +pressed them to his heart, and pointed upward. + +"His friend knew how grateful he was, and how very happy he had made +him. + +"Oh! had not God heard his prayer and speedily answered it. Mercy! how +freely, how bountifully, it was bestowed on him. + +"At last the words burst from his lips: 'Oh, God! I thank Thee.' + +"Early the following morn the pocketbook was restored; everything save +the miniature. This he kept, yet all the while feeling keenly that he +was guilty of a theft. Yet in this he did not feel that God was +offended. And often as he gazed at his little 'guardian angel,' as he +called her, he would say, smilingly: + +"She does not look reproachfully or seem to say, 'Thou shalt not steal +me.' + +"His mind was determined on the purpose to work every spare moment, +night and day, denying himself in every way, until he had secured +money sufficient to get the picture copied, and then return the +original. + +"Months passed on, prosperity smiled on him. His best friend, the +doctor, had full confidence in him. His teachers encouraged and +approved. All was well. + +"His miserable lodgings were before long resigned for a comfortable +room in the happy home of Dr. Perry, who insisted on this arrangement, +saying: + +"'George, your services fully repay me. My little son loves you +dearly, and has wonderfully improved in his studies, since he has been +under your charge. We want you with us as much as possible.' + +"Now, only one thing troubled him. The stolen picture. + +"At length he accomplished what once seemed an almost impossible +thing. The picture was copied and paid for; and George started to +return the original, the one that had rested in his bosom so long. How +he loved it! + +"It was a great sacrifice for him to give up that, and retain the +copy. However, he was somewhat compensated by the result of his +errand. + +"'Twas the fifth birthday of the little girl, and well he knew it. +Ascending the steps of her father's house, he rang the bell, which was +soon answered by a servant, and behind him came a bevy of little +girls, the foremost being the original of his picture, his little +'guardian angel.' + +"'More presents for me?" she asked, as he handed the precious parcel +into her tiny hands, extended for it. + +"'No, little one, for your father! Will you tell me your name?' he +asked. + +"'Oh, yes! My name is----'" + +"What was it?" eagerly asked Mrs. Morely. + +"Why are you so anxious? I'll punish you a little for interrupting me, +by not telling you," answered the judge, playfully. + +"Well, well, no matter; only go on," answered his wife, showing +plainly how deeply she was interested in his story. + +"The little one held her hand, saying: + +"'I am five years old to-day. Shake hands with me, Mr. ----I do not +know your name. Every one shakes hands and kisses me to-day.' + +"The youth clasped the dear little hand (held forth with the sweet +innocence of childhood and combined with a dignity well worthy of a +maid of twenty), and pressed on it a pure kiss, at the same time +breathing to himself the vow that, with God's blessing and help, to +win such a position that should enable him to seek and know this child +in her home. To try and make himself worthy of her; to win her love, +and in years to come to have her as his 'guardian angel' through life. + +"Often he would get a glimpse of her at the window or the door, this +giving him encouragement to work on. + +"Another year he was taken as assistant in the primary department of +the academy, this giving him a small income. + +"In two more years he had graduated with the highest honors. + +"His mind had been determined in favor of the law. His most ardent +wish to get in the office and read with the father of 'his little +love,' then a very distinguished lawyer. + +"This desire he made known to Dr. Perry, who readily encouraged it, +saying: + +"'I have no doubt, George, that you can succeed, backed by such +letters as we can give you. This gentleman is very kind and courteous, +and I think has no one with him at present. If I am not very much +mistaken, after you have seen and talked with him a short time, it +will be all right.' + +"And so it proved. In a few days more George was studying under the +same roof with the child of all his dearest, highest aspirations, +daily seeing and speaking to her. + +"Very soon the little maid of eight years became very fond of him. + +"George rose rapidly in the respect and esteem of his instructor, and +in a few months a deep and sincere attachment existed between them. +Subsequently our young friend entered the Bar, and was looked upon as +a man of fine promise; his career upward was steady, and finally, +after eight or ten years' practice, he was among the best of his day. + +"All these years of toil and study were for laurels to lay at the feet +of the one who had so unconsciously saved him and encouraged him +'onward.' Nothing now prevented the fruition of all his hopes. A +little while longer, and the living, breathing, speaking guardian +angel was all his own--blessing his heart and house, filling his very +soul with the purest love, the most profound gratitude to God, by +whose infinite mercy he was thus almost miraculously saved. And to +prove his gratitude and thankfulness, he has endeavored constantly to +win the erring from sin, to encourage and sustain the penitent, to try +and soften the hardened heart, and finally, as much as possible, to +ameliorate the suffering and punishment of the guilty and condemned, +truly knowing how very many are tempted as much and more than the hero +of my story, without the interposition of such a special Providence." + +The judge had finished. Mrs. Morely arose, and, passing her arm around +her husband, pressed her lips to his, earnestly and with deep emotion, +saying: + +"I long since recognized the noble, suffering boy of your story. My +husband, forgive my having ever questioned your actions or motives. In +the future I will try to prove my worthiness of your love by aiding +you in all your works of mercy." + +"My old friend, and of all the most respected and honored, if it were +possible your story would increase my veneration," said Mr. Archer, +grasping and pressing the judge's hand. + +"I would to Heaven there were more like you. If so, the temptations +and snares which surround the path of youth would be less terrible and +frequent--in a word, our whole community a little nearer, as God would +have us be." + + * * * * * + + + +MEMORABLE THANKSGIVING DAYS. + +BY FRANCES HENSHAW BADEN. + + Shadow and shine is life, little Annie, flower and thorn.--TENNYSON. + + +"Draw near me, William; I have so much I want to say, and now I feel +too truly how rapidly I am drifting away. When I close my eyes I see +so many happy, familiar faces, just a little way above, in the clouds. +They are beckoning me away. Tell me, what day is this?" + +"Thanksgiving, dear. But, pray, do not talk so. You are not going to +leave me yet, Mary. You will be, you are better," said her husband, +bending sorrowfully over her. + +"Yes, I will be well, soon. I shall not see to-morrow's sun. Promise +me, my husband, to try and make our boy feel as little as possible his +loss. Be to him what I have been. He is a strange, shy child, and +reminds me much of my own childhood. You scarcely know him, you have +been so completely absorbed in your business all the time. Be with +him, have him more with you. There is no need now of your being such a +slave to business. You are prospering, you will be rich. Oh! do not +let your heart become so encased in gold as to render it inaccessible +to all higher, better feelings. In years to come another will occupy +my place, but, oh! William, do not let those new ties come between you +and your first-born. Give me your hand, and with it the pledge to make +his welfare your first thought. + +"Thank you, dear! you have lifted a great weight from my heart. The +only doubt is cleared away. Here put our wedding ring on your finger! +How tight it fits. It will be a constant reminder of your pledge. Now +bring Willie to me." + +She gradually faded away during the afternoon, murmuring constantly +words of love and hope, the last intelligible being, "Love each other +for my sake." + +As the Thanksgiving sun went down the spirit of the gentle, +long-suffering Mary Archer joined the waiting ones above. + +William Archer truly loved his young wife, and sincerely mourned her +loss. Much of his time was spent with his son in trying to comfort and +divert the attention of the sorrowing boy from his great loss. + +Willie grew to love very dearly his father, hitherto almost a stranger +to him. + +Mary's words were soon verified. Riches grew rapidly around him, and +in less than two years he had filled her vacant place by another. + +With what an acute ear, jealous eye and aching heart he listened for +every word of endearment, watched every action of love that his father +bestowed on his new wife. Willie was not a boy to win the heart of a +stranger. Retiring, silent and sad, but possessing a brave, grateful +heart, he had to be known to be loved. The new mother did not care to +take the trouble to win the love of her husband's child. + +Years rolled on. Bright, cheerful, happy boys and beautiful, loving +girls grew round the father's heart, claiming and winning his love, +until poor Willie was almost forgotten, or only remembered when in +sight, and then always compared so unfavorably with the merry ones +around him. + +On one occasion some temporary ailment caused the father's hand to +become very much swollen, until the little wedding ring became very +tight and pained his finger much. His wife suggested its being filed +off. While debating on the necessity of so doing, there came memories +of the past. The long-forgotten pledge, the reminder of which was +making him feel it so keenly then. How had he fulfilled that promise? + +He would not have the ring removed. The swelling gradually passed +away. And William Archer determined to make amends for his past +neglect by future care and attention to his motherless boy. + +But these good intentions were put to a speedy flight by an +unfortunate accident which occurred that afternoon. + +Constant difficulties and childish quarrels arose between the little +ones, Willie always being the erring one, both with the mother and +nurses. If a child fell and was hurt, "Willie did it." In a word, the +poor boy was the "scapegoat." + +The children were playing in the large ground surrounding their +future elegant home. Willie was just twelve years old then. The nurse +was attending the younger ones. A little way from the house was a +large pond with a rustic bridge. Mr. Archer had frequently warned the +nurse of the danger in allowing the children to play about there. +Little Eddie, a merry, willful boy of six years, disregarding all +Willie's entreaties to come away, would amuse himself by "riding +horseback," as he called it, on the railing of the frail bridge, and +tossing up his arms with a shout of defiance and laughter, he lost his +balance and fell into the water, quite deep enough to drown a much +larger boy. + +A scream from the little ones brought the nurse to a knowledge of the +truth. + +"Eddie's in the water! Eddie's drowned." + +In a moment Willie's jacket was off, and he plunged in, and, before +the terrified nurse could collect her thoughts, brought out and placed +the insensible boy on the grass before her. + +Catching up the child, she rushed to the house, and, placing him in +his mother's arms, declared, to screen her own negligence, that: + +"Willie had pushed his brother in the pond." + +Willie, following on with the other children, entered the house, his +young heart proudly glowing with the knowledge of having done a good, +brave action, and saying to himself: + +"Now, this will surely please papa and make Eddie's mother love me a +little." + +Poor boy! He was met by stern eyes and harsh, upbraiding words, which +for a moment quite bewildered him. + +"You have killed your brother! You cruel, unnatural child," cried the +mother. + +"Out of my sight, boy," said his father, in low, threatening tones. + +"Oh, father! what do you mean? Let me tell you how it was." + +"Begone, sir!" and the enraged man gave poor Willie a blow which sent +him reeling into the hall. + +Staggering up to his room and throwing himself on the bed, he wailed +forth, in heart-rending tones: + +"Oh, mother, mother! I wish I was with you! Others can die, why not I? +No one loves me! Oh, I wish I were dead!" + +Tired and exhausted by the exertions in the water, he soon fell +asleep, and remained so until the sun was just rising next morning. + +All his sorrow, all the injustice of the night before came rushing +back to his mind. + +Hastily dressing himself, and then taking from his desk paper and pen, +he wrote: + + You have told me to get out of your sight, father. I shall. You + will never see me again. You need not search for me. I am going + to try and find my mother. When Eddie is better, you will hear + the truth, and feel your injustice to WILLIE. + +Folding this, and leaving it on his table, he stole down and made his +way into town, not quite determined what to do. His first thought was +to seek the river, and in its quiet waters end his sorrows. Oh! why +would not death come to him? + +How quiet the city was! Usually so many were stirring about at that +hour. No market wagons or bread carts about. Oh, now he remembered, it +was Thanksgiving Day. + +On he walked, and then came in sight of the church where his mother +used to go, and then memories of all her holy teachings. Should he +find her if he attempted self-destruction? + +What could he do? He could not live on! Surely God would forgive him! + +Then he thought he would go once more into that church, and +then--Heaven only knows what next. Waiting in the park until church +time, he retraced his steps and reached the door just as the beautiful +hymn, "Come, ye disconsolate," rose into the air. + +Going in while the words + + "Here bring your wounded hearts" + +filled his ear, he crept up into the gallery and seated himself near +the choir. + +He grew somewhat calm, and his mind was, for the time, diverted from +his sorrows by the sight of a little girl seated beside one of the +singers--her mother, he thought. + +The happy, beaming face of the little one interested him very much. + +The services over, he followed close behind her, endeavoring to get +another look at her, wondering if she was ever sad! And, standing at +the church door as she was about to enter a carriage waiting, in which +a lady and gentleman were already seated, he thought: + +"Oh, what kind, loving parents she must have to make her look so +joyous!" His face wore a very sad expression. The little girl turned, +caught the sorrowful look bent on her, then stepped suddenly back, +went up to our Willie, and said, with the winning grace and perfect +simplicity of a child of six: + +"Here, little boy, you look so sad, I am very sorry for you. Take my +flowers." + +What angel-spirit, prompted by the will of its Divine Master, was it +that whispered to the little child to go comfort the sorrowing boy, +and with her kind sympathy and sweet offering to draw him back from +the dreadful precipice on which he stood, and lift him from darkness +and despair? His mother's, perchance. A bright light shone in the +boy's eye. His face was losing its despairing expression. The flowers +were speaking to his heart, whispering of Trust, Faith, Hope! Yes, he +must live on, brave all sorrows, trample down difficulties, and with +God's blessing try to live to be a good and useful man. + +"Why, Minnie! what do you mean? Why did you give those beautiful +flowers to that strange boy? I never saw such a child as you are!" + +"Mamma, I gave them to him because he looked so sad, just as if he +had not a happy home, or loving papa and mamma like I have. I felt so +sorry for him, and I wanted to tell him so. I'm sure he hasn't got any +mother, or he would not look so." + +"Never mind, Laura, my dear. Do not worry about Minnie. She is all +right. Let her act from the dictates of her kind, innocent heart," +returned the little one's father. + +"Oh, yes! let her alone, and in years to come she will from the +dictates of her kind heart, be giving herself away to some motherless, +fameless and moneyless young man, I fear!" said the worldly and +far-seeing mother. + +"But not senseless man, I'll warrant you," was the laughing reply. + + * * * * * + +"Why, William, my dear boy, why can you not be satisfied to remain +here with me? Why do you wish to go away? 'Idle life!' 'Making a +living and do some good!' Humph, sir! you need not be idle. Read to +me; ride with me. As for your living, sir, I made that for you before +you were born; and now I intend you shall enjoy it. Now, my boy, my +son in all my heart's dearest affections, stay with me. Wait until the +old man is gone; then you will have time enough to be useful to +others." + +"Mr. Lincoln--uncle, father!--yes, more than father--your wish must be +mine. Did you not, fifteen years ago, take in a poor, wretched, +friendless, homeless boy--bless him with your care and protection, +educate, fulfill all his brightest hopes by giving him a profession, +which will not only make him independent, but enable him to help and +comfort others. Let me prove my gratitude in any way." + +"Come, come, do not talk of gratitude. Oh, my boy, if you only knew +what deep joy it has afforded me, having you here. I will tell you +now, William, why it was I so readily opened my heart and home to the +little wanderer I found that Thanksgiving afternoon so long ago. When +I first looked into your eyes there was a strange, familiar expression +about them that aroused my interest. Upon questioning you I found that +the son of the only woman I had ever loved was before me! My heart +yearned to help you; otherwise I should have relieved you from present +want, and then informed your father of your whereabouts. Yes, my boy, +the love I bore your mother was never transferred to another woman. +Your father and myself were her suitors at the same time. He proved +the fortunate one. Having you with me all these years has been a great +solace; and now say no more about gratitude. Just love me, and stay +with me." + +And Uncle Lincoln added, humorously: + +"Perhaps I may be doing some good by preventing some harm. I'll keep +you from practicing and experimenting on some poor creature. Oh, you +young doctors are always very anxious to make a beginning. 'Pon my +word, I have quite forgotten to open my little Minnie's letter. Coming +here to see her uncle, and will be with us to-morrow. I'm glad, very +glad. Well, it is rather strange that the two I love best in the world +should not know each other. It has happened that you have been off at +college or attending lectures each time she has been here. Guard well +your heart, boy. Every one loves her, and she no one better than her +parents and old uncle. Much to her mother's regret, she has refused +the finest offers in town. She does not care a mote for the title of +'old maid' with which her mother often threatens her. She is +twenty-one, and has never been in love, she says." + +"I think I am quite safe, sir. I am not at all susceptible, and it is +not likely that a young lady of her position in society and of such +beauty will cast a thought on me." + +The next day the old gentleman had the pleasure of introducing those +he loved so well; and, to his infinite delight, saw his darling Minnie +had certainly made a desired impression on his young _protégé_. + +"Here he is, Minnie! the boy who stole half my heart away from you. I +do not know how you will settle it with him, unless you take his in +pay." + +Often during the evening Uncle Lincoln noticed Will's gaze lingering +on his niece, and there was a softer light than usual in his fine +eyes; but, to his great regret, his boy did not appear to his usual +advantage. He was very silent, and his mind seemed absent--far away. + +And so it truly was. In the lovely girl before him William Archer +beheld the joyous child who, on that dark day, spoke so kindly and +saved him from--he dreaded to think what! + +Uncle Lincoln rubbed his hands and chuckled merrily to himself. +Everything was working to his entire satisfaction. These two +impenetrable hearts were growing wonderfully congenial, he thought. + +A few days before Minnie's visit was concluded, William brought out +and placed in her hands a bunch of withered flowers; told his story of +how, long years ago, her sweet sympathy had cheered his desolate heart +and made him feel that there was still love in the world, then so dark +to him; that her kind action had awakened in his almost paralyzed mind +better thoughts, and let him know the only way to gain peace and +happiness, and, finally, meet his mother, was in living on--putting +his trust and faith in God's goodness and mercy! + +And then he told his love and gained hers; and, with her dear hand +clasped in his, stood waiting Uncle Lincoln's blessing! + +"Minnie might do very much better," said the aspiring mamma; "but it +was Uncle Lincoln's wish." + +So the next Thanksgiving was to be the wedding day. + + * * * * * + +In a luxuriously-furnished apartment, surrounded by everything that +contributes to make life pleasant, sat an old man. + +Every now and then he would raise his bowed head from the clasped +hands, gaze anxiously around the room, and then, with a deep sigh, +relapse again into his attitude of grief and despair. At last he +speaks: + +"Thanksgiving night again, and, for the first time in fifteen years, +she has failed to hover round me, and I have not heard the sighing +voice inquire: 'Where is my boy? How did you keep your promised word?' +Oh! perhaps the mother has found her child. He may be with her now. +Oh! I would give everything--my poor, miserable life--to recall that +terrible day's injustice. My brave, noble boy! and how were you +repaid? Oh! I have suffered terribly for all my neglect and wrong of +my motherless boy! All gone from me, all the healthy, beautiful +children; all taken away! We were not worthy of those precious gifts. +God took them to himself. Now, what comfort do all these riches bring +me? Nothing! nothing! and my poor, childless wife! How bitterly she +has repented her wrong! + +"Oh, Willie! Willie, my boy! Where are you now?" + +"Here, father, here! kneeling, and waiting for your love and +blessing." + +"Am I dreaming? Oh! cruel dreams! I shall awaken, as often before, and +find how false you are!" + +"No, it's no dream, father! Give me your hand. Now, you feel your +erring boy is back beside you, praying your forgiveness for all these +years of silence--causing you so much sorrow!" + +The old man was clasped to his son's bosom. Long he held him thus, +while a sob of joy burst from the father's thankful heart. + +"Father, speak to my wife; you have another child now. She it was who +brought me back to you this blessed day. This, the anniversary of my +mother's death! also of the day of my greatest peril, is now the +happiest of my life--my wedding day, and restoration to my father's +heart! + +"Where is my stepmother? I would see and try to comfort her. Oh! let +this day be one of perfect reconciliation. Let us make it a +thanksgiving from the inmost heart." + +And now may we all, who have aught of ill dwelling in our hearts, go +and be of kindly feeling one toward the other again. Let not the +coming Thanksgiving's sun go down on our wrath. Let it not be merely a +thanksgiving in words--a day of feasting--but a heart's feasting on +peace and good will. + +THE END. + + * * * * * + + + + +THE IRISH REFUGEE. + + The only son of his mother, and she was a widow.--Luke vii. 12. + + Long years shall see thee roaming + A sad and weary way, + Like traveler tired at gloaming + Of a sultry summer day. + But soon a home will greet thee, + Though low its portals be, + And ready kinsmen meet thee, + And peace that will not flee.--PERCIVAL. + + +It was a lovely morning, that last Saturday in July, 1849. The sun had +not yet risen when our family party, consisting of Aunt and Uncle +Clive, Cousin Christine and myself, took seats at an early +breakfast-table. A capacious carriage, well packed with presents for +country cousins, stood at the door, ready to convey us to Virginia, to +spend the month of August. We, a merry set of grown-up children, were +too delighted with our prospective pleasure to eat anything, and so we +soon left the table and put on our bonnets and hats, preparatory to a +start. We entered the carriage. + +"Now, then, are we all ready?" asked Uncle Clive. + +"Yes," replied aunt. + +"Has nothing been forgotten?" + +"No--but stay! Where is Cousin Peggy's cap, Chrissy?" + +"There--pinned up in that paper to the roof of the carriage. Don't hit +your head against it, uncle." + +"Clive, where did you put the basket of bread and butter and cold +chicken?" + +"There--in the bottom of the carriage. Be careful, now, my dear, or +you will get your feet into it." + +"No, I shan't. But hadn't you better put the bandbox with Martha's +bonnet inside here?" + +"Indeed, mother," interposed Miss Chrissy, "there is no room for it; +for Cousin Peggy's bundle is on one side and the keg of crackers on +the other; my feet are resting on the caddy of tea, and the loaf of +sugar and paper of coffee are in my lap!" + +"There! let's get along," said Uncle Clive, impatiently. "I declare, +the sun is already half an hour high, and a ride of forty-five or +fifty miles before us. We shall not reach Willow Glade before ten +o'clock to-night." + +"Yes, and about nine o'clock we shall be going down Bloody Run Hill, +and I never can go through the piece of woods between that and Gibbet +Hill after dark without horror." + +"Ever since the peddler was murdered." + +"Yes, ever since the peddler was murdered, and before, too." + +Uncle Clive now jumped into his seat, and, taking the reins, we set +off at a pretty brisk rate. + +"Clive, don't that horse look a little vicious? See how he pricks up +his ears!" + +"Pooh! Nonsense! He's as safe a horse as ever drew." + +"What o'clock is it, now?" + +"Humph! half-past five. I think the next time we wish to get off at +sunrise, we had better arrange to start at midnight; then, perhaps, we +may succeed." + +Turning the corner of the street at this moment the sudden sight of +the river, and the wood on the opposite bank, glimmering and +glistening in the light of the morning sun, elicited a simultaneous +burst of admiration from our travelers. Then the prospective pleasures +of the rural visit were discussed, the family and friendly reunions, +the dinner parties, the fish feasts upon the river's banks, the oyster +excursions and crab expeditions; and in such pleasant anticipations +the cheerful hours of that delightful forenoon slipped away; and when, +at last, the heat of the sun grew oppressive, and our sharpened +appetites reminded us of the dinner-basket, we began to cast around +for a cool, dry and shady spot on which to rest and refresh ourselves. +The road here was wide and passed through a thick forest. A few more +turns of the wheels brought us to a narrow footpath, diverging from +the main road into the forest on the left-hand side. + +"Let's get out here, Clive, and follow this path; I know it. It leads +to a fine spring, with an acre or two of cleared land about it, on +which there was once a dwelling." + +This was agreed upon, and we all alighted and took the path through +the wood. We had not gone many yards ere a scene of woodland beauty +opened to our view. It presented an area of about four acres of open +land in the midst of the forest. From the opposite side a little +rivulet took its rise, and ran tinkling and splashing, in its pebbly +bed, through the centre of this open glade, until its music was lost +in the distance in the forest. But the most interesting object in +sight was a ruined cottage. It was very small. It could not have +contained more than two rooms. In front there had once been a door, +with a window on each side; but now both door and windows were gone. + +The solitary chimney had fallen down, and the stones of which it had +been built lay scattered around. A peach tree grew at the side of the +cottage, and its branches, heavy with the luscious fruit, drooped upon +the low roof. A grapevine grew in front, and its graceful tendrils +twined in and out through the sashless windows and the broken door. A +bird of prey was perched upon the house, and, as we approached, with a +fearful scream it took its flight. + +"Be careful, Christine, where you step; your foot is on a grave!" + +With a start and a sudden pallor, Christine looked down upon the +fragment of a gravestone. Stooping and putting aside the long grass +and weeds, she read: "The only child of his mother, and she a widow." + +"Whose grave could this have been, mother? The upper part of the +stone, which should bear the name, is gone. Oh, how sad this ruined +cot, and this lonely grave! I suppose, mother, here, in the heart of +the forest, in this small cottage, lived the widow and her only child. +The child died, as we may see, and she--oh! was the boon of death +granted to her at the same moment? But, who were they, mother? As your +early life was passed in this part of the country, you surely can tell +us." + +Aunt Clive, who had been gazing sadly and silently on the scene since +giving the warning to Christine, said: + +"Yes, I can tell you the story. But here comes your father, looking +very tired and hungry; and, as it is a very sad tale, we will defer it +until we have dined." + +We spread our repast upon the grass, and, seating ourselves upon the +fragments of the broken chimney, soon became engrossed in the +discussion of cold chicken, ham and bread. As soon as we had +dispatched them and repacked our basket, and while we were waiting for +the horses to feed and rest, Aunt Clive told us the following tale of +real life: + + +THE IRISH EMIGRANTS. + +A short time previous to the breaking out of the Rebellion in Ireland +a family of distinction came from that country to America and +purchased and settled upon a handsome estate near the then flourishing +village of Richmond. Their family name was Delany. With them came a +Dr. Dulan, a clergyman of the established church. Through the +influence of the Delanys, Dr. Dulan was preferred to the rectorship +of the newly established parish of All Saints, and subsequently to the +president's chair of the new collegiate school of Newton Hall. This +prosperity enabled him to send for his son and daughter, and settle +with them in a comfortable home near the scene of his labors. + +It was about the fifth year of his residence in Virginia that the +rebellion in Ireland broke out, and foremost among the patriots was +young Robert Dulan, a brother of the doctor. All know how that +desperate and fatal effort terminated. Soon after the martyrdom of the +noble Emmet, young Dulan was arrested, tried, condemned, and followed +his admired leader to the scaffold, leaving his heart-broken young +wife and infant boy in extreme penury and destitution. As soon as she +recovered from the first stunning shock of her bereavement, she wrote +to her brother-in-law, soliciting protection for herself and child. To +this the doctor, who, to great austerity of manners, united an +excellent heart, replied by inviting his brother's widow to come to +Virginia, and inclosing the amount of money required to supply the +means. As soon as the old gentleman had done that he began to prepare +for her reception. Knowing that two families seldom get on well +beneath the same roof, and with a delicate consideration for the +peculiar nature of her trials, he wished to give her a home of her +own. Selecting this spot for the beauty and seclusion of its position, +as well as for its proximity to his own residence, he built this +cottage, inclosed it by a neat paling, and planted fruit trees. It was +a very cheerful, pretty place, this neat, new cottage, painted white, +with green window shutters; the white curtains; the honeysuckle and +white jessamine, trained to grow over and shade the windows; the white +paling, tipped with green; the clean gravel walk that led up to the +door, the borders of which were skirted with white and with red roses; +the clusters of tulips, lilies and hyacinths--all contributed to make +the wilderness "blossom as the rose;" and every day the kind-hearted +man sought to add some new attraction to the scene. + +One evening the doctor had been over to the cottage, superintending +the arrangement of some furniture. On his return home, a servant +brought a packet of letters and papers. Glancing over one of them, he +said: + +"Elizabeth, my daughter." + +A prim young lady, in a high-necked dress, and a close-fitting black +net cap, looked up from her work and answered in a low, formal voice: + +"My father." + +"Your aunt and cousin have at length arrived at the port of Baltimore. +They came over in the _Walter Raleigh_. I wish you to be in readiness +to accompany me to-morrow when I go to bring them down." + +"My father, yes," were the only words that escaped the formal and +frozen girl. + +A week after this conversation the still life of the beautiful +cottage was enlivened. A lovely boy played before the door, while a +pale mother watched him from within. That pale mother was not yet +thirty years of age, yet her cheeks were sunken, her eyes dim, and her +hair streaked with silver. Truly, the face was breaking fast, but the +heart was breaking faster. But the boy! Oh, he was a noble child! Tall +for his age (he was but five years old), his dark hair, parted over a +high, broad forehead, fell in sable curls upon his shoulders; his +large black eyes, now keen and piercing as the young eagle's, now soft +and melting as the dove's. His dark eyes wore their softest shade as +he stole to his mother's side, and, twining his little arms around her +neck, drew her face down to his, saying, with a kiss: "Willie is so +sorry?" + +"For what should Willie be sorry?" said the mother, tenderly caressing +him. + +"Because mamma is sad. Does she want Willie to do anything?" + +"No, sweet boy, she wants nothing done that Willie can do." + +"If mamma's head aches, Willie will hold it." + +"Her head does not ache." + +"If mamma wants Willie to stop teasing her and go to bed, he will go." + +"You are not teasing me, dear Willie, and it is rather too early for +you to go to bed." + +The widow strove to chase the gloom from her brow, that she might not +darken by its shadow the bright sunshine of her child's early life, +and with an effort at cheerfulness she exclaimed: "Now go, Willie, and +get the pretty book Cousin Elizabeth gave you, and see if you can read +the stories in it." + +Willie ran off to obey with cheerful alacrity. + +The doctor was not able to do more for his sister-in-law than to give +her the cottage and supply her with the necessaries of life; and to do +this, he cheerfully curtailed the expenses of his own household. It +was delightful to see the affectionate gratitude of the widow and +child toward their benefactor. And that angel child, I wish I could do +justice to his filial devotion. He seemed, at that early age, to feel +as though he only lived to love and bless his mother. To be constantly +at her side, to wait upon her, even to study her wants and anticipate +her wishes, seemed to be the greatest joy of the little creature. + +"Willie, why don't you eat your cake?" asked his uncle one day, when +Willie had been sent over to the doctor's on an errand, and had been +treated to a large slice of plumcake by his Cousin Elizabeth. + +Willie silently began to nibble his cake, but with evident reluctance. + +"Why, you do not seem to like it! Is it not good?" + +"Yes, sir, thank you." + +"Why don't you eat it, then?" + +"My father," said Elizabeth. + +"Well, Miss Dulan?" + +"I think that Willie always carries every piece of cake he gets to his +mother." + +"But why not always prevent that by sending her a piece yourself?" + +"Because, my dear father, I think it may be wrong to restrain the +amiable spirit of self-denial evinced by the child." + +"Then you are mistaken, Miss Dulan; and recollect that it is very +irreverent in a young lady to express an opinion at variance with the +spirit of what her father has just said." + +Elizabeth meekly and in silence went to the pantry and cut a piece of +cake, which she carefully wrapped up and gave to Willie for his +mother. Willie received it with an humble and deprecatory look, as if +he felt the whole responsibility and weight of the reproof that had +fallen upon his cousin. + +One Christmas eve, when Willie was above seven years old, the widow +and her son were sitting by the cottage hearth. The closed shutters, +drawn curtains, clean hearth and bright fire threw an air of great +comfort over the room. Mrs. Dulan sat at her little work-table, +setting the finishing stitches in a fine linen shirt, the last of a +dozen that she had been making for the doctor. + +The snowstorm that had been raging all day long had subsided, though +occasionally the light and drifted snow would be blown up from the +ground by a gust of wind against the windows of the house. "Poor boy," +said the widow, looking at her son, "you look tired and sleepy; go to +bed, Willie." + +"Oh! dear mamma, I am not tired, and I could not sleep at all while +you are up alone and at work. Please let me stay up--but I will go to +bed if you say so," added he, submissively. + +"Come and kiss me, darling. Yes, Willie, you may stay up as long as +you like. I will go to bed myself," added she, mentally, "so as not to +keep the poor boy up." + +"Well, Willie, I will tell you a story, darling, which will amuse you, +while I sew." + +Just at this moment the sound of carriage wheels, followed immediately +by a jump from the box, and a smart rap at the door, caused the widow +to start hastily from her seat. The door was opened, and Jake, the big +black coachman of the old doctor, made his appearance, a heavy cloak +and a large muffling hood hanging over his arm. + +"Marm," said he, "it has clarred off beautiful, and massa has sent the +carriage arter you, and he says how he would have sent it afore, but +how the roads was blocked up with snowdrifts. Me and Pontius Pilate, +and Massa John, has been all the arternoon a clarring it away, and I +thinks, marm, if you don't come to-night, how the road will be as bad +as ever to-morrow morning, with this wind a-blowing about the snow. +Miss Lizzy has sent this hood of hern, and massa has sent this big +cloth cloak of hizzen, so that you needn't ketch cold." + +Mrs. Dulan did not immediately reply, but looked at Willie, and seemed +to reflect. + +Jake added: + +"I hopes you'll come, marm, for massa and Miss Lizzy and Massa John +has quite set their heads on having you with them to spend Christmas, +and Massa John told me to tell you how he had bagged a fine passel of +waterfowl and wild turkeys, and I myself has made a trap for Massa +Willie to catch snowbirds." + +"Yes, we will go," said Mrs. Dulan. "Do me the favor, Jacob, to pour a +pitcher of water on that fire, while I tie on Willie's cloak and +mittens." + +In twenty minutes more, Willie was seated on his uncle's knees, by his +bright fireside, and his mother sat conversing with John and +Elizabeth, and a few neighbors whom the inclemency of the weather had +not deterred from dropping in to spend Christmas eve. The old +housekeeper stood at the buffet, cutting up seedcake, and pouring out +elder wine, which was soon passed round to the company. + +That Christmas was a gorgeous morning. The sun arose and lit up into +flashing splendor the icy glories of the landscape. From every roof +and eave, from every bough and bush, dropped millions of blazing +jewels. Earth wore a gorgeous bridal dress, bedecked with diamonds. +Within the doctor's house everything was comfortable as you could +wish. A rousing fire of hickory wood roared upon the hearth, an +abundant breakfast of coffee, tea, buckwheat cakes, muffins, eggs, +wild fowls, oysters, etc., etc., smoked upon the board. The family +were all gathered in the breakfast-room. The doctor was serving out +eggnog from a capacious bowl upon the sideboard. + +"Cousin Elizabeth," said little Willie, taking her hand and leading +her away to the sofa, "what do ladies love?" + +"What do ladies love? Why, Willie, what a queer question." + +"Yes, but tell me what do ladies love?" + +"Why, their papas, of course, and their brothers, and their relations; +it would not be decorous to love any one else," said the prim maiden. + +"Oh, you don't know what I mean; I mean what do ladies love to have? +You know boys like to have kites and marbles, and traps to catch +snowbirds, and picture books, and half-pence and such things. Now what +do ladies love to have?" + +"Oh, now I understand you. Why, we like to have a good assortment of +crewels and floss to work tapestry with, and a quantity of +bright-colored silk to embroider with, and----" + +"Oh, that's what you like, Cousin Elizabeth; but mamma doesn't work +samplers," said the boy, with a dash of pettish contempt in his tone. +"Uncle has given me a bright new shilling for a Christmas gift, to do +what I please with, and I want to get something with it for poor, dear +mamma." + +"La! child, you can get nothing of any account with a shilling." + +"Can't I?" said he, and his little face fell for an instant, but soon +lighting up, he exclaimed: "Oh, ho! Cousin Elizabeth, I am brighter +than you are, this time. A silver thimble is a very little thing, and +can be bought with a shilling, I am sure; so I will buy one for mamma. +Poor mamma has an old brass one now, which cankers her finger." + +"Here, Willie," said Elizabeth, "I have not paid you my Christmas +gift, and you caught me, you know; take this shilling, and now run and +ask your uncle to take you to the village with him when he goes, and +then you can buy your thimble. You have enough to get one now." + +Willie thanked his cousin with a hearty embrace, and ran off to do as +she advised him. The family now sat down to breakfast, after which +they all went to church, where the doctor performed divine service. A +large party of friends and neighbors returned with them to dinner, and +the remainder of the day was spent in hilarity and innocent enjoyment. + +The next day the thimble was purchased, as agreed upon, and little +Willie kept it a profound secret from his mother, until the first +evening on which they found themselves at home, in their little +parlor, when the candle was lit, and the little stand drawn to the +fire, the workbox opened, and the old brass thimble put on. Then +little Willie, glowing with blissful excitement, put his hand in his +pocket to find his present. It was not there. He searched the other +pocket, then his cap, then shook his cloak and looked about the +carpet. Alarmed now, he opened the door and was going out, when his +mother called to him. + +"What is the matter, Willie? Where are you going? What have you +lost?" + +"Nothing much, mother; I am only going out a minute," and he closed +the door, and began an almost hopeless search by the moonlight for his +lost treasure. Up and down the walk he searched without finding it. He +opened the gate, and peeping and peering about, wandered up the road, +until his little feet and limbs got wet in the soft snow, and his +hands became benumbed; when, feeling convinced that it was lost, he +sat down and burst into a passionate fit of weeping. Let no one feel +surprise or contempt at this. In this little affair of the thimble +there had been disinterested love, self-sacrifice, anticipated joy, +disappointment and despair, though all expended on a cheap thimble. +Yet, Willie was but seven years old, and "thought as a child, felt as +a child, understood as a child." I am a grown-up child now, and have +had many troubles, but the most acute sorrow I ever felt was the death +of my pet pigeon, when I was seven years old. + +It was long before the storm in his little bosom subsided, but when +at last it did, he turned to go home; he would not go before, lest he +might grieve his mother with the sight of his tears. At last, weary +and half-frozen, he opened the cottage gate and met his mother coming +to look for him, and she, who always spoke most gently to him, and for +whose dear sake she was suffering, now by a sad chance, and out of her +fright and vexation, sharply rebuked him and hurried him off to bed. +"If dear mamma had known, she would not have scolded me so, though," +was his last thought as he sank into a feverish sleep. The next +morning when Mrs. Dulan arose, the heavy breathing, and bright flush +upon the cheek of her boy, caught her attention, and roused her fears +for his health. As she gazed, a sharp expression of pain contracted +his features and he awoke. Feebly stretching out his arms to embrace +her, he said: + +"Oh, mamma, Willie is so sick, and his breast hurts so bad." + +The child had caught the pleurisy. + +It was late at night before medical assistance could be procured from +a distant village. In the meantime the child's illness had fearfully +progressed; and when at last the physician arrived, and examined him, +he could give no hopes of his recovery. Language cannot depict the +anguish of the mother as she bent over the couch of her suffering boy, +and, if a grain could have increased the burden of her grief, it would +have been felt in the memory of the few words of harsh rebuke when he +had returned half-frozen and heavy-hearted from his fruitless search +after the thimble, for the kind Elizabeth had arrived and explained +the incident of the night. + + * * * * * + +It was midnight of the ninth day. Willie had lain in a stupor for a +whole day and night previous. His mother stood by his bed; she neither +spoke nor wept, but her face wore the expression of acute suffering. +Her eyes were strained with an earnest, anxious, agonized gaze upon +the deathly countenance of the boy. Old Dr. Dulan entered the room at +this moment, and looking down at the child, and taking his thin, cold +hand in his own, felt his pulse, and turning to the wretched mother, +who had fixed her anxious gaze imploringly upon him, he said: + +"Hannah, my dear sister---- But, oh, God! I cannot deceive you," and +abruptly left the room. + +"Elizabeth," said he to his daughter, who was sitting by the parlor +fire, "go into the next room and remain with your aunt, and if +anything occurs summon me at once; and, John, saddle my horse quickly, +and ride over to Mrs. Caply and tell her to come over here." + +Mrs. Caply was the layer-out of the dead for the neighborhood. + +How tediously wore that dreary night away in the sickroom, where the +insensible child was watched by his mother and her friend! The +flickering taper, which both forgot to snuff, would fitfully flare up +and reveal the watchers, the bed, and the prostrate form of the pale, +stiff, motionless boy, with his eyes flared back with a fixed and +horrid stare. In the parlor, a party equally silent and gloomy kept +their vigil. Dr. Dulan, his son and the old woman, whose fearful +errand made her very presence a horror, formed the group. The old +woman at last, weary at holding her tongue so long, broke silence by +saying: "I always thought that child would never be raised, sir--he +was so smart and clever, and so dutiful to his ma. He was too good for +this world, sir. How long has he been sick, sir?" + +"Little more than a week; but I beg you will be silent, lest you +disturb them in the next room." + +"Yes, sir, certainly. Sick people ought to be kept quiet, though +perhaps that don't much matter when they are dying. Well, poor little +fellow; he was a pretty child, and will look lovely in his shroud and +cap, and----" + +"Hush!" exclaimed John Dulan, in a tone so stern that the woman was +constrained to be silent. + +Daylight was now peeping in at the windows. The doctor arose, put out +the candles, opened the shutters, stirred the fire, and went into the +next room. The widow was sitting in the same place, holding one of the +boy's hands between her own, her head bowed down upon it. The doctor +looked at the child; his eyes were now closed, as if in sleep. He laid +his hand upon his brow, and bending down, intently gazed upon him. The +child opened his eyes slowly. Passing quickly round the bed, the +doctor laid his hand upon the recumbent head and said: "Look up, +Hannah, your child is restored." With an ecstatic expression of +gratitude and joy, the mother started to her feet, and gazed upon her +boy. + +"Kiss me, mamma," said Willie, opening his gentle eyes, in which +beamed a quiet look of recognition and love. The mother kissed her +child repeatedly and fervently, while exclamations of profound +gratitude to Heaven escaped her. The doctor went to the window, and +threw open the shutters. The rising sun poured its light into the +room, and lit it up with splendor. + +I must transport you now, in imagination, over a few years of time +and a few miles of country, and take you into a splendid drawing-room, +in the handsome courthouse of the Delany's, which, you remember, I +described in the first part of this story, situated near the town of +Richmond. On a luxurious sofa, in this superb room, reclined a most +beautiful woman. Her golden hair divided above a high and classic +brow, fell, flashing and glittering, upon her white bosom like +sunbeams of snow. Her eyes--but who can describe those glorious eyes +of living sapphire? Sapphire! Compare her eloquent eyes to soulless +gems? Her eyes! Why, when their serious light was turned upon you, you +would feel spellbound, entranced, as by a strain of rich and solemn +music, and when their merry glance caught yours, you'd think there +could not be a grief or a sin on earth! But the greatest charm in that +fascinating countenance was the lips, small, full, red, their habitual +expression being that of heavenly serenity and goodness. + +Bending over the arm of the sofa, his head resting upon his hand, was +a young man; his eyes earnestly, anxiously, pleadingly fixed upon the +face of his companion, in whose ear, in a full, rich, and passionate +tone, he was pouring a tale of love, hopeless almost to despair. The +girl listened with a saddened countenance, and turning her large eyes, +humid with tears, upon his face, she spoke: + +"Richard, I am grieved beyond measure. Oh, cousin, I do not merit your +deep and earnest love. I am an ingrate! I do not return it." + +"Do you dislike me?" "Oh, no, no, no, indeed I do not--I esteem and +respect you; nay, more, I love you as a brother." + +"Then, dear, dearest Alice, since I am honored with your esteem, if +not blessed with your love, give me your hand--be my wife--and +ultimately perhaps----" + +"Horrible!" exclaimed the young girl, leaving the room abruptly. + +"What the d----l does that fool mean?" exclaimed Richard Delany, as +an angry flush passed over his face. "One would think I had insulted +her. Colonel Delany's penniless dependent should receive with more +humility, if not with more gratitude, an offer of marriage from his +heir. But I see how it is. She loves that beggarly Dulan--that +wretched usher. But, death--death to the poverty-stricken wretch, if +he presume to cross my path!" and the clenched fists, livid +complexion, and grinding teeth gave fearful testimony to the deadly +hatred that had sprung up in his bosom. + +At this moment Colonel Delany entered the room, and taking a seat, +said: + +"Richard, I have somewhat to say to you, and I wish you seriously to +attend. You know that I am your best, your most disinterested friend, +and that your welfare lies nearer to my heart than aught else earthly. +Well, I have observed, with much regret, the increased interest you +seem to take in your cousin--your passion for her, in fact. These +things are easily arrested in the commencement, and they must be +arrested. You can do it, and you must do it! I have other views for +you. Promise me, my son, that you will give up all thoughts of Alice." + +Richard, who had remained in deep thought during his father's address, +now looked up and replied: + +"But, my father, Alice is a very beautiful, very amiable, very +intellectual----" + +"Beggar!" + +"Father!" + +"Unbend that brow, sir! nor dare to address your parent in that +insolent tone! And now, sir, once for all, let us come to the point, +and understand each other perfectly. Should you persist in your +addresses to Alice, should you finally marry her, not a shilling, not +a penny of your father's wealth shall fall on an ungrateful son." + +Richard reflected profoundly a moment, and then replied: + +"Fear of the loss of wealth would not deter me from any step. But the +loss of my father would be an evil, I could never risk to encounter. I +will obey you, sir." + +"I am not satisfied," thought the old gentleman, as he left his son, +after a few more moments of conversation. "I am not satisfied. I will +watch them closely, and in the course of the day speak to Alice." + +An opportunity soon offered. He found himself alone with Alice, after +tea. + +"Alice," he commenced, "I wish to make a confidant of you;" and he +proceeded to unfold to her, at some length, his ambitious projects for +his son, and concluded by giving her to understand, pretty distinctly, +that he wished his son to select a wealthy bride, and that any other +one would never be received by him as his daughter. + +"I think I understand, although I cannot entirely sympathize with you, +my dear uncle," said Alice, in a low, trembling tone. "All this has +been said for my edification. That your mind may be perfectly at rest +on this subject, I must say what may be deemed presumptuous: I would +not, could not marry your son, either with or without your consent, or +under any circumstances whatever." + +"Alice! my dear Alice! How could you suppose I made any allusion to +you? Oh! Alice, Alice!" + +And the old man talked himself into a fit of remorse, sure enough. He +believed Alice, although he could not believe his son. The old +gentleman's uneasiness was not entirely dispelled; for, although Alice +might not now love Richard, yet time could make a great change in her +sentiments. + +Alice Raymond, the orphan niece of Colonel Delany, was the daughter +of an officer in the British army. Mr. Raymond was the youngest son of +an old, wealthy and haughty family in Dorsetshire, England. At a very +early age he married the youngest sister of Colonel Delany. Having +nothing but his pay, all the miseries of an improvident marriage fell +upon the young couple. The same hour that gave existence to Alice, +deprived her of her mother. The facilities to ambition offered by +America, and the hope of distracting his grief, induced Mr. Raymond to +dispose of his commission, and embark for the Western World. Another +object which, though the last named, was the first in deciding him to +cross the Atlantic. This object was to place his little Alice in the +arms of her maternal grandmother, the elder Mrs. Delany, then a widow, +and a resident under the roof of her son, Colonel Delany. A few weeks +after the sailing of the ship in which, with his infant daughter, Mr. +Raymond took passage, the smallpox broke out on board and he was one +of its earliest victims. + +With his dying breath he consigned Alice to the care of the captain of +the ship, a kind-hearted man, who undertook to convey the poor babe to +her grandmother. On the arrival of the infant at the mansion of +Colonel Delany, a new bereavement awaited her. Mrs. Delany, whose +health had been declining ever since her settlement in her new home, +was fast sinking to the grave. Colonel Delany, however, received the +orphan infant with the greatest tenderness. Sixteen years of +affectionate care had given him a father's place in the heart of +Alice, and a father's influence over her. Within the last year the +sunshine of Alice's life had been clouded. + +Richard Delany, the only son and heir of Colonel Delany, had been +sent to England at the age of fifteen to receive a college education. +After remaining eight years abroad, the last year of his absence being +spent in making the grand tour, he returned to his adopted country and +his father's house. He was soon attracted by the beauty and grace of +Alice. I say by her beauty and grace, because the moral and +intellectual worth of the young girl he had not the taste to admire, +even had he, at this early period of his acquaintance with her, an +opportunity to judge. The attentions of Richard Delany to his cousin +were not only extremely distressing to her, but highly displeasing to +his father, who had formed, as we have seen, the most ambitious +projects for his son. Richard Delany was not far wrong in his +conjecture concerning the young usher, who was no other than our old +friend William Dulan, little Willie, who had now grown to man's +estate, the circumstances of whose introduction to the Delany family I +must now proceed to explain. + +To pass briefly over the events of William Dulan's childhood and +youth. At the age of ten years he entered, as a pupil, the collegiate +school over which Dr. Dulan presided, where he remained until his +nineteenth year. It had been the wish of William Dulan and his mother +that he should take holy orders, and he was about to enter a course of +theological study under the direction of his uncle when an event +occurred which totally altered the plan of his life. This event was +the death of Dr. Dulan, his kind uncle and benefactor. All thoughts of +the church had now to be relinquished, and present employment, by +which to support his mother, to be sought. * * * It was twelve o'clock +at night, about three months after the death of Dr. Dulan. The mother +of William, by her hearth, still plied her needle, now the only means +of their support. Her son sat by her side, as of old. He had been +engaged some hours in reading to her. At length, throwing down the +book, he exclaimed: + +"Dearest, dearest mother, lay by that work. It shames my manhood, it +breaks my heart, to see you thus coining your very health and life +into pence for our support; while I! oh, mother, I feel like a human +vampire, preying upon your slender strength!" + +The widow looked into the face of her son, saw the distress, the +almost agony of his countenance, and, quickly folding up her work, +said gently: + +"I am not sewing so much from necessity, now, dear William, as because +I was not sleepy, being so much interested in your book." + +The morning succeeding this little scene, William, as was his wont, +arose early, and going into the parlor, made up the fire, hung the +kettle on, and was engaged in setting the room in order, when his +mother entered, who, observing his occupation, said: + +"Ever since your return from school, William, you have anticipated me +in this morning labor. You must now give it up, my son--I do not like +to see you perform these menial offices." + +"No service performed for my mother can be menial," said Willie, +giving her a fond smile. + +"My darling son!" + +After breakfast William took up his hat and went out. It was three +hours before he returned. His face was beaming with happiness, as he +held an open letter in his hand. + +"See, mother, dear, kind Providence has opened a way for us at last." + +"What is it, my son?" said the widow, anxiously. + +"Mr. Keene, you know, who left this neighborhood about three years +ago, went to ---- County and established a school, which has succeeded +admirably. He is in want of an assistant, and has written to me, +offering four hundred dollars a year for my services in his +institution." + +"And you will have to leave me, William!" + +These words escaped the widow, with a deep sigh, and without +reflection. She added in an instant, with assumed cheerfulness: + +"Yes, of course--so I would have you do." + +A month from this conversation William Dulan was established in his +new home, in the family of Mr. Keene, the principal of Bay Grove +Academy, near Richmond. + +The first meeting of William Dulan and Alice Raymond took place under +the following circumstances. On the arrival of Richard Delany at home, +his father, who kept up the good old customs of his English ancestors, +gave a dinner and ball in honor of his son's coming of age. All the +gentry of his own and the adjoining counties accepted invitations to +attend. Among the guests was William Dulan. He was presented to Miss +Raymond, the young hostess of the evening, by Mr. Keene. Young Dulan +was at first dazzled by the transcendent beauty of her face, and the +airy elegance of her form; then, won by the gentleness of her manners, +the elevation of her mind, and the purity of her heart. One ball in a +country neighborhood generally puts people in the humor of the thing, +and is frequently followed by many others. It was so in this instance, +and William Dulan and Alice Raymond met frequently in scenes of +gayety, where neither took an active part in the festivities. A more +intimate acquaintance produced a mutual and just estimation of each +other's character, and preference soon warmed into love. + +From the moment in which the jealous fears of Richard Delany were +aroused, he resolved to throw so much coldness and hauteur in his +manner toward that young gentleman as should banish him from the +house. This, however, did not effect the purpose for which it was +designed, and he finally determined to broach the subject to his +father. Old Colonel Delany, whose "optics" were so very "keen" to spy +out the danger of his son's forming a mésalliance, was stone blind +when such a misfortune threatened Alice, liked the young man very +much, and could see nothing out of the way in his attentions to his +niece, and finally refused to close his doors against him at his son's +instance. While this conversation was going on, the summer vacation +approached, and William made arrangements to spend them with his +mother. + +One morning William Dulan sat at his desk. His face was pale, his +spirits depressed. He loved Alice, oh! how madly. He could not forego +the pleasure of her society; yet how was all this to end? Long years +must elapse before, if ever, he could be in a situation to ask the +hand of Alice. With his head bowed upon his hand, he remained lost in +thought. + +"Mr. Dulan, may our class come up? We know our lessons," said a +youthful voice at his elbow. + +"Go to your seats, boys," said a rich, melodious, kind voice; "I wish +to have a few moments' conversation with Mr. Dulan," and Dr. Keene, +the principal, stood by his side. + +"My dear Dulan," said he, "you are depressed, but I bring you that +which will cheer your spirits. I have decided to give up my school +here into your sole charge if you will accept it. I have received, +through the influence of some of my political friends, a lucrative and +permanent appointment under the government, the nature of which I will +explain to you by and by. I think of closing my connection with this +school about the end of the next term. What say you? Will you be my +successor?" + +Dulan started to his feet, seized both the hands of his friend, +pressed them fervently, and would have thanked him, but utterance +failed. Dr. Keene insisted on his resuming his seat, and then added: + +"The income of the school amounts to twelve hundred dollars a year. +The schoolhouse, dwelling-house, with its outbuildings and numerous +improvements upon the premises, go into the bargain. Yes, Dulan, I +have known your secret long," said he, smiling good-humoredly, "and +sincerely, though silently, commiserated the difficulties of your +position; and I assure you, Dulan, that the greatest pleasure I felt +in receiving my appointment was in the opportunity it gave me of +making you and Alice happy. Stop, stop, Dulan, let me talk," laughed +Keene, as William opened a battery of gratitude upon him. "It is now +near the end of July. I should like to see you installed here on the +first of September. The August vacation will give you an opportunity +of making all your arrangements. I must now leave you to your labors." + +Every boy that asked to go out went out that day. Every boy that said +his task got praised, and every boy that missed his lesson got blamed. +The day was awfully tedious for all that, but evening came at last, +and the school was dismissed. William, after spending an unusually +long time in the "outward adorning," hastened with a joy-beaming +countenance to the home of his Alice. In the full flow of his joy he +was met by a sudden disappointment. The servant who met him at the +door informed him that Colonel Delany, Miss Raymond and Mr. Delany had +set off for Richmond, with the intention of staying a couple of weeks. +Crestfallen, William turned from the door. This was only a momentary +disappointment, however, and soon his spirits rose, and he joyfully +anticipated the time of the Delany's return. They were to be back in +time for the approaching examination and exhibition at Bay Grove +Academy; and in preparing his pupils for this event, William Dulan +found ample employment for his time and thoughts. I will not weary you +with a description of the exhibition. It passed off in that school +pretty much as it does in others. The Delanys, however, had not +returned in time to be present, nay, the very last day of William's +stay had dawned, yet they had not arrived. William had written to his +mother that he would be home on a stated day, and not even for the +delight of meeting the mistress of his heart, the period of whose +return was now uncertain, would he disappoint her. William was engaged +in packing his trunk, when Dr. Keene, again the harbinger of good +tidings, entered his room. + +"My dear Dulan," said he, "I have come to tell you that the Delanys +have arrived. You will have an opportunity of spending your last +evening with Alice." + +William shuffled his things into his trunk, pressed down the lid, +locked it, and, hastily bidding his friend good-evening, took his hat +and hurried from the house. Being arrived at Colonel Delany's, he was +shown into the drawing-room, and was delighted to find Alice its sole +occupant. The undisguised joy with which she received him left +scarcely a doubt upon his mind as to the reception of his intended +proposals. After a few mutual inquiries respecting health, friends, +and so forth, William took her white hand in his, and said, or +attempted to say--I know not what--it stuck in his throat--and he +remained merely silent, holding the hand of Alice. There is something +so extremely difficult about making a pre-meditated declaration of +love. It is much easier when it can be surprised from a man. William +knew the moments were very precious. He knew that Colonel Delany or +his son might be expected to enter at any moment, and there would be +an end of opportunity for a month or six weeks to come; yet there he +sat, holding her hand, the difficulty becoming greater every minute, +while the crimson cheek of Alice burned with a deeper blush. At length +footsteps approached. William heard them, and becoming alarmed, +hastily, hurriedly, but fervently and passionately exclaimed: + +"Alice, I love you with my whole heart, mind and strength. I love you +as we are commanded only to love God. Dearest Alice, will you become +my wife?" + +"Miss Raymond," said Richard Delany, entering at this moment, "my +father desires your presence instantly in his study on business of the +utmost moment to yourself. Mr. Dulan, I hope, will excuse me, as we +have but just arrived, and many matters crave my attention. +Good-evening, sir," and, bowing haughtily, he attended his cousin from +the room. William Dulan arose and took his hat to go. + +"Farewell, Mr. Dulan," said Alice, kindly, "if we should not meet +again before your departure." + +"Farewell, sweet Alice," murmured William Dulan as he left the house. + + * * * * * + +It was a glorious Sabbath morning early in August. The widow's +cottage gleamed in the dark bosom of the wood like a gem in the +tresses of beauty. Everything wore its brightest aspect. The windows +of the little parlor were open, and the songs of birds and the perfume +of flowers were wafted through them. But the little breakfast-table, +with its snowy cloth and its one plate, cup and saucer, looked almost +piteous from its solitude. Upon the clean white coverlet of the bed +sat the widow's little black bonnet and shawl, prayer-book, and clean +pocket handkerchief, folded with its sprig of lavender. It was +Communion Sunday, and the widow would not miss going to church on any +account. She dispatched her breakfast quickly--poor thing! she had not +much appetite. She had sat up half the night previous, awaiting the +arrival of William, but he had not come; and a man from the village +had informed her that the mail-stage had arrived on the night previous +without any passengers. As the stage would not pass again for a week, +the widow could not expect to see or hear from her son for that length +of time. After putting away her breakfast things, she donned her +bonnet and shawl, and, taking her prayer-book, opened the door to go +out. What a pleasant sight met her eyes. A neat one-horse carriage, or +rather cart, stood at the door--her son was just alighting from it. In +another instant he had clasped his mother in his arms. + +"Oh! my William! my William! I am so glad to see you," exclaimed the +delighted mother, bursting into tears. "Oh, but this is so joyful, so +unexpected, dear William! I looked for you, indeed, last night; but, +as you did not come, I gave you up, unwillingly enough, for a week. +But come in, darling; you've not breakfasted, I know." + +"No, dear mother, because I wished to breakfast with you; but let me +give something to the horse, first, and you sit in the door, dear +mother--I do not want to lose sight of you a moment, while waiting on +Rosinante." + +"Never mind, William, old Jake can do that. Here, Jake," said she, as +the old servant approached, "take charge of Master William's horse." +Then turning to William, she said: "John sends old Jake over every +morning to help me." + +"Ah! How are Cousins John and Elizabeth?" + +"Oh, very hearty. We shall see them this morning at church." + +"I did not come in the stage yesterday, mother," said William, as they +took their seats at the breakfast table, "because I had purchased this +light wagon and horse for you to ride to church in, and I came down in +it. I reached the river last night, but could not cross. The old +ferryman had gone to bed, and would not rise. Well, after breakfast, +dear mother, I shall have the pleasure of driving you to church in +your own carriage!" added William, smiling. + +"Ah! William, what a blessing you are to me, my dear son; but it must +have taken the whole of your quarter's salary to buy this for me?" And +she glanced, with pain, at his rusty and threadbare suit of black, and +at his napless hat. + +"Ah, mother, I was selfish after all, and deserve no credit, for I +laid the money out in the way which would give myself the most +pleasure. But, see, here is old Jake to tell us the carriage is ready. +Come, mother, I will hand you in, and as we go along I will unfold to +you some excellent news, which I am dying to deliver." So saying, he +placed his mother carefully in the little carriage, and seating +himself beside her drove off, leaving old Jake in charge of the house. + +"There is plenty of time, dear mother; so we will drive slowly, that +we may talk with more comfort." + +William then proceeded to relate, at large, all that had taken place +during his residence at Bay Grove--not omitting his love for Alice, of +whom he gave a glowing description; nor the bright prospects which the +kindness of Dr. Keene opened before him. Then he described the +beautiful dwelling which would become vacant on the removal of Dr. +Keene's family, which was expected to take place some time during the +coming autumn. To this dwelling, he intended to remove his mother, and +hoped to bear his bride. + +To all this the mother listened with grateful joy. At the church, +William Dulan met again his cousins, John and Elizabeth, who expressed +their delight at the meeting and insisted that William and his mother +should return with them to dinner. This, however, both mother and son +declined, as they wished to spend the day at home together. + +William Dulan spent a month with his mother, and when the moment +arrived that was to terminate his visit, he said to her: + +"Now, dear mother, cheer up! This parting is so much better than our +last parting. Now, I am going to prepare a beautiful home for you, and +when I come at Christmas, it will be for the purpose of carrying you +back with me." + +The widow gave her son a beaming look of love. + +With a "Heaven be with you, my dearest mother," and "God bless you, my +best son," they parted. They parted to meet no more on earth. + +Let us now return to the mansion of Colonel Delany, and learn the +nature of that "matter of the utmost moment to herself," that had +summoned Alice so inopportunely from the side of her lover. + + * * * * * + +On reaching the study of her uncle, Miss Raymond found him in deep +consultation with an elderly gentleman in black. Various packets of +papers were before him--an open letter was held in his hand. He arose +to meet Alice, as she advanced into the room, and taking her hand with +grave respect, said: + +"Lady Hilden, permit me to congratulate you on your accession to your +title and estates." + +"Sir! uncle!" exclaimed Alice, gazing at him with the utmost +astonishment, scarcely conscious whether she was waking or dreaming. + +"Yes, my dear, it is true. Your grandfather--old Lord +Hilden--departed this life on the sixth of last March. His only living +son survived him but a few weeks, and died without issue, and the +title and estates, with a rent-roll of eight thousand pounds per +annum, has descended, in right of your father, to yourself!" + +"I shall have so much to give to William!" involuntarily exclaimed +Alice. + +"Madam!" exclaimed Colonel Delany in surprise. + +Alice blushed violently at having thought aloud. "Dear sir," said she, +"I did not know what I was saying." + +"Ah, well, I suppose you are a little startled with this sudden news," +said the Colonel, smiling; "but now it is necessary for you to examine +with us some of these papers. Ah, I crave your pardon, Mr. +Reynard--Lady Hilden, this is Mr. Reynard, late solicitor to your +deceased grandfather, the Baron----" + +Great was the excitement in the neighborhood when it was noised abroad +that Alice Raymond had become a baroness, in her own right, and the +possessor of a large estate in England. And when, for the first time +since her accession to her new dignities, she appeared at church, in +deep mourning, every eye was turned upon her, and she almost sank +beneath the gaze of so many people. + +In the height of the "nine days' wonder," William Dulan returned, and +was greeted by the news from every quarter. + +"Oh, Alice--lost! lost! lost to me forever!" exclaimed he, in agony, +as he paced, with hurried strides, up and down the floor of his little +room. "Oh, my mother, if it were not for thee, I should pray that this +wretched heart of mine would soon be stilled in death." + +If any human being will look candidly upon the events of his own +life, and the history of his own heart, with a view to examine the +causes of suffering, he will be constrained to admit that by far the +greater portion of his miseries have originated in misapprehension, +and might have been easily prevented or cured by a little calm +investigation. It was so with William Dulan, who was at this moment +suffering the most acute agony of mind he ever felt in his life, from +a misconception, a doubt, which a ten minutes' walk to the house of +Colonel Delany, and a ten minutes' talk with Alice, would have +dissipated forever. + +If Richard Delany was anxious before to wed his cousin for love, he +was now half crazy to take that step by which both love and ambition +would be gratified to the utmost. + +He actually loved her ten times as much as formerly. The "beggar" was +beautiful, but the baroness was bewitching! Spurred on, then, he +determined to move heaven, earth and the other place, if necessary, to +accomplish his object. He beset Lady Hilden with the most earnest +prayers, and protestations, and entreaties, reminding her that he +loved and wooed her before the dawn of her prosperity, and appealed to +her for the disinterestedness of his passion. But all in vain. He even +besought his father to use his influence with Alice in his favor. +Colonel Delany, his objections being all now removed, urged his niece, +by her affection, by her compassion, and, finally, after some delicate +hesitation, by her gratitude, to accept the proffered hand of his son. +But Alice was steadfast in her rejection. + + "A change had come o'er the spirit of her dream!" + +Alas, alas! that a change of fortune should work such a change of +spirit! Alice Raymond was now Lady Hilden. Her once holy, loving, meek +blue eyes were now splendid with light and joy. Upon cheek and lip, +once so delicately blooming, now glanced and glowed a rich, bright +crimson. Her once softly falling step had become firm, elastic and +stately. "A peeress in my own right," was the thought that sent a +spasmodic joy to the heart of Alice. I am sorry she was not more +philosophical, more exalted, but I cannot help it, so it was; and if +Alice "put on airs," it must not be charged upon her biographer. + +Time sped on. A rumor of an approaching marriage between Mr. Richard +Delany and Lady Hilden was industriously circulated, and became the +general topic of conversation in the neighborhood. To avoid hearing it +talked of, William Dulan sedulously kept out of company. He had never +seen Alice since she became Lady Hilden. Dr. Keene had removed with +his family from Bay Grove, and the principal government and emolument +of the school had devolved upon young Dulan. The Christmas holidays +were at hand, and he resolved to take advantage of the opportunity +offered by them, to remove his mother to Bay Grove. On the last +evening of his stay, something in the circumstance brought back +forcibly to his mind his last conversation with Alice--that +conversation had also taken place on the eve of a journey; and the +association of ideas awakened, together with the belief that he would +never again have an opportunity of beholding her, irresistibly +impelled him to seek an interview with Alice. + +Twilight was fast fading into night. Lady Hilden stood alone, gazing +out from the window of her uncle's drawing-room. She had changed +again, since we saw her last. There was something of sorrow, or +bitterness, in the compressed or quivering lip. Her eye was bright as +ever, but it was the brightness of the icicle glancing in the winter +sun--it was soon quenched in tears, and as she gazed out upon the +gloomy mountain, naked forest, and frozen lake, she murmured: "I used +to love summer and day so much; now----" [A servant entered with +lights. "Take them away," said Alice. She was obeyed.]--"the dark soul +in the dark scene--there is almost repose in that harmony." + +"Mr. Dulan," said the servant, reappearing at the door, and Mr. +William Dulan followed the announcement. + +"You may bring in the light, now," said Alice. + +"Will Lady Hilden accept congratulations, offered at so late a +period?" said William Dulan, with a respectful bow. + +Alice, who had been startled out of her self-possession, replied only +by a bow. + +"I was about to leave this neighborhood for a short time; but could +not do so without calling to bid you farewell, fearing you might be +gone to England before I return." William Dulan's voice was beginning +to quiver. + +"I have no present intention of going to England." + +"No? Such a report is rife in the neighborhood." + +"One is not chargeable with the reports of the neighborhood." + +Alice said this in a peculiar tone, as she glanced at the +sorrow-stricken visage of the young man. + +A desultory conversation ensued, after which William Dulan arose to +take his leave, which he did in a choking, inaudible voice. As he +turned to leave the room, his ghastly face and unsteady step attested, +in language not to be misunderstood, the acuteness and intensity of +his suffering. Alice did not misunderstand it. She uttered one word, +in a low and trembling tone: + +"William!" + +He was at her side in an instant. A warm blush glowing over her bosom, +cheek and brow, her eyes were full of tears, as she raised them to his +face, eloquent with all a maiden may not speak. + +"Angel! I love! I adore thee!" exclaimed the youth, sinking at her +feet. + +"Love me, William, only love me, and let us both adore the Being who +hath given us to each other." + + * * * * * + +It was a cold night on the shores of the ice-bound Rappahannock. A +storm of wind and snow that had been fiercely raging all day long, at +length subsided. At a low cabin, which served the threefold purposes +of post-office, ferry-house and tavern, an old gray-haired man was +nodding over a smoldering fire. His slumbers were disturbed by the +blast of a stage horn and wheels of the coach, which soon stopped +before the door. + +Two travelers alighted and entered the cabin. The old ferryman arose +to receive them. + +"Any chance of crossing to-night, Uncle Ben?" inquired the younger +traveler. + +"He-he! hardly, Mr. William; the river has been closed for a week," +chuckling at the thought that he should be saved the trouble of taking +the coach across. + +"Oh, of course, I did not expect to go on the boat; I was thinking of +crossing on the ice." + +"I think that would scarcely be safe, Mr. William; the weather has +moderated a great deal since nightfall, and I rather think the ice may +be weak." + +"Pooh! nonsense! fiddle-de-dee!" exclaimed the other traveler, +testily; "do you think, old driveler, that a few hours of moderate +weather could weaken, effectually, the ice of a river that has been +hard frozen for a week? Why, at this moment a coach might be driven +across with perfect safety!" + +"I shouldn't like to try it, though, sir," said the driver, who +entered at this moment. + +"The gentleman can try it, if he likes," continued the old man, with a +grin, "but I do hopes Mr. Dulan won't." + +"Why, the ice will certainly bear a foot-passenger safely across," +smiled William Dulan. + +"I dare say it may; but, at any rate, I wouldn't try it, Master +William--'specially as it's a long, dark, slushy road between here and +the widow's." + +"Why, Uncle Ben, do you think I am a young chicken, to be killed by +wetting my feet?" asked William, laughing. "Besides, at this very +moment, my good mother is waiting for me, and has a blazing fire, a +pot of strong coffee, and a bowl of oysters, in readiness. I would not +disappoint her, or myself, for a good deal." + +"If it were not for this confounded lameness in my feet, I would not +stop at this vile hole to-night," said the elder traveler, who was no +other than Richard Delany, whom imperative business had called to this +part of the country, and who had thus become, very reluctantly, the +traveling companion of William Dulan. + +"Nobody asked you, sir," exclaimed the old man, who did not seek +popularity. + +William Dulan, who by this time had resumed his cloak, and received a +lighted lantern from the old ferryman, took his way to the river, +accompanied by the latter. Arrived at its edge, he turned, shook hands +with the old man, and stepped upon the ice. Old Ben remained, with his +eyes anxiously strained after the light of the lantern as it was borne +across the river. It was already half-way across--suddenly a breaking +sound, a fearful shriek, a quenched light, and all was dark and still +upon the surface of the ice; but beneath, a young, strong life was +battling fiercely with death. Ah! who can tell the horrors of that +frightful struggle in the dark, cold, ice-bound prison of the waters? + +The old man turned away, aghast with horror, and his eyes fell upon +the countenance of Richard Delany, which was now lit up with demoniac +joy, as he muttered between his teeth: + +"Good, good, good! Alice shall be mine now!" + + * * * * * + +It was night in the peaceful cottage of the widow. All the little +_agremens_ her son had pictured were there. A little round-table, +covered with a snowy cloth, stood in readiness. An easy-chair was +turned with its back to the fire, and on it a dressing-gown, and +before it lay a pair of soft, warm slippers. The restless, joyous, +anxious mother was reading over, for the twentieth time, her son's +last letter, in which he promised to be home, punctually, on that +evening. Hours flew on, but he did not come. At length, one o'clock +struck, and startled the widow from her meditative posture. "I must go +to bed--I must not look pale with watching, to-morrow, and alarm my +good son. It is just as it was before--he cannot get across the river +to-night. I shall see him early to-morrow." Removing the things from +about the fire, and setting the room in the nicest order, the widow +retired to bed. + +She rose early in the morning, to prepare a good breakfast for her +son. "He shall have buckwheat cakes this morning; he is so fond of +them," said she, as she busied herself in preparation. + +Everything was in readiness, yet William came not. The morning passed +on. The mother grew impatient. + +"It is certainly high time he was here now," said she; "I will go +through the woods, toward the high-road, and see if he is coming," and +putting on her bonnet and shawl, she set out. She had just entered the +wood when two advancing figures caught her attention. The path was so +narrow that they were walking one behind the other. + +"Ah! there he is--and John Dulan is with him," exclaimed the mother as +they drew near. + +The foremost man was indeed John Dulan, who held out his hand as they +met. + +"Ah! how do you do, John? How do you do? This is so kind of you! But, +stand aside--excuse me--I want to see that youth behind you!" and the +widow brushed past him, and caught to her bosom--old Ben, the +ferryman. + +"My gracious! I thought you were my son! Dear me, how absurd!" +exclaimed the widow, releasing him. + +"Let us go on to the cottage, aunt," said John Dulan, sadly. + +"Yes, do. I am looking every minute for William. Oh, you can tell me, +Uncle Ben--did he reach the ferry last night?" + +"Yes, madam," groaned the old man. + +"Why, you alarm me! Why didn't he come home, then?" + +"He did try--he did try! I begged him not to--but he would! Oh, dear! +oh, dear!" + +"Why, what in Heaven's name is the matter? What has happened? Is my +son ill?" + +"Tell her, Mr. Dulan--tell her! I could not, to save my life!" + +The widow turned very pale. + +"Where is William? Where is my son? Is he ill? Is he ill?" + +"My dearest aunt, do try to compose yourself!" said John Dulan, in a +trembling voice. + +"Where is my son? Where is he?" + +"You cannot see him to-day----" + +"Yet he was at the ferry-house last night! Great God! it cannot be!" +cried the mother, suddenly growing very pale and faint, "Oh, no! +Merciful Providence--such sorrow cannot be in store for me? He is +not----" + +She could not finish the sentence, but turned a look of agonizing +inquiry on John Dulan. He did not speak. + +"Answer! answer! answer!" almost screamed the mother. + +John Dulan turned away. + +"Is my son--is my son--dead?" + +"He is in heaven, I trust," sobbed John. + +A shriek, the most wild, shrill and unearthly that ever came from the +death-throe of a breaking heart, arose upon the air, and echoed +through the woods, and the widow sunk, fainting, to the ground. They +raised her up--the blood was flowing in torrents from her mouth. They +bore her to the house, and laid her on the bed. John Dulan watched +beside her, while the old man hastened to procure assistance. + +The life of the widow was despaired of for many weeks. She recovered +from one fit of insensibility, only to relapse into another. At +length, however, she was pronounced out of danger. But the white hair, +silvered within the last few weeks, the strained eyes, contracted brow +and shuddering form, marked the presence of a scathing sorrow. + +One day, while lying in this state, a traveling carriage drew up +before the door, and a young, fair girl, clad in deep mourning, +alighted and entered. Elizabeth, who was watching beside her, stooped +down and whispered very low: + +"The betrothed bride of your son." + +The young girl approached the bed, and, taking the hand of the +sufferer, exclaimed: "Mother, mother, you are not alone in your +sorrow! I have come to live or die by you, as my strength may serve!" + +The widow opened her arms and received her in an embrace. They wept. +The first blessed tears that had relieved the burdened heart of either +were shed together. + +Alice never left her. When the widow was sufficiently recovered, they +went to England. The best years of the life of Alice were spent in +soothing the declining days of William Dulan's mother. The face of +Alice was the last object her eyes rested on in life; and the hands of +Alice closed them in death. + +Alice never married, but spent the remainder of her life in +ministering to the suffering poor around her. + +I neglected to mention that, during the illness of Mrs. Dulan, the +body of her son was found, and interred in this spot, by the request +of his mother. + +"What becomes of the moral?" you will say. + +I have told you a true story. Had I created these beings from +imagination, I should also have judged them--punished the bad and +rewarded the good. But these people actually lived, moved, and had +their being in the real world, and have now gone to render in their +account to their Divine Creator and Judge. The case of Good _versus_ +Evil, comes on in another world, at another tribunal, and, no doubt, +will be equitably adjudged. + + * * * * * + +As I fear my readers may be dying to know what farther became of +our cheery set of travelers, I may, on some future occasion, gratify +their laudable desire after knowledge; only informing them at present +that we did reach our destination at ten o'clock that night, in +safety, although it was very dark when we passed down the dreaded +Gibbet Hill and forded the dismal Bloody Run Swamp. That Aunt Peggy's +cap was not mashed by Uncle Clive's hat, and that Miss Christine did +not put her feet into Cousin Kitty's bandbox, to the demolition of her +bonnet; but that both bonnet and cap survived to grace the heads of +their respective proprietors. The only mishap that occurred, dear +reader, befell your obsequious servitor, who went to bed with a sick +headache, caused really by her acute sympathy with the misfortunes of +the hero and heroine of our aunt's story, but which Miss Christine +grossly attributed to a hearty supper of oysters and soft crabs, eaten +at twelve o'clock at night, which, of course, you and I know, had +nothing at all to do with it. + +[Illustration] + +[Illustration] + + * * * * * + + +TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES: + +1. Obvious printer's errors have been corrected without comment. + +2. Text which was in italics in the original is surrounded by '_'. + +3. The stories in the original scans had page numbers in three blocks. + + The Rector of St. Marks pages numbered 1-131 + + Aunt Henrietta's Mistake } + False and True Love } + In the Hospital } pages numbered 171-243 + Earnest and True } + Memorable Thanksgiving Days } + + + The Irish Refugee pages numbered 166-212 + + This version reflects the order of the images from the digital + library, and has not been checked against a physical copy of any + edition. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Rector of St. Mark's, by Mary J. Holmes + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RECTOR OF ST. 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Holmes + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Rector of St. Mark's + +Author: Mary J. Holmes + +Release Date: November 2, 2006 [EBook #19702] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RECTOR OF ST. MARK'S *** + + + + +Produced by David Garcia and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Kentuckiana Digital Library) + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + +<div class="figcenter"><img src="./images/image01.png" alt="Cover" /><br /><br /> +<div class="figleft" style="width: 45%"><img src="./images/image02.png" width="75%" alt="flyleaf left" /></div> +<div class="figright" style="width: 45%"><img src="./images/image03.png" width="75%" alt="flyleaf right" /></div> +</div> + +<h1> +THE<br /> +<br /> +RECTOR OF ST. MARK'S</h1> + +<h4>BY</h4> + +<h3><span class="smcap">Mrs.</span> MARY J. HOLMES</h3> + +<h4>AUTHOR OF "DORA DEANE," "MAGGIE MILLER," "LENA RIVERS," +"THE ENGLISH ORPHAN," ETC.</h4> + +<h5>M. A. DONOHUE & CO.,<br /> +Chicago.</h5> + +<hr /> + +<table summary="toc"> +<tr><th><big>Contents<br /></big></th></tr> +<tr><td class="story"><a href="#THE_RECTOR_OF_ST_MARKS">THE RECTOR OF ST. MARK'S</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="chapt"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="chapt"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="chapt"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="chapt"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="chapt"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="chapt"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="chapt"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="chapt"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="chapt"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="chapt"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="chapt"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="chapt"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="chapt"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="story"><a href="#AUNT_HENRIETTAS_MISTAKE">AUNT HENRIETTA'S MISTAKE</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="story"><a href="#FALSE_AND_TRUE_LOVE">FALSE AND TRUE LOVE.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="story"><a href="#IN_THE_HOSPITAL">IN THE HOSPITAL.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="story"><a href="#EARNEST_AND_TRUE">EARNEST AND TRUE.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="story"><a href="#WHY_HE_WAS_MERCIFUL">WHY HE WAS MERCIFUL.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="story"><a href="#MEMORABLE_THANKSGIVING_DAYS">MEMORABLE THANKSGIVING DAYS.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="story"><a href="#THE_IRISH_REFUGEE">THE IRISH REFUGEE.</a></td></tr> +</table> + +<hr /> +<h2> +<a name="THE_RECTOR_OF_ST_MARKS" id="THE_RECTOR_OF_ST_MARKS"></a>THE RECTOR OF ST. MARK'S</h2> + + +<hr /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I.</h3> + +<h4>FRIDAY AFTERNOON.</h4> + + +<p>The Sunday sermon was finished, and the young rector of St. Mark's +turned gladly from his study-table to the pleasant south window where +the June roses were peeping in, and abandoned himself for a few +moments to the feeling of relief he always experienced when his week's +work was done. To say that no secular thoughts had intruded themselves +upon the rector's mind, as he planned and wrote that sermon, would not +be true; for, though morbidly conscientious on many points and +earnestly striving to be a faithful shepherd of the souls committed to +his care, Arthur Leighton possessed the natural desire that those who +listened to him should not only think well of what he taught but also +of the form in which the teaching was presented. When he became a +clergyman he did not cease to be a man, with all a man's capacity to +love and to be loved, and so, though he fought and prayed against it, +he had seldom brought a sermon to the people of St. Mark's in which +there was not a thought of Anna Ruthven's soft, brown eyes, and the +way they would look at him across the heads of the congregation. Anna +led the village choir, and the rector was painfully conscious that far +too much of earth was mingled with his devotional feelings during the +moments when, the singing over, he walked from his armchair to the +pulpit and heard the rustle of the crimson curtain in the organ loft +as it was drawn back, disclosing to view the five heads of which +Anna's was the center. It was very wrong, he knew, and to-day he had +prayed earnestly for pardon, when, after choosing his text, "Simon, +Simon, lovest thou me?" instead of plunging at once into his subject, +he had, without a thought of what he was doing, idly written upon a +scrap of paper lying near, "Anna, Anna, lovest thou me, more than +these?" the these, referring to the wealthy Thornton Hastings, his old +classmate in college, who was going to Saratoga this very summer, for +the purpose of meeting Anna Ruthven and deciding if she would do to +become Mrs. Thornton Hastings, and mistress of the house on Madison +Square. With a bitter groan at the enormity of his sin, and a fervent +prayer for forgiveness, the rector had torn the slips of paper in +shreds and given himself so completely to his work that his sermon was +done a full hour earlier than usual, and he was free to indulge in +reveries of Anna for as long a time as he pleased.</p> + +<p>"I wonder if Mrs. Meredith has come," he thought, as, with his feet +upon the window-sill, he sat looking across the meadow-land to where +the chimneys and gable roof of Captain Humphreys' house was visible, +for Captain Humphreys was Anna Ruthven's grandfather, and it was there +she had lived since she was three years old.</p> + +<p>As if thoughts of Mrs. Meredith reminded him of something else, the +rector took from the drawer of his writing table a letter received the +previous day, and, opening to the second page, read again as follows:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>"Are you going anywhere this summer? Of course not, for so long +as there is an unbaptized child, or a bed-ridden old woman in the +parish, you must stay at home, even if you do grow as rusty as +did Professor Cobden's coat before we boys made him a present of +a new one. I say, Arthur, there was a capital fellow spoiled when +you took to the ministry, with your splendid talents, and rare +gift for making people like and believe in you.</p> + +<p>"Now, I suppose you will reply that for this denial of self you +look for your reward in heaven, and I suppose you are right; but +as I have no reason to think I have any stock in that region, I +go in for a good time here, and this summer I take it at +Saratoga, where I expect to meet one of your lambs. I hear you +have in your flock forty in all, their ages varying from fifteen +to fifty. But this particular lamb, Miss Anna Ruthven, is, I +fancy, the fairest of them all, and as I used to make you my +father confessor in the days when I was rusticated out in +Winsted, and fell so desperately in love with the six Miss +Larkins, each old enough to be my mother, so now I confide to you +the programme as marked out by Mrs. Julia Meredith, the general +who brings the lovely Anna into the field.</p> + +<p>"We, that is, Mrs. Meredith and myself, are on the best of +terms. I lunch with her, dine with her, lounge in her parlors, +drive her to the park, take her to the operas, concerts and +plays, and compliment her good looks, which are wonderfully well +preserved for a woman of forty-five. I am twenty-six, you know, +and so no one ever associates us together in any kind of gossip. +She is the very quintessence of fashion, and I am one of the +danglers whose own light is made brighter by the reflection of +her rays. Do you see the point? Well, then, in return for my +attentions, she takes a very sisterly interest in my future wife, +and has adroitly managed to let me know of her niece, a certain +Anna Ruthven, who, inasmuch as I am tired of city belles, will +undoubtedly suit my fancy, said Anna being very fresh, very +artless, and very beautiful withal. She is also niece to Mrs. +Meredith, whose only brother married very far beneath him, when +he took to wife the daughter of a certain old-fashioned Captain +Humphreys, a pillar, no doubt, in your church. This young Ruthven +was drowned, or hung, or something, and the sister considers it +as another proof of his wife's lack of refinement and discretion +that at her death, which happened when Anna was three years old, +she left her child to the charge of her own parents, Captain +Humphreys and spouse, rather than to Mrs. Meredith's care, and +that, too, in the very face of the lady's having stood as sponsor +for the infant, an act which you will acknowledge was very +unnatural and ungrateful in Mrs. Ruthven, to say the least of it.</p> + +<p>"You see I am telling you all this, just as if you did not know +Miss Anna's antecedents even better than myself, but possibly you +do not know that, having arrived at a suitable age, she is this +summer to be introduced into society at Saratoga, while I am +expected to fall in love with her at once and make her Mrs. +Hastings before another winter. Now, in your straightforward way +of putting things, don't imagine that Mrs. Meredith has +deliberately told me all this, for she has not, but I understand +her perfectly, and know exactly what she expects me to do. +Whether I do or not depends partly upon how I like Miss Anna, +partly upon how she likes me, and partly upon yourself.</p> + +<p>"Now, Arthur, you know, I was always famous for presentiments or +fancies, as you termed them, and the latest of these is that you +like Anna Ruthven. Do you? Tell me, honor bright, and by the +memory of the many scrapes you got me out of, and the many more +you kept me from getting into, I will treat Miss Anna as gingerly +and brotherly as if she was already your wife. I like her +picture, which I have seen, and believe I shall like the girl, +but if you say that by looking at her with longing eyes I shall +be guilty of breaking some one of the ten commandments—I don't +know which—why, then, hands off at once. That's fair, and will +prove to you that, although not a parson like yourself, there is +still a spark of honor, if not of goodness, in the breast of</p> + +<p>"Yours truly,</p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">"Thornton Hastings.</span></p> + +<p>"If you were here this afternoon, I'd take you to drive after a +pair of bays which are to sweep the stakes at Saratoga this +summer, and I'd treat you to a finer cigar than often finds its +way to Hanover. Shall I send you out a box, or would your people +pull down the church about the ears of a minister wicked enough +to smoke? Again adieu.</p> + +<p class="right">"T. H."</p> +</div> + +<p>There was a half-amused smile on the face of the rector as he +finished the letter, so like its thoughtless, lighthearted writer, and +wondered what the Widow Rider, across the way, would say of a +clergyman who smoked cigars and rode after a race-horse with such a +gay scapegrace as Thornton Hastings. Then the amused look passed away, +and was succeeded by a shadow of pain as the rector remembered the +real import of Thornton's letter, and felt that he had no right to +say, "I have a claim on Anna Ruthven; you must not interfere." For he +had no claim on her, though half his parishioners, and many outside +his parish, had long ago given her to him, and said that she was +worthy; while he had loved her, as only natures like his can love, +since that week before Christmas, when their hands had met with a +strange, tremulous flutter, as together they fastened the wreaths of +evergreen upon the wall, he holding them up and she driving the +refractory tacks, which would keep falling in spite of her, so that +his hand went often from the carpet or basin to hers, and once +accidentally closed almost entirely over the little, soft, white +thing, which felt so warm to his touch.</p> + +<p>How prettily Anna had looked to him during those memorable days, so +much prettier than the other young girls of his flock, whose hair was +tumbled ere the day's work was done, and whose dresses were soiled and +disordered; while here was always so tidy and neat and the braids of +her chestnut hair were always so smooth and bright. How well, too, he +remembered that brief ten minutes, when, in the dusky twilight which +had crept so early into the church, he stood alone with her, and +talked, he did not know of what, only that he heard her voice replying +to him, and saw the changeful color on her cheek as she looked +modestly in his face. That was a week of delicious happiness, and the +rector had lived it over many times, wondering if, when the next +Christmas came, it would find him any nearer to Anna Ruthven than the +last had left him.</p> + +<p>"It must," he suddenly exclaimed. "The matter shall be settled before +she leaves Hanover with this Mrs. Meredith. My claim is superior to +Thornton's, and he shall not take her from me. I'll write what I lack +the courage to tell her, and to-morrow I will call and deliver it +myself."</p> + +<p>An hour later, and there was lying in the rector's desk a letter in +which he had told Anna Ruthven how much he loved her, and had asked +her to be his wife. Something whispered that she would not refuse him, +and with this hope to buoy him up, his two miles walk that warm +afternoon was neither long nor tiresome, and the old lady, by whose +bedside he had read and prayed, was surprised to hear him as he left +her door whistling an old love-tune which she, too, had known and sung +fifty years before.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II.</h3> + +<h4>SATURDAY AFTERNOON.</h4> + + +<p>Mrs. Julia Meredith had arrived, and the brown farmhouse was in a +state of unusual excitement; not that Captain Humphreys or his good +wife, Aunt Ruth, respected very highly the great lady who had so +seldom honored them with her presence, and who always tried so hard to +impress them with a sense of her superiority and the mighty favor she +conferred upon them by occasionally condescending to bring her +aristocratic presence into their quiet, plain household, and turn it +topsy-turvy. Still, she was Anna's aunt, and then, too, it was a +distinction which Aunt Ruth rather enjoyed, that of having a +fashionable city woman for her guest, and so she submitted with a good +grace to the breaking in upon all her customs, and uttered no word of +complaint when the breakfast table waited till eight, and sometimes +nine o'clock, and the freshest eggs were taken from the nest, and the +cream all skimmed from the pans to gratify the lady who came down very +charming and pretty in her handsome cambric wrapper, with rosebuds in +her hair. She had arrived the previous night, and while the rector was +penning his letter she was holding Anna's hand in hers, and, running +her eye rapidly over her face and form, was making an inventory of her +charms and calculating their value.</p> + +<p>A very graceful figure, neither too short nor too tall. This she gets +from the Ruthvens. Splendid eyes and magnificent hair, when Valencia +has once taken it in hand. Complexion a little too brilliant, but a +few weeks of dissipation will cure that. Fine teeth, and features +tolerably regular, except that the mouth is too wide, and the forehead +too low, which defects she takes from the Humphreys. Small feet and +rather pretty hands, except that they seem to have grown wide since I +saw her before. Can it be these horrid people have set her to milking +the cows?</p> + +<p>This was what Mrs. Meredith thought that first evening after her +arrival at the farmhouse, and she had not materially changed her mind +when the next afternoon she went with Anna down to the Glen, for which +she affected a great fondness, because she thought it was romantic and +girlish to do so, and she was far being past the period when women +cease caring for youth and its appurtenances. She had criticised +Anna's taste in dress—had said that the belt she selected did not +harmonize with the color of the muslin she wore, and suggested that a +frill of lace about the neck would be softer and more becoming than +the stiff white linen collar.</p> + +<p>"But in the country it does not matter," she said. "Wait till I get +you to New York, under Madam Blank's supervision, and then we shall +see a transformation such as will astonish the humble Hanoverians."</p> + +<p>This was up in Anna's room, and when the Glen was reached Mrs. +Meredith continued the conversation, telling Anna of her plans for +taking her first to New York, where she was to pass through a +reformatory process with regard to dress. Then they were going to +Saratoga, where she expected her niece to reign supreme; both as a +beauty and a belle.</p> + +<p>"Whatever I have left at my death I shall leave to you," she said; +"consequently you will pass as an heiress expectant, and with all +these aids I confidently expect you to make a brilliant match before +the winter season closes, if, indeed, you do not before you leave +Saratoga."</p> + +<p>"Oh, aunt," Anna exclaimed, her brown eyes flashing with unwonted +brilliancy, and the rich color mantling her cheek. "You surely are not +taking me to Saratoga on such a shameful errand as that?"</p> + +<p>"Shameful errand as what?" Mrs. Meredith asked, looking quickly up, +while Anna replied:</p> + +<p>"Trying to find a husband. I cannot go if you are, much as I have +anticipated it. I should despise and hate myself forever. No, aunt, I +cannot go."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, child. You don't know what you are saying," Mrs. Meredith +retorted, feeling intuitively that she must change her tactics and +keep her real intentions concealed if she would lead her niece into +the snare laid for her.</p> + +<p>Cunningly and carefully for the next half hour she talked, telling +Anna that she was not to be thrust upon the notice of any one—that +she herself had no patience with those intriguing mammas who push +their bold daughters forward, but that as a good marriage was the +<i>ultima thule</i> of a woman's hopes, it was but natural that she, as +Anna's aunt, should wish to see her well settled in life, and settled, +too, near herself, where they could see each other every day.</p> + +<p>"Of course, there is no one in Hanover whom you, as a Ruthven, would +stoop to marry," she said, fixing her eyes inquiringly upon Anna, who +was pulling to pieces the wild flowers she had gathered, and thinking +of that twilight hour when she had talked with their young clergyman +as she never talked before. Of the many times, too, when they had met +in the cottages of the poor, and he had walked slowly home with her, +lingering by the gate, as if loth to say good-by, she thought, and the +life she had lived since he first came to Hanover, and she learned to +blush when she met the glance of his eye, looked fairer far than the +life her aunt, had marked out as the proper one for a Ruthven.</p> + +<p>"You have not told me yet. Is there any one in Hanover whom you think +worthy of you?" Mrs. Meredith asked, just as a footstep was heard, and +the rector of St. Mark's came round the rock where they were sitting.</p> + +<p>He had called at the farmhouse, bringing the letter, and with it a +book of poetry, of which Anna had asked the loan.</p> + +<p>Taking advantage of her guest's absence, Grandma Humphreys had gone to +a neighbor's after a recipe for making a certain kind of cake of which +Mrs. Meredith was very fond, and only Esther, the servant, and +Valencia, the smart waiting maid, without whom Mrs. Meredith never +traveled, were left in charge.</p> + +<p>"Down in the Glen with Mrs. Meredith. Will you be pleased to wait +while I call them?" Esther said, in reply to the rector's inquiries +for Miss Ruthven.</p> + +<p>"No, I will find them myself," Mr. Leighton rejoined. Then, as he +thought how impossible it would be to give the letter to Anna in the +presence of her aunt, he slipped it into the book which he bade Esther +take to Miss Ruthven's room.</p> + +<p>Knowing how honest and faithful Esther was, the rector felt that he +could trust her without fear for the safety of his letter, sought the +Glen, where the tell-tale blushes which burned on Anna's cheek at +sight of him more than compensated for the coolness with which Mrs. +Meredith greeted him. She, too, had detected Anna's embarrassment, and +when the stranger was presented to her as "Mr. Leighton, our +clergyman," the secret was out.</p> + +<p>"Why is it that since the beginning of time girls have run wild after +young ministers?" was her mental comment, as she bowed to Mr. +Leighton, and then quietly inspected his <i>personnel</i>.</p> + +<p>There was nothing about Arthur Leighton's appearance with which she +could find fault. He was even finer looking than Thornton Hastings, +her <i>beau ideal</i> of a man, and as he stood a moment by Anna's side, +looking down upon her, the woman of the world acknowledged to herself +that they were a well-assorted pair, and as across the chasm of twenty +years there came back to her an episode in her life, when, on just +such a day as this, she had answered "no" to one as young and worthy +as Arthur Leighton, while all the time the heart was clinging to him, +she softened for a moment, and by the memory of the weary years passed +with the rich old man whose name she bore, she was tempted to leave +alone the couple standing there before her, and looking into each +other's eyes with a look which she could not mistake. But when she +remembered that Arthur was only a poor clergyman, and thought of that +house on Madison Square which Thornton Hastings owned, the softened +mood was changed, and Arthur Leighton's chance with her was gone.</p> + +<p>Awhile they talked together in the Glen, and then walked back to the +farmhouse, where the rector bade them good evening, after casually +saying to Anna:</p> + +<p>"I have brought the book you spoke of when I was here last. You will +find it in your room, where I asked Esther to take it."</p> + +<p>That Mr. Leighton should bring her niece a book did not seem strange +at all, but that he should be so very thoughtful as to tell Esther to +take it to her room struck her as rather odd, and as the practiced +war-horse scents the battle from afar, so Mrs. Meredith at once +suspected something wrong, and felt a curiosity to know what the book +could be.</p> + +<p>It was lying on Anna's table as she reached the door on her way to her +own room, and, pausing for a moment, she entered the chamber, took it +in her hands, read the title page, and then opened it to where the +letter lay.</p> + +<p>"Miss Anna Ruthven," she said. "He writes a fair hand;" and then, as +the thought, which at first was scarce a thought, kept growing in her +mind, she turned it over, and found that, owing to some defect, it had +become unsealed and the lid of the envelope lay temptingly open before +her. "I would never break a seal," she said, "but surely, as her +protector and almost mother, I may read what this minister has written +to my niece."</p> + +<p>She read what he had written, while a scowl of disapprobation marred +the smoothness of her brow.</p> + +<p>"It is as I feared. Once let her see this, and Thornton Hastings may +woo in vain. But it shall not be. It is my duty as the sister of her +dead father, to interfere and not let her throw herself away."</p> + +<p>Perhaps Mrs. Meredith really felt that she was doing her duty. At all +events, she did not give herself much time to reason upon the matter, +for, startled by a slight movement in the room directly opposite, the +door of which was ajar, she thrust the letter into her pocket and +turned to see—Valencia, standing with her back to her, and arranging +her hair in a mirror which hung upon the wall.</p> + +<p>"She could not have seen me; and, even if she did, she would not +suspect the truth," was the guilty woman's thought, as, with the +stolen missive in her pocket, she went down to the parlor and tried, +by petting Anna more than her wont, to still the voice of conscience +which clamored loudly of the wrong, and urged a restoration of the +letter to the place whence it was taken.</p> + +<p>But the golden moment fled, and when, later in the evening, Anna went +up to her chamber and opened the book which the rector had brought, +she never suspected how near she had been to the great happiness she +had sometimes dared to hope for, or dreamed how fervently Arthur +Leighton prayed that night that, if it were possible, God would grant +the boon he craved above all others—the priceless gift of Anna +Ruthven's love.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III.</h3> + +<h4>SUNDAY.</h4> + + +<p>There was an unnatural flush on the rector's face, and his lips were +very white when he came before his people that Sunday morning, for he +felt that he was approaching the crisis of his fate; that he had only +to look across the row of heads up to where Anna sat, and he should +know the truth. Such thoughts savored far too much of the world which +he had renounced, he knew, and he had striven to banish them from his +mind; but they were there still, and would be there until he had +glanced once at Anna, occupying her accustomed seat, and quietly +turning to the chant she was so soon to sing: "Oh, come, let us sing +unto the Lord; let us heartily rejoice in the strength of His +salvation." The words echoed through the house, filling it with rare +melody, for Anna was in perfect tone that morning, and the rector, +listening to her with hands folded upon his prayer-book, felt that she +could not thus "heartily rejoice," meaning all the while to darken his +whole life, as she surely would if she told him "no." He was looking +at her now, and she met his eyes at last, but quickly dropped her own, +while he was sure that the roses burned a little brighter on her +cheek, and that her voice trembled just enough to give him hope, and +help him in his fierce struggle to cast her from his mind and think +only of the solemn services in which he was engaging. He could not +guess that the proud woman who had sailed so majestically into church, +and followed so reverently every prescribed form, bowing in the creed +far lower than ever bow was made before in Hanover, had played him +false and was the dark shadow in his path.</p> + +<p>That day was a trying one for Arthur, for, just as the chant was ended +and the psalter was beginning, a handsome carriage dashed up to the +door, and, had he been wholly blind, he would have known, by the +sudden sound of turning heads and the suppressed hush which ensued, +that a perfect hailstorm of dignity was entering St. Mark's.</p> + +<p>It was the Hethertons, from Prospect Hill, whose arrival in town had +been so long expected. Mrs. Hetherton, who, more years ago than she +cared to remember, was born in Hanover, but who had lived most of her +life either in Paris, New York or New Orleans and who this year had +decided to fit up her father's old place, and honor it with her +presence for a few weeks at least; also, Fanny Hetherton, a brilliant +brunette, into whose intensely black eyes no one could long look, they +were so bright, so piercing, and seemed so thoroughly to read one's +inmost thoughts; also, Colonel Hetherton, who had served in the +Mexican war, and, retiring on the glory of having once led a forlorn +hope, now obtained his living by acting as attendant on his +fashionable wife and daughter; also, young Dr. Simon Bellamy who, +while obedient to the flashing of Miss Fanny's black eyes, still found +stolen opportunities for glancing at the fifth and last remaining +member of the party, filing up the aisle to the large, square pew, +where old Judge Howard used to sit, and which was still owned by his +daughter. Mrs. Hetherton liked being late at church, and so, +notwithstanding that the Colonel had worked himself into a tempest of +excitement, had tied and untied her bonnet-strings half a dozen times, +changed her rich basquine for a thread lace mantilla, and then, just +as the bell from St. Mark's gave forth its last note, and her +husband's impatience was oozing out in sundry little oaths, sworn +under his breath, she produced and fitted on her fat, white hands a +new pair of Alexander's, keeping herself as cool, and quiet, and +ladylike as if outside upon the graveled walk there was no wrathful +husband threatening to drive off and leave her, if she did not "quit +her cussed vanity, and come along."</p> + +<p>Such was the Hetherton party, and they created quite as great a +sensation as Mrs. Hetherton could desire, first upon the commoners, +the people nearest the door, who rented the cheaper pews; then upon +those farther up the aisle, and then upon Mrs. Meredith, who, +attracted by the rustling of heavy silk and aristocratic perfume +emanating from Mrs. Hetherton's handkerchief, slightly turned her head +at first, and, as the party swept by, stopped her reading entirely and +involuntarily started forward, while a smile of pleasure flitted +across her face as Fanny's black, saucy eyes took her, with others, +within their range of vision, and Fanny's black head nodded a quick +nod of recognition. The Hethertons and Mrs. Meredith were evidently +friends, and in her wonder at seeing them there, in stupid Hanover, +the great lady forgot for a while to read, but kept her eyes upon them +all, especially upon the fifth and last mentioned member of the party, +the graceful little blonde, whose eyes might have caught their hue +from the deep blue of the summer sky, and whose long, silken curls +fell in a golden shower beneath the fanciful French hat. She was a +beautiful young creature, and even Anna Ruthven leaned forward to look +at her as she shook out her airy muslin and dropped into her seat. For +a moment the little coquettish head bowed reverently, but at the first +sound of the rector's voice it lifted itself up quickly, and Anna saw +the bright color which rushed into her cheeks and the eager joy which +danced in the blue eyes, fixed so earnestly upon the rector, who, at +sight of her, started suddenly and paused an instant in his reading. +Who was she, and what was she to Arthur Leighton? Anna asked herself, +while, by the fierce pang which shot through her heart, as she watched +the stranger and the clergyman, she knew that she loved the rector of +St. Mark's, even if she doubted it before.</p> + +<p>Anna was not an ill-tempered girl, but the sight of those gay city +people annoyed her, and when, at she sang the Jubilate Deo, she saw +the soft blue orbs of the blonde and the coal-black eyes of the +brunette, turning wonderingly toward her, she was conscious of +returning their glance with as much of scorn as it was possible for +her to show. Anna tried to ask forgiveness for that feeling in the +prayers which followed; but, when the services were over, and she saw +a little figure in blue and white flitting up the aisle to where +Arthur, still in his robes, stood waiting for her, an expression upon +his face which she could not define, she felt that she had prayed in +vain; and, with a bitterness she had never before experienced, she +watched the meeting between them, growing more and more bitter as she +saw the upturned face, the wreathing of the rosebud lips into the +sweetest of smiles, and the tiny white hand, which Arthur took and +held while he spoke words she would have given much to hear.</p> + +<p>"Why do I care? It's nothing to me," she thought, and, with a proud +step, she was leaving the church, when her aunt, who was shaking hands +with the Hethertons, signed for her to join her.</p> + +<p>The blonde was now coming down the aisle with Mr. Leighton, and +joined the group just as Anna was introduced as "My niece, Miss Anna +Ruthven."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you are the Anna of whom I have heard so much from Ada Fuller. +You were at school together in Troy," Miss Fanny said, her searching +eyes taking in every point as if she were deciding how far her new +acquaintance was entitled to the praise she had heard bestowed upon +her.</p> + +<p>"I know Miss Fuller—yes;" and Anna bowed haughtily, turning next to +the blonde, Miss Lucy Harcourt, who was telling Colonel Hetherton how +she had met Mr. Leighton first among the Alps, and afterwards traveled +with him until the party returned to Paris, where he left them for +America.</p> + +<p>"I was never so surprised in my life as I was to find him here. Why, +it actually took my breath for a moment," she went on, "and I greatly +fear that, instead of listening to his sermon, I have been roaming +amid that Alpine scenery and basking again in the soft moonlight of +Venice. I heard you singing, though," she said, when Anna was +presented to her, "and it helped to keep up the illusion—it was so +like the music heard from a gondola that night, when Mr. Leighton and +myself made a voyage through the streets of Venice. Oh, it was so +beautiful," and the blue eyes turned to Mr. Leighton for confirmation +of what the lips had uttered.</p> + +<p>"Which was beautiful?—Miss Ruthven's singing or that moonlight night +in Venice?" young Bellamy asked, smiling down upon the little lady who +still held Anna's hand, and who laughingly replied:</p> + +<p>"Both, of course, though the singing is just now freshest in my +memory. I like it so much. You must have had splendid teachers," and +she turned again to Anna, whose face was suffused with blushes as she +met the rector's eyes, for to his suggestions and criticisms and +teachings she owed much of that cultivation which had so pleased and +surprised the stranger.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, I see it was Arthur. He tried to train me once, and told me +I had a squeak in my voice. Don't you remember?—those frightfully +rainy days in Rome?" Miss Harcourt said, the Arthur dropping from her +lips as readily as if they had always been accustomed to speak it.</p> + +<p>She was a talkative, coquettish little lady, but there was something +about her so genuine and cordial, that Anna felt the ice thawing +around her heart, and even returned the pressure of the snowy fingers +which had twined themselves around her, as Lucy rattled on until the +whole party left the church. It had been decided that Mrs. Meredith +should call at Prospect Hill as early as Tuesday, at least; and, still +holding Anna's hand Miss Harcourt whispered to her the pleasure it +would be to see her again.</p> + +<p>"I know I am going to like you. I can tell directly I can see a +person—can't I Arthur?" and, kissing her hand to Mrs. Meredith, Anna, +and the rector, too, she sprang into the carriage, and was whirled +rapidly away.</p> + +<p>"Who is she?" Anna asked, and Mr. Leighton replied:</p> + +<p>"She is an orphan niece of Colonel Hetherton's, and a great heiress, I +believe, though I never paid much attention to the absurd stories told +concerning her wealth."</p> + +<p>"You met in Europe?" Mrs. Meredith said, and he replied:</p> + +<p>"Yes, she has been quite an invalid, and has spent four years abroad, +where I accidentally met her. It was a very pleasant party, and I was +induced to join it, though I was with them in all not more than four +months."</p> + +<p>He told this very rapidly, and an acute observer would have seen that +he did not care particularly to talk of Lucy Harcourt, with Anna for +an auditor. She was walking very demurely at his side, pondering in +her mind the circumstances which could have brought the rector and +Lucy Harcourt into such familiar relations as to warrant her calling +him Arthur and appear so delighted to see him.</p> + +<p>"Can it be there was anything between them?" she thought, and her +heart began to harden against the innocent Lucy, at that very moment +chatting so pleasantly of her and of Arthur, too, replying to Mrs. +Hetherton, who suggested that Mr. Leighton would be more appropriate +for a clergyman.</p> + +<p>"I shall say Arthur, for he told me I might that time we were in Rome. +I could not like him as well if I called him Mr. Leighton. Isn't he +splendid, though, in his gown, and wasn't his sermon grand?"</p> + +<p>"What was the text?" asked Dr. Bellamy, mischievously, and, with a +toss of her golden curls and a merry twinkle of her eyes, Lucy +replied, "Simon, Simon, lovest thou me?"</p> + +<p>Quick as a flash of lightning the hot blood mounted to the doctor's +face, while Fanny cast upon him a searching glance as if she would +read him through. Fanny Hetherton would have given much to know the +answer which Dr. Simon Bellamy mentally gave to that question, put by +one whom he had known but little more than three months. It was not +fair for Lucy to steal away all Fanny's beaux, as she surely had been +doing ever since her feet touched the soil of the New World, and truth +to tell, Fanny had borne it very well, until young Dr. Bellamy showed +signs of desertion. Then the spirit of resistance was roused, and she +watched her lover narrowly, gnashing her teeth sometimes when she saw +his ill-concealed admiration for her sprightly little cousin, who +could say and do with perfect impunity so many things which in another +would have been improper to the last degree. She was a tolerably +correct reader of human nature, and, from the moment she witnessed the +meeting between Lucy and the rector of St. Marks, she took courage, +for she readily guessed the channel in which her cousin's preference +ran. The rector, however, she could not read so well; but few men she +knew could withstand the fascinations of her cousin, backed as they +were, by the glamour of half a million; and, though her mother, and, +possibly, her father, too, would be shocked at the <i>mésalliance</i> and +throw obstacles in the way, she was capable of removing them all, and +she would do it, too, sooner than lose the only man she had ever cared +for. These were Fanny's thoughts as she rode home from church that +Sunday afternoon, and, by the time Prospect Hill was reached, Lucy +Harcourt could not have desired a more powerful ally than she +possessed in the person of her resolute, strong-willed cousin.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.</h3> + +<h4>BLUE MONDAY.</h4> + + +<p>It was to all intents and purposes "blue Monday" with the rector of +St. Mark's, for, aside from the weariness and exhaustion which always +followed his two services on Sunday, and his care of the Sunday +school, there was a feeling of disquiet and depression, occasioned +partly by that <i>rencontre</i> with pretty Lucy Harcourt, and partly by +the uncertainty as to what Anna's answer might be. He had seen the +look of displeasure on her face as she stood watching him and Lucy, +and though to many this would have given hope, it only added to his +nervous fears lest his suit should be denied. He was sorry that Lucy +Harcourt was in the neighborhood, and sorrier still for her tenacious +memory, which had evidently treasured up every incident which he could +wish forgotten. With Anna Ruthven absorbing every thought and feeling +of his heart, it was not pleasant to remember what had been a genuine +flirtation between himself and the sparkling belle he had met among +the Alps.</p> + +<p>It was nothing but a flirtation, he knew, for in his inmost soul he +absolved himself from ever having had a thought of matrimony connected +with Lucy Harcourt. He had admired her greatly and loved to wander +with her amid the Alpine scenery, listening to her wild bursts of +enthusiasm, and watching the kindling light in her blue eyes, and the +color coming to her thin, pale cheeks, as she gazed upon some scene of +grandeur, nestling close to him as for protection, when the path was +fraught with peril.</p> + +<p>Afterwards, in Venice, beneath the influence of those glorious +moonlight nights, he had been conscious of a deeper feeling which, had +he tarried longer at the siren's side, might have ripened into love. +But he left her in time to escape what he felt would have been a most +unfortunate affair for him, for, sweet and beautiful as she was, Lucy +was not the wife for a clergyman to choose. She was not like Anna +Ruthven, whom both young and old had said was so suitable for him.</p> + +<p>"And just because she is suitable, I may not win her, perhaps," he +thought, as he paced up and down his library, wondering when she would +answer his letter, and wondering next how he could persuade Lucy +Harcourt that between the young theological student, sailing in a +gondola through the streets of Venice, and the rector of St. Mark's, +there was a vast difference; that while the former might be Arthur +with perfect propriety, the latter should be Mr. Leighton, in Anna's +presence, at least.</p> + +<p>And yet the rector of St. Mark's was conscious of a pleasurable +emotion, even now, as he recalled the time when she had, at his own +request, first called him Arthur, her bird-like voice hesitating just +a little, and her soft eyes looking coyly up to him, as she said:</p> + +<p>"I am afraid that Arthur is hardly the name by which to call a +clergyman."</p> + +<p>"I am not in orders yet, so let me be Arthur to you. I love to hear +you call me so, and you to me shall be Lucy," was his reply.</p> + +<p>A mutual clasp of hands had sealed the compact, and that was the +nearest to love-making of anything which had passed between them, if +we except the time when he had said good-by, and wiped away a tear +which came unbidden to her eye as she told him how lonely she would be +without him.</p> + +<p>Hers was a nature as transparent as glass, and the young man, who for +days had paced the ship's deck so moodily, was fighting back the +thoughts which had whispered that in his intercourse with her he had +not been all guiltless, and that if in her girlish heart there was a +feeling for him stronger than that of friendship he had helped to give +it life.</p> + +<p>Time and absence and Anna Ruthven had obliterated all such thoughts +till now, when Lucy herself had brought them back again with her +winsome ways, and her evident intention to begin just where they had +left off.</p> + +<p>"Let Anna tell me yes, and I will at once proclaim our engagement, +which will relieve me from all embarrassments in that quarter," the +clergyman was thinking, just as his housekeeper came up, bringing him +two notes—one in a strange handwriting, and the other in the +graceful, running hand which he recognized as Lucy Harcourt's.</p> + +<p>This he opened first, reading as follows:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p class="right">Prospect Hill, June—.</p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Mr. Leighton</span>: Dear Sir—Cousin Fanny is to have a picnic down +in the west woods to-morrow afternoon, and she requests the +pleasure of your presence. Mrs. Meredith and Miss Ruthven are to +be invited. Do come.</p> + +<p>"Yours truly,</p> + +<p class="right">"<span class="smcap">Lucy.</span>"</p> +</div> + +<p>Yes, he would go, and if Anna's answer had not come before, he would +ask her for it. There would be plenty of opportunities down in those +deep woods. On the whole, it would be pleasanter to hear the answer +from her own lips, and see the blushes on her cheeks when he tried to +look into her eyes.</p> + +<p>The imaginative rector could almost see those eyes, and feel the touch +of her hand as he took the other note—the one which Mrs. Meredith had +shut herself in her bedroom to write, and sent slyly by Valencia, who +was to tell no one where she had been.</p> + +<p>A gleam of intelligence shot from Valencia's eyes as she took the note +and carried it safely to the parsonage, never yielding to the +temptation to read it, just as she had read the one abstracted from +the book, returning it when read to her mistress's pocket, where she +had found it while the family were at church.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Meredith's note was as follows:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"<span class="smcap">My Dear Mr. Leighton</span>: It is my niece's wish that I answer the +letter you were so kind as to inclose in the book left for her +last Saturday. She desires me to say that, though she has a very +great regard for you as her clergyman and friend, she cannot be +your wife, and she regrets exceedingly if she has in any way led +you to construe the interest she has always manifested in you +into a deeper feeling.</p> + +<p>"She begs me to say that it gives her great pain to refuse one so +noble and good as she knows you to be, and she only does it +because she cannot find in her heart the love without which no +marriage can be happy.</p> + +<p>"She is really very wretched about it, because she fears she may +lose your friendship, and, as a proof that she has not, she asks +that the subject may never in any way, be alluded to again; that +when you meet it may be exactly as heretofore, without a word or +sign on your part that ever you offered her the highest honor a +man can offer a woman.</p> + +<p>"And sure I am, my dear Mr. Leighton, that you will accede to her +wishes. I am very sorry it has occurred, sorry for you both, and +especially sorry for you; but, believe me, you will get over it +in time and come to see that my niece is not a proper person to +be a clergyman's wife.</p> + +<p>"Come and see us as usual. You will find Anna appearing very +natural.</p> + +<p>"Yours cordially and sincerely,</p> + +<p class="right">"<span class="smcap">Julie Meredith</span>."</p></div> + +<p>This was the letter which the cruel woman had written, and it dropped +from the rector's nerveless fingers as, with a groan, he bent his head +upon the back of a chair, and tried to realize the magnitude of the +blow which had fallen so suddenly upon him. Not till now did he +realize how, amid all his doubts, he had still been sure of winning +her, and the shock was terrible.</p> + +<p>He had staked his all on Anna, and lost all; the world, which before +had been so bright, looked very dreary now, while he felt that he +could never again come before his people weighed down with so great a +load of pain and humiliation: for it touched the young man's pride +that, not content to refuse him, Anna had chosen another than herself +as the medium through which her refusal must be conveyed to him. He +did not fancy Mrs. Meredith. He would rather she did not possess his +secret, and it hurt him cruelly to know that she did.</p> + +<p>It was a bitter hour for the clergyman, for, strong and clear as was +his faith in God, who doeth all things well, he lost sight of it for a +time, and poor weak human nature cried:</p> + +<p>"It's more than I can bear."</p> + +<p>But as the mother does not forget her child, even though she passes +from her sight, so God had not forgotten, and the darkness broke at +last—the lips could pray again for strength to bear and faith to do +all that God might require.</p> + +<p>"Though He slay me I will trust Him," came like a ray of sunlight +into the rector's mind, and ere the day was over he could say with a +full heart, "Thy will be done."</p> + +<p>He was very pale, and his lip quivered occasionally as he thought of +all he had lost, while a blinding headache, induced by strong +excitement, drove him nearly wild with pain. He had been subject to +headaches all his life, but he had never suffered as he was suffering +now but once, and that was on a rainy day in Rome, when, boasting of +her mesmeric power, Lucy had stood by him, and passed her dimpled +hands soothingly across his throbbing temples.</p> + +<p>Those little hands, how soft and cool they were—but they had not +thrilled him as the touch of Anna's did when they hung the Christmas +wreaths and she wore that bunch of scarlet berries in her hair.</p> + +<p>That time seemed very far away, farther even than Rome and the +moonlight nights of Venice. He did not like to think of it, for the +bright hopes which were budding then were blighted now and dead; and, +with a moan, he laid his aching head upon his pillow and tried to +forget all he had ever hoped or longed for in the future.</p> + +<p>"She will marry Thornton Hastings. He is a more eligible match than a +poor clergyman," he said, and then, as he remembered Thornton's +letter, and that his man Thomas would be coming soon to ask if there +were letters to be taken to the office, he arose, and, going to the +study table, wrote hastily:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Thorne</span>: I am suffering from one of those horrid headaches +which used to make me as weak as a helpless woman, but I will +write just enough to say that I have no claim on Anna Ruthven, +and you are free to press your suit as urgently as you please. +She is a noble girl, worthy even to be Mrs. Thornton Hastings, +and if I cannot have her, I would rather give her to you than any +one I know. Only don't ask me to perform the ceremony.</p> + +<p>"There, I've let the secret out; but no matter, I have always +confided in you, and so I may as well confess that I have offered +myself and been refused. Yours truly,</p> + +<p class="right">"<span class="smcap">Arthur Leighton.</span>"</p></div> + +<p>The rector felt better after that letter was written. He had told his +grievance to some one, and it seemed to have lightened half.</p> + +<p>"Thorne is a good fellow," he said, as he directed the letter. "A +little fast, it's true, but a splendid fellow, after all. He will +sympathize with me in his way, and I would rather give Anna to him +than any other living man."</p> + +<p>Arthur was serious in what he said, for, wholly unlike as they were, +there was between him and Thornton Hastings one of those strong, +peculiar friendships which sometimes exist between two men, but rarely +between two women, of so widely different temperaments. They had +roomed together four years in college, and countless were the +difficulties from which the sober Arthur had extricated the luckless +Thorne, while many a time the rather slender means of Arthur had been +increased in a way so delicate that expostulation was next to +impossible.</p> + +<p>Arthur was better off now in worldly goods, for, by the death of an +uncle, he had come in possession of a few thousand dollars, which +enabled him to travel in Europe for a year, and left a surplus, from +which he had fed the poor and needy with not sparing hand.</p> + +<p>St. Mark's was his first parish, and, though he could have chosen one +nearer to New York, where the society was more congenial to his taste, +he had accepted what God offered to him, and been very happy there, +especially since Anna Ruthven came home from Troy and made such havoc +with his heart. He did not believe he should ever be quite so happy +again, but he would try to do his work, and take thankfully whatever +of good might come to him.</p> + +<p>This was his final decision, and when at last he laid him down to +rest, the wound, though deep and sore, and bleeding yet, was not quite +as hard to bear as it had been earlier in the day, when it was fresh +and raw, and faith and hope seemed swept away.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V.</h3> + +<h4>TUESDAY.</h4> + + +<p>That open grassy spot in the dense shadow of the west woods was just +the place for a picnic, and it looked very bright and pleasant that +warm June afternoon, with the rustic table so fancifully arranged, the +camp stools scattered over the lawn, and the bouquets of flowers +depending from the trees.</p> + +<p>Fanny Hetherton had given it her whole care, aided and abetted by Dr. +Bellamy, what time he could spare from Lucy, who, imbued with a mortal +fear of insects, seemed this day to gather scores of bugs and worms +upon her dress and hair, screaming with every worm and bringing the +doctor obediently to her aid.</p> + +<p>"I'd stay at home, I think, if I was silly enough to be afraid of a +harmless caterpillar like that," Fanny had said, as with her own hands +she took from Lucy's curls and threw away a thousand-legged thing, the +very sight of which made poor Lucy shiver but did not send her to the +house.</p> + +<p>She was too much interested and too eagerly expectant of what the +afternoon would bring, and so she perched herself upon the fence where +nothing but ants could molest her, and finished the bouquets which +Fanny hung upon the trees until the lower limbs seemed one mass of +blossoms and the air was filled with the sweet perfume.</p> + +<p>Lucy was bewitchingly beautiful that afternoon in her dress of white, +her curls tied up with a blue ribbon, and her fair arms bare nearly to +the shoulders. Fanny, whose arms were neither plump nor white, had +expostulated with her cousin upon this style of dress, suggesting that +one as delicate as she could not fail to take a heavy cold when the +dews began to fall, but Lucy would not listen. Arthur Leighton had +told her once that he liked her with bare arms, and bare they should +be. She was bending every energy to please and captivate him, and a +cold was of no consequence provided she succeeded. So, like some +little fairy, she danced and flitted about, making fearful havoc with +Dr. Bellamy's wits and greatly vexing Fanny, who hailed with delight +the arrival of Mrs. Meredith and Anna. The latter was very pretty and +very becomingly attired in a light airy dress of blue, finished at the +throat and wrists with an edge of soft, fine lace. She, too, had +thought of Arthur in the making of her toilet, and it was for him that +the white rosebuds were placed in her heavy braids of hair and +fastened on her belt. She was very sorry that she had allowed herself +to be vexed with Lucy Harcourt for her familiarity with Mr. Leighton, +very hopeful that he had not observed it, and very certain now of his +preference for herself. She would be very gracious that afternoon, she +thought, and not one bit jealous of Lucy, though she called him Arthur +a hundred times.</p> + +<p>Thus it was in the most amiable of moods that Anna appeared upon the +lawn, where she was warmly welcomed by Lucy, who, seizing both her +hands, led her away to see the arrangements, chatting gayly all the +time, and casting rapid glances up the lane, as if in quest of some +one.</p> + +<p>"I'm so glad you've come. I've thought of you so much. Do you know it +seems to me there must be some bond of sympathy between us, or I +should not like you so well at once? I drove by the rectory early this +morning—the dearest little place, with such a lovely garden. Arthur +was working in it, and I made him give me some roses. See, I have one +in my curls. Then, when he brought them to the carriage, I kept him +there while I asked numberless questions about you, and heard from him +just how good you are, and how you help him in the Sunday-school and +everywhere, visiting the poor, picking up ragged children and doing +things I never thought of doing; but I am not going to be so useless +any longer, and the next time you visit some of the very miserablest I +want you to take me with you. Do you ever meet Arthur there? Oh, here +he comes," and with a bound, Lucy darted away from Anna toward the +spot where the rector stood receiving Mrs. and Miss Hetherton's +greeting.</p> + +<p>As Lucy had said, she had driven by the rectory, with no earthly +object but the hope of seeing the rector, and had hurt him cruelly +with her questionings of Anna, and annoyed him a little with her +anxious inquiries as to the cause of his pallid face and sunken eyes; +but she was so bewitchingly pretty, and so thoroughly kind withal, +that he could not be annoyed long, and he felt better for having seen +her bright, coquettish face, and listened to her childish prattle. It +was a great trial for him to attend the picnic that afternoon, but he +met it bravely, and schooled himself to appear as if there were no +such things in the world as aching hearts and cruel disappointments. +His face was very pale, but his recent headache would account for +that, and he acted his part successfully, shivering a little, it is +true, when Anna expressed her sorrow that he should suffer so often +from these attacks, and suggested that he take a short vacation and go +with them to Saratoga.</p> + +<p>"I should so much like to have you," she said, and her clear, honest +eyes looked him straight in the face, as she asked why he could not.</p> + +<p>"What does she mean?" the rector thought. "Is she trying to tantalize +me? I expected her to be natural, as her aunt laid great stress on +that, but she need not overdo the matter by showing me how little she +cares for having hurt me so."</p> + +<p>Then, as a flash of pride came to his aid, he thought, "I will at +least be even with her. She shall not have the satisfaction of +guessing how much I suffer," and as Lucy then called to him from the +opposite side of the lawn, he asked Anna to accompany him thither, +just as he would have done a week before. Once that afternoon he found +himself alone with her in a quiet part of the woods, where the long +branches of a great oak came nearly to the ground, and formed a little +bower which looked so inviting that Anna sat down upon the gnarled +roots of the tree, and, tossing her hat upon the grass, exclaimed, +"How nice and pleasant it is here. Come, sit down, too, while I tell +you about my class in Sunday-school, and that poor Mrs. Hobbs across +the mill stream. You won't forget her, will you? I told her you would +visit her the oftener when I was gone. Do you know she cried because I +was going? It made me feel so badly that I doubted if it was right for +me to go," and, pulling down a handful of the oak leaves above her +head, Anna began weaving together a chaplet, while the rector stood +watching her with a puzzled expression upon his face. She did not act +as if she ever could have dictated that letter, but he had no +suspicion of the truth and answered rather coldly, "I did not suppose +you cared how much we might miss you at home."</p> + +<p>Something in his tone made Anna look up into his face, and her eyes +immediately filled with tears, for she knew that in some way she had +displeased him.</p> + +<p>"Then you mistake me," she replied, the tears still glittering on her +long eyelashes, and her fingers trembling among the oaken leaves. "I +do care whether I am missed or not."</p> + +<p>"Missed by whom?" the rector asked, and Anna impetuously replied, +"Missed by the parish poor, and by you, too, Mr. Leighton. You don't +know how often I shall think of you, or how sorry I am that——"</p> + +<p>She did not finish the sentence, for the rector had leaped madly at +the conclusion, and was down in the grass at her side with both her +hands in his.</p> + +<p>"Anna, oh Anna," he began so pleadingly, "have you repented of your +decision? Tell me that you have and it will make me so happy. I have +been so wretched ever since."</p> + +<p>She thought he meant her decision about going to Saratoga, and she +replied: "I have not repented, Mr. Leighton. Aunt Meredith thinks it +best, and so do I, though I am sorry for you, if you really do care so +much."</p> + +<p>Anna was talking blindly, her thoughts upon one subject, while the +rector's were upon another, and matters were getting somewhat mixed +when, "Arthur, Arthur, where are you?" came ringing through the woods +and Lucy Harcourt appeared, telling them that the refreshments were +ready.</p> + +<p>"We are only waiting for you two, wondering where you had gone, but +never dreaming that you had stolen away to make love," she said, +playfully, adding more earnestly as she saw the traces of agitation +visible in Anna's face, "and I do believe you were. If so, I beg +pardon for my intrusion."</p> + +<p>She spoke a little sharply and glanced inquiringly at Mr. Leighton; +who, feeling that he had virtually been repulsed a second time by +Anna, answered her, "On the contrary, I am very glad you came, and so, +I am sure, is Miss Anna. I am ready to join you at the table. Come, +Anna, they are waiting," and he offered his arm to the bewildered +girl, who replied, "Not just now, please. Leave me for a moment. I +won't be long."</p> + +<p>Very curiously Lucy looked at Anna and then at Mr. Leighton, who, +fully appreciating the feelings of the latter, said, by way of +explanation: "You see, she has not quite finished that chaplet, which, +I suspect, is intended for you. I think we had better leave her," and, +drawing Lucy's hand under his own, he walked away, leaving Anna more +stunned and pained than she had ever been before. Surely if love had +ever spoken in tone and voice and manner, it had spoken when Mr. +Leighton was kneeling on the grass, holding her hands in his. "Anna, +oh, Anna!" How she had thrilled at the sound of those words and waited +for what might follow next. Why had his manner changed so suddenly, +and why had he been so glad to be interrupted? Had he really no +intention of making love to her, and if he had, why did he rouse her +hopes so suddenly and then cruelly dash them to the ground? Was it +that he loved Lucy best, and that the sight of her froze the words +upon his lips?</p> + +<p>"Let him take her, then. He is welcome, for all of me," she thought; +and then, as a keen pang of shame and disappointment swept over her, +she laid her head for a moment upon the grass and wept bitterly. "He +must have seen what I expected and I care most for that," she sobbed, +resolving henceforth to guard herself at every point and do all that +lay in her power to further Lucy's interests, "He will thus see how +little I really care," she thought, and, lifting up her head, she tore +in fragments the wreath she had been making, but which she could not +now place on the head of her rival.</p> + +<p>Mr. Leighton was flirting terribly with her when she joined the party +assembled around the table, and he never once looked at Anna, though +he saw that her plate was well supplied with the best of everything, +and when at one draught she drained her glass of ice-water, he quietly +placed another within her reach, standing a little before her and +trying evidently to shield her from too critical observation. There +were two at least who were glad when the picnic was over, and various +were the private opinions of the company with regard to the +entertainment. Dr. Bellamy, who had been repeatedly foiled in his +attempts to be especially attentive to Lucy Harcourt, pronounced the +whole thing "a bore." Fanny, who had been highly displeased with the +doctor's deportment, came to the conclusion that the enjoyment did not +compensate for all the trouble, and while the rector thought he had +never spent a more thoroughly wretched day, and Anna would have given +worlds if she had stayed at home, Lucy declared that never in her life +had she had so perfectly delightful a time, always excepting, of +course, "that moonlight sail in Venice."</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.</h3> + +<h4>WEDNESDAY.</h4> + + +<p>There was a heavy shower the night succeeding the picnic and the +morning following was as balmy and bright as June mornings are wont to +be after a fall of rain. They were always early risers at the +farmhouse, but this morning Anna, who had slept but little, arose +earlier than usual and, leaning from the window to inhale the bracing +air and gather a bunch of roses fresh with the glittering raindrops, +she felt her spirits grow lighter and wondered at her discomposure of +the previous day. Particularly was she grieved that she should have +harbored a feeling of bitterness toward Lucy Harcourt, who was not to +blame for having won the love she had been foolish enough to covet.</p> + +<p>"He knew her first," she said, "and if he has since been pleased with +me, the sight of her has won him back to his allegiance, and it is +right. She is a pretty creature, but strangely unsuited, I fear, to be +his wife," and then, as she remembered Lucy's wish to go with her when +next she visited the poor, she said:</p> + +<p>"I will take her to see the Widow Hobbs. That will give her some idea +of the duties which will devolve upon her as a rector's wife. I can go +directly there from Prospect Hill, where, I suppose, I must call with +Aunt Meredith."</p> + +<p>Anna made herself believe that in doing this she was acting only from +a magnanimous desire to fit Lucy for her work, if, indeed, she was to +be Arthur's wife—that in taking the mantle from her own shoulders, +and wrapping it around her rival, she was doing a most amiable deed, +when down in her inmost heart, where the tempter had put it, there was +an unrecognized wish to see how the little dainty girl would shrink +from the miserable abode, and recoil from the touch of the little, +dirty hands which were sure to be laid upon her dress if the children +were at home, and she waited a little impatiently to start on her +errand of mercy.</p> + +<p>It was four o'clock when, with her aunt, she arrived at Colonel +Hetherton's and found the family assembled upon the broad piazza, the +doctor dutifully holding the skein of worsted from which Miss Fanny +was crocheting, and Lucy playing with a kitten, whose movements were +scarcely more graceful than her own, as she sprang up and ran to +welcome Anna.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, I am delighted to go with you. Pray let us start at once," +she exclaimed, when, after a few moments of conversation, Anna told +where she was going.</p> + +<p>Lucy was very gayly dressed, enough so for a party, Anna thought, +smiling to herself as she imagined the startling effect the white +muslin and bright plaid ribbons would have upon the inmates of the +shanty where they were going. There was a remonstrance from Mrs. +Hetherton against her niece's walking so far, and Mrs. Meredith +suggested that they should ride, but to this Lucy objected. She meant +to take Anna's place among the poor when she was gone, she said, and +how was she ever to do it if she could not walk such a little way as +that? Anna, too, was averse to riding and she felt a kind of grim +satisfaction when, after a time, the little figure, which at first had +skipped along ahead with all the airiness of a bird, began to lag, and +even pant for breath, as the way grew steeper and the path more stony +and rough. Anna's evil spirit was in the ascendant that afternoon, +steeling her heart against Lucy's doleful exclamations, as one after +another her delicate slippers were torn, and the sharp thistles, of +which the path was full, penetrated to her soft flesh. Straight and +unbending as a young Indian, Anna walked on, shutting her ears against +the sighs of weariness which reached them from time to time. But when +there came a half sobbing cry of actual pain, she stopped suddenly and +turned towards Lucy, whose breath came gaspingly, and whose cheeks +were almost purple with the exertion she had made.</p> + +<p>"I cannot go any farther until I rest," she said, sinking down, +exhausted, upon a large flat rock beneath a walnut tree.</p> + +<p>Touched with pity at the sight of the heated face, from which the +sweat was dripping, Anna too sat down beside her, and, laying her +curly head in her lap, smoothed the golden hair, hating herself +cordially, as Lucy said:</p> + +<p>"You've walked so fast I could not keep up. You do not know, perhaps, +how weak I am, and how little it takes to tire me. They say my heart +is diseased, and an unusual excitement might kill me."</p> + +<p>"No, oh, no!" Anna answered with a shudder, as she thought of what +might have been the result of her rashness, and then she smoothed the +wet hair, which, dried by the warm sunbeams, coiled itself up in +golden masses, which her fingers softly threaded.</p> + +<p>"I did not know until that time in Venice, when Arthur talked to me +so good, trying to make me feel that it was not hard to die, even if I +was so young and the world so full of beauty," Lucy went on, her voice +sounding very low and her bright shoulder-knots of ribbon trembling +with the rapid beating of her heart. "When he was talking to me I +could almost be willing to die, but the moment he was gone the doubts +and fears came back, and death was terrible again. I was always better +with Arthur. Everybody is, and I think your seeing so much of him is +one reason why you are so good."</p> + +<p>"No, no, I am not good," and Anna's hands pressed hard upon the +girlish head lying in her lap. "I am wicked beyond what you can guess. +I led you this rough way when I might have chosen a smooth, though +longer, road, and walked so fast on purpose to worry you."</p> + +<p>"To worry me. Why should you wish to do that?" and, lifting up her +head, Lucy looked wonderingly at the conscience-stricken Anna, who +could not confess to the jealousy, but who, in all other respects, +answered truthfully, "I think an evil spirit possessed me for a time, +and I wanted to show you that it was not so nice to visit the poor as +you seemed to think; but I am sorry, oh, so sorry, and you'll forgive +me, won't you?"</p> + +<p>A loving kiss was pressed upon her lips and a warm cheek was laid +against her own, as Lucy said, "Of course, I'll forgive you, though I +do not quite understand why you should wish to discourage me or tease +me either, when I liked you so much from the first moment I heard your +voice and saw you in the choir. You don't dislike me, do you?"</p> + +<p>"No, oh, no. I love you very dearly," Anna replied, her tears falling +like rain upon the slight form she hugged so passionately to her, and +which she would willingly have borne in her arms the remainder of +their way, as a kind of penance for her past misdeeds; but Lucy was +much better, she said, and so the two, between whom there was now a +bond of love which nothing could sever, went on together to the low, +dismal house where the Widow Hobbs lived.</p> + +<p>The gate was off the hinges, and Lucy's muslin was torn upon a nail +as she passed through, while the long fringe of her fleecy shawl was +caught in the tall tufts of thistle growing by the path. In a muddy +pool of water a few rods from the house a flock of ducks were +swimming, pelted occasionally by the group of dirty, ragged children +playing on the grass, and who at sight of the strangers and the basket +Anna carried, sprang up like a flock of pigeons and came trooping +towards her. It was not the sweet, pastoral scene which Lucy had +pictured to herself, with Arthur for the background, and her ardor was +greatly dampened even before the threshold was crossed, and she stood +in the low, close room where the sick woman lay, her large eyes +unnaturally bright, and turned wistfully upon them as she entered. +There were ashes upon the hearth and ashes upon the floor, a +hair-brush upon the table and an empty plate upon the chair, with +swarms of flies sipping the few drops of molasses and feeding upon the +crumbs of bread left there by the elfish-looking child now in the bed +beside its mother. There was nothing but poverty—squalid, disgusting +poverty—visible everywhere, and Lucy grew sick and faint at the, to +her, unusual sight.</p> + +<p>"They have not lived here long. We only found them three weeks ago; +they will look better by and by," Anna whispered, feeling that some +apology was necessary for the destitution and filth visible +everywhere.</p> + +<p>Daintily removing the plate to the table, and carefully tucking up her +skirts, Lucy sat down upon the wooden chair and looked dubiously on +while Anna made the sick woman more tidy in appearance, and then fed +her from the basket of provisions which Grandma Humphreys had sent.</p> + +<p>"I never could do that," Lucy thought, as, shoving off the little +dirty hand fingering her shoulder-knots she watched Anna washing the +poor woman's face, bending over her pillow as unhesitatingly as if it +had been covered with ruffled linen like those at Prospect Hill, +instead of the coarse, soiled rag which hardly deserved the name of +pillow-case. "No, I never could do that," and the possible life with +Arthur which the maiden had more than once imagined began to look very +dreary, when, suddenly, a shadow darkened the door, and Lucy knew +before she turned her head that the rector was standing at her back, +the blood tingling through her veins with a delicious feeling; as, +laying both hands upon her shoulders, and bending over her so that she +felt his breath upon her brow he said:</p> + +<p>"What, my Lady Lucy here? I hardly expected to find two ministering +angels, though I was almost sure of one," and his fine eyes rested on +Anna with a strange, wistful look of tenderness, which neither she nor +Lucy saw.</p> + +<p>"Then you knew she was coming," Lucy said, an uneasy thought flashing +across her mind as she remembered the picnic, and the scene she had +stumbled upon.</p> + +<p>But Arthur's reply, "I did not know she was coming, I only knew it was +like her," reassured her for a time, making her resolve to emulate the +virtues which Arthur seemed to prize so highly. What a difference his +presence made in that wretched room! She did not mind the poverty now, +or care if her dress was stained with the molasses left in the chair, +and the inquisitive child with tattered gown and bare brown legs was +welcome to examine and admire the bright plaid ribbons as much as she +chose.</p> + +<p>Lucy had no thought for anything but Arthur, and the subdued +expression of his face as, kneeling by the sick woman's bedside, he +said the prayers she had hungered for more than for the contents of +Anna's basket, now being purloined by the children crouched upon the +hearth and fighting over the last bit of gingerbread.</p> + +<p>"Hush-sh, little one," and Lucy's white, jeweled hand rested on the +head of the principal belligerent, who, awed by the beauty of her face +and the authoritative tone of her voice, kept quiet till the prayer +was over and Arthur had risen from his knees.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Lucy; I think I must constitute you my deaconess when Miss +Ruthven is gone. Your very presence has a subduing effect upon the +little savages. I never knew them so quiet before for a long time," +Arthur said to Lucy in a low tone, which, low as it was, reached +Anna's ear, but brought no pang of jealousy, or a sharp regret for +what she felt was lost forever.</p> + +<p>She was giving Lucy to Arthur Leighton, resolving that by every means +in her power she would further her rival's cause, and the hot tears +which dropped so fast upon Mrs. Hobbs' pillow while Arthur said the +prayer was but the baptism of that vow, and not, as Lucy thought, +because she felt so sorry for the suffering woman to whom she had +brought so much comfort.</p> + +<p>"God bless you wherever you go," she said, "and if there is any great +good which you desire, may He bring it to pass."</p> + +<p>"He never will—no, never," was the sad response in Anna's heart, as +she joined the clergyman and Lucy outside the door, the former +pointing to the ruined slippers and asking how she ever expected to +walk home in such dilapidated things.</p> + +<p>"I shall certainly have to carry you," he said, "or your blistered +feet will ever more be thrust forward as a reason why you cannot be my +deaconess."</p> + +<p>He seemed to be in unusual spirits that afternoon, and the party went +gaily on, Anna keeping a watchful care over Lucy, picking out the +smoothest places and passing her arm around her slender waist as they +were going up a hill.</p> + +<p>"I think it would be better if you both leaned on me," the rector +said, offering each an arm, and apologizing for not having thought to +do so before.</p> + +<p>"I do not need it, thank you, but Miss Harcourt does. I fear she is +very tired," said Anna, pointing to Lucy's face, which was so white +and ghastly; so like the face seen once before in Venice, that, +without another word, Arthur took the tired girl in his strong arms +and carried her safely to the summit of the hill.</p> + +<p>"Please put me down; I can walk now," Lucy pleaded; but Arthur felt +the rapid beatings of her heart, and kept her in his arms until they +reached Prospect Hill, where Mrs. Meredith was anxiously awaiting +their return, her brow clouding with distrust when she saw Mr. +Leighton, for she was constantly fearing lest her guilty secret should +be exposed.</p> + +<p>"I'll leave Hanover this very week, and so remove her from danger," +she thought as she arose to say good-night.</p> + +<p>"Just wait a minute, please. There's something I want to say to Miss +Ruthven," Lucy cried, and, leading Anna to her own room, she knelt +down by her side, and, looking up in her face, began—"There's one +question I wish to ask, and you must answer me truly. It is rude and +inquisitive, perhaps, but tell me—has Arthur—ever—ever—"</p> + +<p>Anna guessed at what was coming, and, with a gasping sob which Lucy +thought a long-drawn breath, she kissed the pretty parted lips, and +answered:</p> + +<p>"No, darling, Arthur never did, and never will, but some time he will +ask you to be his wife. I can see it coming so plain."</p> + +<p>Poor Anna! Her heart gave one great throb as she said this, and then +lay like a dead weight in her bosom, while with sparkling eyes and +blushing cheeks, Lucy exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"I am so glad—so glad. I have only known you since Sunday, but you +seem like an old friend; and so, you won't mind me telling you that +ever since I first met Arthur among the Alps I have lived in a kind of +ideal world of which he was the center. I am an orphan, you know, and +an heiress, too. There is half a million, they say; and Uncle +Hetherton has charge of it. Now, will you believe me when I say that I +would give every dollar of this for Arthur's love if I could not have +it without."</p> + +<p>"I do believe you," Anna replied, inexpressibly glad that the +gathering darkness hid her white face from view as the child-like, +unsuspecting girl went on. "The world, I know, would say that a poor +clergyman was not a good match for me, but I do not care for that. +Cousin Fanny favors it, I am sure, and Uncle Hetherton would not +oppose me when he saw I was in earnest. Once the world, which is a +very meddlesome thing, picked out Thornton Hastings, of New York, for +me; but my! he was too proud and lofty even to talk to me much, and I +would not speak to him after I heard of his saying that 'I was a +pretty little plaything, but far too frivolous for a sensible man to +make his wife.' Oh, wasn't I angry, though, and don't I hope that when +he gets a wife she will be exactly such a frivolous thing as I am."</p> + +<p>Even through the darkness Anna could see the blue eyes flash and the +delicate nostrils dilate as Lucy gave vent to her wrath against the +luckless Thornton Hastings.</p> + +<p>"You will meet him at Saratoga. He is always there in the summer, but +don't you speak to him, the hateful. He'll be calling you frivolous +next."</p> + +<p>An amused smile flitted across Anna's face as she asked: "But won't +you, too, be at Saratoga? I supposed you were all going there."</p> + +<p>"<i>Cela dépend</i>," Lucy replied. "I would so much rather stay here. The +dressing and dancing and flirting tire me so, and then, you know what +Arthur said about taking me for his deaconess in your place."</p> + +<p>There was a call just then from the hall below. Mrs. Meredith was +getting impatient of the delay, and, with a good-by kiss, Anna went +down the stairs and out upon the piazza, where her aunt was waiting. +Mr. Leighton had accepted Fanny's invitation to stay to tea, and he +handed the ladies to their carriage, lingering a moment while he said +his parting words, for he was going out of town to-morrow, and when he +returned Anna would be gone.</p> + +<p>"You will think of us sometimes," he said, still holding Anna's hand. +"St. Mark's will be lonely without you. God bless you and bring you +safely back."</p> + +<p>There was a warm pressure of the hand, a lifting of Arthur's hat, and +then the carriage moved away; but Anna, looking back, saw Arthur +standing by Lucy's side, fastening a rosebud in her hair, and at that +sight the gleam of hope, which for an instant had crept into her +heart, passed away with a sigh.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII.</h3> + +<h4>AT NEWPORT.</h4> + + +<p>Moved by a strange impulse, Thornton Hastings took himself and his +fast bays to Newport, instead of Saratoga, and thither, the first week +in August, came Mrs. Meredith, with eight large trunks, her niece and +her niece's wardrobe, which had cost the pretty sum of eighteen +hundred dollars.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Meredith was not naturally lavish of her money except where her +own interests were concerned, as they were in Anna's case. Conscious +of having come between her niece and the man she loved, she determined +that in the procuring of a substitute for this man, no advantages +which dress could afford should be lacking. Besides, Thornton Hastings +was a perfect connoisseur in everything pertaining to a lady's toilet, +and it was with him and his preference before her mind that Mrs. +Meredith opened her purse so widely and bought so extensively. There +were sun hats and round hats, and hats <i>à la cavalier</i>—there were +bonnets and veils, and dresses and shawls of every color and kind, +with the lesser matters of sashes and gloves and slippers and fans, +the whole making an array such as Anna had never seen before, and from +which she at first shrank back appalled and dismayed. But she was not +now quite so much of a novice as when she first reached New York the +Saturday following the picnic at Prospect Hill. She had passed +successfully and safely through the hands of mantua-makers, milliners +and hairdressers since then. She had laid aside every article brought +from home. She wore her hair in puffs and waterfalls, and her dresses +in the latest mode. She had seen the fashionable world as represented +at Saratoga, and, sickening at the sight, had gladly acquiesced in her +aunt's proposal to go on to Newport, where the air was purer and the +hotels not so densely packed. She had been called a beauty and a +belle, but her heart was longing for the leafy woods and fresh green +fields of Hanover; and Newport, she fancied, would be more like the +country than sultry, crowded Saratoga, and never since leaving home +had she looked so bright and pretty as the evening after her arrival +at the Ocean House, when invigorated by the bath she had taken in the +morning, and gladdened by sight of the glorious sea and the soothing +tones it murmured in her ear, she came down to the parlor clad in +simple white, with only a bunch of violets in her hair, and no other +ornament than the handsome pearls her aunt had given to her. Standing +at the open window, with the drapery of the lace curtain sweeping +gracefully behind her, she did not look much like the Anna who led the +choir in Hanover and visited the Widow Hobbs, nor yet much like the +picture which Thornton Hastings had formed of the girl who he knew was +there for his inspection. He had been absent the entire day, and had +not seen Mrs. Meredith, when she arrived early in the morning, but he +found her card in his room, and a strange smile curled his lip as he +said:</p> + +<p>"And so I have not escaped her."</p> + +<p>Thornton Hastings had proved a most treacherous knight and overthrown +his general's plans entirely. Arthur's letter had affected him +strangely, for he readily guessed how deeply wounded his sensitive +friend had been by Anna Ruthven's refusal, while added to this was a +fear lest Anna had been influenced by a thought of him and what might +possibly result from an acquaintance. Thornton Hastings had been +flattered and angled for until he had grown somewhat vain, and it did +not strike him as at all improbable that the unsophisticated Anna +should have designs upon him.</p> + +<p>"But I won't give her a chance," he said, when he finished Arthur's +letter. "I thought once I might like her, but I shan't, and I'll be +revenged on her for refusing the best man that ever breathed. I'll go +to Newport instead of Saratoga, and so be clear of the entire Meredith +clique, the Hethertons, the little Harcourt, and all."</p> + +<p>This, then, was the secret of his being there at the Ocean House. He +was keeping away from Anna Ruthven, who never had heard of him but +once, and that from Lucy Harcourt. After that scene in the Glen, where +Anna had exclaimed against intriguing mothers and their bold, +shameless daughters, Mrs. Meredith had been too wise a maneuverer to +mention Thornton Hastings, so that Anna was wholly ignorant of his +presence at Newport, and looked up in unfeigned surprise at the tall, +elegant man whom her aunt presented as Mr. Hastings. With all +Thornton's affected indifference, there was still a curiosity to see +the girl who could say "no" to Arthur Leighton, and he had not waited +long after receiving Mrs. Meredith's card before going down to find +her.</p> + +<p>"That's the girl, I'll lay a wager," he thought of a high-colored, +showily-dressed hoyden, who was whirling around the room with Ned +Peters, from Boston, and whose corn-colored dress swept against his +boots as he entered the parlor.</p> + +<p>How, then, was he disappointed in the apparition Mrs. Meredith +presented as "my niece," the modest, self-possessed young girl, whose +cheeks grew not a whit redder, and whose pulse did not quicken at the +sight of him, though a gleam of something like curiosity shone in the +brown eyes which scanned him so quietly. She was thinking of Lucy, and +her injunction "not to speak to the hateful if she saw him;" but she +did speak to him, and Mrs. Meredith fanned herself complacently as she +saw how fast they became acquainted.</p> + +<p>"You do not dance," Mr. Hastings said, as she declined an invitation +from Ned Peters, whom she had met at Saratoga. "I am glad, for now you +will, perhaps, walk with me outside upon the piazza. You won't take +cold, I think," and he glanced thoughtfully at the white neck and +shoulders gleaming beneath the gauzy muslin.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Meredith was in rhapsodies and sat a full hour with the tiresome +dowagers around her, while up and down the broad piazza Thornton +Hastings walked with Anna, talking to her as he seldom talked to +women, and feeling greatly surprised to find that what he said was +fully appreciated and understood. That he was pleased with her he +could not deny himself, as he sat alone in his room that night, +feeling more and more how keenly Arthur Leighton must have felt at her +refusal.</p> + +<p>"But why did she refuse him?" he wished he knew, and ere he slept he +had resolved to study Anna Ruthven closely, and ascertain, if +possible, the motive which prompted her to discard a man like Arthur +Leighton.</p> + +<p>The next day brought the Hetherton party, all but Lucy Harcourt, who, +Fanny laughingly said, was just now suffering from clergyman on the +brain, and, as a certain cure for the disease, had turned my Lady +Bountiful, and was playing the pretty patroness to all Mr. Leighton's +parishioners, especially a Widow Hobbs, whom she had actually taken to +ride in the carriage, and to whose ragged children she had sent a +bundle of cast-off party dresses; and the tears ran down Fanny's +cheeks as she described the appearance of the elder Hobbs, who came to +church with a soiled pink silk skirt, her black, tattered petticoat +hanging down below and one of Lucy's opera hoods upon her head.</p> + +<p>"And the clergyman on the brain? Does he appreciate the situation? I +have an interest there. He is an old friend of mine," Thornton +Hastings asked.</p> + +<p>He had been an amused listener to Fanny's gay badinage, laughing +merrily at the idea of Lucy's taking old women out to air and clothing +her children in party dresses. His opinion of Lucy, as she had said, +was that she was a pretty, but frivolous, plaything, and it showed +upon his face as he asked the question he did, watching Anna furtively +as Fanny replied:</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, he is certainly smitten, and I must say I never saw Lucy so +thoroughly in earnest. Why, she really seems to enjoy traveling all +over Christendom to find the hovels and huts, though she is mortally +afraid of the smallpox, and always carries with her a bit of chloride +of lime as a disinfecting agent. I am sure she ought to win the +parson. And so you know him, do you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; we were in college together, and I esteem him so highly that, +had I a sister, there is no man living to whom I would so readily give +her as to him."</p> + +<p>He was looking now at Anna, whose face was very pale, and who pressed +a rose she held so tightly that the sharp thorns pierced her flesh, +and a drop of blood stained the whiteness of her hand.</p> + +<p>"See, you have hurt yourself," Mr. Hastings said. "Come to the water +pitcher and wash the stain away."</p> + +<p>She went with him mechanically, and let him hold her hand in his +while he wiped off the blood with his own handkerchief, treating her +with a tenderness for which he could hardly account himself. He pitied +her, he said, suspecting that she had repented of her rashness, and +because he pitied her he asked her to ride with him that day after the +fast bays, of which he had written to Arthur. Many admiring eyes were +cast after them as they drove away, and Mrs. Hetherton whispered +softly to Mrs. Meredith:</p> + +<p>"A match in progress, I see. You have done well for your charming +niece."</p> + +<p>And yet matrimony, as concerned himself, was very far from Thornton +Hastings' thoughts that afternoon, when, because he saw that it +pleased Anna to have him do so, he talked to her of Arthur, hoping in +his unselfish heart that what he said in his praise might influence +her to reconsider her decision and give him a different answer. This +was the second day of Thornton Hastings' acquaintance with Anna +Ruthven, but as the days went on, bringing the usual routine of life +at Newport, the drives, the rides, the pleasant piazza talks, and the +quiet moonlight rambles, when Anna was always his companion, Thornton +Hastings came to feel an unwillingness to surrender, even to Arthur +Leighton, the beautiful girl who pleased him better than any one he +had known.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Meredith's plans were working well, and so, though the autumn +days had come, and one after another the devotees of fashion were +dropping off, she lingered on, and Thornton Hastings still rode and +walked with Anna Ruthven, until there came a night when they wandered +farther than usual from the hotel, and sat down together on a height +of land which overlooked the placid waters, where the moonlight lay +softly sleeping. It was a most lovely night, and for a while they +listened in silence to the music of the sea, then talked of the +breaking up which came in a few days when the hotel was to be closed, +and wondered if next year they would come again to the old haunts and +find them unchanged.</p> + +<p>There was witchery in the hour, and Thornton felt its spell, speaking +out at last, and asking Anna if she would be his wife. He would shield +her so tenderly, he said, protecting her from every care, and making +her as happy as love and money could make her. Then he told her of his +home in the far-off city, which needed only her presence to make it a +paradise, and then he waited for her answer, watching anxiously the +limp white hands, which, when he first began to talk, had fallen so +helplessly upon her lap, and then had crept up to her face, which was +turned away from him, so that he could not see its expression, or +guess at the struggle going on in Anna's mind. She was not wholly +surprised, for she could not mistake the nature of the interest which, +for the last two weeks, Thornton Hastings had manifested in her. But, +now that the moment had come, it seemed to her that she never had +expected it, and she sat silent for a time, dreading so much to speak +the words which she knew would inflict pain on one whom she respected +so highly but whom she could not marry.</p> + +<p>"Don't you like me, Anna?" Thornton asked at last, his voice very low +and tender, as he bent over her and tried to take her hand.</p> + +<p>"Yes, very much," she answered, and, emboldened by her reply, Thornton +lifted up her head, and was about to kiss her forehead, when she +started away from him, exclaiming:</p> + +<p>"No, Mr. Hastings. You must not do that. I cannot be your wife. It +hurts me to tell you so, for I believe you are sincere in your +proposal; but it can never be. Forgive me, and let us both forget this +wretched summer."</p> + +<p>"It has not been wretched to me. It has been a very happy summer, +since I knew you, at least," Mr. Hastings said, and then he asked +again that she should reconsider her decision. He could not take it as +her final one. He had loved her too much, had thought too much of +making her his own to give her up so easily, he said, urging so many +reasons why she should think again, that Anna said to him, at last:</p> + +<p>"If you would rather have it so, I will wait a month, but you must +not hope that my answer will be different from what it is to-night. I +want your friendship, though, the same as if this had never happened. +I like you, Mr. Hastings, because you have been kind to me, and made +my stay in Newport so much pleasanter than I thought it could be. You +have not talked to me like other men. You have treated me as if I, at +least, had common sense. I thank you for that; and I like you +because——"</p> + +<p>She did not finish the sentence, for she could not say "because you +are Arthur's friend." That would have betrayed the miserable secret +tugging at her heart, and prompting her to refuse Thornton Hastings, +who had also thought of Arthur Leighton, wondering if it were thus +that she rejected him, and if in the background there was another love +standing between her and the two men to win whom many a woman would +almost have given her right hand. To say that Thornton was not a +little piqued at her refusal would be false. He had not expected it, +accustomed, as he was, to adulation; but he tried to put that feeling +down, and his manner was even more kind and considerate than ever as +he walked slowly back to the hotel, where Mrs. Meredith was waiting +for them, her practised eye detecting at once that something was +amiss. Thornton Hastings knew Mrs. Meredith thoroughly, and, wishing +to shield Anna from her displeasure, he preferred stating the facts +himself to having them wrung from the pale, agitated girl who, bidding +him good night, went quickly to her room; so, when she was gone, and +he stood for a moment alone with Mrs. Meredith, he said:</p> + +<p>"I have proposed to your niece, but she cannot answer me now. She +wishes for a month's probation, which I have granted, and I ask that +she shall not be persecuted about the matter. I wish for an unbiassed +answer."</p> + +<p>He bowed politely, and walked away, while Mrs. Meredith almost trod on +air as she climbed the three flights of stairs and sought her niece's +chamber. Over the interview which ensued that night we pass silently, +and come to the next morning, when Anna sat alone on the piazza at the +rear of the hotel, watching the playful gambols of some children on +the grass, and wondering if she ever could conscientiously say "yes" +to Thornton Hastings' suit. He was coming toward her now, lifting his +hat politely, and asking what she would give for news from home.</p> + +<p>"I found this on my table," he said, holding up a dainty little +missive, on the corner of which was written "In haste," as if its +contents were of the utmost importance. "The boy must have made a +mistake, or else he thought it well enough to begin at once bringing +your letters to me," he continued, with a smile, as he handed Anna the +letter from Lucy Harcourt. "I have one too, from Arthur which I will +read while you are devouring yours, and then, perhaps, you will take a +little ride. The September air is very bracing this morning," he said, +walking away to the far end of the piazza, while Anna broke the seal +of the envelope, hesitating a moment ere taking the letter from it, +and trembling as if she guessed what it might contain.</p> + +<p>There was a quivering of the eyelids, a paling of the lips as she +glanced at the first few lines, then with a low, moaning cry, "No, no, +oh, no, not that," she fell upon her face.</p> + +<p>To lift her in his arms and carry her to her room was the work of an +instant, and then, leaving her to Mrs. Meredith's care, Thornton +Hastings went back to finish Arthur's letter, which might or might not +throw light upon the fainting fit.</p> + +<p>"Dear Thornton," Arthur wrote, "you will be surprised, no doubt, to +hear that your old college chum is at last engaged—positively +engaged—but not to one of the fifty lambs about whom you once +jocosely wrote. The shepherd has wandered from his flock, and is about +to take into his bosom a little, stray ewe-lamb—Lucy Harcourt by +name—"</p> + +<p>"The deuce he is," was Thornton's ejaculation, and then he read on.</p> + +<p>"She is an acquaintance of yours, I believe, so I need not describe +her, except to say that she is somewhat changed from the gay butterfly +of fashion she used to be, and in time will make as demure a little +Quakeress as one could wish to see. She visits constantly among my +poor, who love her almost as well as they once loved Anna Ruthven.</p> + +<p>"Don't ask me, Thorne, in your blunt, straightforward manner if I +have so soon forgotten Anna. That is a matter with which you've +nothing to do. Let it suffice that I am engaged to another, and mean +to make a kind and faithful husband to her. Lucy would have suited you +better, perhaps, than she does me; that is, the world would think so, +but the world does not always know, and if I am satisfied, surely it +ought to be. Yours truly,</p> + +<p class="right">"<span class="smcap">A. Leighton</span>."</p> + +<p>"Engaged to Lucy Harcourt? I never could have believed it. He's right +in saying that she is far more suitable for me than him." Thornton +exclaimed, dashing aside the letter and feeling conscious of a pang as +he remembered the bright, airy little beauty in whom he had once been +strongly interested, even if he did call her frivolous and ridicule +her childish ways.</p> + +<p>She was frivolous, too much so, by far, to be a clergyman's wife, and +for a full half hour Thornton paced up and down the room, meditating +on Arthur's choice and wondering how upon earth it ever happened.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII.</h3> + +<h4>HOW IT HAPPENED.</h4> + + +<p>Lucy had insisted that she did not care to go to Saratoga. She +preferred remaining in Hanover, where it was cool and quiet, and where +she would not have to dress three times a day and dance every night +till twelve. She was beginning to find that there was something to +live for besides consulting one's own pleasure, and she meant to do +good the rest of her life, she said, assuming such a sober nun-like +air, that no one who saw her could fail to laugh, it was so at +variance with her entire nature.</p> + +<p>But Lucy was in earnest; Hanover had a greater attraction for her +than all the watering-places in the world, and she meant to stay +there, feeling very grateful when Fanny threw her influence on her +side, and so turned the scale in her favor. Fanny was glad to leave +her dangerous cousin at home, especially after Dr. Bellamy decided to +join their party at Saratoga, and, as she carried great weight with +both her parents, it was finally decided to let Lucy remain at +Prospect Hill in peace, and so one morning in July she saw the family +depart to their summer gayeties without a single feeling of regret +that she was not of their number. She had too much on her hands to +spend her time in regretting anything. There was the parish school to +visit, and a class of children to hear—children who were no longer +ragged, for Lucy's money had been poured out like water, till even +Arthur had remonstrated with her and read her a long lecture on the +subject of misplaced charity. Then, there was Widow Hobbs, waiting for +the jelly Lucy had promised, and for the chapter which Lucy read to +her, sitting where she could watch the road and see just who turned +the corner, her voice always sounding a little more serious and good +when the footsteps belonged to Arthur Leighton, and her eyes, always +glancing at the bit of cracked mirror on the wall, to see that her +dress and hair and ribbons were right before Arthur came in.</p> + +<p>It was a very pretty sight to see her there and hear her as she read +to the poor woman, whose surroundings she had so greatly improved, and +Arthur always smiled gratefully upon her, and then walked back with +her to Prospect Hill, where he sometimes lingered while she played or +talked to him, or brought the luscious fruits with which the garden +abounded.</p> + +<p>This was Lucy's life, the one she preferred to Saratoga, and they +left her to enjoy it, somewhat to Arthur's discomfiture, for much as +he valued her society, he would a little rather she had gone when the +Hethertons went, for he could not be insensible to the remarks which +were being made by the curious villagers, who watched this new +flirtation, as they called it, and wondered if their minister had +forgotten Anna Ruthven. He had not forgotten Anna, and many a time was +her loved name upon his lips and a thought of her in his heart, while +he never returned from an interview with Lucy that he did not contrast +the two and sigh for the olden time, when Anna was his co-worker +instead of pretty Lucy Harcourt. And yet there was about the latter a +powerful fascination, which he found it hard to resist. It rested him +just to look at her, she was so fresh, so bright, so beautiful, and +then she flattered his self-love by the unbounded deference she paid +to his opinions, studying all his tastes and bringing her own will +into perfect subjection to his, until she scarcely could be said to +have a thought or feeling which was not a reflection of his own. And +so the flirtation, which at first had been a one-sided affair, began +to assume a more serious form; the rector went oftener to Prospect +Hill, while the carriage from Prospect Hill stood daily at the gate of +the rectory, and people said it was a settled thing, or ought to be, +gossiping about it until old Captain Humphreys, Anna's grandfather, +conceived it his duty as senior warden of St. Mark's, to talk with the +young rector and know "what his intentions were."</p> + +<p>"You have none?" he said, fixing his mild eyes reproachfully upon his +clergyman, who winced a little beneath the gaze. "Then if you have no +intentions, my advice to you is, that you quit it and let the gal +alone, or you'll ruin her, if she ain't sp'ilt already, as some of the +women folks say she is. It don't do no gal any good to have a chap, +and specially a minister, gallyvantin' after her, as I must say you've +been after this one for the last few weeks. She's a pretty little +creature, and I don't blame you for liking her. It makes my old blood +stir faster when she comes purring around me with her soft ways and +winsome face, and so I don't wonder at you; but when you say you've no +intentions, I blame you greatly. You orter have—excuse my plainness. +I'm an old man who likes my minister, and don't want him to go wrong, +and then I feel for her, left alone by all her folks—more's the shame +to them, and more's the harm for you to tangle up her affections, as +you are doing, if you are not in earnest; and I speak for her just as +I should want some one to speak for Anna."</p> + +<p>The old man's voice trembled a little here, for it had been a wish of +his that Anna should occupy the rectory, and he had at first felt a +little resentment against the gay young creature who seemed to have +supplanted her; but he was over that now, and in all honesty of heart +he spoke both for Lucy's interest and that of his clergyman. And +Arthur listened to him respectfully, feeling, when he was gone, that +he merited the rebuke, that he had not been guiltless in the matter, +that if he did not mean to marry Lucy Harcourt he must let her alone.</p> + +<p>And he would, he said; he would not go to Prospect Hill again for two +whole weeks, nor visit at the cottages where he was sure to find her. +He would keep himself at home; and he did, shutting himself up among +his books, and not even making a pastoral call on Lucy when he heard +that she was sick. And so Lucy came to him, looking dangerously +charming in her green riding-habit—with the scarlet feather sweeping +from her hat. Very prettily she pouted, too, chiding him for his +neglect, and asking why he had not been to see her, nor anybody. There +was the Widow Hobbs, and Mrs. Briggs and those miserable Donelsons—he +had not been near them for a fortnight. What was the reason? she +asked, beating her foot upon the carpet, and tapping the end of her +riding whip upon the sermon he was writing.</p> + +<p>"Are you displeased with me, Arthur?" she continued, her eyes filling +with tears as she saw the grave expression on his face. "Have I done +anything wrong? I am so sorry if I have."</p> + +<p>Her voice had in it the grieved tones of a little child, and her eyes +were very bright, with the tears, quivering on her long silken lashes. +Leaning back in his chair, with his hands clasped behind his head, a +position he always assumed when puzzled and perplexed, the rector +looked at her a moment before he spoke. He could not define to himself +the nature of the interest he took in Lucy Harcourt. He admired her +greatly, and the self-denials and generous exertions she had made to +be of use to him since Anna went away had touched a tender chord and +made her seem very near to him.</p> + +<p>Habit with him was everything, and the past two weeks' isolation had +shown him how necessary she had become to him. She did not satisfy his +higher wants as Anna Ruthven had done. No one could ever do that, but +she amused, and soothed, and rested him, and made his duties lighter +by taking half of them upon herself. That she was more attached to him +than he could wish, he greatly feared, for, since Captain Humphreys' +visit, he had seen matters differently from what he saw them before, +and had unsparingly questioned himself as to how far he would be +answerable for her future weal or woe.</p> + +<p>"Guilty, verily, I am guilty, in leading her on, if I meant nothing by +it," he had written against himself, pausing in his sermon to write it +just as Lucy came in, appealing so prettily to him to know why he had +neglected her so long. She was very beautiful this morning, and Arthur +felt his heart beat rapidly as he looked at her, and thought most any +man who had never known Anna Ruthven would be glad to gather that +bright creature in his own arms and know she was his own. One long, +long sigh to the memory of all he had hoped for once—one bitter pang +as he remembered Anna and that twilight hour in the church and then he +made a mad plunge in the dark and said:</p> + +<p>"Lucy, do you know people are beginning to talk about my seeing you so +much?"</p> + +<p>"Well, let them talk. Who cares?" Lucy replied, with a good deal of +asperity of manner for her, for that very morning the old housekeeper +at Prospect Hill had ventured to remonstrate with her for "running +after the parson." "Pray, where is the wrong? What harm can come of +it?" and she tossed her head pettishly.</p> + +<p>"None, perhaps," Arthur replied, "if one could keep his affections +under control. But if either of us should learn to love the other very +much, and the love was not reciprocated, harm would surely come of +that. At least, that was the view Captain Humphreys took of the matter +when he was speaking to me about it."</p> + +<p>There were red spots on Lucy's face, but her lips were very white, and +the buttons on her riding dress rose and fell rapidly with the beating +of her heart as she looked steadily at Arthur. Was he going to send +her from him, send her back to the insipid life she had lived before +she knew him? It was too terrible to believe, and the great tears +rolled slowly down her cheeks. Then, as a flash of pride came to her +aid, she dashed them away, and said haughtily:</p> + +<p>"And so, for fear I shall fall in love with you, and be ruined, +perhaps, you are sacrificing both comfort and freedom, shutting +yourself up here among your books and studies to the neglect of other +duties? But it need be so no longer. The necessity for it, if it +existed once, certainly does not now. I will not be in your way. +Forgive me that I ever have been."</p> + +<p>Lucy's voice began to tremble as she gathered up her riding-habit and +turned to find her gauntlets. One of them had dropped upon the floor, +between the table and the rector, and as she stooped to reach it her +curls almost swept the young man's lap.</p> + +<p>"Let me get it for you," he said, hastily pushing back his chair, and +awkwardly entangling his foot in her dress, so that when she rose she +stumbled backward, and would have fallen but for the arm he quickly +passed around her.</p> + +<p>Something in the touch of that quivering form completed the work of +temptation, and he held it for an instant while she said to him:</p> + +<p>"Please, let me go, sir!"</p> + +<p>"No, Lucy, I can't let you go; I want you to stay with me."</p> + +<p>Instantly the drooping head was uplifted, and Lucy's eyes looked into +his with such a wistful, pleading, wondering look, that Arthur saw, or +thought he saw, his duty plain, and, gently touching his lips to the +brow glistening so white within their reach, he continued:</p> + +<p>"There is a way to stop the gossip and make it right for me to see +you. Promise to be my wife, and not even Captain Humphreys will say +aught against it."</p> + +<p>Arthur's voice trembled a little now, for the mention of Captain +Humphreys had brought a thought of Anna, whose brown eyes seemed for +an instant to look reproachfully upon that wooing. But Arthur had gone +too far to retract—he had committed himself, and now he had only to +wait for Lucy's answer.</p> + +<p>There was no deception about her. Hers was a nature as clear as +crystal, and, with a gush of glad tears, she promised to be the +rector's wife, hiding her face in his bosom, and telling him brokenly +how unworthy she was, how foolish and how unsuited to the place, but +promising to do the best she could do not to bring him into disgrace +on account of her shortcomings.</p> + +<p>"With the acknowledgment that you love me, I can do anything," she +said, and her white hand crept slowly into the cold, clammy one which +lay so listlessly in Arthur's lap.</p> + +<p>He was already repenting, for he felt that it was sin to take that +warm, trusting, loving heart in exchange for the half-lifeless one he +should render in return, the heart where scarcely a pulse of joy was +beating, even though he held his promised wife, and she as fair and +beautiful as ever promised wife could be.</p> + +<p>"I can make her happy, and I will," he thought, pressing the warm +fingers which quivered to his touch.</p> + +<p>But he did not kiss her again. He could not, for the brown eyes which +still seemed looking at him as if asking what he did. There was a +strange spell about those phantom eyes, and they made him say to Lucy, +who was now sitting demurely at his side:</p> + +<p>"I could not clear my conscience if I did not confess that you are not +the first woman whom I have asked to be my wife."</p> + +<p>There was a sudden start, and Lucy's face was as pale as ashes, while +her hand went quickly to her side, where the heart beats were so +visible, warning Arthur to be careful how he startled her, so when she +asked:</p> + +<p>"Who was it, and why did you not marry her? Did you love her very +much?" he answered indifferently:</p> + +<p>"I would rather not tell you who it was, as that might be a breach of +confidence. She did not care to be my wife, and so that dream was over +and I was left for you."</p> + +<p>He did not say how much he loved her, but Lucy forgot the omission and +asked:</p> + +<p>"Was she young and pretty?"</p> + +<p>"Young and pretty both, but not as beautiful as you," Arthur replied, +his fingers softly parting back the golden curls from the face looking +so trustingly into his.</p> + +<p>And in that he answered truly. He had seen no face as beautiful of +its kind as Lucy's was, and he was glad that he could tell her so. He +knew how it would please her, and partly make amends for the tender +words which he could not speak for the phantom eyes haunting him so +strangely. And Lucy, who took all things for granted, was more than +content, only she wondered that he did not kiss her again, and wished +she knew the girl who had come so near being in her place. But she +respected his wishes too much to ask, after what he had said, and she +tried to make herself glad that he had been so frank with her, and not +left his other love affair to the chance of her discovering it +afterwards at a time when it might be painful to her.</p> + +<p>"I wish I had something to confess," she thought, but from the scores +of her flirtations, and even offers, for she had not lacked for them, +she could not find one where her own feelings had been enlisted in +ever so slight a degree, until she remembered Thornton Hastings, who +for one whole week had paid her much attentions as made her drive +round on purpose to look at the house on Madison Square where the +future Mrs. Hastings was to live. But his coolness afterwards, and his +comments on her frivolity had terribly angered her, making her think +she hated him, as she had said to Anna. Now, however, as she +remembered the drive and the house, she nestled closer to Arthur, and +told him all about it, fingering the buttons on his dressing-gown as +she told it, and never dreaming of the pang she was inflicting as +Arthur thought how mysterious were God's ways, and wondered that he +had not reversed the matter, and given Lucy to Thornton Hastings +rather than to him, who did not half deserve her.</p> + +<p>"I know now I never cared a bit for Thornton Hastings, though I might +if he had not been so mean as to call me frivolous," Lucy said, as she +arose to go; then suddenly turning to the rector, she added: "I shall +never ask you who your first love was, but I would like to know if you +have quite forgotten her."</p> + +<p>"Have you forgotten Thornton Hastings?" Arthur asked, laughingly, and +Lucy replied, "Of course not; one never forgets, but I don't care a +pin for him now, and, did I tell you Fanny writes that rumor says he +will marry Anna Ruthven?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, no, I did not know—I am not surprised," and Arthur stooped to +pick up a book lying on the floor, thus hiding his face from Lucy, +who, woman-like, was glad to report a piece of gossip, and continued: +"She is a great belle, Fanny says—dressed beautifully and in perfect +taste, besides talking as if she knew something, and this pleases Mr. +Hastings, who takes her out to ride and drive, and all this after I +warned her against him, and told her just what he said of me. I am +surprised at her."</p> + +<p>Lucy was drawing on her gauntlets, and Arthur was waiting to see her +out, but she still lingered on the threshold, and at last said to him, +"I wonder you never fell in love with Anna yourself. I am sure if I +were you I should prefer her to me. She knows something and I do not, +but I am going to study. There are piles of books in the library at +Prospect Hill, and you shall see what a famous student I will become. +If I get puzzled, will you help me?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, willingly," Arthur replied, wishing that she would go before +she indulged in any more speculations as to why he did not love Anna +Ruthven.</p> + +<p>But Lucy was not done yet, and Arthur felt as if the earth were giving +way beneath his feet when, as he lifted her into the saddle and took +her hand at parting, she said, "Now, remember, I am not going to be +jealous of that other love. There is only one person who could make me +so, and that is Anna Ruthven; but I know it was not she, for that +night we all came from Mrs. Hobbs' and she went with me up-stairs, I +asked her honestly if you had ever offered yourself to her, and she +told me you had not. I think you showed a lack of taste, but I am glad +it was not Anna."</p> + +<p>Lucy was far down the road ere Arthur recovered from the shock her +last words had given him. What did it mean, and why had Anna said he +never proposed? Was there some mistake, and he the victim of it? There +was a blinding mist before the young man's eyes as he returned to his +study, and went over again, with all the incidents of Anna's refusal, +even to the reading of the letter which he already knew by heart. +Then, as the thought came over him that possibly Mrs. Meredith played +him false in some way, he groaned aloud, and the great sweat drops +fell upon the table where he leaned his head. But this could not be, +he reasoned. Lucy was mistaken. She had not heard aright. Somebody, +surely, was mistaken, or he had committed a fatal error.</p> + +<p>"But I must abide by it," he said, lifting up his pallid face. "God +forbid the wrong I have done in asking Lucy to be my wife when my +heart belonged to Anna. God help me to forget the one and love the +other as I ought. She is a lovely little girl, trusting me so wholly +that I can make her happy, and I will; but Anna! oh, Anna!"</p> + +<p>It was a despairing cry, such as a newly-engaged man should never have +sent after another than his affianced bride. Arthur thought so, too, +fighting back his first love with an iron will, and, after that first +hour of anguish, burying it so far from sight that he went that night +to Captain Humphreys and told of his engagement; then called upon his +bride-elect, trying so hard to be satisfied that, when, at a late +hour, he returned to the rectory, he was more than content; and, by +way of fortifying himself still further, wrote the letter which +Thornton Hastings read at Newport.</p> + +<p>And that was how it happened.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX.</h3> + +<h4>ANNA.</h4> + + +<p>Through the rich curtains which shaded the windows of a room looking +out on Fifth Avenue, the late October sun was shining, and as its red +light played among the flowers on the carpet a pale young girl sat +watching it, and thinking of the Hanover hills, now decked in their +autumnal glory, and of the ivy on St. Mark's, growing so bright and +beautiful beneath the autumnal frosts. Anna had been very sick since +that morning in September when she sat on the piazza at the Ocean +House and read Lucy Harcourt's letter. The faint was a precursor of +fever, the physician said, when summoned to her aid, and in a tremor +of fear and distress Mrs. Meredith had had her at once removed to New +York, and that was the last Anna remembered.</p> + +<p>From the moment her aching head had touched the soft pillows in Aunt +Meredith's house all consciousness had fled, and for weeks she had +hovered so near to death that the telegraph wires bore daily messages +to Hanover, where the aged couple who had cared for her since her +childhood wept, and prayed, and watched for tidings from their +darling. They could not go to her, for Grandpa Humphreys had broken +his leg, and his wife could not leave him, so they waited with what +patience they could for the daily bulletins which Mrs. Meredith sent, +appreciating their anxiety, and feeling glad withal of anything which +kept them from New York.</p> + +<p>"She had best be prayed for in church," the old man had said, and so +Sunday after Sunday Arthur read the prayer for the sick, his voice +trembling as it had never trembled before, and a keener sorrow in his +heart than he had ever known when saying the solemn words. Heretofore +the persons prayed for had been comparative strangers, people in whom +he felt only the interest a pastor feels in all his flock, but now it +was Anna, whose case he took to God, and he always smothered a sob +during the moment he waited for the fervent response the congregation +made, the "Amen" which came from the pew where Lucy sat sounding +louder and heartier than all the rest, and having in it a sound of the +tears which fell so fast on Lucy's book as she asked that Anna might +not die. Oh, how he longed to go to her, but this he could not do, and +so he had sent Lucy, who bent so tenderly above the sick girl, +whispering loving words in her ear, and dropping kisses upon the lips +which uttered no response, save once, when Lucy said:</p> + +<p>"Do you remember Arthur?"</p> + +<p>Then they murmured faintly:</p> + +<p>"Yes; Arthur, I remember him, and the Christmas song, and the +gathering in the church; but that was long ago. There's much happened +since then."</p> + +<p>"And I am to marry Arthur," Lucy had said again, but this time there +was no sign that she was understood, and that afternoon she went back +to Hanover loaded with testaments for the children of St. Mark's, and +new books for the Sunday-school, and, accompanied by Valencia, who, +having had a serious difference with her mistress, Mrs. Meredith, +offered her services to Lucy, and was at once accepted.</p> + +<p>That was near the middle of October; now it was towards the last, and +Anna was so much better that she sat up for an hour or more, and +listened with some degree of interest to what Mrs. Meredith told her +of the days when she lay so unconscious of all that was passing around +her, never even heeding the kindly voice of Thornton Hastings, who, +more than once, had stood by her pillow with his hand on her feverish +brow, and whose thoughtfulness was visible in the choice bouquets he +sent each day, with notes of anxious inquiry when he did not come +himself.</p> + +<p>Anna had not seen him yet since her convalescence. She would rather +not see any one until strong enough to talk, she said; and so Thornton +waited patiently for the interview she had promised him when she was +stronger, but every day he sent her fruit and flowers, and books of +prints which he thought would interest her, and which always made her +cheeks grow hot and her heart beat regretfully, for she thought of the +answer she must give him when he came, and she shrank from wounding +him.</p> + +<p>"He is too good, too noble to have an unwilling wife," she said, but +that did not make it the less hard to tell him so, and when at last +she was well enough to see him, she waited his coming nervously, +starting when she heard his step, and trembling like a leaf as he drew +near her chair. It was a very thin, wasted hand which he took in his, +holding it for a moment between his own, and then laying it gently +back upon her lap.</p> + +<p>He had come for the answer to a question put six weeks before, and +Anna gave it to him.</p> + +<p>Kindly, considerately, but decidedly, she told him she could not be +his wife, simply because she did not love him as he ought to be loved.</p> + +<p>"It is nothing personal," she said, working nervously at the heavy +fringe of her shawl. "I respect you more than any man I ever knew, but +one, and had I met you years ago before—before——"</p> + +<p>"I understand you," Thornton said, coming to her aid. "You have tried +to love me, but cannot, because your affections are given to another."</p> + +<p>Anna bowed her head in silence. Then after a moment she continued:</p> + +<p>"You must forgive me, Mr. Hastings, for not telling you this at once. +I did not know then but I could love you—at least I meant to try, for +you see, this other one——"</p> + +<p>The fingers got terribly tangled in the fringe as Anna gasped for +breath, and went on:</p> + +<p>"He does not know, and never will; that is, he never cared for me, nor +guessed how foolish I was to give him my love unsought."</p> + +<p>"Then it is not Arthur Leighton, and that is the reason you refused +him, too?" Mr. Hastings said, involuntarily, and Anna looked quickly +up, her cheeks growing paler than they were before, as she replied:</p> + +<p>"I don't know what you mean. I never refused Mr. Leighton—never."</p> + +<p>"You never refused Mr. Leighton?" Thornton exclaimed, forgetting all +discretion in his surprise at this flat contradiction. "I have +Arthur's word for it, written to me last June, while Mrs. Meredith was +there, I think."</p> + +<p>"He surely could not have meant it, because it never occurred. Once, I +was foolish enough to think he was going to, but he did not. There is +some great mistake," Anna found strength to say, and then she lay back +in her easy-chair panting for breath, her brain all in a whirl as she +thought of the possibility that she was once so near the greatest +happiness she had ever desired, and which was now lost to her forever.</p> + +<p>He brought her smelling salts, he gave her ice-water to drink, and +then, kneeling beside her, he fanned her gently, while he said: "There +surely is a mistake, and, I fear, a great wrong, too, somewhere. Were +all your servants trusty? Was there no one who would withhold a letter +if he had written? Were you always at home when he called?" Thornton +questioned her rapidly, for there was a suspicion in his mind as to +the real culprit; but he would not hint it to Anna unless she +suggested it herself. And this she was not likely to do. Mrs. Meredith +had been too kind to her during the past summer, and especially during +her illness, to allow of such a thought concerning her, and, in a maze +of perplexity, she replied to his inquiries: "We keep but one servant, +Esther, and she, I know, is trusty. Besides, who could have refused +him for me? Grandfather would not, I know, because—because——"</p> + +<p>She hesitated a little and her cheeks blushed scarlet, as she added: +"I sometimes thought he wished it to be."</p> + +<p>If Thornton had previously a doubt as to the other man who stood +between himself and Anna, that doubt was now removed, and laying aside +all thoughts of self, he exclaimed: "I tell you there is a great wrong +somewhere. Arthur never told an untruth; he thought that you refused +him; he thinks so still, and I shall never rest till I have solved the +mystery. I will write to him to-day."</p> + +<p>For an instant there swept over Anna a feeling of unutterable joy as +she thought of what the end might be; then, as she remembered Lucy, +her heart seemed to stop its beating, and, with a moan, she stretched +her hand toward Thornton, who had risen as if to leave her.</p> + +<p>"No, no; you must not interfere," she said. "It is too late, too late. +Don't you remember Lucy? Don't you know she is to be his wife? Lucy +must not be sacrificed for me. I can bear it the best."</p> + +<p>She knew she had betrayed her secret and she tried to take it back, +but Thornton interrupted her with, "Never mind now, Anna; I guessed it +all before, and it hurts my pride less to know that it is Arthur whom +you prefer to me; I do not blame you for it."</p> + +<p>He smoothed her hair pityingly, while he stood over her for a moment, +wondering what his duty was. Anna had told him plainly what it was. He +must leave Arthur and Lucy alone. She insisted upon having it so, and +he promised her at least that he would not interfere; then, taking her +hand, he pressed it a moment between his own and went out from her +presence. In the hall below he met with Mrs. Meredith, who he knew was +waiting anxiously to hear the result of that long interview.</p> + +<p>"Your niece will never be my wife, and I am satisfied to have it so," +he said; then, as he saw the lowering of her brow, he continued: "I +have long suspected that she loved another, and my suspicions are +confirmed, though there's something I cannot understand," and fixing +his eyes searchingly upon Mrs. Meredith, he told her what Arthur had +written and of Anna's denial of the same. "Somebody played her false," +he said, rather enjoying the look of terror and shame which crept into +the haughty woman's eyes, as she tried to appear natural and express +her own surprise at what she heard.</p> + +<p>"I was right in my conjecture," Thornton thought, as he took his +leave of Mrs. Meredith who could not face Anna then, but paced +restlessly up and down her spacious rooms, wondering how much Thornton +had suspected and what the end would be.</p> + +<p>She had sinned for naught. Anna had upset all her cherished plans, +and, could she have gone back for a few months and done her work +again, she would have left the letter lying where she found it. But +that could not be now. She must reap as she had sown, and resolving +finally to hope for the best and abide the result, she went up to +Anna, who having no suspicion of her, hurt her ten times more cruelly +by the perfect faith with which she confided the story to her than +bitter reproaches would have done.</p> + +<p>"I know you wanted me to marry Mr. Hastings," Anna said, "and I would +if I could have done so conscientiously, but I could not; for, I may +now confess it to you, I did love Arthur so much; and once I hoped +that he loved me."</p> + +<p>The cold hard woman, who had brought this grief upon her niece, could +only answer that it did not matter.</p> + +<p>She was not very sorry, although she had wished her to marry Mr. +Hastings, but she must not fret about that, or about anything. She +would be better by and by, and forget that she ever cared for Arthur +Leighton.</p> + +<p>"At least," and she spoke entreatingly now, "you will not demean +yourself to let him know of the mistake. It would scarcely be womanly, +and he may have gotten over it. Present circumstances would seem to +prove as much."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Meredith felt that her secret was comparatively safe, and, with +her spirits lightened, she kissed her niece lovingly and told her of a +trip to Europe which she had in view, promising that if she went Anna +should go with her and so not be at home when the marriage of Arthur +and Lucy took place.</p> + +<p>It was appointed for the 15th of January, that being the day when Lucy +came of age, and the very afternoon succeeding Anna's interview with +Mr. Hastings the little lady came down to New York to direct her +bridal trousseau making in the city.</p> + +<p>She was brimming over with happiness, and her face was a perfect gleam +of sunshine when she came next day to Anna's room, and, throwing off +her wrappings, plunged at once into the subject uppermost in her +thoughts, telling first how she and Arthur had quarreled.</p> + +<p>"Not quarreled as Uncle and Aunt Hetherton and lots of people do, but +differed so seriously that I cried, and had to give up, too," she +said. "I wanted you for bridesmaid, and, do you think, he objected! +Not objected to you, but to bridesmaids generally, and he carried his +point, so that unless Fanny is married at the same time, as, perhaps, +she will be, we are just to stand up stiff and straight alone, except +as you'll all be round me in the aisle. You'll be well by that time, +and I want you very near to me," Lucy said, squeezing fondly the icy +hand whose coldness made her start and exclaim:</p> + +<p>"Why, Anna, how cold you are, and how pale you are looking! You have +been so sick, and I am well. It don't seem quite right, does it? And +Arthur, too, is looking thin and worn—so thin that I have coaxed him +to raise whiskers to cover the hollows in his cheeks. He looks a heap +better now, though he was always handsome. I do so wonder that you two +never fell in love, and I tell him so most every time I see him."</p> + +<p>It was terrible to Anna to sit and hear all this, and the room grew +dark as she listened; but she forced back her pain, and, stroking the +curly head almost resting in her lap, said kindly:</p> + +<p>"You love him very much, don't you, darling; so much that it would be +hard to give him up?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; oh, yes. I could not give him up now, except to God. I trust I +could do that, though once I could not, I am sure," and, nestling +closer to Anna, Lucy whispered to her of the new-born hope that she +was better than she used to be, that daily interviews with Arthur had +not been without their effect, and now, she trusted, she tried to do +right, from a higher motive than just the pleasing of him.</p> + +<p>"God bless you, darling," was Anna's response, as she clasped the +hand of the young girl who was now far more worthy to be Arthur's wife +than once she had been.</p> + +<p>If Anna ever had a thought of telling Arthur, it would have been put +aside by that interview with Lucy. She could not harm that pure, +loving, trusting girl, and she sent her from her with a kiss and +blessing, praying silently that she might never know a shadow of the +pain which she was suffering.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X.</h3> + +<h4>MRS. MEREDITH HAS A CONSCIENCE.</h4> + + +<p>She had one, years before, but, since the summer day when she sent +from her the white-faced man whose heart she had broken, it had been +hardening over with a stony crust which nothing, it seemed, could +break. And yet there were times when she was softened and wished that +much which she had done might be blotted out from the great book in +which she believed.</p> + +<p>There was many a misdeed recorded there against her, she knew, and +occasionally there stole over her a strange disquietude as to how she +could confront them when they all came up against her.</p> + +<p>Usually, she could cast such thoughts aside by a drive down gay +Broadway, or, at most, a call at Stewart's; but the sight of Anna's +white face and the knowing what made it so white was a constant +reproach, and conscience gradually wakened from its torpor enough to +whisper of the only restitution in her power—that of confession to +Arthur.</p> + +<p>But from this she shrank nervously. She could not humble herself thus +to any one, and she would not either. Then came the fear lest by +another than herself her guilt should come to light. What if Thornton +Hastings should find her out? She was half afraid he suspected her +now, and that gave her the keenest pang of all, for she respected +Thornton highly, and it would cost her much to lose his good opinion.</p> + +<p>She had lost him for her niece, but she could not spare him from +herself, and so, in sad perplexity, which wore upon her visibly, the +autumn days went on until at last she sat one morning in her +dressing-room and read in a foreign paper:</p> + +<p>"Died, at Strasburgh, August 31st, Edward Coleman, aged 46."</p> + +<p>That was all; but the paper dropped from the trembling hands, and the +proud woman of the world bowed her head upon the cold marble of the +table and wept aloud. She was not Mrs. Meredith now. She was Julia +Ruthven again, and she stood with Edward Coleman out in the grassy +orchard, where the apple-blossoms were dropping from the trees and the +air was full of insects' hum and the song of matin birds. She was the +wealthy Mrs. Meredith now, and he was dead in Strasburgh. True to her +he had been to the last; for he had never married, and those who had +met him abroad had brought back the same report of "a white-haired +man, old before his time, with a tired, sad look upon his face." That +look she had written there, and she wept on as she recalled the past +and murmured softly:</p> + +<p>"Poor Edward! I loved you all the while, but I sold myself for gold, +and it turned your brown locks snowy-white, poor darling!" and her +hands moved up and down the folds of her cashmere robe, as if it were +the brown locks they were smoothing just as they used to do. Then came +a thought of Anna, whose face wore much the look which Edward's did +when he went slowly from the orchard and left her there alone, with +the apple-blossoms dropping on her head and the wild bees' hum in her +ear.</p> + +<p>"I can at least do right in that respect," she said; "I can undo the +past to some extent and lessen the load of sin rolling upon my +shoulders. I will write to Arthur Leighton. I surely need tell no one +else; not yet, at least, lest he has outlived his love for Anna. I can +trust to his discretion and to his honor, too. He will not betray me +unless it is necessary, and then only to Anna. Edward would bid me do +it if he could speak. He was somewhat like Arthur Leighton."</p> + +<p>And so, with the dead man in Strasburgh before her eyes, Mrs. +Meredith nerved herself to write to Arthur Leighton, confessing the +fraud imposed upon him, imploring his forgiveness and begging him to +spare her as much as possible.</p> + +<p>"I know from Anna's own lips how much she has always loved you," she +wrote in conclusion; "but she does not know of the stolen letter, and +I leave you to make such use of the knowledge as you shall think +proper."</p> + +<p>She did not put in a single plea for the poor, little Lucy, dancing +so gayly over the mine just ready to explode. She was purely selfish +still, with all her qualms of conscience, and thought only of Anna, +whom she would make happy at another's sacrifice. So she never hinted +that it was possible for Arthur to keep his word pledged to Lucy +Harcourt, and, as she finished her letter and placed it in an envelope +with the one which Arthur had sent to Anna, her thoughts leaped +forward to the wedding she would give her niece—a wedding not quite +like that she had designed for Mrs. Thornton Hastings, but a quiet, +elegant affair, just suited to a clergyman who was marrying a Ruthven.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI.</h3> + +<h4>THE LETTER RECEIVED.</h4> + + +<p>Arthur had been spending the evening at Prospect Hill. The Hethertons +had returned and would remain till after the fifteenth, and since they +had come the rector found it even pleasanter calling there than it had +been before, with only his bride-elect to entertain him. Sure of Dr. +Bellamy, Fanny had laid aside her sharpness, and was exceedingly witty +and brilliant, while, now that it was settled, the colonel was too +thoroughly a gentleman to be otherwise than gracious to his future +nephew; and Mrs. Hetherton was always polite and lady-like, so that +the rector looked forward with a good deal of interest to the evenings +he usually gave to Lucy, who, though satisfied to have him in her +sight, still preferred the olden time, when she had him all to herself +and was not disquieted with the fear that she did not know enough for +him, as she often was when she heard him talking with Fanny and her +uncle of things she did not understand.</p> + +<p>This evening, however, the family were away and she received him +alone, trying so hard to come up to his capacity, talking so +intelligibly of books she had been reading and looking so lovely in +her winter crimson dress, besides being so sweetly affectionate and +confiding, that for once since his engagement Arthur was more than +content, and returned her modest caresses with a warmth he had not +felt before. He did love her, he said to himself, or, at least, he was +learning to love her very much; and when at last he took his leave, +and she went with him to the door, there was an unwonted tenderness in +his manner as he pushed her gently back, for the first snow of the +season was falling and the large flakes dropped upon her golden hair, +from which he brushed them carefully away.</p> + +<p>"I cannot let my darling take cold," he said, and Lucy felt a strange +thrill of joy, for never before had he called her his darling, and +sometimes she had thought that the love she received was not as great +as the love she gave.</p> + +<p>But she did not think so now, and in an ecstasy of joy she stood in +the deep recess of the bay window, watching him as he went away +through the moonlight and the feathery cloud of snow, wondering why, +when she was so happy, there could cling to her a haunted presentiment +that she and Arthur would never meet again just as they had parted.</p> + +<p>Arthur, on the contrary, was troubled with no such presentiment. Of +Anna he hardly thought, or, if he did, the vision was obscured by the +fair picture he had seen standing in the door, with the snowflakes +resting in her hair like pearls in a golden coronet. And Arthur +thanked his God that he was beginning at last to feel right—that the +solemn vows that he was so soon to utter would be more than a mockery.</p> + +<p>It was Arthur's work to teach others how dark and mysterious are the +ways of Providence, but he had not himself half learned that lesson in +all its strange reality; but the lesson was coming on apace; each +stride of his swift-footed beast brought him nearer to the great shock +waiting for him upon the study table, where Thomas, his man, had put +it.</p> + +<p>He saw it the first thing on entering the room, but he did not take +it up until the snow was brushed from his garments and he had warmed +himself by the cheerful fire blazing on the hearth. Then, sitting in +his easy-chair, and moving the lamp nearer to him, he took Mrs. +Meredith's letter and broke the seal, starting as if a serpent had +stung him when, in the note inclosed, he recognized his own +handwriting, the same he had sent to Anna when his heart was so full +of hope as the brown stalks now beating against his windows with a +dismal sound were full of fragrant blossoms. Both had died since +then—the roses and his hopes—And Arthur almost wished that he, too, +were dead when he read Mrs. Meredith's letter and saw the gulf his +feet were treading. Like the waves of the sea, his love for Anna came +rolling back upon him, augmented and intensified by all that he had +suffered, and by the terrible conviction that it could not be, +although, alas! "it might have been."</p> + +<p>He repeated the words over and over again, as stupified with pain, he +sat gazing at vacancy, thinking how true was the couplet—</p> + +<table summary="center"> +<tr><td align="left">"Of all sad words of tongue and pen,<br /> +The saddest are these, it might have been."</td></tr> +</table> + +<p>He could not even pray at once, his brain was so confused, but when, +at last, the white, quivering lips could move, and the poor aching +heart could pray, he only whispered, "God help me to do right," and by +that prayer he knew that for a single instant there had crept across +his mind the possibility of sacrificing Lucy, who loved and trusted +him so much. But only for an instant. He could not cast her from him, +though to take her now, knowing what he did, were almost death itself.</p> + +<p>"But God can help me to bear it," he cried; then, falling upon his +knees, with his face bowed to the floor, the Rector of St. Mark's +prayed as he had never prayed before—first for himself, whose need +was greatest, and then for Lucy, that she might never know what making +her happy had cost him, and then for Anna, whose name he could not +speak. "That other one," he called her, and his heart kept swelling in +his throat and preventing his utterance, so that the words he would +say never reached his lips.</p> + +<p>But God heard them just the same, and knew his child was asking that +Anna might forget him, if to remember him was pain; that she might +learn to love another far worthier than he had ever been.</p> + +<p>He did not think of Mrs. Meredith; he had no feeling of resentment +then; he was too wholly crushed to care how his ruin had been brought +about, and, long after the wood fire on the hearth had turned to cold, +gray ashes, he knelt upon the floor and battled with his grief, and +when the morning broke it found him still in the cheerless room where +he had passed the entire night and from which he went forth +strengthened, as he hoped, to do what he believed to be his duty. This +was on Saturday, and on the Sunday following there was no service at +St. Mark's. The rector was sick, the sexton said; "hard sick, too, he +had heard," and the Hetherton carriage, with Lucy in it, drove swiftly +to the rectory, where the quiet and solitude awed and frightened Lucy +as she entered the house and asked the housekeeper how Mr. Leighton +was.</p> + +<p>"It is very sudden," she said. "He was perfectly well when he left me +on Friday night. Please tell him I am here."</p> + +<p>The housekeeper shook her head. Her master's orders were that no one +but the doctor should be admitted, she said, repeating what Arthur had +told her in anticipation of just such an infliction as this.</p> + +<p>But Lucy was not to be denied. Arthur was hers, his sickness was +hers, his suffering was hers, and see him she would.</p> + +<p>"He surely did not mean me when he asked that no one should be +admitted. Tell him it is I; it is Lucy," she said with an air of +authority, which, in one so small, so pretty and so child-like, only +amused Mrs. Brown, who departed with the message, while Lucy sat down +with her feet upon the stove and looked around the sitting-room, +thinking that it was smaller and poorer than the one at Prospect Hill, +and how she would remodel it when she was mistress there.</p> + +<p>"He says you can come," was the word Mrs. Brown brought back, and, +with a gleam of triumph in her eye and a toss of the head, which said, +"I told you so," Lucy went softly into the darkened room and shut the +door behind her.</p> + +<p>Arthur had half expected this and had nerved himself to meet it, but +the cold sweat stood on his face and his heart throbbed painfully as +Lucy bent over him and Lucy's tears fell on his face while she took +his feverish hands in hers and murmured softly, "Poor, dear Arthur, I +am so sorry for you, and if I could I'd bear the pain so willingly."</p> + +<p>He knew she would; she was just as loving and unselfish as that, and +he wound his arms around her and drew her down close to him while he +whispered, "My poor, little Lucy; I don't deserve this from you."</p> + +<p>She did not know what he meant, and she only answered him with +kisses, while her little hands moved caressingly across his forehead +just as they had done years ago in Rome, when she soothed the pain +away. There certainly was a mesmeric influence emanating from those +hands, and Arthur felt its power, growing very quiet and at last +falling away to sleep, while the soft passes went on, and Lucy held +her breath lest she would waken him.</p> + +<p>"She was a famous nurse," the physician said when he came, +constituting her his coadjutor and making her tread wild with joy and +importance when he gave his patient's medicine into her hands.</p> + +<p>"It was hardly proper for her niece to stay," Mrs. Hetherton +thought, but Lucy was one who could trample down proprieties, and it +was finally arranged that Fanny should stay with her. So, while Fanny +went to bed and slept, Lucy sat all night in the sick room with Mrs. +Brown, and when the next morning came she was looking very pale and +languid, but very beautiful withal. At least, such was the mental +compliment paid her by Thornton Hastings, who was passing through +Hanover and had stopped over one train to see his old college friend +and, perhaps, tell him what he began to feel it was his duty to tell +him in spite of his promise to Anna. She was nearly well now and had +driven with him twice to the park, but he could not be insensible to +what she suffered, or how she shrank from having the projected wedding +discussed, and, in his intense pity for her, he had half resolved to +break his word and tell Arthur what he knew. But he changed his mind +when he had been in Hanover a few hours and watched the little fairy +who, like some ministering angel, glided about the sick room, showing +herself every whit a woman, and making him repent that he had ever +called her frivolous or silly. She was not either, he said, and, with +a magnanimity for which he thought himself entitled to a good deal of +praise, he even felt that it was very possible for Arthur to love the +gentle little girl who smoothed his pillows so tenderly and whose +fingers threaded so lovingly the damp, brown locks when she thought +he, Thornton, was not looking on. She was very coy of him and very +distant towards him, too, for she had not forgotten his sin, and she +treated him at first with a reserve for which he could not account. +But, as the days went on, and Arthur grew so sick that his +parishioners began to tremble for their young minister's life, and to +think it perfectly right for Lucy to stay with him, even if she was +assisted in her labor of love by the stranger from New York, the +reserve disappeared and on the most perfect terms of amity she and +Thornton Hastings watched together by Arthur's side. Thornton Hastings +learned more lessons than one in that sick room where Arthur's faith +in God triumphed over the terrors of the grave, which, at one time, +seemed so near, while the timid Lucy, whom he had only known as a gay +butterfly of fashion, dared before him to pray that God would spare +her promised husband or give her grace to say, "Thy will be done."</p> + +<p>Thornton could hardly say that he was skeptical before, but any doubts +he might have had touching the great fundamental truths on which a +true religion rests were gone forever, and he left Hanover a changed +man in more respects than one.</p> + +<p>Arthur did not die, and on the Sunday preceding the week when the +usual Christmas decorations were to commence he came again before his +people, his face very pale and worn, and wearing upon it a look which +told of a new baptism, an added amount of faith which had helped to +lift him above the fleeting cares of this present life. And yet there +was much of earth clinging to him still, and it made itself felt in +the rapid beating of his heart when he glanced towards the square pew +where Lucy knelt and knew that she was giving thanks for him restored +again.</p> + +<p>Once, in the earlier stages of his convalescence, he had almost +betrayed his secret by asking her which she would rather do—bury him +from her sight, feeling that he loved her to the last, or give him to +another, now that she knew he would recover. There was a frightened +look in Lucy's eyes as she replied: "I would ten thousand times rather +see you dead, and know that, even in death, you were my own, than to +lose you that other way. Oh, Arthur, you have no thought of leaving me +now?"</p> + +<p>"No, darling, I have not, I am yours always," he said, feeling that +the compact was sealed forever and that God blessed the sealing.</p> + +<p>He had written to Mrs. Meredith, granting her his forgiveness and +asking that, if Anna did not already know of the deception, she might +never be enlightened. And Mrs. Meredith had answered that Anna had +only heard a rumor that an offer had been made her, but that she +regarded it as a mistake, and was fast recovering both her health and +spirits. Mrs. Meredith did not add her surprise at Arthur's generosity +in adhering to his engagement, nor hint that, now her attack of +conscience was so safely over, she was glad he did so, having hope yet +of that house on Madison Square; but Arthur guessed at it and +dismissed her from his mind just as he tried to dismiss every +unpleasant thought, waiting with a trusting heart for whatever the +future might bring.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII.</h3> + +<h4>VALENCIA.</h4> + + +<p>Very extensive preparations were making at Prospect Hill for the +double wedding to occur on the 15th. After much debate and +consultation, Fanny had decided to take the doctor then; and thus she, +too, shared largely in the general interest and excitement which +pervaded everything.</p> + +<p>Both brides elect seemed very happy, but in a very different way; for, +while Fanny was quiet and undemonstrative, Lucy seemed wild with joy, +and danced gayly about the house—now in the kitchen, where the cake +was making; now in the chamber where the plain sewing was done, and +then flitting to her own room in quest of Valencia, who was sent on +divers errands, the little lady thinking that, now the time was so +near, it would be proper for her to remain indoors and not show +herself in public quite as freely as she had been in the habit of +doing.</p> + +<p>So she remained at home, while they missed her in the back streets and +bylanes, the Widow Hobbs, who was still an invalid, pining for a sight +of her bright face, and only half compensated for its absence by the +charities which Valencia brought; the smart waiting-maid putting on +innumerable airs and making Mrs. Hobbs feel keenly how greatly she +thought herself demeaned by coming to such a heathenish place as that.</p> + +<p>The Hanoverians, too, missed her in the street, but for this they +made ample amends by discussing the doings at Prospect Hill and +commenting upon the bridal trousseau which was sent up from New York +the very week before Christmas, thus affording a most fruitful theme +for conversation for the women and girls engaged in trimming the +church.</p> + +<p>There were dresses of every conceivable fabric, they said, but none +were quite so grand as the wedding-dress itself—the heavy white +silk which could "stand alone," and trailed "a full half-yard behind."</p> + +<p>It was also whispered round that, not content with seeing the effect +of her bridal robes as they lay upon the bed, Miss Lucy Harcourt had +actually tried them on—wreath, veil and all—and stood before the +glass until Miss Fanny had laughed at her for being so vain and +foolish, and said she was a pretty specimen for a sober clergyman's +wife.</p> + +<p>For all this gossip the villagers were indebted mostly to Miss +Valencia Le Barre, who, ever since her arrival at Prospect Hill, had +been growing somewhat disenchanted with the young mistress she had +expected to rule even more completely than she had ruled Mrs. +Meredith. But in this she was mistaken, and it did not improve her +never very amiable temper to find that she could not with safety +appropriate more than half her mistress' handkerchiefs, collars, +cuffs, and gloves, to say nothing of perfumery, and pomades, and, as +this was a new state of things with Valencia, she chafed at the +administration under which she had so willingly put herself, and told +things of her mistress which no sensible servant would ever have +reported. And Lucy gave her plenty to tell.</p> + +<p>Frank and outspoken as a child, she acted as she felt, and did try on +the bridal dress, screaming with pleased delight when Valencia +fastened the veil and let its fleecy folds fall gracefully around her.</p> + +<p>"I wonder what Arthur will think, I do so wish he was here," she had +said, ordering a hand-glass brought that she might see herself from +behind and know just how much her dress did trail, and how it looked +beneath the costly veil.</p> + +<p>She was very beautiful in her bridal robes, and she kept them on till +Fanny began to chide her for her vanity, and, even then, she lingered +before the mirror, as if loath to take them off.</p> + +<p>"I don't believe in presentiments," she said to Fanny; "but, do you +know, it seems to me just as if I should never wear this again," and +she smoothed thoughtfully the folds of the heavy silk she had just +laid upon the bed. "I don't know what can happen to prevent it, unless +Arthur should die. He was so pale last Sunday and seemed so weak that +I shuddered every time I looked at him. I mean to drive round there +this afternoon," she continued. "I suppose it is too cold for him to +venture as far as here, and he has no carriage, either."</p> + +<p>She went to the parsonage that afternoon, and the women in the church +saw her as she drove by, the gorgeous colors of her carriage blanket +flashing in the wintry sunshine just as the diamonds flashed upon the +hand she waved gayly towards them.</p> + +<p>There was a little too much of the lady patroness about her quite to +suit the plain Hanoverians, especially those who were neither high +enough or low enough to be honored with her notice, and they returned +to their wreathmaking and gossip, wondering under their breath if it +would not, on the whole, have been just as well if their clergyman had +married Anna Ruthven instead of this fine city girl with her Parisian +manners.</p> + +<p>A gleam of intelligence shot from the gray eyes of Valencia, who was +in a most unreasonable mood.</p> + +<p>"She did not like to stain her hands with the nasty hemlock more than +some other folks," she had said, when, after the trying on of the +bridal dress, Lucy had remonstrated with her for some duty neglected, +and then bidden her to go to the church and help if she were needed.</p> + +<p>"I must certainly dismiss you," Lucy had said, wondering how Mrs. +Meredith had borne so long with the insolent girl, who went +unwillingly to the church, where she was at work when the carriage +drove by.</p> + +<p>She had thought many times of the letter she had read, and, more than +once, when particularly angry, it had been upon her lips to tell her +mistress that she was not the first whom Mr. Leighton had asked to be +his wife, if, indeed, she was his choice at all; but there was +something in Lucy's manner which held her back; besides which, she +was, perhaps, unwilling to confess to her own meanness in reading the +stolen letter.</p> + +<p>"I could tell them something if I would," she thought, as she bent +over the hemlock boughs and listened to the remarks; but, for that +time, she kept the secret and worked on moodily, while the +unsuspecting Lucy went her way and was soon alighting at the rectory +gate.</p> + +<p>Arthur saw her as she came up the walk and went to meet her.</p> + +<p>He was looking very pale and miserable, and his clothes hung loosely +upon him; but he welcomed her kindly leading her in to the fire, and +trying to believe that he was glad to see her sitting there with her +little high-heeled boots upon the fender and the bright hues of her +Balmoral just showing beneath her dress of blue merino.</p> + +<p>She went all over the house, as she usually did, suggesting +alterations and improvements, and greatly confusing good Mrs. Brown, +who trudged obediently after her, wondering what she and her master +were ever to do with that gay-plumaged bird, whose ways were so unlike +their own.</p> + +<p>"You must drive with me to the church," she said at last to Arthur, +"Fresh air will do you good, and you stay moped up too much. I wanted +you to-day at Prospect Hill, for this morning's express from New York +brought——"</p> + +<p>She stood up on tiptoe to whisper the great news to him, but his +pulses did not quicken in the least, even when she told him how +charming was the bridal dress. He was standing before the mirror and, +glancing at himself, he said, half laughingly, half sadly:</p> + +<p>"I am a pitiful-looking bridegroom to go with all that finery: I +should not think you would want me, Lucy."</p> + +<p>"But I do," she answered, holding his hand and leading him to the +carriage, which took him to the church.</p> + +<p>He had not intended going there as long as there was an excuse for +staying away, and he felt himself grow sick and faint when he stood +amid the Christmas decorations and remembered the last year when he +and Anna had fastened the wreaths upon the wall.</p> + +<p>They were trimming the church very elaborately in honor of him and his +bride, and white artificial flowers, so natural that they could not be +detected, were mingled with scarlet leaves and placed among the mass +of green. The effect was very fine and Arthur tried to praise it, but +his face belied his words; and, after he was gone, the disappointed +girls declared that he acted more like a man about to be hung than one +so soon to be married.</p> + +<p>It was very late that night when Lucy summoned Valencia to comb out +her long, thick curls, and Valencia was tired, and cross, and sleepy, +handling the brush so awkwardly and snarling her mistress's hair so +often that Lucy expostulated with her sharply, and this awoke the +slumbering demon, which, bursting into full life, could no longer be +restrained; and, in amazement, which kept her silent, Lucy listened +while Valencia taunted her "with standing in Anna Ruthven's shoes," +and told her all she knew of the letter stolen by Mrs. Meredith, and +the one she carried to Arthur. But Valencia's anger quickly cooled, +and she trembled with fear when she saw how deathly white her mistress +grew at first and heard the loud beating of her heart, which seemed +trying to burst from its prison and fall bleeding at the feet of the +poor, wretched girl, around whose lips the white foam gathered as she +motioned Valencia to stop and whispered:</p> + +<p>"I am dying!"</p> + +<p>She was not dying, but the fainting fit which ensued was longer and +more like death than that which had come upon Anna when she heard that +Arthur was lost. Twice they thought her heart had ceased to beat, and, +in an agony of remorse, Valencia hung over her, accusing herself as +her murderer, but giving no other explanation to those around her +than: "I was combing her hair when the white froth spirted all over +her wrapper, and she said that she was dying."</p> + +<p>And that was all the family knew of the strange attack, which lasted +till the dawn of the day, and left upon Lucy's face a look as if years +and years of anguish had passed over her young head and left its +footprints behind.</p> + +<p>Early in the morning she asked to see Valencia alone, and the +repentant girl went to her prepared to take back all she had said and +declare the whole a lie. But Lucy wrung the truth from her, and she +repeated the story again so clearly that Lucy had no longer a doubt +that Anna was preferred to herself, and sending Valencia away, she +moaned piteously:</p> + +<p>"Oh, what shall I do? What is my duty?"</p> + +<p>The part which hurt her most of all was the terrible certainty that +Arthur did not love her as he loved Anna Ruthven. She saw it now just +as it was; how, in an unguarded moment, he had offered himself to save +her good name from gossip, and how, ever since, his life had been a +constant struggle to do his duty by her.</p> + +<p>"Poor Arthur," she sobbed, "yours has been a hard lot trying to act +the love you did not feel; but it shall be so no longer. Lucy will set +you free."</p> + +<p>This was her final decision, but she did not reach it till a day and a +night had passed, during which she lay with her white face turned to +the wall, saying she wanted nothing except to be left alone.</p> + +<p>"When I can, I'll tell you," she had said to Fanny and her aunt, when +they insisted upon knowing the cause of her distress. "When I can I'll +tell you. Leave me alone till then."</p> + +<p>So they ceased to worry her, but Fanny sat constantly in the room +watching the motionless figure, which took whatever she offered, but +otherwise gave no sign of life until the morning of the second day, +when it turned slowly towards her, the livid lips quivering piteously +and making an attempt to smile as they said:</p> + +<p>"Fanny, I can tell you now; I have made up my mind."</p> + +<p>Fanny's black eyes were dim with the truest tears she had ever shed +when Lucy's story was ended, and her voice was very low as she asked:</p> + +<p>"And do you mean to give him up at this late hour?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I mean to give him up. I have been over the entire ground many +times, even to the deep humiliation of what people will say, and I +have come each time to the same conclusion. It is right that Arthur +should be released and I shall release him."</p> + +<p>"And you—what will you do?" Fanny asked, gazing in wonder and awe at +the young girl, who answered:</p> + +<p>"I do not know; I have not thought. I guess God will take care of +that."</p> + +<p>He would, indeed, take care of that just as he took care of her, +inclining the Hetherton family to be so kind and tender towards her, +and keeping Arthur from the house during the time when the Christmas +decorations were completed and the Christmas festival was held.</p> + +<p>Many were the inquiries made for her, and many the thanks and wishes +for her speedy restoration sent her by those whom she had so +bountifully remembered.</p> + +<p>Thornton Hastings, too, who had come to town and was present at the +church on Christmas-eve, asked for her with almost as much interest as +Arthur, although the latter had hoped she was not seriously ill and +expressed a regret that she was not there, saying he should call on +her on the morrow after the morning service.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I cannot see him here. I must tell him there, at the rectory, in +the very room where he asked Anna and me both to be his wife," Lucy +said when Fanny reported Arthur's message. "I am able to go there and +I must. It will be fine sleighing to-morrow. See, the snow is falling +now," and pushing back the curtain, Lucy looked dreamily out upon the +fast whitening ground, sighing, as she remembered the night when the +first snowflakes fell and she stood watching them with Arthur at her +side.</p> + +<p>Fanny did not oppose her cousin, and, with a kiss upon the +blue-veined forehead, she went to her own room, leaving Lucy to think +over for the hundredth time what she would say to Arthur.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII.</h3> + +<h4>CHRISTMAS DAY.</h4> + + +<p>The worshippers at St. Mark's on Christmas morning heard the music of +the bells as the Hetherton sleigh passed by, but none of them knew +whither it was bound, or the scene which awaited the rector, when, his +services over, he started towards home.</p> + +<p>Lucy had kept her word, and, just as Mrs. Brown was looking at the +clock to see if it was time to put her fowls to bake, she heard the +hall-door open softly and almost dropped her dripping-pan in her +surprise at the sight of Lucy Harcourt, with her white face and great +sunken blue eyes, which looked so mournfully at her as Lucy said:</p> + +<p>"I want to go to Arthur's room—the library, I mean."</p> + +<p>"Why, child, what is the matter? I heard you was sick, but did not +s'pose 'twas anything like this. You are paler than a ghost," Mrs. +Brown exclaimed as she tried to unfasten Lucy's hood and cloak and +lead her to the fire.</p> + +<p>But Lucy was not cold, she said. She would rather go at once to +Arthur's room. Mrs. Brown made no objection, though she wondered if +the girl was crazy as she went back to her fowls and Christmas +pudding, leaving Lucy to find her way alone to Arthur's study, which +looked so like its owner, with his dressing-gown across the lounge, +just where he had thrown it, his slippers under the table and his +arm-chair standing near the table, where he sat when he asked Lucy to +be his wife, and where she now sat down, panting for breath and gazing +dreamily around with the look of a frightened bird when seeking for +some avenue of escape from an appalling danger. There was no escape, +and, with a moan, she laid her head upon the table and prayed that +Arthur might come quickly while she had sense and strength to tell +him. She heard his step at last, and rose up to meet him, smiling a +little at his sudden start when he saw her there.</p> + +<p>"It's only I," she said, shedding back the clustering curls from her +pallid face, and grasping the chair to steady herself and keep from +falling. "I am not here to frighten you, I've come to do you good—to +set you free. Oh, Arthur, you do not know how terribly you have been +wronged, and I did not know it, either, till a few days ago. She never +received your letter—Anna never did. If she had she would have +answered yes, and have been in my place now; but she is going to be +there. I give you up to Anna. I'm here to tell you so. But oh, Arthur, +it hurts—it hurts."</p> + +<p>He knew it hurt by the agonizing expression of her face, but he could +not go near her for a moment, so overwhelming was his surprise at what +he saw and heard. But, when the first shock to them both was past, and +he could listen to her more rational account of what she knew and what +she was there to do, he refused to listen. He would not be free. He +would keep his word, he said. Matters had gone too far to be suddenly +ended. He held her to his promise and she must be his wife.</p> + +<p>"Can you tell me truly that you love me more than Anna?" Lucy asked, a +ray of hope dawning for an instant upon her heart, but fading into +utter darkness as Arthur hesitated to answer.</p> + +<p>He did love Anna best, though never had Lucy been so near supplanting +even her as at that moment, when she stood before him and told him he +was free. There was something in the magnitude of her generosity which +touched a tender chord and made her dearer to him than she had ever +been.</p> + +<p>"I can make you very happy," he said at last, and Lucy replied:</p> + +<p>"Yes, but yourself—how with yourself? Would you be happy, too? No, +Arthur, you would not, and neither should I, knowing all I do. It is +best that we should part, though it almost breaks my heart, for I have +loved you so much."</p> + +<p>She stopped for breath, and Arthur was wondering what he could say to +persuade her, when a cheery whistle sounded near and Thornton Hastings +appeared in the door. He had gone to the office after church, and not +knowing that anyone but Arthur was in the library, had come there at +once.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon," he said when he saw Lucy, and he was hurrying +away, but Lucy called him back, feeling that in him she should find a +powerful ally to aid her in her task.</p> + +<p>Appealing to him as Arthur's friend, she repeated the story rapidly, +and then went on:</p> + +<p>"Tell him it is best—he must not argue against me, for I feel myself +giving way through my great love for him, and it is not right. Tell +him so Mr. Hastings—plead my cause for me—say what a true woman +ought to say, for, believe me, I am in earnest in giving him to Anna."</p> + +<p>There was a ghastly hue upon her face, and her features looked pinched +and rigid, but the terrible heart-beats were not there. God, in his +great mercy, kept them back, else she had surely died under that +strong excitement. Thornton thought she was fainting, and, going +hastily to her side, passed his arm around her and put her in the +chair; then, standing protectingly by her, he said just what first +came into his mind to say. It was a delicate matter in which to +interfere, and he handled it carefully, telling frankly of what had +passed between himself and Anna, and giving it as his opinion that she +loved Arthur to-day just as well as before she left Hanover.</p> + +<p>"Then, if that is so and Arthur loves her, as I know he does, it is +surely right for them to marry, and they must," Lucy exclaimed, +vehemently, while Thornton laid his hand pityingly upon her head and +said:</p> + +<p>"And only you be sacrificed?"</p> + +<p>There was something wondrously tender in the tone of Thornton's voice, +and Lucy glanced quickly up at him, while her blue eyes filled with +the first tears she had shed since she came into that room.</p> + +<p>"I am willing—I am ready—I have made up my mind and I shall never +revoke it," she answered, while Arthur again put in a feeble +remonstrance.</p> + +<p>But Thornton was on Lucy's side. He did with cooler judgment what she +could not, and when, at last, the interview was ended, there was no +ring on Lucy's forefinger, for Arthur held it in his hand and their +engagement was at an end.</p> + +<p>Stunned with what he had passed through, Arthur stood motionless, +while Thornton drew Lucy's cloak about her shoulders, fastened her fur +himself, tied on her satin hood, taking such care of her as a mother +would take of a suffering child.</p> + +<p>"It is hardly safe to send her home alone," he thought, as he looked +into her face and saw how weak she was. "As a friend of both, I ought +to accompany her."</p> + +<p>She was, indeed, very weak, so weak that she could scarcely stand, +and Thornton took her in his arms and carried her to the sleigh; then +springing in beside her he made her lean her tired head upon his +shoulder as they drove to Prospect Hill. She did not seem frivolous to +him now, but rather the noblest type of womanhood he had ever met. Few +could do what she had done, and there was much of warmth and fervor in +the clasp of his hand as he bade her good-by and went back to the +rectory, thinking how deceived he had been in Lucy Harcourt.</p> + +<hr class="small" /> + +<p>Great was the consternation and surprise in Hanover when it was known +that there was to be but one bride at Prospect Hill on the night of +the fifteenth, and various were the surmises as to the cause of the +sudden change; but, strive as they might, the good people of the +village could not get at the truth, for Valencia held her peace, while +the Hethertons were far too proud to admit of being questioned, and +Thornton Hastings stood a bulwark of defence between the people and +their clergyman, adroitly managing to have the pulpit at St. Mark's +supplied for a few weeks while he took Arthur away, saying that his +health required the change.</p> + +<hr class="small" /> + +<p>"You have done nobly, darling," Fanny Hetherton had said to Lucy when +she received her from Thornton's hands and heard that all was over; +then, leading her half-fainting cousin to her own cheerful room, she +made her lie down while she told of the plan she had formed when first +she heard what Lucy's intentions were.</p> + +<p>"I wrote to the doctor, asking if he would take a trip to Europe, so +that you could go with us, for I know you would not wish to stay here. +To-day I have his answer, saying he will go, and what is better yet, +father and mother are going, too."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I am so glad, so glad. I could not stay here now," Lucy replied, +sobbing herself to sleep, while Fanny sat by and watched, wondering at +the strength which had upheld her weak little cousin in the struggle +she had been through, and, now that it was over and the doctor safe +from temptation, feeling that it was just as well; for, after all, it +was a <i>mésalliance</i> for an heiress like her cousin to marry a poor +clergyman.</p> + +<hr class="small" /> + +<p>There was a very quiet wedding at Prospect Hill on the night of the +fifteenth, but neither Lucy nor Arthur were there. He lay sick again +at the St. Denis in New York and she was alone in her chamber, +fighting back her tears and praying that, now the worst was over, she +might be withheld from looking back and wishing the work undone. She +went with the bridal party to New York, where she tarried for a few +days, seeing no one but Anna, for whom she sent at once. The interview +had lasted more than an hour, and Anna's eyes were swollen with +passionate weeping when at last it ended, but Lucy's face, though +white as snow, was very calm and quiet, wearing a peaceful, placid +look, which made it like the face of an angel. Two weeks later and the +steamer bore her away across the water, where she hoped to outlive the +storm which had beaten so piteously upon her. Thornton Hastings and +Anna went with her on board the ship, and for their sakes she tried to +appear natural, succeeding so well that it was a very pleasant picture +which Thornton cherished in his mind of a frail little figure standing +upon the deck, holding its waterproof together with one hand and with +the other waving a smiling adieu to Anna and himself.</p> + +<p>More than a year after, Thornton Hastings followed that figure across +the sea, finding it in beautiful Venice, sailing again through the +moon-lit streets and listening to the music which came so oft from the +passing gondolas. It had recovered its former roundness and the face +was even more beautiful than it had been before, for the light +frivolity was all gone and there was reigning in its stead a peaceful, +subdued expression which made Lucy Harcourt very fair to look upon. At +least, so thought Thornton Hastings, and he lingered at her side, +feeling glad that she had given no outward token of agitation when he +said to her:</p> + +<p>"There was a wedding at St. Mark's, in Hanover, just before I left; +can you guess who the happy couple were?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—Arthur and Anna. She wrote me they were to be married on +Christmas Eve. I am so glad it has come round at last."</p> + +<p>Then she questioned him of the bridal, of Arthur, and even of Anna's +dress, her manner evincing that the old wound had healed and nothing +but a sear remained to tell where it had been. And so the days went on +beneath the sunny Italian skies, until one glorious night, when +Thornton spoke his mind, alluding to the time when each loved another, +expressing himself as glad that, in his case, the matter had ended as +it did, and then asking Lucy if she could conscientiously be his wife.</p> + +<p>"What, you marry a frivolous plaything like me?" Lucy asked, her +woman's pride flashing up once more, but this time playfully, as +Thornton knew by the joyous light in her eye.</p> + +<p>She told him what she meant and how she had hated him for it, and then +they laughed together; but Thornton's kiss smothered the laugh on +Lucy's lips, for he guessed what her answer was, and that this, his +second wooing, was more successful than his first.</p> + +<hr class="small" /> + +<p>"Married, in Rome, on Thursday, April 10th, Thornton Hastings, Esq., +of New York City, to Miss Lucy Harcourt, also of New York, and niece +of Colonel James Hetherton."</p> + +<p>Anna was out in the rectory garden bending over a bed of hyacinths +when Arthur brought her the paper and pointed to the notice.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I am so glad—so glad—so glad!" she exclaimed, emphasizing each +successive "glad" a little more and setting down her foot, as if to +give it force. "I have never dared to be quite as happy with you as I +might," she continued, leaning lovingly against her husband, "for +there was always a thought of Lucy and what a fearful price she paid +for our happiness. But now it is all as it should be; and, Arthur, am +I very vain in thinking that she is better suited to Thornton Hastings +than I ever was, and that I do better as your wife than Lucy would +have done?"</p> + +<p>A kiss was Arthur's only answer, but Anna was satisfied, and there +rested upon her face a look of perfect content as all that warm spring +afternoon she worked in her pleasant garden, thinking of the +newly-married pair in Rome, and glancing occasionally at the open +window of the library, where Arthur was busy with his sermon, his pen +moving all the faster for the knowing that Anna was just within his +call—that by turning his head he could see her dear face, and that +by-and-by when his work was done she would come in to him, and with +her loving words and winsome ways, make him forget how tired he was, +and thank heaven again for the great gift bestowed when it gave him +Anna Ruthven.</p> + + +<p class="center">THE END.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="AUNT_HENRIETTAS_MISTAKE" id="AUNT_HENRIETTAS_MISTAKE"></a>AUNT HENRIETTA'S MISTAKE</h2> + +<h3>BY FRANCES HENSHAW BADEN.</h3> + +<table summary="Center"> +<tr><td> +"Before thy soul, at this deep lottery,<br /> +Draw forth her prize ordained by destiny,<br /> +Know that there's no recanting a first choice;<br /> +Choose then discreetly." +</td></tr></table> + + +<p>"Heigh-ho! This is Valentine's day. Oh, how I would like to get a +valentine! Did you ever get one, aunty?" said little Etta Mayfield.</p> + +<p>"Yes, many of them. But not when I was a child. In my day children +were children. You get a valentine! I'm e'en a'most struck dumb with +astonishment to hear you think of such things. Go, get your doll-baby, +or your sampler, and look on that. Saints of Mercy! It seems only +yesterday you were a baby in long clothes," answered Miss Henrietta +Mayfield, a spinster of uncertain age; but the folks in the village, +who always knew everything, declared she had not owned to a day over +thirty-five for the last ten years. This, if true, was quite +excusable, for Miss Henrietta's little toilette glass reflected a +bright, pleasant, and remarkably youthful face.</p> + +<p>"I'm almost seventeen, aunty, and I'm tired of being treated like a +child," said Etta, with a pout of her rosy lips.</p> + +<p>"Ten years to come will be plenty time enough for you to think of +such things. A valentine, indeed! I'd like to know who is to send one +to you, or to any one else. There are only three unmarried men in our +village; which of them would you like for your valentine; Jake Spikes, +the blind fiddler; Bill Bowen, the deaf mail-boy, or Squire Sloughman? +If the squire sends a valentine, I rather guess it will be to me. Oh, +I forgot! There's the handsome stranger that boarded last summer with +Miss Plimpkins. I noticed him at church Sunday. Come down to make a +little visit and bring Miss Plimpkins a nice present ag'in, I guess. +He is mighty grateful to her for taking such good care of him while he +was sick. A uncommon handsome man. But 'taint a bit likely he'll think +of a baby like you. He is a man old enough to know better—near forty, +likely. He was monstrous polite to me; always finding the hymns, and +passing his book to me. And I noticed Sunday he looked amazing +pleasing at me. Land! it's ten o'clock. You'd better run over to the +office and get the paper. No, I'll go myself. I want to stop in the +store, to get some yarn and a little tea."</p> + +<p>Miss Henrietta hurried off, and little Etta pouted on and murmured +something about:</p> + +<p>"People must have been dreadful slow and dull in aunty's young days," +and then her thoughts wandered to that same handsome stranger.</p> + +<p>She, too, had seen him in church on Sunday, and knew well how the rosy +blush mantled her fair face when she saw the pleasant smile she had +hoped was for her. But she might have known better, she thought; such +a splendid man would never think of her. She would be sure to die an +old maid, all on account of that dark-eyed stranger.</p> + +<p>"Has Bill got in with the mail?" asked Miss Mayfield.</p> + +<p>"Yes, miss; here's your paper what Bill brought, and here is a letter +or valentine what Bill didn't bring. It's from the village," said the +little old postmaster, with a merry laugh.</p> + +<p>Yes, no mistaking, it was a valentine, directed in a fine manly hand +to Miss Henrietta Mayfield. "From Squire Sloughman," thought Miss +Henrietta. "He has spoken, or rather written his hopes at last." But, +no, that was not his handwriting.</p> + +<p>Miss Mayfield stepped out on the porch, carefully opened the envelope, +and glanced hurriedly over the contents, and then at the +signature—Arthur Linton.</p> + +<p>"Well, well, who would have thought?" said she; "that is the name of +the handsome stranger! Just to think of his really taking a liking to +me. Stop! maybe he is a sharper from town, who has heard of my having +a little property, and that's what he's after. I'll read his valentine +over again:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Do not think me presumptuous, dear maid, in having dared to write +you. No longer can I resist the continued pleadings of my heart. +I have loved you ever since your sweet blue eyes, beaming with +their pure, loving light, met my gaze. I have seized the +opportunity offered by St. Valentine's day to speak and learn my +fate. I will call this evening and hear from your dear lips if I +shall be permited to try and teach your heart to love,</p> + +<p class="right"> +<span class="smcap">Arthur Linton</span>.</p> +</div> + +<p>"Well, truly that is beautiful language. It is a long day since +anybody talked of my blue eyes. They were blue once, and I suppose are +so still. Well, he writes as if he meant it. I'll see him, and give +him a little bit of encouragement. Perhaps that seeing some one else +after me will make the squire speak out. For six years he has been +following me. For what? He has never said. I like Squire +Sloughman—(his name should be Slowman). I'll try and hasten him on +with all the heart I've got left. The most of it went to the bottom of +the cruel ocean with my poor sailor-boy. Ah! if it had not been for +his sad end, I would not now be caring for any man, save my poor +Willie. But it is a lonesome life I am living—and it's kind of +natural for a woman to think kindly of some man; and the squire is a +real good fellow, and, to save me, I can't help wishing he would +speak, and be done with it.</p> + +<p>"This valentine may be for my good luck, after all," Miss Henrietta's +thoughts were swift now, planning for the future; her feet kept pace +with them, and before she knew it, she was at her own door.</p> + +<p>"Why, aunty, how handsome you do look! your cheeks are as rosy as our +apples," said Etta.</p> + +<p>"Is that such a rarity, you should make so much of it?" answered Miss +Henrietta.</p> + +<p>"No, indeed, aunty, I only hope I may ever be as good looking as you +are always. Did you get your yarn and tea?"</p> + +<p>"Land! if I hain't forgot them! You see, child, the wind is blowing +rather fresh, and I was anxious to get back," she answered her niece; +but said to herself, "Henrietta Mayfield, I am ashamed on you to let +any man drive your senses away."</p> + +<p>"Never mind, Ettie; you can go over and spend the afternoon with +Jessie Jones, and then get the things for me," she continued, glad of +an excuse to get Etta away.</p> + +<p>Miss Henrietta was very particular with her toilet that afternoon, and +truly the result was encouraging. She was satisfied that she was +handsome still.</p> + +<p>It was near dark when she saw the handsome stranger coming up the +garden walk.</p> + +<p>"Did Miss Henrietta Mayfield receive a letter from me to-day?" he +asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir; walk in," answered Miss Henrietta, who, although quite +flurried, managed to appear quite cool.</p> + +<p>"This, perhaps, may seem very precipitate in me, and I have feared +perhaps you might not look with any favor on my suit. Do, dear lady, +ease my fears. Can I hope that in time I may win the heart I am so +anxious to secure?"</p> + +<p>"Ahem—well, I cannot tell, sure. You know, sir, we have to know a +person before we can love him. But I must confess I do feel very +favorably inclined towards you."</p> + +<p>"Bless you, my dear friend; I may call you so now, until I claim a +nearer, dearer title. If you are now kindly disposed, I feel sure of +ultimate success. I feared the difference in our ages might be an +objection."</p> + +<p>"No, no; I do not see why it need. It is well to have a little +advantage on one side or the other. But, my dear friend, should you +fail to secure the affection, you will not think unkindly of your +friend."</p> + +<p>"No; only let me have a few weeks, with your continued favor, and I +ask no more. Many, many thanks," and, seizing her hand, he pressed it +to his lips.</p> + +<p>"Will you not now allow me to see my fair Henrietta?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I have been a little flurried, and did forget it was quite dark. +I'll light the lamp in a minute."</p> + +<p>Etta's sweet voice was now heard humming a song in the next room. She +had returned from her visit, and as Miss Henrietta succeeded in +lighting the lamp, her bright face peeped in the door, and she said:</p> + +<p>"Aunty, Squire Sloughman is coming up the walk."</p> + +<p>"Bless her sweet face! There is my Henrietta now!" exclaimed the +visitor, and before the shade was adjusted on the lamp, she was alone. +The handsome stranger was in the next room with—Etta!</p> + +<p>A little scream, an exclamation of surprise from Etta, followed by the +deep, manly voice of Mr. Linton, saying:</p> + +<p>"Dearest Henrietta, I have your aunt's permission to win you, if I +can."</p> + +<p>"Henrietta! Little baby Etta! Sure enough, that was her name, too. +What an idiot she had been!" thought Henrietta, the elder. "Oh! she +hoped she had not exposed her mistake! Maybe he had not understood +her!"</p> + +<p>But Squire Sloughman was waiting for some one to admit him, and she +had no more time to think over the recent conversation, or to +determine whether or not Mr. Linton was aware of her blunder.</p> + +<p>Squire Sloughman was cordially welcomed, and after being seated a +while, observed:</p> + +<p>"You have got a visitor, I see," pointing to the stranger's hat lying +on the table beside him.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Etta's got company. The stranger that boarded at Miss Plimpkins' +last summer. He sent Etta a valentine, and has now come himself," +returned Miss Henrietta.</p> + +<p>"A valentine! what for?"</p> + +<p>"To ask her to have him, surely. And I suppose he'll be taking her off +to town to live, pretty soon."</p> + +<p>"And you, what will you do? It will be awful lonely here for you," +said the squire.</p> + +<p>"Oh! he's coming out now," thought Miss Henrietta. And she gave him a +better chance by her reply:</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't know that anybody cares for that. I guess no one will +run away with me."</p> + +<p>But she was disappointed; it came not, what she hoped for, just then. +Yet the Squire seemed very uneasy. At length he said:</p> + +<p>"I got a valentine myself, to-day."</p> + +<p>"You! What sort of a one? Comic, funny, or real in earnest?" asked +Miss Henrietta.</p> + +<p>"Oh! there is nothing funny about it—not a bit of laugh; all cry."</p> + +<p>"Land! a crying valentine."</p> + +<p>"Yes, a baby."</p> + +<p>"Squire Sloughman!" said Miss Henrietta, with severe dignity.</p> + +<p>"Yes, my dear, Miss Henrietta; I'll tell you all about it. You +remember my niece, who treated me so shamefully by running away and +marrying. Well, poor girl, she died a few days ago, and left her baby +for me, begging I would do for her little girl as kindly as I did by +its mother."</p> + +<p>"Shall you keep it?" asked Miss Henrietta.</p> + +<p>"I can't tell; that will depend on some one else. I may have to send +it off to the poorhouse!"</p> + +<p>"I'll take it myself first," said his listener.</p> + +<p>"Not so, my dear, without you take me, too. Hey, what say you, now? I +tell you, I've a notion to be kind and good to this little one; but a +man must have some one to help him do right. Now, it depends on you to +help me be a better or a worse man. I've been thinking of you for a +half-dozen years past, but I thought your whole heart was in little +Etta, and maybe you wouldn't take me, and I did not like to deal with +uncertainties. Now, Etta's provided for with a valentine, I'm here +offering myself and my valentine to you. Say yes or no; I'm in a hurry +now."</p> + +<p>"Pity but you had been so years ago," thought Miss Henrietta; but she +said:</p> + +<p>"Squire Sloughman, I think it the duty of every Christian to do all +the good she can. So, for that cause, and charity toward the helpless +little infant, I consent to—become——"</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Sloughwoman—man, I mean," said the delighted Squire, springing +up and imprinting a kiss on Miss Henrietta's lips.</p> + +<p>"Sloughwoman, indeed! I'll not be slow in letting you know I think you +are very hasty in your demonstrations. Wait until I give you leave," +said the happy spinster.</p> + +<p>"I have waited long enough. And now, my dear, do you hurry on to do +your Christian duty; remembering particularly the helpless little +infant needing your care," said the Squire, a little mischievously.</p> + +<p>Miss Henrietta never knew whether her mistake had been discovered. She +did not try to find out.</p> + +<p>In a short time there was a double wedding in the village. The brides, +Aunt Henrietta and little Etta, equally sharing the admiration of the +guests.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Sloughman admitted to herself, after all, it was the valentine +that brought the squire out. And she is often heard to say that she +had fully proved the truth of the old saying, "It's an ill wind that +blows nobody good."</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="FALSE_AND_TRUE_LOVE" id="FALSE_AND_TRUE_LOVE"></a>FALSE AND TRUE LOVE.</h2> + +<h3>BY FRANCES HENSHAW BADEN.</h3> + +<table summary="center"> +<tr><td align="left"> +"Though round her playful lips should glitter<br /> +Heat lightnings of a girlish scorn,<br /> +Harmless they are, for nothing bitter<br /> +In that dear heart was ever born;<br /> +That merry heart that cannot lie<br /> +Within its warm nest quietly,<br /> +But ever from the full dark eye<br /> +Is looking kindly night and morn."<br /> +</td></tr></table> + + +<p>"My son, I do not believe Valeria Fairleigh has ever a serious +thought; nothing beyond the present enjoyment, or deeper than the +devising of a becoming attire for some approaching dance or festive +occasion. Believe me, she is not the girl for a minister's wife. You +have chosen as your vocation the work of God; in this you should be +sustained by your wife: one who would enter into your labor with +energy of mind and body. She should have a heart to sympathize not +only with her husband, but his charge. I tell you, David, a man's +success and popularity in his ministry depends very much on the woman +that he has chosen to be his helpmate. Had your mother been other than +she is, I truly think I should have sunk under the many trials during +the years of my work."</p> + +<p>"But, father, if report speaks truly, my mother was not a very sedate +maiden. I have heard many a tale of her wild days. Pardon me, but I do +not think you are judging Miss Fairleigh with your usual benevolence +and charity. I know she is a very gay, fun-loving girl, but I believe +she has a warm, true heart. I have never known her to do a heartless +action, or turn a cold ear on any needing her sympathy."</p> + +<p>"Lovers are prone to see only the good and beautiful," replied his +father, "Of course, my son, I do not wish or expect to decide this +matter for you; only to influence you, for your happiness. Will you +promise me this much—do not commit yourself until you have seen more +of Valeria and in some degree test her worth. How is it that a man of +such deep thought, hard study, and so earnest and devoted to his work, +should place his affections on one so very dissimilar? It is very +strange to me, particularly as in the same house is her cousin, Miss +Bland—just the woman for you. A well-cultivated, +thoroughly-disciplined mind, with great energy and industry. You know +well, of charities her name is always among the first; ready with time +and money to help in good works. Why could you not have loved her? Why +did your heart wander from the right?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, father! you ask why the heart wanders! I know too truly love +cannot be tutored; but will drag away the heart—often against our +better judgment, and wander with it where it will—sometimes dropping +on the bosom of a calmly gliding river; again amid the turbulent waves +of a dark and stormy sea. Heaven grant that this last may not be the +fate of mine. The true reason, however, that I became attached to Miss +Fairleigh I think is this: I was so accustomed to, so tired of, +dignified, sedate and 'well-disciplined' young ladies, who always put +on church behavior and talk only of church matters when the minister +is near, that when I met her she was so different such a bright, merry +child of nature, I was charmed! Yes, I may say, refreshed, rested. +After the many sad and trying duties of our calling, father, we need +some one like Vallie Fairleigh to call forth a reaction of the mind. +But you shall have the promise, I will not advance a step further +until I know her better."</p> + +<p>A few days after this conversation David Carlton was sitting in his +study, when his father entered, saying:</p> + +<p>"David, I have a letter from home, hastening my return. So I shall +have to cut my visit a little short. I would go away much happier, if +my mind was relieved about Miss Fairleigh. I wish I could think her +worthy of the position you would place her in. I have noticed you much +since our conversation on that subject, and I am sure you are much +attached to her. I have an idea to put her to a test, not only +concerning her better feelings, but to prove the amount of influence +you have over her.</p> + +<p>"Listen: This evening is appointed for the meeting to raise funds and +make arrangements relative to sending out a missionary to the —— +Indians. There has (you tell me) been but little interest awakened +among your people on this subject. Now, if you can induce the young +folks to take hold of this, it will be all right. This is also the +evening of Monsieur Costello's grand masquerade and the opera of +'Maritana.' I called on Mrs. Fairleigh about an hour ago. The ladies +were discussing these amusements. Miss Bland is very anxious to see +that particular opera, and was trying to persuade Valeria to go with +her. Mrs. Fairleigh positively forbade the ball; so when I left the +arrangement was, Miss Bland, Mrs. Fairleigh and the gentlemen were +going to enjoy the music, and Valeria is to remain home; but I very +much fear this she will not do. Now, David, go and ask her to +accompany you—urge her; tell her how much good her influence might +exert, and so on. If she consents, I have not another word to say +about your loving, wooing and marrying her, if you can. Should she not +consent, then ask Miss Bland. I know how anxious she is to see +"Maritana." Now, try if she will resign this pleasure for the sake of +doing good. Of course, you must not let her know you have previously +asked her cousin. Will you do it? It can do no harm, and may he +productive of much good."</p> + +<p>"Yes, father, I will put her to the test. But I will not promise that +the issue shall decide my future course. I shall be grieved and +mortified if she does not consent, but not without hope. I know she is +good, and we will find it yet."</p> + +<p>An hour more found David Carlton awaiting in the drawing-room the +coming of Valeria.</p> + +<p>Fortune favored him thus far.</p> + +<p>"Miss Bland and Miss Fairleigh were out, but would be back soon. Miss +Valeria was in," answered the servant to his inquiry, "If the ladies +were home?"</p> + +<p>In a few moments she came in smiling brightly, and saying:</p> + +<p>"I am really glad to see you again, Mr. Carlton, for mamma and Julia +said I had quite horrified you with my nonsense the last evening you +were here. Indeed, you must excuse me, but I cannot possibly don +dignity and reserve. Jule can do enough of that for both, and I think +it is far better to laugh than be sighing."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, I have never seen anything to disapprove of. I could not +expect or wish to see the young and happy either affecting, or really +possessing, the gravity of maturer years. My absence has no connection +whatever with the events of that evening. I have been devoting my +spare time to my father. This is his last evening with me. I came +round to ask a favor of you. We are very anxious to get up some +interest for the mission to ——, and father thinks if the young folks +of the church would aid us, it would be all right. Will you go with +us?" answered David. A look of deep regret, the first he had ever +seen, was in the eyes of Valeria, when she answered:</p> + +<p>"You will have to excuse me, I have an engagement for the evening, I +am really sorry, I would like to oblige you." Then, breaking into a +merry laugh, she said:</p> + +<p>"Jule will go—ask her. She dotes on missions—both foreign and home, +and all sorts of charity meetings. She has money, too; I've spent +every cent of mine this month already, besides all I could borrow. +Yes, ask her; I know she will, and give, too. I should be sure to go +to sleep or get to plotting some sort of mischief against my nearest +neighbor. I could do you no good, Mr. Carlton."</p> + +<p>"Valeria! Excuse me, Miss Fairleigh—will you be serious and listen to +me one moment?"</p> + +<p>He urged, but in vain. Not even when his voice sank to low, soft tones +and, with pleading eyes, he whispered: "Go for my sake," would she +consent.</p> + +<p>"At least tell me where you are going?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I am going to——. No, I dare not tell. Ma and Jule would not +approve, and even dear, good papa might censure, if he knew it. Here +they come! Julia, Mr. Carlton is waiting to see you."</p> + +<p>"Well, David, you have failed! Your countenance is very expressive."</p> + +<p>"Even so, sir—Miss Fairleigh not only declined, but I greatly fear +she is going to the ball against her parents' wishes. If this be so, I +must try to conquer this love. The girl who sets at naught the will of +her kind, loving parents—acting secretly against their wishes—would +not, I am sure, prove a good wife."</p> + +<p>"Well spoken, my son. How about Miss Bland?"</p> + +<p>"Of course she is going. We are to call for her."</p> + +<p>"A good girl—resigning pleasure to duty. A rare good girl."</p> + +<p>"Apparently, so, sir; but, indeed, I am impressed with the idea that +there is something hidden about her. She does not seem natural," +replied David.</p> + +<p>Father and son had just arrived at Mr. Fairleigh's when the door +opened to admit a middle-aged, poorly-clad woman. Showing them into +the drawing-room, the servant closed the door. Very soon after seating +themselves they heard the voice of Miss Bland in a very excited tone.</p> + +<p>"My brother! How dare you ask me of him?"</p> + +<p>"I dare for my child's sake. She is ill—perhaps dying."</p> + +<p>"What is that to him or me? I told you and her I would have nothing +more to do with either, since her name became so shamefully connected +with my brother's. Will you be kind enough to relieve me of your +presence?"</p> + +<p>"My daughter is as pure as you. Her child, and your brother's is +suffering from want. Will you pay me, at least, for our last work—the +dress you have on?"</p> + +<p>"How much?" was asked, in a sharp, quick voice.</p> + +<p>"Five dollars."</p> + +<p>"Outrageous! No, I will not pay that. Here are three dollars. Go, and +never let me hear of you again."</p> + +<p>"Julia Bland, I wish the world knew you as I do. You will grind to the +earth your sister-woman, and give liberally where it will be known and +said, 'How charitable—how good!' I say how hard-hearted—how +deceitful!" said the woman, in bitter tones.</p> + +<p>"Go!" came forth, in a voice quivering with rage.</p> + +<p>Soon the hall door told the departure of the unwelcome guest.</p> + +<p>Looks of amazement, beyond description, passed between the reverend +gentlemen.</p> + +<p>At length the younger one said:</p> + +<p>"She does not know of our arrival. I will go into the hall and touch +the bell."</p> + +<p>"Oh! excuse me, sir. I thought Miss Bland was in the drawing-room. I +will tell her now," said the servant.</p> + +<p>Could this gentle, dignified woman be the same whose harsh, hard tones +were still lingering in their ears?</p> + +<p>Impossible! thought the elder man. Surely he must be in a dreadful, +dreadful dream. Not so David; he clearly understood it all, and felt +truly thankful that the blundering servant had enabled him to get this +"peep behind the scenes."</p> + +<p>The meeting was over, and they were just leaving the church, when:</p> + +<p>"Please, sir, tell me where I can find the preacher or doctor—and +I've forgot which—maybe both. They frightened me so when they hurried +me off!" said a boy, running up to them.</p> + +<p>"Here, my lad—what is it?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Preacher, please come with me. There is a young woman very +ill—maybe dying. They sent me for somebody, and I can't remember; but +please run, sir!"</p> + +<p>"I will go. Excuse me, Miss Bland; father will take charge of you."</p> + +<p>And he followed, with hasty steps, the running boy.</p> + +<p>"Here, sir—this is the house. Go in, sir, please!"</p> + +<p>"Now, my lad, run over to Dr. Lenord's office—he is in—and ask him +to come. So, one or the other of us will be the right one."</p> + +<p>David Carlton entered, treading noiselessly along the passage, until +he had reached a door slightly open. Glancing in to be sure he was +right, he beheld lying—apparently almost dying—a young woman. Beside +the bed, kneeling with upraised head and clasped hands, was a +strangely familiar form. Then came forth a sweet voice, pleading to +the throne of Mercy for the sufferer. He gazed spellbound for a +moment. Then slowly and softly he retraced his steps to the door. Then +he almost flew along the streets until he reached Mr. Fairleigh's, +just as his father and Miss Bland were ascending the steps. Seizing +the former very unceremoniously, he said:</p> + +<p>"Come, father, with me quickly—you are wanted."</p> + +<p>In a few moments more, before the boy had returned with the physician, +they stood again at the door of the sickroom. David whispered:</p> + +<p>"Look there! listen!"</p> + +<p>"Be still, Mary, dear! Do not worry. I shall not judge you wrongfully. +How dare I? We are all so sinful. That you are suffering and in need +is all the knowledge I want."</p> + +<p>"Oh, where is William? Why does he not come? Why not speak and +acknowledge his wife and child? Now that I am dying, he might! Oh, +where is he? Why will not God send him to me?" moaned the sick girl.</p> + +<p>"God is love, Mary. He does not willingly afflict or chastise us. Try +to say, 'Thy will be done!'</p> + +<p>"But, dear, do not be so desponding. I know you are very sick; but I +think it more your mind than bodily illness. Try to bear up. Pray God +to spare you for your baby's sake," softly said the comforter.</p> + +<p>"Father, you go in and see if you can help her. I will await you +outside," whispered David.</p> + +<p>A slight knock at the door aroused the kneeling girl, who approached +and said:</p> + +<p>"Come in, doctor! Why, Mr. Carlton—I was expecting the doctor. This +poor girl is very sick; she fainted a while ago. I was very much +alarmed and sent a boy for a physician. She is somewhat better now. +Come in; you may soothe her mind, and possibly do more good than the +medical man."</p> + +<p>"Miss Fairleigh? Is it possible I find you here? I thought you were at +the masquerade."</p> + +<p>"Heaven bless her, sir," said a woman, arising from a seat beside the +sufferer, whom Mr. Carlton recognized as the woman he had seen enter +Mr. Fairleigh's a few hours before. "But for her care, we should have +suffered beyond endurance. She has comforted mind and body. Yes, when +evil tongues whispered of shame! her pure heart did not fear, or +shrink from us. When employers and friends deserted and condemned, she +stayed and consoled."</p> + +<p>"Hush! She has fainted again. Oh! why does not the doctor come?" said +Valeria.</p> + +<p>"Thank Heaven! Here he is now."</p> + +<p>Mr. Carlton approached the physician (an old acquaintance), and +explained to him as well as he could the trouble. The kind-hearted +doctor raised the poor, thin hand, felt the feeble pulse, and, +turning, answered the anxious, inquiring looks bent on him:</p> + +<p>"It is only a swoon; yet she is very weak. However, I think we will +bring her round all right in a little while."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, she is an honest girl, doctor, although appearances are +against her now," said the mother. "Her husband left her before she +was taken ill, to remain a short time with his sick uncle. Mr. Bland +was fearful of offending his aged relative, and so kept his marriage +concealed. She had a few letters when he first left, but, for near two +months, not a word have we heard. I fear he is ill. She has grown +dreadfully depressed since the birth of her babe. The suspicion +resting on her is killing her."</p> + +<p>The suffering girl was showing signs of returning consciousness. Then +a quick step was heard in the entry. She started up and cried out:</p> + +<p>"Willie is come! Thank God!" and sank back, almost lifeless.</p> + +<p>William Bland, for truly it was so, rushed forward and dropped on his +knees beside the bed, saying:</p> + +<p>"How is this? Why have you not answered my letters? Doctor, save her!"</p> + +<p>Advancing, the doctor raised her head gently and gave her a little +wine, saying:</p> + +<p>"Speak to her, reassure her; that is all she needs now."</p> + +<p>"Listen, Mary love, dear wife, and mother!" he whispered, in +astonishment, as Valeria held before him the little sleeping babe, +while a flush of paternal pride passed over his fine face. "There is +no more need of silence; I am free and proud to claim you, darling. +Uncle knows all, and bids me bring you to him. He was very ill. I +nursed him and his life was spared. The fatigue, and more than all the +worry of mind about you, brought on a severe nervous fever. I have +been very ill. Julia knew it. Did you not hear? In my ravings I told +all. Uncle has changed much since his recovery. He is no longer +ambitious, except for my happiness, and is now waiting to welcome +you."</p> + +<p>The wonderful medicine had been administered, and already the happy +effects were apparent.</p> + +<p>With her hand clasped in her husband's she was slumbering peacefully, +while a smile of sweet content lingered on the pale face.</p> + +<p>The doctor soon bade adieu, saying:</p> + +<p>"I see I shall not be needed any longer. She will very soon be strong +again."</p> + +<p>"Miss Fairleigh, I am awaiting your pleasure. Are you to return to +your home to-night?" asked Mr. Carlton.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes. Bridget promised to come for me, but I must get back before +mamma and Julia; yet I forget there is no further need of concealment: +I am so very glad! I will be over in the morning. Good-night."</p> + +<p>"God bless you, Vallie! you have been a ministering angel to my loved +ones. You can tell Julia I have returned and am with my wife. I fear +my sister has acted very wickedly in this matter. I have written many +times and received no answer. Some one, for whom they were not +intended, got those letters. Perhaps I judge her harshly. Good-night," +said William Bland.</p> + +<p>Vallie, accompanied by Mr. Carlton, was soon on her way home. They had +gone but a short distance when they were joined by David.</p> + +<p>"Why, Mr. Carlton! how strange to meet you, when I was just thinking +of you, and on the eve of asking your father to tell you I was not at +the ball this evening. I was so sorry I could not explain when you +asked me. Your father will tell you all, I know. You thought me very +wicked and willful," said Vallie.</p> + +<p>David clasped the little hand held out to greet him, and whispered:</p> + +<p>"With your permission I will come to-morrow, and tell you what I did +think and do still."</p> + +<p>Bidding her good-night at her father's door, David lingered a moment, +to catch the low answer to his repeated question, "Shall I come?"</p> + +<p>Fervently thanking God for the happy termination of the evening, he +hastened to overtake his father—and said:</p> + +<p>"Well, father?"</p> + +<p>"Well, David! Very well. Go ahead, David, win her, if you can! She is +a rare, good girl."</p> + +<p>"Which one, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Come, come! David, I am completely bewildered by this evening's +discoveries. Do not bear too hard on me, for falling into a common +error—mistaking the apparent for the real. This night has proved a +test far more thorough than I imagined it possibly could. You may +safely abide by the issue and never fear the stormy sea," answered his +father.</p> + +<p>A few months more and Vallie Fairleigh's merry voice and sweet smile +resounds through, and brightens the minister's home.</p> + +<p>David Carlton stands to-day among the best-loved and most popular of +the clergy. Attributable most likely to his "wife's influence" (his +father says). I well know she has soothed many an aching heart, +cheered the long, weary hours of the sickroom, won the young from the +path of evil, and now numberless prayers are ascending and begging +God's blessing on the "minister's wife."</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="IN_THE_HOSPITAL" id="IN_THE_HOSPITAL"></a>IN THE HOSPITAL.</h2> + +<h3>BY FRANCES HENSHAW BADEN.</h3> + + +<p>In the autumn of 1862 my time was constantly employed in the various +hospitals of Washington. At this period of our struggle the Sanitary +Commission was in its infancy, and all attentions of the kind ladies +were joyfully received by surgeons and nurses, as well as by our +noble, suffering boys. Immediately after the wounded from the second +battle of Bull Run were assigned to the different wards in the various +hospitals, I was going my rounds in the "Douglas," and after bestowing +the wines, jellies, custards and books to my old friends, I began to +look up the new patients.</p> + +<p>"Sister," I said to the kind Sister of Mercy, whose sweet, patient and +motherly face was bending over a soldier to speak her words of +comfort, "are there any Massachusetts boys in the new arrivals?"</p> + +<p>"No, dear; I think not, in this ward." Then she bent lower to catch +the whisper from her patient, and he pointed to the card at the head +of his little bed. She looked, and answered again: "Oh, yes, here is +one: Paul Ashton, 16th Mass., Co. B."</p> + +<p>I approached the bed, and saw one of the noblest faces I had ever +beheld, but not that of a Northern boy, I thought; so proud and +dark—no, a true Southern face.</p> + +<p>"You from Massachusetts?" I exclaimed.</p> + +<p>A wan smile played around his pale lips for a moment. He saw my +surprise, and answered:</p> + +<p>"No, from Mississippi; but in that regiment," pointing again to the +little card.</p> + +<p>Here was a mystery, and one I could not solve just then. He was too +weak to converse, but I made up my mind to devote myself to Paul +Ashton from that time until he was convalescent, or, if God's will, +relieved from his sufferings. After sitting by his side until the +attendant came to dress his wounds, I bade him good-night, and +promised to see him in the morning.</p> + +<p>On my way out I met Dr. B. God bless him! for his kindness to our +boys. No woman ever was more gentle and patient. "Doctor," I +exclaimed, as he was hurrying by, "stop and tell me, how is Ashton +wounded? Is he very ill? Will he die?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, Mrs. H., three questions in one breath. Yes, he is very ill. +Three wounds in the right side and shoulder, which are draining his +life away. I fear he must die. Is he one of your boys? Do all you can +for him."</p> + +<p>"May I?" I replied.</p> + +<p>"Yes, my dear madam; and try to keep up his spirits. I give you leave. +Tell Sister L. He is a noble fellow—I am deeply interested in him."</p> + +<p>The next day found me much earlier than usual at the hospital. To my +great pleasure I found that Ashton had rested well, and was much +easier than any one expected he would be. He smiled and put out his +hand when I approached his bed, and motioned me to be seated. After +talking to him a few moments I found him looking at me very intently, +and soon he said:</p> + +<p>"Are you from the Bay State?"</p> + +<p>I replied: "Oh, no, I am a Southern woman. I am from Virginia."</p> + +<p>"I thought you did not look or speak like a Northern or Eastern lady. +Then, why are you interested in our boys? Are you with us in feeling? +Can you be a Union lady?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, my boy, I am with you hand and heart. I cannot fight, but I can +feed, comfort and cheer you. Yes, I am a Southern woman and a +slaveholder. Now, I see you open your eyes with wonder; but, believe +me, there are many like me, true, loyal woman in the South; but my +particular interest in our regiments is, my father is a native of +Boston; but I love all our brave boys just the same."</p> + +<p>A look of much interest was in his face, which I was so glad to see, +being so different from the total apathy of the day before.</p> + +<p>"You are the first lady from Virginia that I have met who was not very +bitter against us Yankees—it is really amusing to be called so, to a +Mississippi man. Do you not feel a sympathy for the South? Your +interest is with them. You against your State and I mine—we certainly +are kindred spirits," he smilingly said. "We think and feel alike. It +is not politics but religion my mother always taught me. Love God +first and best, then my country, and I have followed her precepts, at +a very great sacrifice, too. Sometimes in my dreams I see her looking +approvingly and blessing me."</p> + +<p>"Your mother, where is she?"</p> + +<p>He pointed up, and said:</p> + +<p>"Father, mother, both gone, I hope and trust to heaven. I am +alone—yes, yes, all alone now."</p> + +<p>I would not let him talk any more, and finding out from the attendant +what he most relished, I promised to see him the next day.</p> + +<p>I saw him almost every day for a fortnight. He grew no worse, but +very little, if any, better. On one occasion Dr. B. said:</p> + +<p>"I do not know what to make of Ashton. He ought to improve much +faster. My dear madam, set your woman's wits at work; perhaps we may +find a cure."</p> + +<p>"I have been thinking I would try to gain his confidence. I know he +has a hidden sorrow. I must, for his sake, probe the wound; but I +fancy it is in his heart."</p> + +<p>During my next visit I said:</p> + +<p>"I wish you would tell me something of your life; how you came to +enter the army; and, indeed, all you will of your Southern home."</p> + +<p>His face flushed, and he replied:</p> + +<p>"No, I cannot. Why should you want to know——"</p> + +<p>Then he stopped, hesitated and said:</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon. You have been so kind to me; it is due I should +comply; but not now; to-morrow; I must have time to consider and +compose my mind. To-morrow, please God, if I am living, I will tell +you; and you will see that I have a severer wound than good Dr. B. +knows of—one he cannot use his skillful hand upon."</p> + +<p>"Well, thank you—I would rather wait until to-morrow. I am anxious to +get home early this afternoon."</p> + +<p>On reaching his cot the next day, I saw Ashton was calm, but very +pale. I said:</p> + +<p>"Do not exert yourself this morning. I can wait."</p> + +<p>"No; sit nearer and I will tell you all."</p> + +<p>I give it to you, dear reader, as he gave it to me:</p> + +<p>"I told you I was by birth a Mississippian. My mother was from +Boston, the daughter of a wealthy merchant, who, failing in his +business, soon fell in ill health and died, leaving his wife and two +daughters almost entirely destitute. Mother, the youngest, was always +very fragile, and, having been reared in luxury, was poorly calculated +for a life of trial and poverty. However, she was urged by a wealthy +Southern planter to return with him to his home, and take the position +of governess to his little daughters, her friends all approving of +this offer, knowing that a Southern climate would improve her health; +so she became the inmate of Colonel Ashton's family, and soon was +beloved by the father and mother, as well as her pupils. I have heard +that neither the colonel nor his wife could bear her out of their +sight. She had been with them nearly a year, when the young son and +heir, Edgar Ashton, returned from his college. He soon followed the +rest, and was deeply in love with the governess. My mother was very +beautiful, possessing so much gentleness, with such a merry +disposition, that I have heard them say that grandfather used to call +her his Sunshine. The negroes said that she had a charm to make all +she looked upon love her. But when the son, their pride, declared his +intention of making May Everett his wife, it was met with a decided +objection by both parents. Impossible! marry a Northern teacher; he, +the son of Colonel Ashton—the heir of Ashton manor! preposterous! My +mother then prepared to bid adieu to them and return to her home, +never for a moment listening to the repeated petitions of her lover to +marry him. She would not go into a family where she was not welcome. +Her high-toned principles won for her additional love and respect. And +when the hour of parting came, the old colonel opened his arms, and +drew her to his heart, and exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"'Wife, we cannot give her up. Welcome your daughter.'</p> + +<p>"My mother, however, went home; but with the understanding that she +would return in a few weeks—as the wife of their son.</p> + +<p>"In two months she was again with them; and never a happier +household! In the second year of their marriage I was sent to them. My +grandparents made almost an idol of me, and from grandfather I used to +hear of his father's adventures in the Revolution. He inspired me with +a devotion to his country which was fostered by my mother. When I was +sixteen, my father was thrown from his horse and brought home to us +insensible, and lived with us but a few hours. My mother's health, +naturally very delicate, sank under this great affliction. She lived +only a year afterward, and I was left to comfort my grandparents, now +quite advanced in years. They would not hear of my going away again to +school, and engaged a private tutor—a young gentleman, a graduate of +Yale. I had been under Mr. Huntington's instructions four years when +the country began to be convulsed with the whispers of secession—one +State after another passing that miserable ordinance—my grandfather +said:</p> + +<p>"'Paul, my boy, if Mississippi goes out, I shall go, too—not only out +of the Union, but out of this world of sorrow and trouble. I cannot +live. I have felt my tie to earth loosening very fast since your +grandmother left me, and I feel I cannot live any longer if my State +shall be classed with traitors.'</p> + +<p>"I have failed to tell you grandmother died in my eighteenth year. Mr. +Huntington, feeling sure of what was coming, left us for his home in +Medford, never for one moment expressing to us any views on the +subject now engrossing all minds; and, when parting with him, I +whispered, 'If it comes, I am for my country! Look for me North within +a few weeks.' It did come, as you know; and when one of my aunts—now +both married—ran laughingly in, with a blue cockade pinned on her +shoulders, exclaiming:</p> + +<p>"'Father, we are out!'</p> + +<p>"She stopped in horror, and looked upon the calm, cold face. But the +spirit had fled. We know not if he had heard or not, but I trust he +had passed to perfect peace before his heart had been so sorely tried.</p> + +<p>Next to our plantation was the estate of one of the oldest, +wealthiest, and proudest families of the State. The daughter and I had +grown up together, and I loved her more than all and everything else +on earth. Her brother and I were very intimate—both having no +brother, we were everything to each other. He had mounted the Palmetto +badge, and was all for war. My mind was no longer wavering, since my +grandfather's death. I was going up North, and, after a short visit to +my mother's sister—the wife of a very influential and patriotic man +in Boston—I would offer myself to my government. Now, you will know +my sorrow.</p> + +<p>"I had expected to meet opposition, entreaties, reproaches, and +everything of that sort. So, preparing myself as well as I could, I +rode over to bid my idol good-by.</p> + +<p>"I met Harry first, and telling him I was going North, to leave +fortune, friends and everything for my country.</p> + +<p>"'What, Paul, desert your State in her hour of need? Never! You, a +Southern man? Your interests, your honor, are with us.'</p> + +<p>"Much passed between us; when he, laughingly, said:</p> + +<p>"'Go in and see sister; she will talk you out of this whim.'</p> + +<p>"I cannot tell you how she first coaxed, then argued, then chided me +with not loving her, and then came—oh, such contempt! You have no +idea of the trial to me. She talked as only a Southern girl talks—so +proud, so unyielding. And when I said:</p> + +<p>"'Let us part at least friends. Say God bless me, for the sake of the +past!'</p> + +<p>"'No,' she said, 'no friend. With a traitor to his State, or a +coward—no, I will never say God bless you! and never do you take my +name on your lips from this day. I would die of shame to have it known +that I was ever loved by an Arnold! Go! leave me; and if you raise +your arm against the South, I hope you may not live to feel the shame +which will follow you.'</p> + +<p>"I met Harry again on the lawn, and he exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"'Good-by, Paul. Give us your hand. You are honest, and will sacrifice +everything, I see; but you are all wrong. God bless you!</p> + +<p>"And he threw his arms round me, and so I left them.</p> + +<p>"I cannot tell you how I suffered. It seems as if I have lived a +century since then. Did I not know the unbounded pride of a Southern +girl, I should doubt her ever loving me. I have never mentioned her +name since that day, and never shall. Now, my friend, you see I have +little to live for. Soon after my arrival in Boston the Sixteenth was +forming. I enlisted, to the horror of my aunt, as a private. My friend +would have procured me a commission, but I preferred to go in the +ranks and work my way up if I lived, and here is my commission, +received after you left yesterday. I brought my colonel off the field, +and was wounded when I went to get him. It is a first lieutenant's; +but I fear I shall never wear my straps."</p> + +<p>"Yes, you will. You are getting better slowly, but surely; and, my +friend, you must cheer up—believe 'He doeth all things well'—have +faith—live for your country. I feel that all will be well with you +yet. 'Hope on, hope ever.'"</p> + +<p>I went and saw Dr. B,; told him it was as I had thought.</p> + +<p>I gave him an idea of the trouble and left.</p> + +<p>I had become so much interested in Ashton that I had almost ceased my +visits to the other hospitals, except an occasional one to the "Armory +Square," where I had a few friends. I thought I would go over and make +a visit there this afternoon.</p> + +<p>I went into ward C, and, after seeing how well my boys were getting +on, I inquired after the lady nurse, Mrs. A., a widow lady, to whom I +had become much attached for her devotion to the soldiers.</p> + +<p>"She has gone home to recruit her health; has been away ten days; she +left the day after you were here last," replied one of the boys. "But +we have, just think, in her place a lady from the South—Miss or Mrs., +indeed I do not know which, for I have never heard her spoken of other +than Emma Mason. But here she comes."</p> + +<p>I had time to look at her for several moments before she came to the +patient I was sitting by. She might be seventeen or twenty-seven, I +could not tell. She was dressed in the deepest black—her hair drawn +tightly back from her face, and almost entirely covered by a black +net. Her complexion was a clear olive, but so very pale. Every feature +was very beautiful, but her greatest attraction was her large, dark +blue eyes, shaded by long black lashes. She came up smiling sweetly on +the wounded boy, and said:</p> + +<p>"You are looking quite bright, Willie; you have a friend, I see, with +you."</p> + +<p>I was then introduced to Emma Mason. When she smiled she looked very +young. I thought her as beautiful a girl as I had ever seen; but in a +few seconds the smile passed off, and there came a look of sorrow—a +yearning, eager gaze—which made her look very much older. I went +round with her to visit the different patients, telling her of my +great interest in the soldiers, and trying to win her confidence. I +was very anxious to know something of her history, but I could gain +nothing; and, giving it up in despair, I bade her good-evening, and +was leaving the ward when she called me and said:</p> + +<p>"Will you be kind enough to notice among the soldiers you may meet +from Boston, and if you find this name let me know immediately?"</p> + +<p>I took the card and read, "Paul Ashton, 16th Mass. Vol." I started, +and was about telling her where he was, when I was stopped by seeing +the deathly pallor of her face.</p> + +<p>She said, scarcely above a whisper:</p> + +<p>"Is he living?"</p> + +<p>I said I was only about to tell her I felt sure I could hear of him, +as I knew many of that regiment. I felt that I must not tell her then. +I must find out more of her first.</p> + +<p>She looked disappointed, and said:</p> + +<p>"I heard that regiment was in the last battle. Have you seen any since +that time? I am deeply interested in that soldier; he was my only +brother's most intimate friend."</p> + +<p>I told her I should go the next day, probably, to the "Douglas," and +if I had any tidings I would let her know. And so I left her, anxious +to be alone, to think over and plan about this new development in +Ashton's history. Who was she? Could she be his lost love? Impossible! +This nurse in a Union hospital! No, never! She must be down in her +Southern home. What should I do? Go tell Ashton? No, that would not do +yet. So I worried about it, and at last I decided I would sleep on it, +and my mind would be clearer for action in the morning.</p> + +<p>I could not divert my mind from the idea that it must be the girl +whose name I had never heard.</p> + +<p>Next morning my mind was made up, I went over to see Ashton; found +him in poorer spirits than ever. I sat down and tried to cheer him up. +He said:</p> + +<p>"I feel more miserable this morning than ever in my life before. I +have a furlough for thirty days, but I do not care to take it. I am as +well here as anywhere."</p> + +<p>I said: "I have often found that the darkest hours are many times +followed by the brightest. Cheer up. I feel as if you would have some +comfort before long, and see! Why, here you have a bouquet with so +many 'heart's-eases' in it. Heaven grant it may be a token of coming +ease and happiness. Who gave these to you? It is rarely we see them at +this season."</p> + +<p>"Sister L. gave them to me; they came from the greenhouse."</p> + +<p>I told him I should see him again that afternoon, and taking my leave, +went over to see the nurse at the armory. She came quickly forward to +see me, and said:</p> + +<p>"Have you any news——"</p> + +<p>"I have heard of him; he was in the battle and very severely wounded, +but living when my friend last heard of him."</p> + +<p>"When was that? Where is he?" she exclaimed, hurriedly. "You know +more, I can see; please tell me."</p> + +<p>I answered her:</p> + +<p>"I will tell you all, but I must beg of you a little confidence in +return. I saw him myself, and helped to nurse him—was very much +interested in him; he was terribly ill and is now very, very weak—his +recovery doubtful. He has told me much of his past life. Now, will you +not tell me what he is to you, for I see you are deeply moved?"</p> + +<p>"Did he tell you anything of the girl who drove him off without a +kind word—heaping upon him reproaches and wounding his noble heart +to the core? If he did, it was I. Oh, how I have suffered since! Even +when I accused him of cowardice and treachery, in my heart I was proud +of him. Oh! tell me where he is, that I may go to him. I have been +looking for him every moment since the battle. Take me, please?"</p> + +<p>"He is at the 'Douglas,' but very sick; I saw him not two hours ago. I +fear any sudden shock, even of joy. You are never absent from his +mind: he has never mentioned your name, but he has told me much. Now, +tell me, will you not, how it is you are here? And then we most devise +a plan to take you to him without too great a shock."</p> + +<p>She said:</p> + +<p>"These black robes are for my brother. He bade me do what I could for +the suffering and wounded on both sides, and find Paul. I will give +you a letter I received written by him a few days previous to his +death. After you have read it you will then understand better why I am +here."</p> + +<p>And leaving the ward for a few moments she returned and handed me the +letter. The writing plainly told that the writer was very weak. I give +it to you, my dear reader, every word; I could not do justice by +relating in my own style:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Sister</span>—I am wounded, and must die. I have felt it for several +days. The doctor and the kind boys try to cheer me up, but I've +been growing weaker daily. The suffering in my breast is +terrible. I had a Minnie ball pass through my left lung. I have +been very much frightened about dying, and wanted to live; but +last night I had a dream which has produced a great change. Now I +feel sure I shall die, and am content. I am with the Union boys; +they are very kind. The one next me fanned me and rubbed my side +until I fell asleep last night, and slept better than I have +since I've been wounded. Now, darling sister, here is my dream: I +thought I had been fighting, and having been wounded, was carried +off the field and was laid under a large tree; after being there +a little while I felt some one clasp my hand; looking up, I found +Paul, He also had been wounded.</p> + +<p>He handed me his canteen, and while drinking I seemed to get +quite easy. There seemed to be a great mist all over us; I could +see nothing for a little while. Again I heard my name called, and +looking up, found the mist had cleared away, and our +great-grandfather (whom I knew well, from the old portrait, which +we used to be so proud of, father telling us he was one of the +signers of the "Declaration") was standing before me, but he did +not look smiling like the face of the picture; but, oh! so sad +and stern. In his hand he had a beautiful wreath of ivy, which +he, stooping, placed on the brow of Paul, saying, "Live, +boy—your country wants you;" and stretching forth his hand, he +drew me to a stand near him on which stood our old family Bible, +ink and pen. He opened to the births, and putting his finger on +my name, he raised the pen and marked a heavy black line over the +H, and was proceeding, when his hand was caught by our old nurse, +Mammy Chloe, who has been dead years, you know, who pointed over +toward the west of us, and there stood a large shining cross with +these words over it, "Unless ye forgive men their trespasses, how +can your Heavenly Father forgive you?" And coming up to me, put +forth her hand and beckoned me to follow her. Then the old +gentleman spoke and said, "Your blood will blot out your +disgrace;" and turning the leaf, he pointed to the "Deaths," and +I read, "On the 28th of September, 1862, Harry Clay Mason, aged +21;" and then I woke up. This is the 20th; I think I shall live +until that day. Now I bid you go carry mother to somewhere North, +to Paul's friends; they will be kind to her and try to comfort +her, and go you and devote yourself to the suffering soldiers, +and find Paul, if possible; he will live, I know; tell him how I +loved him, yet, and honored him, although I thought him wrong. +Tell him good-by. And to mother, try to soften this blow as much +as possible. Tell her I am happy now. I think God will pardon me +for my sins, for His Son's sake. There is a boy from my regiment +expecting to be parolled, and he has promised to deliver this to +you. Good-by. God bless you, darling. Lovingly,</p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Harry.</span></p> +<p>Fairfax, Va.</p></div> + +<p>I was much affected. After a few moments I said: "How long did he +live?"</p> + +<p>"He lived, seemingly growing much better, until the afternoon of the +twenty-eighth. He was then taken with hemorrhage and so passed away." +And pushing her hair back from her temples, she said:</p> + +<p>"These came the night I got that letter." And I saw the numberless +white hairs gleaming amid her raven locks. I said:</p> + +<p>"Come, we will go to him. I think you had better write a little note +to him; you know best what to say, but do not tell him you are here +just yet, but something to set his heart at peace; and I will tell him +it was given me by a Southerner I found in the hospital."</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said; "you are very thoughtful, that is just the thing."</p> + +<p>And she went into the ante-room, and soon came out, and giving me the +note, said:</p> + +<p>"You know all; read it."</p> + +<p>And I read: "Paul, forgive and love me again. I shall try to come to +you soon."</p> + +<p>So we proceeded to the "Douglas," and I went in, found Dr. B., told +him and asked if we might venture in. He thought better to break it +gently at first, and promising to stay near in case of being needed, +laughingly said to Miss Mason:</p> + +<p>"Now, if I was a doctor of divinity, I should be wishing to be sent +for."</p> + +<p>Leaving her in his charge, I went in.</p> + +<p>"Back so soon?" Ashton said. "How bright and cheerful you look!"</p> + +<p>I sat down and said, "Yes, I have some pleasant news; I have a letter +for you; I met with a Southerner who knew a friend of yours, who gave +me this for you. It may be from your aunt, and you may hear from your +lady love, possibly."</p> + +<p>He caught the letter, tore off the envelope, and read. I was +frightened—he never spoke a word or moved. Then, "Thank God!" burst +forth in heart-felt tones.</p> + +<p>I saw he was all right. I said:</p> + +<p>"You must now commence to think of her coming and being with you, for +it is some time since that person left the South, and you may look for +her any time. I was told that the family were intimate with Mr. Davis, +and they were to have a 'pass' North to find 'the son.' I then told +him I had wanted to prepare him, for she was really in Washington, and +I had met her—she had given me the note for him. He seemed to divine +all, and said:</p> + +<p>"Bring her to me. I am strong and well now."</p> + +<p>I sent the attendant to Dr. B.'s room, and in a few moments she was +beside him.</p> + +<p>"Forgiven!" she murmured; and, bending, pressed her lips to his pale +forehead, and taking his hand, she sat on the cot beside him. There +was little said, but</p> + +<p> +"Eyes looked love to eyes that spake again."<br /> +</p> + +<p>So they remained until the sun went down and it was getting quite +dark, when Dr. B. came in and said:</p> + +<p>"Ah, Ashton, you have a more skillful physician than I. She has done +more for you in five minutes than I have for as many weeks, I guess +you will take that furlough and commission now, Lieutenant Ashton."</p> + +<p>He took Dr. B.'s hand, and said:</p> + +<p>"Under God, doctor, by your skillful hand and great kindness, with the +attentions of the good friends here, I have been kept alive for this +day."</p> + +<p>Emma Mason bade him good-night, saying she must go over to her boys +again, and get her discharge from the surgeon in charge.</p> + +<p>In three days Ashton bade adieu to his friends in the "Douglas," and +with Miss Mason, Dr. B. and myself, he got into the carriage waiting, +directing the driver to stop at the residence of the Rev. Dr. Smith. +There they were united, and received our heart-felt congratulations, +and proceeded to the cars, which soon bore them to their friends +North.</p> + +<p>A few days ago a servant came to my room, bringing a card.</p> + +<p>I read: "Paul Ashton and wife."</p> + +<p>I almost flew down to them. They were on their way South to settle up +their property and provide for the old servants who remained there. +Paul had returned to the army and remained until the close of the war, +having reached the rank of colonel. He is looking very well. He has +been offered a commission in the regular service, but his wife says +his country had him when he was needed, but she must have him now. +They are taking with them the remains of poor Harry, to place beside +his father in their Southern home. His mother is now quite resigned, +and says she is only waiting God's will to meet her friends above.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="EARNEST_AND_TRUE" id="EARNEST_AND_TRUE"></a>EARNEST AND TRUE.</h2> + +<h3>BY FRANCES HENSHAW BADEN.</h3> + + +<table summary="center"> +<tr><td> +But still our place is kept and it will not wait;<br /> +Ready for us to fill it soon or late,<br /> +No star is ever lost we once have seen,<br /> + We always <span class="smcap">may</span> be, what we <span class="smcap">might</span> have been. +</td></tr> +</table> + +<p>"You have never loved me, Constance, or you could not thus calmly bid +me go, without one word of hope for the future. Only say that I may +some day call you mine, and I will win a name that you will not blush +to bear."</p> + +<p>"Would to Heaven I could, Ernest; but I can see no hope of my father's +relenting. You heard how determined he was never to consent to my +union with any one save Gerald. You say I have never loved you! +Believing this, it will not be so hard for you to leave me. It is +useless prolonging this interview! Every moment brings an increase of +agony, making it harder to part. Bid me good-by, say God bless me, and +go quickly, if you have any mercy for me."</p> + +<p>"Listen just for a moment more! Oh, my darling, forgive my hasty +word; but, Constance, if your love was as devoted and single as mine +you would not thus resign one who loves you only of all the world; no +one shares my heart with you. I know you love me, but not as I would +be loved, or you would leave father and mother and cling to me. What +right has your father, or any other father, to blast his child's +happiness? Heed him not, love, but come with me. I will never let you +feel a single regret. I will love you more than all their love +combined. Nay, do not turn aside—you must hear me. Think what you are +doing! wrecking my happiness, casting me forth, without hope, to drag +out a miserable, useless existence. I may be cursed with long life. +Constance, darling, come with me! With your parents it will only be a +short grief—disappointed ambition—and, at the most, only the +thwarting of their proud hopes. They will soon get over it; but even +if they should not, in all human probability they have not the length +of days to suffer that we have. Bid me hope!"</p> + +<p>"Ernest, Heaven only knows what a severe trial this is to me. Yet your +words only strengthen me in my duty. It is true, as you say, my +parents are old. Can I grieve and wring their careworn hearts? No, no! +What recompense can a child make her parents for all their unselfish +love, and constant watching over, and providing for, from the first +feeble baby days, to the time when they could, if willing, return all +this, by simple duty; obedience to their will. Think, Ernest, how, in +my days of illness, my mother watched over and soothed me. The long, +sleepless nights spent over my cradle—praying God to spare her +child—for what? to prove an ungrateful one! Oh, no! I could look for +no blessing on our union if I should be deaf to the pleading of my +parents, and heedless of God's own command.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps some time hence they may think differently. Then, if you +have not sought and won another, we may be happy. One thing you may +rest assured of, I shall never wed Gerald Moreton, or any other. I +obeyed my father in resigning you, but cannot perjure myself by taking +the marriage vows, even at their command. Do not leave me in anger, +Ernest. Let your last look be of kindness and forgiveness for the +sorrow I cause you. Now, a long look into your eyes, to engrave them +forever on my heart. Good-by—God bless you, Ernest."</p> + +<p>She held out her arms, and was clasped in a long, last embrace. +Breaking away, she was soon lost to view among the deep shadows of the +garden.</p> + +<p>"And this is the end! This is woman's love! Mere filial duty, I should +say. Well, well, a final adieu to all thought of love. In future I +devote myself to ambition, wedded only to my profession, in hope that +in this I shall not meet with another such reward."</p> + +<p>Constance Lyle was the only child of wealthy parents. Ever since her +infancy her father had cherished the hope of uniting her with his +ward, Gerald Moreton, the son of a very dear friend. Gerald was left +an orphan before he had reached his tenth year. When Mr. Moreton, on +his deathbed, placed his son under the care of his old friend, he +intimated his desire that some time in the future, the little +Constance (scarcely then four years old) should bear the name of +Moreton. To this Mr. Lyle readily agreed. The little Gerald was truly +a noble boy, and he was much attached to him, years before having lost +a son of the same age; this child of his dearest friend had, in some +degree, served to fill the aching void. Again, Gerald's prospects were +very brilliant; but, to do Mr. Lyle justice, more than all this was +the desire to please his friend, to make some amends for the past. In +years gone by these two men had been rivals for the love of +Constance's mother.</p> + +<p>Moreton was a high-minded, noble fellow, and when he became sure that +young Lyle was the favored one, not a thought of ill-feeling entered +his heart against his friend; but going to him, with his usual candor +and generosity, he said:</p> + +<p>"I shall go away for a while. It will be rather too much for me to +bear witnessing your happiness, just yet. I shall get over it in time, +though. Heaven bless you, dear friend, and grant you happiness and +prosperity. No one will pray for your welfare more sincerely than +myself. Bid her good-by for me. After a while I'll be back, to stand +god-father to some of your little ones, perhaps."</p> + +<p>He remained away three years; and then returned home, bringing with +him a fair, fragile little creature, who remained with him scarce two +years; leaving the little Gerald to comfort and console the bereaved +man, and be a loving reminder of the gentle little dove, who had loved +him so dearly, and then winged her flight above, to watch over and +pray for the coming of her loved ones.</p> + +<p>So it was that Mr. Lyle would look with no favor, or even patience, on +any suitor. Even when Constance herself pleaded for Ernest Ellwood, +telling him she could never love Gerald other than as a brother; and +if he would not give her to the one she loved, that she would remain +with them, but would never wed where she could not love.</p> + +<p>Still he remained firm in his determination to give her to his +friend's son or no one.</p> + +<p>Years passed by—but she continued as firm and determined in her +resolve as her father in his.</p> + +<p>Gerald, like his father, was a noble fellow. He loved Constance, but +when he found his love was a source of grief to her, he began to set +himself to work to devise means of rendering her path in life rather +more pleasant. She did not murmur at her self-sacrifice; this she +considered her duty; but the constant and continual entreaties for the +marriage wore upon her, and made her life almost miserable.</p> + +<p>Gerald told Mr. Lyle he must beg to resign all pretensions to +Constance; that upon examining his heart, he found out that it was as +a sister he loved her, and was not willing to render her unhappy by +making her his wife. If his father were living he would not wish it. +That he thought a promise, made to the dead, had much better be +broken, than kept by making the living miserable.</p> + +<p>So, to carry out his views, he left home for a summer trip. After +being absent three months, he wrote to Constance that he had decided +to remain a while longer; and at the end of another month came a +letter to Mr. Lyle, saying that he was about to be married—desiring +certain business arrangements to be made—and ending by the remark, +that he knew this marriage would not meet with the cordial approval of +his kind guardian, and for this he was truly sorry; but was more than +compensated for this by the knowledge that he had the best wishes of +his dear sister, Constance, and begged Mr. Lyle to try and render her +happy, in return for her unhappiness during the last ten years.</p> + +<p>This was a dreadful blow to Mr. Lyle, and he declared that if Ernest +Ellwood had not crossed their path that his dearest hopes would not +have been thwarted. Not for a moment did he relent.</p> + +<p>Constance had heard nothing from Ernest since she parted from him, +except once, about five years after. She picked up a Western paper, +and saw his name mentioned as one of the rising men of —— State—an +extract from a political speech made by him—and finally the +prediction of a brilliant career for this young man, whose talents and +eloquence were placing him before the people, who, even now, in so +young a man, recognized a master-spirit; and in all probability very +shortly he would speak for his adopted State in the halls of the +national Capitol.</p> + +<p>This slip was cut out and treasured by her—and once when her father +was grumbling and predicting bad luck to his evil genius, as he called +him, she brought forth and displayed, with a grateful heart, this +notice to prove she had not loved unworthily.</p> + +<p>Her father listened with interest to the extract from the speech and +the comments relative to the speaker. He had been considerable of a +politician, and as Ernest was of the same party as himself, he felt +really glad of his brilliant prospects.</p> + +<p>"In all probability he is married long ago, and has almost, if not +quite, forgotten you, Constance. At any rate, you see your sending him +off did no hurt. Men are sensible; they don't die of love. Something +more formidable, in the way of disease, must attack to carry them off, +or affect their minds, either. Yes, yes, child, be sure he has +transferred his affections long ago," remarked the father.</p> + +<p>"I cannot tell, father. Perhaps it is so; you can judge of man's +constancy better than I. If I judged him, it would be by my own heart, +then I should be sure he is not married. I think that when alone, and +freed from the care and toil of business, or, at rest from his +studies, that his mind wanders back to the girl of his love. No! no! +he has not forgotten me."</p> + +<p>One after another of the joyous new years rushed into the world, +passing on to maturity, growing older, and finally passing out, +leaving the gentle, submissive girl, as they had found her, devoting +herself to her father.</p> + +<p>Now disease had settled on Mr. Lyle. For years he had been an invalid, +nervous, fretful and impatient. No one but Constance could suit him. +Not even his wife. Her gentle hand, only, could soothe his suffering. +Her soft, loving tones alone would quiet his paroxysm of nervousness.</p> + +<p>Time passed on, and Death entered the home of Constance, not to +disturb the long-suffering father, but taking the apparently healthy +mother. Swiftly, quietly, and without suffering, she passed from her +slumbers to the home of her Maker.</p> + +<p>This was a terrible trial for the poor girl. She almost sank under it; +but in a little while she rose above her own sorrows. Bowing with +submission to the will of God, she now felt why it was her young hopes +had been blasted. Before, all was dark; now, she saw plainly. She +alone was left to cheer and solace the stricken father. No longer a +single regret lingered in her heart. All was well. A holy calm broke +over her, and she became almost happy, blessed with an approving +conscience.</p> + +<p>Suffering at last softened the stern nature of Mr. Lyle, and opened +his eyes to the value of his child. He knew her devotion, her patient, +untiring attendance on him, and he felt what a blessed boon she had +been to him, and how illy he had merited so much loving kindness!</p> + +<p>On one occasion he said:</p> + +<p>"My daughter, I do not deserve such a blessing as you are to me. I +have been very harsh and relentless, and caused you much sorrow; would +that I could call back the past, and act differently. Heaven only +knows how grieved I am for my mistaken views and actions."</p> + +<p>Going up, and putting her arms around him, she replied:</p> + +<p>"Do not worry about the past, father dear, nor about your daughter. +Believe me, I am happy with you; and have no regrets. I would not be +absent from you during your suffering, even to be with him."</p> + +<p>"Where is Ernest? Do you love him still?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I only know (through the papers) that he has been elected to +Congress. About my still loving him, depends entirely on whether I +have the right to do so; he may have given that to another," she +replied, and called to her beautiful lips a sweet smile, to try to +convince him, more than her words would, that she was content, +whate'er her lot should be.</p> + +<p>It is a few weeks after the meeting of Congress. All Washington is on +the <i>qui vive</i> about the passage of the —— Bill, and the appeal to be +made in its favor by the new member from ——.</p> + +<p>Constance Lyle stands before her mirror. More than usual care has she +bestowed on her toilet.</p> + +<p>We will play eavesdropper, dear reader, just for once, and peep over +her shoulder, to view the changes time has made. No longer the fresh, +brilliant beauty of her youthful days. Constant confinement in the +sickroom, care, and anxiety have faded the roses that used to bloom on +her cheeks; but to us she is more charming, this pale beauty, with her +gentle dignity, and sweet, patient look, than the bright, merry girl +of years ago.</p> + +<p>There is something about her which makes us think we would like ever +to be near her, side by side, to pass on life's pathway, feeling sure +her beauty would never wane, but wax purer and brighter as she neared +her journey's end. Listen! She says:</p> + +<p>"How strange my birthday should be the one for his speech! This day I +shall see him for the first time for fifteen years. Yes, I am +thirty-three to-day, and this is the anniversary of our parting!"</p> + +<p>Leaving her room she is soon by her father's side.</p> + +<p>"I'll have to go early, father, dear. It will be very crowded, and +Gerald is waiting. His wife is going to stay with you during my +absence."</p> + +<p>"How well you look, my daughter! Why, really, you are getting young +again!"</p> + +<p>"This is my birthday, father. I am a maiden of no particular age to +the public, but I whisper in your ear privately," she joyously said; +and, suiting the action to the word, bent down, whispered, kissed him, +and was gone.</p> + +<p>"How time flies! But she is still very beautiful. Heaven grant my +prayers may be answered. She deserves to be happy; and when I am gone +she will be very lonely, and then feel keenly my harsh treatment," he +murmured.</p> + +<p>Wearily passed the hours until he heard her light step on the stairs. +She came in. He thought there seemed a shadow on her face, but she +came forward, and said, pleasantly:</p> + +<p>"Well, father, you are likely to keep your daughter. I heard Ernest. I +had not expected too much; he was grandly eloquent. He has altered in +his looks; he seems much older, and is quite gray; mental work and +hard study, he says."</p> + +<p>"Then you saw him, and spoke to him! What do you mean by saying I +shall keep you? Is he mar——"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she replied, before he had finished his question. "He +introduced me to his daughter, a little miss of about twelve; so you +were right when you said that men were too sensible to suffer for or +from love. He must have married in two years after he left us. Gerald +left little Constance and me in the library, and went and brought him +to see us. We were with him only a very short time, when he was sent +for. He excused himself, and bade us good-day. Now, father, I will +remove my wrappings, and order dinner."</p> + +<p>Day after day passed on, and Constance had schooled herself to think +of Ernest only as a happy husband and father. She did not blame him +for taking a companion. He was away from all kindred and friends, and +she had given him no hope to induce him to wait through all these +years for her.</p> + +<p>One day, just a week after their meeting at Congress, she was sitting +reading to her father, when a servant entered, and handed a card. She +read, Ernest Ellwood!</p> + +<p>Paler for a few moments, and tightly pressed were the sweet lips. She +did not rise from her seat, until she had communed with her heart. +Now, she thought, I must call up all my fortitude and self-control, +and prove to Ernest, to my father, and, more than all, to myself, that +my heart is not troubled!</p> + +<p>"Father," she said, "Ernest is below. He is waiting, probably, to +inquire after you. I told him you had long been an invalid. Will you +see him?"</p> + +<p>"I would rather not, darling, unless you wish it. Go down a while, and +if he must come up, let me know first."</p> + +<p>Slowly she descended the steps, passed through the long hall, and +entered the drawing-room, advancing with quiet dignity to welcome the +distinguished representative.</p> + +<p>He listened a moment to her words, so calm and cold; then, clasping +her in his arms, he drew her down beside him, and said:</p> + +<p>"Oh, my darling! thank Heaven, I find you still Constance Lyle!"</p> + +<p>She tried to draw herself away from his side, but his arms held her +tightly, and his hand clasped hers. His eyes were gazing so earnestly +and lovingly in hers, as in by-gone days. She tried to speak, but he +said:</p> + +<p>"Nay, my beautiful love, you must not move or speak until you have +heard me through, and then I shall await your verdict. I know you +think it so strange that I have not been to you before. I have been +the victim of a miserable mistake. The day I entered this city I +walked past here to catch a glimpse of you, perhaps. As I neared the +door, I beheld seated on the steps that pretty little girl that I +afterward saw with you. I stopped, spoke to her, and asked her name. +Constance, she told me, and her father's, Gerald. Oh, my love, the +long years of suspense were ended to me then! I cannot tell you how +dark the world seemed to me then. I struggled on, however, with my +sorrows. Then I met you. Your being with Gerald and having the little +one with you only too truly proved that my conjecture was right. I saw +you, as I believed, the happy wife of Gerald, and knew no difference +until this morning. When I met him then, he stopped and urged me to +come and see him. I asked after his wife, and remarked that time had +changed her but very little, when, to my amazement, he said he did not +know I had ever met Mrs. Moreton. Then came the explanation. I parted +with the noble fellow only a few moments ago, and here I am now. Tell +me, love, that all my waiting—never wandering from my love for you +for an hour, has not been in vain. Speak, love!"</p> + +<p>"Ernest Ellwood, what mean you by speaking to me thus? Allow me to +rise. Your mind is certainly very much affected. Nothing but insanity +can excuse this language to me. I will order the carriage to convey +you home to your wife and daughter."</p> + +<p>"My wife—oh, yes, now I know. Gerald told me. We have all been very +busy blundering. My darling, I have no wife or daughter. Louise is +only mine by adoption. Her father was my dearest friend. This little +one was placed in my arms, an orphan, when only three years old—and +she knew no parent but myself. Can I go to your father, love?"</p> + +<p>She no longer tried to release herself from his arms. Lower and lower +drooped the beautiful head until it was pillowed on his breast. He +felt her heart throbbing against his own, and almost bursting with its +fulness of joy. He was answered—rewarded for all the years of +waiting.</p> + +<p>At length she raised her head. In her eyes he saw all the love of +years beaming there.</p> + +<p>"At last, my Ernest," she said. "I must go to father first and prepare +him to see you."</p> + +<p>Springing lightly up the stairs, she entered the room and stood beside +her father's armchair.</p> + +<p>He saw her beaming look, and said:</p> + +<p>"What is it, Constance? What has brought this great joy to you? You +look so happy."</p> + +<p>"Father, we have all been under a great mistake. Ernest has never been +married. That was his adopted daughter. He is waiting to see you; may +I bring him up?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes. Thank God! my prayers are answered."</p> + +<p>In a few moments she stands before him, with her hand clasped in +Ernest's.</p> + +<p>"Here I am again, Mr. Lyle, as in years gone by, pleading for your +blessing on our love. May I have her now, after all these years of +waiting?"</p> + +<p>"Ernest Moreton, I am profoundly thankful to Heaven for sparing me to +see this day. Welcome back to your home and old friends, and welcome +to the hand of my daughter. Take her; she has been a loving, patient, +dutiful child. She has brightened and cheered my path for a long, +weary time, and now I resign this blessing to you, and beg your +forgiveness for these long years, lost to both, which might have been +passed happily together."</p> + +<p>"Not resign, but only share with me, this blessing; she shall never +leave you, sir," replied Ernest.</p> + +<p>"Father, do not speak of years lost; they have not been. Ernest would +not have gone away, and devoted himself to study, if we had been +united then; just think then what his adopted State would have lost! +and I have been cheering you—think what you would have lost without +your little Constance! Nay, there is nothing lost; all is gain, and +simply by keeping God's command, 'Honor thy father and thy mother.'"</p> + +<p>"Let me come in to rejoice with you all, and make my speech," +exclaimed the noble Gerald, grasping the hand of each. "I say that +they are worthy of each other. He by his earnest, unwavering love for +his lady fair, and earnest, untiring endeavors to serve his State—who +has now won the respect and confidence of his countrymen—he alone is +worthy of the woman ever constant to her early love, yet never +faltering in her chosen path of filial duty."</p> + +<hr /> + + +<h2><a name="WHY_HE_WAS_MERCIFUL" id="WHY_HE_WAS_MERCIFUL"></a>WHY HE WAS MERCIFUL.</h2> + +<h3>BY FRANCES HENSHAW BADEN.</h3> + +<table summary="center"><tr><td> +Who made the heart, 'tis He alone<br /> +Decidedly can try us;<br /> +He knows each chord—its various tone;<br /> +Each spring—its various bias;<br /> +Then at the balance let's be mute—<br /> +We never can adjust it;<br /> +What's done, we partly may compute—<br /> + We know not what's resisted.—<span class="smcap">Robert Burns.</span> +</td></tr></table> + + +<p>"How is it, my old friend, that you are so very lenient to these young +thieves? Your sentence was very unexpected. Every one thought you +would, at least, send them to the State's prison for three or four +years. The young rascals were amazed themselves. The House of +Correction for six months has not much terror for them. Do you know +that it has become a common saying among the members of the bar that +our venerated and respected judge has a strong sympathy—in a word, a +fellow-feeling—for all young thieves! I think you will have to commit +a few of those gentlemen for contempt."</p> + +<p>"I do not wonder, at all, Mr. Archer, at any, indeed, every one, +thinking and saying as much," said Mrs. Morley, the wife of the judge, +just entering the room in time to hear the concluding part of Mr. +Archer's remarks. "Only a few months ago the judge could not possibly +help sentencing a boy to the State's prison; but, before the time for +entry came, he succeeded in getting his pardon; and, more than this, +he has brought him here, into his own home-circle, with the idea of +reforming him."</p> + +<p>"My dear wife, have you any cause, so far, to think I shall fail? Has +not the boy proved grateful and worthy?" asked the judge, in a mild, +though very sad, voice.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes; but how you can have any patience with such characters, I +cannot imagine," answered his wife.</p> + +<p>"Sit still, Archer, if you have no engagement; I am going to tell my +wife a little story, which will probably explain my charity toward +those unfortunate youths that you have spoken of; and, indeed, all +such. You, as my oldest and most valued friend, shall share the +hearing, if you wish."</p> + +<p>"Many thanks for the privilege, with my deep appreciation for your +kindness in thinking of me thus," returned Mr. Archer, warmly, at the +same time resuming his seat.</p> + +<p>"The story I have to tell you came under my immediate observation. I +was quite well acquainted with the principal character.</p> + +<p>"Very many years ago, and not far distant from this city, lived an +orphan boy, scarce fifteen years of age—bereaved, at one cruel blow, +by a prevailing epidemic, of both parents, and left to the care of an +uncle (his father's brother), a hard, cruel man.</p> + +<p>"A few hundred dollars, quite sufficient, however, to support and +continue the boy's studies, for a few years, was left in the hands of +the uncle. But of this there was no proof—no will or last testament +was left.</p> + +<p>"Death came so swiftly there was little time for aught save an +appealing look from son to brother, and the pleading voice murmured:</p> + +<p>"'Be a father to my boy, Oh! deal justly, kindly towards him!'</p> + +<p>"In a very few days the sensitive mind of the poor boy too truly +perceived that he was not a welcome inmate. Before a month had passed +he was withdrawn from school; his love of study was discouraged; in +fact, made a source of ridicule; and his time so completely taken up +with hard work on the farm, there was no chance for aught else.</p> + +<p>"On one occasion George (we will call him) ventured a remonstrance +with his uncle—alluding to the money in his possession to be used for +George's education and support. Judge of his amazement and indignation +when the bad man denied having one dollar in trust for him, and ended +by calling him a pauper, and saying he would have to work for his +bread.</p> + +<p>"The future, there, was very plain to George; a life of +ignorance—nothing higher than a mere farm drudge. His mind was +determined against that. Privation, suffering, death, even, were +preferable. The next day found him a fugitive from injustice and +dishonesty—a lonely traveler on the path of life. Seeking Fortune, to +find and be treated by that whimsical goddess with good or ill. To be +smiled or frowned upon, to be mounted upon the triumphing waves, +rising higher and higher, until he had reached the pinnacle of Fame, +or drifted about, sinking lower and lower in the dark waters, at last +reaching the pool of Dishonesty, Despair, Death!</p> + +<p>"Ah! who could tell which fate would be his?</p> + +<p>"Oh, how I can sympathize with all such! looking back on my own +pathway to manhood; remembering the dangers, temptations and +numberless snares that youths have to encounter. In fact, to pass +through a fiery furnace! And how very few are they, that come forth, +unscarred, and purified!</p> + +<p>"Remembering this, I exclaim, 'How was I saved?' And then my heart, +almost bursting with gratitude, forces the words to my lips—by God's +mercy alone!</p> + +<p>"Taking with him a few favorite books—a change of linen—he bade +adieu to the home so laden with bitter memories.</p> + +<p>"A day's weary travel brought him to the city of L——. Here, for many +days, until the autumn came on, he managed to subsist—doing little +chores, carrying a carpet-bag or bundle—earning enough to sustain +life merely, and sleeping in the depot or market-house.</p> + +<p>"At length the cold days and colder nights came on; work was very hard +to find, and our poor boy's fortitude was severely tried.</p> + +<p>"The day of his trial, his direst temptation, came! For twenty-four +hours he had not tasted food. A cold, bleak night was fast +approaching. One after another of his books had gone to get a piece of +bread. Now nothing was left but starvation or—the boy dare hardly +breathe it to himself—or dishonesty!</p> + +<p>"He must have food somehow. Loitering about the depot, watching a +chance to earn a few pennies, he saw a gentleman alight from a +carriage, take out his pocketbook, pay the driver, and return it, as +he supposed, to his pocket.</p> + +<p>"It was almost dark, yet the eager eye of the hungry boy saw what had +escaped the driver's.</p> + +<p>"There, in that gutter, lay the surety against suffering for that and +many coming nights.</p> + +<p>"He was about to rush forward and secure the prize—the lost +pocketbook—but caution whispered, 'Be sharp! you may be seen.' And +then, with the cunning and slyness of an old thief—thus suddenly +taught by keen suffering—he sauntered along, crossing the gutter, +stumbled and fell; then put out his hand, covered and secured his +treasure, slowly arose, and feigning a slight lameness, he retraced +his steps towards the depot, entered the waiting-room, which he felt +sure would be unoccupied at that hour. Getting behind the warm stove +and close to the dim lamp, he opened the pocketbook—gold! notes! +tens, twenties! over a hundred dollars met his gaze! When had he seen +so much? His—all his! Had he not found it? Possibly he might have +overtaken the owner and restored it, but what was the use of throwing +away good luck! But already Conscience was at work. Turning over the +notes he found a little silken bag. Opening it, he drew forth a +miniature painting of a beautiful little girl, and on the back was +written:</p> + +<p>"'Our darling! three years old to-day.'</p> + +<p>"It was a lovely, angelic face. The boy was fascinated, spellbound by +it. Long he gazed. He grew very uneasy. His bosom heaved convulsively. +There were signs of violent emotion, and then burst forth the words:</p> + +<p>"'I have not stolen it. Who says so? I found it!'</p> + +<p>"Again he looks almost wildly at the picture; then whispers hoarsely:</p> + +<p>"'She says, "Thou shall not steal!" Can this be stealing? No—no, it +is not. It is luck. I am growing nervous from long fasting. Oh, +Heavens, how hungry I am! Bread, bread! I must have bread or die!'</p> + +<p>"Taking out a few small coins, he closed the pocketbook, putting the +little miniature in his bosom; then walked as swiftly as his failing +strength would allow; reached, and was about to enter, an +eating-house. At the door, he hesitated; and, drawing forth the little +picture, looked again at the baby-face. Now, to his eye, she has grown +older; and the face is so sad, with such an appealing look, which +speaks to his inmost heart.</p> + +<p>"The blue eyes were no longer the laughing ones of childhood; but, +oh! yes, it was really so—his mother's lovely, sad face was before +him! The same sweet, quivering lips, which seemed whispering so +earnestly:</p> + +<p>"'Thou shalt not steal!'</p> + +<p>"Thrusting the picture back to its hiding-place, he sank exhausted +from violent emotion and extreme weakness down on the stone steps.</p> + +<p>"Oh, the terrible struggle that was going on in that young breast!</p> + +<p>"The tearing pangs of hunger, the sharp stinging thrusts of conscience +were warring for the victory. Oh, those who have never known the pangs +of hunger can but poorly imagine that fearful struggle. At last, thank +God! Conscience triumphed. Honesty was victor.</p> + +<p>"Bursting into tears, he murmured:</p> + +<p>"'God forgive, and have mercy! Mother—little angel-girl smile on me!'</p> + +<p>"He returned the coin to the book, and clasping it tightly, replaced +it in his pocket.</p> + +<p>"'I will not touch one cent; and in the morning, if I live so long, I +will find some means to restore it to the owner—all but the little +picture—that angel-child has saved me, and I must keep her to watch +over me in the future.'</p> + +<p>"Slowly he arose, and was proceeding along the street, thinking he +could at least return and sleep in the depot, when a loud noise +attracted his attention.</p> + +<p>"A horse came dashing furiously along the street, drawing after him a +buggy in which was crouching a lady almost lifeless with terror. +Thoughts as swift as lightning flashed through his mind; he might save +her—what though he was trampled to death. Then he surely would be +relieved from suffering!</p> + +<p>"Summoning up all his little strength—then wonderfully increased by +excitement and manly courage—he rushed forward, faced the frightened +little animal, seized the reins, and was dragged some distance, still +holding firmly on—sustaining no injury save a few bruises—until he +succeeded in checking the wild flight. He saw his advantage; then, +with a kind voice, he spoke to the horse, patting and rubbing his head +and neck, until he became quite gentle. George knew the poor fellow +was not vicious but frightened at something he had seen or heard.</p> + +<p>"In a few moments he was joined by a crowd—among whom came a +gentleman limping and wearing a look of great anxiety.</p> + +<p>"George knew his thoughts, and said:</p> + +<p>"'The lady is not at all hurt, sir, only frightened.'</p> + +<p>"Several had seen the boy's action, and the owner of the horse soon +understood all about it. Many were his words of grateful +acknowledgment, and warmly shaking the boy's hand, he pushed into it a +half-eagle.</p> + +<p>"Looking at this a moment, again tempted by hunger, he hesitated—then +exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"'No, thank you, sir, I cannot take it. I am amply rewarded by having +succeeded in helping the lady.'</p> + +<p>"'Oh, do let us do something to prove our thanks. You look so weary, +and indeed, almost sick. Tell us how can we serve you,' said the lady, +who had not spoken until then.</p> + +<p>"These kind words brought tears to the boy's eyes; he tried to speak, +but his voice failed.</p> + +<p>"'There, my boy,' said the gentleman, 'it is growing very cold. We +live only a short way from here. I shall lead my horse, and you must +follow on. Supper is waiting for us; and after we have been refreshed +by a cup of hot coffee and something substantial, I shall insist on +being allowed to prove my thankfulness in some way or other.'</p> + +<p>"This kindness, George had neither the strength nor the will to +refuse.</p> + +<p>"Following on, he soon reached with them, the house of Dr. Perry. Such +a supper the famished boy had not seen since his parents' death, and +he did full justice to it.</p> + +<p>"The doctor's delicate kindness and cordial manner so won the boy, +that during the evening he told him his whole story, of his hard +struggles and dreadful temptation, and ended by producing the +pocketbook, and asking the doctor's advice as to the manner of +restoring it.</p> + +<p>"His kind friend suggested that there might be some clew to be found +inside as to whom it belonged.</p> + +<p>"Opening it, George carefully examined every part, and sure enough, +found a card with the probable name and address of the owner.</p> + +<p>"'Now, my boy, it is too late to-night, but in the morning you can go +find the place, inquire for the lady, and then ask "if her husband +left last night in the train for ——." If he did, then you may know +you have found the right person. Now about yourself, your future. What +are your ideas?'</p> + +<p>"'Oh! sir, if I could only earn enough to support me and get into the +City Academy, I should be the happiest boy alive. But it is so hard to +get a permit. I know I am quite far enough advanced to be able to keep +up with the boys. I could live on bread alone to be able to acquire +knowledge,' said the boy, with great earnestness.</p> + +<p>"'I am thankful, my young friend, I can now find a way to serve you. I +am one of the directors of that institution. You shall be entered, and +obtain all the advantages it offers.</p> + +<p>'"I see you are a proud boy and must feel that you are earning your +living. Come here to me every morning before, and after school has +closed in the afternoons. I wish you to take care of my office, and +keep my things in perfect order for me. What say you to this, and then +getting your meals with us?'</p> + +<p>"Oh! what joy was in that hitherto sorrowful heart.</p> + +<p>"Words could not express it; but clasping the doctor's hands, he +pressed them to his heart, and pointed upward.</p> + +<p>"His friend knew how grateful he was, and how very happy he had made +him.</p> + +<p>"Oh! had not God heard his prayer and speedily answered it. Mercy! how +freely, how bountifully, it was bestowed on him.</p> + +<p>"At last the words burst from his lips: 'Oh, God! I thank Thee.'</p> + +<p>"Early the following morn the pocketbook was restored; everything save +the miniature. This he kept, yet all the while feeling keenly that he +was guilty of a theft. Yet in this he did not feel that God was +offended. And often as he gazed at his little 'guardian angel,' as he +called her, he would say, smilingly:</p> + +<p>"She does not look reproachfully or seem to say, 'Thou shalt not steal +me.'</p> + +<p>"His mind was determined on the purpose to work every spare moment, +night and day, denying himself in every way, until he had secured +money sufficient to get the picture copied, and then return the +original.</p> + +<p>"Months passed on, prosperity smiled on him. His best friend, the +doctor, had full confidence in him. His teachers encouraged and +approved. All was well.</p> + +<p>"His miserable lodgings were before long resigned for a comfortable +room in the happy home of Dr. Perry, who insisted on this arrangement, +saying:</p> + +<p>"'George, your services fully repay me. My little son loves you +dearly, and has wonderfully improved in his studies, since he has been +under your charge. We want you with us as much as possible.'</p> + +<p>"Now, only one thing troubled him. The stolen picture.</p> + +<p>"At length he accomplished what once seemed an almost impossible +thing. The picture was copied and paid for; and George started to +return the original, the one that had rested in his bosom so long. How +he loved it!</p> + +<p>"It was a great sacrifice for him to give up that, and retain the +copy. However, he was somewhat compensated by the result of his +errand.</p> + +<p>"'Twas the fifth birthday of the little girl, and well he knew it. +Ascending the steps of her father's house, he rang the bell, which was +soon answered by a servant, and behind him came a bevy of little +girls, the foremost being the original of his picture, his little +'guardian angel.'</p> + +<p>"'More presents for me?" she asked, as he handed the precious parcel +into her tiny hands, extended for it.</p> + +<p>"'No, little one, for your father! Will you tell me your name?' he +asked.</p> + +<p>"'Oh, yes! My name is——'"</p> + +<p>"What was it?" eagerly asked Mrs. Morely.</p> + +<p>"Why are you so anxious? I'll punish you a little for interrupting me, +by not telling you," answered the judge, playfully.</p> + +<p>"Well, well, no matter; only go on," answered his wife, showing +plainly how deeply she was interested in his story.</p> + +<p>"The little one held her hand, saying:</p> + +<p>"'I am five years old to-day. Shake hands with me, Mr. ——I do not +know your name. Every one shakes hands and kisses me to-day.'</p> + +<p>"The youth clasped the dear little hand (held forth with the sweet +innocence of childhood and combined with a dignity well worthy of a +maid of twenty), and pressed on it a pure kiss, at the same time +breathing to himself the vow that, with God's blessing and help, to +win such a position that should enable him to seek and know this child +in her home. To try and make himself worthy of her; to win her love, +and in years to come to have her as his 'guardian angel' through life.</p> + +<p>"Often he would get a glimpse of her at the window or the door, this +giving him encouragement to work on.</p> + +<p>"Another year he was taken as assistant in the primary department of +the academy, this giving him a small income.</p> + +<p>"In two more years he had graduated with the highest honors.</p> + +<p>"His mind had been determined in favor of the law. His most ardent +wish to get in the office and read with the father of 'his little +love,' then a very distinguished lawyer.</p> + +<p>"This desire he made known to Dr. Perry, who readily encouraged it, +saying:</p> + +<p>"'I have no doubt, George, that you can succeed, backed by such +letters as we can give you. This gentleman is very kind and courteous, +and I think has no one with him at present. If I am not very much +mistaken, after you have seen and talked with him a short time, it +will be all right.'</p> + +<p>"And so it proved. In a few days more George was studying under the +same roof with the child of all his dearest, highest aspirations, +daily seeing and speaking to her.</p> + +<p>"Very soon the little maid of eight years became very fond of him.</p> + +<p>"George rose rapidly in the respect and esteem of his instructor, and +in a few months a deep and sincere attachment existed between them. +Subsequently our young friend entered the Bar, and was looked upon as +a man of fine promise; his career upward was steady, and finally, +after eight or ten years' practice, he was among the best of his day.</p> + +<p>"All these years of toil and study were for laurels to lay at the feet +of the one who had so unconsciously saved him and encouraged him +'onward.' Nothing now prevented the fruition of all his hopes. A +little while longer, and the living, breathing, speaking guardian +angel was all his own—blessing his heart and house, filling his very +soul with the purest love, the most profound gratitude to God, by +whose infinite mercy he was thus almost miraculously saved. And to +prove his gratitude and thankfulness, he has endeavored constantly to +win the erring from sin, to encourage and sustain the penitent, to try +and soften the hardened heart, and finally, as much as possible, to +ameliorate the suffering and punishment of the guilty and condemned, +truly knowing how very many are tempted as much and more than the hero +of my story, without the interposition of such a special Providence."</p> + +<p>The judge had finished. Mrs. Morely arose, and, passing her arm around +her husband, pressed her lips to his, earnestly and with deep emotion, +saying:</p> + +<p>"I long since recognized the noble, suffering boy of your story. My +husband, forgive my having ever questioned your actions or motives. In +the future I will try to prove my worthiness of your love by aiding +you in all your works of mercy."</p> + +<p>"My old friend, and of all the most respected and honored, if it were +possible your story would increase my veneration," said Mr. Archer, +grasping and pressing the judge's hand.</p> + +<p>"I would to Heaven there were more like you. If so, the temptations +and snares which surround the path of youth would be less terrible and +frequent—in a word, our whole community a little nearer, as God would +have us be."</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="MEMORABLE_THANKSGIVING_DAYS" id="MEMORABLE_THANKSGIVING_DAYS"></a>MEMORABLE THANKSGIVING DAYS.</h2> + +<h3>BY FRANCES HENSHAW BADEN.</h3> + +<p class="center"> +Shadow and shine is life, little Annie, flower and thorn.—<span class="smcap">Tennyson</span>. +</p> + + +<p>"Draw near me, William; I have so much I want to say, and now I feel +too truly how rapidly I am drifting away. When I close my eyes I see +so many happy, familiar faces, just a little way above, in the clouds. +They are beckoning me away. Tell me, what day is this?"</p> + +<p>"Thanksgiving, dear. But, pray, do not talk so. You are not going to +leave me yet, Mary. You will be, you are better," said her husband, +bending sorrowfully over her.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I will be well, soon. I shall not see to-morrow's sun. Promise +me, my husband, to try and make our boy feel as little as possible his +loss. Be to him what I have been. He is a strange, shy child, and +reminds me much of my own childhood. You scarcely know him, you have +been so completely absorbed in your business all the time. Be with +him, have him more with you. There is no need now of your being such a +slave to business. You are prospering, you will be rich. Oh! do not +let your heart become so encased in gold as to render it inaccessible +to all higher, better feelings. In years to come another will occupy +my place, but, oh! William, do not let those new ties come between you +and your first-born. Give me your hand, and with it the pledge to make +his welfare your first thought.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, dear! you have lifted a great weight from my heart. The +only doubt is cleared away. Here put our wedding ring on your finger! +How tight it fits. It will be a constant reminder of your pledge. Now +bring Willie to me."</p> + +<p>She gradually faded away during the afternoon, murmuring constantly +words of love and hope, the last intelligible being, "Love each other +for my sake."</p> + +<p>As the Thanksgiving sun went down the spirit of the gentle, +long-suffering Mary Archer joined the waiting ones above.</p> + +<p>William Archer truly loved his young wife, and sincerely mourned her +loss. Much of his time was spent with his son in trying to comfort and +divert the attention of the sorrowing boy from his great loss.</p> + +<p>Willie grew to love very dearly his father, hitherto almost a stranger +to him.</p> + +<p>Mary's words were soon verified. Riches grew rapidly around him, and +in less than two years he had filled her vacant place by another.</p> + +<p>With what an acute ear, jealous eye and aching heart he listened for +every word of endearment, watched every action of love that his father +bestowed on his new wife. Willie was not a boy to win the heart of a +stranger. Retiring, silent and sad, but possessing a brave, grateful +heart, he had to be known to be loved. The new mother did not care to +take the trouble to win the love of her husband's child.</p> + +<p>Years rolled on. Bright, cheerful, happy boys and beautiful, loving +girls grew round the father's heart, claiming and winning his love, +until poor Willie was almost forgotten, or only remembered when in +sight, and then always compared so unfavorably with the merry ones +around him.</p> + +<p>On one occasion some temporary ailment caused the father's hand to +become very much swollen, until the little wedding ring became very +tight and pained his finger much. His wife suggested its being filed +off. While debating on the necessity of so doing, there came memories +of the past. The long-forgotten pledge, the reminder of which was +making him feel it so keenly then. How had he fulfilled that promise?</p> + +<p>He would not have the ring removed. The swelling gradually passed +away. And William Archer determined to make amends for his past +neglect by future care and attention to his motherless boy.</p> + +<p>But these good intentions were put to a speedy flight by an +unfortunate accident which occurred that afternoon.</p> + +<p>Constant difficulties and childish quarrels arose between the little +ones, Willie always being the erring one, both with the mother and +nurses. If a child fell and was hurt, "Willie did it." In a word, the +poor boy was the "scapegoat."</p> + +<p>The children were playing in the large ground surrounding their +future elegant home. Willie was just twelve years old then. The nurse +was attending the younger ones. A little way from the house was a +large pond with a rustic bridge. Mr. Archer had frequently warned the +nurse of the danger in allowing the children to play about there. +Little Eddie, a merry, willful boy of six years, disregarding all +Willie's entreaties to come away, would amuse himself by "riding +horseback," as he called it, on the railing of the frail bridge, and +tossing up his arms with a shout of defiance and laughter, he lost his +balance and fell into the water, quite deep enough to drown a much +larger boy.</p> + +<p>A scream from the little ones brought the nurse to a knowledge of the +truth.</p> + +<p>"Eddie's in the water! Eddie's drowned."</p> + +<p>In a moment Willie's jacket was off, and he plunged in, and, before +the terrified nurse could collect her thoughts, brought out and placed +the insensible boy on the grass before her.</p> + +<p>Catching up the child, she rushed to the house, and, placing him in +his mother's arms, declared, to screen her own negligence, that:</p> + +<p>"Willie had pushed his brother in the pond."</p> + +<p>Willie, following on with the other children, entered the house, his +young heart proudly glowing with the knowledge of having done a good, +brave action, and saying to himself:</p> + +<p>"Now, this will surely please papa and make Eddie's mother love me a +little."</p> + +<p>Poor boy! He was met by stern eyes and harsh, upbraiding words, which +for a moment quite bewildered him.</p> + +<p>"You have killed your brother! You cruel, unnatural child," cried the +mother.</p> + +<p>"Out of my sight, boy," said his father, in low, threatening tones.</p> + +<p>"Oh, father! what do you mean? Let me tell you how it was."</p> + +<p>"Begone, sir!" and the enraged man gave poor Willie a blow which sent +him reeling into the hall.</p> + +<p>Staggering up to his room and throwing himself on the bed, he wailed +forth, in heart-rending tones:</p> + +<p>"Oh, mother, mother! I wish I was with you! Others can die, why not I? +No one loves me! Oh, I wish I were dead!"</p> + +<p>Tired and exhausted by the exertions in the water, he soon fell +asleep, and remained so until the sun was just rising next morning.</p> + +<p>All his sorrow, all the injustice of the night before came rushing +back to his mind.</p> + +<p>Hastily dressing himself, and then taking from his desk paper and pen, +he wrote:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>You have told me to get out of your sight, father. I shall. You +will never see me again. You need not search for me. I am going +to try and find my mother. When Eddie is better, you will hear +the truth, and feel your injustice to <span class="smcap">Willie</span>.</p></div> + +<p>Folding this, and leaving it on his table, he stole down and made his +way into town, not quite determined what to do. His first thought was +to seek the river, and in its quiet waters end his sorrows. Oh! why +would not death come to him?</p> + +<p>How quiet the city was! Usually so many were stirring about at that +hour. No market wagons or bread carts about. Oh, now he remembered, it +was Thanksgiving Day.</p> + +<p>On he walked, and then came in sight of the church where his mother +used to go, and then memories of all her holy teachings. Should he +find her if he attempted self-destruction?</p> + +<p>What could he do? He could not live on! Surely God would forgive him!</p> + +<p>Then he thought he would go once more into that church, and +then—Heaven only knows what next. Waiting in the park until church +time, he retraced his steps and reached the door just as the beautiful +hymn, "Come, ye disconsolate," rose into the air.</p> + +<p>Going in while the words</p> + +<p class="center"> +"Here bring your wounded hearts"<br /> +</p> + +<p>filled his ear, he crept up into the gallery and seated himself near +the choir.</p> + +<p>He grew somewhat calm, and his mind was, for the time, diverted from +his sorrows by the sight of a little girl seated beside one of the +singers—her mother, he thought.</p> + +<p>The happy, beaming face of the little one interested him very much.</p> + +<p>The services over, he followed close behind her, endeavoring to get +another look at her, wondering if she was ever sad! And, standing at +the church door as she was about to enter a carriage waiting, in which +a lady and gentleman were already seated, he thought:</p> + +<p>"Oh, what kind, loving parents she must have to make her look so +joyous!" His face wore a very sad expression. The little girl turned, +caught the sorrowful look bent on her, then stepped suddenly back, +went up to our Willie, and said, with the winning grace and perfect +simplicity of a child of six:</p> + +<p>"Here, little boy, you look so sad, I am very sorry for you. Take my +flowers."</p> + +<p>What angel-spirit, prompted by the will of its Divine Master, was it +that whispered to the little child to go comfort the sorrowing boy, +and with her kind sympathy and sweet offering to draw him back from +the dreadful precipice on which he stood, and lift him from darkness +and despair? His mother's, perchance. A bright light shone in the +boy's eye. His face was losing its despairing expression. The flowers +were speaking to his heart, whispering of Trust, Faith, Hope! Yes, he +must live on, brave all sorrows, trample down difficulties, and with +God's blessing try to live to be a good and useful man.</p> + +<p>"Why, Minnie! what do you mean? Why did you give those beautiful +flowers to that strange boy? I never saw such a child as you are!"</p> + +<p>"Mamma, I gave them to him because he looked so sad, just as if he +had not a happy home, or loving papa and mamma like I have. I felt so +sorry for him, and I wanted to tell him so. I'm sure he hasn't got any +mother, or he would not look so."</p> + +<p>"Never mind, Laura, my dear. Do not worry about Minnie. She is all +right. Let her act from the dictates of her kind, innocent heart," +returned the little one's father.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes! let her alone, and in years to come she will from the +dictates of her kind heart, be giving herself away to some motherless, +fameless and moneyless young man, I fear!" said the worldly and +far-seeing mother.</p> + +<p>"But not senseless man, I'll warrant you," was the laughing reply.</p> + +<hr class="small" /> + +<p>"Why, William, my dear boy, why can you not be satisfied to remain +here with me? Why do you wish to go away? 'Idle life!' 'Making a +living and do some good!' Humph, sir! you need not be idle. Read to +me; ride with me. As for your living, sir, I made that for you before +you were born; and now I intend you shall enjoy it. Now, my boy, my +son in all my heart's dearest affections, stay with me. Wait until the +old man is gone; then you will have time enough to be useful to +others."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Lincoln—uncle, father!—yes, more than father—your wish must be +mine. Did you not, fifteen years ago, take in a poor, wretched, +friendless, homeless boy—bless him with your care and protection, +educate, fulfill all his brightest hopes by giving him a profession, +which will not only make him independent, but enable him to help and +comfort others. Let me prove my gratitude in any way."</p> + +<p>"Come, come, do not talk of gratitude. Oh, my boy, if you only knew +what deep joy it has afforded me, having you here. I will tell you +now, William, why it was I so readily opened my heart and home to the +little wanderer I found that Thanksgiving afternoon so long ago. When +I first looked into your eyes there was a strange, familiar expression +about them that aroused my interest. Upon questioning you I found that +the son of the only woman I had ever loved was before me! My heart +yearned to help you; otherwise I should have relieved you from present +want, and then informed your father of your whereabouts. Yes, my boy, +the love I bore your mother was never transferred to another woman. +Your father and myself were her suitors at the same time. He proved +the fortunate one. Having you with me all these years has been a great +solace; and now say no more about gratitude. Just love me, and stay +with me."</p> + +<p>And Uncle Lincoln added, humorously:</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I may be doing some good by preventing some harm. I'll keep +you from practicing and experimenting on some poor creature. Oh, you +young doctors are always very anxious to make a beginning. 'Pon my +word, I have quite forgotten to open my little Minnie's letter. Coming +here to see her uncle, and will be with us to-morrow. I'm glad, very +glad. Well, it is rather strange that the two I love best in the world +should not know each other. It has happened that you have been off at +college or attending lectures each time she has been here. Guard well +your heart, boy. Every one loves her, and she no one better than her +parents and old uncle. Much to her mother's regret, she has refused +the finest offers in town. She does not care a mote for the title of +'old maid' with which her mother often threatens her. She is +twenty-one, and has never been in love, she says."</p> + +<p>"I think I am quite safe, sir. I am not at all susceptible, and it is +not likely that a young lady of her position in society and of such +beauty will cast a thought on me."</p> + +<p>The next day the old gentleman had the pleasure of introducing those +he loved so well; and, to his infinite delight, saw his darling Minnie +had certainly made a desired impression on his young <i>protégé</i>.</p> + +<p>"Here he is, Minnie! the boy who stole half my heart away from you. I +do not know how you will settle it with him, unless you take his in +pay."</p> + +<p>Often during the evening Uncle Lincoln noticed Will's gaze lingering +on his niece, and there was a softer light than usual in his fine +eyes; but, to his great regret, his boy did not appear to his usual +advantage. He was very silent, and his mind seemed absent—far away.</p> + +<p>And so it truly was. In the lovely girl before him William Archer +beheld the joyous child who, on that dark day, spoke so kindly and +saved him from—he dreaded to think what!</p> + +<p>Uncle Lincoln rubbed his hands and chuckled merrily to himself. +Everything was working to his entire satisfaction. These two +impenetrable hearts were growing wonderfully congenial, he thought.</p> + +<p>A few days before Minnie's visit was concluded, William brought out +and placed in her hands a bunch of withered flowers; told his story of +how, long years ago, her sweet sympathy had cheered his desolate heart +and made him feel that there was still love in the world, then so dark +to him; that her kind action had awakened in his almost paralyzed mind +better thoughts, and let him know the only way to gain peace and +happiness, and, finally, meet his mother, was in living on—putting +his trust and faith in God's goodness and mercy!</p> + +<p>And then he told his love and gained hers; and, with her dear hand +clasped in his, stood waiting Uncle Lincoln's blessing!</p> + +<p>"Minnie might do very much better," said the aspiring mamma; "but it +was Uncle Lincoln's wish."</p> + +<p>So the next Thanksgiving was to be the wedding day.</p> + +<hr class="small" /> + +<p>In a luxuriously-furnished apartment, surrounded by everything that +contributes to make life pleasant, sat an old man.</p> + +<p>Every now and then he would raise his bowed head from the clasped +hands, gaze anxiously around the room, and then, with a deep sigh, +relapse again into his attitude of grief and despair. At last he +speaks:</p> + +<p>"Thanksgiving night again, and, for the first time in fifteen years, +she has failed to hover round me, and I have not heard the sighing +voice inquire: 'Where is my boy? How did you keep your promised word?' +Oh! perhaps the mother has found her child. He may be with her now. +Oh! I would give everything—my poor, miserable life—to recall that +terrible day's injustice. My brave, noble boy! and how were you +repaid? Oh! I have suffered terribly for all my neglect and wrong of +my motherless boy! All gone from me, all the healthy, beautiful +children; all taken away! We were not worthy of those precious gifts. +God took them to himself. Now, what comfort do all these riches bring +me? Nothing! nothing! and my poor, childless wife! How bitterly she +has repented her wrong!</p> + +<p>"Oh, Willie! Willie, my boy! Where are you now?"</p> + +<p>"Here, father, here! kneeling, and waiting for your love and +blessing."</p> + +<p>"Am I dreaming? Oh! cruel dreams! I shall awaken, as often before, and +find how false you are!"</p> + +<p>"No, it's no dream, father! Give me your hand. Now, you feel your +erring boy is back beside you, praying your forgiveness for all these +years of silence—causing you so much sorrow!"</p> + +<p>The old man was clasped to his son's bosom. Long he held him thus, +while a sob of joy burst from the father's thankful heart.</p> + +<p>"Father, speak to my wife; you have another child now. She it was who +brought me back to you this blessed day. This, the anniversary of my +mother's death! also of the day of my greatest peril, is now the +happiest of my life—my wedding day, and restoration to my father's +heart!</p> + +<p>"Where is my stepmother? I would see and try to comfort her. Oh! let +this day be one of perfect reconciliation. Let us make it a +thanksgiving from the inmost heart."</p> + +<p>And now may we all, who have aught of ill dwelling in our hearts, go +and be of kindly feeling one toward the other again. Let not the +coming Thanksgiving's sun go down on our wrath. Let it not be merely a +thanksgiving in words—a day of feasting—but a heart's feasting on +peace and good will.</p> + +<p class="center">THE END.</p> + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="THE_IRISH_REFUGEE" id="THE_IRISH_REFUGEE"></a>THE IRISH REFUGEE.</h2> + +<p class="center"> +The only son of his mother, and she was a widow.—Luke vii. 12.<br /> +</p> + +<table summary="center"> +<tr><td><p class="poem"> +<span class="i0">Long years shall see thee roaming</span> +<span class="i2">A sad and weary way,</span> +<span class="i0">Like traveler tired at gloaming</span> +<span class="i2">Of a sultry summer day.</span> +<span class="i0">But soon a home will greet thee,</span> +<span class="i2">Though low its portals be,</span> +<span class="i0">And ready kinsmen meet thee,</span> +<span class="i2">And peace that will not flee.—<span class="smcap">Percival.</span></span> +</p> +</td></tr></table> + + +<p>It was a lovely morning, that last Saturday in July, 1849. The sun had +not yet risen when our family party, consisting of Aunt and Uncle +Clive, Cousin Christine and myself, took seats at an early +breakfast-table. A capacious carriage, well packed with presents for +country cousins, stood at the door, ready to convey us to Virginia, to +spend the month of August. We, a merry set of grown-up children, were +too delighted with our prospective pleasure to eat anything, and so we +soon left the table and put on our bonnets and hats, preparatory to a +start. We entered the carriage.</p> + +<p>"Now, then, are we all ready?" asked Uncle Clive.</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied aunt.</p> + +<p>"Has nothing been forgotten?"</p> + +<p>"No—but stay! Where is Cousin Peggy's cap, Chrissy?"</p> + +<p>"There—pinned up in that paper to the roof of the carriage. Don't hit +your head against it, uncle."</p> + +<p>"Clive, where did you put the basket of bread and butter and cold +chicken?"</p> + +<p>"There—in the bottom of the carriage. Be careful, now, my dear, or +you will get your feet into it."</p> + +<p>"No, I shan't. But hadn't you better put the bandbox with Martha's +bonnet inside here?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed, mother," interposed Miss Chrissy, "there is no room for it; +for Cousin Peggy's bundle is on one side and the keg of crackers on +the other; my feet are resting on the caddy of tea, and the loaf of +sugar and paper of coffee are in my lap!"</p> + +<p>"There! let's get along," said Uncle Clive, impatiently. "I declare, +the sun is already half an hour high, and a ride of forty-five or +fifty miles before us. We shall not reach Willow Glade before ten +o'clock to-night."</p> + +<p>"Yes, and about nine o'clock we shall be going down Bloody Run Hill, +and I never can go through the piece of woods between that and Gibbet +Hill after dark without horror."</p> + +<p>"Ever since the peddler was murdered."</p> + +<p>"Yes, ever since the peddler was murdered, and before, too."</p> + +<p>Uncle Clive now jumped into his seat, and, taking the reins, we set +off at a pretty brisk rate.</p> + +<p>"Clive, don't that horse look a little vicious? See how he pricks up +his ears!"</p> + +<p>"Pooh! Nonsense! He's as safe a horse as ever drew."</p> + +<p>"What o'clock is it, now?"</p> + +<p>"Humph! half-past five. I think the next time we wish to get off at +sunrise, we had better arrange to start at midnight; then, perhaps, we +may succeed."</p> + +<p>Turning the corner of the street at this moment the sudden sight of +the river, and the wood on the opposite bank, glimmering and +glistening in the light of the morning sun, elicited a simultaneous +burst of admiration from our travelers. Then the prospective pleasures +of the rural visit were discussed, the family and friendly reunions, +the dinner parties, the fish feasts upon the river's banks, the oyster +excursions and crab expeditions; and in such pleasant anticipations +the cheerful hours of that delightful forenoon slipped away; and when, +at last, the heat of the sun grew oppressive, and our sharpened +appetites reminded us of the dinner-basket, we began to cast around +for a cool, dry and shady spot on which to rest and refresh ourselves. +The road here was wide and passed through a thick forest. A few more +turns of the wheels brought us to a narrow footpath, diverging from +the main road into the forest on the left-hand side.</p> + +<p>"Let's get out here, Clive, and follow this path; I know it. It leads +to a fine spring, with an acre or two of cleared land about it, on +which there was once a dwelling."</p> + +<p>This was agreed upon, and we all alighted and took the path through +the wood. We had not gone many yards ere a scene of woodland beauty +opened to our view. It presented an area of about four acres of open +land in the midst of the forest. From the opposite side a little +rivulet took its rise, and ran tinkling and splashing, in its pebbly +bed, through the centre of this open glade, until its music was lost +in the distance in the forest. But the most interesting object in +sight was a ruined cottage. It was very small. It could not have +contained more than two rooms. In front there had once been a door, +with a window on each side; but now both door and windows were gone.</p> + +<p>The solitary chimney had fallen down, and the stones of which it had +been built lay scattered around. A peach tree grew at the side of the +cottage, and its branches, heavy with the luscious fruit, drooped upon +the low roof. A grapevine grew in front, and its graceful tendrils +twined in and out through the sashless windows and the broken door. A +bird of prey was perched upon the house, and, as we approached, with a +fearful scream it took its flight.</p> + +<p>"Be careful, Christine, where you step; your foot is on a grave!"</p> + +<p>With a start and a sudden pallor, Christine looked down upon the +fragment of a gravestone. Stooping and putting aside the long grass +and weeds, she read: "The only child of his mother, and she a widow."</p> + +<p>"Whose grave could this have been, mother? The upper part of the +stone, which should bear the name, is gone. Oh, how sad this ruined +cot, and this lonely grave! I suppose, mother, here, in the heart of +the forest, in this small cottage, lived the widow and her only child. +The child died, as we may see, and she—oh! was the boon of death +granted to her at the same moment? But, who were they, mother? As your +early life was passed in this part of the country, you surely can tell +us."</p> + +<p>Aunt Clive, who had been gazing sadly and silently on the scene since +giving the warning to Christine, said:</p> + +<p>"Yes, I can tell you the story. But here comes your father, looking +very tired and hungry; and, as it is a very sad tale, we will defer it +until we have dined."</p> + +<p>We spread our repast upon the grass, and, seating ourselves upon the +fragments of the broken chimney, soon became engrossed in the +discussion of cold chicken, ham and bread. As soon as we had +dispatched them and repacked our basket, and while we were waiting for +the horses to feed and rest, Aunt Clive told us the following tale of +real life:</p> + + +<p class="center"><br />THE IRISH EMIGRANTS.<br /></p> + +<p>A short time previous to the breaking out of the Rebellion in Ireland +a family of distinction came from that country to America and +purchased and settled upon a handsome estate near the then flourishing +village of Richmond. Their family name was Delany. With them came a +Dr. Dulan, a clergyman of the established church. Through the +influence of the Delanys, Dr. Dulan was preferred to the rectorship +of the newly established parish of All Saints, and subsequently to the +president's chair of the new collegiate school of Newton Hall. This +prosperity enabled him to send for his son and daughter, and settle +with them in a comfortable home near the scene of his labors.</p> + +<p>It was about the fifth year of his residence in Virginia that the +rebellion in Ireland broke out, and foremost among the patriots was +young Robert Dulan, a brother of the doctor. All know how that +desperate and fatal effort terminated. Soon after the martyrdom of the +noble Emmet, young Dulan was arrested, tried, condemned, and followed +his admired leader to the scaffold, leaving his heart-broken young +wife and infant boy in extreme penury and destitution. As soon as she +recovered from the first stunning shock of her bereavement, she wrote +to her brother-in-law, soliciting protection for herself and child. To +this the doctor, who, to great austerity of manners, united an +excellent heart, replied by inviting his brother's widow to come to +Virginia, and inclosing the amount of money required to supply the +means. As soon as the old gentleman had done that he began to prepare +for her reception. Knowing that two families seldom get on well +beneath the same roof, and with a delicate consideration for the +peculiar nature of her trials, he wished to give her a home of her +own. Selecting this spot for the beauty and seclusion of its position, +as well as for its proximity to his own residence, he built this +cottage, inclosed it by a neat paling, and planted fruit trees. It was +a very cheerful, pretty place, this neat, new cottage, painted white, +with green window shutters; the white curtains; the honeysuckle and +white jessamine, trained to grow over and shade the windows; the white +paling, tipped with green; the clean gravel walk that led up to the +door, the borders of which were skirted with white and with red roses; +the clusters of tulips, lilies and hyacinths—all contributed to make +the wilderness "blossom as the rose;" and every day the kind-hearted +man sought to add some new attraction to the scene.</p> + +<p>One evening the doctor had been over to the cottage, superintending +the arrangement of some furniture. On his return home, a servant +brought a packet of letters and papers. Glancing over one of them, he +said:</p> + +<p>"Elizabeth, my daughter."</p> + +<p>A prim young lady, in a high-necked dress, and a close-fitting black +net cap, looked up from her work and answered in a low, formal voice:</p> + +<p>"My father."</p> + +<p>"Your aunt and cousin have at length arrived at the port of Baltimore. +They came over in the <i>Walter Raleigh</i>. I wish you to be in readiness +to accompany me to-morrow when I go to bring them down."</p> + +<p>"My father, yes," were the only words that escaped the formal and +frozen girl.</p> + +<p>A week after this conversation the still life of the beautiful +cottage was enlivened. A lovely boy played before the door, while a +pale mother watched him from within. That pale mother was not yet +thirty years of age, yet her cheeks were sunken, her eyes dim, and her +hair streaked with silver. Truly, the face was breaking fast, but the +heart was breaking faster. But the boy! Oh, he was a noble child! Tall +for his age (he was but five years old), his dark hair, parted over a +high, broad forehead, fell in sable curls upon his shoulders; his +large black eyes, now keen and piercing as the young eagle's, now soft +and melting as the dove's. His dark eyes wore their softest shade as +he stole to his mother's side, and, twining his little arms around her +neck, drew her face down to his, saying, with a kiss: "Willie is so +sorry?"</p> + +<p>"For what should Willie be sorry?" said the mother, tenderly caressing +him.</p> + +<p>"Because mamma is sad. Does she want Willie to do anything?"</p> + +<p>"No, sweet boy, she wants nothing done that Willie can do."</p> + +<p>"If mamma's head aches, Willie will hold it."</p> + +<p>"Her head does not ache."</p> + +<p>"If mamma wants Willie to stop teasing her and go to bed, he will go."</p> + +<p>"You are not teasing me, dear Willie, and it is rather too early for +you to go to bed."</p> + +<p>The widow strove to chase the gloom from her brow, that she might not +darken by its shadow the bright sunshine of her child's early life, +and with an effort at cheerfulness she exclaimed: "Now go, Willie, and +get the pretty book Cousin Elizabeth gave you, and see if you can read +the stories in it."</p> + +<p>Willie ran off to obey with cheerful alacrity.</p> + +<p>The doctor was not able to do more for his sister-in-law than to give +her the cottage and supply her with the necessaries of life; and to do +this, he cheerfully curtailed the expenses of his own household. It +was delightful to see the affectionate gratitude of the widow and +child toward their benefactor. And that angel child, I wish I could do +justice to his filial devotion. He seemed, at that early age, to feel +as though he only lived to love and bless his mother. To be constantly +at her side, to wait upon her, even to study her wants and anticipate +her wishes, seemed to be the greatest joy of the little creature.</p> + +<p>"Willie, why don't you eat your cake?" asked his uncle one day, when +Willie had been sent over to the doctor's on an errand, and had been +treated to a large slice of plumcake by his Cousin Elizabeth.</p> + +<p>Willie silently began to nibble his cake, but with evident reluctance.</p> + +<p>"Why, you do not seem to like it! Is it not good?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, thank you."</p> + +<p>"Why don't you eat it, then?"</p> + +<p>"My father," said Elizabeth.</p> + +<p>"Well, Miss Dulan?"</p> + +<p>"I think that Willie always carries every piece of cake he gets to his +mother."</p> + +<p>"But why not always prevent that by sending her a piece yourself?"</p> + +<p>"Because, my dear father, I think it may be wrong to restrain the +amiable spirit of self-denial evinced by the child."</p> + +<p>"Then you are mistaken, Miss Dulan; and recollect that it is very +irreverent in a young lady to express an opinion at variance with the +spirit of what her father has just said."</p> + +<p>Elizabeth meekly and in silence went to the pantry and cut a piece of +cake, which she carefully wrapped up and gave to Willie for his +mother. Willie received it with an humble and deprecatory look, as if +he felt the whole responsibility and weight of the reproof that had +fallen upon his cousin.</p> + +<p>One Christmas eve, when Willie was above seven years old, the widow +and her son were sitting by the cottage hearth. The closed shutters, +drawn curtains, clean hearth and bright fire threw an air of great +comfort over the room. Mrs. Dulan sat at her little work-table, +setting the finishing stitches in a fine linen shirt, the last of a +dozen that she had been making for the doctor.</p> + +<p>The snowstorm that had been raging all day long had subsided, though +occasionally the light and drifted snow would be blown up from the +ground by a gust of wind against the windows of the house. "Poor boy," +said the widow, looking at her son, "you look tired and sleepy; go to +bed, Willie."</p> + +<p>"Oh! dear mamma, I am not tired, and I could not sleep at all while +you are up alone and at work. Please let me stay up—but I will go to +bed if you say so," added he, submissively.</p> + +<p>"Come and kiss me, darling. Yes, Willie, you may stay up as long as +you like. I will go to bed myself," added she, mentally, "so as not to +keep the poor boy up."</p> + +<p>"Well, Willie, I will tell you a story, darling, which will amuse you, +while I sew."</p> + +<p>Just at this moment the sound of carriage wheels, followed immediately +by a jump from the box, and a smart rap at the door, caused the widow +to start hastily from her seat. The door was opened, and Jake, the big +black coachman of the old doctor, made his appearance, a heavy cloak +and a large muffling hood hanging over his arm.</p> + +<p>"Marm," said he, "it has clarred off beautiful, and massa has sent the +carriage arter you, and he says how he would have sent it afore, but +how the roads was blocked up with snowdrifts. Me and Pontius Pilate, +and Massa John, has been all the arternoon a clarring it away, and I +thinks, marm, if you don't come to-night, how the road will be as bad +as ever to-morrow morning, with this wind a-blowing about the snow. +Miss Lizzy has sent this hood of hern, and massa has sent this big +cloth cloak of hizzen, so that you needn't ketch cold."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dulan did not immediately reply, but looked at Willie, and seemed +to reflect.</p> + +<p>Jake added:</p> + +<p>"I hopes you'll come, marm, for massa and Miss Lizzy and Massa John +has quite set their heads on having you with them to spend Christmas, +and Massa John told me to tell you how he had bagged a fine passel of +waterfowl and wild turkeys, and I myself has made a trap for Massa +Willie to catch snowbirds."</p> + +<p>"Yes, we will go," said Mrs. Dulan. "Do me the favor, Jacob, to pour a +pitcher of water on that fire, while I tie on Willie's cloak and +mittens."</p> + +<p>In twenty minutes more, Willie was seated on his uncle's knees, by his +bright fireside, and his mother sat conversing with John and +Elizabeth, and a few neighbors whom the inclemency of the weather had +not deterred from dropping in to spend Christmas eve. The old +housekeeper stood at the buffet, cutting up seedcake, and pouring out +elder wine, which was soon passed round to the company.</p> + +<p>That Christmas was a gorgeous morning. The sun arose and lit up into +flashing splendor the icy glories of the landscape. From every roof +and eave, from every bough and bush, dropped millions of blazing +jewels. Earth wore a gorgeous bridal dress, bedecked with diamonds. +Within the doctor's house everything was comfortable as you could +wish. A rousing fire of hickory wood roared upon the hearth, an +abundant breakfast of coffee, tea, buckwheat cakes, muffins, eggs, +wild fowls, oysters, etc., etc., smoked upon the board. The family +were all gathered in the breakfast-room. The doctor was serving out +eggnog from a capacious bowl upon the sideboard.</p> + +<p>"Cousin Elizabeth," said little Willie, taking her hand and leading +her away to the sofa, "what do ladies love?"</p> + +<p>"What do ladies love? Why, Willie, what a queer question."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but tell me what do ladies love?"</p> + +<p>"Why, their papas, of course, and their brothers, and their relations; +it would not be decorous to love any one else," said the prim maiden.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you don't know what I mean; I mean what do ladies love to have? +You know boys like to have kites and marbles, and traps to catch +snowbirds, and picture books, and half-pence and such things. Now what +do ladies love to have?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, now I understand you. Why, we like to have a good assortment of +crewels and floss to work tapestry with, and a quantity of +bright-colored silk to embroider with, and——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's what you like, Cousin Elizabeth; but mamma doesn't work +samplers," said the boy, with a dash of pettish contempt in his tone. +"Uncle has given me a bright new shilling for a Christmas gift, to do +what I please with, and I want to get something with it for poor, dear +mamma."</p> + +<p>"La! child, you can get nothing of any account with a shilling."</p> + +<p>"Can't I?" said he, and his little face fell for an instant, but soon +lighting up, he exclaimed: "Oh, ho! Cousin Elizabeth, I am brighter +than you are, this time. A silver thimble is a very little thing, and +can be bought with a shilling, I am sure; so I will buy one for mamma. +Poor mamma has an old brass one now, which cankers her finger."</p> + +<p>"Here, Willie," said Elizabeth, "I have not paid you my Christmas +gift, and you caught me, you know; take this shilling, and now run and +ask your uncle to take you to the village with him when he goes, and +then you can buy your thimble. You have enough to get one now."</p> + +<p>Willie thanked his cousin with a hearty embrace, and ran off to do as +she advised him. The family now sat down to breakfast, after which +they all went to church, where the doctor performed divine service. A +large party of friends and neighbors returned with them to dinner, and +the remainder of the day was spent in hilarity and innocent enjoyment.</p> + +<p>The next day the thimble was purchased, as agreed upon, and little +Willie kept it a profound secret from his mother, until the first +evening on which they found themselves at home, in their little +parlor, when the candle was lit, and the little stand drawn to the +fire, the workbox opened, and the old brass thimble put on. Then +little Willie, glowing with blissful excitement, put his hand in his +pocket to find his present. It was not there. He searched the other +pocket, then his cap, then shook his cloak and looked about the +carpet. Alarmed now, he opened the door and was going out, when his +mother called to him.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter, Willie? Where are you going? What have you +lost?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing much, mother; I am only going out a minute," and he closed +the door, and began an almost hopeless search by the moonlight for his +lost treasure. Up and down the walk he searched without finding it. He +opened the gate, and peeping and peering about, wandered up the road, +until his little feet and limbs got wet in the soft snow, and his +hands became benumbed; when, feeling convinced that it was lost, he +sat down and burst into a passionate fit of weeping. Let no one feel +surprise or contempt at this. In this little affair of the thimble +there had been disinterested love, self-sacrifice, anticipated joy, +disappointment and despair, though all expended on a cheap thimble. +Yet, Willie was but seven years old, and "thought as a child, felt as +a child, understood as a child." I am a grown-up child now, and have +had many troubles, but the most acute sorrow I ever felt was the death +of my pet pigeon, when I was seven years old.</p> + +<p>It was long before the storm in his little bosom subsided, but when +at last it did, he turned to go home; he would not go before, lest he +might grieve his mother with the sight of his tears. At last, weary +and half-frozen, he opened the cottage gate and met his mother coming +to look for him, and she, who always spoke most gently to him, and for +whose dear sake she was suffering, now by a sad chance, and out of her +fright and vexation, sharply rebuked him and hurried him off to bed. +"If dear mamma had known, she would not have scolded me so, though," +was his last thought as he sank into a feverish sleep. The next +morning when Mrs. Dulan arose, the heavy breathing, and bright flush +upon the cheek of her boy, caught her attention, and roused her fears +for his health. As she gazed, a sharp expression of pain contracted +his features and he awoke. Feebly stretching out his arms to embrace +her, he said:</p> + +<p>"Oh, mamma, Willie is so sick, and his breast hurts so bad."</p> + +<p>The child had caught the pleurisy.</p> + +<p>It was late at night before medical assistance could be procured from +a distant village. In the meantime the child's illness had fearfully +progressed; and when at last the physician arrived, and examined him, +he could give no hopes of his recovery. Language cannot depict the +anguish of the mother as she bent over the couch of her suffering boy, +and, if a grain could have increased the burden of her grief, it would +have been felt in the memory of the few words of harsh rebuke when he +had returned half-frozen and heavy-hearted from his fruitless search +after the thimble, for the kind Elizabeth had arrived and explained +the incident of the night.</p> + +<hr class="small" /> + +<p>It was midnight of the ninth day. Willie had lain in a stupor for a +whole day and night previous. His mother stood by his bed; she neither +spoke nor wept, but her face wore the expression of acute suffering. +Her eyes were strained with an earnest, anxious, agonized gaze upon +the deathly countenance of the boy. Old Dr. Dulan entered the room at +this moment, and looking down at the child, and taking his thin, cold +hand in his own, felt his pulse, and turning to the wretched mother, +who had fixed her anxious gaze imploringly upon him, he said:</p> + +<p>"Hannah, my dear sister—— But, oh, God! I cannot deceive you," and +abruptly left the room.</p> + +<p>"Elizabeth," said he to his daughter, who was sitting by the parlor +fire, "go into the next room and remain with your aunt, and if +anything occurs summon me at once; and, John, saddle my horse quickly, +and ride over to Mrs. Caply and tell her to come over here."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Caply was the layer-out of the dead for the neighborhood.</p> + +<p>How tediously wore that dreary night away in the sickroom, where the +insensible child was watched by his mother and her friend! The +flickering taper, which both forgot to snuff, would fitfully flare up +and reveal the watchers, the bed, and the prostrate form of the pale, +stiff, motionless boy, with his eyes flared back with a fixed and +horrid stare. In the parlor, a party equally silent and gloomy kept +their vigil. Dr. Dulan, his son and the old woman, whose fearful +errand made her very presence a horror, formed the group. The old +woman at last, weary at holding her tongue so long, broke silence by +saying: "I always thought that child would never be raised, sir—he +was so smart and clever, and so dutiful to his ma. He was too good for +this world, sir. How long has he been sick, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Little more than a week; but I beg you will be silent, lest you +disturb them in the next room."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, certainly. Sick people ought to be kept quiet, though +perhaps that don't much matter when they are dying. Well, poor little +fellow; he was a pretty child, and will look lovely in his shroud and +cap, and——"</p> + +<p>"Hush!" exclaimed John Dulan, in a tone so stern that the woman was +constrained to be silent.</p> + +<p>Daylight was now peeping in at the windows. The doctor arose, put out +the candles, opened the shutters, stirred the fire, and went into the +next room. The widow was sitting in the same place, holding one of the +boy's hands between her own, her head bowed down upon it. The doctor +looked at the child; his eyes were now closed, as if in sleep. He laid +his hand upon his brow, and bending down, intently gazed upon him. The +child opened his eyes slowly. Passing quickly round the bed, the +doctor laid his hand upon the recumbent head and said: "Look up, +Hannah, your child is restored." With an ecstatic expression of +gratitude and joy, the mother started to her feet, and gazed upon her +boy.</p> + +<p>"Kiss me, mamma," said Willie, opening his gentle eyes, in which +beamed a quiet look of recognition and love. The mother kissed her +child repeatedly and fervently, while exclamations of profound +gratitude to Heaven escaped her. The doctor went to the window, and +threw open the shutters. The rising sun poured its light into the +room, and lit it up with splendor.</p> + +<p>I must transport you now, in imagination, over a few years of time +and a few miles of country, and take you into a splendid drawing-room, +in the handsome courthouse of the Delany's, which, you remember, I +described in the first part of this story, situated near the town of +Richmond. On a luxurious sofa, in this superb room, reclined a most +beautiful woman. Her golden hair divided above a high and classic +brow, fell, flashing and glittering, upon her white bosom like +sunbeams of snow. Her eyes—but who can describe those glorious eyes +of living sapphire? Sapphire! Compare her eloquent eyes to soulless +gems? Her eyes! Why, when their serious light was turned upon you, you +would feel spellbound, entranced, as by a strain of rich and solemn +music, and when their merry glance caught yours, you'd think there +could not be a grief or a sin on earth! But the greatest charm in that +fascinating countenance was the lips, small, full, red, their habitual +expression being that of heavenly serenity and goodness.</p> + +<p>Bending over the arm of the sofa, his head resting upon his hand, was +a young man; his eyes earnestly, anxiously, pleadingly fixed upon the +face of his companion, in whose ear, in a full, rich, and passionate +tone, he was pouring a tale of love, hopeless almost to despair. The +girl listened with a saddened countenance, and turning her large eyes, +humid with tears, upon his face, she spoke:</p> + +<p>"Richard, I am grieved beyond measure. Oh, cousin, I do not merit your +deep and earnest love. I am an ingrate! I do not return it."</p> + +<p>"Do you dislike me?" "Oh, no, no, no, indeed I do not—I esteem and +respect you; nay, more, I love you as a brother."</p> + +<p>"Then, dear, dearest Alice, since I am honored with your esteem, if +not blessed with your love, give me your hand—be my wife—and +ultimately perhaps——"</p> + +<p>"Horrible!" exclaimed the young girl, leaving the room abruptly.</p> + +<p>"What the d——l does that fool mean?" exclaimed Richard Delany, as +an angry flush passed over his face. "One would think I had insulted +her. Colonel Delany's penniless dependent should receive with more +humility, if not with more gratitude, an offer of marriage from his +heir. But I see how it is. She loves that beggarly Dulan—that +wretched usher. But, death—death to the poverty-stricken wretch, if +he presume to cross my path!" and the clenched fists, livid +complexion, and grinding teeth gave fearful testimony to the deadly +hatred that had sprung up in his bosom.</p> + +<p>At this moment Colonel Delany entered the room, and taking a seat, +said:</p> + +<p>"Richard, I have somewhat to say to you, and I wish you seriously to +attend. You know that I am your best, your most disinterested friend, +and that your welfare lies nearer to my heart than aught else earthly. +Well, I have observed, with much regret, the increased interest you +seem to take in your cousin—your passion for her, in fact. These +things are easily arrested in the commencement, and they must be +arrested. You can do it, and you must do it! I have other views for +you. Promise me, my son, that you will give up all thoughts of Alice."</p> + +<p>Richard, who had remained in deep thought during his father's address, +now looked up and replied:</p> + +<p>"But, my father, Alice is a very beautiful, very amiable, very +intellectual——"</p> + +<p>"Beggar!"</p> + +<p>"Father!"</p> + +<p>"Unbend that brow, sir! nor dare to address your parent in that +insolent tone! And now, sir, once for all, let us come to the point, +and understand each other perfectly. Should you persist in your +addresses to Alice, should you finally marry her, not a shilling, not +a penny of your father's wealth shall fall on an ungrateful son."</p> + +<p>Richard reflected profoundly a moment, and then replied:</p> + +<p>"Fear of the loss of wealth would not deter me from any step. But the +loss of my father would be an evil, I could never risk to encounter. I +will obey you, sir."</p> + +<p>"I am not satisfied," thought the old gentleman, as he left his son, +after a few more moments of conversation. "I am not satisfied. I will +watch them closely, and in the course of the day speak to Alice."</p> + +<p>An opportunity soon offered. He found himself alone with Alice, after +tea.</p> + +<p>"Alice," he commenced, "I wish to make a confidant of you;" and he +proceeded to unfold to her, at some length, his ambitious projects for +his son, and concluded by giving her to understand, pretty distinctly, +that he wished his son to select a wealthy bride, and that any other +one would never be received by him as his daughter.</p> + +<p>"I think I understand, although I cannot entirely sympathize with you, +my dear uncle," said Alice, in a low, trembling tone. "All this has +been said for my edification. That your mind may be perfectly at rest +on this subject, I must say what may be deemed presumptuous: I would +not, could not marry your son, either with or without your consent, or +under any circumstances whatever."</p> + +<p>"Alice! my dear Alice! How could you suppose I made any allusion to +you? Oh! Alice, Alice!"</p> + +<p>And the old man talked himself into a fit of remorse, sure enough. He +believed Alice, although he could not believe his son. The old +gentleman's uneasiness was not entirely dispelled; for, although Alice +might not now love Richard, yet time could make a great change in her +sentiments.</p> + +<p>Alice Raymond, the orphan niece of Colonel Delany, was the daughter +of an officer in the British army. Mr. Raymond was the youngest son of +an old, wealthy and haughty family in Dorsetshire, England. At a very +early age he married the youngest sister of Colonel Delany. Having +nothing but his pay, all the miseries of an improvident marriage fell +upon the young couple. The same hour that gave existence to Alice, +deprived her of her mother. The facilities to ambition offered by +America, and the hope of distracting his grief, induced Mr. Raymond to +dispose of his commission, and embark for the Western World. Another +object which, though the last named, was the first in deciding him to +cross the Atlantic. This object was to place his little Alice in the +arms of her maternal grandmother, the elder Mrs. Delany, then a widow, +and a resident under the roof of her son, Colonel Delany. A few weeks +after the sailing of the ship in which, with his infant daughter, Mr. +Raymond took passage, the smallpox broke out on board and he was one +of its earliest victims.</p> + +<p>With his dying breath he consigned Alice to the care of the captain of +the ship, a kind-hearted man, who undertook to convey the poor babe to +her grandmother. On the arrival of the infant at the mansion of +Colonel Delany, a new bereavement awaited her. Mrs. Delany, whose +health had been declining ever since her settlement in her new home, +was fast sinking to the grave. Colonel Delany, however, received the +orphan infant with the greatest tenderness. Sixteen years of +affectionate care had given him a father's place in the heart of +Alice, and a father's influence over her. Within the last year the +sunshine of Alice's life had been clouded.</p> + +<p>Richard Delany, the only son and heir of Colonel Delany, had been +sent to England at the age of fifteen to receive a college education. +After remaining eight years abroad, the last year of his absence being +spent in making the grand tour, he returned to his adopted country and +his father's house. He was soon attracted by the beauty and grace of +Alice. I say by her beauty and grace, because the moral and +intellectual worth of the young girl he had not the taste to admire, +even had he, at this early period of his acquaintance with her, an +opportunity to judge. The attentions of Richard Delany to his cousin +were not only extremely distressing to her, but highly displeasing to +his father, who had formed, as we have seen, the most ambitious +projects for his son. Richard Delany was not far wrong in his +conjecture concerning the young usher, who was no other than our old +friend William Dulan, little Willie, who had now grown to man's +estate, the circumstances of whose introduction to the Delany family I +must now proceed to explain.</p> + +<p>To pass briefly over the events of William Dulan's childhood and +youth. At the age of ten years he entered, as a pupil, the collegiate +school over which Dr. Dulan presided, where he remained until his +nineteenth year. It had been the wish of William Dulan and his mother +that he should take holy orders, and he was about to enter a course of +theological study under the direction of his uncle when an event +occurred which totally altered the plan of his life. This event was +the death of Dr. Dulan, his kind uncle and benefactor. All thoughts of +the church had now to be relinquished, and present employment, by +which to support his mother, to be sought. * * * It was twelve o'clock +at night, about three months after the death of Dr. Dulan. The mother +of William, by her hearth, still plied her needle, now the only means +of their support. Her son sat by her side, as of old. He had been +engaged some hours in reading to her. At length, throwing down the +book, he exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"Dearest, dearest mother, lay by that work. It shames my manhood, it +breaks my heart, to see you thus coining your very health and life +into pence for our support; while I! oh, mother, I feel like a human +vampire, preying upon your slender strength!"</p> + +<p>The widow looked into the face of her son, saw the distress, the +almost agony of his countenance, and, quickly folding up her work, +said gently:</p> + +<p>"I am not sewing so much from necessity, now, dear William, as because +I was not sleepy, being so much interested in your book."</p> + +<p>The morning succeeding this little scene, William, as was his wont, +arose early, and going into the parlor, made up the fire, hung the +kettle on, and was engaged in setting the room in order, when his +mother entered, who, observing his occupation, said:</p> + +<p>"Ever since your return from school, William, you have anticipated me +in this morning labor. You must now give it up, my son—I do not like +to see you perform these menial offices."</p> + +<p>"No service performed for my mother can be menial," said Willie, +giving her a fond smile.</p> + +<p>"My darling son!"</p> + +<p>After breakfast William took up his hat and went out. It was three +hours before he returned. His face was beaming with happiness, as he +held an open letter in his hand.</p> + +<p>"See, mother, dear, kind Providence has opened a way for us at last."</p> + +<p>"What is it, my son?" said the widow, anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Keene, you know, who left this neighborhood about three years +ago, went to —— County and established a school, which has succeeded +admirably. He is in want of an assistant, and has written to me, +offering four hundred dollars a year for my services in his +institution."</p> + +<p>"And you will have to leave me, William!"</p> + +<p>These words escaped the widow, with a deep sigh, and without +reflection. She added in an instant, with assumed cheerfulness:</p> + +<p>"Yes, of course—so I would have you do."</p> + +<p>A month from this conversation William Dulan was established in his +new home, in the family of Mr. Keene, the principal of Bay Grove +Academy, near Richmond.</p> + +<p>The first meeting of William Dulan and Alice Raymond took place under +the following circumstances. On the arrival of Richard Delany at home, +his father, who kept up the good old customs of his English ancestors, +gave a dinner and ball in honor of his son's coming of age. All the +gentry of his own and the adjoining counties accepted invitations to +attend. Among the guests was William Dulan. He was presented to Miss +Raymond, the young hostess of the evening, by Mr. Keene. Young Dulan +was at first dazzled by the transcendent beauty of her face, and the +airy elegance of her form; then, won by the gentleness of her manners, +the elevation of her mind, and the purity of her heart. One ball in a +country neighborhood generally puts people in the humor of the thing, +and is frequently followed by many others. It was so in this instance, +and William Dulan and Alice Raymond met frequently in scenes of +gayety, where neither took an active part in the festivities. A more +intimate acquaintance produced a mutual and just estimation of each +other's character, and preference soon warmed into love.</p> + +<p>From the moment in which the jealous fears of Richard Delany were +aroused, he resolved to throw so much coldness and hauteur in his +manner toward that young gentleman as should banish him from the +house. This, however, did not effect the purpose for which it was +designed, and he finally determined to broach the subject to his +father. Old Colonel Delany, whose "optics" were so very "keen" to spy +out the danger of his son's forming a mésalliance, was stone blind +when such a misfortune threatened Alice, liked the young man very +much, and could see nothing out of the way in his attentions to his +niece, and finally refused to close his doors against him at his son's +instance. While this conversation was going on, the summer vacation +approached, and William made arrangements to spend them with his +mother.</p> + +<p>One morning William Dulan sat at his desk. His face was pale, his +spirits depressed. He loved Alice, oh! how madly. He could not forego +the pleasure of her society; yet how was all this to end? Long years +must elapse before, if ever, he could be in a situation to ask the +hand of Alice. With his head bowed upon his hand, he remained lost in +thought.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Dulan, may our class come up? We know our lessons," said a +youthful voice at his elbow.</p> + +<p>"Go to your seats, boys," said a rich, melodious, kind voice; "I wish +to have a few moments' conversation with Mr. Dulan," and Dr. Keene, +the principal, stood by his side.</p> + +<p>"My dear Dulan," said he, "you are depressed, but I bring you that +which will cheer your spirits. I have decided to give up my school +here into your sole charge if you will accept it. I have received, +through the influence of some of my political friends, a lucrative and +permanent appointment under the government, the nature of which I will +explain to you by and by. I think of closing my connection with this +school about the end of the next term. What say you? Will you be my +successor?"</p> + +<p>Dulan started to his feet, seized both the hands of his friend, +pressed them fervently, and would have thanked him, but utterance +failed. Dr. Keene insisted on his resuming his seat, and then added:</p> + +<p>"The income of the school amounts to twelve hundred dollars a year. +The schoolhouse, dwelling-house, with its outbuildings and numerous +improvements upon the premises, go into the bargain. Yes, Dulan, I +have known your secret long," said he, smiling good-humoredly, "and +sincerely, though silently, commiserated the difficulties of your +position; and I assure you, Dulan, that the greatest pleasure I felt +in receiving my appointment was in the opportunity it gave me of +making you and Alice happy. Stop, stop, Dulan, let me talk," laughed +Keene, as William opened a battery of gratitude upon him. "It is now +near the end of July. I should like to see you installed here on the +first of September. The August vacation will give you an opportunity +of making all your arrangements. I must now leave you to your labors."</p> + +<p>Every boy that asked to go out went out that day. Every boy that said +his task got praised, and every boy that missed his lesson got blamed. +The day was awfully tedious for all that, but evening came at last, +and the school was dismissed. William, after spending an unusually +long time in the "outward adorning," hastened with a joy-beaming +countenance to the home of his Alice. In the full flow of his joy he +was met by a sudden disappointment. The servant who met him at the +door informed him that Colonel Delany, Miss Raymond and Mr. Delany had +set off for Richmond, with the intention of staying a couple of weeks. +Crestfallen, William turned from the door. This was only a momentary +disappointment, however, and soon his spirits rose, and he joyfully +anticipated the time of the Delany's return. They were to be back in +time for the approaching examination and exhibition at Bay Grove +Academy; and in preparing his pupils for this event, William Dulan +found ample employment for his time and thoughts. I will not weary you +with a description of the exhibition. It passed off in that school +pretty much as it does in others. The Delanys, however, had not +returned in time to be present, nay, the very last day of William's +stay had dawned, yet they had not arrived. William had written to his +mother that he would be home on a stated day, and not even for the +delight of meeting the mistress of his heart, the period of whose +return was now uncertain, would he disappoint her. William was engaged +in packing his trunk, when Dr. Keene, again the harbinger of good +tidings, entered his room.</p> + +<p>"My dear Dulan," said he, "I have come to tell you that the Delanys +have arrived. You will have an opportunity of spending your last +evening with Alice."</p> + +<p>William shuffled his things into his trunk, pressed down the lid, +locked it, and, hastily bidding his friend good-evening, took his hat +and hurried from the house. Being arrived at Colonel Delany's, he was +shown into the drawing-room, and was delighted to find Alice its sole +occupant. The undisguised joy with which she received him left +scarcely a doubt upon his mind as to the reception of his intended +proposals. After a few mutual inquiries respecting health, friends, +and so forth, William took her white hand in his, and said, or +attempted to say—I know not what—it stuck in his throat—and he +remained merely silent, holding the hand of Alice. There is something +so extremely difficult about making a pre-meditated declaration of +love. It is much easier when it can be surprised from a man. William +knew the moments were very precious. He knew that Colonel Delany or +his son might be expected to enter at any moment, and there would be +an end of opportunity for a month or six weeks to come; yet there he +sat, holding her hand, the difficulty becoming greater every minute, +while the crimson cheek of Alice burned with a deeper blush. At length +footsteps approached. William heard them, and becoming alarmed, +hastily, hurriedly, but fervently and passionately exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"Alice, I love you with my whole heart, mind and strength. I love you +as we are commanded only to love God. Dearest Alice, will you become +my wife?"</p> + +<p>"Miss Raymond," said Richard Delany, entering at this moment, "my +father desires your presence instantly in his study on business of the +utmost moment to yourself. Mr. Dulan, I hope, will excuse me, as we +have but just arrived, and many matters crave my attention. +Good-evening, sir," and, bowing haughtily, he attended his cousin from +the room. William Dulan arose and took his hat to go.</p> + +<p>"Farewell, Mr. Dulan," said Alice, kindly, "if we should not meet +again before your departure."</p> + +<p>"Farewell, sweet Alice," murmured William Dulan as he left the house.</p> + +<hr class="small" /> + +<p>It was a glorious Sabbath morning early in August. The widow's +cottage gleamed in the dark bosom of the wood like a gem in the +tresses of beauty. Everything wore its brightest aspect. The windows +of the little parlor were open, and the songs of birds and the perfume +of flowers were wafted through them. But the little breakfast-table, +with its snowy cloth and its one plate, cup and saucer, looked almost +piteous from its solitude. Upon the clean white coverlet of the bed +sat the widow's little black bonnet and shawl, prayer-book, and clean +pocket handkerchief, folded with its sprig of lavender. It was +Communion Sunday, and the widow would not miss going to church on any +account. She dispatched her breakfast quickly—poor thing! she had not +much appetite. She had sat up half the night previous, awaiting the +arrival of William, but he had not come; and a man from the village +had informed her that the mail-stage had arrived on the night previous +without any passengers. As the stage would not pass again for a week, +the widow could not expect to see or hear from her son for that length +of time. After putting away her breakfast things, she donned her +bonnet and shawl, and, taking her prayer-book, opened the door to go +out. What a pleasant sight met her eyes. A neat one-horse carriage, or +rather cart, stood at the door—her son was just alighting from it. In +another instant he had clasped his mother in his arms.</p> + +<p>"Oh! my William! my William! I am so glad to see you," exclaimed the +delighted mother, bursting into tears. "Oh, but this is so joyful, so +unexpected, dear William! I looked for you, indeed, last night; but, +as you did not come, I gave you up, unwillingly enough, for a week. +But come in, darling; you've not breakfasted, I know."</p> + +<p>"No, dear mother, because I wished to breakfast with you; but let me +give something to the horse, first, and you sit in the door, dear +mother—I do not want to lose sight of you a moment, while waiting on +Rosinante."</p> + +<p>"Never mind, William, old Jake can do that. Here, Jake," said she, as +the old servant approached, "take charge of Master William's horse." +Then turning to William, she said: "John sends old Jake over every +morning to help me."</p> + +<p>"Ah! How are Cousins John and Elizabeth?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, very hearty. We shall see them this morning at church."</p> + +<p>"I did not come in the stage yesterday, mother," said William, as they +took their seats at the breakfast table, "because I had purchased this +light wagon and horse for you to ride to church in, and I came down in +it. I reached the river last night, but could not cross. The old +ferryman had gone to bed, and would not rise. Well, after breakfast, +dear mother, I shall have the pleasure of driving you to church in +your own carriage!" added William, smiling.</p> + +<p>"Ah! William, what a blessing you are to me, my dear son; but it must +have taken the whole of your quarter's salary to buy this for me?" And +she glanced, with pain, at his rusty and threadbare suit of black, and +at his napless hat.</p> + +<p>"Ah, mother, I was selfish after all, and deserve no credit, for I +laid the money out in the way which would give myself the most +pleasure. But, see, here is old Jake to tell us the carriage is ready. +Come, mother, I will hand you in, and as we go along I will unfold to +you some excellent news, which I am dying to deliver." So saying, he +placed his mother carefully in the little carriage, and seating +himself beside her drove off, leaving old Jake in charge of the house.</p> + +<p>"There is plenty of time, dear mother; so we will drive slowly, that +we may talk with more comfort."</p> + +<p>William then proceeded to relate, at large, all that had taken place +during his residence at Bay Grove—not omitting his love for Alice, of +whom he gave a glowing description; nor the bright prospects which the +kindness of Dr. Keene opened before him. Then he described the +beautiful dwelling which would become vacant on the removal of Dr. +Keene's family, which was expected to take place some time during the +coming autumn. To this dwelling, he intended to remove his mother, and +hoped to bear his bride.</p> + +<p>To all this the mother listened with grateful joy. At the church, +William Dulan met again his cousins, John and Elizabeth, who expressed +their delight at the meeting and insisted that William and his mother +should return with them to dinner. This, however, both mother and son +declined, as they wished to spend the day at home together.</p> + +<p>William Dulan spent a month with his mother, and when the moment +arrived that was to terminate his visit, he said to her:</p> + +<p>"Now, dear mother, cheer up! This parting is so much better than our +last parting. Now, I am going to prepare a beautiful home for you, and +when I come at Christmas, it will be for the purpose of carrying you +back with me."</p> + +<p>The widow gave her son a beaming look of love.</p> + +<p>With a "Heaven be with you, my dearest mother," and "God bless you, my +best son," they parted. They parted to meet no more on earth.</p> + +<p>Let us now return to the mansion of Colonel Delany, and learn the +nature of that "matter of the utmost moment to herself," that had +summoned Alice so inopportunely from the side of her lover.</p> + +<hr class="small" /> + +<p>On reaching the study of her uncle, Miss Raymond found him in deep +consultation with an elderly gentleman in black. Various packets of +papers were before him—an open letter was held in his hand. He arose +to meet Alice, as she advanced into the room, and taking her hand with +grave respect, said:</p> + +<p>"Lady Hilden, permit me to congratulate you on your accession to your +title and estates."</p> + +<p>"Sir! uncle!" exclaimed Alice, gazing at him with the utmost +astonishment, scarcely conscious whether she was waking or dreaming.</p> + +<p>"Yes, my dear, it is true. Your grandfather—old Lord +Hilden—departed this life on the sixth of last March. His only living +son survived him but a few weeks, and died without issue, and the +title and estates, with a rent-roll of eight thousand pounds per +annum, has descended, in right of your father, to yourself!"</p> + +<p>"I shall have so much to give to William!" involuntarily exclaimed +Alice.</p> + +<p>"Madam!" exclaimed Colonel Delany in surprise.</p> + +<p>Alice blushed violently at having thought aloud. "Dear sir," said she, +"I did not know what I was saying."</p> + +<p>"Ah, well, I suppose you are a little startled with this sudden news," +said the Colonel, smiling; "but now it is necessary for you to examine +with us some of these papers. Ah, I crave your pardon, Mr. +Reynard—Lady Hilden, this is Mr. Reynard, late solicitor to your +deceased grandfather, the Baron ——"</p> + +<p>Great was the excitement in the neighborhood when it was noised abroad +that Alice Raymond had become a baroness, in her own right, and the +possessor of a large estate in England. And when, for the first time +since her accession to her new dignities, she appeared at church, in +deep mourning, every eye was turned upon her, and she almost sank +beneath the gaze of so many people.</p> + +<p>In the height of the "nine days' wonder," William Dulan returned, and +was greeted by the news from every quarter.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Alice—lost! lost! lost to me forever!" exclaimed he, in agony, +as he paced, with hurried strides, up and down the floor of his little +room. "Oh, my mother, if it were not for thee, I should pray that this +wretched heart of mine would soon be stilled in death."</p> + +<p>If any human being will look candidly upon the events of his own +life, and the history of his own heart, with a view to examine the +causes of suffering, he will be constrained to admit that by far the +greater portion of his miseries have originated in misapprehension, +and might have been easily prevented or cured by a little calm +investigation. It was so with William Dulan, who was at this moment +suffering the most acute agony of mind he ever felt in his life, from +a misconception, a doubt, which a ten minutes' walk to the house of +Colonel Delany, and a ten minutes' talk with Alice, would have +dissipated forever.</p> + +<p>If Richard Delany was anxious before to wed his cousin for love, he +was now half crazy to take that step by which both love and ambition +would be gratified to the utmost.</p> + +<p>He actually loved her ten times as much as formerly. The "beggar" was +beautiful, but the baroness was bewitching! Spurred on, then, he +determined to move heaven, earth and the other place, if necessary, to +accomplish his object. He beset Lady Hilden with the most earnest +prayers, and protestations, and entreaties, reminding her that he +loved and wooed her before the dawn of her prosperity, and appealed to +her for the disinterestedness of his passion. But all in vain. He even +besought his father to use his influence with Alice in his favor. +Colonel Delany, his objections being all now removed, urged his niece, +by her affection, by her compassion, and, finally, after some delicate +hesitation, by her gratitude, to accept the proffered hand of his son. +But Alice was steadfast in her rejection.</p> + +<p class="center">"A change had come o'er the spirit of her dream!"</p> + +<p>Alas, alas! that a change of fortune should work such a change of +spirit! Alice Raymond was now Lady Hilden. Her once holy, loving, meek +blue eyes were now splendid with light and joy. Upon cheek and lip, +once so delicately blooming, now glanced and glowed a rich, bright +crimson. Her once softly falling step had become firm, elastic and +stately. "A peeress in my own right," was the thought that sent a +spasmodic joy to the heart of Alice. I am sorry she was not more +philosophical, more exalted, but I cannot help it, so it was; and if +Alice "put on airs," it must not be charged upon her biographer.</p> + +<p>Time sped on. A rumor of an approaching marriage between Mr. Richard +Delany and Lady Hilden was industriously circulated, and became the +general topic of conversation in the neighborhood. To avoid hearing it +talked of, William Dulan sedulously kept out of company. He had never +seen Alice since she became Lady Hilden. Dr. Keene had removed with +his family from Bay Grove, and the principal government and emolument +of the school had devolved upon young Dulan. The Christmas holidays +were at hand, and he resolved to take advantage of the opportunity +offered by them, to remove his mother to Bay Grove. On the last +evening of his stay, something in the circumstance brought back +forcibly to his mind his last conversation with Alice—that +conversation had also taken place on the eve of a journey; and the +association of ideas awakened, together with the belief that he would +never again have an opportunity of beholding her, irresistibly +impelled him to seek an interview with Alice.</p> + +<p>Twilight was fast fading into night. Lady Hilden stood alone, gazing +out from the window of her uncle's drawing-room. She had changed +again, since we saw her last. There was something of sorrow, or +bitterness, in the compressed or quivering lip. Her eye was bright as +ever, but it was the brightness of the icicle glancing in the winter +sun—it was soon quenched in tears, and as she gazed out upon the +gloomy mountain, naked forest, and frozen lake, she murmured: "I used +to love summer and day so much; now——" [A servant entered with +lights. "Take them away," said Alice. She was obeyed.]—"the dark soul +in the dark scene—there is almost repose in that harmony."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Dulan," said the servant, reappearing at the door, and Mr. +William Dulan followed the announcement.</p> + +<p>"You may bring in the light, now," said Alice.</p> + +<p>"Will Lady Hilden accept congratulations, offered at so late a +period?" said William Dulan, with a respectful bow.</p> + +<p>Alice, who had been startled out of her self-possession, replied only +by a bow.</p> + +<p>"I was about to leave this neighborhood for a short time; but could +not do so without calling to bid you farewell, fearing you might be +gone to England before I return." William Dulan's voice was beginning +to quiver.</p> + +<p>"I have no present intention of going to England."</p> + +<p>"No? Such a report is rife in the neighborhood."</p> + +<p>"One is not chargeable with the reports of the neighborhood."</p> + +<p>Alice said this in a peculiar tone, as she glanced at the +sorrow-stricken visage of the young man.</p> + +<p>A desultory conversation ensued, after which William Dulan arose to +take his leave, which he did in a choking, inaudible voice. As he +turned to leave the room, his ghastly face and unsteady step attested, +in language not to be misunderstood, the acuteness and intensity of +his suffering. Alice did not misunderstand it. She uttered one word, +in a low and trembling tone:</p> + +<p>"William!"</p> + +<p>He was at her side in an instant. A warm blush glowing over her bosom, +cheek and brow, her eyes were full of tears, as she raised them to his +face, eloquent with all a maiden may not speak.</p> + +<p>"Angel! I love! I adore thee!" exclaimed the youth, sinking at her +feet.</p> + +<p>"Love me, William, only love me, and let us both adore the Being who +hath given us to each other."</p> + +<hr class="small" /> + +<p>It was a cold night on the shores of the ice-bound Rappahannock. A +storm of wind and snow that had been fiercely raging all day long, at +length subsided. At a low cabin, which served the threefold purposes +of post-office, ferry-house and tavern, an old gray-haired man was +nodding over a smoldering fire. His slumbers were disturbed by the +blast of a stage horn and wheels of the coach, which soon stopped +before the door.</p> + +<p>Two travelers alighted and entered the cabin. The old ferryman arose +to receive them.</p> + +<p>"Any chance of crossing to-night, Uncle Ben?" inquired the younger +traveler.</p> + +<p>"He-he! hardly, Mr. William; the river has been closed for a week," +chuckling at the thought that he should be saved the trouble of taking +the coach across.</p> + +<p>"Oh, of course, I did not expect to go on the boat; I was thinking of +crossing on the ice."</p> + +<p>"I think that would scarcely be safe, Mr. William; the weather has +moderated a great deal since nightfall, and I rather think the ice may +be weak."</p> + +<p>"Pooh! nonsense! fiddle-de-dee!" exclaimed the other traveler, +testily; "do you think, old driveler, that a few hours of moderate +weather could weaken, effectually, the ice of a river that has been +hard frozen for a week? Why, at this moment a coach might be driven +across with perfect safety!"</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't like to try it, though, sir," said the driver, who +entered at this moment.</p> + +<p>"The gentleman can try it, if he likes," continued the old man, with a +grin, "but I do hopes Mr. Dulan won't."</p> + +<p>"Why, the ice will certainly bear a foot-passenger safely across," +smiled William Dulan.</p> + +<p>"I dare say it may; but, at any rate, I wouldn't try it, Master +William—'specially as it's a long, dark, slushy road between here and +the widow's."</p> + +<p>"Why, Uncle Ben, do you think I am a young chicken, to be killed by +wetting my feet?" asked William, laughing. "Besides, at this very +moment, my good mother is waiting for me, and has a blazing fire, a +pot of strong coffee, and a bowl of oysters, in readiness. I would not +disappoint her, or myself, for a good deal."</p> + +<p>"If it were not for this confounded lameness in my feet, I would not +stop at this vile hole to-night," said the elder traveler, who was no +other than Richard Delany, whom imperative business had called to this +part of the country, and who had thus become, very reluctantly, the +traveling companion of William Dulan.</p> + +<p>"Nobody asked you, sir," exclaimed the old man, who did not seek +popularity.</p> + +<p>William Dulan, who by this time had resumed his cloak, and received a +lighted lantern from the old ferryman, took his way to the river, +accompanied by the latter. Arrived at its edge, he turned, shook hands +with the old man, and stepped upon the ice. Old Ben remained, with his +eyes anxiously strained after the light of the lantern as it was borne +across the river. It was already half-way across—suddenly a breaking +sound, a fearful shriek, a quenched light, and all was dark and still +upon the surface of the ice; but beneath, a young, strong life was +battling fiercely with death. Ah! who can tell the horrors of that +frightful struggle in the dark, cold, ice-bound prison of the waters?</p> + +<p>The old man turned away, aghast with horror, and his eyes fell upon +the countenance of Richard Delany, which was now lit up with demoniac +joy, as he muttered between his teeth:</p> + +<p>"Good, good, good! Alice shall be mine now!"</p> + +<hr class="small" /> + +<p>It was night in the peaceful cottage of the widow. All the little +<i>agremens</i> her son had pictured were there. A little round-table, +covered with a snowy cloth, stood in readiness. An easy-chair was +turned with its back to the fire, and on it a dressing-gown, and +before it lay a pair of soft, warm slippers. The restless, joyous, +anxious mother was reading over, for the twentieth time, her son's +last letter, in which he promised to be home, punctually, on that +evening. Hours flew on, but he did not come. At length, one o'clock +struck, and startled the widow from her meditative posture. "I must go +to bed—I must not look pale with watching, to-morrow, and alarm my +good son. It is just as it was before—he cannot get across the river +to-night. I shall see him early to-morrow." Removing the things from +about the fire, and setting the room in the nicest order, the widow +retired to bed.</p> + +<p>She rose early in the morning, to prepare a good breakfast for her +son. "He shall have buckwheat cakes this morning; he is so fond of +them," said she, as she busied herself in preparation.</p> + +<p>Everything was in readiness, yet William came not. The morning passed +on. The mother grew impatient.</p> + +<p>"It is certainly high time he was here now," said she; "I will go +through the woods, toward the high-road, and see if he is coming," and +putting on her bonnet and shawl, she set out. She had just entered the +wood when two advancing figures caught her attention. The path was so +narrow that they were walking one behind the other.</p> + +<p>"Ah! there he is—and John Dulan is with him," exclaimed the mother as +they drew near.</p> + +<p>The foremost man was indeed John Dulan, who held out his hand as they +met.</p> + +<p>"Ah! how do you do, John? How do you do? This is so kind of you! But, +stand aside—excuse me—I want to see that youth behind you!" and the +widow brushed past him, and caught to her bosom—old Ben, the +ferryman.</p> + +<p>"My gracious! I thought you were my son! Dear me, how absurd!" +exclaimed the widow, releasing him.</p> + +<p>"Let us go on to the cottage, aunt," said John Dulan, sadly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, do. I am looking every minute for William. Oh, you can tell me, +Uncle Ben—did he reach the ferry last night?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, madam," groaned the old man.</p> + +<p>"Why, you alarm me! Why didn't he come home, then?"</p> + +<p>"He did try—he did try! I begged him not to—but he would! Oh, dear! +oh, dear!"</p> + +<p>"Why, what in Heaven's name is the matter? What has happened? Is my +son ill?"</p> + +<p>"Tell her, Mr. Dulan—tell her! I could not, to save my life!"</p> + +<p>The widow turned very pale.</p> + +<p>"Where is William? Where is my son? Is he ill? Is he ill?"</p> + +<p>"My dearest aunt, do try to compose yourself!" said John Dulan, in a +trembling voice.</p> + +<p>"Where is my son? Where is he?"</p> + +<p>"You cannot see him to-day——"</p> + +<p>"Yet he was at the ferry-house last night! Great God! it cannot be!" +cried the mother, suddenly growing very pale and faint, "Oh, no! +Merciful Providence—such sorrow cannot be in store for me? He is +not——"</p> + +<p>She could not finish the sentence, but turned a look of agonizing +inquiry on John Dulan. He did not speak.</p> + +<p>"Answer! answer! answer!" almost screamed the mother.</p> + +<p>John Dulan turned away.</p> + +<p>"Is my son—is my son—dead?"</p> + +<p>"He is in heaven, I trust," sobbed John.</p> + +<p>A shriek, the most wild, shrill and unearthly that ever came from the +death-throe of a breaking heart, arose upon the air, and echoed +through the woods, and the widow sunk, fainting, to the ground. They +raised her up—the blood was flowing in torrents from her mouth. They +bore her to the house, and laid her on the bed. John Dulan watched +beside her, while the old man hastened to procure assistance.</p> + +<p>The life of the widow was despaired of for many weeks. She recovered +from one fit of insensibility, only to relapse into another. At +length, however, she was pronounced out of danger. But the white hair, +silvered within the last few weeks, the strained eyes, contracted brow +and shuddering form, marked the presence of a scathing sorrow.</p> + +<p>One day, while lying in this state, a traveling carriage drew up +before the door, and a young, fair girl, clad in deep mourning, +alighted and entered. Elizabeth, who was watching beside her, stooped +down and whispered very low:</p> + +<p>"The betrothed bride of your son."</p> + +<p>The young girl approached the bed, and, taking the hand of the +sufferer, exclaimed: "Mother, mother, you are not alone in your +sorrow! I have come to live or die by you, as my strength may serve!"</p> + +<p>The widow opened her arms and received her in an embrace. They wept. +The first blessed tears that had relieved the burdened heart of either +were shed together.</p> + +<p>Alice never left her. When the widow was sufficiently recovered, they +went to England. The best years of the life of Alice were spent in +soothing the declining days of William Dulan's mother. The face of +Alice was the last object her eyes rested on in life; and the hands of +Alice closed them in death.</p> + +<p>Alice never married, but spent the remainder of her life in +ministering to the suffering poor around her.</p> + +<p>I neglected to mention that, during the illness of Mrs. Dulan, the +body of her son was found, and interred in this spot, by the request +of his mother.</p> + +<p>"What becomes of the moral?" you will say.</p> + +<p>I have told you a true story. Had I created these beings from +imagination, I should also have judged them—punished the bad and +rewarded the good. But these people actually lived, moved, and had +their being in the real world, and have now gone to render in their +account to their Divine Creator and Judge. The case of Good <i>versus</i> +Evil, comes on in another world, at another tribunal, and, no doubt, +will be equitably adjudged.</p> + +<hr class="small" /> + +<p>As I fear my readers may be dying to know what farther became of +our cheery set of travelers, I may, on some future occasion, gratify +their laudable desire after knowledge; only informing them at present +that we did reach our destination at ten o'clock that night, in +safety, although it was very dark when we passed down the dreaded +Gibbet Hill and forded the dismal Bloody Run Swamp. That Aunt Peggy's +cap was not mashed by Uncle Clive's hat, and that Miss Christine did +not put her feet into Cousin Kitty's bandbox, to the demolition of her +bonnet; but that both bonnet and cap survived to grace the heads of +their respective proprietors. The only mishap that occurred, dear +reader, befell your obsequious servitor, who went to bed with a sick +headache, caused really by her acute sympathy with the misfortunes of +the hero and heroine of our aunt's story, but which Miss Christine +grossly attributed to a hearty supper of oysters and soft crabs, eaten +at twelve o'clock at night, which, of course, you and I know, had +nothing at all to do with it.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<div class="figleft" style="width: 45%"><img src="./images/image04.png" width="75%" alt="backleaf left" /></div> +<div class="figright" style="width: 45%"><img src="./images/image05.png" width="75%" alt="backleaf right" /></div> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<h4>TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE</h4> + +<p><br /> +The stories in the original scans had page numbers in three blocks.<br /></p> + +<table summary="Page numbering" border="1"> +<tr><td align="left">The Rector of St. Marks</td><td align="left">pages numbered 1-131</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">Aunt Henrietta's Mistake<br /> + False and True Love<br /> + In the Hospital<br /> + Earnest and True <br /> + Memorable Thanksgiving Days</td> +<td valign="middle" align="left">pages numbered 171-243</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left">The Irish Refugee</td><td align="left">pages numbered 166-212</td></tr> +</table> +<p><br />Page numbers have been removed from this version, and stories are presented in the order of the +images from the digital library.</p> + +</div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Rector of St. Mark's, by Mary J. Holmes + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RECTOR OF ST. MARK'S *** + +***** This file should be named 19702-h.htm or 19702-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/9/7/0/19702/ + +Produced by David Garcia and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Kentuckiana Digital Library) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Holmes + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Rector of St. Mark's + +Author: Mary J. Holmes + +Release Date: November 2, 2006 [EBook #19702] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RECTOR OF ST. MARK'S *** + + + + +Produced by David Garcia and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Kentuckiana Digital Library) + + + + + +[Illustration] + + + + + RECTOR + OF + ST. MARKS + +[Illustration] + +[Illustration] + + THE + RECTOR OF ST. MARK'S + + BY + + MRS. MARY J. HOLMES + + AUTHOR OF "DORA DEANE," "MAGGIE MILLER," "LENA RIVERS," + "THE ENGLISH ORPHAN," ETC. + + M. A. DONOHUE & CO., + CHICAGO. + + * * * * * + + + + +THE RECTOR OF ST. MARK'S + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +FRIDAY AFTERNOON. + + +The Sunday sermon was finished, and the young rector of St. Mark's +turned gladly from his study-table to the pleasant south window where +the June roses were peeping in, and abandoned himself for a few +moments to the feeling of relief he always experienced when his week's +work was done. To say that no secular thoughts had intruded themselves +upon the rector's mind, as he planned and wrote that sermon, would not +be true; for, though morbidly conscientious on many points and +earnestly striving to be a faithful shepherd of the souls committed to +his care, Arthur Leighton possessed the natural desire that those who +listened to him should not only think well of what he taught but also +of the form in which the teaching was presented. When he became a +clergyman he did not cease to be a man, with all a man's capacity to +love and to be loved, and so, though he fought and prayed against it, +he had seldom brought a sermon to the people of St. Mark's in which +there was not a thought of Anna Ruthven's soft, brown eyes, and the +way they would look at him across the heads of the congregation. Anna +led the village choir, and the rector was painfully conscious that far +too much of earth was mingled with his devotional feelings during the +moments when, the singing over, he walked from his armchair to the +pulpit and heard the rustle of the crimson curtain in the organ loft +as it was drawn back, disclosing to view the five heads of which +Anna's was the center. It was very wrong, he knew, and to-day he had +prayed earnestly for pardon, when, after choosing his text, "Simon, +Simon, lovest thou me?" instead of plunging at once into his subject, +he had, without a thought of what he was doing, idly written upon a +scrap of paper lying near, "Anna, Anna, lovest thou me, more than +these?" the these, referring to the wealthy Thornton Hastings, his old +classmate in college, who was going to Saratoga this very summer, for +the purpose of meeting Anna Ruthven and deciding if she would do to +become Mrs. Thornton Hastings, and mistress of the house on Madison +Square. With a bitter groan at the enormity of his sin, and a fervent +prayer for forgiveness, the rector had torn the slips of paper in +shreds and given himself so completely to his work that his sermon was +done a full hour earlier than usual, and he was free to indulge in +reveries of Anna for as long a time as he pleased. + +"I wonder if Mrs. Meredith has come," he thought, as, with his feet +upon the window-sill, he sat looking across the meadow-land to where +the chimneys and gable roof of Captain Humphreys' house was visible, +for Captain Humphreys was Anna Ruthven's grandfather, and it was there +she had lived since she was three years old. + +As if thoughts of Mrs. Meredith reminded him of something else, the +rector took from the drawer of his writing table a letter received the +previous day, and, opening to the second page, read again as follows: + + "Are you going anywhere this summer? Of course not, for so long + as there is an unbaptized child, or a bed-ridden old woman in the + parish, you must stay at home, even if you do grow as rusty as + did Professor Cobden's coat before we boys made him a present of + a new one. I say, Arthur, there was a capital fellow spoiled when + you took to the ministry, with your splendid talents, and rare + gift for making people like and believe in you. + + "Now, I suppose you will reply that for this denial of self you + look for your reward in heaven, and I suppose you are right; but + as I have no reason to think I have any stock in that region, I + go in for a good time here, and this summer I take it at + Saratoga, where I expect to meet one of your lambs. I hear you + have in your flock forty in all, their ages varying from fifteen + to fifty. But this particular lamb, Miss Anna Ruthven, is, I + fancy, the fairest of them all, and as I used to make you my + father confessor in the days when I was rusticated out in + Winsted, and fell so desperately in love with the six Miss + Larkins, each old enough to be my mother, so now I confide to you + the programme as marked out by Mrs. Julia Meredith, the general + who brings the lovely Anna into the field. + + "We, that is, Mrs. Meredith and myself, are on the best of + terms. I lunch with her, dine with her, lounge in her parlors, + drive her to the park, take her to the operas, concerts and + plays, and compliment her good looks, which are wonderfully well + preserved for a woman of forty-five. I am twenty-six, you know, + and so no one ever associates us together in any kind of gossip. + She is the very quintessence of fashion, and I am one of the + danglers whose own light is made brighter by the reflection of + her rays. Do you see the point? Well, then, in return for my + attentions, she takes a very sisterly interest in my future wife, + and has adroitly managed to let me know of her niece, a certain + Anna Ruthven, who, inasmuch as I am tired of city belles, will + undoubtedly suit my fancy, said Anna being very fresh, very + artless, and very beautiful withal. She is also niece to Mrs. + Meredith, whose only brother married very far beneath him, when + he took to wife the daughter of a certain old-fashioned Captain + Humphreys, a pillar, no doubt, in your church. This young Ruthven + was drowned, or hung, or something, and the sister considers it + as another proof of his wife's lack of refinement and discretion + that at her death, which happened when Anna was three years old, + she left her child to the charge of her own parents, Captain + Humphreys and spouse, rather than to Mrs. Meredith's care, and + that, too, in the very face of the lady's having stood as sponsor + for the infant, an act which you will acknowledge was very + unnatural and ungrateful in Mrs. Ruthven, to say the least of it. + + "You see I am telling you all this, just as if you did not know + Miss Anna's antecedents even better than myself, but possibly you + do not know that, having arrived at a suitable age, she is this + summer to be introduced into society at Saratoga, while I am + expected to fall in love with her at once and make her Mrs. + Hastings before another winter. Now, in your straightforward way + of putting things, don't imagine that Mrs. Meredith has + deliberately told me all this, for she has not, but I understand + her perfectly, and know exactly what she expects me to do. + Whether I do or not depends partly upon how I like Miss Anna, + partly upon how she likes me, and partly upon yourself. + + "Now, Arthur, you know, I was always famous for presentiments or + fancies, as you termed them, and the latest of these is that you + like Anna Ruthven. Do you? Tell me, honor bright, and by the + memory of the many scrapes you got me out of, and the many more + you kept me from getting into, I will treat Miss Anna as gingerly + and brotherly as if she was already your wife. I like her + picture, which I have seen, and believe I shall like the girl, + but if you say that by looking at her with longing eyes I shall + be guilty of breaking some one of the ten commandments--I don't + know which--why, then, hands off at once. That's fair, and will + prove to you that, although not a parson like yourself, there is + still a spark of honor, if not of goodness, in the breast of + + "Yours truly, + "THORNTON HASTINGS. + + "If you were here this afternoon, I'd take you to drive after a + pair of bays which are to sweep the stakes at Saratoga this + summer, and I'd treat you to a finer cigar than often finds its + way to Hanover. Shall I send you out a box, or would your people + pull down the church about the ears of a minister wicked enough + to smoke? Again adieu. + + "T. H." + +There was a half-amused smile on the face of the rector as he +finished the letter, so like its thoughtless, lighthearted writer, and +wondered what the Widow Rider, across the way, would say of a +clergyman who smoked cigars and rode after a race-horse with such a +gay scapegrace as Thornton Hastings. Then the amused look passed away, +and was succeeded by a shadow of pain as the rector remembered the +real import of Thornton's letter, and felt that he had no right to +say, "I have a claim on Anna Ruthven; you must not interfere." For he +had no claim on her, though half his parishioners, and many outside +his parish, had long ago given her to him, and said that she was +worthy; while he had loved her, as only natures like his can love, +since that week before Christmas, when their hands had met with a +strange, tremulous flutter, as together they fastened the wreaths of +evergreen upon the wall, he holding them up and she driving the +refractory tacks, which would keep falling in spite of her, so that +his hand went often from the carpet or basin to hers, and once +accidentally closed almost entirely over the little, soft, white +thing, which felt so warm to his touch. + +How prettily Anna had looked to him during those memorable days, so +much prettier than the other young girls of his flock, whose hair was +tumbled ere the day's work was done, and whose dresses were soiled and +disordered; while here was always so tidy and neat and the braids of +her chestnut hair were always so smooth and bright. How well, too, he +remembered that brief ten minutes, when, in the dusky twilight which +had crept so early into the church, he stood alone with her, and +talked, he did not know of what, only that he heard her voice replying +to him, and saw the changeful color on her cheek as she looked +modestly in his face. That was a week of delicious happiness, and the +rector had lived it over many times, wondering if, when the next +Christmas came, it would find him any nearer to Anna Ruthven than the +last had left him. + +"It must," he suddenly exclaimed. "The matter shall be settled before +she leaves Hanover with this Mrs. Meredith. My claim is superior to +Thornton's, and he shall not take her from me. I'll write what I lack +the courage to tell her, and to-morrow I will call and deliver it +myself." + +An hour later, and there was lying in the rector's desk a letter in +which he had told Anna Ruthven how much he loved her, and had asked +her to be his wife. Something whispered that she would not refuse him, +and with this hope to buoy him up, his two miles walk that warm +afternoon was neither long nor tiresome, and the old lady, by whose +bedside he had read and prayed, was surprised to hear him as he left +her door whistling an old love-tune which she, too, had known and sung +fifty years before. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +SATURDAY AFTERNOON. + + +Mrs. Julia Meredith had arrived, and the brown farmhouse was in a +state of unusual excitement; not that Captain Humphreys or his good +wife, Aunt Ruth, respected very highly the great lady who had so +seldom honored them with her presence, and who always tried so hard to +impress them with a sense of her superiority and the mighty favor she +conferred upon them by occasionally condescending to bring her +aristocratic presence into their quiet, plain household, and turn it +topsy-turvy. Still, she was Anna's aunt, and then, too, it was a +distinction which Aunt Ruth rather enjoyed, that of having a +fashionable city woman for her guest, and so she submitted with a good +grace to the breaking in upon all her customs, and uttered no word of +complaint when the breakfast table waited till eight, and sometimes +nine o'clock, and the freshest eggs were taken from the nest, and the +cream all skimmed from the pans to gratify the lady who came down very +charming and pretty in her handsome cambric wrapper, with rosebuds in +her hair. She had arrived the previous night, and while the rector was +penning his letter she was holding Anna's hand in hers, and, running +her eye rapidly over her face and form, was making an inventory of her +charms and calculating their value. + +A very graceful figure, neither too short nor too tall. This she gets +from the Ruthvens. Splendid eyes and magnificent hair, when Valencia +has once taken it in hand. Complexion a little too brilliant, but a +few weeks of dissipation will cure that. Fine teeth, and features +tolerably regular, except that the mouth is too wide, and the forehead +too low, which defects she takes from the Humphreys. Small feet and +rather pretty hands, except that they seem to have grown wide since I +saw her before. Can it be these horrid people have set her to milking +the cows? + +This was what Mrs. Meredith thought that first evening after her +arrival at the farmhouse, and she had not materially changed her mind +when the next afternoon she went with Anna down to the Glen, for which +she affected a great fondness, because she thought it was romantic and +girlish to do so, and she was far being past the period when women +cease caring for youth and its appurtenances. She had criticised +Anna's taste in dress--had said that the belt she selected did not +harmonize with the color of the muslin she wore, and suggested that a +frill of lace about the neck would be softer and more becoming than +the stiff white linen collar. + +"But in the country it does not matter," she said. "Wait till I get +you to New York, under Madam Blank's supervision, and then we shall +see a transformation such as will astonish the humble Hanoverians." + +This was up in Anna's room, and when the Glen was reached Mrs. +Meredith continued the conversation, telling Anna of her plans for +taking her first to New York, where she was to pass through a +reformatory process with regard to dress. Then they were going to +Saratoga, where she expected her niece to reign supreme; both as a +beauty and a belle. + +"Whatever I have left at my death I shall leave to you," she said; +"consequently you will pass as an heiress expectant, and with all +these aids I confidently expect you to make a brilliant match before +the winter season closes, if, indeed, you do not before you leave +Saratoga." + +"Oh, aunt," Anna exclaimed, her brown eyes flashing with unwonted +brilliancy, and the rich color mantling her cheek. "You surely are not +taking me to Saratoga on such a shameful errand as that?" + +"Shameful errand as what?" Mrs. Meredith asked, looking quickly up, +while Anna replied: + +"Trying to find a husband. I cannot go if you are, much as I have +anticipated it. I should despise and hate myself forever. No, aunt, I +cannot go." + +"Nonsense, child. You don't know what you are saying," Mrs. Meredith +retorted, feeling intuitively that she must change her tactics and +keep her real intentions concealed if she would lead her niece into +the snare laid for her. + +Cunningly and carefully for the next half hour she talked, telling +Anna that she was not to be thrust upon the notice of any one--that +she herself had no patience with those intriguing mammas who push +their bold daughters forward, but that as a good marriage was the +_ultima thule_ of a woman's hopes, it was but natural that she, as +Anna's aunt, should wish to see her well settled in life, and settled, +too, near herself, where they could see each other every day. + +"Of course, there is no one in Hanover whom you, as a Ruthven, would +stoop to marry," she said, fixing her eyes inquiringly upon Anna, who +was pulling to pieces the wild flowers she had gathered, and thinking +of that twilight hour when she had talked with their young clergyman +as she never talked before. Of the many times, too, when they had met +in the cottages of the poor, and he had walked slowly home with her, +lingering by the gate, as if loth to say good-by, she thought, and the +life she had lived since he first came to Hanover, and she learned to +blush when she met the glance of his eye, looked fairer far than the +life her aunt, had marked out as the proper one for a Ruthven. + +"You have not told me yet. Is there any one in Hanover whom you think +worthy of you?" Mrs. Meredith asked, just as a footstep was heard, and +the rector of St. Mark's came round the rock where they were sitting. + +He had called at the farmhouse, bringing the letter, and with it a +book of poetry, of which Anna had asked the loan. + +Taking advantage of her guest's absence, Grandma Humphreys had gone to +a neighbor's after a recipe for making a certain kind of cake of which +Mrs. Meredith was very fond, and only Esther, the servant, and +Valencia, the smart waiting maid, without whom Mrs. Meredith never +traveled, were left in charge. + +"Down in the Glen with Mrs. Meredith. Will you be pleased to wait +while I call them?" Esther said, in reply to the rector's inquiries +for Miss Ruthven. + +"No, I will find them myself," Mr. Leighton rejoined. Then, as he +thought how impossible it would be to give the letter to Anna in the +presence of her aunt, he slipped it into the book which he bade Esther +take to Miss Ruthven's room. + +Knowing how honest and faithful Esther was, the rector felt that he +could trust her without fear for the safety of his letter, sought the +Glen, where the tell-tale blushes which burned on Anna's cheek at +sight of him more than compensated for the coolness with which Mrs. +Meredith greeted him. She, too, had detected Anna's embarrassment, and +when the stranger was presented to her as "Mr. Leighton, our +clergyman," the secret was out. + +"Why is it that since the beginning of time girls have run wild after +young ministers?" was her mental comment, as she bowed to Mr. +Leighton, and then quietly inspected his _personnel_. + +There was nothing about Arthur Leighton's appearance with which she +could find fault. He was even finer looking than Thornton Hastings, +her _beau ideal_ of a man, and as he stood a moment by Anna's side, +looking down upon her, the woman of the world acknowledged to herself +that they were a well-assorted pair, and as across the chasm of twenty +years there came back to her an episode in her life, when, on just +such a day as this, she had answered "no" to one as young and worthy +as Arthur Leighton, while all the time the heart was clinging to him, +she softened for a moment, and by the memory of the weary years passed +with the rich old man whose name she bore, she was tempted to leave +alone the couple standing there before her, and looking into each +other's eyes with a look which she could not mistake. But when she +remembered that Arthur was only a poor clergyman, and thought of that +house on Madison Square which Thornton Hastings owned, the softened +mood was changed, and Arthur Leighton's chance with her was gone. + +Awhile they talked together in the Glen, and then walked back to the +farmhouse, where the rector bade them good evening, after casually +saying to Anna: + +"I have brought the book you spoke of when I was here last. You will +find it in your room, where I asked Esther to take it." + +That Mr. Leighton should bring her niece a book did not seem strange +at all, but that he should be so very thoughtful as to tell Esther to +take it to her room struck her as rather odd, and as the practiced +war-horse scents the battle from afar, so Mrs. Meredith at once +suspected something wrong, and felt a curiosity to know what the book +could be. + +It was lying on Anna's table as she reached the door on her way to her +own room, and, pausing for a moment, she entered the chamber, took it +in her hands, read the title page, and then opened it to where the +letter lay. + +"Miss Anna Ruthven," she said. "He writes a fair hand;" and then, as +the thought, which at first was scarce a thought, kept growing in her +mind, she turned it over, and found that, owing to some defect, it had +become unsealed and the lid of the envelope lay temptingly open before +her. "I would never break a seal," she said, "but surely, as her +protector and almost mother, I may read what this minister has written +to my niece." + +She read what he had written, while a scowl of disapprobation marred +the smoothness of her brow. + +"It is as I feared. Once let her see this, and Thornton Hastings may +woo in vain. But it shall not be. It is my duty as the sister of her +dead father, to interfere and not let her throw herself away." + +Perhaps Mrs. Meredith really felt that she was doing her duty. At all +events, she did not give herself much time to reason upon the matter, +for, startled by a slight movement in the room directly opposite, the +door of which was ajar, she thrust the letter into her pocket and +turned to see--Valencia, standing with her back to her, and arranging +her hair in a mirror which hung upon the wall. + +"She could not have seen me; and, even if she did, she would not +suspect the truth," was the guilty woman's thought, as, with the +stolen missive in her pocket, she went down to the parlor and tried, +by petting Anna more than her wont, to still the voice of conscience +which clamored loudly of the wrong, and urged a restoration of the +letter to the place whence it was taken. + +But the golden moment fled, and when, later in the evening, Anna went +up to her chamber and opened the book which the rector had brought, +she never suspected how near she had been to the great happiness she +had sometimes dared to hope for, or dreamed how fervently Arthur +Leighton prayed that night that, if it were possible, God would grant +the boon he craved above all others--the priceless gift of Anna +Ruthven's love. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +SUNDAY. + + +There was an unnatural flush on the rector's face, and his lips were +very white when he came before his people that Sunday morning, for he +felt that he was approaching the crisis of his fate; that he had only +to look across the row of heads up to where Anna sat, and he should +know the truth. Such thoughts savored far too much of the world which +he had renounced, he knew, and he had striven to banish them from his +mind; but they were there still, and would be there until he had +glanced once at Anna, occupying her accustomed seat, and quietly +turning to the chant she was so soon to sing: "Oh, come, let us sing +unto the Lord; let us heartily rejoice in the strength of His +salvation." The words echoed through the house, filling it with rare +melody, for Anna was in perfect tone that morning, and the rector, +listening to her with hands folded upon his prayer-book, felt that she +could not thus "heartily rejoice," meaning all the while to darken his +whole life, as she surely would if she told him "no." He was looking +at her now, and she met his eyes at last, but quickly dropped her own, +while he was sure that the roses burned a little brighter on her +cheek, and that her voice trembled just enough to give him hope, and +help him in his fierce struggle to cast her from his mind and think +only of the solemn services in which he was engaging. He could not +guess that the proud woman who had sailed so majestically into church, +and followed so reverently every prescribed form, bowing in the creed +far lower than ever bow was made before in Hanover, had played him +false and was the dark shadow in his path. + +That day was a trying one for Arthur, for, just as the chant was ended +and the psalter was beginning, a handsome carriage dashed up to the +door, and, had he been wholly blind, he would have known, by the +sudden sound of turning heads and the suppressed hush which ensued, +that a perfect hailstorm of dignity was entering St. Mark's. + +It was the Hethertons, from Prospect Hill, whose arrival in town had +been so long expected. Mrs. Hetherton, who, more years ago than she +cared to remember, was born in Hanover, but who had lived most of her +life either in Paris, New York or New Orleans and who this year had +decided to fit up her father's old place, and honor it with her +presence for a few weeks at least; also, Fanny Hetherton, a brilliant +brunette, into whose intensely black eyes no one could long look, they +were so bright, so piercing, and seemed so thoroughly to read one's +inmost thoughts; also, Colonel Hetherton, who had served in the +Mexican war, and, retiring on the glory of having once led a forlorn +hope, now obtained his living by acting as attendant on his +fashionable wife and daughter; also, young Dr. Simon Bellamy who, +while obedient to the flashing of Miss Fanny's black eyes, still found +stolen opportunities for glancing at the fifth and last remaining +member of the party, filing up the aisle to the large, square pew, +where old Judge Howard used to sit, and which was still owned by his +daughter. Mrs. Hetherton liked being late at church, and so, +notwithstanding that the Colonel had worked himself into a tempest of +excitement, had tied and untied her bonnet-strings half a dozen times, +changed her rich basquine for a thread lace mantilla, and then, just +as the bell from St. Mark's gave forth its last note, and her +husband's impatience was oozing out in sundry little oaths, sworn +under his breath, she produced and fitted on her fat, white hands a +new pair of Alexander's, keeping herself as cool, and quiet, and +ladylike as if outside upon the graveled walk there was no wrathful +husband threatening to drive off and leave her, if she did not "quit +her cussed vanity, and come along." + +Such was the Hetherton party, and they created quite as great a +sensation as Mrs. Hetherton could desire, first upon the commoners, +the people nearest the door, who rented the cheaper pews; then upon +those farther up the aisle, and then upon Mrs. Meredith, who, +attracted by the rustling of heavy silk and aristocratic perfume +emanating from Mrs. Hetherton's handkerchief, slightly turned her head +at first, and, as the party swept by, stopped her reading entirely and +involuntarily started forward, while a smile of pleasure flitted +across her face as Fanny's black, saucy eyes took her, with others, +within their range of vision, and Fanny's black head nodded a quick +nod of recognition. The Hethertons and Mrs. Meredith were evidently +friends, and in her wonder at seeing them there, in stupid Hanover, +the great lady forgot for a while to read, but kept her eyes upon them +all, especially upon the fifth and last mentioned member of the party, +the graceful little blonde, whose eyes might have caught their hue +from the deep blue of the summer sky, and whose long, silken curls +fell in a golden shower beneath the fanciful French hat. She was a +beautiful young creature, and even Anna Ruthven leaned forward to look +at her as she shook out her airy muslin and dropped into her seat. For +a moment the little coquettish head bowed reverently, but at the first +sound of the rector's voice it lifted itself up quickly, and Anna saw +the bright color which rushed into her cheeks and the eager joy which +danced in the blue eyes, fixed so earnestly upon the rector, who, at +sight of her, started suddenly and paused an instant in his reading. +Who was she, and what was she to Arthur Leighton? Anna asked herself, +while, by the fierce pang which shot through her heart, as she watched +the stranger and the clergyman, she knew that she loved the rector of +St. Mark's, even if she doubted it before. + +Anna was not an ill-tempered girl, but the sight of those gay city +people annoyed her, and when, at she sang the Jubilate Deo, she saw +the soft blue orbs of the blonde and the coal-black eyes of the +brunette, turning wonderingly toward her, she was conscious of +returning their glance with as much of scorn as it was possible for +her to show. Anna tried to ask forgiveness for that feeling in the +prayers which followed; but, when the services were over, and she saw +a little figure in blue and white flitting up the aisle to where +Arthur, still in his robes, stood waiting for her, an expression upon +his face which she could not define, she felt that she had prayed in +vain; and, with a bitterness she had never before experienced, she +watched the meeting between them, growing more and more bitter as she +saw the upturned face, the wreathing of the rosebud lips into the +sweetest of smiles, and the tiny white hand, which Arthur took and +held while he spoke words she would have given much to hear. + +"Why do I care? It's nothing to me," she thought, and, with a proud +step, she was leaving the church, when her aunt, who was shaking hands +with the Hethertons, signed for her to join her. + +The blonde was now coming down the aisle with Mr. Leighton, and +joined the group just as Anna was introduced as "My niece, Miss Anna +Ruthven." + +"Oh, you are the Anna of whom I have heard so much from Ada Fuller. +You were at school together in Troy," Miss Fanny said, her searching +eyes taking in every point as if she were deciding how far her new +acquaintance was entitled to the praise she had heard bestowed upon +her. + +"I know Miss Fuller--yes;" and Anna bowed haughtily, turning next to +the blonde, Miss Lucy Harcourt, who was telling Colonel Hetherton how +she had met Mr. Leighton first among the Alps, and afterwards traveled +with him until the party returned to Paris, where he left them for +America. + +"I was never so surprised in my life as I was to find him here. Why, +it actually took my breath for a moment," she went on, "and I greatly +fear that, instead of listening to his sermon, I have been roaming +amid that Alpine scenery and basking again in the soft moonlight of +Venice. I heard you singing, though," she said, when Anna was +presented to her, "and it helped to keep up the illusion--it was so +like the music heard from a gondola that night, when Mr. Leighton and +myself made a voyage through the streets of Venice. Oh, it was so +beautiful," and the blue eyes turned to Mr. Leighton for confirmation +of what the lips had uttered. + +"Which was beautiful?--Miss Ruthven's singing or that moonlight night +in Venice?" young Bellamy asked, smiling down upon the little lady who +still held Anna's hand, and who laughingly replied: + +"Both, of course, though the singing is just now freshest in my +memory. I like it so much. You must have had splendid teachers," and +she turned again to Anna, whose face was suffused with blushes as she +met the rector's eyes, for to his suggestions and criticisms and +teachings she owed much of that cultivation which had so pleased and +surprised the stranger. + +"Oh, yes, I see it was Arthur. He tried to train me once, and told me +I had a squeak in my voice. Don't you remember?--those frightfully +rainy days in Rome?" Miss Harcourt said, the Arthur dropping from her +lips as readily as if they had always been accustomed to speak it. + +She was a talkative, coquettish little lady, but there was something +about her so genuine and cordial, that Anna felt the ice thawing +around her heart, and even returned the pressure of the snowy fingers +which had twined themselves around her, as Lucy rattled on until the +whole party left the church. It had been decided that Mrs. Meredith +should call at Prospect Hill as early as Tuesday, at least; and, still +holding Anna's hand Miss Harcourt whispered to her the pleasure it +would be to see her again. + +"I know I am going to like you. I can tell directly I can see a +person--can't I Arthur?" and, kissing her hand to Mrs. Meredith, Anna, +and the rector, too, she sprang into the carriage, and was whirled +rapidly away. + +"Who is she?" Anna asked, and Mr. Leighton replied: + +"She is an orphan niece of Colonel Hetherton's, and a great heiress, I +believe, though I never paid much attention to the absurd stories told +concerning her wealth." + +"You met in Europe?" Mrs. Meredith said, and he replied: + +"Yes, she has been quite an invalid, and has spent four years abroad, +where I accidentally met her. It was a very pleasant party, and I was +induced to join it, though I was with them in all not more than four +months." + +He told this very rapidly, and an acute observer would have seen that +he did not care particularly to talk of Lucy Harcourt, with Anna for +an auditor. She was walking very demurely at his side, pondering in +her mind the circumstances which could have brought the rector and +Lucy Harcourt into such familiar relations as to warrant her calling +him Arthur and appear so delighted to see him. + +"Can it be there was anything between them?" she thought, and her +heart began to harden against the innocent Lucy, at that very moment +chatting so pleasantly of her and of Arthur, too, replying to Mrs. +Hetherton, who suggested that Mr. Leighton would be more appropriate +for a clergyman. + +"I shall say Arthur, for he told me I might that time we were in Rome. +I could not like him as well if I called him Mr. Leighton. Isn't he +splendid, though, in his gown, and wasn't his sermon grand?" + +"What was the text?" asked Dr. Bellamy, mischievously, and, with a +toss of her golden curls and a merry twinkle of her eyes, Lucy +replied, "Simon, Simon, lovest thou me?" + +Quick as a flash of lightning the hot blood mounted to the doctor's +face, while Fanny cast upon him a searching glance as if she would +read him through. Fanny Hetherton would have given much to know the +answer which Dr. Simon Bellamy mentally gave to that question, put by +one whom he had known but little more than three months. It was not +fair for Lucy to steal away all Fanny's beaux, as she surely had been +doing ever since her feet touched the soil of the New World, and truth +to tell, Fanny had borne it very well, until young Dr. Bellamy showed +signs of desertion. Then the spirit of resistance was roused, and she +watched her lover narrowly, gnashing her teeth sometimes when she saw +his ill-concealed admiration for her sprightly little cousin, who +could say and do with perfect impunity so many things which in another +would have been improper to the last degree. She was a tolerably +correct reader of human nature, and, from the moment she witnessed the +meeting between Lucy and the rector of St. Marks, she took courage, +for she readily guessed the channel in which her cousin's preference +ran. The rector, however, she could not read so well; but few men she +knew could withstand the fascinations of her cousin, backed as they +were, by the glamour of half a million; and, though her mother, and, +possibly, her father, too, would be shocked at the _mesalliance_ and +throw obstacles in the way, she was capable of removing them all, and +she would do it, too, sooner than lose the only man she had ever cared +for. These were Fanny's thoughts as she rode home from church that +Sunday afternoon, and, by the time Prospect Hill was reached, Lucy +Harcourt could not have desired a more powerful ally than she +possessed in the person of her resolute, strong-willed cousin. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +BLUE MONDAY. + + +It was to all intents and purposes "blue Monday" with the rector of +St. Mark's, for, aside from the weariness and exhaustion which always +followed his two services on Sunday, and his care of the Sunday +school, there was a feeling of disquiet and depression, occasioned +partly by that _rencontre_ with pretty Lucy Harcourt, and partly by +the uncertainty as to what Anna's answer might be. He had seen the +look of displeasure on her face as she stood watching him and Lucy, +and though to many this would have given hope, it only added to his +nervous fears lest his suit should be denied. He was sorry that Lucy +Harcourt was in the neighborhood, and sorrier still for her tenacious +memory, which had evidently treasured up every incident which he could +wish forgotten. With Anna Ruthven absorbing every thought and feeling +of his heart, it was not pleasant to remember what had been a genuine +flirtation between himself and the sparkling belle he had met among +the Alps. + +It was nothing but a flirtation, he knew, for in his inmost soul he +absolved himself from ever having had a thought of matrimony connected +with Lucy Harcourt. He had admired her greatly and loved to wander +with her amid the Alpine scenery, listening to her wild bursts of +enthusiasm, and watching the kindling light in her blue eyes, and the +color coming to her thin, pale cheeks, as she gazed upon some scene of +grandeur, nestling close to him as for protection, when the path was +fraught with peril. + +Afterwards, in Venice, beneath the influence of those glorious +moonlight nights, he had been conscious of a deeper feeling which, had +he tarried longer at the siren's side, might have ripened into love. +But he left her in time to escape what he felt would have been a most +unfortunate affair for him, for, sweet and beautiful as she was, Lucy +was not the wife for a clergyman to choose. She was not like Anna +Ruthven, whom both young and old had said was so suitable for him. + +"And just because she is suitable, I may not win her, perhaps," he +thought, as he paced up and down his library, wondering when she would +answer his letter, and wondering next how he could persuade Lucy +Harcourt that between the young theological student, sailing in a +gondola through the streets of Venice, and the rector of St. Mark's, +there was a vast difference; that while the former might be Arthur +with perfect propriety, the latter should be Mr. Leighton, in Anna's +presence, at least. + +And yet the rector of St. Mark's was conscious of a pleasurable +emotion, even now, as he recalled the time when she had, at his own +request, first called him Arthur, her bird-like voice hesitating just +a little, and her soft eyes looking coyly up to him, as she said: + +"I am afraid that Arthur is hardly the name by which to call a +clergyman." + +"I am not in orders yet, so let me be Arthur to you. I love to hear +you call me so, and you to me shall be Lucy," was his reply. + +A mutual clasp of hands had sealed the compact, and that was the +nearest to love-making of anything which had passed between them, if +we except the time when he had said good-by, and wiped away a tear +which came unbidden to her eye as she told him how lonely she would be +without him. + +Hers was a nature as transparent as glass, and the young man, who for +days had paced the ship's deck so moodily, was fighting back the +thoughts which had whispered that in his intercourse with her he had +not been all guiltless, and that if in her girlish heart there was a +feeling for him stronger than that of friendship he had helped to give +it life. + +Time and absence and Anna Ruthven had obliterated all such thoughts +till now, when Lucy herself had brought them back again with her +winsome ways, and her evident intention to begin just where they had +left off. + +"Let Anna tell me yes, and I will at once proclaim our engagement, +which will relieve me from all embarrassments in that quarter," the +clergyman was thinking, just as his housekeeper came up, bringing him +two notes--one in a strange handwriting, and the other in the +graceful, running hand which he recognized as Lucy Harcourt's. + +This he opened first, reading as follows: + + Prospect Hill, June--. + + "MR. LEIGHTON: Dear Sir--Cousin Fanny is to have a picnic down + in the west woods to-morrow afternoon, and she requests the + pleasure of your presence. Mrs. Meredith and Miss Ruthven are to + be invited. Do come. + "Yours truly, + "LUCY." + +Yes, he would go, and if Anna's answer had not come before, he would +ask her for it. There would be plenty of opportunities down in those +deep woods. On the whole, it would be pleasanter to hear the answer +from her own lips, and see the blushes on her cheeks when he tried to +look into her eyes. + +The imaginative rector could almost see those eyes, and feel the touch +of her hand as he took the other note--the one which Mrs. Meredith had +shut herself in her bedroom to write, and sent slyly by Valencia, who +was to tell no one where she had been. + +A gleam of intelligence shot from Valencia's eyes as she took the note +and carried it safely to the parsonage, never yielding to the +temptation to read it, just as she had read the one abstracted from +the book, returning it when read to her mistress's pocket, where she +had found it while the family were at church. + +Mrs. Meredith's note was as follows: + + "MY DEAR MR. LEIGHTON: It is my niece's wish that I answer the + letter you were so kind as to inclose in the book left for her + last Saturday. She desires me to say that, though she has a very + great regard for you as her clergyman and friend, she cannot be + your wife, and she regrets exceedingly if she has in any way led + you to construe the interest she has always manifested in you + into a deeper feeling. + + "She begs me to say that it gives her great pain to refuse one so + noble and good as she knows you to be, and she only does it + because she cannot find in her heart the love without which no + marriage can be happy. + + "She is really very wretched about it, because she fears she may + lose your friendship, and, as a proof that she has not, she asks + that the subject may never in any way, be alluded to again; that + when you meet it may be exactly as heretofore, without a word or + sign on your part that ever you offered her the highest honor a + man can offer a woman. + + "And sure I am, my dear Mr. Leighton, that you will accede to her + wishes. I am very sorry it has occurred, sorry for you both, and + especially sorry for you; but, believe me, you will get over it + in time and come to see that my niece is not a proper person to + be a clergyman's wife. + + "Come and see us as usual. You will find Anna appearing very + natural. + + "Yours cordially and sincerely, + "JULIE MEREDITH." + +This was the letter which the cruel woman had written, and it dropped +from the rector's nerveless fingers as, with a groan, he bent his head +upon the back of a chair, and tried to realize the magnitude of the +blow which had fallen so suddenly upon him. Not till now did he +realize how, amid all his doubts, he had still been sure of winning +her, and the shock was terrible. + +He had staked his all on Anna, and lost all; the world, which before +had been so bright, looked very dreary now, while he felt that he +could never again come before his people weighed down with so great a +load of pain and humiliation: for it touched the young man's pride +that, not content to refuse him, Anna had chosen another than herself +as the medium through which her refusal must be conveyed to him. He +did not fancy Mrs. Meredith. He would rather she did not possess his +secret, and it hurt him cruelly to know that she did. + +It was a bitter hour for the clergyman, for, strong and clear as was +his faith in God, who doeth all things well, he lost sight of it for a +time, and poor weak human nature cried: + +"It's more than I can bear." + +But as the mother does not forget her child, even though she passes +from her sight, so God had not forgotten, and the darkness broke at +last--the lips could pray again for strength to bear and faith to do +all that God might require. + +"Though He slay me I will trust Him," came like a ray of sunlight +into the rector's mind, and ere the day was over he could say with a +full heart, "Thy will be done." + +He was very pale, and his lip quivered occasionally as he thought of +all he had lost, while a blinding headache, induced by strong +excitement, drove him nearly wild with pain. He had been subject to +headaches all his life, but he had never suffered as he was suffering +now but once, and that was on a rainy day in Rome, when, boasting of +her mesmeric power, Lucy had stood by him, and passed her dimpled +hands soothingly across his throbbing temples. + +Those little hands, how soft and cool they were--but they had not +thrilled him as the touch of Anna's did when they hung the Christmas +wreaths and she wore that bunch of scarlet berries in her hair. + +That time seemed very far away, farther even than Rome and the +moonlight nights of Venice. He did not like to think of it, for the +bright hopes which were budding then were blighted now and dead; and, +with a moan, he laid his aching head upon his pillow and tried to +forget all he had ever hoped or longed for in the future. + +"She will marry Thornton Hastings. He is a more eligible match than a +poor clergyman," he said, and then, as he remembered Thornton's +letter, and that his man Thomas would be coming soon to ask if there +were letters to be taken to the office, he arose, and, going to the +study table, wrote hastily: + + "DEAR THORNE: I am suffering from one of those horrid headaches + which used to make me as weak as a helpless woman, but I will + write just enough to say that I have no claim on Anna Ruthven, + and you are free to press your suit as urgently as you please. + She is a noble girl, worthy even to be Mrs. Thornton Hastings, + and if I cannot have her, I would rather give her to you than any + one I know. Only don't ask me to perform the ceremony. + + "There, I've let the secret out; but no matter, I have always + confided in you, and so I may as well confess that I have offered + myself and been refused. Yours truly, + + "ARTHUR LEIGHTON." + +The rector felt better after that letter was written. He had told his +grievance to some one, and it seemed to have lightened half. + +"Thorne is a good fellow," he said, as he directed the letter. "A +little fast, it's true, but a splendid fellow, after all. He will +sympathize with me in his way, and I would rather give Anna to him +than any other living man." + +Arthur was serious in what he said, for, wholly unlike as they were, +there was between him and Thornton Hastings one of those strong, +peculiar friendships which sometimes exist between two men, but rarely +between two women, of so widely different temperaments. They had +roomed together four years in college, and countless were the +difficulties from which the sober Arthur had extricated the luckless +Thorne, while many a time the rather slender means of Arthur had been +increased in a way so delicate that expostulation was next to +impossible. + +Arthur was better off now in worldly goods, for, by the death of an +uncle, he had come in possession of a few thousand dollars, which +enabled him to travel in Europe for a year, and left a surplus, from +which he had fed the poor and needy with not sparing hand. + +St. Mark's was his first parish, and, though he could have chosen one +nearer to New York, where the society was more congenial to his taste, +he had accepted what God offered to him, and been very happy there, +especially since Anna Ruthven came home from Troy and made such havoc +with his heart. He did not believe he should ever be quite so happy +again, but he would try to do his work, and take thankfully whatever +of good might come to him. + +This was his final decision, and when at last he laid him down to +rest, the wound, though deep and sore, and bleeding yet, was not quite +as hard to bear as it had been earlier in the day, when it was fresh +and raw, and faith and hope seemed swept away. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +TUESDAY. + + +That open grassy spot in the dense shadow of the west woods was just +the place for a picnic, and it looked very bright and pleasant that +warm June afternoon, with the rustic table so fancifully arranged, the +camp stools scattered over the lawn, and the bouquets of flowers +depending from the trees. + +Fanny Hetherton had given it her whole care, aided and abetted by Dr. +Bellamy, what time he could spare from Lucy, who, imbued with a mortal +fear of insects, seemed this day to gather scores of bugs and worms +upon her dress and hair, screaming with every worm and bringing the +doctor obediently to her aid. + +"I'd stay at home, I think, if I was silly enough to be afraid of a +harmless caterpillar like that," Fanny had said, as with her own hands +she took from Lucy's curls and threw away a thousand-legged thing, the +very sight of which made poor Lucy shiver but did not send her to the +house. + +She was too much interested and too eagerly expectant of what the +afternoon would bring, and so she perched herself upon the fence where +nothing but ants could molest her, and finished the bouquets which +Fanny hung upon the trees until the lower limbs seemed one mass of +blossoms and the air was filled with the sweet perfume. + +Lucy was bewitchingly beautiful that afternoon in her dress of white, +her curls tied up with a blue ribbon, and her fair arms bare nearly to +the shoulders. Fanny, whose arms were neither plump nor white, had +expostulated with her cousin upon this style of dress, suggesting that +one as delicate as she could not fail to take a heavy cold when the +dews began to fall, but Lucy would not listen. Arthur Leighton had +told her once that he liked her with bare arms, and bare they should +be. She was bending every energy to please and captivate him, and a +cold was of no consequence provided she succeeded. So, like some +little fairy, she danced and flitted about, making fearful havoc with +Dr. Bellamy's wits and greatly vexing Fanny, who hailed with delight +the arrival of Mrs. Meredith and Anna. The latter was very pretty and +very becomingly attired in a light airy dress of blue, finished at the +throat and wrists with an edge of soft, fine lace. She, too, had +thought of Arthur in the making of her toilet, and it was for him that +the white rosebuds were placed in her heavy braids of hair and +fastened on her belt. She was very sorry that she had allowed herself +to be vexed with Lucy Harcourt for her familiarity with Mr. Leighton, +very hopeful that he had not observed it, and very certain now of his +preference for herself. She would be very gracious that afternoon, she +thought, and not one bit jealous of Lucy, though she called him Arthur +a hundred times. + +Thus it was in the most amiable of moods that Anna appeared upon the +lawn, where she was warmly welcomed by Lucy, who, seizing both her +hands, led her away to see the arrangements, chatting gayly all the +time, and casting rapid glances up the lane, as if in quest of some +one. + +"I'm so glad you've come. I've thought of you so much. Do you know it +seems to me there must be some bond of sympathy between us, or I +should not like you so well at once? I drove by the rectory early this +morning--the dearest little place, with such a lovely garden. Arthur +was working in it, and I made him give me some roses. See, I have one +in my curls. Then, when he brought them to the carriage, I kept him +there while I asked numberless questions about you, and heard from him +just how good you are, and how you help him in the Sunday-school and +everywhere, visiting the poor, picking up ragged children and doing +things I never thought of doing; but I am not going to be so useless +any longer, and the next time you visit some of the very miserablest I +want you to take me with you. Do you ever meet Arthur there? Oh, here +he comes," and with a bound, Lucy darted away from Anna toward the +spot where the rector stood receiving Mrs. and Miss Hetherton's +greeting. + +As Lucy had said, she had driven by the rectory, with no earthly +object but the hope of seeing the rector, and had hurt him cruelly +with her questionings of Anna, and annoyed him a little with her +anxious inquiries as to the cause of his pallid face and sunken eyes; +but she was so bewitchingly pretty, and so thoroughly kind withal, +that he could not be annoyed long, and he felt better for having seen +her bright, coquettish face, and listened to her childish prattle. It +was a great trial for him to attend the picnic that afternoon, but he +met it bravely, and schooled himself to appear as if there were no +such things in the world as aching hearts and cruel disappointments. +His face was very pale, but his recent headache would account for +that, and he acted his part successfully, shivering a little, it is +true, when Anna expressed her sorrow that he should suffer so often +from these attacks, and suggested that he take a short vacation and go +with them to Saratoga. + +"I should so much like to have you," she said, and her clear, honest +eyes looked him straight in the face, as she asked why he could not. + +"What does she mean?" the rector thought. "Is she trying to tantalize +me? I expected her to be natural, as her aunt laid great stress on +that, but she need not overdo the matter by showing me how little she +cares for having hurt me so." + +Then, as a flash of pride came to his aid, he thought, "I will at +least be even with her. She shall not have the satisfaction of +guessing how much I suffer," and as Lucy then called to him from the +opposite side of the lawn, he asked Anna to accompany him thither, +just as he would have done a week before. Once that afternoon he found +himself alone with her in a quiet part of the woods, where the long +branches of a great oak came nearly to the ground, and formed a little +bower which looked so inviting that Anna sat down upon the gnarled +roots of the tree, and, tossing her hat upon the grass, exclaimed, +"How nice and pleasant it is here. Come, sit down, too, while I tell +you about my class in Sunday-school, and that poor Mrs. Hobbs across +the mill stream. You won't forget her, will you? I told her you would +visit her the oftener when I was gone. Do you know she cried because I +was going? It made me feel so badly that I doubted if it was right for +me to go," and, pulling down a handful of the oak leaves above her +head, Anna began weaving together a chaplet, while the rector stood +watching her with a puzzled expression upon his face. She did not act +as if she ever could have dictated that letter, but he had no +suspicion of the truth and answered rather coldly, "I did not suppose +you cared how much we might miss you at home." + +Something in his tone made Anna look up into his face, and her eyes +immediately filled with tears, for she knew that in some way she had +displeased him. + +"Then you mistake me," she replied, the tears still glittering on her +long eyelashes, and her fingers trembling among the oaken leaves. "I +do care whether I am missed or not." + +"Missed by whom?" the rector asked, and Anna impetuously replied, +"Missed by the parish poor, and by you, too, Mr. Leighton. You don't +know how often I shall think of you, or how sorry I am that----" + +She did not finish the sentence, for the rector had leaped madly at +the conclusion, and was down in the grass at her side with both her +hands in his. + +"Anna, oh Anna," he began so pleadingly, "have you repented of your +decision? Tell me that you have and it will make me so happy. I have +been so wretched ever since." + +She thought he meant her decision about going to Saratoga, and she +replied: "I have not repented, Mr. Leighton. Aunt Meredith thinks it +best, and so do I, though I am sorry for you, if you really do care so +much." + +Anna was talking blindly, her thoughts upon one subject, while the +rector's were upon another, and matters were getting somewhat mixed +when, "Arthur, Arthur, where are you?" came ringing through the woods +and Lucy Harcourt appeared, telling them that the refreshments were +ready. + +"We are only waiting for you two, wondering where you had gone, but +never dreaming that you had stolen away to make love," she said, +playfully, adding more earnestly as she saw the traces of agitation +visible in Anna's face, "and I do believe you were. If so, I beg +pardon for my intrusion." + +She spoke a little sharply and glanced inquiringly at Mr. Leighton; +who, feeling that he had virtually been repulsed a second time by +Anna, answered her, "On the contrary, I am very glad you came, and so, +I am sure, is Miss Anna. I am ready to join you at the table. Come, +Anna, they are waiting," and he offered his arm to the bewildered +girl, who replied, "Not just now, please. Leave me for a moment. I +won't be long." + +Very curiously Lucy looked at Anna and then at Mr. Leighton, who, +fully appreciating the feelings of the latter, said, by way of +explanation: "You see, she has not quite finished that chaplet, which, +I suspect, is intended for you. I think we had better leave her," and, +drawing Lucy's hand under his own, he walked away, leaving Anna more +stunned and pained than she had ever been before. Surely if love had +ever spoken in tone and voice and manner, it had spoken when Mr. +Leighton was kneeling on the grass, holding her hands in his. "Anna, +oh, Anna!" How she had thrilled at the sound of those words and waited +for what might follow next. Why had his manner changed so suddenly, +and why had he been so glad to be interrupted? Had he really no +intention of making love to her, and if he had, why did he rouse her +hopes so suddenly and then cruelly dash them to the ground? Was it +that he loved Lucy best, and that the sight of her froze the words +upon his lips? + +"Let him take her, then. He is welcome, for all of me," she thought; +and then, as a keen pang of shame and disappointment swept over her, +she laid her head for a moment upon the grass and wept bitterly. "He +must have seen what I expected and I care most for that," she sobbed, +resolving henceforth to guard herself at every point and do all that +lay in her power to further Lucy's interests, "He will thus see how +little I really care," she thought, and, lifting up her head, she tore +in fragments the wreath she had been making, but which she could not +now place on the head of her rival. + +Mr. Leighton was flirting terribly with her when she joined the party +assembled around the table, and he never once looked at Anna, though +he saw that her plate was well supplied with the best of everything, +and when at one draught she drained her glass of ice-water, he quietly +placed another within her reach, standing a little before her and +trying evidently to shield her from too critical observation. There +were two at least who were glad when the picnic was over, and various +were the private opinions of the company with regard to the +entertainment. Dr. Bellamy, who had been repeatedly foiled in his +attempts to be especially attentive to Lucy Harcourt, pronounced the +whole thing "a bore." Fanny, who had been highly displeased with the +doctor's deportment, came to the conclusion that the enjoyment did not +compensate for all the trouble, and while the rector thought he had +never spent a more thoroughly wretched day, and Anna would have given +worlds if she had stayed at home, Lucy declared that never in her life +had she had so perfectly delightful a time, always excepting, of +course, "that moonlight sail in Venice." + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +WEDNESDAY. + + +There was a heavy shower the night succeeding the picnic and the +morning following was as balmy and bright as June mornings are wont to +be after a fall of rain. They were always early risers at the +farmhouse, but this morning Anna, who had slept but little, arose +earlier than usual and, leaning from the window to inhale the bracing +air and gather a bunch of roses fresh with the glittering raindrops, +she felt her spirits grow lighter and wondered at her discomposure of +the previous day. Particularly was she grieved that she should have +harbored a feeling of bitterness toward Lucy Harcourt, who was not to +blame for having won the love she had been foolish enough to covet. + +"He knew her first," she said, "and if he has since been pleased with +me, the sight of her has won him back to his allegiance, and it is +right. She is a pretty creature, but strangely unsuited, I fear, to be +his wife," and then, as she remembered Lucy's wish to go with her when +next she visited the poor, she said: + +"I will take her to see the Widow Hobbs. That will give her some idea +of the duties which will devolve upon her as a rector's wife. I can go +directly there from Prospect Hill, where, I suppose, I must call with +Aunt Meredith." + +Anna made herself believe that in doing this she was acting only from +a magnanimous desire to fit Lucy for her work, if, indeed, she was to +be Arthur's wife--that in taking the mantle from her own shoulders, +and wrapping it around her rival, she was doing a most amiable deed, +when down in her inmost heart, where the tempter had put it, there was +an unrecognized wish to see how the little dainty girl would shrink +from the miserable abode, and recoil from the touch of the little, +dirty hands which were sure to be laid upon her dress if the children +were at home, and she waited a little impatiently to start on her +errand of mercy. + +It was four o'clock when, with her aunt, she arrived at Colonel +Hetherton's and found the family assembled upon the broad piazza, the +doctor dutifully holding the skein of worsted from which Miss Fanny +was crocheting, and Lucy playing with a kitten, whose movements were +scarcely more graceful than her own, as she sprang up and ran to +welcome Anna. + +"Oh, yes, I am delighted to go with you. Pray let us start at once," +she exclaimed, when, after a few moments of conversation, Anna told +where she was going. + +Lucy was very gayly dressed, enough so for a party, Anna thought, +smiling to herself as she imagined the startling effect the white +muslin and bright plaid ribbons would have upon the inmates of the +shanty where they were going. There was a remonstrance from Mrs. +Hetherton against her niece's walking so far, and Mrs. Meredith +suggested that they should ride, but to this Lucy objected. She meant +to take Anna's place among the poor when she was gone, she said, and +how was she ever to do it if she could not walk such a little way as +that? Anna, too, was averse to riding and she felt a kind of grim +satisfaction when, after a time, the little figure, which at first had +skipped along ahead with all the airiness of a bird, began to lag, and +even pant for breath, as the way grew steeper and the path more stony +and rough. Anna's evil spirit was in the ascendant that afternoon, +steeling her heart against Lucy's doleful exclamations, as one after +another her delicate slippers were torn, and the sharp thistles, of +which the path was full, penetrated to her soft flesh. Straight and +unbending as a young Indian, Anna walked on, shutting her ears against +the sighs of weariness which reached them from time to time. But when +there came a half sobbing cry of actual pain, she stopped suddenly and +turned towards Lucy, whose breath came gaspingly, and whose cheeks +were almost purple with the exertion she had made. + +"I cannot go any farther until I rest," she said, sinking down, +exhausted, upon a large flat rock beneath a walnut tree. + +Touched with pity at the sight of the heated face, from which the +sweat was dripping, Anna too sat down beside her, and, laying her +curly head in her lap, smoothed the golden hair, hating herself +cordially, as Lucy said: + +"You've walked so fast I could not keep up. You do not know, perhaps, +how weak I am, and how little it takes to tire me. They say my heart +is diseased, and an unusual excitement might kill me." + +"No, oh, no!" Anna answered with a shudder, as she thought of what +might have been the result of her rashness, and then she smoothed the +wet hair, which, dried by the warm sunbeams, coiled itself up in +golden masses, which her fingers softly threaded. + +"I did not know until that time in Venice, when Arthur talked to me +so good, trying to make me feel that it was not hard to die, even if I +was so young and the world so full of beauty," Lucy went on, her voice +sounding very low and her bright shoulder-knots of ribbon trembling +with the rapid beating of her heart. "When he was talking to me I +could almost be willing to die, but the moment he was gone the doubts +and fears came back, and death was terrible again. I was always better +with Arthur. Everybody is, and I think your seeing so much of him is +one reason why you are so good." + +"No, no, I am not good," and Anna's hands pressed hard upon the +girlish head lying in her lap. "I am wicked beyond what you can guess. +I led you this rough way when I might have chosen a smooth, though +longer, road, and walked so fast on purpose to worry you." + +"To worry me. Why should you wish to do that?" and, lifting up her +head, Lucy looked wonderingly at the conscience-stricken Anna, who +could not confess to the jealousy, but who, in all other respects, +answered truthfully, "I think an evil spirit possessed me for a time, +and I wanted to show you that it was not so nice to visit the poor as +you seemed to think; but I am sorry, oh, so sorry, and you'll forgive +me, won't you?" + +A loving kiss was pressed upon her lips and a warm cheek was laid +against her own, as Lucy said, "Of course, I'll forgive you, though I +do not quite understand why you should wish to discourage me or tease +me either, when I liked you so much from the first moment I heard your +voice and saw you in the choir. You don't dislike me, do you?" + +"No, oh, no. I love you very dearly," Anna replied, her tears falling +like rain upon the slight form she hugged so passionately to her, and +which she would willingly have borne in her arms the remainder of +their way, as a kind of penance for her past misdeeds; but Lucy was +much better, she said, and so the two, between whom there was now a +bond of love which nothing could sever, went on together to the low, +dismal house where the Widow Hobbs lived. + +The gate was off the hinges, and Lucy's muslin was torn upon a nail +as she passed through, while the long fringe of her fleecy shawl was +caught in the tall tufts of thistle growing by the path. In a muddy +pool of water a few rods from the house a flock of ducks were +swimming, pelted occasionally by the group of dirty, ragged children +playing on the grass, and who at sight of the strangers and the basket +Anna carried, sprang up like a flock of pigeons and came trooping +towards her. It was not the sweet, pastoral scene which Lucy had +pictured to herself, with Arthur for the background, and her ardor was +greatly dampened even before the threshold was crossed, and she stood +in the low, close room where the sick woman lay, her large eyes +unnaturally bright, and turned wistfully upon them as she entered. +There were ashes upon the hearth and ashes upon the floor, a +hair-brush upon the table and an empty plate upon the chair, with +swarms of flies sipping the few drops of molasses and feeding upon the +crumbs of bread left there by the elfish-looking child now in the bed +beside its mother. There was nothing but poverty--squalid, disgusting +poverty--visible everywhere, and Lucy grew sick and faint at the, to +her, unusual sight. + +"They have not lived here long. We only found them three weeks ago; +they will look better by and by," Anna whispered, feeling that some +apology was necessary for the destitution and filth visible +everywhere. + +Daintily removing the plate to the table, and carefully tucking up her +skirts, Lucy sat down upon the wooden chair and looked dubiously on +while Anna made the sick woman more tidy in appearance, and then fed +her from the basket of provisions which Grandma Humphreys had sent. + +"I never could do that," Lucy thought, as, shoving off the little +dirty hand fingering her shoulder-knots she watched Anna washing the +poor woman's face, bending over her pillow as unhesitatingly as if it +had been covered with ruffled linen like those at Prospect Hill, +instead of the coarse, soiled rag which hardly deserved the name of +pillow-case. "No, I never could do that," and the possible life with +Arthur which the maiden had more than once imagined began to look very +dreary, when, suddenly, a shadow darkened the door, and Lucy knew +before she turned her head that the rector was standing at her back, +the blood tingling through her veins with a delicious feeling; as, +laying both hands upon her shoulders, and bending over her so that she +felt his breath upon her brow he said: + +"What, my Lady Lucy here? I hardly expected to find two ministering +angels, though I was almost sure of one," and his fine eyes rested on +Anna with a strange, wistful look of tenderness, which neither she nor +Lucy saw. + +"Then you knew she was coming," Lucy said, an uneasy thought flashing +across her mind as she remembered the picnic, and the scene she had +stumbled upon. + +But Arthur's reply, "I did not know she was coming, I only knew it was +like her," reassured her for a time, making her resolve to emulate the +virtues which Arthur seemed to prize so highly. What a difference his +presence made in that wretched room! She did not mind the poverty now, +or care if her dress was stained with the molasses left in the chair, +and the inquisitive child with tattered gown and bare brown legs was +welcome to examine and admire the bright plaid ribbons as much as she +chose. + +Lucy had no thought for anything but Arthur, and the subdued +expression of his face as, kneeling by the sick woman's bedside, he +said the prayers she had hungered for more than for the contents of +Anna's basket, now being purloined by the children crouched upon the +hearth and fighting over the last bit of gingerbread. + +"Hush-sh, little one," and Lucy's white, jeweled hand rested on the +head of the principal belligerent, who, awed by the beauty of her face +and the authoritative tone of her voice, kept quiet till the prayer +was over and Arthur had risen from his knees. + +"Thank you, Lucy; I think I must constitute you my deaconess when Miss +Ruthven is gone. Your very presence has a subduing effect upon the +little savages. I never knew them so quiet before for a long time," +Arthur said to Lucy in a low tone, which, low as it was, reached +Anna's ear, but brought no pang of jealousy, or a sharp regret for +what she felt was lost forever. + +She was giving Lucy to Arthur Leighton, resolving that by every means +in her power she would further her rival's cause, and the hot tears +which dropped so fast upon Mrs. Hobbs' pillow while Arthur said the +prayer was but the baptism of that vow, and not, as Lucy thought, +because she felt so sorry for the suffering woman to whom she had +brought so much comfort. + +"God bless you wherever you go," she said, "and if there is any great +good which you desire, may He bring it to pass." + +"He never will--no, never," was the sad response in Anna's heart, as +she joined the clergyman and Lucy outside the door, the former +pointing to the ruined slippers and asking how she ever expected to +walk home in such dilapidated things. + +"I shall certainly have to carry you," he said, "or your blistered +feet will ever more be thrust forward as a reason why you cannot be my +deaconess." + +He seemed to be in unusual spirits that afternoon, and the party went +gaily on, Anna keeping a watchful care over Lucy, picking out the +smoothest places and passing her arm around her slender waist as they +were going up a hill. + +"I think it would be better if you both leaned on me," the rector +said, offering each an arm, and apologizing for not having thought to +do so before. + +"I do not need it, thank you, but Miss Harcourt does. I fear she is +very tired," said Anna, pointing to Lucy's face, which was so white +and ghastly; so like the face seen once before in Venice, that, +without another word, Arthur took the tired girl in his strong arms +and carried her safely to the summit of the hill. + +"Please put me down; I can walk now," Lucy pleaded; but Arthur felt +the rapid beatings of her heart, and kept her in his arms until they +reached Prospect Hill, where Mrs. Meredith was anxiously awaiting +their return, her brow clouding with distrust when she saw Mr. +Leighton, for she was constantly fearing lest her guilty secret should +be exposed. + +"I'll leave Hanover this very week, and so remove her from danger," +she thought as she arose to say good-night. + +"Just wait a minute, please. There's something I want to say to Miss +Ruthven," Lucy cried, and, leading Anna to her own room, she knelt +down by her side, and, looking up in her face, began--"There's one +question I wish to ask, and you must answer me truly. It is rude and +inquisitive, perhaps, but tell me--has Arthur--ever--ever--" + +Anna guessed at what was coming, and, with a gasping sob which Lucy +thought a long-drawn breath, she kissed the pretty parted lips, and +answered: + +"No, darling, Arthur never did, and never will, but some time he will +ask you to be his wife. I can see it coming so plain." + +Poor Anna! Her heart gave one great throb as she said this, and then +lay like a dead weight in her bosom, while with sparkling eyes and +blushing cheeks, Lucy exclaimed: + +"I am so glad--so glad. I have only known you since Sunday, but you +seem like an old friend; and so, you won't mind me telling you that +ever since I first met Arthur among the Alps I have lived in a kind of +ideal world of which he was the center. I am an orphan, you know, and +an heiress, too. There is half a million, they say; and Uncle +Hetherton has charge of it. Now, will you believe me when I say that I +would give every dollar of this for Arthur's love if I could not have +it without." + +"I do believe you," Anna replied, inexpressibly glad that the +gathering darkness hid her white face from view as the child-like, +unsuspecting girl went on. "The world, I know, would say that a poor +clergyman was not a good match for me, but I do not care for that. +Cousin Fanny favors it, I am sure, and Uncle Hetherton would not +oppose me when he saw I was in earnest. Once the world, which is a +very meddlesome thing, picked out Thornton Hastings, of New York, for +me; but my! he was too proud and lofty even to talk to me much, and I +would not speak to him after I heard of his saying that 'I was a +pretty little plaything, but far too frivolous for a sensible man to +make his wife.' Oh, wasn't I angry, though, and don't I hope that when +he gets a wife she will be exactly such a frivolous thing as I am." + +Even through the darkness Anna could see the blue eyes flash and the +delicate nostrils dilate as Lucy gave vent to her wrath against the +luckless Thornton Hastings. + +"You will meet him at Saratoga. He is always there in the summer, but +don't you speak to him, the hateful. He'll be calling you frivolous +next." + +An amused smile flitted across Anna's face as she asked: "But won't +you, too, be at Saratoga? I supposed you were all going there." + +"_Cela depend_," Lucy replied. "I would so much rather stay here. The +dressing and dancing and flirting tire me so, and then, you know what +Arthur said about taking me for his deaconess in your place." + +There was a call just then from the hall below. Mrs. Meredith was +getting impatient of the delay, and, with a good-by kiss, Anna went +down the stairs and out upon the piazza, where her aunt was waiting. +Mr. Leighton had accepted Fanny's invitation to stay to tea, and he +handed the ladies to their carriage, lingering a moment while he said +his parting words, for he was going out of town to-morrow, and when he +returned Anna would be gone. + +"You will think of us sometimes," he said, still holding Anna's hand. +"St. Mark's will be lonely without you. God bless you and bring you +safely back." + +There was a warm pressure of the hand, a lifting of Arthur's hat, and +then the carriage moved away; but Anna, looking back, saw Arthur +standing by Lucy's side, fastening a rosebud in her hair, and at that +sight the gleam of hope, which for an instant had crept into her +heart, passed away with a sigh. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +AT NEWPORT. + + +Moved by a strange impulse, Thornton Hastings took himself and his +fast bays to Newport, instead of Saratoga, and thither, the first week +in August, came Mrs. Meredith, with eight large trunks, her niece and +her niece's wardrobe, which had cost the pretty sum of eighteen +hundred dollars. + +Mrs. Meredith was not naturally lavish of her money except where her +own interests were concerned, as they were in Anna's case. Conscious +of having come between her niece and the man she loved, she determined +that in the procuring of a substitute for this man, no advantages +which dress could afford should be lacking. Besides, Thornton Hastings +was a perfect connoisseur in everything pertaining to a lady's toilet, +and it was with him and his preference before her mind that Mrs. +Meredith opened her purse so widely and bought so extensively. There +were sun hats and round hats, and hats _a la cavalier_--there were +bonnets and veils, and dresses and shawls of every color and kind, +with the lesser matters of sashes and gloves and slippers and fans, +the whole making an array such as Anna had never seen before, and from +which she at first shrank back appalled and dismayed. But she was not +now quite so much of a novice as when she first reached New York the +Saturday following the picnic at Prospect Hill. She had passed +successfully and safely through the hands of mantua-makers, milliners +and hairdressers since then. She had laid aside every article brought +from home. She wore her hair in puffs and waterfalls, and her dresses +in the latest mode. She had seen the fashionable world as represented +at Saratoga, and, sickening at the sight, had gladly acquiesced in her +aunt's proposal to go on to Newport, where the air was purer and the +hotels not so densely packed. She had been called a beauty and a +belle, but her heart was longing for the leafy woods and fresh green +fields of Hanover; and Newport, she fancied, would be more like the +country than sultry, crowded Saratoga, and never since leaving home +had she looked so bright and pretty as the evening after her arrival +at the Ocean House, when invigorated by the bath she had taken in the +morning, and gladdened by sight of the glorious sea and the soothing +tones it murmured in her ear, she came down to the parlor clad in +simple white, with only a bunch of violets in her hair, and no other +ornament than the handsome pearls her aunt had given to her. Standing +at the open window, with the drapery of the lace curtain sweeping +gracefully behind her, she did not look much like the Anna who led the +choir in Hanover and visited the Widow Hobbs, nor yet much like the +picture which Thornton Hastings had formed of the girl who he knew was +there for his inspection. He had been absent the entire day, and had +not seen Mrs. Meredith, when she arrived early in the morning, but he +found her card in his room, and a strange smile curled his lip as he +said: + +"And so I have not escaped her." + +Thornton Hastings had proved a most treacherous knight and overthrown +his general's plans entirely. Arthur's letter had affected him +strangely, for he readily guessed how deeply wounded his sensitive +friend had been by Anna Ruthven's refusal, while added to this was a +fear lest Anna had been influenced by a thought of him and what might +possibly result from an acquaintance. Thornton Hastings had been +flattered and angled for until he had grown somewhat vain, and it did +not strike him as at all improbable that the unsophisticated Anna +should have designs upon him. + +"But I won't give her a chance," he said, when he finished Arthur's +letter. "I thought once I might like her, but I shan't, and I'll be +revenged on her for refusing the best man that ever breathed. I'll go +to Newport instead of Saratoga, and so be clear of the entire Meredith +clique, the Hethertons, the little Harcourt, and all." + +This, then, was the secret of his being there at the Ocean House. He +was keeping away from Anna Ruthven, who never had heard of him but +once, and that from Lucy Harcourt. After that scene in the Glen, where +Anna had exclaimed against intriguing mothers and their bold, +shameless daughters, Mrs. Meredith had been too wise a maneuverer to +mention Thornton Hastings, so that Anna was wholly ignorant of his +presence at Newport, and looked up in unfeigned surprise at the tall, +elegant man whom her aunt presented as Mr. Hastings. With all +Thornton's affected indifference, there was still a curiosity to see +the girl who could say "no" to Arthur Leighton, and he had not waited +long after receiving Mrs. Meredith's card before going down to find +her. + +"That's the girl, I'll lay a wager," he thought of a high-colored, +showily-dressed hoyden, who was whirling around the room with Ned +Peters, from Boston, and whose corn-colored dress swept against his +boots as he entered the parlor. + +How, then, was he disappointed in the apparition Mrs. Meredith +presented as "my niece," the modest, self-possessed young girl, whose +cheeks grew not a whit redder, and whose pulse did not quicken at the +sight of him, though a gleam of something like curiosity shone in the +brown eyes which scanned him so quietly. She was thinking of Lucy, and +her injunction "not to speak to the hateful if she saw him;" but she +did speak to him, and Mrs. Meredith fanned herself complacently as she +saw how fast they became acquainted. + +"You do not dance," Mr. Hastings said, as she declined an invitation +from Ned Peters, whom she had met at Saratoga. "I am glad, for now you +will, perhaps, walk with me outside upon the piazza. You won't take +cold, I think," and he glanced thoughtfully at the white neck and +shoulders gleaming beneath the gauzy muslin. + +Mrs. Meredith was in rhapsodies and sat a full hour with the tiresome +dowagers around her, while up and down the broad piazza Thornton +Hastings walked with Anna, talking to her as he seldom talked to +women, and feeling greatly surprised to find that what he said was +fully appreciated and understood. That he was pleased with her he +could not deny himself, as he sat alone in his room that night, +feeling more and more how keenly Arthur Leighton must have felt at her +refusal. + +"But why did she refuse him?" he wished he knew, and ere he slept he +had resolved to study Anna Ruthven closely, and ascertain, if +possible, the motive which prompted her to discard a man like Arthur +Leighton. + +The next day brought the Hetherton party, all but Lucy Harcourt, who, +Fanny laughingly said, was just now suffering from clergyman on the +brain, and, as a certain cure for the disease, had turned my Lady +Bountiful, and was playing the pretty patroness to all Mr. Leighton's +parishioners, especially a Widow Hobbs, whom she had actually taken to +ride in the carriage, and to whose ragged children she had sent a +bundle of cast-off party dresses; and the tears ran down Fanny's +cheeks as she described the appearance of the elder Hobbs, who came to +church with a soiled pink silk skirt, her black, tattered petticoat +hanging down below and one of Lucy's opera hoods upon her head. + +"And the clergyman on the brain? Does he appreciate the situation? I +have an interest there. He is an old friend of mine," Thornton +Hastings asked. + +He had been an amused listener to Fanny's gay badinage, laughing +merrily at the idea of Lucy's taking old women out to air and clothing +her children in party dresses. His opinion of Lucy, as she had said, +was that she was a pretty, but frivolous, plaything, and it showed +upon his face as he asked the question he did, watching Anna furtively +as Fanny replied: + +"Oh, yes, he is certainly smitten, and I must say I never saw Lucy so +thoroughly in earnest. Why, she really seems to enjoy traveling all +over Christendom to find the hovels and huts, though she is mortally +afraid of the smallpox, and always carries with her a bit of chloride +of lime as a disinfecting agent. I am sure she ought to win the +parson. And so you know him, do you?" + +"Yes; we were in college together, and I esteem him so highly that, +had I a sister, there is no man living to whom I would so readily give +her as to him." + +He was looking now at Anna, whose face was very pale, and who pressed +a rose she held so tightly that the sharp thorns pierced her flesh, +and a drop of blood stained the whiteness of her hand. + +"See, you have hurt yourself," Mr. Hastings said. "Come to the water +pitcher and wash the stain away." + +She went with him mechanically, and let him hold her hand in his +while he wiped off the blood with his own handkerchief, treating her +with a tenderness for which he could hardly account himself. He pitied +her, he said, suspecting that she had repented of her rashness, and +because he pitied her he asked her to ride with him that day after the +fast bays, of which he had written to Arthur. Many admiring eyes were +cast after them as they drove away, and Mrs. Hetherton whispered +softly to Mrs. Meredith: + +"A match in progress, I see. You have done well for your charming +niece." + +And yet matrimony, as concerned himself, was very far from Thornton +Hastings' thoughts that afternoon, when, because he saw that it +pleased Anna to have him do so, he talked to her of Arthur, hoping in +his unselfish heart that what he said in his praise might influence +her to reconsider her decision and give him a different answer. This +was the second day of Thornton Hastings' acquaintance with Anna +Ruthven, but as the days went on, bringing the usual routine of life +at Newport, the drives, the rides, the pleasant piazza talks, and the +quiet moonlight rambles, when Anna was always his companion, Thornton +Hastings came to feel an unwillingness to surrender, even to Arthur +Leighton, the beautiful girl who pleased him better than any one he +had known. + +Mrs. Meredith's plans were working well, and so, though the autumn +days had come, and one after another the devotees of fashion were +dropping off, she lingered on, and Thornton Hastings still rode and +walked with Anna Ruthven, until there came a night when they wandered +farther than usual from the hotel, and sat down together on a height +of land which overlooked the placid waters, where the moonlight lay +softly sleeping. It was a most lovely night, and for a while they +listened in silence to the music of the sea, then talked of the +breaking up which came in a few days when the hotel was to be closed, +and wondered if next year they would come again to the old haunts and +find them unchanged. + +There was witchery in the hour, and Thornton felt its spell, speaking +out at last, and asking Anna if she would be his wife. He would shield +her so tenderly, he said, protecting her from every care, and making +her as happy as love and money could make her. Then he told her of his +home in the far-off city, which needed only her presence to make it a +paradise, and then he waited for her answer, watching anxiously the +limp white hands, which, when he first began to talk, had fallen so +helplessly upon her lap, and then had crept up to her face, which was +turned away from him, so that he could not see its expression, or +guess at the struggle going on in Anna's mind. She was not wholly +surprised, for she could not mistake the nature of the interest which, +for the last two weeks, Thornton Hastings had manifested in her. But, +now that the moment had come, it seemed to her that she never had +expected it, and she sat silent for a time, dreading so much to speak +the words which she knew would inflict pain on one whom she respected +so highly but whom she could not marry. + +"Don't you like me, Anna?" Thornton asked at last, his voice very low +and tender, as he bent over her and tried to take her hand. + +"Yes, very much," she answered, and, emboldened by her reply, Thornton +lifted up her head, and was about to kiss her forehead, when she +started away from him, exclaiming: + +"No, Mr. Hastings. You must not do that. I cannot be your wife. It +hurts me to tell you so, for I believe you are sincere in your +proposal; but it can never be. Forgive me, and let us both forget this +wretched summer." + +"It has not been wretched to me. It has been a very happy summer, +since I knew you, at least," Mr. Hastings said, and then he asked +again that she should reconsider her decision. He could not take it as +her final one. He had loved her too much, had thought too much of +making her his own to give her up so easily, he said, urging so many +reasons why she should think again, that Anna said to him, at last: + +"If you would rather have it so, I will wait a month, but you must +not hope that my answer will be different from what it is to-night. I +want your friendship, though, the same as if this had never happened. +I like you, Mr. Hastings, because you have been kind to me, and made +my stay in Newport so much pleasanter than I thought it could be. You +have not talked to me like other men. You have treated me as if I, at +least, had common sense. I thank you for that; and I like you +because----" + +She did not finish the sentence, for she could not say "because you +are Arthur's friend." That would have betrayed the miserable secret +tugging at her heart, and prompting her to refuse Thornton Hastings, +who had also thought of Arthur Leighton, wondering if it were thus +that she rejected him, and if in the background there was another love +standing between her and the two men to win whom many a woman would +almost have given her right hand. To say that Thornton was not a +little piqued at her refusal would be false. He had not expected it, +accustomed, as he was, to adulation; but he tried to put that feeling +down, and his manner was even more kind and considerate than ever as +he walked slowly back to the hotel, where Mrs. Meredith was waiting +for them, her practised eye detecting at once that something was +amiss. Thornton Hastings knew Mrs. Meredith thoroughly, and, wishing +to shield Anna from her displeasure, he preferred stating the facts +himself to having them wrung from the pale, agitated girl who, bidding +him good night, went quickly to her room; so, when she was gone, and +he stood for a moment alone with Mrs. Meredith, he said: + +"I have proposed to your niece, but she cannot answer me now. She +wishes for a month's probation, which I have granted, and I ask that +she shall not be persecuted about the matter. I wish for an unbiassed +answer." + +He bowed politely, and walked away, while Mrs. Meredith almost trod on +air as she climbed the three flights of stairs and sought her niece's +chamber. Over the interview which ensued that night we pass silently, +and come to the next morning, when Anna sat alone on the piazza at the +rear of the hotel, watching the playful gambols of some children on +the grass, and wondering if she ever could conscientiously say "yes" +to Thornton Hastings' suit. He was coming toward her now, lifting his +hat politely, and asking what she would give for news from home. + +"I found this on my table," he said, holding up a dainty little +missive, on the corner of which was written "In haste," as if its +contents were of the utmost importance. "The boy must have made a +mistake, or else he thought it well enough to begin at once bringing +your letters to me," he continued, with a smile, as he handed Anna the +letter from Lucy Harcourt. "I have one too, from Arthur which I will +read while you are devouring yours, and then, perhaps, you will take a +little ride. The September air is very bracing this morning," he said, +walking away to the far end of the piazza, while Anna broke the seal +of the envelope, hesitating a moment ere taking the letter from it, +and trembling as if she guessed what it might contain. + +There was a quivering of the eyelids, a paling of the lips as she +glanced at the first few lines, then with a low, moaning cry, "No, no, +oh, no, not that," she fell upon her face. + +To lift her in his arms and carry her to her room was the work of an +instant, and then, leaving her to Mrs. Meredith's care, Thornton +Hastings went back to finish Arthur's letter, which might or might not +throw light upon the fainting fit. + +"Dear Thornton," Arthur wrote, "you will be surprised, no doubt, to +hear that your old college chum is at last engaged--positively +engaged--but not to one of the fifty lambs about whom you once +jocosely wrote. The shepherd has wandered from his flock, and is about +to take into his bosom a little, stray ewe-lamb--Lucy Harcourt by +name--" + +"The deuce he is," was Thornton's ejaculation, and then he read on. + +"She is an acquaintance of yours, I believe, so I need not describe +her, except to say that she is somewhat changed from the gay butterfly +of fashion she used to be, and in time will make as demure a little +Quakeress as one could wish to see. She visits constantly among my +poor, who love her almost as well as they once loved Anna Ruthven. + +"Don't ask me, Thorne, in your blunt, straightforward manner if I +have so soon forgotten Anna. That is a matter with which you've +nothing to do. Let it suffice that I am engaged to another, and mean +to make a kind and faithful husband to her. Lucy would have suited you +better, perhaps, than she does me; that is, the world would think so, +but the world does not always know, and if I am satisfied, surely it +ought to be. Yours truly, + "A. LEIGHTON." + + +"Engaged to Lucy Harcourt? I never could have believed it. He's right +in saying that she is far more suitable for me than him." Thornton +exclaimed, dashing aside the letter and feeling conscious of a pang as +he remembered the bright, airy little beauty in whom he had once been +strongly interested, even if he did call her frivolous and ridicule +her childish ways. + +She was frivolous, too much so, by far, to be a clergyman's wife, and +for a full half hour Thornton paced up and down the room, meditating +on Arthur's choice and wondering how upon earth it ever happened. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +HOW IT HAPPENED. + + +Lucy had insisted that she did not care to go to Saratoga. She +preferred remaining in Hanover, where it was cool and quiet, and where +she would not have to dress three times a day and dance every night +till twelve. She was beginning to find that there was something to +live for besides consulting one's own pleasure, and she meant to do +good the rest of her life, she said, assuming such a sober nun-like +air, that no one who saw her could fail to laugh, it was so at +variance with her entire nature. + +But Lucy was in earnest; Hanover had a greater attraction for her +than all the watering-places in the world, and she meant to stay +there, feeling very grateful when Fanny threw her influence on her +side, and so turned the scale in her favor. Fanny was glad to leave +her dangerous cousin at home, especially after Dr. Bellamy decided to +join their party at Saratoga, and, as she carried great weight with +both her parents, it was finally decided to let Lucy remain at +Prospect Hill in peace, and so one morning in July she saw the family +depart to their summer gayeties without a single feeling of regret +that she was not of their number. She had too much on her hands to +spend her time in regretting anything. There was the parish school to +visit, and a class of children to hear--children who were no longer +ragged, for Lucy's money had been poured out like water, till even +Arthur had remonstrated with her and read her a long lecture on the +subject of misplaced charity. Then, there was Widow Hobbs, waiting for +the jelly Lucy had promised, and for the chapter which Lucy read to +her, sitting where she could watch the road and see just who turned +the corner, her voice always sounding a little more serious and good +when the footsteps belonged to Arthur Leighton, and her eyes, always +glancing at the bit of cracked mirror on the wall, to see that her +dress and hair and ribbons were right before Arthur came in. + +It was a very pretty sight to see her there and hear her as she read +to the poor woman, whose surroundings she had so greatly improved, and +Arthur always smiled gratefully upon her, and then walked back with +her to Prospect Hill, where he sometimes lingered while she played or +talked to him, or brought the luscious fruits with which the garden +abounded. + +This was Lucy's life, the one she preferred to Saratoga, and they +left her to enjoy it, somewhat to Arthur's discomfiture, for much as +he valued her society, he would a little rather she had gone when the +Hethertons went, for he could not be insensible to the remarks which +were being made by the curious villagers, who watched this new +flirtation, as they called it, and wondered if their minister had +forgotten Anna Ruthven. He had not forgotten Anna, and many a time was +her loved name upon his lips and a thought of her in his heart, while +he never returned from an interview with Lucy that he did not contrast +the two and sigh for the olden time, when Anna was his co-worker +instead of pretty Lucy Harcourt. And yet there was about the latter a +powerful fascination, which he found it hard to resist. It rested him +just to look at her, she was so fresh, so bright, so beautiful, and +then she flattered his self-love by the unbounded deference she paid +to his opinions, studying all his tastes and bringing her own will +into perfect subjection to his, until she scarcely could be said to +have a thought or feeling which was not a reflection of his own. And +so the flirtation, which at first had been a one-sided affair, began +to assume a more serious form; the rector went oftener to Prospect +Hill, while the carriage from Prospect Hill stood daily at the gate of +the rectory, and people said it was a settled thing, or ought to be, +gossiping about it until old Captain Humphreys, Anna's grandfather, +conceived it his duty as senior warden of St. Mark's, to talk with the +young rector and know "what his intentions were." + +"You have none?" he said, fixing his mild eyes reproachfully upon his +clergyman, who winced a little beneath the gaze. "Then if you have no +intentions, my advice to you is, that you quit it and let the gal +alone, or you'll ruin her, if she ain't sp'ilt already, as some of the +women folks say she is. It don't do no gal any good to have a chap, +and specially a minister, gallyvantin' after her, as I must say you've +been after this one for the last few weeks. She's a pretty little +creature, and I don't blame you for liking her. It makes my old blood +stir faster when she comes purring around me with her soft ways and +winsome face, and so I don't wonder at you; but when you say you've no +intentions, I blame you greatly. You orter have--excuse my plainness. +I'm an old man who likes my minister, and don't want him to go wrong, +and then I feel for her, left alone by all her folks--more's the shame +to them, and more's the harm for you to tangle up her affections, as +you are doing, if you are not in earnest; and I speak for her just as +I should want some one to speak for Anna." + +The old man's voice trembled a little here, for it had been a wish of +his that Anna should occupy the rectory, and he had at first felt a +little resentment against the gay young creature who seemed to have +supplanted her; but he was over that now, and in all honesty of heart +he spoke both for Lucy's interest and that of his clergyman. And +Arthur listened to him respectfully, feeling, when he was gone, that +he merited the rebuke, that he had not been guiltless in the matter, +that if he did not mean to marry Lucy Harcourt he must let her alone. + +And he would, he said; he would not go to Prospect Hill again for two +whole weeks, nor visit at the cottages where he was sure to find her. +He would keep himself at home; and he did, shutting himself up among +his books, and not even making a pastoral call on Lucy when he heard +that she was sick. And so Lucy came to him, looking dangerously +charming in her green riding-habit--with the scarlet feather sweeping +from her hat. Very prettily she pouted, too, chiding him for his +neglect, and asking why he had not been to see her, nor anybody. There +was the Widow Hobbs, and Mrs. Briggs and those miserable Donelsons--he +had not been near them for a fortnight. What was the reason? she +asked, beating her foot upon the carpet, and tapping the end of her +riding whip upon the sermon he was writing. + +"Are you displeased with me, Arthur?" she continued, her eyes filling +with tears as she saw the grave expression on his face. "Have I done +anything wrong? I am so sorry if I have." + +Her voice had in it the grieved tones of a little child, and her eyes +were very bright, with the tears, quivering on her long silken lashes. +Leaning back in his chair, with his hands clasped behind his head, a +position he always assumed when puzzled and perplexed, the rector +looked at her a moment before he spoke. He could not define to himself +the nature of the interest he took in Lucy Harcourt. He admired her +greatly, and the self-denials and generous exertions she had made to +be of use to him since Anna went away had touched a tender chord and +made her seem very near to him. + +Habit with him was everything, and the past two weeks' isolation had +shown him how necessary she had become to him. She did not satisfy his +higher wants as Anna Ruthven had done. No one could ever do that, but +she amused, and soothed, and rested him, and made his duties lighter +by taking half of them upon herself. That she was more attached to him +than he could wish, he greatly feared, for, since Captain Humphreys' +visit, he had seen matters differently from what he saw them before, +and had unsparingly questioned himself as to how far he would be +answerable for her future weal or woe. + +"Guilty, verily, I am guilty, in leading her on, if I meant nothing by +it," he had written against himself, pausing in his sermon to write it +just as Lucy came in, appealing so prettily to him to know why he had +neglected her so long. She was very beautiful this morning, and Arthur +felt his heart beat rapidly as he looked at her, and thought most any +man who had never known Anna Ruthven would be glad to gather that +bright creature in his own arms and know she was his own. One long, +long sigh to the memory of all he had hoped for once--one bitter pang +as he remembered Anna and that twilight hour in the church and then he +made a mad plunge in the dark and said: + +"Lucy, do you know people are beginning to talk about my seeing you so +much?" + +"Well, let them talk. Who cares?" Lucy replied, with a good deal of +asperity of manner for her, for that very morning the old housekeeper +at Prospect Hill had ventured to remonstrate with her for "running +after the parson." "Pray, where is the wrong? What harm can come of +it?" and she tossed her head pettishly. + +"None, perhaps," Arthur replied, "if one could keep his affections +under control. But if either of us should learn to love the other very +much, and the love was not reciprocated, harm would surely come of +that. At least, that was the view Captain Humphreys took of the matter +when he was speaking to me about it." + +There were red spots on Lucy's face, but her lips were very white, and +the buttons on her riding dress rose and fell rapidly with the beating +of her heart as she looked steadily at Arthur. Was he going to send +her from him, send her back to the insipid life she had lived before +she knew him? It was too terrible to believe, and the great tears +rolled slowly down her cheeks. Then, as a flash of pride came to her +aid, she dashed them away, and said haughtily: + +"And so, for fear I shall fall in love with you, and be ruined, +perhaps, you are sacrificing both comfort and freedom, shutting +yourself up here among your books and studies to the neglect of other +duties? But it need be so no longer. The necessity for it, if it +existed once, certainly does not now. I will not be in your way. +Forgive me that I ever have been." + +Lucy's voice began to tremble as she gathered up her riding-habit and +turned to find her gauntlets. One of them had dropped upon the floor, +between the table and the rector, and as she stooped to reach it her +curls almost swept the young man's lap. + +"Let me get it for you," he said, hastily pushing back his chair, and +awkwardly entangling his foot in her dress, so that when she rose she +stumbled backward, and would have fallen but for the arm he quickly +passed around her. + +Something in the touch of that quivering form completed the work of +temptation, and he held it for an instant while she said to him: + +"Please, let me go, sir!" + +"No, Lucy, I can't let you go; I want you to stay with me." + +Instantly the drooping head was uplifted, and Lucy's eyes looked into +his with such a wistful, pleading, wondering look, that Arthur saw, or +thought he saw, his duty plain, and, gently touching his lips to the +brow glistening so white within their reach, he continued: + +"There is a way to stop the gossip and make it right for me to see +you. Promise to be my wife, and not even Captain Humphreys will say +aught against it." + +Arthur's voice trembled a little now, for the mention of Captain +Humphreys had brought a thought of Anna, whose brown eyes seemed for +an instant to look reproachfully upon that wooing. But Arthur had gone +too far to retract--he had committed himself, and now he had only to +wait for Lucy's answer. + +There was no deception about her. Hers was a nature as clear as +crystal, and, with a gush of glad tears, she promised to be the +rector's wife, hiding her face in his bosom, and telling him brokenly +how unworthy she was, how foolish and how unsuited to the place, but +promising to do the best she could do not to bring him into disgrace +on account of her shortcomings. + +"With the acknowledgment that you love me, I can do anything," she +said, and her white hand crept slowly into the cold, clammy one which +lay so listlessly in Arthur's lap. + +He was already repenting, for he felt that it was sin to take that +warm, trusting, loving heart in exchange for the half-lifeless one he +should render in return, the heart where scarcely a pulse of joy was +beating, even though he held his promised wife, and she as fair and +beautiful as ever promised wife could be. + +"I can make her happy, and I will," he thought, pressing the warm +fingers which quivered to his touch. + +But he did not kiss her again. He could not, for the brown eyes which +still seemed looking at him as if asking what he did. There was a +strange spell about those phantom eyes, and they made him say to Lucy, +who was now sitting demurely at his side: + +"I could not clear my conscience if I did not confess that you are not +the first woman whom I have asked to be my wife." + +There was a sudden start, and Lucy's face was as pale as ashes, while +her hand went quickly to her side, where the heart beats were so +visible, warning Arthur to be careful how he startled her, so when she +asked: + +"Who was it, and why did you not marry her? Did you love her very +much?" he answered indifferently: + +"I would rather not tell you who it was, as that might be a breach of +confidence. She did not care to be my wife, and so that dream was over +and I was left for you." + +He did not say how much he loved her, but Lucy forgot the omission and +asked: + +"Was she young and pretty?" + +"Young and pretty both, but not as beautiful as you," Arthur replied, +his fingers softly parting back the golden curls from the face looking +so trustingly into his. + +And in that he answered truly. He had seen no face as beautiful of +its kind as Lucy's was, and he was glad that he could tell her so. He +knew how it would please her, and partly make amends for the tender +words which he could not speak for the phantom eyes haunting him so +strangely. And Lucy, who took all things for granted, was more than +content, only she wondered that he did not kiss her again, and wished +she knew the girl who had come so near being in her place. But she +respected his wishes too much to ask, after what he had said, and she +tried to make herself glad that he had been so frank with her, and not +left his other love affair to the chance of her discovering it +afterwards at a time when it might be painful to her. + +"I wish I had something to confess," she thought, but from the scores +of her flirtations, and even offers, for she had not lacked for them, +she could not find one where her own feelings had been enlisted in +ever so slight a degree, until she remembered Thornton Hastings, who +for one whole week had paid her much attentions as made her drive +round on purpose to look at the house on Madison Square where the +future Mrs. Hastings was to live. But his coolness afterwards, and his +comments on her frivolity had terribly angered her, making her think +she hated him, as she had said to Anna. Now, however, as she +remembered the drive and the house, she nestled closer to Arthur, and +told him all about it, fingering the buttons on his dressing-gown as +she told it, and never dreaming of the pang she was inflicting as +Arthur thought how mysterious were God's ways, and wondered that he +had not reversed the matter, and given Lucy to Thornton Hastings +rather than to him, who did not half deserve her. + +"I know now I never cared a bit for Thornton Hastings, though I might +if he had not been so mean as to call me frivolous," Lucy said, as she +arose to go; then suddenly turning to the rector, she added: "I shall +never ask you who your first love was, but I would like to know if you +have quite forgotten her." + +"Have you forgotten Thornton Hastings?" Arthur asked, laughingly, and +Lucy replied, "Of course not; one never forgets, but I don't care a +pin for him now, and, did I tell you Fanny writes that rumor says he +will marry Anna Ruthven?" + +"Yes, no, I did not know--I am not surprised," and Arthur stooped to +pick up a book lying on the floor, thus hiding his face from Lucy, +who, woman-like, was glad to report a piece of gossip, and continued: +"She is a great belle, Fanny says--dressed beautifully and in perfect +taste, besides talking as if she knew something, and this pleases Mr. +Hastings, who takes her out to ride and drive, and all this after I +warned her against him, and told her just what he said of me. I am +surprised at her." + +Lucy was drawing on her gauntlets, and Arthur was waiting to see her +out, but she still lingered on the threshold, and at last said to him, +"I wonder you never fell in love with Anna yourself. I am sure if I +were you I should prefer her to me. She knows something and I do not, +but I am going to study. There are piles of books in the library at +Prospect Hill, and you shall see what a famous student I will become. +If I get puzzled, will you help me?" + +"Yes, willingly," Arthur replied, wishing that she would go before +she indulged in any more speculations as to why he did not love Anna +Ruthven. + +But Lucy was not done yet, and Arthur felt as if the earth were giving +way beneath his feet when, as he lifted her into the saddle and took +her hand at parting, she said, "Now, remember, I am not going to be +jealous of that other love. There is only one person who could make me +so, and that is Anna Ruthven; but I know it was not she, for that +night we all came from Mrs. Hobbs' and she went with me up-stairs, I +asked her honestly if you had ever offered yourself to her, and she +told me you had not. I think you showed a lack of taste, but I am glad +it was not Anna." + +Lucy was far down the road ere Arthur recovered from the shock her +last words had given him. What did it mean, and why had Anna said he +never proposed? Was there some mistake, and he the victim of it? There +was a blinding mist before the young man's eyes as he returned to his +study, and went over again, with all the incidents of Anna's refusal, +even to the reading of the letter which he already knew by heart. +Then, as the thought came over him that possibly Mrs. Meredith played +him false in some way, he groaned aloud, and the great sweat drops +fell upon the table where he leaned his head. But this could not be, +he reasoned. Lucy was mistaken. She had not heard aright. Somebody, +surely, was mistaken, or he had committed a fatal error. + +"But I must abide by it," he said, lifting up his pallid face. "God +forbid the wrong I have done in asking Lucy to be my wife when my +heart belonged to Anna. God help me to forget the one and love the +other as I ought. She is a lovely little girl, trusting me so wholly +that I can make her happy, and I will; but Anna! oh, Anna!" + +It was a despairing cry, such as a newly-engaged man should never have +sent after another than his affianced bride. Arthur thought so, too, +fighting back his first love with an iron will, and, after that first +hour of anguish, burying it so far from sight that he went that night +to Captain Humphreys and told of his engagement; then called upon his +bride-elect, trying so hard to be satisfied that, when, at a late +hour, he returned to the rectory, he was more than content; and, by +way of fortifying himself still further, wrote the letter which +Thornton Hastings read at Newport. + +And that was how it happened. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +ANNA. + + +Through the rich curtains which shaded the windows of a room looking +out on Fifth Avenue, the late October sun was shining, and as its red +light played among the flowers on the carpet a pale young girl sat +watching it, and thinking of the Hanover hills, now decked in their +autumnal glory, and of the ivy on St. Mark's, growing so bright and +beautiful beneath the autumnal frosts. Anna had been very sick since +that morning in September when she sat on the piazza at the Ocean +House and read Lucy Harcourt's letter. The faint was a precursor of +fever, the physician said, when summoned to her aid, and in a tremor +of fear and distress Mrs. Meredith had had her at once removed to New +York, and that was the last Anna remembered. + +From the moment her aching head had touched the soft pillows in Aunt +Meredith's house all consciousness had fled, and for weeks she had +hovered so near to death that the telegraph wires bore daily messages +to Hanover, where the aged couple who had cared for her since her +childhood wept, and prayed, and watched for tidings from their +darling. They could not go to her, for Grandpa Humphreys had broken +his leg, and his wife could not leave him, so they waited with what +patience they could for the daily bulletins which Mrs. Meredith sent, +appreciating their anxiety, and feeling glad withal of anything which +kept them from New York. + +"She had best be prayed for in church," the old man had said, and so +Sunday after Sunday Arthur read the prayer for the sick, his voice +trembling as it had never trembled before, and a keener sorrow in his +heart than he had ever known when saying the solemn words. Heretofore +the persons prayed for had been comparative strangers, people in whom +he felt only the interest a pastor feels in all his flock, but now it +was Anna, whose case he took to God, and he always smothered a sob +during the moment he waited for the fervent response the congregation +made, the "Amen" which came from the pew where Lucy sat sounding +louder and heartier than all the rest, and having in it a sound of the +tears which fell so fast on Lucy's book as she asked that Anna might +not die. Oh, how he longed to go to her, but this he could not do, and +so he had sent Lucy, who bent so tenderly above the sick girl, +whispering loving words in her ear, and dropping kisses upon the lips +which uttered no response, save once, when Lucy said: + +"Do you remember Arthur?" + +Then they murmured faintly: + +"Yes; Arthur, I remember him, and the Christmas song, and the +gathering in the church; but that was long ago. There's much happened +since then." + +"And I am to marry Arthur," Lucy had said again, but this time there +was no sign that she was understood, and that afternoon she went back +to Hanover loaded with testaments for the children of St. Mark's, and +new books for the Sunday-school, and, accompanied by Valencia, who, +having had a serious difference with her mistress, Mrs. Meredith, +offered her services to Lucy, and was at once accepted. + +That was near the middle of October; now it was towards the last, and +Anna was so much better that she sat up for an hour or more, and +listened with some degree of interest to what Mrs. Meredith told her +of the days when she lay so unconscious of all that was passing around +her, never even heeding the kindly voice of Thornton Hastings, who, +more than once, had stood by her pillow with his hand on her feverish +brow, and whose thoughtfulness was visible in the choice bouquets he +sent each day, with notes of anxious inquiry when he did not come +himself. + +Anna had not seen him yet since her convalescence. She would rather +not see any one until strong enough to talk, she said; and so Thornton +waited patiently for the interview she had promised him when she was +stronger, but every day he sent her fruit and flowers, and books of +prints which he thought would interest her, and which always made her +cheeks grow hot and her heart beat regretfully, for she thought of the +answer she must give him when he came, and she shrank from wounding +him. + +"He is too good, too noble to have an unwilling wife," she said, but +that did not make it the less hard to tell him so, and when at last +she was well enough to see him, she waited his coming nervously, +starting when she heard his step, and trembling like a leaf as he drew +near her chair. It was a very thin, wasted hand which he took in his, +holding it for a moment between his own, and then laying it gently +back upon her lap. + +He had come for the answer to a question put six weeks before, and +Anna gave it to him. + +Kindly, considerately, but decidedly, she told him she could not be +his wife, simply because she did not love him as he ought to be loved. + +"It is nothing personal," she said, working nervously at the heavy +fringe of her shawl. "I respect you more than any man I ever knew, but +one, and had I met you years ago before--before----" + +"I understand you," Thornton said, coming to her aid. "You have tried +to love me, but cannot, because your affections are given to another." + +Anna bowed her head in silence. Then after a moment she continued: + +"You must forgive me, Mr. Hastings, for not telling you this at once. +I did not know then but I could love you--at least I meant to try, for +you see, this other one----" + +The fingers got terribly tangled in the fringe as Anna gasped for +breath, and went on: + +"He does not know, and never will; that is, he never cared for me, nor +guessed how foolish I was to give him my love unsought." + +"Then it is not Arthur Leighton, and that is the reason you refused +him, too?" Mr. Hastings said, involuntarily, and Anna looked quickly +up, her cheeks growing paler than they were before, as she replied: + +"I don't know what you mean. I never refused Mr. Leighton--never." + +"You never refused Mr. Leighton?" Thornton exclaimed, forgetting all +discretion in his surprise at this flat contradiction. "I have +Arthur's word for it, written to me last June, while Mrs. Meredith was +there, I think." + +"He surely could not have meant it, because it never occurred. Once, I +was foolish enough to think he was going to, but he did not. There is +some great mistake," Anna found strength to say, and then she lay back +in her easy-chair panting for breath, her brain all in a whirl as she +thought of the possibility that she was once so near the greatest +happiness she had ever desired, and which was now lost to her forever. + +He brought her smelling salts, he gave her ice-water to drink, and +then, kneeling beside her, he fanned her gently, while he said: "There +surely is a mistake, and, I fear, a great wrong, too, somewhere. Were +all your servants trusty? Was there no one who would withhold a letter +if he had written? Were you always at home when he called?" Thornton +questioned her rapidly, for there was a suspicion in his mind as to +the real culprit; but he would not hint it to Anna unless she +suggested it herself. And this she was not likely to do. Mrs. Meredith +had been too kind to her during the past summer, and especially during +her illness, to allow of such a thought concerning her, and, in a maze +of perplexity, she replied to his inquiries: "We keep but one servant, +Esther, and she, I know, is trusty. Besides, who could have refused +him for me? Grandfather would not, I know, because--because----" + +She hesitated a little and her cheeks blushed scarlet, as she added: +"I sometimes thought he wished it to be." + +If Thornton had previously a doubt as to the other man who stood +between himself and Anna, that doubt was now removed, and laying aside +all thoughts of self, he exclaimed: "I tell you there is a great wrong +somewhere. Arthur never told an untruth; he thought that you refused +him; he thinks so still, and I shall never rest till I have solved the +mystery. I will write to him to-day." + +For an instant there swept over Anna a feeling of unutterable joy as +she thought of what the end might be; then, as she remembered Lucy, +her heart seemed to stop its beating, and, with a moan, she stretched +her hand toward Thornton, who had risen as if to leave her. + +"No, no; you must not interfere," she said. "It is too late, too late. +Don't you remember Lucy? Don't you know she is to be his wife? Lucy +must not be sacrificed for me. I can bear it the best." + +She knew she had betrayed her secret and she tried to take it back, +but Thornton interrupted her with, "Never mind now, Anna; I guessed it +all before, and it hurts my pride less to know that it is Arthur whom +you prefer to me; I do not blame you for it." + +He smoothed her hair pityingly, while he stood over her for a moment, +wondering what his duty was. Anna had told him plainly what it was. He +must leave Arthur and Lucy alone. She insisted upon having it so, and +he promised her at least that he would not interfere; then, taking her +hand, he pressed it a moment between his own and went out from her +presence. In the hall below he met with Mrs. Meredith, who he knew was +waiting anxiously to hear the result of that long interview. + +"Your niece will never be my wife, and I am satisfied to have it so," +he said; then, as he saw the lowering of her brow, he continued: "I +have long suspected that she loved another, and my suspicions are +confirmed, though there's something I cannot understand," and fixing +his eyes searchingly upon Mrs. Meredith, he told her what Arthur had +written and of Anna's denial of the same. "Somebody played her false," +he said, rather enjoying the look of terror and shame which crept into +the haughty woman's eyes, as she tried to appear natural and express +her own surprise at what she heard. + +"I was right in my conjecture," Thornton thought, as he took his +leave of Mrs. Meredith who could not face Anna then, but paced +restlessly up and down her spacious rooms, wondering how much Thornton +had suspected and what the end would be. + +She had sinned for naught. Anna had upset all her cherished plans, +and, could she have gone back for a few months and done her work +again, she would have left the letter lying where she found it. But +that could not be now. She must reap as she had sown, and resolving +finally to hope for the best and abide the result, she went up to +Anna, who having no suspicion of her, hurt her ten times more cruelly +by the perfect faith with which she confided the story to her than +bitter reproaches would have done. + +"I know you wanted me to marry Mr. Hastings," Anna said, "and I would +if I could have done so conscientiously, but I could not; for, I may +now confess it to you, I did love Arthur so much; and once I hoped +that he loved me." + +The cold hard woman, who had brought this grief upon her niece, could +only answer that it did not matter. + +She was not very sorry, although she had wished her to marry Mr. +Hastings, but she must not fret about that, or about anything. She +would be better by and by, and forget that she ever cared for Arthur +Leighton. + +"At least," and she spoke entreatingly now, "you will not demean +yourself to let him know of the mistake. It would scarcely be womanly, +and he may have gotten over it. Present circumstances would seem to +prove as much." + +Mrs. Meredith felt that her secret was comparatively safe, and, with +her spirits lightened, she kissed her niece lovingly and told her of a +trip to Europe which she had in view, promising that if she went Anna +should go with her and so not be at home when the marriage of Arthur +and Lucy took place. + +It was appointed for the 15th of January, that being the day when Lucy +came of age, and the very afternoon succeeding Anna's interview with +Mr. Hastings the little lady came down to New York to direct her +bridal trousseau making in the city. + +She was brimming over with happiness, and her face was a perfect gleam +of sunshine when she came next day to Anna's room, and, throwing off +her wrappings, plunged at once into the subject uppermost in her +thoughts, telling first how she and Arthur had quarreled. + +"Not quarreled as Uncle and Aunt Hetherton and lots of people do, but +differed so seriously that I cried, and had to give up, too," she +said. "I wanted you for bridesmaid, and, do you think, he objected! +Not objected to you, but to bridesmaids generally, and he carried his +point, so that unless Fanny is married at the same time, as, perhaps, +she will be, we are just to stand up stiff and straight alone, except +as you'll all be round me in the aisle. You'll be well by that time, +and I want you very near to me," Lucy said, squeezing fondly the icy +hand whose coldness made her start and exclaim: + +"Why, Anna, how cold you are, and how pale you are looking! You have +been so sick, and I am well. It don't seem quite right, does it? And +Arthur, too, is looking thin and worn--so thin that I have coaxed him +to raise whiskers to cover the hollows in his cheeks. He looks a heap +better now, though he was always handsome. I do so wonder that you two +never fell in love, and I tell him so most every time I see him." + +It was terrible to Anna to sit and hear all this, and the room grew +dark as she listened; but she forced back her pain, and, stroking the +curly head almost resting in her lap, said kindly: + +"You love him very much, don't you, darling; so much that it would be +hard to give him up?" + +"Yes; oh, yes. I could not give him up now, except to God. I trust I +could do that, though once I could not, I am sure," and, nestling +closer to Anna, Lucy whispered to her of the new-born hope that she +was better than she used to be, that daily interviews with Arthur had +not been without their effect, and now, she trusted, she tried to do +right, from a higher motive than just the pleasing of him. + +"God bless you, darling," was Anna's response, as she clasped the +hand of the young girl who was now far more worthy to be Arthur's wife +than once she had been. + +If Anna ever had a thought of telling Arthur, it would have been put +aside by that interview with Lucy. She could not harm that pure, +loving, trusting girl, and she sent her from her with a kiss and +blessing, praying silently that she might never know a shadow of the +pain which she was suffering. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +MRS. MEREDITH HAS A CONSCIENCE. + + +She had one, years before, but, since the summer day when she sent +from her the white-faced man whose heart she had broken, it had been +hardening over with a stony crust which nothing, it seemed, could +break. And yet there were times when she was softened and wished that +much which she had done might be blotted out from the great book in +which she believed. + +There was many a misdeed recorded there against her, she knew, and +occasionally there stole over her a strange disquietude as to how she +could confront them when they all came up against her. + +Usually, she could cast such thoughts aside by a drive down gay +Broadway, or, at most, a call at Stewart's; but the sight of Anna's +white face and the knowing what made it so white was a constant +reproach, and conscience gradually wakened from its torpor enough to +whisper of the only restitution in her power--that of confession to +Arthur. + +But from this she shrank nervously. She could not humble herself thus +to any one, and she would not either. Then came the fear lest by +another than herself her guilt should come to light. What if Thornton +Hastings should find her out? She was half afraid he suspected her +now, and that gave her the keenest pang of all, for she respected +Thornton highly, and it would cost her much to lose his good opinion. + +She had lost him for her niece, but she could not spare him from +herself, and so, in sad perplexity, which wore upon her visibly, the +autumn days went on until at last she sat one morning in her +dressing-room and read in a foreign paper: + +"Died, at Strasburgh, August 31st, Edward Coleman, aged 46." + +That was all; but the paper dropped from the trembling hands, and the +proud woman of the world bowed her head upon the cold marble of the +table and wept aloud. She was not Mrs. Meredith now. She was Julia +Ruthven again, and she stood with Edward Coleman out in the grassy +orchard, where the apple-blossoms were dropping from the trees and the +air was full of insects' hum and the song of matin birds. She was the +wealthy Mrs. Meredith now, and he was dead in Strasburgh. True to her +he had been to the last; for he had never married, and those who had +met him abroad had brought back the same report of "a white-haired +man, old before his time, with a tired, sad look upon his face." That +look she had written there, and she wept on as she recalled the past +and murmured softly: + +"Poor Edward! I loved you all the while, but I sold myself for gold, +and it turned your brown locks snowy-white, poor darling!" and her +hands moved up and down the folds of her cashmere robe, as if it were +the brown locks they were smoothing just as they used to do. Then came +a thought of Anna, whose face wore much the look which Edward's did +when he went slowly from the orchard and left her there alone, with +the apple-blossoms dropping on her head and the wild bees' hum in her +ear. + +"I can at least do right in that respect," she said; "I can undo the +past to some extent and lessen the load of sin rolling upon my +shoulders. I will write to Arthur Leighton. I surely need tell no one +else; not yet, at least, lest he has outlived his love for Anna. I can +trust to his discretion and to his honor, too. He will not betray me +unless it is necessary, and then only to Anna. Edward would bid me do +it if he could speak. He was somewhat like Arthur Leighton." + +And so, with the dead man in Strasburgh before her eyes, Mrs. +Meredith nerved herself to write to Arthur Leighton, confessing the +fraud imposed upon him, imploring his forgiveness and begging him to +spare her as much as possible. + +"I know from Anna's own lips how much she has always loved you," she +wrote in conclusion; "but she does not know of the stolen letter, and +I leave you to make such use of the knowledge as you shall think +proper." + +She did not put in a single plea for the poor, little Lucy, dancing +so gayly over the mine just ready to explode. She was purely selfish +still, with all her qualms of conscience, and thought only of Anna, +whom she would make happy at another's sacrifice. So she never hinted +that it was possible for Arthur to keep his word pledged to Lucy +Harcourt, and, as she finished her letter and placed it in an envelope +with the one which Arthur had sent to Anna, her thoughts leaped +forward to the wedding she would give her niece--a wedding not quite +like that she had designed for Mrs. Thornton Hastings, but a quiet, +elegant affair, just suited to a clergyman who was marrying a Ruthven. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +THE LETTER RECEIVED. + + +Arthur had been spending the evening at Prospect Hill. The Hethertons +had returned and would remain till after the fifteenth, and since they +had come the rector found it even pleasanter calling there than it had +been before, with only his bride-elect to entertain him. Sure of Dr. +Bellamy, Fanny had laid aside her sharpness, and was exceedingly witty +and brilliant, while, now that it was settled, the colonel was too +thoroughly a gentleman to be otherwise than gracious to his future +nephew; and Mrs. Hetherton was always polite and lady-like, so that +the rector looked forward with a good deal of interest to the evenings +he usually gave to Lucy, who, though satisfied to have him in her +sight, still preferred the olden time, when she had him all to herself +and was not disquieted with the fear that she did not know enough for +him, as she often was when she heard him talking with Fanny and her +uncle of things she did not understand. + +This evening, however, the family were away and she received him +alone, trying so hard to come up to his capacity, talking so +intelligibly of books she had been reading and looking so lovely in +her winter crimson dress, besides being so sweetly affectionate and +confiding, that for once since his engagement Arthur was more than +content, and returned her modest caresses with a warmth he had not +felt before. He did love her, he said to himself, or, at least, he was +learning to love her very much; and when at last he took his leave, +and she went with him to the door, there was an unwonted tenderness in +his manner as he pushed her gently back, for the first snow of the +season was falling and the large flakes dropped upon her golden hair, +from which he brushed them carefully away. + +"I cannot let my darling take cold," he said, and Lucy felt a strange +thrill of joy, for never before had he called her his darling, and +sometimes she had thought that the love she received was not as great +as the love she gave. + +But she did not think so now, and in an ecstasy of joy she stood in +the deep recess of the bay window, watching him as he went away +through the moonlight and the feathery cloud of snow, wondering why, +when she was so happy, there could cling to her a haunted presentiment +that she and Arthur would never meet again just as they had parted. + +Arthur, on the contrary, was troubled with no such presentiment. Of +Anna he hardly thought, or, if he did, the vision was obscured by the +fair picture he had seen standing in the door, with the snowflakes +resting in her hair like pearls in a golden coronet. And Arthur +thanked his God that he was beginning at last to feel right--that the +solemn vows that he was so soon to utter would be more than a mockery. + +It was Arthur's work to teach others how dark and mysterious are the +ways of Providence, but he had not himself half learned that lesson in +all its strange reality; but the lesson was coming on apace; each +stride of his swift-footed beast brought him nearer to the great shock +waiting for him upon the study table, where Thomas, his man, had put +it. + +He saw it the first thing on entering the room, but he did not take +it up until the snow was brushed from his garments and he had warmed +himself by the cheerful fire blazing on the hearth. Then, sitting in +his easy-chair, and moving the lamp nearer to him, he took Mrs. +Meredith's letter and broke the seal, starting as if a serpent had +stung him when, in the note inclosed, he recognized his own +handwriting, the same he had sent to Anna when his heart was so full +of hope as the brown stalks now beating against his windows with a +dismal sound were full of fragrant blossoms. Both had died since +then--the roses and his hopes--And Arthur almost wished that he, too, +were dead when he read Mrs. Meredith's letter and saw the gulf his +feet were treading. Like the waves of the sea, his love for Anna came +rolling back upon him, augmented and intensified by all that he had +suffered, and by the terrible conviction that it could not be, +although, alas! "it might have been." + +He repeated the words over and over again, as stupified with pain, he +sat gazing at vacancy, thinking how true was the couplet-- + + "Of all sad words of tongue and pen, + The saddest are these, it might have been." + +He could not even pray at once, his brain was so confused, but when, +at last, the white, quivering lips could move, and the poor aching +heart could pray, he only whispered, "God help me to do right," and by +that prayer he knew that for a single instant there had crept across +his mind the possibility of sacrificing Lucy, who loved and trusted +him so much. But only for an instant. He could not cast her from him, +though to take her now, knowing what he did, were almost death itself. + +"But God can help me to bear it," he cried; then, falling upon his +knees, with his face bowed to the floor, the Rector of St. Mark's +prayed as he had never prayed before--first for himself, whose need +was greatest, and then for Lucy, that she might never know what making +her happy had cost him, and then for Anna, whose name he could not +speak. "That other one," he called her, and his heart kept swelling in +his throat and preventing his utterance, so that the words he would +say never reached his lips. + +But God heard them just the same, and knew his child was asking that +Anna might forget him, if to remember him was pain; that she might +learn to love another far worthier than he had ever been. + +He did not think of Mrs. Meredith; he had no feeling of resentment +then; he was too wholly crushed to care how his ruin had been brought +about, and, long after the wood fire on the hearth had turned to cold, +gray ashes, he knelt upon the floor and battled with his grief, and +when the morning broke it found him still in the cheerless room where +he had passed the entire night and from which he went forth +strengthened, as he hoped, to do what he believed to be his duty. This +was on Saturday, and on the Sunday following there was no service at +St. Mark's. The rector was sick, the sexton said; "hard sick, too, he +had heard," and the Hetherton carriage, with Lucy in it, drove swiftly +to the rectory, where the quiet and solitude awed and frightened Lucy +as she entered the house and asked the housekeeper how Mr. Leighton +was. + +"It is very sudden," she said. "He was perfectly well when he left me +on Friday night. Please tell him I am here." + +The housekeeper shook her head. Her master's orders were that no one +but the doctor should be admitted, she said, repeating what Arthur had +told her in anticipation of just such an infliction as this. + +But Lucy was not to be denied. Arthur was hers, his sickness was +hers, his suffering was hers, and see him she would. + +"He surely did not mean me when he asked that no one should be +admitted. Tell him it is I; it is Lucy," she said with an air of +authority, which, in one so small, so pretty and so child-like, only +amused Mrs. Brown, who departed with the message, while Lucy sat down +with her feet upon the stove and looked around the sitting-room, +thinking that it was smaller and poorer than the one at Prospect Hill, +and how she would remodel it when she was mistress there. + +"He says you can come," was the word Mrs. Brown brought back, and, +with a gleam of triumph in her eye and a toss of the head, which said, +"I told you so," Lucy went softly into the darkened room and shut the +door behind her. + +Arthur had half expected this and had nerved himself to meet it, but +the cold sweat stood on his face and his heart throbbed painfully as +Lucy bent over him and Lucy's tears fell on his face while she took +his feverish hands in hers and murmured softly, "Poor, dear Arthur, I +am so sorry for you, and if I could I'd bear the pain so willingly." + +He knew she would; she was just as loving and unselfish as that, and +he wound his arms around her and drew her down close to him while he +whispered, "My poor, little Lucy; I don't deserve this from you." + +She did not know what he meant, and she only answered him with +kisses, while her little hands moved caressingly across his forehead +just as they had done years ago in Rome, when she soothed the pain +away. There certainly was a mesmeric influence emanating from those +hands, and Arthur felt its power, growing very quiet and at last +falling away to sleep, while the soft passes went on, and Lucy held +her breath lest she would waken him. + +"She was a famous nurse," the physician said when he came, +constituting her his coadjutor and making her tread wild with joy and +importance when he gave his patient's medicine into her hands. + +"It was hardly proper for her niece to stay," Mrs. Hetherton +thought, but Lucy was one who could trample down proprieties, and it +was finally arranged that Fanny should stay with her. So, while Fanny +went to bed and slept, Lucy sat all night in the sick room with Mrs. +Brown, and when the next morning came she was looking very pale and +languid, but very beautiful withal. At least, such was the mental +compliment paid her by Thornton Hastings, who was passing through +Hanover and had stopped over one train to see his old college friend +and, perhaps, tell him what he began to feel it was his duty to tell +him in spite of his promise to Anna. She was nearly well now and had +driven with him twice to the park, but he could not be insensible to +what she suffered, or how she shrank from having the projected wedding +discussed, and, in his intense pity for her, he had half resolved to +break his word and tell Arthur what he knew. But he changed his mind +when he had been in Hanover a few hours and watched the little fairy +who, like some ministering angel, glided about the sick room, showing +herself every whit a woman, and making him repent that he had ever +called her frivolous or silly. She was not either, he said, and, with +a magnanimity for which he thought himself entitled to a good deal of +praise, he even felt that it was very possible for Arthur to love the +gentle little girl who smoothed his pillows so tenderly and whose +fingers threaded so lovingly the damp, brown locks when she thought +he, Thornton, was not looking on. She was very coy of him and very +distant towards him, too, for she had not forgotten his sin, and she +treated him at first with a reserve for which he could not account. +But, as the days went on, and Arthur grew so sick that his +parishioners began to tremble for their young minister's life, and to +think it perfectly right for Lucy to stay with him, even if she was +assisted in her labor of love by the stranger from New York, the +reserve disappeared and on the most perfect terms of amity she and +Thornton Hastings watched together by Arthur's side. Thornton Hastings +learned more lessons than one in that sick room where Arthur's faith +in God triumphed over the terrors of the grave, which, at one time, +seemed so near, while the timid Lucy, whom he had only known as a gay +butterfly of fashion, dared before him to pray that God would spare +her promised husband or give her grace to say, "Thy will be done." + +Thornton could hardly say that he was skeptical before, but any doubts +he might have had touching the great fundamental truths on which a +true religion rests were gone forever, and he left Hanover a changed +man in more respects than one. + +Arthur did not die, and on the Sunday preceding the week when the +usual Christmas decorations were to commence he came again before his +people, his face very pale and worn, and wearing upon it a look which +told of a new baptism, an added amount of faith which had helped to +lift him above the fleeting cares of this present life. And yet there +was much of earth clinging to him still, and it made itself felt in +the rapid beating of his heart when he glanced towards the square pew +where Lucy knelt and knew that she was giving thanks for him restored +again. + +Once, in the earlier stages of his convalescence, he had almost +betrayed his secret by asking her which she would rather do--bury him +from her sight, feeling that he loved her to the last, or give him to +another, now that she knew he would recover. There was a frightened +look in Lucy's eyes as she replied: "I would ten thousand times rather +see you dead, and know that, even in death, you were my own, than to +lose you that other way. Oh, Arthur, you have no thought of leaving me +now?" + +"No, darling, I have not, I am yours always," he said, feeling that +the compact was sealed forever and that God blessed the sealing. + +He had written to Mrs. Meredith, granting her his forgiveness and +asking that, if Anna did not already know of the deception, she might +never be enlightened. And Mrs. Meredith had answered that Anna had +only heard a rumor that an offer had been made her, but that she +regarded it as a mistake, and was fast recovering both her health and +spirits. Mrs. Meredith did not add her surprise at Arthur's generosity +in adhering to his engagement, nor hint that, now her attack of +conscience was so safely over, she was glad he did so, having hope yet +of that house on Madison Square; but Arthur guessed at it and +dismissed her from his mind just as he tried to dismiss every +unpleasant thought, waiting with a trusting heart for whatever the +future might bring. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +VALENCIA. + + +Very extensive preparations were making at Prospect Hill for the +double wedding to occur on the 15th. After much debate and +consultation, Fanny had decided to take the doctor then; and thus she, +too, shared largely in the general interest and excitement which +pervaded everything. + +Both brides elect seemed very happy, but in a very different way; for, +while Fanny was quiet and undemonstrative, Lucy seemed wild with joy, +and danced gayly about the house--now in the kitchen, where the cake +was making; now in the chamber where the plain sewing was done, and +then flitting to her own room in quest of Valencia, who was sent on +divers errands, the little lady thinking that, now the time was so +near, it would be proper for her to remain indoors and not show +herself in public quite as freely as she had been in the habit of +doing. + +So she remained at home, while they missed her in the back streets and +bylanes, the Widow Hobbs, who was still an invalid, pining for a sight +of her bright face, and only half compensated for its absence by the +charities which Valencia brought; the smart waiting-maid putting on +innumerable airs and making Mrs. Hobbs feel keenly how greatly she +thought herself demeaned by coming to such a heathenish place as that. + +The Hanoverians, too, missed her in the street, but for this they +made ample amends by discussing the doings at Prospect Hill and +commenting upon the bridal trousseau which was sent up from New York +the very week before Christmas, thus affording a most fruitful theme +for conversation for the women and girls engaged in trimming the +church. + +There were dresses of every conceivable fabric, they said, but none +were quite so grand as the wedding-dress itself--the heavy white +silk which could "stand alone," and trailed "a full half-yard behind." + +It was also whispered round that, not content with seeing the effect +of her bridal robes as they lay upon the bed, Miss Lucy Harcourt had +actually tried them on--wreath, veil and all--and stood before the +glass until Miss Fanny had laughed at her for being so vain and +foolish, and said she was a pretty specimen for a sober clergyman's +wife. + +For all this gossip the villagers were indebted mostly to Miss +Valencia Le Barre, who, ever since her arrival at Prospect Hill, had +been growing somewhat disenchanted with the young mistress she had +expected to rule even more completely than she had ruled Mrs. +Meredith. But in this she was mistaken, and it did not improve her +never very amiable temper to find that she could not with safety +appropriate more than half her mistress' handkerchiefs, collars, +cuffs, and gloves, to say nothing of perfumery, and pomades, and, as +this was a new state of things with Valencia, she chafed at the +administration under which she had so willingly put herself, and told +things of her mistress which no sensible servant would ever have +reported. And Lucy gave her plenty to tell. + +Frank and outspoken as a child, she acted as she felt, and did try on +the bridal dress, screaming with pleased delight when Valencia +fastened the veil and let its fleecy folds fall gracefully around her. + +"I wonder what Arthur will think, I do so wish he was here," she had +said, ordering a hand-glass brought that she might see herself from +behind and know just how much her dress did trail, and how it looked +beneath the costly veil. + +She was very beautiful in her bridal robes, and she kept them on till +Fanny began to chide her for her vanity, and, even then, she lingered +before the mirror, as if loath to take them off. + +"I don't believe in presentiments," she said to Fanny; "but, do you +know, it seems to me just as if I should never wear this again," and +she smoothed thoughtfully the folds of the heavy silk she had just +laid upon the bed. "I don't know what can happen to prevent it, unless +Arthur should die. He was so pale last Sunday and seemed so weak that +I shuddered every time I looked at him. I mean to drive round there +this afternoon," she continued. "I suppose it is too cold for him to +venture as far as here, and he has no carriage, either." + +She went to the parsonage that afternoon, and the women in the church +saw her as she drove by, the gorgeous colors of her carriage blanket +flashing in the wintry sunshine just as the diamonds flashed upon the +hand she waved gayly towards them. + +There was a little too much of the lady patroness about her quite to +suit the plain Hanoverians, especially those who were neither high +enough or low enough to be honored with her notice, and they returned +to their wreathmaking and gossip, wondering under their breath if it +would not, on the whole, have been just as well if their clergyman had +married Anna Ruthven instead of this fine city girl with her Parisian +manners. + +A gleam of intelligence shot from the gray eyes of Valencia, who was +in a most unreasonable mood. + +"She did not like to stain her hands with the nasty hemlock more than +some other folks," she had said, when, after the trying on of the +bridal dress, Lucy had remonstrated with her for some duty neglected, +and then bidden her to go to the church and help if she were needed. + +"I must certainly dismiss you," Lucy had said, wondering how Mrs. +Meredith had borne so long with the insolent girl, who went +unwillingly to the church, where she was at work when the carriage +drove by. + +She had thought many times of the letter she had read, and, more than +once, when particularly angry, it had been upon her lips to tell her +mistress that she was not the first whom Mr. Leighton had asked to be +his wife, if, indeed, she was his choice at all; but there was +something in Lucy's manner which held her back; besides which, she +was, perhaps, unwilling to confess to her own meanness in reading the +stolen letter. + +"I could tell them something if I would," she thought, as she bent +over the hemlock boughs and listened to the remarks; but, for that +time, she kept the secret and worked on moodily, while the +unsuspecting Lucy went her way and was soon alighting at the rectory +gate. + +Arthur saw her as she came up the walk and went to meet her. + +He was looking very pale and miserable, and his clothes hung loosely +upon him; but he welcomed her kindly leading her in to the fire, and +trying to believe that he was glad to see her sitting there with her +little high-heeled boots upon the fender and the bright hues of her +Balmoral just showing beneath her dress of blue merino. + +She went all over the house, as she usually did, suggesting +alterations and improvements, and greatly confusing good Mrs. Brown, +who trudged obediently after her, wondering what she and her master +were ever to do with that gay-plumaged bird, whose ways were so unlike +their own. + +"You must drive with me to the church," she said at last to Arthur, +"Fresh air will do you good, and you stay moped up too much. I wanted +you to-day at Prospect Hill, for this morning's express from New York +brought----" + +She stood up on tiptoe to whisper the great news to him, but his +pulses did not quicken in the least, even when she told him how +charming was the bridal dress. He was standing before the mirror and, +glancing at himself, he said, half laughingly, half sadly: + +"I am a pitiful-looking bridegroom to go with all that finery: I +should not think you would want me, Lucy." + +"But I do," she answered, holding his hand and leading him to the +carriage, which took him to the church. + +He had not intended going there as long as there was an excuse for +staying away, and he felt himself grow sick and faint when he stood +amid the Christmas decorations and remembered the last year when he +and Anna had fastened the wreaths upon the wall. + +They were trimming the church very elaborately in honor of him and his +bride, and white artificial flowers, so natural that they could not be +detected, were mingled with scarlet leaves and placed among the mass +of green. The effect was very fine and Arthur tried to praise it, but +his face belied his words; and, after he was gone, the disappointed +girls declared that he acted more like a man about to be hung than one +so soon to be married. + +It was very late that night when Lucy summoned Valencia to comb out +her long, thick curls, and Valencia was tired, and cross, and sleepy, +handling the brush so awkwardly and snarling her mistress's hair so +often that Lucy expostulated with her sharply, and this awoke the +slumbering demon, which, bursting into full life, could no longer be +restrained; and, in amazement, which kept her silent, Lucy listened +while Valencia taunted her "with standing in Anna Ruthven's shoes," +and told her all she knew of the letter stolen by Mrs. Meredith, and +the one she carried to Arthur. But Valencia's anger quickly cooled, +and she trembled with fear when she saw how deathly white her mistress +grew at first and heard the loud beating of her heart, which seemed +trying to burst from its prison and fall bleeding at the feet of the +poor, wretched girl, around whose lips the white foam gathered as she +motioned Valencia to stop and whispered: + +"I am dying!" + +She was not dying, but the fainting fit which ensued was longer and +more like death than that which had come upon Anna when she heard that +Arthur was lost. Twice they thought her heart had ceased to beat, and, +in an agony of remorse, Valencia hung over her, accusing herself as +her murderer, but giving no other explanation to those around her +than: "I was combing her hair when the white froth spirted all over +her wrapper, and she said that she was dying." + +And that was all the family knew of the strange attack, which lasted +till the dawn of the day, and left upon Lucy's face a look as if years +and years of anguish had passed over her young head and left its +footprints behind. + +Early in the morning she asked to see Valencia alone, and the +repentant girl went to her prepared to take back all she had said and +declare the whole a lie. But Lucy wrung the truth from her, and she +repeated the story again so clearly that Lucy had no longer a doubt +that Anna was preferred to herself, and sending Valencia away, she +moaned piteously: + +"Oh, what shall I do? What is my duty?" + +The part which hurt her most of all was the terrible certainty that +Arthur did not love her as he loved Anna Ruthven. She saw it now just +as it was; how, in an unguarded moment, he had offered himself to save +her good name from gossip, and how, ever since, his life had been a +constant struggle to do his duty by her. + +"Poor Arthur," she sobbed, "yours has been a hard lot trying to act +the love you did not feel; but it shall be so no longer. Lucy will set +you free." + +This was her final decision, but she did not reach it till a day and a +night had passed, during which she lay with her white face turned to +the wall, saying she wanted nothing except to be left alone. + +"When I can, I'll tell you," she had said to Fanny and her aunt, when +they insisted upon knowing the cause of her distress. "When I can I'll +tell you. Leave me alone till then." + +So they ceased to worry her, but Fanny sat constantly in the room +watching the motionless figure, which took whatever she offered, but +otherwise gave no sign of life until the morning of the second day, +when it turned slowly towards her, the livid lips quivering piteously +and making an attempt to smile as they said: + +"Fanny, I can tell you now; I have made up my mind." + +Fanny's black eyes were dim with the truest tears she had ever shed +when Lucy's story was ended, and her voice was very low as she asked: + +"And do you mean to give him up at this late hour?" + +"Yes, I mean to give him up. I have been over the entire ground many +times, even to the deep humiliation of what people will say, and I +have come each time to the same conclusion. It is right that Arthur +should be released and I shall release him." + +"And you--what will you do?" Fanny asked, gazing in wonder and awe at +the young girl, who answered: + +"I do not know; I have not thought. I guess God will take care of +that." + +He would, indeed, take care of that just as he took care of her, +inclining the Hetherton family to be so kind and tender towards her, +and keeping Arthur from the house during the time when the Christmas +decorations were completed and the Christmas festival was held. + +Many were the inquiries made for her, and many the thanks and wishes +for her speedy restoration sent her by those whom she had so +bountifully remembered. + +Thornton Hastings, too, who had come to town and was present at the +church on Christmas-eve, asked for her with almost as much interest as +Arthur, although the latter had hoped she was not seriously ill and +expressed a regret that she was not there, saying he should call on +her on the morrow after the morning service. + +"Oh, I cannot see him here. I must tell him there, at the rectory, in +the very room where he asked Anna and me both to be his wife," Lucy +said when Fanny reported Arthur's message. "I am able to go there and +I must. It will be fine sleighing to-morrow. See, the snow is falling +now," and pushing back the curtain, Lucy looked dreamily out upon the +fast whitening ground, sighing, as she remembered the night when the +first snowflakes fell and she stood watching them with Arthur at her +side. + +Fanny did not oppose her cousin, and, with a kiss upon the +blue-veined forehead, she went to her own room, leaving Lucy to think +over for the hundredth time what she would say to Arthur. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +CHRISTMAS DAY. + + +The worshippers at St. Mark's on Christmas morning heard the music of +the bells as the Hetherton sleigh passed by, but none of them knew +whither it was bound, or the scene which awaited the rector, when, his +services over, he started towards home. + +Lucy had kept her word, and, just as Mrs. Brown was looking at the +clock to see if it was time to put her fowls to bake, she heard the +hall-door open softly and almost dropped her dripping-pan in her +surprise at the sight of Lucy Harcourt, with her white face and great +sunken blue eyes, which looked so mournfully at her as Lucy said: + +"I want to go to Arthur's room--the library, I mean." + +"Why, child, what is the matter? I heard you was sick, but did not +s'pose 'twas anything like this. You are paler than a ghost," Mrs. +Brown exclaimed as she tried to unfasten Lucy's hood and cloak and +lead her to the fire. + +But Lucy was not cold, she said. She would rather go at once to +Arthur's room. Mrs. Brown made no objection, though she wondered if +the girl was crazy as she went back to her fowls and Christmas +pudding, leaving Lucy to find her way alone to Arthur's study, which +looked so like its owner, with his dressing-gown across the lounge, +just where he had thrown it, his slippers under the table and his +arm-chair standing near the table, where he sat when he asked Lucy to +be his wife, and where she now sat down, panting for breath and gazing +dreamily around with the look of a frightened bird when seeking for +some avenue of escape from an appalling danger. There was no escape, +and, with a moan, she laid her head upon the table and prayed that +Arthur might come quickly while she had sense and strength to tell +him. She heard his step at last, and rose up to meet him, smiling a +little at his sudden start when he saw her there. + +"It's only I," she said, shedding back the clustering curls from her +pallid face, and grasping the chair to steady herself and keep from +falling. "I am not here to frighten you, I've come to do you good--to +set you free. Oh, Arthur, you do not know how terribly you have been +wronged, and I did not know it, either, till a few days ago. She never +received your letter--Anna never did. If she had she would have +answered yes, and have been in my place now; but she is going to be +there. I give you up to Anna. I'm here to tell you so. But oh, Arthur, +it hurts--it hurts." + +He knew it hurt by the agonizing expression of her face, but he could +not go near her for a moment, so overwhelming was his surprise at what +he saw and heard. But, when the first shock to them both was past, and +he could listen to her more rational account of what she knew and what +she was there to do, he refused to listen. He would not be free. He +would keep his word, he said. Matters had gone too far to be suddenly +ended. He held her to his promise and she must be his wife. + +"Can you tell me truly that you love me more than Anna?" Lucy asked, a +ray of hope dawning for an instant upon her heart, but fading into +utter darkness as Arthur hesitated to answer. + +He did love Anna best, though never had Lucy been so near supplanting +even her as at that moment, when she stood before him and told him he +was free. There was something in the magnitude of her generosity which +touched a tender chord and made her dearer to him than she had ever +been. + +"I can make you very happy," he said at last, and Lucy replied: + +"Yes, but yourself--how with yourself? Would you be happy, too? No, +Arthur, you would not, and neither should I, knowing all I do. It is +best that we should part, though it almost breaks my heart, for I have +loved you so much." + +She stopped for breath, and Arthur was wondering what he could say to +persuade her, when a cheery whistle sounded near and Thornton Hastings +appeared in the door. He had gone to the office after church, and not +knowing that anyone but Arthur was in the library, had come there at +once. + +"I beg your pardon," he said when he saw Lucy, and he was hurrying +away, but Lucy called him back, feeling that in him she should find a +powerful ally to aid her in her task. + +Appealing to him as Arthur's friend, she repeated the story rapidly, +and then went on: + +"Tell him it is best--he must not argue against me, for I feel myself +giving way through my great love for him, and it is not right. Tell +him so Mr. Hastings--plead my cause for me--say what a true woman +ought to say, for, believe me, I am in earnest in giving him to Anna." + +There was a ghastly hue upon her face, and her features looked pinched +and rigid, but the terrible heart-beats were not there. God, in his +great mercy, kept them back, else she had surely died under that +strong excitement. Thornton thought she was fainting, and, going +hastily to her side, passed his arm around her and put her in the +chair; then, standing protectingly by her, he said just what first +came into his mind to say. It was a delicate matter in which to +interfere, and he handled it carefully, telling frankly of what had +passed between himself and Anna, and giving it as his opinion that she +loved Arthur to-day just as well as before she left Hanover. + +"Then, if that is so and Arthur loves her, as I know he does, it is +surely right for them to marry, and they must," Lucy exclaimed, +vehemently, while Thornton laid his hand pityingly upon her head and +said: + +"And only you be sacrificed?" + +There was something wondrously tender in the tone of Thornton's voice, +and Lucy glanced quickly up at him, while her blue eyes filled with +the first tears she had shed since she came into that room. + +"I am willing--I am ready--I have made up my mind and I shall never +revoke it," she answered, while Arthur again put in a feeble +remonstrance. + +But Thornton was on Lucy's side. He did with cooler judgment what she +could not, and when, at last, the interview was ended, there was no +ring on Lucy's forefinger, for Arthur held it in his hand and their +engagement was at an end. + +Stunned with what he had passed through, Arthur stood motionless, +while Thornton drew Lucy's cloak about her shoulders, fastened her fur +himself, tied on her satin hood, taking such care of her as a mother +would take of a suffering child. + +"It is hardly safe to send her home alone," he thought, as he looked +into her face and saw how weak she was. "As a friend of both, I ought +to accompany her." + +She was, indeed, very weak, so weak that she could scarcely stand, +and Thornton took her in his arms and carried her to the sleigh; then +springing in beside her he made her lean her tired head upon his +shoulder as they drove to Prospect Hill. She did not seem frivolous to +him now, but rather the noblest type of womanhood he had ever met. Few +could do what she had done, and there was much of warmth and fervor in +the clasp of his hand as he bade her good-by and went back to the +rectory, thinking how deceived he had been in Lucy Harcourt. + + * * * * * + +Great was the consternation and surprise in Hanover when it was known +that there was to be but one bride at Prospect Hill on the night of +the fifteenth, and various were the surmises as to the cause of the +sudden change; but, strive as they might, the good people of the +village could not get at the truth, for Valencia held her peace, while +the Hethertons were far too proud to admit of being questioned, and +Thornton Hastings stood a bulwark of defence between the people and +their clergyman, adroitly managing to have the pulpit at St. Mark's +supplied for a few weeks while he took Arthur away, saying that his +health required the change. + + * * * * * + +"You have done nobly, darling," Fanny Hetherton had said to Lucy when +she received her from Thornton's hands and heard that all was over; +then, leading her half-fainting cousin to her own cheerful room, she +made her lie down while she told of the plan she had formed when first +she heard what Lucy's intentions were. + +"I wrote to the doctor, asking if he would take a trip to Europe, so +that you could go with us, for I know you would not wish to stay here. +To-day I have his answer, saying he will go, and what is better yet, +father and mother are going, too." + +"Oh, I am so glad, so glad. I could not stay here now," Lucy replied, +sobbing herself to sleep, while Fanny sat by and watched, wondering at +the strength which had upheld her weak little cousin in the struggle +she had been through, and, now that it was over and the doctor safe +from temptation, feeling that it was just as well; for, after all, it +was a _mesalliance_ for an heiress like her cousin to marry a poor +clergyman. + + * * * * * + +There was a very quiet wedding at Prospect Hill on the night of the +fifteenth, but neither Lucy nor Arthur were there. He lay sick again +at the St. Denis in New York and she was alone in her chamber, +fighting back her tears and praying that, now the worst was over, she +might be withheld from looking back and wishing the work undone. She +went with the bridal party to New York, where she tarried for a few +days, seeing no one but Anna, for whom she sent at once. The interview +had lasted more than an hour, and Anna's eyes were swollen with +passionate weeping when at last it ended, but Lucy's face, though +white as snow, was very calm and quiet, wearing a peaceful, placid +look, which made it like the face of an angel. Two weeks later and the +steamer bore her away across the water, where she hoped to outlive the +storm which had beaten so piteously upon her. Thornton Hastings and +Anna went with her on board the ship, and for their sakes she tried to +appear natural, succeeding so well that it was a very pleasant picture +which Thornton cherished in his mind of a frail little figure standing +upon the deck, holding its waterproof together with one hand and with +the other waving a smiling adieu to Anna and himself. + +More than a year after, Thornton Hastings followed that figure across +the sea, finding it in beautiful Venice, sailing again through the +moon-lit streets and listening to the music which came so oft from the +passing gondolas. It had recovered its former roundness and the face +was even more beautiful than it had been before, for the light +frivolity was all gone and there was reigning in its stead a peaceful, +subdued expression which made Lucy Harcourt very fair to look upon. At +least, so thought Thornton Hastings, and he lingered at her side, +feeling glad that she had given no outward token of agitation when he +said to her: + +"There was a wedding at St. Mark's, in Hanover, just before I left; +can you guess who the happy couple were?" + +"Yes--Arthur and Anna. She wrote me they were to be married on +Christmas Eve. I am so glad it has come round at last." + +Then she questioned him of the bridal, of Arthur, and even of Anna's +dress, her manner evincing that the old wound had healed and nothing +but a sear remained to tell where it had been. And so the days went on +beneath the sunny Italian skies, until one glorious night, when +Thornton spoke his mind, alluding to the time when each loved another, +expressing himself as glad that, in his case, the matter had ended as +it did, and then asking Lucy if she could conscientiously be his wife. + +"What, you marry a frivolous plaything like me?" Lucy asked, her +woman's pride flashing up once more, but this time playfully, as +Thornton knew by the joyous light in her eye. + +She told him what she meant and how she had hated him for it, and then +they laughed together; but Thornton's kiss smothered the laugh on +Lucy's lips, for he guessed what her answer was, and that this, his +second wooing, was more successful than his first. + + * * * * * + +"Married, in Rome, on Thursday, April 10th, Thornton Hastings, Esq., +of New York City, to Miss Lucy Harcourt, also of New York, and niece +of Colonel James Hetherton." + +Anna was out in the rectory garden bending over a bed of hyacinths +when Arthur brought her the paper and pointed to the notice. + +"Oh, I am so glad--so glad--so glad!" she exclaimed, emphasizing each +successive "glad" a little more and setting down her foot, as if to +give it force. "I have never dared to be quite as happy with you as I +might," she continued, leaning lovingly against her husband, "for +there was always a thought of Lucy and what a fearful price she paid +for our happiness. But now it is all as it should be; and, Arthur, am +I very vain in thinking that she is better suited to Thornton Hastings +than I ever was, and that I do better as your wife than Lucy would +have done?" + +A kiss was Arthur's only answer, but Anna was satisfied, and there +rested upon her face a look of perfect content as all that warm spring +afternoon she worked in her pleasant garden, thinking of the +newly-married pair in Rome, and glancing occasionally at the open +window of the library, where Arthur was busy with his sermon, his pen +moving all the faster for the knowing that Anna was just within his +call--that by turning his head he could see her dear face, and that +by-and-by when his work was done she would come in to him, and with +her loving words and winsome ways, make him forget how tired he was, +and thank heaven again for the great gift bestowed when it gave him +Anna Ruthven. + + +THE END. + + * * * * * + + + + +AUNT HENRIETTA'S MISTAKE + +BY FRANCES HENSHAW BADEN. + + "Before thy soul, at this deep lottery, + Draw forth her prize ordained by destiny, + Know that there's no recanting a first choice; + Choose then discreetly." + + +"Heigh-ho! This is Valentine's day. Oh, how I would like to get a +valentine! Did you ever get one, aunty?" said little Etta Mayfield. + +"Yes, many of them. But not when I was a child. In my day children +were children. You get a valentine! I'm e'en a'most struck dumb with +astonishment to hear you think of such things. Go, get your doll-baby, +or your sampler, and look on that. Saints of Mercy! It seems only +yesterday you were a baby in long clothes," answered Miss Henrietta +Mayfield, a spinster of uncertain age; but the folks in the village, +who always knew everything, declared she had not owned to a day over +thirty-five for the last ten years. This, if true, was quite +excusable, for Miss Henrietta's little toilette glass reflected a +bright, pleasant, and remarkably youthful face. + +"I'm almost seventeen, aunty, and I'm tired of being treated like a +child," said Etta, with a pout of her rosy lips. + +"Ten years to come will be plenty time enough for you to think of +such things. A valentine, indeed! I'd like to know who is to send one +to you, or to any one else. There are only three unmarried men in our +village; which of them would you like for your valentine; Jake Spikes, +the blind fiddler; Bill Bowen, the deaf mail-boy, or Squire Sloughman? +If the squire sends a valentine, I rather guess it will be to me. Oh, +I forgot! There's the handsome stranger that boarded last summer with +Miss Plimpkins. I noticed him at church Sunday. Come down to make a +little visit and bring Miss Plimpkins a nice present ag'in, I guess. +He is mighty grateful to her for taking such good care of him while he +was sick. A uncommon handsome man. But 'taint a bit likely he'll think +of a baby like you. He is a man old enough to know better--near forty, +likely. He was monstrous polite to me; always finding the hymns, and +passing his book to me. And I noticed Sunday he looked amazing +pleasing at me. Land! it's ten o'clock. You'd better run over to the +office and get the paper. No, I'll go myself. I want to stop in the +store, to get some yarn and a little tea." + +Miss Henrietta hurried off, and little Etta pouted on and murmured +something about: + +"People must have been dreadful slow and dull in aunty's young days," +and then her thoughts wandered to that same handsome stranger. + +She, too, had seen him in church on Sunday, and knew well how the rosy +blush mantled her fair face when she saw the pleasant smile she had +hoped was for her. But she might have known better, she thought; such +a splendid man would never think of her. She would be sure to die an +old maid, all on account of that dark-eyed stranger. + +"Has Bill got in with the mail?" asked Miss Mayfield. + +"Yes, miss; here's your paper what Bill brought, and here is a letter +or valentine what Bill didn't bring. It's from the village," said the +little old postmaster, with a merry laugh. + +Yes, no mistaking, it was a valentine, directed in a fine manly hand +to Miss Henrietta Mayfield. "From Squire Sloughman," thought Miss +Henrietta. "He has spoken, or rather written his hopes at last." But, +no, that was not his handwriting. + +Miss Mayfield stepped out on the porch, carefully opened the envelope, +and glanced hurriedly over the contents, and then at the +signature--Arthur Linton. + +"Well, well, who would have thought?" said she; "that is the name of +the handsome stranger! Just to think of his really taking a liking to +me. Stop! maybe he is a sharper from town, who has heard of my having +a little property, and that's what he's after. I'll read his valentine +over again: + + Do not think me presumptuous, dear maid, in having dared to write + you. No longer can I resist the continued pleadings of my heart. + I have loved you ever since your sweet blue eyes, beaming with + their pure, loving light, met my gaze. I have seized the + opportunity offered by St. Valentine's day to speak and learn my + fate. I will call this evening and hear from your dear lips if I + shall be permited to try and teach your heart to love, + + ARTHUR LINTON. + +"Well, truly that is beautiful language. It is a long day since +anybody talked of my blue eyes. They were blue once, and I suppose are +so still. Well, he writes as if he meant it. I'll see him, and give +him a little bit of encouragement. Perhaps that seeing some one else +after me will make the squire speak out. For six years he has been +following me. For what? He has never said. I like Squire +Sloughman--(his name should be Slowman). I'll try and hasten him on +with all the heart I've got left. The most of it went to the bottom of +the cruel ocean with my poor sailor-boy. Ah! if it had not been for +his sad end, I would not now be caring for any man, save my poor +Willie. But it is a lonesome life I am living--and it's kind of +natural for a woman to think kindly of some man; and the squire is a +real good fellow, and, to save me, I can't help wishing he would +speak, and be done with it. + +"This valentine may be for my good luck, after all," Miss Henrietta's +thoughts were swift now, planning for the future; her feet kept pace +with them, and before she knew it, she was at her own door. + +"Why, aunty, how handsome you do look! your cheeks are as rosy as our +apples," said Etta. + +"Is that such a rarity, you should make so much of it?" answered Miss +Henrietta. + +"No, indeed, aunty, I only hope I may ever be as good looking as you +are always. Did you get your yarn and tea?" + +"Land! if I hain't forgot them! You see, child, the wind is blowing +rather fresh, and I was anxious to get back," she answered her niece; +but said to herself, "Henrietta Mayfield, I am ashamed on you to let +any man drive your senses away." + +"Never mind, Ettie; you can go over and spend the afternoon with +Jessie Jones, and then get the things for me," she continued, glad of +an excuse to get Etta away. + +Miss Henrietta was very particular with her toilet that afternoon, and +truly the result was encouraging. She was satisfied that she was +handsome still. + +It was near dark when she saw the handsome stranger coming up the +garden walk. + +"Did Miss Henrietta Mayfield receive a letter from me to-day?" he +asked. + +"Yes, sir; walk in," answered Miss Henrietta, who, although quite +flurried, managed to appear quite cool. + +"This, perhaps, may seem very precipitate in me, and I have feared +perhaps you might not look with any favor on my suit. Do, dear lady, +ease my fears. Can I hope that in time I may win the heart I am so +anxious to secure?" + +"Ahem--well, I cannot tell, sure. You know, sir, we have to know a +person before we can love him. But I must confess I do feel very +favorably inclined towards you." + +"Bless you, my dear friend; I may call you so now, until I claim a +nearer, dearer title. If you are now kindly disposed, I feel sure of +ultimate success. I feared the difference in our ages might be an +objection." + +"No, no; I do not see why it need. It is well to have a little +advantage on one side or the other. But, my dear friend, should you +fail to secure the affection, you will not think unkindly of your +friend." + +"No; only let me have a few weeks, with your continued favor, and I +ask no more. Many, many thanks," and, seizing her hand, he pressed it +to his lips. + +"Will you not now allow me to see my fair Henrietta?" he asked. + +"Oh, I have been a little flurried, and did forget it was quite dark. +I'll light the lamp in a minute." + +Etta's sweet voice was now heard humming a song in the next room. She +had returned from her visit, and as Miss Henrietta succeeded in +lighting the lamp, her bright face peeped in the door, and she said: + +"Aunty, Squire Sloughman is coming up the walk." + +"Bless her sweet face! There is my Henrietta now!" exclaimed the +visitor, and before the shade was adjusted on the lamp, she was alone. +The handsome stranger was in the next room with--Etta! + +A little scream, an exclamation of surprise from Etta, followed by the +deep, manly voice of Mr. Linton, saying: + +"Dearest Henrietta, I have your aunt's permission to win you, if I +can." + +"Henrietta! Little baby Etta! Sure enough, that was her name, too. +What an idiot she had been!" thought Henrietta, the elder. "Oh! she +hoped she had not exposed her mistake! Maybe he had not understood +her!" + +But Squire Sloughman was waiting for some one to admit him, and she +had no more time to think over the recent conversation, or to +determine whether or not Mr. Linton was aware of her blunder. + +Squire Sloughman was cordially welcomed, and after being seated a +while, observed: + +"You have got a visitor, I see," pointing to the stranger's hat lying +on the table beside him. + +"Yes, Etta's got company. The stranger that boarded at Miss Plimpkins' +last summer. He sent Etta a valentine, and has now come himself," +returned Miss Henrietta. + +"A valentine! what for?" + +"To ask her to have him, surely. And I suppose he'll be taking her off +to town to live, pretty soon." + +"And you, what will you do? It will be awful lonely here for you," +said the squire. + +"Oh! he's coming out now," thought Miss Henrietta. And she gave him a +better chance by her reply: + +"Well, I don't know that anybody cares for that. I guess no one will +run away with me." + +But she was disappointed; it came not, what she hoped for, just then. +Yet the Squire seemed very uneasy. At length he said: + +"I got a valentine myself, to-day." + +"You! What sort of a one? Comic, funny, or real in earnest?" asked +Miss Henrietta. + +"Oh! there is nothing funny about it--not a bit of laugh; all cry." + +"Land! a crying valentine." + +"Yes, a baby." + +"Squire Sloughman!" said Miss Henrietta, with severe dignity. + +"Yes, my dear, Miss Henrietta; I'll tell you all about it. You +remember my niece, who treated me so shamefully by running away and +marrying. Well, poor girl, she died a few days ago, and left her baby +for me, begging I would do for her little girl as kindly as I did by +its mother." + +"Shall you keep it?" asked Miss Henrietta. + +"I can't tell; that will depend on some one else. I may have to send +it off to the poorhouse!" + +"I'll take it myself first," said his listener. + +"Not so, my dear, without you take me, too. Hey, what say you, now? I +tell you, I've a notion to be kind and good to this little one; but a +man must have some one to help him do right. Now, it depends on you to +help me be a better or a worse man. I've been thinking of you for a +half-dozen years past, but I thought your whole heart was in little +Etta, and maybe you wouldn't take me, and I did not like to deal with +uncertainties. Now, Etta's provided for with a valentine, I'm here +offering myself and my valentine to you. Say yes or no; I'm in a hurry +now." + +"Pity but you had been so years ago," thought Miss Henrietta; but she +said: + +"Squire Sloughman, I think it the duty of every Christian to do all +the good she can. So, for that cause, and charity toward the helpless +little infant, I consent to--become----" + +"Mrs. Sloughwoman--man, I mean," said the delighted Squire, springing +up and imprinting a kiss on Miss Henrietta's lips. + +"Sloughwoman, indeed! I'll not be slow in letting you know I think you +are very hasty in your demonstrations. Wait until I give you leave," +said the happy spinster. + +"I have waited long enough. And now, my dear, do you hurry on to do +your Christian duty; remembering particularly the helpless little +infant needing your care," said the Squire, a little mischievously. + +Miss Henrietta never knew whether her mistake had been discovered. She +did not try to find out. + +In a short time there was a double wedding in the village. The brides, +Aunt Henrietta and little Etta, equally sharing the admiration of the +guests. + +Mrs. Sloughman admitted to herself, after all, it was the valentine +that brought the squire out. And she is often heard to say that she +had fully proved the truth of the old saying, "It's an ill wind that +blows nobody good. + + * * * * * + + + + +FALSE AND TRUE LOVE. + +BY FRANCES HENSHAW BADEN. + + "Though round her playful lips should glitter + Heat lightnings of a girlish scorn, + Harmless they are, for nothing bitter + In that dear heart was ever born; + That merry heart that cannot lie + Within its warm nest quietly, + But ever from the full dark eye + Is looking kindly night and morn." + + +"My son, I do not believe Valeria Fairleigh has ever a serious +thought; nothing beyond the present enjoyment, or deeper than the +devising of a becoming attire for some approaching dance or festive +occasion. Believe me, she is not the girl for a minister's wife. You +have chosen as your vocation the work of God; in this you should be +sustained by your wife: one who would enter into your labor with +energy of mind and body. She should have a heart to sympathize not +only with her husband, but his charge. I tell you, David, a man's +success and popularity in his ministry depends very much on the woman +that he has chosen to be his helpmate. Had your mother been other than +she is, I truly think I should have sunk under the many trials during +the years of my work." + +"But, father, if report speaks truly, my mother was not a very sedate +maiden. I have heard many a tale of her wild days. Pardon me, but I do +not think you are judging Miss Fairleigh with your usual benevolence +and charity. I know she is a very gay, fun-loving girl, but I believe +she has a warm, true heart. I have never known her to do a heartless +action, or turn a cold ear on any needing her sympathy." + +"Lovers are prone to see only the good and beautiful," replied his +father, "Of course, my son, I do not wish or expect to decide this +matter for you; only to influence you, for your happiness. Will you +promise me this much--do not commit yourself until you have seen more +of Valeria and in some degree test her worth. How is it that a man of +such deep thought, hard study, and so earnest and devoted to his work, +should place his affections on one so very dissimilar? It is very +strange to me, particularly as in the same house is her cousin, Miss +Bland--just the woman for you. A well-cultivated, thoroughly-disciplined +mind, with great energy and industry. You know well, of charities her +name is always among the first; ready with time and money to help in +good works. Why could you not have loved her? Why did your heart +wander from the right?" + +"Oh, father! you ask why the heart wanders! I know too truly love +cannot be tutored; but will drag away the heart--often against our +better judgment, and wander with it where it will--sometimes dropping +on the bosom of a calmly gliding river; again amid the turbulent waves +of a dark and stormy sea. Heaven grant that this last may not be the +fate of mine. The true reason, however, that I became attached to Miss +Fairleigh I think is this: I was so accustomed to, so tired of, +dignified, sedate and 'well-disciplined' young ladies, who always put +on church behavior and talk only of church matters when the minister +is near, that when I met her she was so different such a bright, merry +child of nature, I was charmed! Yes, I may say, refreshed, rested. +After the many sad and trying duties of our calling, father, we need +some one like Vallie Fairleigh to call forth a reaction of the mind. +But you shall have the promise, I will not advance a step further +until I know her better." + +A few days after this conversation David Carlton was sitting in his +study, when his father entered, saying: + +"David, I have a letter from home, hastening my return. So I shall +have to cut my visit a little short. I would go away much happier, if +my mind was relieved about Miss Fairleigh. I wish I could think her +worthy of the position you would place her in. I have noticed you much +since our conversation on that subject, and I am sure you are much +attached to her. I have an idea to put her to a test, not only +concerning her better feelings, but to prove the amount of influence +you have over her. + +"Listen: This evening is appointed for the meeting to raise funds and +make arrangements relative to sending out a missionary to the ---- +Indians. There has (you tell me) been but little interest awakened +among your people on this subject. Now, if you can induce the young +folks to take hold of this, it will be all right. This is also the +evening of Monsieur Costello's grand masquerade and the opera of +'Maritana.' I called on Mrs. Fairleigh about an hour ago. The ladies +were discussing these amusements. Miss Bland is very anxious to see +that particular opera, and was trying to persuade Valeria to go with +her. Mrs. Fairleigh positively forbade the ball; so when I left the +arrangement was, Miss Bland, Mrs. Fairleigh and the gentlemen were +going to enjoy the music, and Valeria is to remain home; but I very +much fear this she will not do. Now, David, go and ask her to +accompany you--urge her; tell her how much good her influence might +exert, and so on. If she consents, I have not another word to say +about your loving, wooing and marrying her, if you can. Should she not +consent, then ask Miss Bland. I know how anxious she is to see +"Maritana." Now, try if she will resign this pleasure for the sake of +doing good. Of course, you must not let her know you have previously +asked her cousin. Will you do it? It can do no harm, and may he +productive of much good." + +"Yes, father, I will put her to the test. But I will not promise that +the issue shall decide my future course. I shall be grieved and +mortified if she does not consent, but not without hope. I know she is +good, and we will find it yet." + +An hour more found David Carlton awaiting in the drawing-room the +coming of Valeria. + +Fortune favored him thus far. + +"Miss Bland and Miss Fairleigh were out, but would be back soon. Miss +Valeria was in," answered the servant to his inquiry, "If the ladies +were home?" + +In a few moments she came in smiling brightly, and saying: + +"I am really glad to see you again, Mr. Carlton, for mamma and Julia +said I had quite horrified you with my nonsense the last evening you +were here. Indeed, you must excuse me, but I cannot possibly don +dignity and reserve. Jule can do enough of that for both, and I think +it is far better to laugh than be sighing." + +"Indeed, I have never seen anything to disapprove of. I could not +expect or wish to see the young and happy either affecting, or really +possessing, the gravity of maturer years. My absence has no connection +whatever with the events of that evening. I have been devoting my +spare time to my father. This is his last evening with me. I came +round to ask a favor of you. We are very anxious to get up some +interest for the mission to ----, and father thinks if the young folks +of the church would aid us, it would be all right. Will you go with +us?" answered David. A look of deep regret, the first he had ever +seen, was in the eyes of Valeria, when she answered: + +"You will have to excuse me, I have an engagement for the evening, I +am really sorry, I would like to oblige you." Then, breaking into a +merry laugh, she said: + +"Jule will go--ask her. She dotes on missions--both foreign and home, +and all sorts of charity meetings. She has money, too; I've spent +every cent of mine this month already, besides all I could borrow. +Yes, ask her; I know she will, and give, too. I should be sure to go +to sleep or get to plotting some sort of mischief against my nearest +neighbor. I could do you no good, Mr. Carlton." + +"Valeria! Excuse me, Miss Fairleigh--will you be serious and listen to +me one moment?" + +He urged, but in vain. Not even when his voice sank to low, soft tones +and, with pleading eyes, he whispered: "Go for my sake," would she +consent. + +"At least tell me where you are going?" he asked. + +"I am going to----. No, I dare not tell. Ma and Jule would not +approve, and even dear, good papa might censure, if he knew it. Here +they come! Julia, Mr. Carlton is waiting to see you." + +"Well, David, you have failed! Your countenance is very expressive." + +"Even so, sir--Miss Fairleigh not only declined, but I greatly fear +she is going to the ball against her parents' wishes. If this be so, I +must try to conquer this love. The girl who sets at naught the will of +her kind, loving parents--acting secretly against their wishes--would +not, I am sure, prove a good wife." + +"Well spoken, my son. How about Miss Bland?" + +"Of course she is going. We are to call for her." + +"A good girl--resigning pleasure to duty. A rare good girl." + +"Apparently, so, sir; but, indeed, I am impressed with the idea that +there is something hidden about her. She does not seem natural," +replied David. + +Father and son had just arrived at Mr. Fairleigh's when the door +opened to admit a middle-aged, poorly-clad woman. Showing them into +the drawing-room, the servant closed the door. Very soon after seating +themselves they heard the voice of Miss Bland in a very excited tone. + +"My brother! How dare you ask me of him?" + +"I dare for my child's sake. She is ill--perhaps dying." + +"What is that to him or me? I told you and her I would have nothing +more to do with either, since her name became so shamefully connected +with my brother's. Will you be kind enough to relieve me of your +presence?" + +"My daughter is as pure as you. Her child, and your brother's is +suffering from want. Will you pay me, at least, for our last work--the +dress you have on?" + +"How much?" was asked, in a sharp, quick voice. + +"Five dollars." + +"Outrageous! No, I will not pay that. Here are three dollars. Go, and +never let me hear of you again." + +"Julia Bland, I wish the world knew you as I do. You will grind to the +earth your sister-woman, and give liberally where it will be known and +said, 'How charitable--how good!' I say how hard-hearted--how +deceitful!" said the woman, in bitter tones. + +"Go!" came forth, in a voice quivering with rage. + +Soon the hall door told the departure of the unwelcome guest. + +Looks of amazement, beyond description, passed between the reverend +gentlemen. + +At length the younger one said: + +"She does not know of our arrival. I will go into the hall and touch +the bell." + +"Oh! excuse me, sir. I thought Miss Bland was in the drawing-room. I +will tell her now," said the servant. + +Could this gentle, dignified woman be the same whose harsh, hard tones +were still lingering in their ears? + +Impossible! thought the elder man. Surely he must be in a dreadful, +dreadful dream. Not so David; he clearly understood it all, and felt +truly thankful that the blundering servant had enabled him to get this +"peep behind the scenes." + +The meeting was over, and they were just leaving the church, when: + +"Please, sir, tell me where I can find the preacher or doctor--and +I've forgot which--maybe both. They frightened me so when they hurried +me off!" said a boy, running up to them. + +"Here, my lad--what is it?" + +"Mr. Preacher, please come with me. There is a young woman very +ill--maybe dying. They sent me for somebody, and I can't remember; but +please run, sir!" + +"I will go. Excuse me, Miss Bland; father will take charge of you." + +And he followed, with hasty steps, the running boy. + +"Here, sir--this is the house. Go in, sir, please!" + +"Now, my lad, run over to Dr. Lenord's office--he is in--and ask him +to come. So, one or the other of us will be the right one." + +David Carlton entered, treading noiselessly along the passage, until +he had reached a door slightly open. Glancing in to be sure he was +right, he beheld lying--apparently almost dying--a young woman. Beside +the bed, kneeling with upraised head and clasped hands, was a +strangely familiar form. Then came forth a sweet voice, pleading to +the throne of Mercy for the sufferer. He gazed spellbound for a +moment. Then slowly and softly he retraced his steps to the door. Then +he almost flew along the streets until he reached Mr. Fairleigh's, +just as his father and Miss Bland were ascending the steps. Seizing +the former very unceremoniously, he said: + +"Come, father, with me quickly--you are wanted." + +In a few moments more, before the boy had returned with the physician, +they stood again at the door of the sickroom. David whispered: + +"Look there! listen!" + +"Be still, Mary, dear! Do not worry. I shall not judge you wrongfully. +How dare I? We are all so sinful. That you are suffering and in need +is all the knowledge I want." + +"Oh, where is William? Why does he not come? Why not speak and +acknowledge his wife and child? Now that I am dying, he might! Oh, +where is he? Why will not God send him to me?" moaned the sick girl. + +"God is love, Mary. He does not willingly afflict or chastise us. Try +to say, 'Thy will be done!' + +"But, dear, do not be so desponding. I know you are very sick; but I +think it more your mind than bodily illness. Try to bear up. Pray God +to spare you for your baby's sake," softly said the comforter. + +"Father, you go in and see if you can help her. I will await you +outside," whispered David. + +A slight knock at the door aroused the kneeling girl, who approached +and said: + +"Come in, doctor! Why, Mr. Carlton--I was expecting the doctor. This +poor girl is very sick; she fainted a while ago. I was very much +alarmed and sent a boy for a physician. She is somewhat better now. +Come in; you may soothe her mind, and possibly do more good than the +medical man." + +"Miss Fairleigh? Is it possible I find you here? I thought you were at +the masquerade." + +"Heaven bless her, sir," said a woman, arising from a seat beside the +sufferer, whom Mr. Carlton recognized as the woman he had seen enter +Mr. Fairleigh's a few hours before. "But for her care, we should have +suffered beyond endurance. She has comforted mind and body. Yes, when +evil tongues whispered of shame! her pure heart did not fear, or +shrink from us. When employers and friends deserted and condemned, she +stayed and consoled." + +"Hush! She has fainted again. Oh! why does not the doctor come?" said +Valeria. + +"Thank Heaven! Here he is now." + +Mr. Carlton approached the physician (an old acquaintance), and +explained to him as well as he could the trouble. The kind-hearted +doctor raised the poor, thin hand, felt the feeble pulse, and, +turning, answered the anxious, inquiring looks bent on him: + +"It is only a swoon; yet she is very weak. However, I think we will +bring her round all right in a little while." + +"Indeed, she is an honest girl, doctor, although appearances are +against her now," said the mother. "Her husband left her before she +was taken ill, to remain a short time with his sick uncle. Mr. Bland +was fearful of offending his aged relative, and so kept his marriage +concealed. She had a few letters when he first left, but, for near two +months, not a word have we heard. I fear he is ill. She has grown +dreadfully depressed since the birth of her babe. The suspicion +resting on her is killing her." + +The suffering girl was showing signs of returning consciousness. Then +a quick step was heard in the entry. She started up and cried out: + +"Willie is come! Thank God!" and sank back, almost lifeless. + +William Bland, for truly it was so, rushed forward and dropped on his +knees beside the bed, saying: + +"How is this? Why have you not answered my letters? Doctor, save her!" + +Advancing, the doctor raised her head gently and gave her a little +wine, saying: + +"Speak to her, reassure her; that is all she needs now." + +"Listen, Mary love, dear wife, and mother!" he whispered, in +astonishment, as Valeria held before him the little sleeping babe, +while a flush of paternal pride passed over his fine face. "There is +no more need of silence; I am free and proud to claim you, darling. +Uncle knows all, and bids me bring you to him. He was very ill. I +nursed him and his life was spared. The fatigue, and more than all the +worry of mind about you, brought on a severe nervous fever. I have +been very ill. Julia knew it. Did you not hear? In my ravings I told +all. Uncle has changed much since his recovery. He is no longer +ambitious, except for my happiness, and is now waiting to welcome +you." + +The wonderful medicine had been administered, and already the happy +effects were apparent. + +With her hand clasped in her husband's she was slumbering peacefully, +while a smile of sweet content lingered on the pale face. + +The doctor soon bade adieu, saying: + +"I see I shall not be needed any longer. She will very soon be strong +again." + +"Miss Fairleigh, I am awaiting your pleasure. Are you to return to +your home to-night?" asked Mr. Carlton. + +"Oh, yes. Bridget promised to come for me, but I must get back before +mamma and Julia; yet I forget there is no further need of concealment: +I am so very glad! I will be over in the morning. Good-night." + +"God bless you, Vallie! you have been a ministering angel to my loved +ones. You can tell Julia I have returned and am with my wife. I fear +my sister has acted very wickedly in this matter. I have written many +times and received no answer. Some one, for whom they were not +intended, got those letters. Perhaps I judge her harshly. Good-night," +said William Bland. + +Vallie, accompanied by Mr. Carlton, was soon on her way home. They had +gone but a short distance when they were joined by David. + +"Why, Mr. Carlton! how strange to meet you, when I was just thinking +of you, and on the eve of asking your father to tell you I was not at +the ball this evening. I was so sorry I could not explain when you +asked me. Your father will tell you all, I know. You thought me very +wicked and willful," said Vallie. + +David clasped the little hand held out to greet him, and whispered: + +"With your permission I will come to-morrow, and tell you what I did +think and do still." + +Bidding her good-night at her father's door, David lingered a moment, +to catch the low answer to his repeated question, "Shall I come?" + +Fervently thanking God for the happy termination of the evening, he +hastened to overtake his father--and said: + +"Well, father?" + +"Well, David! Very well. Go ahead, David, win her, if you can! She is +a rare, good girl." + +"Which one, sir?" + +"Come, come! David, I am completely bewildered by this evening's +discoveries. Do not bear too hard on me, for falling into a common +error--mistaking the apparent for the real. This night has proved a +test far more thorough than I imagined it possibly could. You may +safely abide by the issue and never fear the stormy sea," answered his +father. + +A few months more and Vallie Fairleigh's merry voice and sweet smile +resounds through, and brightens the minister's home. + +David Carlton stands to-day among the best-loved and most popular of +the clergy. Attributable most likely to his "wife's influence" (his +father says). I well know she has soothed many an aching heart, +cheered the long, weary hours of the sickroom, won the young from the +path of evil, and now numberless prayers are ascending and begging +God's blessing on the "minister's wife." + + * * * * * + + + + +IN THE HOSPITAL. + +BY FRANCES HENSHAW BADEN. + + +In the autumn of 1862 my time was constantly employed in the various +hospitals of Washington. At this period of our struggle the Sanitary +Commission was in its infancy, and all attentions of the kind ladies +were joyfully received by surgeons and nurses, as well as by our +noble, suffering boys. Immediately after the wounded from the second +battle of Bull Run were assigned to the different wards in the various +hospitals, I was going my rounds in the "Douglas," and after bestowing +the wines, jellies, custards and books to my old friends, I began to +look up the new patients. + +"Sister," I said to the kind Sister of Mercy, whose sweet, patient and +motherly face was bending over a soldier to speak her words of +comfort, "are there any Massachusetts boys in the new arrivals?" + +"No, dear; I think not, in this ward." Then she bent lower to catch +the whisper from her patient, and he pointed to the card at the head +of his little bed. She looked, and answered again: "Oh, yes, here is +one: Paul Ashton, 16th Mass., Co. B." + +I approached the bed, and saw one of the noblest faces I had ever +beheld, but not that of a Northern boy, I thought; so proud and +dark--no, a true Southern face. + +"You from Massachusetts?" I exclaimed. + +A wan smile played around his pale lips for a moment. He saw my +surprise, and answered: + +"No, from Mississippi; but in that regiment," pointing again to the +little card. + +Here was a mystery, and one I could not solve just then. He was too +weak to converse, but I made up my mind to devote myself to Paul +Ashton from that time until he was convalescent, or, if God's will, +relieved from his sufferings. After sitting by his side until the +attendant came to dress his wounds, I bade him good-night, and +promised to see him in the morning. + +On my way out I met Dr. B. God bless him! for his kindness to our +boys. No woman ever was more gentle and patient. "Doctor," I +exclaimed, as he was hurrying by, "stop and tell me, how is Ashton +wounded? Is he very ill? Will he die?" + +"Ah, Mrs. H., three questions in one breath. Yes, he is very ill. +Three wounds in the right side and shoulder, which are draining his +life away. I fear he must die. Is he one of your boys? Do all you can +for him." + +"May I?" I replied. + +"Yes, my dear madam; and try to keep up his spirits. I give you leave. +Tell Sister L. He is a noble fellow--I am deeply interested in him." + +The next day found me much earlier than usual at the hospital. To my +great pleasure I found that Ashton had rested well, and was much +easier than any one expected he would be. He smiled and put out his +hand when I approached his bed, and motioned me to be seated. After +talking to him a few moments I found him looking at me very intently, +and soon he said: + +"Are you from the Bay State?" + +I replied: "Oh, no, I am a Southern woman. I am from Virginia." + +"I thought you did not look or speak like a Northern or Eastern lady. +Then, why are you interested in our boys? Are you with us in feeling? +Can you be a Union lady?" + +"Yes, my boy, I am with you hand and heart. I cannot fight, but I can +feed, comfort and cheer you. Yes, I am a Southern woman and a +slaveholder. Now, I see you open your eyes with wonder; but, believe +me, there are many like me, true, loyal woman in the South; but my +particular interest in our regiments is, my father is a native of +Boston; but I love all our brave boys just the same." + +A look of much interest was in his face, which I was so glad to see, +being so different from the total apathy of the day before. + +"You are the first lady from Virginia that I have met who was not very +bitter against us Yankees--it is really amusing to be called so, to a +Mississippi man. Do you not feel a sympathy for the South? Your +interest is with them. You against your State and I mine--we certainly +are kindred spirits," he smilingly said. "We think and feel alike. It +is not politics but religion my mother always taught me. Love God +first and best, then my country, and I have followed her precepts, at +a very great sacrifice, too. Sometimes in my dreams I see her looking +approvingly and blessing me." + +"Your mother, where is she?" + +He pointed up, and said: + +"Father, mother, both gone, I hope and trust to heaven. I am +alone--yes, yes, all alone now." + +I would not let him talk any more, and finding out from the attendant +what he most relished, I promised to see him the next day. + +I saw him almost every day for a fortnight. He grew no worse, but +very little, if any, better. On one occasion Dr. B. said: + +"I do not know what to make of Ashton. He ought to improve much +faster. My dear madam, set your woman's wits at work; perhaps we may +find a cure." + +"I have been thinking I would try to gain his confidence. I know he +has a hidden sorrow. I must, for his sake, probe the wound; but I +fancy it is in his heart." + +During my next visit I said: + +"I wish you would tell me something of your life; how you came to +enter the army; and, indeed, all you will of your Southern home." + +His face flushed, and he replied: + +"No, I cannot. Why should you want to know----" + +Then he stopped, hesitated and said: + +"I beg your pardon. You have been so kind to me; it is due I should +comply; but not now; to-morrow; I must have time to consider and +compose my mind. To-morrow, please God, if I am living, I will tell +you; and you will see that I have a severer wound than good Dr. B. +knows of--one he cannot use his skillful hand upon." + +"Well, thank you--I would rather wait until to-morrow. I am anxious to +get home early this afternoon." + +On reaching his cot the next day, I saw Ashton was calm, but very +pale. I said: + +"Do not exert yourself this morning. I can wait." + +"No; sit nearer and I will tell you all." + +I give it to you, dear reader, as he gave it to me: + +"I told you I was by birth a Mississippian. My mother was from +Boston, the daughter of a wealthy merchant, who, failing in his +business, soon fell in ill health and died, leaving his wife and two +daughters almost entirely destitute. Mother, the youngest, was always +very fragile, and, having been reared in luxury, was poorly calculated +for a life of trial and poverty. However, she was urged by a wealthy +Southern planter to return with him to his home, and take the position +of governess to his little daughters, her friends all approving of +this offer, knowing that a Southern climate would improve her health; +so she became the inmate of Colonel Ashton's family, and soon was +beloved by the father and mother, as well as her pupils. I have heard +that neither the colonel nor his wife could bear her out of their +sight. She had been with them nearly a year, when the young son and +heir, Edgar Ashton, returned from his college. He soon followed the +rest, and was deeply in love with the governess. My mother was very +beautiful, possessing so much gentleness, with such a merry +disposition, that I have heard them say that grandfather used to call +her his Sunshine. The negroes said that she had a charm to make all +she looked upon love her. But when the son, their pride, declared his +intention of making May Everett his wife, it was met with a decided +objection by both parents. Impossible! marry a Northern teacher; he, +the son of Colonel Ashton--the heir of Ashton manor! preposterous! My +mother then prepared to bid adieu to them and return to her home, +never for a moment listening to the repeated petitions of her lover to +marry him. She would not go into a family where she was not welcome. +Her high-toned principles won for her additional love and respect. And +when the hour of parting came, the old colonel opened his arms, and +drew her to his heart, and exclaimed: + +"'Wife, we cannot give her up. Welcome your daughter.' + +"My mother, however, went home; but with the understanding that she +would return in a few weeks--as the wife of their son. + +"In two months she was again with them; and never a happier +household! In the second year of their marriage I was sent to them. My +grandparents made almost an idol of me, and from grandfather I used to +hear of his father's adventures in the Revolution. He inspired me with +a devotion to his country which was fostered by my mother. When I was +sixteen, my father was thrown from his horse and brought home to us +insensible, and lived with us but a few hours. My mother's health, +naturally very delicate, sank under this great affliction. She lived +only a year afterward, and I was left to comfort my grandparents, now +quite advanced in years. They would not hear of my going away again to +school, and engaged a private tutor--a young gentleman, a graduate of +Yale. I had been under Mr. Huntington's instructions four years when +the country began to be convulsed with the whispers of secession--one +State after another passing that miserable ordinance--my grandfather +said: + +"'Paul, my boy, if Mississippi goes out, I shall go, too--not only out +of the Union, but out of this world of sorrow and trouble. I cannot +live. I have felt my tie to earth loosening very fast since your +grandmother left me, and I feel I cannot live any longer if my State +shall be classed with traitors.' + +"I have failed to tell you grandmother died in my eighteenth year. Mr. +Huntington, feeling sure of what was coming, left us for his home in +Medford, never for one moment expressing to us any views on the +subject now engrossing all minds; and, when parting with him, I +whispered, 'If it comes, I am for my country! Look for me North within +a few weeks.' It did come, as you know; and when one of my aunts--now +both married--ran laughingly in, with a blue cockade pinned on her +shoulders, exclaiming: + +"'Father, we are out!' + +"She stopped in horror, and looked upon the calm, cold face. But the +spirit had fled. We know not if he had heard or not, but I trust he +had passed to perfect peace before his heart had been so sorely tried. + +Next to our plantation was the estate of one of the oldest, +wealthiest, and proudest families of the State. The daughter and I had +grown up together, and I loved her more than all and everything else +on earth. Her brother and I were very intimate--both having no +brother, we were everything to each other. He had mounted the Palmetto +badge, and was all for war. My mind was no longer wavering, since my +grandfather's death. I was going up North, and, after a short visit to +my mother's sister--the wife of a very influential and patriotic man +in Boston--I would offer myself to my government. Now, you will know +my sorrow. + +"I had expected to meet opposition, entreaties, reproaches, and +everything of that sort. So, preparing myself as well as I could, I +rode over to bid my idol good-by. + +"I met Harry first, and telling him I was going North, to leave +fortune, friends and everything for my country. + +"'What, Paul, desert your State in her hour of need? Never! You, a +Southern man? Your interests, your honor, are with us.' + +"Much passed between us; when he, laughingly, said: + +"'Go in and see sister; she will talk you out of this whim.' + +"I cannot tell you how she first coaxed, then argued, then chided me +with not loving her, and then came--oh, such contempt! You have no +idea of the trial to me. She talked as only a Southern girl talks--so +proud, so unyielding. And when I said: + +"'Let us part at least friends. Say God bless me, for the sake of the +past!' + +"'No,' she said, 'no friend. With a traitor to his State, or a +coward--no, I will never say God bless you! and never do you take my +name on your lips from this day. I would die of shame to have it known +that I was ever loved by an Arnold! Go! leave me; and if you raise +your arm against the South, I hope you may not live to feel the shame +which will follow you.' + +"I met Harry again on the lawn, and he exclaimed: + +"'Good-by, Paul. Give us your hand. You are honest, and will sacrifice +everything, I see; but you are all wrong. God bless you! + +"And he threw his arms round me, and so I left them. + +"I cannot tell you how I suffered. It seems as if I have lived a +century since then. Did I not know the unbounded pride of a Southern +girl, I should doubt her ever loving me. I have never mentioned her +name since that day, and never shall. Now, my friend, you see I have +little to live for. Soon after my arrival in Boston the Sixteenth was +forming. I enlisted, to the horror of my aunt, as a private. My friend +would have procured me a commission, but I preferred to go in the +ranks and work my way up if I lived, and here is my commission, +received after you left yesterday. I brought my colonel off the field, +and was wounded when I went to get him. It is a first lieutenant's; +but I fear I shall never wear my straps." + +"Yes, you will. You are getting better slowly, but surely; and, my +friend, you must cheer up--believe 'He doeth all things well'--have +faith--live for your country. I feel that all will be well with you +yet. 'Hope on, hope ever.'" + +I went and saw Dr. B.; told him it was as I had thought. + +I gave him an idea of the trouble and left. + +I had become so much interested in Ashton that I had almost ceased my +visits to the other hospitals, except an occasional one to the "Armory +Square," where I had a few friends. I thought I would go over and make +a visit there this afternoon. + +I went into ward C, and, after seeing how well my boys were getting +on, I inquired after the lady nurse, Mrs. A., a widow lady, to whom I +had become much attached for her devotion to the soldiers. + +"She has gone home to recruit her health; has been away ten days; she +left the day after you were here last," replied one of the boys. "But +we have, just think, in her place a lady from the South--Miss or Mrs., +indeed I do not know which, for I have never heard her spoken of other +than Emma Mason. But here she comes." + +I had time to look at her for several moments before she came to the +patient I was sitting by. She might be seventeen or twenty-seven, I +could not tell. She was dressed in the deepest black--her hair drawn +tightly back from her face, and almost entirely covered by a black +net. Her complexion was a clear olive, but so very pale. Every feature +was very beautiful, but her greatest attraction was her large, dark +blue eyes, shaded by long black lashes. She came up smiling sweetly on +the wounded boy, and said: + +"You are looking quite bright, Willie; you have a friend, I see, with +you." + +I was then introduced to Emma Mason. When she smiled she looked very +young. I thought her as beautiful a girl as I had ever seen; but in a +few seconds the smile passed off, and there came a look of sorrow--a +yearning, eager gaze--which made her look very much older. I went +round with her to visit the different patients, telling her of my +great interest in the soldiers, and trying to win her confidence. I +was very anxious to know something of her history, but I could gain +nothing; and, giving it up in despair, I bade her good-evening, and +was leaving the ward when she called me and said: + +"Will you be kind enough to notice among the soldiers you may meet +from Boston, and if you find this name let me know immediately?" + +I took the card and read, "Paul Ashton, 16th Mass. Vol." I started, +and was about telling her where he was, when I was stopped by seeing +the deathly pallor of her face. + +She said, scarcely above a whisper: + +"Is he living?" + +I said I was only about to tell her I felt sure I could hear of him, +as I knew many of that regiment. I felt that I must not tell her then. +I must find out more of her first. + +She looked disappointed, and said: + +"I heard that regiment was in the last battle. Have you seen any since +that time? I am deeply interested in that soldier; he was my only +brother's most intimate friend." + +I told her I should go the next day, probably, to the "Douglas," and +if I had any tidings I would let her know. And so I left her, anxious +to be alone, to think over and plan about this new development in +Ashton's history. Who was she? Could she be his lost love? Impossible! +This nurse in a Union hospital! No, never! She must be down in her +Southern home. What should I do? Go tell Ashton? No, that would not do +yet. So I worried about it, and at last I decided I would sleep on it, +and my mind would be clearer for action in the morning. + +I could not divert my mind from the idea that it must be the girl +whose name I had never heard. + +Next morning my mind was made up, I went over to see Ashton; found +him in poorer spirits than ever. I sat down and tried to cheer him up. +He said: + +"I feel more miserable this morning than ever in my life before. I +have a furlough for thirty days, but I do not care to take it. I am as +well here as anywhere." + +I said: "I have often found that the darkest hours are many times +followed by the brightest. Cheer up. I feel as if you would have some +comfort before long, and see! Why, here you have a bouquet with so +many 'heart's-eases' in it. Heaven grant it may be a token of coming +ease and happiness. Who gave these to you? It is rarely we see them at +this season." + +"Sister L. gave them to me; they came from the greenhouse." + +I told him I should see him again that afternoon, and taking my leave, +went over to see the nurse at the armory. She came quickly forward to +see me, and said: + +"Have you any news----" + +"I have heard of him; he was in the battle and very severely wounded, +but living when my friend last heard of him." + +"When was that? Where is he?" she exclaimed, hurriedly. "You know +more, I can see; please tell me." + +I answered her: + +"I will tell you all, but I must beg of you a little confidence in +return. I saw him myself, and helped to nurse him--was very much +interested in him; he was terribly ill and is now very, very weak--his +recovery doubtful. He has told me much of his past life. Now, will you +not tell me what he is to you, for I see you are deeply moved?" + +"Did he tell you anything of the girl who drove him off without a +kind word--heaping upon him reproaches and wounding his noble heart +to the core? If he did, it was I. Oh, how I have suffered since! Even +when I accused him of cowardice and treachery, in my heart I was proud +of him. Oh! tell me where he is, that I may go to him. I have been +looking for him every moment since the battle. Take me, please?" + +"He is at the 'Douglas,' but very sick; I saw him not two hours ago. I +fear any sudden shock, even of joy. You are never absent from his +mind: he has never mentioned your name, but he has told me much. Now, +tell me, will you not, how it is you are here? And then we most devise +a plan to take you to him without too great a shock." + +She said: + +"These black robes are for my brother. He bade me do what I could for +the suffering and wounded on both sides, and find Paul. I will give +you a letter I received written by him a few days previous to his +death. After you have read it you will then understand better why I am +here." + +And leaving the ward for a few moments she returned and handed me the +letter. The writing plainly told that the writer was very weak. I give +it to you, my dear reader, every word; I could not do justice by +relating in my own style: + + SISTER--I am wounded, and must die. I have felt it for several + days. The doctor and the kind boys try to cheer me up, but I've + been growing weaker daily. The suffering in my breast is + terrible. I had a Minnie ball pass through my left lung. I have + been very much frightened about dying, and wanted to live; but + last night I had a dream which has produced a great change. Now I + feel sure I shall die, and am content. I am with the Union boys; + they are very kind. The one next me fanned me and rubbed my side + until I fell asleep last night, and slept better than I have + since I've been wounded. Now, darling sister, here is my dream: I + thought I had been fighting, and having been wounded, was carried + off the field and was laid under a large tree; after being there + a little while I felt some one clasp my hand; looking up, I found + Paul, He also had been wounded. + + He handed me his canteen, and while drinking I seemed to get + quite easy. There seemed to be a great mist all over us; I could + see nothing for a little while. Again I heard my name called, and + looking up, found the mist had cleared away, and our + great-grandfather (whom I knew well, from the old portrait, which + we used to be so proud of, father telling us he was one of the + signers of the "Declaration") was standing before me, but he did + not look smiling like the face of the picture; but, oh! so sad + and stern. In his hand he had a beautiful wreath of ivy, which + he, stooping, placed on the brow of Paul, saying, "Live, + boy--your country wants you;" and stretching forth his hand, he + drew me to a stand near him on which stood our old family Bible, + ink and pen. He opened to the births, and putting his finger on + my name, he raised the pen and marked a heavy black line over the + H, and was proceeding, when his hand was caught by our old nurse, + Mammy Chloe, who has been dead years, you know, who pointed over + toward the west of us, and there stood a large shining cross with + these words over it, "Unless ye forgive men their trespasses, how + can your Heavenly Father forgive you?" And coming up to me, put + forth her hand and beckoned me to follow her. Then the old + gentleman spoke and said, "Your blood will blot out your + disgrace;" and turning the leaf, he pointed to the "Deaths," and + I read, "On the 28th of September, 1862, Harry Clay Mason, aged + 21;" and then I woke up. This is the 20th; I think I shall live + until that day. Now I bid you go carry mother to somewhere North, + to Paul's friends; they will be kind to her and try to comfort + her, and go you and devote yourself to the suffering soldiers, + and find Paul, if possible; he will live, I know; tell him how I + loved him, yet, and honored him, although I thought him wrong. + Tell him good-by. And to mother, try to soften this blow as much + as possible. Tell her I am happy now. I think God will pardon me + for my sins, for His Son's sake. There is a boy from my regiment + expecting to be parolled, and he has promised to deliver this to + you. Good-by. God bless you, darling. Lovingly, + + HARRY. + Fairfax, Va. + +I was much affected. After a few moments I said: "How long did he +live?" + +"He lived, seemingly growing much better, until the afternoon of the +twenty-eighth. He was then taken with hemorrhage and so passed away." +And pushing her hair back from her temples, she said: + +"These came the night I got that letter." And I saw the numberless +white hairs gleaming amid her raven locks. I said: + +"Come, we will go to him. I think you had better write a little note +to him; you know best what to say, but do not tell him you are here +just yet, but something to set his heart at peace; and I will tell him +it was given me by a Southerner I found in the hospital." + +"Yes," she said; "you are very thoughtful, that is just the thing." + +And she went into the ante-room, and soon came out, and giving me the +note, said: + +"You know all; read it." + +And I read: "Paul, forgive and love me again. I shall try to come to +you soon." + +So we proceeded to the "Douglas," and I went in, found Dr. B., told +him and asked if we might venture in. He thought better to break it +gently at first, and promising to stay near in case of being needed, +laughingly said to Miss Mason: + +"Now, if I was a doctor of divinity, I should be wishing to be sent +for." + +Leaving her in his charge, I went in. + +"Back so soon?" Ashton said. "How bright and cheerful you look!" + +I sat down and said, "Yes, I have some pleasant news; I have a letter +for you; I met with a Southerner who knew a friend of yours, who gave +me this for you. It may be from your aunt, and you may hear from your +lady love, possibly." + +He caught the letter, tore off the envelope, and read. I was +frightened--he never spoke a word or moved. Then, "Thank God!" burst +forth in heart-felt tones. + +I saw he was all right. I said: + +"You must now commence to think of her coming and being with you, for +it is some time since that person left the South, and you may look for +her any time. I was told that the family were intimate with Mr. Davis, +and they were to have a 'pass' North to find 'the son.' I then told +him I had wanted to prepare him, for she was really in Washington, and +I had met her--she had given me the note for him. He seemed to divine +all, and said: + +"Bring her to me. I am strong and well now." + +I sent the attendant to Dr. B.'s room, and in a few moments she was +beside him. + +"Forgiven!" she murmured; and, bending, pressed her lips to his pale +forehead, and taking his hand, she sat on the cot beside him. There +was little said, but + + "Eyes looked love to eyes that spake again." + +So they remained until the sun went down and it was getting quite +dark, when Dr. B. came in and said: + +"Ah, Ashton, you have a more skillful physician than I. She has done +more for you in five minutes than I have for as many weeks, I guess +you will take that furlough and commission now, Lieutenant Ashton." + +He took Dr. B.'s hand, and said: + +"Under God, doctor, by your skillful hand and great kindness, with the +attentions of the good friends here, I have been kept alive for this +day." + +Emma Mason bade him good-night, saying she must go over to her boys +again, and get her discharge from the surgeon in charge. + +In three days Ashton bade adieu to his friends in the "Douglas," and +with Miss Mason, Dr. B. and myself, he got into the carriage waiting, +directing the driver to stop at the residence of the Rev. Dr. Smith. +There they were united, and received our heart-felt congratulations, +and proceeded to the cars, which soon bore them to their friends +North. + +A few days ago a servant came to my room, bringing a card. + +I read: "Paul Ashton and wife." + +I almost flew down to them. They were on their way South to settle up +their property and provide for the old servants who remained there. +Paul had returned to the army and remained until the close of the war, +having reached the rank of colonel. He is looking very well. He has +been offered a commission in the regular service, but his wife says +his country had him when he was needed, but she must have him now. +They are taking with them the remains of poor Harry, to place beside +his father in their Southern home. His mother is now quite resigned, +and says she is only waiting God's will to meet her friends above. + + * * * * * + + + + +EARNEST AND TRUE. + +BY FRANCES HENSHAW BADEN. + + But still our place is kept and it will not wait; + Ready for us to fill it soon or late, + No star is ever lost we once have seen, + We always MAY be, what we MIGHT have been. + + +"You have never loved me, Constance, or you could not thus calmly bid +me go, without one word of hope for the future. Only say that I may +some day call you mine, and I will win a name that you will not blush +to bear." + +"Would to Heaven I could, Ernest; but I can see no hope of my father's +relenting. You heard how determined he was never to consent to my +union with any one save Gerald. You say I have never loved you! +Believing this, it will not be so hard for you to leave me. It is +useless prolonging this interview! Every moment brings an increase of +agony, making it harder to part. Bid me good-by, say God bless me, and +go quickly, if you have any mercy for me." + +"Listen just for a moment more! Oh, my darling, forgive my hasty +word; but, Constance, if your love was as devoted and single as mine +you would not thus resign one who loves you only of all the world; no +one shares my heart with you. I know you love me, but not as I would +be loved, or you would leave father and mother and cling to me. What +right has your father, or any other father, to blast his child's +happiness? Heed him not, love, but come with me. I will never let you +feel a single regret. I will love you more than all their love +combined. Nay, do not turn aside--you must hear me. Think what you are +doing! wrecking my happiness, casting me forth, without hope, to drag +out a miserable, useless existence. I may be cursed with long life. +Constance, darling, come with me! With your parents it will only be a +short grief--disappointed ambition--and, at the most, only the +thwarting of their proud hopes. They will soon get over it; but even +if they should not, in all human probability they have not the length +of days to suffer that we have. Bid me hope!" + +"Ernest, Heaven only knows what a severe trial this is to me. Yet your +words only strengthen me in my duty. It is true, as you say, my +parents are old. Can I grieve and wring their careworn hearts? No, no! +What recompense can a child make her parents for all their unselfish +love, and constant watching over, and providing for, from the first +feeble baby days, to the time when they could, if willing, return all +this, by simple duty; obedience to their will. Think, Ernest, how, in +my days of illness, my mother watched over and soothed me. The long, +sleepless nights spent over my cradle--praying God to spare her +child--for what? to prove an ungrateful one! Oh, no! I could look for +no blessing on our union if I should be deaf to the pleading of my +parents, and heedless of God's own command. + +"Perhaps some time hence they may think differently. Then, if you +have not sought and won another, we may be happy. One thing you may +rest assured of, I shall never wed Gerald Moreton, or any other. I +obeyed my father in resigning you, but cannot perjure myself by taking +the marriage vows, even at their command. Do not leave me in anger, +Ernest. Let your last look be of kindness and forgiveness for the +sorrow I cause you. Now, a long look into your eyes, to engrave them +forever on my heart. Good-by--God bless you, Ernest." + +She held out her arms, and was clasped in a long, last embrace. +Breaking away, she was soon lost to view among the deep shadows of the +garden. + +"And this is the end! This is woman's love! Mere filial duty, I should +say. Well, well, a final adieu to all thought of love. In future I +devote myself to ambition, wedded only to my profession, in hope that +in this I shall not meet with another such reward." + +Constance Lyle was the only child of wealthy parents. Ever since her +infancy her father had cherished the hope of uniting her with his +ward, Gerald Moreton, the son of a very dear friend. Gerald was left +an orphan before he had reached his tenth year. When Mr. Moreton, on +his deathbed, placed his son under the care of his old friend, he +intimated his desire that some time in the future, the little +Constance (scarcely then four years old) should bear the name of +Moreton. To this Mr. Lyle readily agreed. The little Gerald was truly +a noble boy, and he was much attached to him, years before having lost +a son of the same age; this child of his dearest friend had, in some +degree, served to fill the aching void. Again, Gerald's prospects were +very brilliant; but, to do Mr. Lyle justice, more than all this was +the desire to please his friend, to make some amends for the past. In +years gone by these two men had been rivals for the love of +Constance's mother. + +Moreton was a high-minded, noble fellow, and when he became sure that +young Lyle was the favored one, not a thought of ill-feeling entered +his heart against his friend; but going to him, with his usual candor +and generosity, he said: + +"I shall go away for a while. It will be rather too much for me to +bear witnessing your happiness, just yet. I shall get over it in time, +though. Heaven bless you, dear friend, and grant you happiness and +prosperity. No one will pray for your welfare more sincerely than +myself. Bid her good-by for me. After a while I'll be back, to stand +god-father to some of your little ones, perhaps." + +He remained away three years; and then returned home, bringing with +him a fair, fragile little creature, who remained with him scarce two +years; leaving the little Gerald to comfort and console the bereaved +man, and be a loving reminder of the gentle little dove, who had loved +him so dearly, and then winged her flight above, to watch over and +pray for the coming of her loved ones. + +So it was that Mr. Lyle would look with no favor, or even patience, on +any suitor. Even when Constance herself pleaded for Ernest Ellwood, +telling him she could never love Gerald other than as a brother; and +if he would not give her to the one she loved, that she would remain +with them, but would never wed where she could not love. + +Still he remained firm in his determination to give her to his +friend's son or no one. + +Years passed by--but she continued as firm and determined in her +resolve as her father in his. + +Gerald, like his father, was a noble fellow. He loved Constance, but +when he found his love was a source of grief to her, he began to set +himself to work to devise means of rendering her path in life rather +more pleasant. She did not murmur at her self-sacrifice; this she +considered her duty; but the constant and continual entreaties for the +marriage wore upon her, and made her life almost miserable. + +Gerald told Mr. Lyle he must beg to resign all pretensions to +Constance; that upon examining his heart, he found out that it was as +a sister he loved her, and was not willing to render her unhappy by +making her his wife. If his father were living he would not wish it. +That he thought a promise, made to the dead, had much better be +broken, than kept by making the living miserable. + +So, to carry out his views, he left home for a summer trip. After +being absent three months, he wrote to Constance that he had decided +to remain a while longer; and at the end of another month came a +letter to Mr. Lyle, saying that he was about to be married--desiring +certain business arrangements to be made--and ending by the remark, +that he knew this marriage would not meet with the cordial approval of +his kind guardian, and for this he was truly sorry; but was more than +compensated for this by the knowledge that he had the best wishes of +his dear sister, Constance, and begged Mr. Lyle to try and render her +happy, in return for her unhappiness during the last ten years. + +This was a dreadful blow to Mr. Lyle, and he declared that if Ernest +Ellwood had not crossed their path that his dearest hopes would not +have been thwarted. Not for a moment did he relent. + +Constance had heard nothing from Ernest since she parted from him, +except once, about five years after. She picked up a Western paper, +and saw his name mentioned as one of the rising men of ---- State--an +extract from a political speech made by him--and finally the +prediction of a brilliant career for this young man, whose talents and +eloquence were placing him before the people, who, even now, in so +young a man, recognized a master-spirit; and in all probability very +shortly he would speak for his adopted State in the halls of the +national Capitol. + +This slip was cut out and treasured by her--and once when her father +was grumbling and predicting bad luck to his evil genius, as he called +him, she brought forth and displayed, with a grateful heart, this +notice to prove she had not loved unworthily. + +Her father listened with interest to the extract from the speech and +the comments relative to the speaker. He had been considerable of a +politician, and as Ernest was of the same party as himself, he felt +really glad of his brilliant prospects. + +"In all probability he is married long ago, and has almost, if not +quite, forgotten you, Constance. At any rate, you see your sending him +off did no hurt. Men are sensible; they don't die of love. Something +more formidable, in the way of disease, must attack to carry them off, +or affect their minds, either. Yes, yes, child, be sure he has +transferred his affections long ago," remarked the father. + +"I cannot tell, father. Perhaps it is so; you can judge of man's +constancy better than I. If I judged him, it would be by my own heart, +then I should be sure he is not married. I think that when alone, and +freed from the care and toil of business, or, at rest from his +studies, that his mind wanders back to the girl of his love. No! no! +he has not forgotten me." + +One after another of the joyous new years rushed into the world, +passing on to maturity, growing older, and finally passing out, +leaving the gentle, submissive girl, as they had found her, devoting +herself to her father. + +Now disease had settled on Mr. Lyle. For years he had been an invalid, +nervous, fretful and impatient. No one but Constance could suit him. +Not even his wife. Her gentle hand, only, could soothe his suffering. +Her soft, loving tones alone would quiet his paroxysm of nervousness. + +Time passed on, and Death entered the home of Constance, not to +disturb the long-suffering father, but taking the apparently healthy +mother. Swiftly, quietly, and without suffering, she passed from her +slumbers to the home of her Maker. + +This was a terrible trial for the poor girl. She almost sank under it; +but in a little while she rose above her own sorrows. Bowing with +submission to the will of God, she now felt why it was her young hopes +had been blasted. Before, all was dark; now, she saw plainly. She +alone was left to cheer and solace the stricken father. No longer a +single regret lingered in her heart. All was well. A holy calm broke +over her, and she became almost happy, blessed with an approving +conscience. + +Suffering at last softened the stern nature of Mr. Lyle, and opened +his eyes to the value of his child. He knew her devotion, her patient, +untiring attendance on him, and he felt what a blessed boon she had +been to him, and how illy he had merited so much loving kindness! + +On one occasion he said: + +"My daughter, I do not deserve such a blessing as you are to me. I +have been very harsh and relentless, and caused you much sorrow; would +that I could call back the past, and act differently. Heaven only +knows how grieved I am for my mistaken views and actions." + +Going up, and putting her arms around him, she replied: + +"Do not worry about the past, father dear, nor about your daughter. +Believe me, I am happy with you; and have no regrets. I would not be +absent from you during your suffering, even to be with him." + +"Where is Ernest? Do you love him still?" he asked. + +"I only know (through the papers) that he has been elected to +Congress. About my still loving him, depends entirely on whether I +have the right to do so; he may have given that to another," she +replied, and called to her beautiful lips a sweet smile, to try to +convince him, more than her words would, that she was content, +whate'er her lot should be. + +It is a few weeks after the meeting of Congress. All Washington is on +the _qui vive_ about the passage of the ---- Bill, and the appeal to be +made in its favor by the new member from ----. + +Constance Lyle stands before her mirror. More than usual care has she +bestowed on her toilet. + +We will play eavesdropper, dear reader, just for once, and peep over +her shoulder, to view the changes time has made. No longer the fresh, +brilliant beauty of her youthful days. Constant confinement in the +sickroom, care, and anxiety have faded the roses that used to bloom on +her cheeks; but to us she is more charming, this pale beauty, with her +gentle dignity, and sweet, patient look, than the bright, merry girl +of years ago. + +There is something about her which makes us think we would like ever +to be near her, side by side, to pass on life's pathway, feeling sure +her beauty would never wane, but wax purer and brighter as she neared +her journey's end. Listen! She says: + +"How strange my birthday should be the one for his speech! This day I +shall see him for the first time for fifteen years. Yes, I am +thirty-three to-day, and this is the anniversary of our parting!" + +Leaving her room she is soon by her father's side. + +"I'll have to go early, father, dear. It will be very crowded, and +Gerald is waiting. His wife is going to stay with you during my +absence." + +"How well you look, my daughter! Why, really, you are getting young +again!" + +"This is my birthday, father. I am a maiden of no particular age to +the public, but I whisper in your ear privately," she joyously said; +and, suiting the action to the word, bent down, whispered, kissed him, +and was gone. + +"How time flies! But she is still very beautiful. Heaven grant my +prayers may be answered. She deserves to be happy; and when I am gone +she will be very lonely, and then feel keenly my harsh treatment," he +murmured. + +Wearily passed the hours until he heard her light step on the stairs. +She came in. He thought there seemed a shadow on her face, but she +came forward, and said, pleasantly: + +"Well, father, you are likely to keep your daughter. I heard Ernest. I +had not expected too much; he was grandly eloquent. He has altered in +his looks; he seems much older, and is quite gray; mental work and +hard study, he says." + +"Then you saw him, and spoke to him! What do you mean by saying I +shall keep you? Is he mar----" + +"Yes," she replied, before he had finished his question. "He +introduced me to his daughter, a little miss of about twelve; so you +were right when you said that men were too sensible to suffer for or +from love. He must have married in two years after he left us. Gerald +left little Constance and me in the library, and went and brought him +to see us. We were with him only a very short time, when he was sent +for. He excused himself, and bade us good-day. Now, father, I will +remove my wrappings, and order dinner." + +Day after day passed on, and Constance had schooled herself to think +of Ernest only as a happy husband and father. She did not blame him +for taking a companion. He was away from all kindred and friends, and +she had given him no hope to induce him to wait through all these +years for her. + +One day, just a week after their meeting at Congress, she was sitting +reading to her father, when a servant entered, and handed a card. She +read, Ernest Ellwood! + +Paler for a few moments, and tightly pressed were the sweet lips. She +did not rise from her seat, until she had communed with her heart. +Now, she thought, I must call up all my fortitude and self-control, +and prove to Ernest, to my father, and, more than all, to myself, that +my heart is not troubled! + +"Father," she said, "Ernest is below. He is waiting, probably, to +inquire after you. I told him you had long been an invalid. Will you +see him?" + +"I would rather not, darling, unless you wish it. Go down a while, and +if he must come up, let me know first." + +Slowly she descended the steps, passed through the long hall, and +entered the drawing-room, advancing with quiet dignity to welcome the +distinguished representative. + +He listened a moment to her words, so calm and cold; then, clasping +her in his arms, he drew her down beside him, and said: + +"Oh, my darling! thank Heaven, I find you still Constance Lyle!" + +She tried to draw herself away from his side, but his arms held her +tightly, and his hand clasped hers. His eyes were gazing so earnestly +and lovingly in hers, as in by-gone days. She tried to speak, but he +said: + +"Nay, my beautiful love, you must not move or speak until you have +heard me through, and then I shall await your verdict. I know you +think it so strange that I have not been to you before. I have been +the victim of a miserable mistake. The day I entered this city I +walked past here to catch a glimpse of you, perhaps. As I neared the +door, I beheld seated on the steps that pretty little girl that I +afterward saw with you. I stopped, spoke to her, and asked her name. +Constance, she told me, and her father's, Gerald. Oh, my love, the +long years of suspense were ended to me then! I cannot tell you how +dark the world seemed to me then. I struggled on, however, with my +sorrows. Then I met you. Your being with Gerald and having the little +one with you only too truly proved that my conjecture was right. I saw +you, as I believed, the happy wife of Gerald, and knew no difference +until this morning. When I met him then, he stopped and urged me to +come and see him. I asked after his wife, and remarked that time had +changed her but very little, when, to my amazement, he said he did not +know I had ever met Mrs. Moreton. Then came the explanation. I parted +with the noble fellow only a few moments ago, and here I am now. Tell +me, love, that all my waiting--never wandering from my love for you +for an hour, has not been in vain. Speak, love!" + +"Ernest Ellwood, what mean you by speaking to me thus? Allow me to +rise. Your mind is certainly very much affected. Nothing but insanity +can excuse this language to me. I will order the carriage to convey +you home to your wife and daughter." + +"My wife--oh, yes, now I know. Gerald told me. We have all been very +busy blundering. My darling, I have no wife or daughter. Louise is +only mine by adoption. Her father was my dearest friend. This little +one was placed in my arms, an orphan, when only three years old--and +she knew no parent but myself. Can I go to your father, love?" + +She no longer tried to release herself from his arms. Lower and lower +drooped the beautiful head until it was pillowed on his breast. He +felt her heart throbbing against his own, and almost bursting with its +fulness of joy. He was answered--rewarded for all the years of +waiting. + +At length she raised her head. In her eyes he saw all the love of +years beaming there. + +"At last, my Ernest," she said. "I must go to father first and prepare +him to see you." + +Springing lightly up the stairs, she entered the room and stood beside +her father's armchair. + +He saw her beaming look, and said: + +"What is it, Constance? What has brought this great joy to you? You +look so happy." + +"Father, we have all been under a great mistake. Ernest has never been +married. That was his adopted daughter. He is waiting to see you; may +I bring him up?" + +"Yes, yes. Thank God! my prayers are answered." + +In a few moments she stands before him, with her hand clasped in +Ernest's. + +"Here I am again, Mr. Lyle, as in years gone by, pleading for your +blessing on our love. May I have her now, after all these years of +waiting?" + +"Ernest Moreton, I am profoundly thankful to Heaven for sparing me to +see this day. Welcome back to your home and old friends, and welcome +to the hand of my daughter. Take her; she has been a loving, patient, +dutiful child. She has brightened and cheered my path for a long, +weary time, and now I resign this blessing to you, and beg your +forgiveness for these long years, lost to both, which might have been +passed happily together." + +"Not resign, but only share with me, this blessing; she shall never +leave you, sir," replied Ernest. + +"Father, do not speak of years lost; they have not been. Ernest would +not have gone away, and devoted himself to study, if we had been +united then; just think then what his adopted State would have lost! +and I have been cheering you--think what you would have lost without +your little Constance! Nay, there is nothing lost; all is gain, and +simply by keeping God's command, 'Honor thy father and thy mother.'" + +"Let me come in to rejoice with you all, and make my speech," +exclaimed the noble Gerald, grasping the hand of each. "I say that +they are worthy of each other. He by his earnest, unwavering love for +his lady fair, and earnest, untiring endeavors to serve his State--who +has now won the respect and confidence of his countrymen--he alone is +worthy of the woman ever constant to her early love, yet never +faltering in her chosen path of filial duty." + + * * * * * + + + + +WHY HE WAS MERCIFUL. + +BY FRANCES HENSHAW BADEN. + + Who made the heart, 'tis He alone + Decidedly can try us; + He knows each chord--its various tone; + Each spring--its various bias; + Then at the balance let's be mute-- + We never can adjust it; + What's done, we partly may compute-- + We know not what's resisted.--ROBERT BURNS. + + +"How is it, my old friend, that you are so very lenient to these young +thieves? Your sentence was very unexpected. Every one thought you +would, at least, send them to the State's prison for three or four +years. The young rascals were amazed themselves. The House of +Correction for six months has not much terror for them. Do you know +that it has become a common saying among the members of the bar that +our venerated and respected judge has a strong sympathy--in a word, a +fellow-feeling--for all young thieves! I think you will have to commit +a few of those gentlemen for contempt." + +"I do not wonder, at all, Mr. Archer, at any, indeed, every one, +thinking and saying as much," said Mrs. Morley, the wife of the judge, +just entering the room in time to hear the concluding part of Mr. +Archer's remarks. "Only a few months ago the judge could not possibly +help sentencing a boy to the State's prison; but, before the time for +entry came, he succeeded in getting his pardon; and, more than this, +he has brought him here, into his own home-circle, with the idea of +reforming him." + +"My dear wife, have you any cause, so far, to think I shall fail? Has +not the boy proved grateful and worthy?" asked the judge, in a mild, +though very sad, voice. + +"Yes, yes; but how you can have any patience with such characters, I +cannot imagine," answered his wife. + +"Sit still, Archer, if you have no engagement; I am going to tell my +wife a little story, which will probably explain my charity toward +those unfortunate youths that you have spoken of; and, indeed, all +such. You, as my oldest and most valued friend, shall share the +hearing, if you wish." + +"Many thanks for the privilege, with my deep appreciation for your +kindness in thinking of me thus," returned Mr. Archer, warmly, at the +same time resuming his seat. + +"The story I have to tell you came under my immediate observation. I +was quite well acquainted with the principal character. + +"Very many years ago, and not far distant from this city, lived an +orphan boy, scarce fifteen years of age--bereaved, at one cruel blow, +by a prevailing epidemic, of both parents, and left to the care of an +uncle (his father's brother), a hard, cruel man. + +"A few hundred dollars, quite sufficient, however, to support and +continue the boy's studies, for a few years, was left in the hands of +the uncle. But of this there was no proof--no will or last testament +was left. + +"Death came so swiftly there was little time for aught save an +appealing look from son to brother, and the pleading voice murmured: + +"'Be a father to my boy, Oh! deal justly, kindly towards him!' + +"In a very few days the sensitive mind of the poor boy too truly +perceived that he was not a welcome inmate. Before a month had passed +he was withdrawn from school; his love of study was discouraged; in +fact, made a source of ridicule; and his time so completely taken up +with hard work on the farm, there was no chance for aught else. + +"On one occasion George (we will call him) ventured a remonstrance +with his uncle--alluding to the money in his possession to be used for +George's education and support. Judge of his amazement and indignation +when the bad man denied having one dollar in trust for him, and ended +by calling him a pauper, and saying he would have to work for his +bread. + +"The future, there, was very plain to George; a life of +ignorance--nothing higher than a mere farm drudge. His mind was +determined against that. Privation, suffering, death, even, were +preferable. The next day found him a fugitive from injustice and +dishonesty--a lonely traveler on the path of life. Seeking Fortune, to +find and be treated by that whimsical goddess with good or ill. To be +smiled or frowned upon, to be mounted upon the triumphing waves, +rising higher and higher, until he had reached the pinnacle of Fame, +or drifted about, sinking lower and lower in the dark waters, at last +reaching the pool of Dishonesty, Despair, Death! + +"Ah! who could tell which fate would be his? + +"Oh, how I can sympathize with all such! looking back on my own +pathway to manhood; remembering the dangers, temptations and +numberless snares that youths have to encounter. In fact, to pass +through a fiery furnace! And how very few are they, that come forth, +unscarred, and purified! + +"Remembering this, I exclaim, 'How was I saved?' And then my heart, +almost bursting with gratitude, forces the words to my lips--by God's +mercy alone! + +"Taking with him a few favorite books--a change of linen--he bade +adieu to the home so laden with bitter memories. + +"A day's weary travel brought him to the city of L----. Here, for many +days, until the autumn came on, he managed to subsist--doing little +chores, carrying a carpet-bag or bundle--earning enough to sustain +life merely, and sleeping in the depot or market-house. + +"At length the cold days and colder nights came on; work was very hard +to find, and our poor boy's fortitude was severely tried. + +"The day of his trial, his direst temptation, came! For twenty-four +hours he had not tasted food. A cold, bleak night was fast +approaching. One after another of his books had gone to get a piece of +bread. Now nothing was left but starvation or--the boy dare hardly +breathe it to himself--or dishonesty! + +"He must have food somehow. Loitering about the depot, watching a +chance to earn a few pennies, he saw a gentleman alight from a +carriage, take out his pocketbook, pay the driver, and return it, as +he supposed, to his pocket. + +"It was almost dark, yet the eager eye of the hungry boy saw what had +escaped the driver's. + +"There, in that gutter, lay the surety against suffering for that and +many coming nights. + +"He was about to rush forward and secure the prize--the lost +pocketbook--but caution whispered, 'Be sharp! you may be seen.' And +then, with the cunning and slyness of an old thief--thus suddenly +taught by keen suffering--he sauntered along, crossing the gutter, +stumbled and fell; then put out his hand, covered and secured his +treasure, slowly arose, and feigning a slight lameness, he retraced +his steps towards the depot, entered the waiting-room, which he felt +sure would be unoccupied at that hour. Getting behind the warm stove +and close to the dim lamp, he opened the pocketbook--gold! notes! +tens, twenties! over a hundred dollars met his gaze! When had he seen +so much? His--all his! Had he not found it? Possibly he might have +overtaken the owner and restored it, but what was the use of throwing +away good luck! But already Conscience was at work. Turning over the +notes he found a little silken bag. Opening it, he drew forth a +miniature painting of a beautiful little girl, and on the back was +written: + +"'Our darling! three years old to-day.' + +"It was a lovely, angelic face. The boy was fascinated, spellbound by +it. Long he gazed. He grew very uneasy. His bosom heaved convulsively. +There were signs of violent emotion, and then burst forth the words: + +"'I have not stolen it. Who says so? I found it!' + +"Again he looks almost wildly at the picture; then whispers hoarsely: + +"'She says, "Thou shall not steal!" Can this be stealing? No--no, it +is not. It is luck. I am growing nervous from long fasting. Oh, +Heavens, how hungry I am! Bread, bread! I must have bread or die!' + +"Taking out a few small coins, he closed the pocketbook, putting the +little miniature in his bosom; then walked as swiftly as his failing +strength would allow; reached, and was about to enter, an +eating-house. At the door, he hesitated; and, drawing forth the little +picture, looked again at the baby-face. Now, to his eye, she has grown +older; and the face is so sad, with such an appealing look, which +speaks to his inmost heart. + +"The blue eyes were no longer the laughing ones of childhood; but, +oh! yes, it was really so--his mother's lovely, sad face was before +him! The same sweet, quivering lips, which seemed whispering so +earnestly: + +"'Thou shalt not steal!' + +"Thrusting the picture back to its hiding-place, he sank exhausted +from violent emotion and extreme weakness down on the stone steps. + +"Oh, the terrible struggle that was going on in that young breast! + +"The tearing pangs of hunger, the sharp stinging thrusts of conscience +were warring for the victory. Oh, those who have never known the pangs +of hunger can but poorly imagine that fearful struggle. At last, thank +God! Conscience triumphed. Honesty was victor. + +"Bursting into tears, he murmured: + +"'God forgive, and have mercy! Mother--little angel-girl smile on me!' + +"He returned the coin to the book, and clasping it tightly, replaced +it in his pocket. + +"'I will not touch one cent; and in the morning, if I live so long, I +will find some means to restore it to the owner--all but the little +picture--that angel-child has saved me, and I must keep her to watch +over me in the future.' + +"Slowly he arose, and was proceeding along the street, thinking he +could at least return and sleep in the depot, when a loud noise +attracted his attention. + +"A horse came dashing furiously along the street, drawing after him a +buggy in which was crouching a lady almost lifeless with terror. +Thoughts as swift as lightning flashed through his mind; he might save +her--what though he was trampled to death. Then he surely would be +relieved from suffering! + +"Summoning up all his little strength--then wonderfully increased by +excitement and manly courage--he rushed forward, faced the frightened +little animal, seized the reins, and was dragged some distance, still +holding firmly on--sustaining no injury save a few bruises--until he +succeeded in checking the wild flight. He saw his advantage; then, +with a kind voice, he spoke to the horse, patting and rubbing his head +and neck, until he became quite gentle. George knew the poor fellow +was not vicious but frightened at something he had seen or heard. + +"In a few moments he was joined by a crowd--among whom came a +gentleman limping and wearing a look of great anxiety. + +"George knew his thoughts, and said: + +"'The lady is not at all hurt, sir, only frightened.' + +"Several had seen the boy's action, and the owner of the horse soon +understood all about it. Many were his words of grateful +acknowledgment, and warmly shaking the boy's hand, he pushed into it a +half-eagle. + +"Looking at this a moment, again tempted by hunger, he hesitated--then +exclaimed: + +"'No, thank you, sir, I cannot take it. I am amply rewarded by having +succeeded in helping the lady.' + +"'Oh, do let us do something to prove our thanks. You look so weary, +and indeed, almost sick. Tell us how can we serve you,' said the lady, +who had not spoken until then. + +"These kind words brought tears to the boy's eyes; he tried to speak, +but his voice failed. + +"'There, my boy,' said the gentleman, 'it is growing very cold. We +live only a short way from here. I shall lead my horse, and you must +follow on. Supper is waiting for us; and after we have been refreshed +by a cup of hot coffee and something substantial, I shall insist on +being allowed to prove my thankfulness in some way or other.' + +"This kindness, George had neither the strength nor the will to +refuse. + +"Following on, he soon reached with them, the house of Dr. Perry. Such +a supper the famished boy had not seen since his parents' death, and +he did full justice to it. + +"The doctor's delicate kindness and cordial manner so won the boy, +that during the evening he told him his whole story, of his hard +struggles and dreadful temptation, and ended by producing the +pocketbook, and asking the doctor's advice as to the manner of +restoring it. + +"His kind friend suggested that there might be some clew to be found +inside as to whom it belonged. + +"Opening it, George carefully examined every part, and sure enough, +found a card with the probable name and address of the owner. + +"'Now, my boy, it is too late to-night, but in the morning you can go +find the place, inquire for the lady, and then ask "if her husband +left last night in the train for ----." If he did, then you may know +you have found the right person. Now about yourself, your future. What +are your ideas?' + +"'Oh! sir, if I could only earn enough to support me and get into the +City Academy, I should be the happiest boy alive. But it is so hard to +get a permit. I know I am quite far enough advanced to be able to keep +up with the boys. I could live on bread alone to be able to acquire +knowledge,' said the boy, with great earnestness. + +"'I am thankful, my young friend, I can now find a way to serve you. I +am one of the directors of that institution. You shall be entered, and +obtain all the advantages it offers. + +"'I see you are a proud boy and must feel that you are earning your +living. Come here to me every morning before, and after school has +closed in the afternoons. I wish you to take care of my office, and +keep my things in perfect order for me. What say you to this, and then +getting your meals with us?' + +"Oh! what joy was in that hitherto sorrowful heart. + +"Words could not express it; but clasping the doctor's hands, he +pressed them to his heart, and pointed upward. + +"His friend knew how grateful he was, and how very happy he had made +him. + +"Oh! had not God heard his prayer and speedily answered it. Mercy! how +freely, how bountifully, it was bestowed on him. + +"At last the words burst from his lips: 'Oh, God! I thank Thee.' + +"Early the following morn the pocketbook was restored; everything save +the miniature. This he kept, yet all the while feeling keenly that he +was guilty of a theft. Yet in this he did not feel that God was +offended. And often as he gazed at his little 'guardian angel,' as he +called her, he would say, smilingly: + +"She does not look reproachfully or seem to say, 'Thou shalt not steal +me.' + +"His mind was determined on the purpose to work every spare moment, +night and day, denying himself in every way, until he had secured +money sufficient to get the picture copied, and then return the +original. + +"Months passed on, prosperity smiled on him. His best friend, the +doctor, had full confidence in him. His teachers encouraged and +approved. All was well. + +"His miserable lodgings were before long resigned for a comfortable +room in the happy home of Dr. Perry, who insisted on this arrangement, +saying: + +"'George, your services fully repay me. My little son loves you +dearly, and has wonderfully improved in his studies, since he has been +under your charge. We want you with us as much as possible.' + +"Now, only one thing troubled him. The stolen picture. + +"At length he accomplished what once seemed an almost impossible +thing. The picture was copied and paid for; and George started to +return the original, the one that had rested in his bosom so long. How +he loved it! + +"It was a great sacrifice for him to give up that, and retain the +copy. However, he was somewhat compensated by the result of his +errand. + +"'Twas the fifth birthday of the little girl, and well he knew it. +Ascending the steps of her father's house, he rang the bell, which was +soon answered by a servant, and behind him came a bevy of little +girls, the foremost being the original of his picture, his little +'guardian angel.' + +"'More presents for me?" she asked, as he handed the precious parcel +into her tiny hands, extended for it. + +"'No, little one, for your father! Will you tell me your name?' he +asked. + +"'Oh, yes! My name is----'" + +"What was it?" eagerly asked Mrs. Morely. + +"Why are you so anxious? I'll punish you a little for interrupting me, +by not telling you," answered the judge, playfully. + +"Well, well, no matter; only go on," answered his wife, showing +plainly how deeply she was interested in his story. + +"The little one held her hand, saying: + +"'I am five years old to-day. Shake hands with me, Mr. ----I do not +know your name. Every one shakes hands and kisses me to-day.' + +"The youth clasped the dear little hand (held forth with the sweet +innocence of childhood and combined with a dignity well worthy of a +maid of twenty), and pressed on it a pure kiss, at the same time +breathing to himself the vow that, with God's blessing and help, to +win such a position that should enable him to seek and know this child +in her home. To try and make himself worthy of her; to win her love, +and in years to come to have her as his 'guardian angel' through life. + +"Often he would get a glimpse of her at the window or the door, this +giving him encouragement to work on. + +"Another year he was taken as assistant in the primary department of +the academy, this giving him a small income. + +"In two more years he had graduated with the highest honors. + +"His mind had been determined in favor of the law. His most ardent +wish to get in the office and read with the father of 'his little +love,' then a very distinguished lawyer. + +"This desire he made known to Dr. Perry, who readily encouraged it, +saying: + +"'I have no doubt, George, that you can succeed, backed by such +letters as we can give you. This gentleman is very kind and courteous, +and I think has no one with him at present. If I am not very much +mistaken, after you have seen and talked with him a short time, it +will be all right.' + +"And so it proved. In a few days more George was studying under the +same roof with the child of all his dearest, highest aspirations, +daily seeing and speaking to her. + +"Very soon the little maid of eight years became very fond of him. + +"George rose rapidly in the respect and esteem of his instructor, and +in a few months a deep and sincere attachment existed between them. +Subsequently our young friend entered the Bar, and was looked upon as +a man of fine promise; his career upward was steady, and finally, +after eight or ten years' practice, he was among the best of his day. + +"All these years of toil and study were for laurels to lay at the feet +of the one who had so unconsciously saved him and encouraged him +'onward.' Nothing now prevented the fruition of all his hopes. A +little while longer, and the living, breathing, speaking guardian +angel was all his own--blessing his heart and house, filling his very +soul with the purest love, the most profound gratitude to God, by +whose infinite mercy he was thus almost miraculously saved. And to +prove his gratitude and thankfulness, he has endeavored constantly to +win the erring from sin, to encourage and sustain the penitent, to try +and soften the hardened heart, and finally, as much as possible, to +ameliorate the suffering and punishment of the guilty and condemned, +truly knowing how very many are tempted as much and more than the hero +of my story, without the interposition of such a special Providence." + +The judge had finished. Mrs. Morely arose, and, passing her arm around +her husband, pressed her lips to his, earnestly and with deep emotion, +saying: + +"I long since recognized the noble, suffering boy of your story. My +husband, forgive my having ever questioned your actions or motives. In +the future I will try to prove my worthiness of your love by aiding +you in all your works of mercy." + +"My old friend, and of all the most respected and honored, if it were +possible your story would increase my veneration," said Mr. Archer, +grasping and pressing the judge's hand. + +"I would to Heaven there were more like you. If so, the temptations +and snares which surround the path of youth would be less terrible and +frequent--in a word, our whole community a little nearer, as God would +have us be." + + * * * * * + + + +MEMORABLE THANKSGIVING DAYS. + +BY FRANCES HENSHAW BADEN. + + Shadow and shine is life, little Annie, flower and thorn.--TENNYSON. + + +"Draw near me, William; I have so much I want to say, and now I feel +too truly how rapidly I am drifting away. When I close my eyes I see +so many happy, familiar faces, just a little way above, in the clouds. +They are beckoning me away. Tell me, what day is this?" + +"Thanksgiving, dear. But, pray, do not talk so. You are not going to +leave me yet, Mary. You will be, you are better," said her husband, +bending sorrowfully over her. + +"Yes, I will be well, soon. I shall not see to-morrow's sun. Promise +me, my husband, to try and make our boy feel as little as possible his +loss. Be to him what I have been. He is a strange, shy child, and +reminds me much of my own childhood. You scarcely know him, you have +been so completely absorbed in your business all the time. Be with +him, have him more with you. There is no need now of your being such a +slave to business. You are prospering, you will be rich. Oh! do not +let your heart become so encased in gold as to render it inaccessible +to all higher, better feelings. In years to come another will occupy +my place, but, oh! William, do not let those new ties come between you +and your first-born. Give me your hand, and with it the pledge to make +his welfare your first thought. + +"Thank you, dear! you have lifted a great weight from my heart. The +only doubt is cleared away. Here put our wedding ring on your finger! +How tight it fits. It will be a constant reminder of your pledge. Now +bring Willie to me." + +She gradually faded away during the afternoon, murmuring constantly +words of love and hope, the last intelligible being, "Love each other +for my sake." + +As the Thanksgiving sun went down the spirit of the gentle, +long-suffering Mary Archer joined the waiting ones above. + +William Archer truly loved his young wife, and sincerely mourned her +loss. Much of his time was spent with his son in trying to comfort and +divert the attention of the sorrowing boy from his great loss. + +Willie grew to love very dearly his father, hitherto almost a stranger +to him. + +Mary's words were soon verified. Riches grew rapidly around him, and +in less than two years he had filled her vacant place by another. + +With what an acute ear, jealous eye and aching heart he listened for +every word of endearment, watched every action of love that his father +bestowed on his new wife. Willie was not a boy to win the heart of a +stranger. Retiring, silent and sad, but possessing a brave, grateful +heart, he had to be known to be loved. The new mother did not care to +take the trouble to win the love of her husband's child. + +Years rolled on. Bright, cheerful, happy boys and beautiful, loving +girls grew round the father's heart, claiming and winning his love, +until poor Willie was almost forgotten, or only remembered when in +sight, and then always compared so unfavorably with the merry ones +around him. + +On one occasion some temporary ailment caused the father's hand to +become very much swollen, until the little wedding ring became very +tight and pained his finger much. His wife suggested its being filed +off. While debating on the necessity of so doing, there came memories +of the past. The long-forgotten pledge, the reminder of which was +making him feel it so keenly then. How had he fulfilled that promise? + +He would not have the ring removed. The swelling gradually passed +away. And William Archer determined to make amends for his past +neglect by future care and attention to his motherless boy. + +But these good intentions were put to a speedy flight by an +unfortunate accident which occurred that afternoon. + +Constant difficulties and childish quarrels arose between the little +ones, Willie always being the erring one, both with the mother and +nurses. If a child fell and was hurt, "Willie did it." In a word, the +poor boy was the "scapegoat." + +The children were playing in the large ground surrounding their +future elegant home. Willie was just twelve years old then. The nurse +was attending the younger ones. A little way from the house was a +large pond with a rustic bridge. Mr. Archer had frequently warned the +nurse of the danger in allowing the children to play about there. +Little Eddie, a merry, willful boy of six years, disregarding all +Willie's entreaties to come away, would amuse himself by "riding +horseback," as he called it, on the railing of the frail bridge, and +tossing up his arms with a shout of defiance and laughter, he lost his +balance and fell into the water, quite deep enough to drown a much +larger boy. + +A scream from the little ones brought the nurse to a knowledge of the +truth. + +"Eddie's in the water! Eddie's drowned." + +In a moment Willie's jacket was off, and he plunged in, and, before +the terrified nurse could collect her thoughts, brought out and placed +the insensible boy on the grass before her. + +Catching up the child, she rushed to the house, and, placing him in +his mother's arms, declared, to screen her own negligence, that: + +"Willie had pushed his brother in the pond." + +Willie, following on with the other children, entered the house, his +young heart proudly glowing with the knowledge of having done a good, +brave action, and saying to himself: + +"Now, this will surely please papa and make Eddie's mother love me a +little." + +Poor boy! He was met by stern eyes and harsh, upbraiding words, which +for a moment quite bewildered him. + +"You have killed your brother! You cruel, unnatural child," cried the +mother. + +"Out of my sight, boy," said his father, in low, threatening tones. + +"Oh, father! what do you mean? Let me tell you how it was." + +"Begone, sir!" and the enraged man gave poor Willie a blow which sent +him reeling into the hall. + +Staggering up to his room and throwing himself on the bed, he wailed +forth, in heart-rending tones: + +"Oh, mother, mother! I wish I was with you! Others can die, why not I? +No one loves me! Oh, I wish I were dead!" + +Tired and exhausted by the exertions in the water, he soon fell +asleep, and remained so until the sun was just rising next morning. + +All his sorrow, all the injustice of the night before came rushing +back to his mind. + +Hastily dressing himself, and then taking from his desk paper and pen, +he wrote: + + You have told me to get out of your sight, father. I shall. You + will never see me again. You need not search for me. I am going + to try and find my mother. When Eddie is better, you will hear + the truth, and feel your injustice to WILLIE. + +Folding this, and leaving it on his table, he stole down and made his +way into town, not quite determined what to do. His first thought was +to seek the river, and in its quiet waters end his sorrows. Oh! why +would not death come to him? + +How quiet the city was! Usually so many were stirring about at that +hour. No market wagons or bread carts about. Oh, now he remembered, it +was Thanksgiving Day. + +On he walked, and then came in sight of the church where his mother +used to go, and then memories of all her holy teachings. Should he +find her if he attempted self-destruction? + +What could he do? He could not live on! Surely God would forgive him! + +Then he thought he would go once more into that church, and +then--Heaven only knows what next. Waiting in the park until church +time, he retraced his steps and reached the door just as the beautiful +hymn, "Come, ye disconsolate," rose into the air. + +Going in while the words + + "Here bring your wounded hearts" + +filled his ear, he crept up into the gallery and seated himself near +the choir. + +He grew somewhat calm, and his mind was, for the time, diverted from +his sorrows by the sight of a little girl seated beside one of the +singers--her mother, he thought. + +The happy, beaming face of the little one interested him very much. + +The services over, he followed close behind her, endeavoring to get +another look at her, wondering if she was ever sad! And, standing at +the church door as she was about to enter a carriage waiting, in which +a lady and gentleman were already seated, he thought: + +"Oh, what kind, loving parents she must have to make her look so +joyous!" His face wore a very sad expression. The little girl turned, +caught the sorrowful look bent on her, then stepped suddenly back, +went up to our Willie, and said, with the winning grace and perfect +simplicity of a child of six: + +"Here, little boy, you look so sad, I am very sorry for you. Take my +flowers." + +What angel-spirit, prompted by the will of its Divine Master, was it +that whispered to the little child to go comfort the sorrowing boy, +and with her kind sympathy and sweet offering to draw him back from +the dreadful precipice on which he stood, and lift him from darkness +and despair? His mother's, perchance. A bright light shone in the +boy's eye. His face was losing its despairing expression. The flowers +were speaking to his heart, whispering of Trust, Faith, Hope! Yes, he +must live on, brave all sorrows, trample down difficulties, and with +God's blessing try to live to be a good and useful man. + +"Why, Minnie! what do you mean? Why did you give those beautiful +flowers to that strange boy? I never saw such a child as you are!" + +"Mamma, I gave them to him because he looked so sad, just as if he +had not a happy home, or loving papa and mamma like I have. I felt so +sorry for him, and I wanted to tell him so. I'm sure he hasn't got any +mother, or he would not look so." + +"Never mind, Laura, my dear. Do not worry about Minnie. She is all +right. Let her act from the dictates of her kind, innocent heart," +returned the little one's father. + +"Oh, yes! let her alone, and in years to come she will from the +dictates of her kind heart, be giving herself away to some motherless, +fameless and moneyless young man, I fear!" said the worldly and +far-seeing mother. + +"But not senseless man, I'll warrant you," was the laughing reply. + + * * * * * + +"Why, William, my dear boy, why can you not be satisfied to remain +here with me? Why do you wish to go away? 'Idle life!' 'Making a +living and do some good!' Humph, sir! you need not be idle. Read to +me; ride with me. As for your living, sir, I made that for you before +you were born; and now I intend you shall enjoy it. Now, my boy, my +son in all my heart's dearest affections, stay with me. Wait until the +old man is gone; then you will have time enough to be useful to +others." + +"Mr. Lincoln--uncle, father!--yes, more than father--your wish must be +mine. Did you not, fifteen years ago, take in a poor, wretched, +friendless, homeless boy--bless him with your care and protection, +educate, fulfill all his brightest hopes by giving him a profession, +which will not only make him independent, but enable him to help and +comfort others. Let me prove my gratitude in any way." + +"Come, come, do not talk of gratitude. Oh, my boy, if you only knew +what deep joy it has afforded me, having you here. I will tell you +now, William, why it was I so readily opened my heart and home to the +little wanderer I found that Thanksgiving afternoon so long ago. When +I first looked into your eyes there was a strange, familiar expression +about them that aroused my interest. Upon questioning you I found that +the son of the only woman I had ever loved was before me! My heart +yearned to help you; otherwise I should have relieved you from present +want, and then informed your father of your whereabouts. Yes, my boy, +the love I bore your mother was never transferred to another woman. +Your father and myself were her suitors at the same time. He proved +the fortunate one. Having you with me all these years has been a great +solace; and now say no more about gratitude. Just love me, and stay +with me." + +And Uncle Lincoln added, humorously: + +"Perhaps I may be doing some good by preventing some harm. I'll keep +you from practicing and experimenting on some poor creature. Oh, you +young doctors are always very anxious to make a beginning. 'Pon my +word, I have quite forgotten to open my little Minnie's letter. Coming +here to see her uncle, and will be with us to-morrow. I'm glad, very +glad. Well, it is rather strange that the two I love best in the world +should not know each other. It has happened that you have been off at +college or attending lectures each time she has been here. Guard well +your heart, boy. Every one loves her, and she no one better than her +parents and old uncle. Much to her mother's regret, she has refused +the finest offers in town. She does not care a mote for the title of +'old maid' with which her mother often threatens her. She is +twenty-one, and has never been in love, she says." + +"I think I am quite safe, sir. I am not at all susceptible, and it is +not likely that a young lady of her position in society and of such +beauty will cast a thought on me." + +The next day the old gentleman had the pleasure of introducing those +he loved so well; and, to his infinite delight, saw his darling Minnie +had certainly made a desired impression on his young _protege_. + +"Here he is, Minnie! the boy who stole half my heart away from you. I +do not know how you will settle it with him, unless you take his in +pay." + +Often during the evening Uncle Lincoln noticed Will's gaze lingering +on his niece, and there was a softer light than usual in his fine +eyes; but, to his great regret, his boy did not appear to his usual +advantage. He was very silent, and his mind seemed absent--far away. + +And so it truly was. In the lovely girl before him William Archer +beheld the joyous child who, on that dark day, spoke so kindly and +saved him from--he dreaded to think what! + +Uncle Lincoln rubbed his hands and chuckled merrily to himself. +Everything was working to his entire satisfaction. These two +impenetrable hearts were growing wonderfully congenial, he thought. + +A few days before Minnie's visit was concluded, William brought out +and placed in her hands a bunch of withered flowers; told his story of +how, long years ago, her sweet sympathy had cheered his desolate heart +and made him feel that there was still love in the world, then so dark +to him; that her kind action had awakened in his almost paralyzed mind +better thoughts, and let him know the only way to gain peace and +happiness, and, finally, meet his mother, was in living on--putting +his trust and faith in God's goodness and mercy! + +And then he told his love and gained hers; and, with her dear hand +clasped in his, stood waiting Uncle Lincoln's blessing! + +"Minnie might do very much better," said the aspiring mamma; "but it +was Uncle Lincoln's wish." + +So the next Thanksgiving was to be the wedding day. + + * * * * * + +In a luxuriously-furnished apartment, surrounded by everything that +contributes to make life pleasant, sat an old man. + +Every now and then he would raise his bowed head from the clasped +hands, gaze anxiously around the room, and then, with a deep sigh, +relapse again into his attitude of grief and despair. At last he +speaks: + +"Thanksgiving night again, and, for the first time in fifteen years, +she has failed to hover round me, and I have not heard the sighing +voice inquire: 'Where is my boy? How did you keep your promised word?' +Oh! perhaps the mother has found her child. He may be with her now. +Oh! I would give everything--my poor, miserable life--to recall that +terrible day's injustice. My brave, noble boy! and how were you +repaid? Oh! I have suffered terribly for all my neglect and wrong of +my motherless boy! All gone from me, all the healthy, beautiful +children; all taken away! We were not worthy of those precious gifts. +God took them to himself. Now, what comfort do all these riches bring +me? Nothing! nothing! and my poor, childless wife! How bitterly she +has repented her wrong! + +"Oh, Willie! Willie, my boy! Where are you now?" + +"Here, father, here! kneeling, and waiting for your love and +blessing." + +"Am I dreaming? Oh! cruel dreams! I shall awaken, as often before, and +find how false you are!" + +"No, it's no dream, father! Give me your hand. Now, you feel your +erring boy is back beside you, praying your forgiveness for all these +years of silence--causing you so much sorrow!" + +The old man was clasped to his son's bosom. Long he held him thus, +while a sob of joy burst from the father's thankful heart. + +"Father, speak to my wife; you have another child now. She it was who +brought me back to you this blessed day. This, the anniversary of my +mother's death! also of the day of my greatest peril, is now the +happiest of my life--my wedding day, and restoration to my father's +heart! + +"Where is my stepmother? I would see and try to comfort her. Oh! let +this day be one of perfect reconciliation. Let us make it a +thanksgiving from the inmost heart." + +And now may we all, who have aught of ill dwelling in our hearts, go +and be of kindly feeling one toward the other again. Let not the +coming Thanksgiving's sun go down on our wrath. Let it not be merely a +thanksgiving in words--a day of feasting--but a heart's feasting on +peace and good will. + +THE END. + + * * * * * + + + + +THE IRISH REFUGEE. + + The only son of his mother, and she was a widow.--Luke vii. 12. + + Long years shall see thee roaming + A sad and weary way, + Like traveler tired at gloaming + Of a sultry summer day. + But soon a home will greet thee, + Though low its portals be, + And ready kinsmen meet thee, + And peace that will not flee.--PERCIVAL. + + +It was a lovely morning, that last Saturday in July, 1849. The sun had +not yet risen when our family party, consisting of Aunt and Uncle +Clive, Cousin Christine and myself, took seats at an early +breakfast-table. A capacious carriage, well packed with presents for +country cousins, stood at the door, ready to convey us to Virginia, to +spend the month of August. We, a merry set of grown-up children, were +too delighted with our prospective pleasure to eat anything, and so we +soon left the table and put on our bonnets and hats, preparatory to a +start. We entered the carriage. + +"Now, then, are we all ready?" asked Uncle Clive. + +"Yes," replied aunt. + +"Has nothing been forgotten?" + +"No--but stay! Where is Cousin Peggy's cap, Chrissy?" + +"There--pinned up in that paper to the roof of the carriage. Don't hit +your head against it, uncle." + +"Clive, where did you put the basket of bread and butter and cold +chicken?" + +"There--in the bottom of the carriage. Be careful, now, my dear, or +you will get your feet into it." + +"No, I shan't. But hadn't you better put the bandbox with Martha's +bonnet inside here?" + +"Indeed, mother," interposed Miss Chrissy, "there is no room for it; +for Cousin Peggy's bundle is on one side and the keg of crackers on +the other; my feet are resting on the caddy of tea, and the loaf of +sugar and paper of coffee are in my lap!" + +"There! let's get along," said Uncle Clive, impatiently. "I declare, +the sun is already half an hour high, and a ride of forty-five or +fifty miles before us. We shall not reach Willow Glade before ten +o'clock to-night." + +"Yes, and about nine o'clock we shall be going down Bloody Run Hill, +and I never can go through the piece of woods between that and Gibbet +Hill after dark without horror." + +"Ever since the peddler was murdered." + +"Yes, ever since the peddler was murdered, and before, too." + +Uncle Clive now jumped into his seat, and, taking the reins, we set +off at a pretty brisk rate. + +"Clive, don't that horse look a little vicious? See how he pricks up +his ears!" + +"Pooh! Nonsense! He's as safe a horse as ever drew." + +"What o'clock is it, now?" + +"Humph! half-past five. I think the next time we wish to get off at +sunrise, we had better arrange to start at midnight; then, perhaps, we +may succeed." + +Turning the corner of the street at this moment the sudden sight of +the river, and the wood on the opposite bank, glimmering and +glistening in the light of the morning sun, elicited a simultaneous +burst of admiration from our travelers. Then the prospective pleasures +of the rural visit were discussed, the family and friendly reunions, +the dinner parties, the fish feasts upon the river's banks, the oyster +excursions and crab expeditions; and in such pleasant anticipations +the cheerful hours of that delightful forenoon slipped away; and when, +at last, the heat of the sun grew oppressive, and our sharpened +appetites reminded us of the dinner-basket, we began to cast around +for a cool, dry and shady spot on which to rest and refresh ourselves. +The road here was wide and passed through a thick forest. A few more +turns of the wheels brought us to a narrow footpath, diverging from +the main road into the forest on the left-hand side. + +"Let's get out here, Clive, and follow this path; I know it. It leads +to a fine spring, with an acre or two of cleared land about it, on +which there was once a dwelling." + +This was agreed upon, and we all alighted and took the path through +the wood. We had not gone many yards ere a scene of woodland beauty +opened to our view. It presented an area of about four acres of open +land in the midst of the forest. From the opposite side a little +rivulet took its rise, and ran tinkling and splashing, in its pebbly +bed, through the centre of this open glade, until its music was lost +in the distance in the forest. But the most interesting object in +sight was a ruined cottage. It was very small. It could not have +contained more than two rooms. In front there had once been a door, +with a window on each side; but now both door and windows were gone. + +The solitary chimney had fallen down, and the stones of which it had +been built lay scattered around. A peach tree grew at the side of the +cottage, and its branches, heavy with the luscious fruit, drooped upon +the low roof. A grapevine grew in front, and its graceful tendrils +twined in and out through the sashless windows and the broken door. A +bird of prey was perched upon the house, and, as we approached, with a +fearful scream it took its flight. + +"Be careful, Christine, where you step; your foot is on a grave!" + +With a start and a sudden pallor, Christine looked down upon the +fragment of a gravestone. Stooping and putting aside the long grass +and weeds, she read: "The only child of his mother, and she a widow." + +"Whose grave could this have been, mother? The upper part of the +stone, which should bear the name, is gone. Oh, how sad this ruined +cot, and this lonely grave! I suppose, mother, here, in the heart of +the forest, in this small cottage, lived the widow and her only child. +The child died, as we may see, and she--oh! was the boon of death +granted to her at the same moment? But, who were they, mother? As your +early life was passed in this part of the country, you surely can tell +us." + +Aunt Clive, who had been gazing sadly and silently on the scene since +giving the warning to Christine, said: + +"Yes, I can tell you the story. But here comes your father, looking +very tired and hungry; and, as it is a very sad tale, we will defer it +until we have dined." + +We spread our repast upon the grass, and, seating ourselves upon the +fragments of the broken chimney, soon became engrossed in the +discussion of cold chicken, ham and bread. As soon as we had +dispatched them and repacked our basket, and while we were waiting for +the horses to feed and rest, Aunt Clive told us the following tale of +real life: + + +THE IRISH EMIGRANTS. + +A short time previous to the breaking out of the Rebellion in Ireland +a family of distinction came from that country to America and +purchased and settled upon a handsome estate near the then flourishing +village of Richmond. Their family name was Delany. With them came a +Dr. Dulan, a clergyman of the established church. Through the +influence of the Delanys, Dr. Dulan was preferred to the rectorship +of the newly established parish of All Saints, and subsequently to the +president's chair of the new collegiate school of Newton Hall. This +prosperity enabled him to send for his son and daughter, and settle +with them in a comfortable home near the scene of his labors. + +It was about the fifth year of his residence in Virginia that the +rebellion in Ireland broke out, and foremost among the patriots was +young Robert Dulan, a brother of the doctor. All know how that +desperate and fatal effort terminated. Soon after the martyrdom of the +noble Emmet, young Dulan was arrested, tried, condemned, and followed +his admired leader to the scaffold, leaving his heart-broken young +wife and infant boy in extreme penury and destitution. As soon as she +recovered from the first stunning shock of her bereavement, she wrote +to her brother-in-law, soliciting protection for herself and child. To +this the doctor, who, to great austerity of manners, united an +excellent heart, replied by inviting his brother's widow to come to +Virginia, and inclosing the amount of money required to supply the +means. As soon as the old gentleman had done that he began to prepare +for her reception. Knowing that two families seldom get on well +beneath the same roof, and with a delicate consideration for the +peculiar nature of her trials, he wished to give her a home of her +own. Selecting this spot for the beauty and seclusion of its position, +as well as for its proximity to his own residence, he built this +cottage, inclosed it by a neat paling, and planted fruit trees. It was +a very cheerful, pretty place, this neat, new cottage, painted white, +with green window shutters; the white curtains; the honeysuckle and +white jessamine, trained to grow over and shade the windows; the white +paling, tipped with green; the clean gravel walk that led up to the +door, the borders of which were skirted with white and with red roses; +the clusters of tulips, lilies and hyacinths--all contributed to make +the wilderness "blossom as the rose;" and every day the kind-hearted +man sought to add some new attraction to the scene. + +One evening the doctor had been over to the cottage, superintending +the arrangement of some furniture. On his return home, a servant +brought a packet of letters and papers. Glancing over one of them, he +said: + +"Elizabeth, my daughter." + +A prim young lady, in a high-necked dress, and a close-fitting black +net cap, looked up from her work and answered in a low, formal voice: + +"My father." + +"Your aunt and cousin have at length arrived at the port of Baltimore. +They came over in the _Walter Raleigh_. I wish you to be in readiness +to accompany me to-morrow when I go to bring them down." + +"My father, yes," were the only words that escaped the formal and +frozen girl. + +A week after this conversation the still life of the beautiful +cottage was enlivened. A lovely boy played before the door, while a +pale mother watched him from within. That pale mother was not yet +thirty years of age, yet her cheeks were sunken, her eyes dim, and her +hair streaked with silver. Truly, the face was breaking fast, but the +heart was breaking faster. But the boy! Oh, he was a noble child! Tall +for his age (he was but five years old), his dark hair, parted over a +high, broad forehead, fell in sable curls upon his shoulders; his +large black eyes, now keen and piercing as the young eagle's, now soft +and melting as the dove's. His dark eyes wore their softest shade as +he stole to his mother's side, and, twining his little arms around her +neck, drew her face down to his, saying, with a kiss: "Willie is so +sorry?" + +"For what should Willie be sorry?" said the mother, tenderly caressing +him. + +"Because mamma is sad. Does she want Willie to do anything?" + +"No, sweet boy, she wants nothing done that Willie can do." + +"If mamma's head aches, Willie will hold it." + +"Her head does not ache." + +"If mamma wants Willie to stop teasing her and go to bed, he will go." + +"You are not teasing me, dear Willie, and it is rather too early for +you to go to bed." + +The widow strove to chase the gloom from her brow, that she might not +darken by its shadow the bright sunshine of her child's early life, +and with an effort at cheerfulness she exclaimed: "Now go, Willie, and +get the pretty book Cousin Elizabeth gave you, and see if you can read +the stories in it." + +Willie ran off to obey with cheerful alacrity. + +The doctor was not able to do more for his sister-in-law than to give +her the cottage and supply her with the necessaries of life; and to do +this, he cheerfully curtailed the expenses of his own household. It +was delightful to see the affectionate gratitude of the widow and +child toward their benefactor. And that angel child, I wish I could do +justice to his filial devotion. He seemed, at that early age, to feel +as though he only lived to love and bless his mother. To be constantly +at her side, to wait upon her, even to study her wants and anticipate +her wishes, seemed to be the greatest joy of the little creature. + +"Willie, why don't you eat your cake?" asked his uncle one day, when +Willie had been sent over to the doctor's on an errand, and had been +treated to a large slice of plumcake by his Cousin Elizabeth. + +Willie silently began to nibble his cake, but with evident reluctance. + +"Why, you do not seem to like it! Is it not good?" + +"Yes, sir, thank you." + +"Why don't you eat it, then?" + +"My father," said Elizabeth. + +"Well, Miss Dulan?" + +"I think that Willie always carries every piece of cake he gets to his +mother." + +"But why not always prevent that by sending her a piece yourself?" + +"Because, my dear father, I think it may be wrong to restrain the +amiable spirit of self-denial evinced by the child." + +"Then you are mistaken, Miss Dulan; and recollect that it is very +irreverent in a young lady to express an opinion at variance with the +spirit of what her father has just said." + +Elizabeth meekly and in silence went to the pantry and cut a piece of +cake, which she carefully wrapped up and gave to Willie for his +mother. Willie received it with an humble and deprecatory look, as if +he felt the whole responsibility and weight of the reproof that had +fallen upon his cousin. + +One Christmas eve, when Willie was above seven years old, the widow +and her son were sitting by the cottage hearth. The closed shutters, +drawn curtains, clean hearth and bright fire threw an air of great +comfort over the room. Mrs. Dulan sat at her little work-table, +setting the finishing stitches in a fine linen shirt, the last of a +dozen that she had been making for the doctor. + +The snowstorm that had been raging all day long had subsided, though +occasionally the light and drifted snow would be blown up from the +ground by a gust of wind against the windows of the house. "Poor boy," +said the widow, looking at her son, "you look tired and sleepy; go to +bed, Willie." + +"Oh! dear mamma, I am not tired, and I could not sleep at all while +you are up alone and at work. Please let me stay up--but I will go to +bed if you say so," added he, submissively. + +"Come and kiss me, darling. Yes, Willie, you may stay up as long as +you like. I will go to bed myself," added she, mentally, "so as not to +keep the poor boy up." + +"Well, Willie, I will tell you a story, darling, which will amuse you, +while I sew." + +Just at this moment the sound of carriage wheels, followed immediately +by a jump from the box, and a smart rap at the door, caused the widow +to start hastily from her seat. The door was opened, and Jake, the big +black coachman of the old doctor, made his appearance, a heavy cloak +and a large muffling hood hanging over his arm. + +"Marm," said he, "it has clarred off beautiful, and massa has sent the +carriage arter you, and he says how he would have sent it afore, but +how the roads was blocked up with snowdrifts. Me and Pontius Pilate, +and Massa John, has been all the arternoon a clarring it away, and I +thinks, marm, if you don't come to-night, how the road will be as bad +as ever to-morrow morning, with this wind a-blowing about the snow. +Miss Lizzy has sent this hood of hern, and massa has sent this big +cloth cloak of hizzen, so that you needn't ketch cold." + +Mrs. Dulan did not immediately reply, but looked at Willie, and seemed +to reflect. + +Jake added: + +"I hopes you'll come, marm, for massa and Miss Lizzy and Massa John +has quite set their heads on having you with them to spend Christmas, +and Massa John told me to tell you how he had bagged a fine passel of +waterfowl and wild turkeys, and I myself has made a trap for Massa +Willie to catch snowbirds." + +"Yes, we will go," said Mrs. Dulan. "Do me the favor, Jacob, to pour a +pitcher of water on that fire, while I tie on Willie's cloak and +mittens." + +In twenty minutes more, Willie was seated on his uncle's knees, by his +bright fireside, and his mother sat conversing with John and +Elizabeth, and a few neighbors whom the inclemency of the weather had +not deterred from dropping in to spend Christmas eve. The old +housekeeper stood at the buffet, cutting up seedcake, and pouring out +elder wine, which was soon passed round to the company. + +That Christmas was a gorgeous morning. The sun arose and lit up into +flashing splendor the icy glories of the landscape. From every roof +and eave, from every bough and bush, dropped millions of blazing +jewels. Earth wore a gorgeous bridal dress, bedecked with diamonds. +Within the doctor's house everything was comfortable as you could +wish. A rousing fire of hickory wood roared upon the hearth, an +abundant breakfast of coffee, tea, buckwheat cakes, muffins, eggs, +wild fowls, oysters, etc., etc., smoked upon the board. The family +were all gathered in the breakfast-room. The doctor was serving out +eggnog from a capacious bowl upon the sideboard. + +"Cousin Elizabeth," said little Willie, taking her hand and leading +her away to the sofa, "what do ladies love?" + +"What do ladies love? Why, Willie, what a queer question." + +"Yes, but tell me what do ladies love?" + +"Why, their papas, of course, and their brothers, and their relations; +it would not be decorous to love any one else," said the prim maiden. + +"Oh, you don't know what I mean; I mean what do ladies love to have? +You know boys like to have kites and marbles, and traps to catch +snowbirds, and picture books, and half-pence and such things. Now what +do ladies love to have?" + +"Oh, now I understand you. Why, we like to have a good assortment of +crewels and floss to work tapestry with, and a quantity of +bright-colored silk to embroider with, and----" + +"Oh, that's what you like, Cousin Elizabeth; but mamma doesn't work +samplers," said the boy, with a dash of pettish contempt in his tone. +"Uncle has given me a bright new shilling for a Christmas gift, to do +what I please with, and I want to get something with it for poor, dear +mamma." + +"La! child, you can get nothing of any account with a shilling." + +"Can't I?" said he, and his little face fell for an instant, but soon +lighting up, he exclaimed: "Oh, ho! Cousin Elizabeth, I am brighter +than you are, this time. A silver thimble is a very little thing, and +can be bought with a shilling, I am sure; so I will buy one for mamma. +Poor mamma has an old brass one now, which cankers her finger." + +"Here, Willie," said Elizabeth, "I have not paid you my Christmas +gift, and you caught me, you know; take this shilling, and now run and +ask your uncle to take you to the village with him when he goes, and +then you can buy your thimble. You have enough to get one now." + +Willie thanked his cousin with a hearty embrace, and ran off to do as +she advised him. The family now sat down to breakfast, after which +they all went to church, where the doctor performed divine service. A +large party of friends and neighbors returned with them to dinner, and +the remainder of the day was spent in hilarity and innocent enjoyment. + +The next day the thimble was purchased, as agreed upon, and little +Willie kept it a profound secret from his mother, until the first +evening on which they found themselves at home, in their little +parlor, when the candle was lit, and the little stand drawn to the +fire, the workbox opened, and the old brass thimble put on. Then +little Willie, glowing with blissful excitement, put his hand in his +pocket to find his present. It was not there. He searched the other +pocket, then his cap, then shook his cloak and looked about the +carpet. Alarmed now, he opened the door and was going out, when his +mother called to him. + +"What is the matter, Willie? Where are you going? What have you +lost?" + +"Nothing much, mother; I am only going out a minute," and he closed +the door, and began an almost hopeless search by the moonlight for his +lost treasure. Up and down the walk he searched without finding it. He +opened the gate, and peeping and peering about, wandered up the road, +until his little feet and limbs got wet in the soft snow, and his +hands became benumbed; when, feeling convinced that it was lost, he +sat down and burst into a passionate fit of weeping. Let no one feel +surprise or contempt at this. In this little affair of the thimble +there had been disinterested love, self-sacrifice, anticipated joy, +disappointment and despair, though all expended on a cheap thimble. +Yet, Willie was but seven years old, and "thought as a child, felt as +a child, understood as a child." I am a grown-up child now, and have +had many troubles, but the most acute sorrow I ever felt was the death +of my pet pigeon, when I was seven years old. + +It was long before the storm in his little bosom subsided, but when +at last it did, he turned to go home; he would not go before, lest he +might grieve his mother with the sight of his tears. At last, weary +and half-frozen, he opened the cottage gate and met his mother coming +to look for him, and she, who always spoke most gently to him, and for +whose dear sake she was suffering, now by a sad chance, and out of her +fright and vexation, sharply rebuked him and hurried him off to bed. +"If dear mamma had known, she would not have scolded me so, though," +was his last thought as he sank into a feverish sleep. The next +morning when Mrs. Dulan arose, the heavy breathing, and bright flush +upon the cheek of her boy, caught her attention, and roused her fears +for his health. As she gazed, a sharp expression of pain contracted +his features and he awoke. Feebly stretching out his arms to embrace +her, he said: + +"Oh, mamma, Willie is so sick, and his breast hurts so bad." + +The child had caught the pleurisy. + +It was late at night before medical assistance could be procured from +a distant village. In the meantime the child's illness had fearfully +progressed; and when at last the physician arrived, and examined him, +he could give no hopes of his recovery. Language cannot depict the +anguish of the mother as she bent over the couch of her suffering boy, +and, if a grain could have increased the burden of her grief, it would +have been felt in the memory of the few words of harsh rebuke when he +had returned half-frozen and heavy-hearted from his fruitless search +after the thimble, for the kind Elizabeth had arrived and explained +the incident of the night. + + * * * * * + +It was midnight of the ninth day. Willie had lain in a stupor for a +whole day and night previous. His mother stood by his bed; she neither +spoke nor wept, but her face wore the expression of acute suffering. +Her eyes were strained with an earnest, anxious, agonized gaze upon +the deathly countenance of the boy. Old Dr. Dulan entered the room at +this moment, and looking down at the child, and taking his thin, cold +hand in his own, felt his pulse, and turning to the wretched mother, +who had fixed her anxious gaze imploringly upon him, he said: + +"Hannah, my dear sister---- But, oh, God! I cannot deceive you," and +abruptly left the room. + +"Elizabeth," said he to his daughter, who was sitting by the parlor +fire, "go into the next room and remain with your aunt, and if +anything occurs summon me at once; and, John, saddle my horse quickly, +and ride over to Mrs. Caply and tell her to come over here." + +Mrs. Caply was the layer-out of the dead for the neighborhood. + +How tediously wore that dreary night away in the sickroom, where the +insensible child was watched by his mother and her friend! The +flickering taper, which both forgot to snuff, would fitfully flare up +and reveal the watchers, the bed, and the prostrate form of the pale, +stiff, motionless boy, with his eyes flared back with a fixed and +horrid stare. In the parlor, a party equally silent and gloomy kept +their vigil. Dr. Dulan, his son and the old woman, whose fearful +errand made her very presence a horror, formed the group. The old +woman at last, weary at holding her tongue so long, broke silence by +saying: "I always thought that child would never be raised, sir--he +was so smart and clever, and so dutiful to his ma. He was too good for +this world, sir. How long has he been sick, sir?" + +"Little more than a week; but I beg you will be silent, lest you +disturb them in the next room." + +"Yes, sir, certainly. Sick people ought to be kept quiet, though +perhaps that don't much matter when they are dying. Well, poor little +fellow; he was a pretty child, and will look lovely in his shroud and +cap, and----" + +"Hush!" exclaimed John Dulan, in a tone so stern that the woman was +constrained to be silent. + +Daylight was now peeping in at the windows. The doctor arose, put out +the candles, opened the shutters, stirred the fire, and went into the +next room. The widow was sitting in the same place, holding one of the +boy's hands between her own, her head bowed down upon it. The doctor +looked at the child; his eyes were now closed, as if in sleep. He laid +his hand upon his brow, and bending down, intently gazed upon him. The +child opened his eyes slowly. Passing quickly round the bed, the +doctor laid his hand upon the recumbent head and said: "Look up, +Hannah, your child is restored." With an ecstatic expression of +gratitude and joy, the mother started to her feet, and gazed upon her +boy. + +"Kiss me, mamma," said Willie, opening his gentle eyes, in which +beamed a quiet look of recognition and love. The mother kissed her +child repeatedly and fervently, while exclamations of profound +gratitude to Heaven escaped her. The doctor went to the window, and +threw open the shutters. The rising sun poured its light into the +room, and lit it up with splendor. + +I must transport you now, in imagination, over a few years of time +and a few miles of country, and take you into a splendid drawing-room, +in the handsome courthouse of the Delany's, which, you remember, I +described in the first part of this story, situated near the town of +Richmond. On a luxurious sofa, in this superb room, reclined a most +beautiful woman. Her golden hair divided above a high and classic +brow, fell, flashing and glittering, upon her white bosom like +sunbeams of snow. Her eyes--but who can describe those glorious eyes +of living sapphire? Sapphire! Compare her eloquent eyes to soulless +gems? Her eyes! Why, when their serious light was turned upon you, you +would feel spellbound, entranced, as by a strain of rich and solemn +music, and when their merry glance caught yours, you'd think there +could not be a grief or a sin on earth! But the greatest charm in that +fascinating countenance was the lips, small, full, red, their habitual +expression being that of heavenly serenity and goodness. + +Bending over the arm of the sofa, his head resting upon his hand, was +a young man; his eyes earnestly, anxiously, pleadingly fixed upon the +face of his companion, in whose ear, in a full, rich, and passionate +tone, he was pouring a tale of love, hopeless almost to despair. The +girl listened with a saddened countenance, and turning her large eyes, +humid with tears, upon his face, she spoke: + +"Richard, I am grieved beyond measure. Oh, cousin, I do not merit your +deep and earnest love. I am an ingrate! I do not return it." + +"Do you dislike me?" "Oh, no, no, no, indeed I do not--I esteem and +respect you; nay, more, I love you as a brother." + +"Then, dear, dearest Alice, since I am honored with your esteem, if +not blessed with your love, give me your hand--be my wife--and +ultimately perhaps----" + +"Horrible!" exclaimed the young girl, leaving the room abruptly. + +"What the d----l does that fool mean?" exclaimed Richard Delany, as +an angry flush passed over his face. "One would think I had insulted +her. Colonel Delany's penniless dependent should receive with more +humility, if not with more gratitude, an offer of marriage from his +heir. But I see how it is. She loves that beggarly Dulan--that +wretched usher. But, death--death to the poverty-stricken wretch, if +he presume to cross my path!" and the clenched fists, livid +complexion, and grinding teeth gave fearful testimony to the deadly +hatred that had sprung up in his bosom. + +At this moment Colonel Delany entered the room, and taking a seat, +said: + +"Richard, I have somewhat to say to you, and I wish you seriously to +attend. You know that I am your best, your most disinterested friend, +and that your welfare lies nearer to my heart than aught else earthly. +Well, I have observed, with much regret, the increased interest you +seem to take in your cousin--your passion for her, in fact. These +things are easily arrested in the commencement, and they must be +arrested. You can do it, and you must do it! I have other views for +you. Promise me, my son, that you will give up all thoughts of Alice." + +Richard, who had remained in deep thought during his father's address, +now looked up and replied: + +"But, my father, Alice is a very beautiful, very amiable, very +intellectual----" + +"Beggar!" + +"Father!" + +"Unbend that brow, sir! nor dare to address your parent in that +insolent tone! And now, sir, once for all, let us come to the point, +and understand each other perfectly. Should you persist in your +addresses to Alice, should you finally marry her, not a shilling, not +a penny of your father's wealth shall fall on an ungrateful son." + +Richard reflected profoundly a moment, and then replied: + +"Fear of the loss of wealth would not deter me from any step. But the +loss of my father would be an evil, I could never risk to encounter. I +will obey you, sir." + +"I am not satisfied," thought the old gentleman, as he left his son, +after a few more moments of conversation. "I am not satisfied. I will +watch them closely, and in the course of the day speak to Alice." + +An opportunity soon offered. He found himself alone with Alice, after +tea. + +"Alice," he commenced, "I wish to make a confidant of you;" and he +proceeded to unfold to her, at some length, his ambitious projects for +his son, and concluded by giving her to understand, pretty distinctly, +that he wished his son to select a wealthy bride, and that any other +one would never be received by him as his daughter. + +"I think I understand, although I cannot entirely sympathize with you, +my dear uncle," said Alice, in a low, trembling tone. "All this has +been said for my edification. That your mind may be perfectly at rest +on this subject, I must say what may be deemed presumptuous: I would +not, could not marry your son, either with or without your consent, or +under any circumstances whatever." + +"Alice! my dear Alice! How could you suppose I made any allusion to +you? Oh! Alice, Alice!" + +And the old man talked himself into a fit of remorse, sure enough. He +believed Alice, although he could not believe his son. The old +gentleman's uneasiness was not entirely dispelled; for, although Alice +might not now love Richard, yet time could make a great change in her +sentiments. + +Alice Raymond, the orphan niece of Colonel Delany, was the daughter +of an officer in the British army. Mr. Raymond was the youngest son of +an old, wealthy and haughty family in Dorsetshire, England. At a very +early age he married the youngest sister of Colonel Delany. Having +nothing but his pay, all the miseries of an improvident marriage fell +upon the young couple. The same hour that gave existence to Alice, +deprived her of her mother. The facilities to ambition offered by +America, and the hope of distracting his grief, induced Mr. Raymond to +dispose of his commission, and embark for the Western World. Another +object which, though the last named, was the first in deciding him to +cross the Atlantic. This object was to place his little Alice in the +arms of her maternal grandmother, the elder Mrs. Delany, then a widow, +and a resident under the roof of her son, Colonel Delany. A few weeks +after the sailing of the ship in which, with his infant daughter, Mr. +Raymond took passage, the smallpox broke out on board and he was one +of its earliest victims. + +With his dying breath he consigned Alice to the care of the captain of +the ship, a kind-hearted man, who undertook to convey the poor babe to +her grandmother. On the arrival of the infant at the mansion of +Colonel Delany, a new bereavement awaited her. Mrs. Delany, whose +health had been declining ever since her settlement in her new home, +was fast sinking to the grave. Colonel Delany, however, received the +orphan infant with the greatest tenderness. Sixteen years of +affectionate care had given him a father's place in the heart of +Alice, and a father's influence over her. Within the last year the +sunshine of Alice's life had been clouded. + +Richard Delany, the only son and heir of Colonel Delany, had been +sent to England at the age of fifteen to receive a college education. +After remaining eight years abroad, the last year of his absence being +spent in making the grand tour, he returned to his adopted country and +his father's house. He was soon attracted by the beauty and grace of +Alice. I say by her beauty and grace, because the moral and +intellectual worth of the young girl he had not the taste to admire, +even had he, at this early period of his acquaintance with her, an +opportunity to judge. The attentions of Richard Delany to his cousin +were not only extremely distressing to her, but highly displeasing to +his father, who had formed, as we have seen, the most ambitious +projects for his son. Richard Delany was not far wrong in his +conjecture concerning the young usher, who was no other than our old +friend William Dulan, little Willie, who had now grown to man's +estate, the circumstances of whose introduction to the Delany family I +must now proceed to explain. + +To pass briefly over the events of William Dulan's childhood and +youth. At the age of ten years he entered, as a pupil, the collegiate +school over which Dr. Dulan presided, where he remained until his +nineteenth year. It had been the wish of William Dulan and his mother +that he should take holy orders, and he was about to enter a course of +theological study under the direction of his uncle when an event +occurred which totally altered the plan of his life. This event was +the death of Dr. Dulan, his kind uncle and benefactor. All thoughts of +the church had now to be relinquished, and present employment, by +which to support his mother, to be sought. * * * It was twelve o'clock +at night, about three months after the death of Dr. Dulan. The mother +of William, by her hearth, still plied her needle, now the only means +of their support. Her son sat by her side, as of old. He had been +engaged some hours in reading to her. At length, throwing down the +book, he exclaimed: + +"Dearest, dearest mother, lay by that work. It shames my manhood, it +breaks my heart, to see you thus coining your very health and life +into pence for our support; while I! oh, mother, I feel like a human +vampire, preying upon your slender strength!" + +The widow looked into the face of her son, saw the distress, the +almost agony of his countenance, and, quickly folding up her work, +said gently: + +"I am not sewing so much from necessity, now, dear William, as because +I was not sleepy, being so much interested in your book." + +The morning succeeding this little scene, William, as was his wont, +arose early, and going into the parlor, made up the fire, hung the +kettle on, and was engaged in setting the room in order, when his +mother entered, who, observing his occupation, said: + +"Ever since your return from school, William, you have anticipated me +in this morning labor. You must now give it up, my son--I do not like +to see you perform these menial offices." + +"No service performed for my mother can be menial," said Willie, +giving her a fond smile. + +"My darling son!" + +After breakfast William took up his hat and went out. It was three +hours before he returned. His face was beaming with happiness, as he +held an open letter in his hand. + +"See, mother, dear, kind Providence has opened a way for us at last." + +"What is it, my son?" said the widow, anxiously. + +"Mr. Keene, you know, who left this neighborhood about three years +ago, went to ---- County and established a school, which has succeeded +admirably. He is in want of an assistant, and has written to me, +offering four hundred dollars a year for my services in his +institution." + +"And you will have to leave me, William!" + +These words escaped the widow, with a deep sigh, and without +reflection. She added in an instant, with assumed cheerfulness: + +"Yes, of course--so I would have you do." + +A month from this conversation William Dulan was established in his +new home, in the family of Mr. Keene, the principal of Bay Grove +Academy, near Richmond. + +The first meeting of William Dulan and Alice Raymond took place under +the following circumstances. On the arrival of Richard Delany at home, +his father, who kept up the good old customs of his English ancestors, +gave a dinner and ball in honor of his son's coming of age. All the +gentry of his own and the adjoining counties accepted invitations to +attend. Among the guests was William Dulan. He was presented to Miss +Raymond, the young hostess of the evening, by Mr. Keene. Young Dulan +was at first dazzled by the transcendent beauty of her face, and the +airy elegance of her form; then, won by the gentleness of her manners, +the elevation of her mind, and the purity of her heart. One ball in a +country neighborhood generally puts people in the humor of the thing, +and is frequently followed by many others. It was so in this instance, +and William Dulan and Alice Raymond met frequently in scenes of +gayety, where neither took an active part in the festivities. A more +intimate acquaintance produced a mutual and just estimation of each +other's character, and preference soon warmed into love. + +From the moment in which the jealous fears of Richard Delany were +aroused, he resolved to throw so much coldness and hauteur in his +manner toward that young gentleman as should banish him from the +house. This, however, did not effect the purpose for which it was +designed, and he finally determined to broach the subject to his +father. Old Colonel Delany, whose "optics" were so very "keen" to spy +out the danger of his son's forming a mesalliance, was stone blind +when such a misfortune threatened Alice, liked the young man very +much, and could see nothing out of the way in his attentions to his +niece, and finally refused to close his doors against him at his son's +instance. While this conversation was going on, the summer vacation +approached, and William made arrangements to spend them with his +mother. + +One morning William Dulan sat at his desk. His face was pale, his +spirits depressed. He loved Alice, oh! how madly. He could not forego +the pleasure of her society; yet how was all this to end? Long years +must elapse before, if ever, he could be in a situation to ask the +hand of Alice. With his head bowed upon his hand, he remained lost in +thought. + +"Mr. Dulan, may our class come up? We know our lessons," said a +youthful voice at his elbow. + +"Go to your seats, boys," said a rich, melodious, kind voice; "I wish +to have a few moments' conversation with Mr. Dulan," and Dr. Keene, +the principal, stood by his side. + +"My dear Dulan," said he, "you are depressed, but I bring you that +which will cheer your spirits. I have decided to give up my school +here into your sole charge if you will accept it. I have received, +through the influence of some of my political friends, a lucrative and +permanent appointment under the government, the nature of which I will +explain to you by and by. I think of closing my connection with this +school about the end of the next term. What say you? Will you be my +successor?" + +Dulan started to his feet, seized both the hands of his friend, +pressed them fervently, and would have thanked him, but utterance +failed. Dr. Keene insisted on his resuming his seat, and then added: + +"The income of the school amounts to twelve hundred dollars a year. +The schoolhouse, dwelling-house, with its outbuildings and numerous +improvements upon the premises, go into the bargain. Yes, Dulan, I +have known your secret long," said he, smiling good-humoredly, "and +sincerely, though silently, commiserated the difficulties of your +position; and I assure you, Dulan, that the greatest pleasure I felt +in receiving my appointment was in the opportunity it gave me of +making you and Alice happy. Stop, stop, Dulan, let me talk," laughed +Keene, as William opened a battery of gratitude upon him. "It is now +near the end of July. I should like to see you installed here on the +first of September. The August vacation will give you an opportunity +of making all your arrangements. I must now leave you to your labors." + +Every boy that asked to go out went out that day. Every boy that said +his task got praised, and every boy that missed his lesson got blamed. +The day was awfully tedious for all that, but evening came at last, +and the school was dismissed. William, after spending an unusually +long time in the "outward adorning," hastened with a joy-beaming +countenance to the home of his Alice. In the full flow of his joy he +was met by a sudden disappointment. The servant who met him at the +door informed him that Colonel Delany, Miss Raymond and Mr. Delany had +set off for Richmond, with the intention of staying a couple of weeks. +Crestfallen, William turned from the door. This was only a momentary +disappointment, however, and soon his spirits rose, and he joyfully +anticipated the time of the Delany's return. They were to be back in +time for the approaching examination and exhibition at Bay Grove +Academy; and in preparing his pupils for this event, William Dulan +found ample employment for his time and thoughts. I will not weary you +with a description of the exhibition. It passed off in that school +pretty much as it does in others. The Delanys, however, had not +returned in time to be present, nay, the very last day of William's +stay had dawned, yet they had not arrived. William had written to his +mother that he would be home on a stated day, and not even for the +delight of meeting the mistress of his heart, the period of whose +return was now uncertain, would he disappoint her. William was engaged +in packing his trunk, when Dr. Keene, again the harbinger of good +tidings, entered his room. + +"My dear Dulan," said he, "I have come to tell you that the Delanys +have arrived. You will have an opportunity of spending your last +evening with Alice." + +William shuffled his things into his trunk, pressed down the lid, +locked it, and, hastily bidding his friend good-evening, took his hat +and hurried from the house. Being arrived at Colonel Delany's, he was +shown into the drawing-room, and was delighted to find Alice its sole +occupant. The undisguised joy with which she received him left +scarcely a doubt upon his mind as to the reception of his intended +proposals. After a few mutual inquiries respecting health, friends, +and so forth, William took her white hand in his, and said, or +attempted to say--I know not what--it stuck in his throat--and he +remained merely silent, holding the hand of Alice. There is something +so extremely difficult about making a pre-meditated declaration of +love. It is much easier when it can be surprised from a man. William +knew the moments were very precious. He knew that Colonel Delany or +his son might be expected to enter at any moment, and there would be +an end of opportunity for a month or six weeks to come; yet there he +sat, holding her hand, the difficulty becoming greater every minute, +while the crimson cheek of Alice burned with a deeper blush. At length +footsteps approached. William heard them, and becoming alarmed, +hastily, hurriedly, but fervently and passionately exclaimed: + +"Alice, I love you with my whole heart, mind and strength. I love you +as we are commanded only to love God. Dearest Alice, will you become +my wife?" + +"Miss Raymond," said Richard Delany, entering at this moment, "my +father desires your presence instantly in his study on business of the +utmost moment to yourself. Mr. Dulan, I hope, will excuse me, as we +have but just arrived, and many matters crave my attention. +Good-evening, sir," and, bowing haughtily, he attended his cousin from +the room. William Dulan arose and took his hat to go. + +"Farewell, Mr. Dulan," said Alice, kindly, "if we should not meet +again before your departure." + +"Farewell, sweet Alice," murmured William Dulan as he left the house. + + * * * * * + +It was a glorious Sabbath morning early in August. The widow's +cottage gleamed in the dark bosom of the wood like a gem in the +tresses of beauty. Everything wore its brightest aspect. The windows +of the little parlor were open, and the songs of birds and the perfume +of flowers were wafted through them. But the little breakfast-table, +with its snowy cloth and its one plate, cup and saucer, looked almost +piteous from its solitude. Upon the clean white coverlet of the bed +sat the widow's little black bonnet and shawl, prayer-book, and clean +pocket handkerchief, folded with its sprig of lavender. It was +Communion Sunday, and the widow would not miss going to church on any +account. She dispatched her breakfast quickly--poor thing! she had not +much appetite. She had sat up half the night previous, awaiting the +arrival of William, but he had not come; and a man from the village +had informed her that the mail-stage had arrived on the night previous +without any passengers. As the stage would not pass again for a week, +the widow could not expect to see or hear from her son for that length +of time. After putting away her breakfast things, she donned her +bonnet and shawl, and, taking her prayer-book, opened the door to go +out. What a pleasant sight met her eyes. A neat one-horse carriage, or +rather cart, stood at the door--her son was just alighting from it. In +another instant he had clasped his mother in his arms. + +"Oh! my William! my William! I am so glad to see you," exclaimed the +delighted mother, bursting into tears. "Oh, but this is so joyful, so +unexpected, dear William! I looked for you, indeed, last night; but, +as you did not come, I gave you up, unwillingly enough, for a week. +But come in, darling; you've not breakfasted, I know." + +"No, dear mother, because I wished to breakfast with you; but let me +give something to the horse, first, and you sit in the door, dear +mother--I do not want to lose sight of you a moment, while waiting on +Rosinante." + +"Never mind, William, old Jake can do that. Here, Jake," said she, as +the old servant approached, "take charge of Master William's horse." +Then turning to William, she said: "John sends old Jake over every +morning to help me." + +"Ah! How are Cousins John and Elizabeth?" + +"Oh, very hearty. We shall see them this morning at church." + +"I did not come in the stage yesterday, mother," said William, as they +took their seats at the breakfast table, "because I had purchased this +light wagon and horse for you to ride to church in, and I came down in +it. I reached the river last night, but could not cross. The old +ferryman had gone to bed, and would not rise. Well, after breakfast, +dear mother, I shall have the pleasure of driving you to church in +your own carriage!" added William, smiling. + +"Ah! William, what a blessing you are to me, my dear son; but it must +have taken the whole of your quarter's salary to buy this for me?" And +she glanced, with pain, at his rusty and threadbare suit of black, and +at his napless hat. + +"Ah, mother, I was selfish after all, and deserve no credit, for I +laid the money out in the way which would give myself the most +pleasure. But, see, here is old Jake to tell us the carriage is ready. +Come, mother, I will hand you in, and as we go along I will unfold to +you some excellent news, which I am dying to deliver." So saying, he +placed his mother carefully in the little carriage, and seating +himself beside her drove off, leaving old Jake in charge of the house. + +"There is plenty of time, dear mother; so we will drive slowly, that +we may talk with more comfort." + +William then proceeded to relate, at large, all that had taken place +during his residence at Bay Grove--not omitting his love for Alice, of +whom he gave a glowing description; nor the bright prospects which the +kindness of Dr. Keene opened before him. Then he described the +beautiful dwelling which would become vacant on the removal of Dr. +Keene's family, which was expected to take place some time during the +coming autumn. To this dwelling, he intended to remove his mother, and +hoped to bear his bride. + +To all this the mother listened with grateful joy. At the church, +William Dulan met again his cousins, John and Elizabeth, who expressed +their delight at the meeting and insisted that William and his mother +should return with them to dinner. This, however, both mother and son +declined, as they wished to spend the day at home together. + +William Dulan spent a month with his mother, and when the moment +arrived that was to terminate his visit, he said to her: + +"Now, dear mother, cheer up! This parting is so much better than our +last parting. Now, I am going to prepare a beautiful home for you, and +when I come at Christmas, it will be for the purpose of carrying you +back with me." + +The widow gave her son a beaming look of love. + +With a "Heaven be with you, my dearest mother," and "God bless you, my +best son," they parted. They parted to meet no more on earth. + +Let us now return to the mansion of Colonel Delany, and learn the +nature of that "matter of the utmost moment to herself," that had +summoned Alice so inopportunely from the side of her lover. + + * * * * * + +On reaching the study of her uncle, Miss Raymond found him in deep +consultation with an elderly gentleman in black. Various packets of +papers were before him--an open letter was held in his hand. He arose +to meet Alice, as she advanced into the room, and taking her hand with +grave respect, said: + +"Lady Hilden, permit me to congratulate you on your accession to your +title and estates." + +"Sir! uncle!" exclaimed Alice, gazing at him with the utmost +astonishment, scarcely conscious whether she was waking or dreaming. + +"Yes, my dear, it is true. Your grandfather--old Lord +Hilden--departed this life on the sixth of last March. His only living +son survived him but a few weeks, and died without issue, and the +title and estates, with a rent-roll of eight thousand pounds per +annum, has descended, in right of your father, to yourself!" + +"I shall have so much to give to William!" involuntarily exclaimed +Alice. + +"Madam!" exclaimed Colonel Delany in surprise. + +Alice blushed violently at having thought aloud. "Dear sir," said she, +"I did not know what I was saying." + +"Ah, well, I suppose you are a little startled with this sudden news," +said the Colonel, smiling; "but now it is necessary for you to examine +with us some of these papers. Ah, I crave your pardon, Mr. +Reynard--Lady Hilden, this is Mr. Reynard, late solicitor to your +deceased grandfather, the Baron----" + +Great was the excitement in the neighborhood when it was noised abroad +that Alice Raymond had become a baroness, in her own right, and the +possessor of a large estate in England. And when, for the first time +since her accession to her new dignities, she appeared at church, in +deep mourning, every eye was turned upon her, and she almost sank +beneath the gaze of so many people. + +In the height of the "nine days' wonder," William Dulan returned, and +was greeted by the news from every quarter. + +"Oh, Alice--lost! lost! lost to me forever!" exclaimed he, in agony, +as he paced, with hurried strides, up and down the floor of his little +room. "Oh, my mother, if it were not for thee, I should pray that this +wretched heart of mine would soon be stilled in death." + +If any human being will look candidly upon the events of his own +life, and the history of his own heart, with a view to examine the +causes of suffering, he will be constrained to admit that by far the +greater portion of his miseries have originated in misapprehension, +and might have been easily prevented or cured by a little calm +investigation. It was so with William Dulan, who was at this moment +suffering the most acute agony of mind he ever felt in his life, from +a misconception, a doubt, which a ten minutes' walk to the house of +Colonel Delany, and a ten minutes' talk with Alice, would have +dissipated forever. + +If Richard Delany was anxious before to wed his cousin for love, he +was now half crazy to take that step by which both love and ambition +would be gratified to the utmost. + +He actually loved her ten times as much as formerly. The "beggar" was +beautiful, but the baroness was bewitching! Spurred on, then, he +determined to move heaven, earth and the other place, if necessary, to +accomplish his object. He beset Lady Hilden with the most earnest +prayers, and protestations, and entreaties, reminding her that he +loved and wooed her before the dawn of her prosperity, and appealed to +her for the disinterestedness of his passion. But all in vain. He even +besought his father to use his influence with Alice in his favor. +Colonel Delany, his objections being all now removed, urged his niece, +by her affection, by her compassion, and, finally, after some delicate +hesitation, by her gratitude, to accept the proffered hand of his son. +But Alice was steadfast in her rejection. + + "A change had come o'er the spirit of her dream!" + +Alas, alas! that a change of fortune should work such a change of +spirit! Alice Raymond was now Lady Hilden. Her once holy, loving, meek +blue eyes were now splendid with light and joy. Upon cheek and lip, +once so delicately blooming, now glanced and glowed a rich, bright +crimson. Her once softly falling step had become firm, elastic and +stately. "A peeress in my own right," was the thought that sent a +spasmodic joy to the heart of Alice. I am sorry she was not more +philosophical, more exalted, but I cannot help it, so it was; and if +Alice "put on airs," it must not be charged upon her biographer. + +Time sped on. A rumor of an approaching marriage between Mr. Richard +Delany and Lady Hilden was industriously circulated, and became the +general topic of conversation in the neighborhood. To avoid hearing it +talked of, William Dulan sedulously kept out of company. He had never +seen Alice since she became Lady Hilden. Dr. Keene had removed with +his family from Bay Grove, and the principal government and emolument +of the school had devolved upon young Dulan. The Christmas holidays +were at hand, and he resolved to take advantage of the opportunity +offered by them, to remove his mother to Bay Grove. On the last +evening of his stay, something in the circumstance brought back +forcibly to his mind his last conversation with Alice--that +conversation had also taken place on the eve of a journey; and the +association of ideas awakened, together with the belief that he would +never again have an opportunity of beholding her, irresistibly +impelled him to seek an interview with Alice. + +Twilight was fast fading into night. Lady Hilden stood alone, gazing +out from the window of her uncle's drawing-room. She had changed +again, since we saw her last. There was something of sorrow, or +bitterness, in the compressed or quivering lip. Her eye was bright as +ever, but it was the brightness of the icicle glancing in the winter +sun--it was soon quenched in tears, and as she gazed out upon the +gloomy mountain, naked forest, and frozen lake, she murmured: "I used +to love summer and day so much; now----" [A servant entered with +lights. "Take them away," said Alice. She was obeyed.]--"the dark soul +in the dark scene--there is almost repose in that harmony." + +"Mr. Dulan," said the servant, reappearing at the door, and Mr. +William Dulan followed the announcement. + +"You may bring in the light, now," said Alice. + +"Will Lady Hilden accept congratulations, offered at so late a +period?" said William Dulan, with a respectful bow. + +Alice, who had been startled out of her self-possession, replied only +by a bow. + +"I was about to leave this neighborhood for a short time; but could +not do so without calling to bid you farewell, fearing you might be +gone to England before I return." William Dulan's voice was beginning +to quiver. + +"I have no present intention of going to England." + +"No? Such a report is rife in the neighborhood." + +"One is not chargeable with the reports of the neighborhood." + +Alice said this in a peculiar tone, as she glanced at the +sorrow-stricken visage of the young man. + +A desultory conversation ensued, after which William Dulan arose to +take his leave, which he did in a choking, inaudible voice. As he +turned to leave the room, his ghastly face and unsteady step attested, +in language not to be misunderstood, the acuteness and intensity of +his suffering. Alice did not misunderstand it. She uttered one word, +in a low and trembling tone: + +"William!" + +He was at her side in an instant. A warm blush glowing over her bosom, +cheek and brow, her eyes were full of tears, as she raised them to his +face, eloquent with all a maiden may not speak. + +"Angel! I love! I adore thee!" exclaimed the youth, sinking at her +feet. + +"Love me, William, only love me, and let us both adore the Being who +hath given us to each other." + + * * * * * + +It was a cold night on the shores of the ice-bound Rappahannock. A +storm of wind and snow that had been fiercely raging all day long, at +length subsided. At a low cabin, which served the threefold purposes +of post-office, ferry-house and tavern, an old gray-haired man was +nodding over a smoldering fire. His slumbers were disturbed by the +blast of a stage horn and wheels of the coach, which soon stopped +before the door. + +Two travelers alighted and entered the cabin. The old ferryman arose +to receive them. + +"Any chance of crossing to-night, Uncle Ben?" inquired the younger +traveler. + +"He-he! hardly, Mr. William; the river has been closed for a week," +chuckling at the thought that he should be saved the trouble of taking +the coach across. + +"Oh, of course, I did not expect to go on the boat; I was thinking of +crossing on the ice." + +"I think that would scarcely be safe, Mr. William; the weather has +moderated a great deal since nightfall, and I rather think the ice may +be weak." + +"Pooh! nonsense! fiddle-de-dee!" exclaimed the other traveler, +testily; "do you think, old driveler, that a few hours of moderate +weather could weaken, effectually, the ice of a river that has been +hard frozen for a week? Why, at this moment a coach might be driven +across with perfect safety!" + +"I shouldn't like to try it, though, sir," said the driver, who +entered at this moment. + +"The gentleman can try it, if he likes," continued the old man, with a +grin, "but I do hopes Mr. Dulan won't." + +"Why, the ice will certainly bear a foot-passenger safely across," +smiled William Dulan. + +"I dare say it may; but, at any rate, I wouldn't try it, Master +William--'specially as it's a long, dark, slushy road between here and +the widow's." + +"Why, Uncle Ben, do you think I am a young chicken, to be killed by +wetting my feet?" asked William, laughing. "Besides, at this very +moment, my good mother is waiting for me, and has a blazing fire, a +pot of strong coffee, and a bowl of oysters, in readiness. I would not +disappoint her, or myself, for a good deal." + +"If it were not for this confounded lameness in my feet, I would not +stop at this vile hole to-night," said the elder traveler, who was no +other than Richard Delany, whom imperative business had called to this +part of the country, and who had thus become, very reluctantly, the +traveling companion of William Dulan. + +"Nobody asked you, sir," exclaimed the old man, who did not seek +popularity. + +William Dulan, who by this time had resumed his cloak, and received a +lighted lantern from the old ferryman, took his way to the river, +accompanied by the latter. Arrived at its edge, he turned, shook hands +with the old man, and stepped upon the ice. Old Ben remained, with his +eyes anxiously strained after the light of the lantern as it was borne +across the river. It was already half-way across--suddenly a breaking +sound, a fearful shriek, a quenched light, and all was dark and still +upon the surface of the ice; but beneath, a young, strong life was +battling fiercely with death. Ah! who can tell the horrors of that +frightful struggle in the dark, cold, ice-bound prison of the waters? + +The old man turned away, aghast with horror, and his eyes fell upon +the countenance of Richard Delany, which was now lit up with demoniac +joy, as he muttered between his teeth: + +"Good, good, good! Alice shall be mine now!" + + * * * * * + +It was night in the peaceful cottage of the widow. All the little +_agremens_ her son had pictured were there. A little round-table, +covered with a snowy cloth, stood in readiness. An easy-chair was +turned with its back to the fire, and on it a dressing-gown, and +before it lay a pair of soft, warm slippers. The restless, joyous, +anxious mother was reading over, for the twentieth time, her son's +last letter, in which he promised to be home, punctually, on that +evening. Hours flew on, but he did not come. At length, one o'clock +struck, and startled the widow from her meditative posture. "I must go +to bed--I must not look pale with watching, to-morrow, and alarm my +good son. It is just as it was before--he cannot get across the river +to-night. I shall see him early to-morrow." Removing the things from +about the fire, and setting the room in the nicest order, the widow +retired to bed. + +She rose early in the morning, to prepare a good breakfast for her +son. "He shall have buckwheat cakes this morning; he is so fond of +them," said she, as she busied herself in preparation. + +Everything was in readiness, yet William came not. The morning passed +on. The mother grew impatient. + +"It is certainly high time he was here now," said she; "I will go +through the woods, toward the high-road, and see if he is coming," and +putting on her bonnet and shawl, she set out. She had just entered the +wood when two advancing figures caught her attention. The path was so +narrow that they were walking one behind the other. + +"Ah! there he is--and John Dulan is with him," exclaimed the mother as +they drew near. + +The foremost man was indeed John Dulan, who held out his hand as they +met. + +"Ah! how do you do, John? How do you do? This is so kind of you! But, +stand aside--excuse me--I want to see that youth behind you!" and the +widow brushed past him, and caught to her bosom--old Ben, the +ferryman. + +"My gracious! I thought you were my son! Dear me, how absurd!" +exclaimed the widow, releasing him. + +"Let us go on to the cottage, aunt," said John Dulan, sadly. + +"Yes, do. I am looking every minute for William. Oh, you can tell me, +Uncle Ben--did he reach the ferry last night?" + +"Yes, madam," groaned the old man. + +"Why, you alarm me! Why didn't he come home, then?" + +"He did try--he did try! I begged him not to--but he would! Oh, dear! +oh, dear!" + +"Why, what in Heaven's name is the matter? What has happened? Is my +son ill?" + +"Tell her, Mr. Dulan--tell her! I could not, to save my life!" + +The widow turned very pale. + +"Where is William? Where is my son? Is he ill? Is he ill?" + +"My dearest aunt, do try to compose yourself!" said John Dulan, in a +trembling voice. + +"Where is my son? Where is he?" + +"You cannot see him to-day----" + +"Yet he was at the ferry-house last night! Great God! it cannot be!" +cried the mother, suddenly growing very pale and faint, "Oh, no! +Merciful Providence--such sorrow cannot be in store for me? He is +not----" + +She could not finish the sentence, but turned a look of agonizing +inquiry on John Dulan. He did not speak. + +"Answer! answer! answer!" almost screamed the mother. + +John Dulan turned away. + +"Is my son--is my son--dead?" + +"He is in heaven, I trust," sobbed John. + +A shriek, the most wild, shrill and unearthly that ever came from the +death-throe of a breaking heart, arose upon the air, and echoed +through the woods, and the widow sunk, fainting, to the ground. They +raised her up--the blood was flowing in torrents from her mouth. They +bore her to the house, and laid her on the bed. John Dulan watched +beside her, while the old man hastened to procure assistance. + +The life of the widow was despaired of for many weeks. She recovered +from one fit of insensibility, only to relapse into another. At +length, however, she was pronounced out of danger. But the white hair, +silvered within the last few weeks, the strained eyes, contracted brow +and shuddering form, marked the presence of a scathing sorrow. + +One day, while lying in this state, a traveling carriage drew up +before the door, and a young, fair girl, clad in deep mourning, +alighted and entered. Elizabeth, who was watching beside her, stooped +down and whispered very low: + +"The betrothed bride of your son." + +The young girl approached the bed, and, taking the hand of the +sufferer, exclaimed: "Mother, mother, you are not alone in your +sorrow! I have come to live or die by you, as my strength may serve!" + +The widow opened her arms and received her in an embrace. They wept. +The first blessed tears that had relieved the burdened heart of either +were shed together. + +Alice never left her. When the widow was sufficiently recovered, they +went to England. The best years of the life of Alice were spent in +soothing the declining days of William Dulan's mother. The face of +Alice was the last object her eyes rested on in life; and the hands of +Alice closed them in death. + +Alice never married, but spent the remainder of her life in +ministering to the suffering poor around her. + +I neglected to mention that, during the illness of Mrs. Dulan, the +body of her son was found, and interred in this spot, by the request +of his mother. + +"What becomes of the moral?" you will say. + +I have told you a true story. Had I created these beings from +imagination, I should also have judged them--punished the bad and +rewarded the good. But these people actually lived, moved, and had +their being in the real world, and have now gone to render in their +account to their Divine Creator and Judge. The case of Good _versus_ +Evil, comes on in another world, at another tribunal, and, no doubt, +will be equitably adjudged. + + * * * * * + +As I fear my readers may be dying to know what farther became of +our cheery set of travelers, I may, on some future occasion, gratify +their laudable desire after knowledge; only informing them at present +that we did reach our destination at ten o'clock that night, in +safety, although it was very dark when we passed down the dreaded +Gibbet Hill and forded the dismal Bloody Run Swamp. That Aunt Peggy's +cap was not mashed by Uncle Clive's hat, and that Miss Christine did +not put her feet into Cousin Kitty's bandbox, to the demolition of her +bonnet; but that both bonnet and cap survived to grace the heads of +their respective proprietors. The only mishap that occurred, dear +reader, befell your obsequious servitor, who went to bed with a sick +headache, caused really by her acute sympathy with the misfortunes of +the hero and heroine of our aunt's story, but which Miss Christine +grossly attributed to a hearty supper of oysters and soft crabs, eaten +at twelve o'clock at night, which, of course, you and I know, had +nothing at all to do with it. + +[Illustration] + +[Illustration] + + * * * * * + + +TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES: + +1. Obvious printer's errors have been corrected without comment. + +2. Text which was in italics in the original is surrounded by '_'. + +3. The stories in the original scans had page numbers in three blocks. + + The Rector of St. Marks pages numbered 1-131 + + Aunt Henrietta's Mistake } + False and True Love } + In the Hospital } pages numbered 171-243 + Earnest and True } + Memorable Thanksgiving Days } + + + The Irish Refugee pages numbered 166-212 + + This version reflects the order of the images from the digital + library, and has not been checked against a physical copy of any + edition. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Rector of St. Mark's, by Mary J. Holmes + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RECTOR OF ST. 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