THE
gjutpl and % gpfltt:
A TALE OF MODERN SPIRITUALISM.
By T. S. ARTHUR.
G. G. EVAN S,
439 CHESTNUT STREET, PHILADELPHIA.
1 8 5 8.


36//
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1858, by
J. W. BRADLEY,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Eastern
District of Pennsylvania.
BTEREOTTPED BY L. JOHNSON k CO.
PHILADELPHIA.
PHILADELPHIA:
PBTKTKD BY KINO & HAIKU,
607 8AX80X STREET.


PREFACE.
Thb title at first chosen for this book was
"The Young Governess;" but the one it now
bears more clearly expresses its scope and mean-
ing. The author regards Modern Spiritualism, as
it is called, as a phase of Demonology, using the
word in its bad sense; and classes it with witch-
craft, necromancy, and like disorderly influences.
So believing, he has written from that stand-point
in the case. There will, of course, be plenty to
reject his view,—to be angry and to denounce.
But wiser ones will approve, and many, he trusts,
be warned in time to escape the sad consequences
which are sure to follow any enthralment of the
will made free by God.





CONTENTS.
IMI
Chap. I.—the young governess 9
II.—GAINING INFLUENCE 21
III. —TRIALS 32
IV. —WORTH AND PRETENSION 40
V.—THE WIND AND THE SUN 48
VL—THE GOVERNESS DISMISSED 60
VII.—A REVELATION 71
VIII.—THE NEW GOVERNESS 82
IX.—THE SHADOW OF EVIL 91
X.—A LITTLE BREEZE 101
XI.—THE DEMON UNVEILED 108
XII.—A FEARFUL MYSTERT 119
XIII.—DOUBT AND ANXIETY 127
XIY.—PAINFUL CONSEQUENCES 138
XV.—ALARMING OCCURRENCE 150
XVI.—DISAPPEARANCE OF MADELINE 158
7


8 CONTENTS.
MM
Chap. XVII.—the search 165
XVIII.—A NEST OF PSUED0-SPIRITUALIST8 189
XIX.—THE BIRD AND THE SERPENT 204
XX.—THE RE8CUE 215
XXL—<THE ARREST 223
XXII.—BREAKING THE SPELL 236
XXIII. —THE ANOEL STRONGER THAN THE DEMON 245
XXIV. —AN UNEXPECTED REVELATION 269
XXV.—A REVELATION 278
XXVI.—REVIEWING THE MATTER 287
XXVII. GETTING RIGHT 298
XXVIII.—CONCLUSION 304


the
ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
CHAPTER L
THE YOUNG GOVERNESS.
Mrs. Dainty's health was poor, and her nerves
delicate. It was no use, she said: the wear and
tear of body and mind were more than she could
stand. She must have a governess for the children.
Mr. Dainty never opposed his wife in any thing,
and so replied,—
"Very well, Madeline. Find your governess."
But Uncle John—Uncle Johns, by-the-way, if
they happen to be on the mother's side, android
bachelors at that, are proverbially inclined to inter-
fere with the home-management of their nieces—
had, as usual, a word to say after he was alone with
Mrs. Dainty.
"Don't have any thing of the kind," said he. "Be
governess to your own children."
"But I'm not equal to the task. It will kill me.
9


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
11
were set forth at large. She must speak French
with the true Parisian accent, and be able to teach
that language; her knowledge of music must be
thorough; she must be perfect in drawing and
painting; her manners must be ladylike, her tastes
refined: in a word, she must possess all the high
accomplishments necessary to educate the children
of a fashionable mother who was "in society." She
would greatly prefer a Frenchwoman.
At last she heard of a "French lady," the daughter
of a French count of the old regime, who was de-
sirous of procuring the situation of governess in a
family of "good standing." An interview with this
lady was held in the presence of Uncle John, who
took occasion to ask her some questions about
Paris, where he had spent several years. The stately
manner and superior air which she assumed at the
commencement of the interview gradually gave
way under these questions, until madame showed
considerable embarrassment.
"Your face is very familiar to me," said Uncle
John, finally. "I am sure I must have met you in
Paris."
"Monsieur is undoubtedly mistaken," said the
lady, with returning dignity.
"Perhaps so," replied Uncle John; Then, in a
more serious voice, he added, "But one thing is


12
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
certain: you do not possess the qualifications desired
in the governess of my nieces."
The "French lady" offered no remonstrance, and
asked for no explanations, but, with a flushed face,
arose and petired.
"Better keep clear of counts' daughters," said
Uncle John, as the applicant withdrew. "If you
will have a governess for the children, procure one
born and bred so near at home that you can readily
learn all about her."
Mrs. Dainty, who was particularly attracted by
the appearance of the French lady, was not alto-
gether pleased with Uncle John's summary mode
of despatching her, though a little startled at the
idea of getting an impostor in her house.
What next was to be done ?" Suppose we adver-
tise?" said Mrs. Dainty.
"And have your bell-wire broken before ten
o'clock the next morning," replied Uncle John.
"Take my advice, and wait a few days."
"What good will waiting do? Unless we take
some steps in the direction we wish to go, we shall
never arrive at the end of our journey."
"Good steps have been taken," said Uncle John,
cheerfully. "You have already made known to
quite a number of your friends that you want a
governess. The fact will not die; many will re-


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
13
member and speak of it, and somebody will happen
to think of somebody who will just suit you."
So Mrs. Dainty concluded to wait a few days, and
see what time would bring forth.
On the third morning after the interview with the
Trench count's daughter, as Mr. and Mrs. Dainty
and Uncle John sat talking together on the gover-
ness-question, the waiter opened the door, and said
that a young woman wished to speak with Mrs.
Dainty.
"Who is she, and what does she want?" inquired
Mrs. Dainty, with an air of indifference, stroking
the head of her King Charles spaniel, which, instead
of her baby, occupied a comfortable position in
her lap.
The servant went down to gain what information
he could from the visitor touching her business
with Mrs. Dainty, and returned with the informa-
tion that she was an applicant for the situation of
governess in the family, having been informed that
the lady wanted a person in that capacity.
"Tell her to come up," said Mrs. Dainty. "I
wonder who she can be?" was added, as the servant
withdrew.
Uncle John sat with his chin resting on the head
of his cane, apparently so much engaged with his
2


14
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
own thoughts as to be unconscious of what was
passing.
In a few minutes the door reopened, and a young
woman in plain attire, and of modest, almost timid
aspect, entered. Mr. Dainty was standing with his
back to the fire; Mrs. Dainty sat in her morning
wrapper, with the King Charles spaniel still in com-
fortable quarters; and Uncle John remained in the
same position, not stirring as the girl entered.
"Take a chair," said Mrs. Dainty, with that super-
cilious indifference which imagined superiority often
puts on toward imagined inferiors.
The girl flushed, trembled, and sat down, letting
her eyes fall to the floor.
"What is your name?" asked Mrs. Dainty.
"Florence Harper," replied the girl.
"Where do you live?"
"At No. — Elwood Street."
"With whom?"
"My aunt."
"Are your father and mother living?"
"No, ma'am." Even Mrs. Dainty felt the sadness
with which this reply was made.
"I am in want of a governess for my children,"
said Mrs. Dainty, coldly; "but I hardly think you
will suit."
The young girl arose at once.


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
15
"Sit down." Mrs. Dainty spoke with a slight im-
patience. The visitor resumed her chair, while Mr.
Dainty kept his place before the fire, with his eyes
fixed upon her curiously.
"Do you speak French?" inquired Mrs. Dainty.
"Yes, ma'am."
"What French school did you attend?"
"I was with Mr. Picot for six years."
"Indeed!" There was a new interest in Mrs.
Dainty's voice.
",How is it in regard to your musical qualifica-
tions?" she continued.
"I will satisfy you, madam," said the applicant,
in a quiet but firm and dignified manner, "in re-
gard to my ability to teach the various branches
of a polite education, by references, if you desire
them."
"Oh, certainly! I shall expect references, of
course. You don't imagine that I would take an
entire stranger into my house without the most
rigid inquiries touching her character?"
Miss Harper arose.
"Do you wish," said she, "to make any inquiries
about me? Or have you concluded that I will not
suit you?" »v
"You can leave your references," replied Mrs.
Dainty.


16
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
The names of two ladies were given. Mrs. Dainty
had no acquaintance with them, but she knew their
standing.
"That will do," she replied.
"Shall I call again, or will you send me word if
you desire to see me," said the young girl.
"You may call." Mrs. Dainty spoke in a very
indifferent manner.
The visitor retired.
"I don't like her," said Mrs. Dainty.
"Why not?" inquired Uncle John, lifting, for the
first time, his chin from the head of his cane.
"Too plebeian," said Mrs. Dainty.
"Nothing but a countess will do for your young
hopefuls," retorted Uncle John. "Plebeian! There
is the air of a lady in every movement. Take my
advice, and learn all you can about her; and I'm
mistaken if you don't at once secure her ser-
vices."
Mrs. Dainty's heart was set on having a governess;
and, as no better opportunity offered for procuring
one, she made inquiries about Miss Harper, and re-
ceived encouraging information. A family council,
consisting of herself, husband, and Uncle John, de-
cided in the affirmative on the question of engaging
the young lady, who, as she did not return to know
whether her services would be desired or not, was


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON. 17
sent for. Terms, duties, and the like being dis-
cussed and settled, Miss Harper, with many mis-
givings and strong reluctance, assumed the difficult
and responsible position of governess in,the family
of Mrs. Dainty.
Three children were placed under her care:
Agnes, the eldest daughter, now in her fourteenth
year; Madeline, the second, eleven years old; and
George, in his sixth summer. Many unwise re-
marks had been made about the young girl in the
presence of the children; and when she assumed,
formally, the charge of them, she perceived at a
glance that they held her in contempt, and were
not in the least inclined to obey her authority.
The first day's trials were severe enough. Mrs.
Dainty, in whose mind there was a foregone con-
clusion adverse to the young governess, made it her
business to be present with her for some hours
while giving her introductory lessons to the chil-
dren, or, rather, while making her first efforts to
dive into their minds and see what had already
been stored away. The mother did not act very
wisely during the time; for she was not a very wise
woman. Could she have seen the image of herself
as it was pictured in the mind of Miss Harper, she
would not have felt very much flattered. A small
portion of light entered the region of perception
B 2*


18
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
once or twice, the way being opened by a quiet
answer to some remark that broadly displayed her
ignorance. One result followed this rather meddle-
some interference on the part of Mrs. Dainty. Her
respect for the young governess was materially
heightened.
On the second day, Miss Harper was left in the
undisturbed charge of her young pupils, and she
had a better opportunity for studying their natures.
Agnes, the oldest, she found to be indolent, proud,
and quite ready to imitate the example of her
mother in disrespectful conduct toward herself.
Madeline was of a gentler, more loving, and more
obedient disposition; while George was a rude,
well-spoiled specimen of a boy who showed no in-
clination whatever to come under even the mildest
discipline.
"She'll never do any thing with them," said Mrs.
Dainty, in a confident manner, as she sat alone
with her husband and Uncle John, on the evening
of the first day, and talked over the new arrange-
ment.
"Why do you think so?" asked Uncle John.
"She's too young and inexperienced. She hasn't
character enough. Agnes is almost as much of a
woman as she is."
"Don't be too sure of that," said Uncle John.


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
19'
"Agnes will have to live very fast if she ever over-
takes Miss Harper."
"She's rather an indifferent-looking personage,"
remarked Mr. Dainty,, in a careless way, "and
hasn't stuff enough in her for the management of
three such spirited children as ours."
Uncle John smiled.
"You are quite taken with her," said his niece.
'I haven't had much time for observation," re-
plied Uncle John; "but the little I have seen im-
presses me favorably. Beneath that modest, quiet,
almost timid exterior, there lies, if I am not mis-
taken, far more reserved power than you imagine.
Give her a fair chance, second her efforts in every
attempt she makes to bring the children into order
and subordination, and particularly refrain from
the slightest word in their presence that will lower
her in their respectful regard."
Mrs. Dainty saw, from the last remark, that she
had erred in a very thoughtless way; and her
cheeks burned a little when Uncle John added,—
"I have heard something of Miss Harper's history
from a lady friend, who represents her as a very
superior girl, and says that she was raised in a circle
of refined and highly-intelligent people."
"Oh, well, we can give her a trial. Perhaps she
will do," replied Mrs. Dainty, in a languid manner.


20
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
"I'm glad she has been raised among refined people.
My greatest fear was that she would impart vulgar
manners to the children."
"I don't think she can do them any harm."
Uncle John spoke a little ironically.
"I hope not," said Mrs. Dainty, seriously; and
the subject, not taking a turn that was agreeable to
her, dropped of its own weight.
We shall see, in another chapter, some of the re-
sults of this new arrangement in the home of the
fashionable mother.


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
21
CHAPTER n.
GAINING INFLUENCE.
Having procured a governess for the children,—
even if she were not all that was expected in the
individual who was to fill so important a place,—
our fashionable mother felt a weight of care re-
moved from her shoulders. She could now go out
when she pleased, and stay as long as she pleased,
and not suffer from the troublesome consciousness
that she was neglecting her children,—a species of
dereliction that never escaped the watchful eyes of
Uncle John, who had no hesitation about speaking
plainly.
Miss Harper's experiences with the children on
the first and second days were not very encouraging;
and this was particularly so in the case of Agnes,
whose conduct toward her was exceedingly offensive.
On the third morning, this young lady positively
refused to give her French recitation at the time
required by Miss Harper, declaring that it was her
wish to take a music-lesson. She had overheard
her mother and Uncle John conversing on the sub-


22
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
ject of Miss Harper's authority over the children,
on which occasion Mrs. Dainty had said,—
"I will have no iron rule with Agnes. Miss
Harper must treat her with that respectful con-
sideration to which a young lady in her position is
entitled. There must be no petty domineering; no
ordering with upstart authority; no laying down of
law."
"Do you expect to be always present with Miss
Harper in the school-room?" Uncle John asked
quietly, as if he was really in earnest.
"Of course not! What a preposterous idea!"
replied Mrs. Dainty.
"Then Miss Harper must have authority in your
absence." Uncle John spoke very decidedly.
"Agnes will never submit to any authority from
her."
"Why not from her, pray?"
"Because Agnes has reached an age when she
can comprehend the wide difference between their
respective stations. She is almost a young lady."
"You are a weak woman, Madeline," said Uncle
John,—" a very weak woman, and I am almost out
of patience with you. Now, do you wish to know,
plainly, how I regard this matter?"
"Not particularly." Mrs. Dainty gaped as she
spoke.


24
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
a kind of fascination. It was not anger, nor re-
buke, nor sternness, but the quiet power of a su-
perior mind over that of an inferior. Agnes tried
to withdraw her gaze, but it seemed impossible to
do so. A strange feeling of respect, almost awe,
came stealing into her heart and repressing her
dominant selfhood. When Miss Harper withdrew
her steady gaze, Agnes almost caught her breath, so
marked was the sense of relief that followed.
"Madeline dear," said Miss Harper, in a cheerful,
pleasant voice, speaking to the younger sister,
"shall I hear you read now?"
Madeline came smiling to her side, and, lifting
her book to her face, read the lesson which had
been given to her.
"Very well done! You are improving already."
Miss Harper spoke so encouragingly that Madeline
looked up into her kind face, and said, without
thinking of the place and the occasion, "Thank
you!" The young governess had already opened a
way into her heart.
'"Now, Agnes," said Miss Harper, "if you are
ready with your French lesson, I will hear it." She
spoke kindly and cheerfully, fixing her eyes at the"
same time steadily upon her, and with the same
look of quiet power which had subdued her a little
while before.


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
25
"I would rather take my music-lesson first."
Agnes could not yield without a show of resistance.
Something was due to pride. »
"The hours of study were fixed in consultation
with your mother," said Miss Harper, mildly; "and
it is my duty as well as yours to act in conformity
therewith."
"Oh, mother won't care!" Agnes spoke with
animation. "If I prefer this hour to twelve it will
be all the same to her."
"Your mother don't care for her word, Agnes?"
Miss Harper spoke in a tone of surprise.
"I didn't mean that," was answered, with some
little confusion of manner. "I only meant that if
she knew I preferred one time to another she would
not hesitate to gratify my wishes."
"Very well. We will consult her this evening,"
said Miss Harper. "And if she consents to a new
arrangement of the study-hours I will make no ob-
jection. But at present both you and I are bound
to observe existing rules. I have no power to
change them if I would. So, come up to the line
cheerfully, to-day, and to-morrow we will both be
governed by your mother's decision."
Agnes was subdued. Without a sign of hesita-
tion she went on with her lesson in French, and
said it all the better for this little contention,
3


26
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
through which she came with an entirely new im-
pression of Miss Harper.
When the young teacher came to George, this
little reprobate would do nothing that was required
of him. His book he had, from the commence-
ment of the school-hours, refused to open; replying
to every request of Miss Harper to do so with a
sullen, "A'n't a-going to."
"Now, George, you will say your lesson," said
Miss Harper, in a pleasant tone.
"A'n't a-going to," replied the little fellow, pout-
ing out his lips, and scowling from beneath his knit
brows.
"Oh, yes; George will say his lesson."
"A'n't a-going to."
"Oh, yes, Georgie," said Agnes, now coming to
the aid of Miss Harper. "Say your lesson."
"A'n't a-going to." His lips stuck out farther,
and his brow came lower over his eyes.
"Come, Georgie, do say your lesson," urged
Agnes.
"A'n't a-going to." The resolute will of the
child had no other expression.
"I'll tell mother," said Agnes.
"Don't care! Tell her! You wouldn't say your
lesson."
"Oh, yes, Georgie, Agnes did say her lesson


THE ANGEL AND TUE DEMON.
27
like a good girl; and so did Madeline." Miss
Harper showed not the least excitement. He#
voice was calm and her manner even. "Now say
yours."
"A'n't a-going to." The persistent little rebel
had no idea of capitulation.
"I knew a little boy once"
There was such a pleasant, story-telling tone in
the voice of Miss Harper that George was betrayed
into looking up into her face, when she fixed his eye
as she had, not long before, fixed the eye of his self-
wifled sister.
"I knew a little boy once," she repeated, "who
had no mother. Before he was as old as you are
now, his mother died and went to heaven. Poor,
dear little fellow! it was a sad day for him when
his good mother died and left him to the care of
strangers."
George was all attention. Already the unpleasant
lines of frowning disobedience were fading from his
childish countenance, and a gentle, earnest look
coming into his eyes.
"After this little boy's mother died," went on the
governess, "there was nobody in the house to love
him as she had done. His father was absent all
day, and very often did not get home in the even-
ing until poor little Willy was fast asleep in bed.


28 THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
As it would not do to leave Willy alone with the
•cook and chambermaid, his father got a governess,
who was to have the care of him and teach him all
his lessons. Now, it so happened that this gover-
ness was not kind aud good as Willy's mother had
been, but was selfish and cruel. She gave him
long, hard lessons, and if he did not get them—
which he often could not—would punish him
cruelly; sometimes by shutting him up in a dark
closet, sometimes by making him go without eat-
ing, and sometimes by whipping him. And all the
while she managed to make Willy's father believe
that she was kind and good to him.
"Poor little Willy! He grew pale and sad-
looking, and no wonder. I was at the house one
day"
"Oh, Miss Harper! Did you know him?" said
George, with a countenance full of interest.
"Yes, dear, I knew little Willy; and I knew his
mother before she died. As I was just saying, I
called one day at the house, a few months after
his mother was taken away from him; and, as the
servant opened the door for me, I heard the voice
of Willy, and he was crying bitterly. All at
once the voice was hushed to a low, smothered
sound.
"'What is the matter with Willy?' I asked; and


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
20
the servant answered that she supposed the go-
verness was putting him into the dark closet again.
In an instant there seemed to stand before me the
child's dead mother, and she pointed upward with
her finger. I did not stop to think, but ran up-
stairs into the nursery, where I found the go-
verness sitting by the window with a book in her
hand.
"'Where's Willy?' I demanded. She started,
and looked very much surprised and a little angry.
But I was in earnest.
"'Where's Willy?' I repeated my question more
sternly. As she did not stir, I went quickly across
the room and opened a closet door, which I found
locked, with the key on the outside. There, lying
on his face, was the dear child. I took him up in
my arms and turned his face to the light. It was
pale as marble. I thought he was dead.
"'Bring me some water,' I called, in a loud,
quick voice. The frightened governess fled from
the room, but soon returned with water. I threw
it into the dear child's face, and rubbed his
hands and feet. In a few minutes, he began to
breathe.
"'Give him to me, now,' said the governess, en-
deavoring to lift him from my arms. But I said,
* No; cruel woman!' She looked angry, but I was
8*


30
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
not moved. 'Untie my bonnet-strings,' I spoke to
the chambermaid; and the girl took off my
bonnet.
"*' 'Jenny,' said I to the chambermaid,—I knew
her name,—'Jenny, I want you to go for Willy's
father.'
"Jenny did not hesitate a minute. 'There's no
use in sending for his father,' said the governess.
But we didn't mind what she said. When Willy's
father came, she was gone. He was very much dis-
tressed when he saw his dear little boy, and very
angry when I told him about the dark closet. After
that I became Willy's nurse and teacher. But he
did not stay with us very long. The angels came
for him one lovely summer evening, and bore him
up to the heavenly land; and he is now happy again
With his mother."
Tears came into the eyes of all the children when
Florence Harper ceased speaking. She had found
the way to their hearts, and, not only this, had lifted
for them just so much of the veil that concealed her
true character as to let them see enough to win
something of love and something of respectful con-
sideration.
The book was still in the hand of George, and, as
he let his eyes fall from the face of Miss Harper,


THE ANGEL AND TI1E DEMON.
31
they rested on the open page. Nothing was said by
the latter. A few moments of silence passed, and
then George, in a low but rather earnest voice, said
over his lesson.
The young governess had conquered. /_


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
33
looked her real character for the time. She was a
superior, commanding an inferior, with a complete
consciousness of the gulf that stretched between
them. Her manner, even more than her words, was
offensive to the young governess, whose native in-
dependence and self-respect impelled her at once to
resign her position and leave the house.
"George; Madeline." She spoke quietly,—almost
indifferently. ,
"Why don't you call them as if you had some
life in you?" exclaimed Mrs. Dainty, losing all
patience.
Miss Harper turned away without a word, and
went up-stairs, intending to put on her bonnet and
leave the house. Near her room-door she met Uncle
John, who had overheard the offensive language
of his niece. He saw that the young girl's face
wore an indignant flush, and that both lips and eyes
indicated a settled purpose.
"What are you going to do?" he asked, letting
her see by look and tone that he understood her
feelings.
"I am going away from here," she replied, firmly.
"You must not do it," said Uncle John.
"Self-respect will not permit me to remain," an-
swered Florence.
"Feeling must yield to duty, my dear young
c


34
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
lady," said Uncle John, with an earnestness that
showed how much he was interested.
"My duty' is not here," was the slowly-spoken
answer.
"Our duty is where we can do the most good. I
know something of your morning's trials and wise
discipline. You have done nobly, Florence,—nobly.
There is good in these children, and you must bring
,it forth to the light."
"I am but human," said Florence, with a quiver-
ing lip.
"You are gold in the crucible," replied Uncle
John. "The fire may be very hot, my dear young
friend; but it will leave no mark upon your real
character. It is not every spirit that has a quality
pure enough to meet life's higher ordeals. Xo, no:
shrink not from the trials in your way. The lions
are chained, and can only growl and shake at you
their terrible manes. Go back for the children.
For their sakes, draw them to yourself with the
singular power you possess. Be to them all their
mother fails to be. And always regard me as your
friend and advocate."
Uncle John left her and went back to his own
room. A few moments Florence stood irresolute.
Then, stepping to the head of the stairs, she called,
to George, who was pounding at his mother's door.


THE ANOEL AND THE DEMON. 35
Mrs. Dainty had re-entered her chamber and locked
it against the children. The child did not heed her
in the least. Going down to him, and taking his
hand, which the stubborn little fellow tried to pre-
vent her from doing, she said, in a voice that was
very kind, and in a tone full of interest,—
"George, dear, did I ever show you my book of
pictures?"
Instantly the firm, resisting hand lay passively in
hers; though he neither looked up nor answered.
"It is full of the sweetest pictures you ever saw,—■
birds, and sheep, and horses; children playing in
the woods; and ducks and geese swimming in the
water."
"Won't you show them to me?" said the child,
turning to his young teacher, and half forgetting,
already, in the pleasing images she had created in
his thoughts, his angry disappointment in being
thrust from his mother's room.
"Yes; and you shall look at them just as long as
you please," answered Florence.
Madeline had thrown herself upon the passage-
floor in a stubborn fit. Her mother's discipline in
the case, if the child had remained there until she
came from her chamber, would have been to jerk
her up passionately, and, while passion remained in
the rapidly-acquired ascendant, inflict upon her


36
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
from two to half a dozen blows with, her hand.
Wild, angry screams would have followed; and
then the repentant mother would have soothed her
child with promised favors.
"Madeline must see them also," said Miss Harper,
pausing and stooping over the unhappy little girl.
"Don't you want to see my picture scrap-book?"
She spoke very cheerfully.
"Oh, yes, Madeline! Do come! Miss Harper is
going to show us a book full of such beautiful
pictures."
The voice of George went home. Madeline arose
to her feet. Taking, each, a hand of their gover-
ness, the two children went with light feet up to her
room, and in her book of pictures soon lost all
marks of their recent unhappy disturbance.
Mrs. Dainty appeared at the dinner-table in a bad
humor, and commenced scolding about the new
governess.
"She'll have to do better than this, before I am
suited with her," she said, captiously.
"What's the matter now?" asked Mr. Dainty, in
a manner that exhibited some annoyance.
"Matter!" replied his wife. "I guess you'd think
it was some matter, if, when you came in late, tired
and hungry, the whole body of children were to
hover around you with their thousand wants and


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
37
0
complaints. It's Miss Harper's business to keep
them out of the way. She's paid for doing it. I
had to call her down from her room, and when I
spoke to her sharply she turned herself from me
with an air of offended dignity that was perfectly
ridiculous. The upstart! I shall have it out with
her this afternoon. No domestic shall treat me with
even a shadow of disrespect. I scarcely think she
comprehends her true position in the family; but
I will enlighten her fully."
The children listened with wide open ears, from
Agnes down to George. Mr. Dainty made no re-
sponse, and Uncle John merely remarked, "I hope
you will think twice before you act once in this
business of defining Miss Harper's position and
making yourself clearly understood. My advice
is, to be very sure that you understand yourself
first."
There was nothing to offend in the manner of
Uncle John. He spoke in sober earnest.
"Mother," said Agnes, breaking in through the
pause that followed Uncle John's remark, "did you
say that I should take my French lesson first?"
""No: who said that I did?" Mrs. Dainty answered,
without a moment's reflection.
"Why, Miss Harper said so, and made me give
my French recitation before I was ready for it."
4


38
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
"I said no such thing." Mrs. Dainty spoke with
some indignation, born of a vague notion, from
what Agnes had said, that the young governess
was assuming arbitrary rule over the children, and
falsely quoting her as authority. "I said no such
thing! What does she mean by it?"
"Well, she said you did, and made me say a
lesson before I had half learned it. That's not the
way to do!"
"Oh, dear!" exclaimed Mrs. Dainty. "Here comes
the trouble I feared! Give these vulgar people a
position a little in advance of what they have been
used to, and forthwith they take on airs. I saw it
in the girl at the first interview. I knew then
that she wouldn't suit, and if my judgment hadn't
been overruled she never would have come into the
house."
Mrs. Dainty glanced toward meddlesome Uncle
John as she said this. But Uncle John did not
seem to be in the least disturbed.
"Agnes," said he, looking across the table at the
injured and complaining girl, "what lesson did you
propose to recite in place of your French?"
Agnes flushed a little as she answered,—
"My music-lesson."
"Ah! That was the substitute. What about it?"
And Uncle John turned his quiet eyes upon the


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON. 89
countenance of his niece. "If I am not mistaken,
I heard you tell Miss Harper that you thought the
hour from twelve to one the best for music."
"Maybe I did," answered Mrs.Dainty, pettishly;
"but I didn't fix it as a law more binding than the
statutes of the Medes and Persians. Something was
left to the girl's own discretion."
"And I think it will be found on examination,"
said Uncle John, "that she used the discretion
wisely."
"Oh, but she said"—Agnes had taken her cue
from her mother—"that the hours for study had
positively been fixed by mother, and that she had
no authority to vary them in the least."
"Preposterous!" ejaculated Mrs. Dainty.
"What's the news to-day?" said Uncle John,
turning to Mr. Dainty. "Any thing of importance
stirring in the city 1"
He wished to change a subject the discussion of
which could do nothing but harm among the children.
The answer of Mr. Dainty led the conversation
into an entirely new channel. Once or twice, during
the dinner-hour, Mrs. Dainty tried to renew her
complaints against the governess; but Uncle John
managed to throw her off, and so the matter was
dropped for the time.


40
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
_ CHAPTER IV.
WORTH AND PRETENSION.
The manner in which Florence Harper met the
insolence of Mrs. Dainty—we give her conduct its
true designation—chafed that high-spirited lady
exceedingly. She could neither forget nor forgive
such conduct in an inferior. What right had she to
exhibit an independent spirit?—to show a womanly
pride that would not brook an outrage? The very
thought made the hot blood leap along the veins
of indignant Mrs. Dainty. Oh, yes. She would
"have it out with her!" So, toward the middle
of the afternoon, Florence was sent for, and she
went down to the sitting-room where Mrs. Dainty
was alone. Uncle John was on the alert. He had
remained in his own apartment, listening, with the
door ajar, for nearly an hour, and heard the sum-
mons given to Florence. He was in the sitting-room
almost as soon as she was, and in time to prevent
an interview, the result of which would, in all pro-
bability, be the withdrawal of Miss Harper from the


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
41
family. His niece looked at him with a frown as he
entered. An offensive interrogation was just on her
tongue, but she repressed the words, substituting
therefor this query:—
"When did we fix the hours of study for the chil-
dren, Miss Harper?"
"On the day before yesterday, ma'am," replied
Florence, in a calm, respectful voice.
"I never had any thing to say to you on the sub-
ject!" Mrs. Dainty lost temper, and, of course,
dignity and self-respect.
"Was not ten o'clock mentioned by you as the
hour when it would be best to commence the les-
sons?" inquired Florence.
"If it was, that doesn't mean fixing all the hours
of study 1"
"You said you wished Agnes to begin with
French," said Florence, quietly.
"Well, suppose I did: what then?"
"Only, that I understood you to mean that you
wished her to let French constitute her first lesson,
as most important. You will, no doubt, remember
that I approved this, as her mind would always
come fresh to the study."
"Approved!" Mrs. Dainty could not repress this
manifestation of contempt.
"You will also remember, that you spoke of the
4*


42
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
hour from twelve to one as most suitable for
music."
Miss Harper looked at the excited lady with a
steady gaze.
"And upon that you based a set of arbitrary
rules, and tried to enforce them by representing me
as their author!"
"No, madam, I did no such thing." Florence
drew her slender form up to its full height, and
looked calmly, steadily, and with an air of dignified
self-respect upon Mrs. Dainty. "I simply remained
firm to my duty when Agnes wished to begin with
music; and said to her, that the hours of study had
been arranged in consultation with you, and that I
had no authority to change them. So I understood
the matter, and, in my action, simply regarded the
good of your child. I did not, of course, permit my
pupil to direct the plan of study, and only yielded
a reference to you in order to make my firmness of
purpose the less offensive to her pride. And you
must forgive me, madam, for saying, that it is neither
just to me nor your children thus to react upon my
honest efforts to meet your wishes in regard to their
studies, and serve at the same time their best in-
terests as a teacher. I wish, for the sake of your
children, you knew me better. As it is, if you de-
sire me to remain their instructor, you must either


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
43
fix the hours and subjects of study in so plain a way
that no one can mistake them, or leave it altogether
in my hands. In either case, I will guarantee sub-
mission on the part of the children."
The outraged pride of Mrs. Dainty broke through
the pressure of involuntary respect which the dig-
nified, resolute, perfectly independent manner of
the young teacher had inspired, and the word "Im-
pertinent!" was on her lips, when Uncle John
said,—
"Miss Harper is clearly right, and I am pleased
to know that she has acted with so much firmness
and so much prudence. She is entitled to praise,
not blame."
Mrs. Dainty waved her hand for the governess to
leave the room. Without a word, or the slightest
apparent hesitation, Miss Harper retired.
"Uncle John!" Mrs. Dainty turned angrily upon
the old gentleman the moment they were alone, "I
am out of all patience with you! What chance
have L to command respect from inferiors in my
house, if you step in to justify them to my face when
I am attempting to blame improper actions? It's
an outrage, and I won't have it!"
"There is only one way to command the respect
of your household, Madeline," replied Uncle John,
"and that is, to treat them with kindness and jus-


4-4
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
tice. You may demand respect from those whom
you regard as your inferiors, forever; but, unless
your actions toward them be marked with dignity
and ladylike self-possession, your command will be
no more heeded than was that of the old British
king who commanded the waves of the sea to stop
their advancing course. Respect or contempt is an
independent thing, and always has free course. If
a lady desires the first, she has to do something
more than utter her proud behest. She has got to
deserve it; and, if she fail in this, she will surely
have the last,—contempt."
"I don't wish to hear any more of that," replied
Mrs. Dainty, curtly. "I hardly think it fair to seek
a justification of your own conduct in turning
around and assailing me. What right had you to
approve Miss Harper's conduct to her face, when I
was blaming her?"
"The common right which every one has to drag
another from the brink of a precipice over which
he is about blindly casting himself. I have observed
Miss Harper very closely since she has been in the
house, and at times when she could not be aware
of this observation. When you have been in the
street, I have been at home, watching her deport-
ment among the children; and it has always been
kind, wise, and consistent. There has been no


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
45
shadow of that domineering spirit of which you
seem so nervously afraid, but always a firmness that
knew just how far to yield, and how far to be im-
movable. I happened to hear all that passed in
regard to the French and music lessons. Agnes
was all to blame, and Florence was all right. It
was beautiful to see with what a gentle dignity
Florence met the efforts of Agnes to be mistress
instead of scholar, and how wisely she subdued the
incipient lady's rebellious pride. She gave no
offence in doing so, but really won upon her kind
feelings; and, but for the opportunity given her
pride to speak out its mortification, you would never
have heard a word of complaint.
"You will thus understand," continued Uncle
John, "why I threw in a word of justification in
time to prevent the utterance of language on your
part, which would inevitably have resulted in the
loss of a governess for your children who has
already gained more power over them for good than
any other being in the world possesses. And now,
Madeline, let me warn you against any further ex-
hibitions of passion, pride, or contempt toward one
into whose hlmds you have committed the well-
being of your children. Seek to elevate, not de-
press her. Treat her with respect and considera-
tion, and your children will do the same. You


46
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
make her the guide, counsellor, and companion of
your children. Think of the vast influence she
must exercise over them! The work of forming
their young minds—of directing their characters—
is in her hands, not yours. The mother's high pre-
rogative you choose to delegate to one regarded as
an inferior. Happily, in this case, the choice of a
representative has not been foolishly made. In all
respects Miss Harper is qualified for her position,
and, if sustained in it,' will act her part nobly. She
is no common person, let me tell you, but one of
superior mind, high moral worth, and almost perfect
accomplishments,—in a word, a model for your chil-
dren! But she is, at the same time, a young woman
with too much self-respect to bear your haughty,
insulting manners. H you wish to keep her, there-
fore, you must not repeat the offences of to-day."
"Does she expect me to curtsy every time I
meet her, and to say, 'If you please,' and 'By your
leave, miss'?" The lips of Mrs. Dainty curled, and
she looked very scornful.
"No,—nothing of the kind. Only that you shall
treat her with common decency,—which you have
not done!" Uncle John was provoked.
"You are quite complimentary, I must confess,"
said Mrs. Dainty, with an oft'ended manner.
"I speak the truth, and that is always the highest


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
,47
compliment I shall ever pay yon, my foolish niece!"
retorted Uncle John, who used his prerogative, in
most cases, to the full extent.
"I think we had better drop this subject," said
Mrs. Dainty.
"Very well; let it drop now. I will renew it
again when your feelings are less excited and your
judgment less obscured. Only let me repeat my
warning about Miss Harper. You have an angel
in your dwelling: let her remain to bless your chil- ,
dren. But the guest will not remain if you treat
her as though she were a spirit of evil."


48
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
CHAPTER V.
THE WIND AND THE BUN.
"Mother, can't I take my music-lesson first?'
said Agnes. It was on the morning after her
fruitless effort to be mistress instead of scholar.
Mrs. Dainty was in the middle of one of the most
absorbing chapters of the "Mysteries of Paris," a
book which she had read until twelve o'clock on the
night previous, and to which she had turned, imme-
diately after her late breakfast, with the eagerness
of a mere excitement-lover. She did not heed her
daughter's question. Only the sound of a disturb-
ing voice was perceived.
"Mother!" Agnes uttered her name in a loud,
impatient tone, grasping her arm as she spoke, and
shaking it to attract attention.
"What do you want, you troublesome girl?"
Mrs. Dainty turned angrily toward her daughter.
"Can't I take my music-lesson first?"
"I don't care what lesson you take first! Go
away, and don't disturb me!"
This was the mother's thoughtless answer. Agnes


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
49
glided away in triumph, and Mrs. Dainty's eyes fell
back to the pages of her book, unconscious of the
meaning of her reply.
"I'm going to take my music-lesson first!" said
Agnes, as she came into the study-room, where Miss
Harper was seated with George and Madeline. And
she tightened her lips firmly, elevated her chin, and
tossed her head jauntily, while from her clear, dark
eyes looked out upon her teacher a spirit of proud
defiance.
"Very well," replied Florence, in a voice that
showed not the slightest disturbance. "At twelve
o'clock I will be ready to give the lesson."
"I'm going to take it now," said Agnes, drawing
up her petite form to its extreme height, and look-
ing, or rather trying to look, very imperious.
Miss Harper could scarcely help smiling; but she
repressed all feeling, and merely answered,—
"You can practise your scales for the next two
hours, if you prefer doing so, Agnes. At twelve I
will give you a lesson."
"I'll go and tell mother that you won't give me
my music-lesson!" said the baffled, indignant girl,
flirting out of the room.
"Mother!" She had grasped the arm of her
mother again.
"Go away, and don't annoy me!" Mrs. Dainty
D 6


50
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
threw out her arm, and swept her daughter away
from her side.
"Mother!" Agnes had pressed back again, deter-
mined that she would be heard.
"What do you want?" Mrs. Dainty dropped her
book from before her face, and turned, with anger
flashing in her eyes, upon her daughter.
"Miss Harper won't give me my music-lesson!"
"Oh, dear! There's to be nothing but trouble
with that stuck-up girl!" exclaimed Mrs. Dainty.
"I saw it from the first."
And, tossing her book from her, she started up,
and went with quick steps and a burning face to the
room where Miss Harper sat with the two children
next younger than Agnes, who were leaning upon
her and looking up into her face, gathering intelli-
gence from her eyes as well as her fitly-spoken
words.
"See here, miss!" exclaimed Mrs. Dainty, as she
came sweeping into the room, "I'm getting tired of
this kind of work, and it must end! What do you
mean by refusing to give Agnes her music-lesson?"
"Do you wish her music to precede her French?"
Very calmly, and with a quiet dignity that rebuked
the excited mother, was this question asked; but
Mrs. Dainty was partially blinded by anger, and,
obeying an ill-natured impulse, made answer,—


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON. 51
"I want no airs nor assumptions from such as
you! I hired you to instruct the children, not to set
them by the ears. I saw from the beginning that
you wouldn't suit this house,—that a little brief
authority would make a tyrant of you, as it does of
all vulgar minds."
Mrs. Dainty was losing herself entirely.
The face of Miss Harper flushed instantly, and for
a moment or two an indignant fire burned in her
eyes. But right thoughts soon find a controlling
influence in all superior minds. The assailed young
governess regained, almost as quickly as it had been
lost, her calmness of exterior; nor was this calmness
merely on the surface. She made no further remark,
until the stubble fire in Mrs. Dainty's mind had
flashed up to its full height and then died down for
want of solid fuel. Then, in a voice that betrayed
nothing of disturbed feeling, she said,—
"If it is your wish, madam, that Agnes should
take her music-lesson first, I have no objection. My
duty is to teach her, and I am trying to do so faith-
fully. But things must be done in order. Establish
any rules you deem best, and I will adhere to them
faithfully."
"Give Agnes her music-lesson!" Mrs. Dainty
spoke with an offensive imperiousness, waving her
hand toward the door.


52
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
Miss Harper did not move.
"Do you hear me ?*' exclaimed Mrs. Dainty. The
fires had received a new supply of stubble.
"Fool!"
Mrs. Dainty turned quickly, a shame-spot already
on her cheek, and met the angry eyes and contemp-
tuous face of Uncle John, who had thrown his voice
iuto her ears alone.
"Fool!" His lips shaped the word for her eyes;
and she saw it as plainly as if it had been written
in staring capitals.
Uncle John beckoned to her with his head, step-
ping back as he did so, in order to prevent the
other inmates of the room from seeing him.- Mrs.
Dainty obeyed the signal, and, without venturing
another remark, retired from the study-room, and,
sweeping past Uncle John, sought refuge in her
own chamber.
"A'n't you going to give me my music-lesson,
miss?"
If her mother had retired from the field, there
was no disposition whatever on the part of Agnes
to follow her example.
"Certainly," was the mild, evenly-spoken an-
swer.
"Come along, then, and give it to me now."
"I will be ready at twelve o'clock, Agnes."


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
53
"Mother told you to give it to me now, and you've
got to do so."
"Oh, don't talk so to Miss Harper, Aggy!" said
Madeline, her voice trembling and her eyes filling
with tears.
The words came just in season. Miss Harper
felt that all this was more than she ought to bear;
and outraged pride was about rising above convic-
tions of duty.
"Georgy and I love you. We will say our les-
sons." The sweet child lifted her large, beautiful
eyes to the face of her governess.
"Tell us a story, won't you, Miss Harper?"
It was George who made the request.
"As soon as you and Madeline have said your
lessons, I will tell you a nice little story." And
Florence won him to her will with a kiss.
The lesson-books were opened instantly, and, the
light tasks set, the little ones entered upon them
with willing spirits.
"Come and give me my music-lesson!" broke in,
discordantly, the voice of Agnes.
"At twelve o'clock, Agnes." There was not the
smallest sign of disturbed feeling in the manner of
the governess.
"Mother will turn you out of the house! I heard
her say so!"
6.


54
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
A red spot painted itself on the brow of Miss
Harper. But it faded as quickly as it came.
Seeing that she was not to have her will with the
governess, Agnes flirted from the room, and sought
the apartment to which her mother had retired.
"Mother! mother! That upstart thing says she
won't give me my music-lesson for you nor anybody
els«!"
Now Agnes went a step too far, and at the wrong
moment. It was just then dawning upon the mind
of Mrs. Dainty that her daughter had exaggerated
the conduct of Miss Harper, and led her into an
unladylike exhibition of herself. The sting of mor-
tification excited her quite enough to make her turn
with sharp acrimony upon this wilful daughter.
"I don't believe a word of it!" she said, angrily.
"All this trouble has grown^out of your bad con-
duct. Go off and say your lessons at the right time.
I won't be annoyed in this way any longer."
"But, mother"
Mrs. Dainty took her by the arm and thrust her
from the room, saying, passionately,—
"Don't let me see your face again to-day!"
For several minutes Agnes sat upon the stairs
leading up to the study-room, so disappointed and
mortified that only anger kept her from tears. Down
from this room came the low murmur of voices;


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
55
and her ears recognised now that of Madeline or
George, and now that of Miss Harper. How mu-
sical was the latter, compared with the sound of her
mother's rebukiug tones that were still in her ears!
In spite of pride and self-will, her heart acknow-
ledged the contrast; and, with this acknowledg-
ment, touches of shame were felt. Even with mean
false accusation on her side, self-will had failed to
triumph. Success would have blinded her to the
quality of her own spirit; but failure made her vision
clearer.
All remained still in the mother's chamber and
still through the house, as the mortified girl sat al-
most crouching on the stairs, and quiet was only
disturbed faintly by the muffled voices that were
heard in the study-room.
Agnes could not help but think, for passion was
subsiding; and thought dwelt naturally upon the
persons and circumstances by which passion had
been aroused into turbulence. A contrast between
the mother's spirit and the spirit thus far shown by
Miss Harper forced itself upon her mind, and she
saw the beauty of the one and the deformity of the
other. In spite of her pride, a feeling of respect
for Miss Harper was born; and with this respect
something of contempt for her weak, passionate
mother found an existence.


56
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
"Now tell us the story, won't you, Miss Harper?"
It was the voice of George, ringing down from
the study-room. The lessons were over; and the
promised story was to come.
Scarcely conscious of what she was doing, Agnes
moved quietly up the stairs, until she was near
enough to the door of the study-room to hear dis-
tinctly.
"There was once a little flower-bud." Miss Har-
per began her story in a low voice, and Agnes
leaned forward, listening earnestly. "It was very
small, and two green leaves gathered their arms
closely around it, for there was a hidden treasure
of sweetness in the heart of that bud. One day
the cold, angry wind came along, and wanted the
bud to open her beautiful pink leaves and give out
from her heart the sweet perfumes that were hidden
there. He blew harshly upon her, throwing her
little head first on one side and then upon the other,
and called angrily for her to open, that her sweet-
ness might breathe in his ugly face. But the two
green leaves only hugged their arms closer around
the bud. Then he dashed her head upon the
ground, and tried to trample the life out of her;
for he did not love her at all: he only loved himsel f.
The light stem that held the bud did not break,
but only bent down, and, when the cruel wind was


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
57
gone, raised up again from the ground and lifted
the bud into the warm sunshine that was coming
abroad.
"It was very different when the gentle, loving
sunshine came and asked the two green leaves to
unclasp themselves and let the bud grow into a
flower, that the sweetness might come out of its
little heart. Greener and softer grew these leaves,
and they seemed almost to smile with pleasure, as
they gently fell back from the swelling bud, that
opened and opened in the face of the sunshine until
it became a beautiful flower, the perfume in its
heart filling all the air around."
Miss Harper paused.
"What a sweet story!" said Madeline, looking
still into the face of her governess, and with won-
dering eyes, for she felt, child as she was, that the
story had a signification.
"Love and kindness are always better than
anger," said Miss Harper, answering the child's
eyes.
"The sunshine was love?" said Madeline.
"Yes; and the cold wind was anger."
"And what was the flower?" asked the
child. i
"You and George are human flhwers, dear;"
and, from the swelling love in her pure spirit, Miss


58 THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
Harper pressed a kiss on the lips of both the
children.
"Am I a flower?" asked George.
"I call you a little human flower," answered tho
governess,—"a little human flower, with love in
your heart, hidden away there like sweetness in the
heart of the bud I was telling you about. Will you
let me be your sunshine?"
The wayward boy flung his arms around the neck
of Florence and clasped her tightly, but without
speaking. He felt more than he could utter.
A tear dropped upon the hand of Agnes, as she
sat upon the stairs near the door of the study-
room. It seemed to her as if heaven were in that
room, while she was on the outside. Never in her
life had she felt so strangely; never had such a
sense of desolation oppressed her. That lesson of
the bud, the wind, and the sunshine,—how deeply
it had sunk into her heart! Acting from a
sudden impulse, she started up, and, going in
where the young governess sat with an arm
drawn around each of the two children, she said,
with burning eyes, and a voice unsteady from
emotion,—
"Be my sunshine also, Miss Harper! Oh, be my
sunshine! I have long enough been hurt by the
angry wind!"


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON. 59
An appeal so unlooked for surprised Florence;
but she did not hesitate. Rising instantly, she
took the extended hands of Agnes in both of hers,
and answered,—
"I have only sunshine to give, dear Agnes.
Regard me no longer as an enemy and an op-
pressor. I am your friend."
"I know it, I know it, Miss Harper!"
"Your true friend," added Florence, kissing
her. "And now," she added, in a sweet, per-
suasive voice, "let us make this room sacred to
peace, order, and instruction, and open all its win-
dows for love's warm sunshine to stream in upon us
daily."
"It shall be no fault of mine if otherwise," was
the low, earnest reply of the young girl, whom love
had conquered.


60
THB ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
CHAPTER VI
THE GOVERNESS DISMISSED.
"How do you like your governess?" inquired a
fashionable friend, who w£s making a call upon
Mrs. Dainty.
Mrs. Dainty shook her head and pursed up her
lips in a vulgar way that was natural to her.
"Not perfect, of course," said the friend.
"No,—not within a thousand miles of perfec-
tion."
"An American girl, I presume?"
"Yes." The lip of Mrs. Dainty assumed a curl
of contempt.
"Poor American girls are an indifferent set," re-
marked the lady. "A'n't you afraid that your
children will, imperceptibly, imbibe her low habits
and vulgar ways of speaking?"
"Yes; that is my greatest fear. Already I think
I see a change."
"I wouldn't keep her an hour, if that were the
case," said the lady. "No, not for the fraction of
an hour!" she added, with emphasis. "I had al-


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
61
most as soon see my children vicious as vulgar; for
vice may be eradicated, but vulgarity is a stain
nothing can polish out."
"And, to add to her offence," remarked Mrs.
Dainty, "she has assumed an upstart authority
which has kept the house in hot water ever since
she came into it. The children, and particularly
Agnes, will not submit to her rules and exac-
tions."
"Why don't you pack her off? I'd do it in less
than no time," said the refined acquaintance.
"I've about made up my miqd to do it, and in
spite of all opposition."
"Opposition! "Who has any right to oppose?"
"That fussy old uncle of mine is always meddling
in our affairs,—Uncle John."
"Why do you keep him about the house?"
"He's my mother's brother," replied Mrs. Dainty.
She could have given a better reason; but it would
have been at the expense of an exposure of selfish-
ness she did not care to make.
"If he were my mother's great-grandfather, he
couldn't find harbor in my house if he interfered in
what didn't concern him," said the lady.
Mrs. Dainty sighed. Uncle John was a great
trouble to her, for he would say what he thought
and do what he pleased. But then Uncle John
G


62
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
owned the house they lived in, which they occupied
rent free, or in compensation for board. And,
moreover, Uncle John was worth two or three dol-
lars where her not over-thrifty husband was worth
one. No, no. It wouldn't just answer to turn
Uncle John out of the house; for that would be a
losing business.
"If I could only find the right stamp of a gover-
ness," said Mrs. Dainty, sighing again.
"I think I know a person who would just suit
you." g
"Oh, indeed! Where can I see her?"
"Have you any acquaintance with Mrs. Ashton?"
"No,—though I have long desired to be num-
bered among her friends."
"Only yesterday she mentioned to me," said the
visitor, "that she knew a highly-accomplished Eng-
lish lady, a widow, whose husband died in the East
India Company's service, and asked me to bear her
in remembrance if I should hear of any one who
wanted a governess."
"How fortunate!" exclaimed Mrs. Dainty. "An
educated English lady! What more could I desire?"
"Nothing. Shall I speak to Mrs. Ashton about
you, and learn the lady's address?"
"By all means. Won't you see her this very
day?"


04
THK ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
moderately good society. But her husband failed
in business several years ago, and died shortly
afterward, I think. So it is her daughter you have
for a governess! How things will come around!
There was a time when she seemed to think I
wasn't good enough to associate with her; and now
her daughter has come down to the position of a
hireling. Well, well! Isn't this a queer world?
If Florence is like her mother, I don't think she
will suit."
"She puts on airs above her station," said Mrs.
Dainty.
"An inherited fault. Her mother had a way of
looking down upon everybody. I couldn't bear her!"
"Humph! This spawn of hers actually assumed
to put herself on a level with me, and to 'approve'
my opinions in regard to the children's education!
I was too provoked!"
"You'll always have trouble with her," said the
lady. "The stock isn't right. Is Agnes taking
lessons in music?" she inquired, in a pause that fol-
lowed. The sound of a piano had for some time
been heard.
Mrs. Dainty drew out her watch as she answered
in the affirmative. She saw that it was half-past
twelve o'clock. A moment or two she listened,
while a serious expression came into her face.


66
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
mother noticed this, and her blood grew hot as she
imagined the cause to be a crushed spirit under the
iron rule of Miss Harper. Uncle John had made it
his business to see a great deal more of what was
going on than any one imagined. He understood
the state of Agnes's mind far better than did her
mother. All was coming right, he saw, and his
wise heart, so full of interest for the children, felt
a burden of care removed. After dinner he went
out.
"Just what I wished for," said Mrs. Dainty to.
herself, as she saw him take his hat and cane. "I
will make clean work of it with this 'angel' of
yours: see if I don't!"
"Tell Miss Harper that I wish to see her in my
room," Mrs. Dainty spoke to a servant, half an hour
later. The servant carried the message to the go-
verness, who obeyed the summons without a mo-
ment's delay.
"I have sent for you, Miss Harper, to say what
you must have yourself inferred,—that you will not
suit me for a governess." >
Mrs. Dainty spoke coldly,—almost severely. That
Florence was surprised, her suddenly-heightened
color showed plainly. She caught her breath, and
for a few moments, looked bewildered. Mrs. Dain
observed this, and said,—


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON. 67
•thv
"You have no reason to be surprised or disap-
pointed, miss. I told you in the beginning that I
leli didn't think you would suit; and I have never seen
wa8 cause for a moment to change my mind since you
00(1 came into the house. Instead of falling into your
her, place and doing your duty as became one in your
h'8 | position, you have done nothing but keep me and
fe^. the children in hot water from the day you entered
wrt! the house. When you get a good situation again,
take my advice, and be content with a hireling's
f to' place, and don't assume the airs of a mistress. No
lt lady will have her children domineered over as you
'°^ have domineered over mine."
"Mrs. Dainty, I repel"
wj "Not a word to me, miss! Not a word to me!"
hoi" replied the lady, imperiously. "I permit no one in
: my house to answer back. Here are your wages for
the time you have been instructing the children.
Take the money, and go!"
ffh* Miss Harper did not touch the money, but turned
1 away, and was leaving the room.
"Miss Harper!" The voice of Mrs. Dainty had.
T¥ in it a commanding tone,
en* Florence paused, and turned partly around,
jiri "Why don't you take the money? say!"
iin "I cannot receive pay for services that are so
poorly regarded," was her calmly-spoken answer.


68
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
"Impudent!" Miss Harper turned away again.
"Stop!" The foot of Mrs. Dainty jarred on the
floor. Miss Harper looked back.
"Don't see one of the children; but go off with
yourself immediately!"
The young governess flitted away almost as noise-
lessly as a spirit. At the same moment Mrs. Dainty
rung her bell violently. To the servant who an-
swered, she said,—
"Tell all the children to come to my room."
"They shall see who is mistress in this house."
(So she talked with herself in the interval.)' "Uncle
John has had his way a little too long. But there is
a point beyond which patience ceases to be a virtue;
and I have arrived at that point."
"What do you want, mamma?" asked Madeline,
as she came with Agnes and her little brother into
her mother's apartment.
"I want you to stay here with me," was the cold
answer.
"Can't I go back to Miss Harper? She was
-telling us such a sweet story when you sent for
her."
"No; you can't go back. Tou must stay
here."
"I don't want to stay here. I'm going back to
Miss Harper. I like her better than anybody in this


70
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
Grasping George by an arm, she bore him, scream-
ing, from the room; and, as his cries came back to
her from the distance, Miss Harper could hear ming-
ling with them the sound of passionate blows.
"Poor children!" she said. "There is good in
them, but how sadly overgrown by weeds! With
such a mother, what hope is there? But I must not
linger here. For their sakes I would have remained,
even though suffering insult daily. No choice is
left me, however, and I must go."
As Miss Harper passed the door of Mrs. Dainty's
room, on her way down-stairs, dressed to leave the
house, she heard the sobbing of George and Made-
line, mingled with stormy words that were passing
between Agnes and her mother. The purport of
these she did not stop to hear, but hurried on, and,
without seeing or speaking to any one, took her
silent departure.


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
71
CHAPTER VII.
A REVELATION.
"Florence!" Miss Harper stopped suddenly,
and looked up in a bewildered manner.
"Florence!" repeated the voice of Uncle John.
"Mr. Fleetwood!" She could only utter the kind
old man's name in a low, choking voice.
"Where are you going, Florence?" he asked.
"Home," was the answer.
"Has anything happened at home? Is your
aunt sick?"
"ITo, sir."
"Are you sick, Florence?"
"Yes, sir. Sick at heart!" was the reply of
Florence, made with quivering lips.
Uncle John turned, and walked beside Miss Har-
per, in the direction he had found her going.
"There is something wrong, Florence," said he.
"Why have you left the house of my niece so sud-
denly?"
"Mrs. Dainty has dispensed with my services."
"What?"


72
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
"Mrs. Dainty does not wish me any longer to
hold the place of governess to her children," said
Florence.
Uncle John was silent for some moments. He
then said,—
"How did tjiis happen? Tell me everything
freely."
Florence related what had passed between her
and Mrs. Dainty at the hurried interview preceding
her departure from the house.
"You must go back again," said Uncle John,
after Florence had finished her brief narrative.
"Impossible !" was her firm answer.
"Say not so, Florence."
"Impossible, Mr. Fleetwood! Impossible! I am
not strong enough to bear all this insult and indig-
nity. I can suffer pain, or even death; but my
spirit will not brook humiliation like this! Only
for the children's sake have I remained up to this
day."
"And only for their sakes would I still have you
remain," said Uncle John.
"But the door is shut against me; and I will
never knock to have it opened," said the young girl,
with, an indignant spirit; "never! never!" She
repeated the words very firmly.
"The door must be opened for you, and without


74
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
this visit?" she added, a slight shadow coming
into her face as she looked more narrowly at Flo-
rence.
"A providential one, doubtless," said Mr. Fleet-
wood, smiling. "I met your niece, just now, flee-
ing from the post of duty, and have accompanied
her hither, that I might hear the report she has to
make of herself."
"A good report, I doubt not," replied the old
lady, throwing a kind but serious glance upon the
countenance of her niece.
"When the door is shut in your face, you can
hardly be blamed for leaving the threshold," said
Florence, with some bitterness in her tones.
"Is it so bad as that, my child?" Mrs. Elder
spoke with much tenderness, which did not wholly
conceal a flush of indignation.
"Just so bad." Florence said this slowly, and
with an emphasis on every word. "Just so bad,"
she repeated. "And yet Mr. Fleetwood wishes me
to return for the children's sake."
"And is not that a powerful motive?" said the
old gentleman, speaking before Mrs. Elder had time
to reply. "For the children's sake! For the sake
of those little ones whom the Lord, when upon the
earth, took up in his arms and blessed with a divine
blessing,—who are so precious in the eyes of Ilea-


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMOK. 75
ven that their angels do always behold the face of
Our Father. I urged, you see, Mrs. Elder, no light
motive." •
The eyes and countenance of Florence both
drooped to the floor, and she remained sitting al-
most motionless.
"I must know all the facts in the case, Mr. Fleet-
wood, before I can say a word touching the duty of
my niece. What she sees to be right she has the
courage to do, and, if my eyes can aid her in seeing
right, I will gladly lend her their more experienced
vision. Let me have the whole story of this new
trouble with Mrs. Dainty."
In as few words as possible, Florence rehearsed
what had passed between her and Mrs. Dainty,
giving to her auditors that lady's emphatic and in-
sulting terms of dismissal.
Mrs. Elder remained gravely silent for some
minutes after Florence had ceased speaking; while
Mr. Fleetwood waited patiently to get the conclu-
sion of her thoughts.
"I don't see that it is possible for Florence to
go back again," said the old lady, speaking as if
that view of the case were clearly settled in her
mind.
"Extreme cases require extreme measures," said
Mr. Fleetwood. "I treat my niece, for most of the


76
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
time, as if she were partially demented. And so
she is; for vanity and love of the world have in
a measure dethroned her reason. She was my
favorite when a little girl; and I remained strongly
attached to her as she grew up toward womanhood,
—though I could not be over-patient with the
fashionable follies to which she showed far too early
an inclination. For some years I have been alto-
gether out of heart with her, and see no hope of
her reformation, except- through virtue of some
great calamity. But she has children, to whom all .
my love is transferred,—children who may be
trained to good or warped to evil. I had almost
come to despair of them, when a bright day re-
newed old acquaintanceship, and I discovered in
your excellent niece all the qualities needed to save
these children. How wisely, lovingly, and un-
selfishly she has performed her task so far I need
not repeat to you, Mrs. Elder, for I have told you
every word before. And now, do you think I
can give her up? No, no. She must return.
But I will make the way as easy for her as pos-
sible. All the rough places I cannot hope to make
even; but she has courage to walk, if she knows
the voice of*duty, even where sharp stones are
certain to cut her tender feet. Already she has
won her way into the hearts of the children, and


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
77
has at this moment more power over them for
good than any living soul. This power must not
be lost."
"Every child that is born," said Aunt Mary, in a
thoughtful tone, "is precious in the eyes of God,
and his love toward that child is manifested in the
best possible arrangement of things external to its
life, in order that these may awaken in its heart
emotions of kindness, mercy, and pity toward
others. Such emotions, whenever excited, fix
themselves as permanent things in the young im-
mortal, and remain there like good seed that may
be warmed into life and produce good fruit when
time has brought the age of rational freedom. It
is by such remains of good and true things in all
their varieties, which are stored up in the minds of
children from the earliest days of infancy, up to
manhood, that our Divine Father is able to save us
from the evil inclinations we inherit, when we step
forth, as men and women, self-reliant and ration-
ally responsible. To help in the work of storing
up in the minds of young children such 'remains,'
as I have called them, is indeed ^a heavenly
work; and all who engage in it are co-workers
with angels."
"And to neglect such work," said Mr. Fleet-
wood, "when it lies in our way, and will be per-
7*


78
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
formed by no other hands if we refuse to do it,
involves no light responsibility. The perversion,
corruption, and final ruin of an immortal soul is a
fearful thought."
A deep sigh fluttered the bosom of Florence Har-
per; but she made no remark.
"If a mother neglect her high duties in this re-
gard," said Mrs. Elder, "can we say that another
becomes responsible in her stead?"
Florence raised her head and listened with
marked interest for Mr. Fleetwood's answer to this
question. He reflected a moment, and then made
reply:—
"For the work God sets before us are we alone
responsible. His love for his children is so great
that he is ever providing the means to help them
to a knowledge of the good that is needful to secure
their happiness. If those appointed by natnre to
do good to his little ones neglect their high trust,
he leads others to a knowledge of their wants; and,
if these pass by unmoved to kindness, he still offers
the heavenly work to other hands."
The head of Florence again drooped, and again
her bosom trembled with a sigh.
"I do not ask Florence to return to our house
to-day," said Mr. Fleetwood. "She must have r
little time for rest and reflection, and I must have


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
79
a little time for observation and management at
home. The meaning of this hasty step on the part
of my niece I do not comprehend. Something lies
behind it that I must make out clearly before
acting."
"I will see you in the morning, Florence," added
the old gentleman, on rising to go. Then, taking
her hand, he said, very earnestly, and with slight
emotion,—
"Ever regard me as your friend,—nay, more
than a friend,—as a father. Do not fear that I'
will advise you to any course of action in this
i
matter that I would not advise you to take were
you indeed my own child—as—as you might have
been!"
The voice of the old man grew strangely veiled
with feeling as he uttered, in something of an
absent way, the closing words of the last sentence.
"Yes! yes! as you might have been, Florence!"
repeated Mr. Fleetwood, with sudden energy, catch-
ing at the hand of the young girl and pressing it to
his lips.
"Tell her all! yes, tell her all!" he added,
turning to Mrs. Elder in a hurried, excited man-
er. "Her presence moves me strangely, and
■emories of the past are too strong for an old
aan's feelings."


80
TnE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
Mr. Fleetwood left, abruptly, the apartment, pass-
ing into the street, and so leaving the aunt and
niece alone.
"Tell me all of what, Aunt Mary?" said Florence,
• coming to the side of Mrs. Elder. Her face had
become very pale.
"A simple story of thwarted love and undying
affection," replied Aunt Mary, calmly. "Mr. Fleet-
wood loved your mother, and that love was only in
a measure returned. Your father won her heart
more truly, and she decided in his favor. They
were married, and you are their only child. If your
mother had married Mr. Fleetwood, the current of
her life might have run smoother; but whether she
would have been happier is not for me to say. Mr.
Fleetwood never would marry again; and it seems
that his love for your mother has been an undying
passion. I will say no more than this. But he is a
man of great moral worth, noble sentiments, and
a true heart. His interest in you is not a passing
whim or preference, but has in it such deep regard
as a wise and good father knows only for his child.
And so you may be very sure that he will advise
you to no course of action in regard to his niece
and her children that he would not advise for his
own daughter. It was his love for these children
that led him to desire you for their governess,—


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
81
you, whom he rightly knew only through my re-
presentation of your character. I think you will
see it best to return to your post."
"I can only go back through Mrs. Dainty's invita-
tion, and, I was going to say, after her apology." •
"Withhold for the present that last condition,"
said Aunt Mary. "I doubt not, when the time
comes, the way in which your feet should walk will
be made very plain."
F


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
83
engaged, but that she can send me word as to her
business."
The waiter retired. On coming back he said,—
"The woman wouldn't tell me her business. She
says she was desired to call by Mrs. Ash ton, but
that, if you are not prepared to see her, it is of no
consequence."
"Mrs. Ashton! Oh, yes; now I understand! Has
she gone?"
The manner of Mrs. Dainty changed suddenly;
and she made the inquiry with manifest eagerness.
"She acted as if she were going," replied the
waiter.
"Go back quickly, and say that I will be down
in a moment."
A gleam of satisfaction shot across the face of
Mrs. Dainty.
"My new English governess!" she ejaculated, in
a low tone, as the waiter left the room. "I'll soon
have a new order of things with the children!"
After slightly adjusting her dress, which had be-
come disarranged during her sleep in the easy-chair,
Mrs. Dainty put on as grave an air of dignity as she
could assume, and went down to the parlor. As
she entered, a tall woman dressed in black arose,
and stood, awaiting her approach, with a half proud,
half deferential air, fixing upon her at the same time


84
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
two small, gray, piercing eyes, that seemed to go
right through Mrs. Dainty. Her widow's weeds, as
the waiter had informed his mistress, were a little
rusty; and the same might be said of her com-
plexion. Her nose was rather a marked feature for
prominence and size; her lips were delicate in com-
parison with the rest of her face, and had a certain
flexibility which showed them to be quick indicators
of feeling. The whole aspect of the face made upon
Mrs. Dainty, at the first glance, rather an unfavor-
able impression; and she seemed to be pushed from
rather than drawn toward the woman.
"Mrs. Jeckyl ?" she said, assuming a frank, smiling
courtesy, as she came forward and offered her hand.
"My name." And the visitor bowed with a re-
served dignity, giving only the tips of her fingers to
Mrs. Dainty.
"Mrs. Ashton desired you to call?"
"Yes, ma'am. She said you were about changing
your governess, and would like to see me on the
subject."
The woman's manner a little embarrassed Mrs.
Dainty: there was in it an air of conscious supe-
riority that rather overawed her.
"I have dismissed an upstart American girl, who
took on airs with both me and my children," replied
Mrs. Dainty, with considerable warmth.


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON. 85
"American girls. I have observed," said the visitor,
"are apt to forget themselves in the respect you
mention. It grows naturally out of your system
of government, I presume. This equality of the
people must often show itself as an offensive element
in society. I have been many times annoyed by it
since I came to America."
"Oh, it's dreadful!" replied Mrs. Dainty. "Dread-
ful!"
"Like other evils," was replied, "it will, I sup-
pose, cure itself in time. People who can afford to
be independent will throw off the rude familiars^
who thrust themselves too far in advance of their
right positions."
"Exactly so, as I have done in the case of Miss
Harper, whom I sent off without a moment's
warning, for the offence of presumption. She very
foolishly imagined that her judgment and her will
touching the children were superior to mine, and
ventured to set me at naught in their eyes. It was
a bold experiment on her part, and proved, of course,
a failure."
"If all American ladies would act with a like
decision of character," said Mrs. Jeckyl, "a needed
reform would take place much sooner than it is
likely to occur while things go on as at present.
But to the purpose of my visit. You desire, as I
8


86
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
understand, to secure the services of a competent
governess for your children."
"I do," replied Mrs. Dainty.
"So I have been informed; and I have called to
see you at the particular request of Mrs. Ashton. I
do not know that I am prepared to make a positive
engagement at present, however. The position will
be new to me; and I feel averse to assuming it.
Having moved all my life in the best English society,
I find it hard to repress a natural repugnance to be-
coming a mere employee—a kind of half servant—
in an American family."
"I am not surprised at the feeling," said Mrs.
Dainty, whose respect for the lady had mounted at
least thirty degrees on the scale of estimation. "It
would be strange if you felt differently. But I
think we can make your position in our family
wholly agreeable. At least, it shall not be my fault
if there is any failure."
"If the lady herself is on my side "Mrs.
Jeckyl paused.
"You need not be troubled for the rest," said
Mrs. Dainty, finishing the sentence.
"Very truly said," was remarked, in a compliant,
insinuating manner.
The two ladies then came down to a regular *
business interview, in which the questions of service


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
87
and compensation were fully discussed. The terms
of the applicant were high, and her stipulations
varied. She was to have no care of the children
beyond their education. Mrs. Dainty must have a
nurse to give all attention to their bodily wants,
while she administered solely to their mental needs.
The hours of study must be fixed, and the nurse
produce the children at the study-room doors pre-
cisely at the time specified. With the termination
of the study-hours, all demands upon the governess
for service in the family must end. After that her
time must be her own. As to her meals, they must
be sent to her room, and she must have the privilege
of ordering as she desired from the day's bill of fare.
All this was imperative, and all this Mrs. Dainty
yielded, so earnest was she in her desire to secure
the services of this accomplished English lady.
"There is one thing of which I must advise you,"
said Mrs. Dainty, during the interview. "We have
residing with us a bachelor uncle of mine, who,
being in no business, amuses himself by petty inter-
ferences in our family concerns. He is a terrible
annoyance sometimes. I mention this in the be-
ginning, that you may be prepared for him. One
of the reasons why I sent oft" that American girl
was, because he took her side in every thing, and
encouraged her in all her airs and assumptions."


88
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
"He must keep out of my way." There was a
peculiar lifting of Mrs. Jeckyl's upper lip as she said
this,—as we sometimes see it in an angry beast,—
just showing her teeth enough to make it evident
that she had the power to bite, and the will, too,
under sufficient provocation. The effect on Mrs.
Dainty was not pleasant; but she waved aside the
warning impression as something in which there was
no meaning.
"Hold him entirely aloof," she said. "Do not
permit his interference in the smallest matter."
"What right has he to interfere?" Mrs. Jeckyl
showed a measure of womanly indignation.
"None!" was answered, with warmth. "None!
I consider myself competent to decide in all ques-
tions touching the management of my own children,
and his meddlesome interference puts me out of all •
patience. "We' must lay our heads together to cir-
cumvent him entirely."
"Why circumvent?" said Mrs. Jeckyl. "Why
take all that trouble? Isn't there an easier and
plainer way?"
"I do not wish seriously to offend my uncle,"
replied Mrs. Dainty, slightly depressing her tone.
"He is an excellent, well-meaning, kind-hearted
man. I would therefore circumvent rather than
harshly oppose him. He is rather quick-tempered,


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
89
and an open rupture might ensue. The best way
for you will be to keep him entirely at a distance.
Stand wholly on your dignity. Do not respond to
any suggestion or advice that he may offer in regard
to the children, but keep your own counsel and
carry out your own views."
"Trust me for that," said Mrs. Jeckyl. "He will
always find me rock or India-rubber."
"When will you come?" asked Mrs. Dainty, as
this preliminary interview was about closing.
"As early as you desire," replied the educated
English lady. "To-morrow, if it is agreeable."
"I wish you would say this afternoon."
"This afternoon!" Mrs. Jeckyl opened her small
gray eyes wider than usual.
"I have a particular reason," said Mrs. Dainty.
"If it is very particular." There was a yielding
air about Mrs. Jeckyl.
"It is,—very particular. I will explain. Uncle
John knows nothing at all yet about my break with
Miss Harper, and still thinks her in the house. Her
services were obtained through him, and he seems
to regard her as a kind of protSgi. Now, in order
to let him understand that I am entirely in earnest,
and that her return is impossible, I wish him to
learn two facts in the case at the same time,—that
the old governess has left the house, and that a new
8»


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
91
CHAPTER IX.
THE SHADOW OF EVIL.
Showing the room was a simple affair, but when
it came to showing up the children the matter as-
sumed rather a complicated aspect. Agnes was the
first whom Mrs. Dainty ventured to introduce to the
new governess.
"My oldest daughter, Mrs. Jeckyl," she said, as
Agnes, who had been summoned to the study-room,
entered with a grave, half-wondering, perceptibly-
clouded face. "Agnes, Mrs. Jeckyl, our new go-
verness, who takes the place of Miss Harper."
Agnes, who had advanced to within a few steps
of her mother and Mrs. Jeckyl, stopped suddenly.
The quicker-flowing blood dyed her face to a deep
crimson. The tall, repulsive-looking Englishwoman
—repulsive to the sight of Agnes—advanced a
step and offered her hand; but, instead of taking
the extended hand, Agnes merely returned her
sharp penetrating look, with one half fearful and
half repugnant.


92
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
"Why don't you speak to the lady?" said Mrs.
Dainty, with some sharpness of tone.
Agnes partially extended her hand, and Mrs.
Jeckyl, changing her dignified look to one of smiling
insinuation, accepted the reluctant courtesy.
"Sit down, my dear." Mrs. Dainty's manner
changed, and her voice assumed its pleasantest
tones.
The three then sat down, facing each other, but
neither of them at ease.
"Mrs. Jeckyl," said the mother, "has come to
take the place of Miss Harper as your governess.
She is an accomplished English lady, and will be
very kind to you. I shall expect you to submit
j'ourselves to her dutifully, and to be guided by her
instructions. You are the oldest, my daughter, and
your example to Madeline and George will be all-
potent. As you lead, they will follow. Lead them
kindly, then, into obedience and acquiescence. It
is in your power to make this change an easy one
for all parties. Confide in Mrs. Jeckyl. You will
find her worthy of all confidence."
"Believe me, my dear child," (Mrs. Jeckyl took
up the theme in a peculiarly insinuating voice, and
with a smile that obliterated nearly every disagree-
able feature in her countenance,) "that I am indeed
your friend. I do not come here as a harsh, exact-


94
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
First impressions are rarely continued. She will
find me considerate, just, and sympathizing. I have
been young, and can well remember the days of
girlhood. Indeed, the child in me is not all extin-
guished yet. I like your daughter's face, and see in
it the index of a mind to which judicious culture
will give strength and beauty."
"Thank you for the prophecy," said Mrs. Dainty,
highly pleased with this well-timed remark. "I
have seen that Agnes possessed more than ordinary
endowments, and that all she wanted was a judicious
instructor, who could be at the same time a wise and
loving friend. Be that to her, Mrs. Jeckyl, and you
will have our everlasting gratitude."
"Trust me, madam, that I will seek the highest
good of your children in all things," was replied in
a manner that was meant to be impressive, but
which so thinly veiled the hypocrite that Agnes,
whose eyes were upon the woman's face, curled her
lip in almost involuntary contempt.
"Call George and Madeline," said Mrs. Dainty,
but little encouraged by Agnes's reception of the
governess, and anxious to get matters settled be-
tween this latter personage and the children as
quickly as possible.
Agnes left the room, and soon returned with her
brother and sister. Madeline entered with a de-


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON. 95
I
mure face, and shy, timid air; while George bounded
in, boy-like, shouting at the top of his voice.
"George!" Mrs. Dainty held up her finger in a
warning way.
George checked his rude manner, and stood with
his large eyes fixed curiously upon the face of Mrs.
Jeckyl, who tried to put on a most winning counte-
nance. But, so far as the boy was concerned, her
eftbrt was entirely fruitless. To him her aspect was
wholly repulsive.
""What old woman is this, mamma?" he asked,
looking from Mrs. Jeckyl to his mother.
"Why, George! George! Hush! What do you
mean? Where are your manners?" And the face
of Mrs. Dainty crimsoned.
"You see, Mrs. Jeckyl," she said, trying to apolo-
gize for the child's rudeness, "how our children ape
the coarse manners of these vulgar American do-
mestics. Miss Harper, the governess whom I have
just dismissed, has left her mark behind her, as you
see; and a very ugly mark it is."
"She isn't ugly at all!" exclaimed George, by no
means comprehending the drift of his mother's re-
mark, but understanding clearly enough that Miss
Harper was the subject of disparaging words.
"She's beautiful, and I love her. I do!"
"Madeline dear,"—Mrs. Dainty turned from


96 THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
George, over whom she had but little influence,
and spoke very pleasantly,—" let me present you to
Mrs. Jeckyl, who is to be your governess in the
place of Miss Harper."
But the child, instead of advancing toward Mrs.
Jeckyl, stepped back slowly,—as if the woman's
eyes were two broad, strong hands, pushing her
away,—receding until she stood against the wall.
"Madeline! Come here this moment! What do
you mean?" Mrs. Dainty spoke sharply.
The child now moved, sideling, along the wall,
keeping her gaze fixed, as by a kind of fascination,
upon Mrs. Jeckyl, until she came opposite to where
her mother was sitting. Then, not withdrawing
her eyes for an instant from the strange woman's
face, she came forward and stood by her mother's
side.
"This is my second daughter, Madeline," said
Mrs. Dainty, pushing the child toward Mrs. Jeckyl.
"How are you, my dear?" Mrs. Jeckyl, seeming
not to observe the intense repugnance of the child,
reached out a hand, and, taking hold of Madeline,
drew her.almost forcibly to her side.
"What a nice little girl!" she said, holding her
tightly in one hand, and smoothing her hair with
the other. "What sweet curls! Where did you
get them, dear?"


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
97
But Madeline, with a flushed, half-frightened
face, tried to release herself from the woman's firm
grip.
"What dear children you have!" said Mrs.
Jeckyl, now insinuating an arm around Madeline,
and continuing to smooth her hair with gentle but
regularly-repeated passes. "We shall be the best
of friends in a little while. I shall love them very
much."
Once or twice Madeline, over whose face rapid
changes were passing, (at one moment it was deeply
flushed, and at the next overspread by a strange
pallor,) made a spring in the effort to release her-
self. But the hand of Mrs. Jeckyl, that was upon
her arm, tightened to a vice-like grasp, while the
other intermitted not for an instant its regular
motions, just above, or slightly touching, her
hair.
"We shall be very good friends, madam,—the
best of friends. I always attach children strongly."
Mrs. Jeckyl spoke confidently, and like one wholly
at her ease.
At this moment Mrs. Dainty became oppressed
with a feeling of vague terror, united with an almost
intolerable repugnance toward Mrs. Jeckyl; and it
was with an effort that she overcame the impulse to
Bpring forward and snatch Madeline from her invest-
Q »


98 THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
ing arm. A little while she struggled weakly against
this strange feeling; then it passed slowly away,
aud, like one awakening from a dream, she found
the current of her life moving on once more in its
regular channels. But she had a different impres-
sion of Mrs. Jeckyl, and a new feeling toward her.
It seemed as if they had been suddenly removed
from each other, and to so great a distance that
immediate contact was forever impossible. She
was about suggesting that it might be as well for
Mrs. Jeckyl to defer until the next day her formal
entrance into the family, when she observed a
change in Madeline, who, instead of endeavoring
to get away from the new governess, now leaned
against her, although the hand that held her a little
while before was no longer closed upon her arm.
Almost at the moment of noticing this, Mrs. Jeckyl
raised the unresisting child to her lap, who leaned
her head back against her, and gazed up into her
face with a pleased, confiding, almost affectionate,
look.
"I said we would be good friends." Mrs. Jeckyl
glanced with an exultant smile toward Mrs. Dainty.
"I understand the art of attaching children. What
a dear, sweet child this is! I promise myself a world
of pleasure in entering into her pure young mind


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
99
and storing it with lessons of wisdom. And your
oldest daughter"
Mrs. Jeckyl turned her glittering eyes—that
seemed to have in them a charmed power—upon
Agnes.
For a moment or two the young girl was retained
by them, as if a spell were on her: then she turned
away and fled from the room, her whole being per-
vaded by a strange sense of fear.
Not in the smallest degre^ did Mrs. Jeckyl seem
to be disconcerted at this.
"Young people have curious fancies," she said,
in an even voice. "I am used to them, and know
how to adapt myself to all these variant peculiari-
ties. Give yourself no further trouble about my
position with your children. I will manage all that.
Leave me now with Madeline and George. I want
to make their better acquaintance. Come, Georgie
dear; I have in my pocket the funniest little box,
with the funniest little man in it, you ever saw in
your life."
The funny little box, and the funny little man,
won over the romping boy, and he went to the side
of Mrs. Jeckyl without a moment's hesitation.
It was as much as Mrs. Dainty could do to tear
herself from the apartment and leave her two little


100
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
children alone with this woman. She felt a vague
sense of evil. A shadow, as from the wing of
danger, seemed to have fallen upon her spirit. But
Mrs. Jeckyl asked to be alone with them, and she
felt that she must retire.


THE ANGEL AND TOE DEMON.
101
CHAPTER X.
A LITTLE BREEZE.
"Who is that old woman I met on the stairs just
now?" inquired Mr. Fleetwood, late in the afternoon
of the day made memorable by the entrance of Mrs.
Jeckyl into the Dainty family.
"It is our new governess," replied Agnes, to
whom the question was addressed. A look of dis-
gust marred her face as she spoke.
"Your new governess!"' exclaimed Uncle John,
in amazement. "When did she come, and where
from?"
"She came two hours ago; but whether she
dropped from the clouds, or was dug out of the earth,
is more than I can tell. She's horrible! I don't
know what's come over mother!"
"Who is she? What is her name?"
"A wicked-looking old woman, whom mother
calls an accomplished English lady. Her name is
Jeckyl."
"Jeckyl? Jeckyl?" Uncle John shook his
head. "Never heard of her before."
9*


102
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
"Nor anybody else but mother. And where she
found her, the dear only knows!"
"Why was Florence Harper sent away?"
A sad expression came into the face of Agnes, as
she replied,—
"My fault, I suppose. In my blind self-will, I
resisted her when she was right and I was wrong;
and I complained of her unjustly. Mother talked
very roughly to her,—she's always done that; and
then—and then, I believe, Miss Harper went
away."
"Miss Harper was a kind, good girl," said Uncle
John, "and tried always to do what was right. I
am sorry you misunderstood or resisted her, for she
was the best friend you will ever find in a gover-
ness."
"I know she was, uncle; and I have learned it
just too late. Oh, I would give any thing in the
world to have her back again."
"I must see your mother at once," said Uncle
John. "Where is she?"
"In her own room."
"Will you say that I want her?"
Agnes went to her mother's room.
"Uncle John wishes to see you," said she.
"What does he want to see me about?" asked
Mrs. Dainty.


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
103
"I don't know. He's waiting for you over in the
sitting-room."
"Tell him I'm engaged just now."
But that reply didn't suit Uncle John at all. His
niece had no business to be engaged, to him!
"What is she doing?" he inquired of Agnes.
"Reading."
"Ah, well! If she can't come to me, I can, at
least, go to her." And Uncle John left the sitting-
room. Mrs. Dainty started and looked confused as
Mr. Fleetwood entered her chamber.
• "Very particularly engaged?" said the old gentle-
man, a little sarcastically.
"I didn't imagine that your business was one of
life and death!" retorted Mrs. Dainty, with height-
ening color.
"And yet it may be, for all your defect of imagi-
nation," said the old man, seating himself with the
air of one who had something on his mind.
"Where is Florence Harper?"
"That is a question not in my power to answer,"
replied Mrs. Dainty. "She left here some hours
ago."
"Why did she leave?"
"I sent her away."
"For what cause?"
"She did not suit me."


104
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
"In what respect?"
"In all respects."
"A sweeping range of objections, truly. May I
ask another question?"
"Forty, if you like."
"Who is that old woman I met on the stairs a
little while ago?"
"Old woman! I've seen no old woman." Mrs.
Dainty emphasized the last words.
"A middle-aged woman, then, with a hard—
almost wicked—face. She was dressed in black."
"Our new governess, probably," said Mrs. Dainty.
"That old hag your new governess!" Uncle
John felt outraged, and spoke intemperately.
"I beg of you not to use such language, Uncle
John." Mrs. Dainty afi'ected calmness, and spoke
in a tone of quiet rebuke. "The person to whom
you refer is an accomplished English lady, whose
husband—a man of rank, I believe—died in the
East India Company's service."
"Poh! A cast-off, superannuated lady's maid,
more like!" retorjed Uncle John, with overflowing
indignation.
"This is insufferable!" exclaimed Mrs. Dainty,
losing temper.
"What is insufferable?"


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON. 105
It was Uncle John's turn to assume an exterior
calmness.
"Your unwarrantable interference in our family
concerns! It has come to a pretty pass when I can-
not even buy a beefsteak, or turn off a disorderly
domestic, but you must interfere in the matter and
volunteer an ignorant condemnation. To tell you
the plain truth, Uncle John, I am getting very tired
of this, and wish it to end. I didn't consult you
about this affair, because I didn't think it one in
which you had any rights or interest."
"Indeed! You ignore my interests quite sum-
marily. Pray, did you consult your husband?"
inquired Mr. Fleetwood.
"No, I did not!" was replied. "There was no
occasion to worry his mind on the subject."
"Probably you thought he had no more right in
the case than your troublesome old uncle," said Mr.
Fleetwood, sarcastically.
"Whether he had or not doesn't signify in the
present controversy," replied Mrs. Dainty, still
showing a great deal of angry excitement, "I chose
to send away an offensive, upstart American girl,
who didn't know her place, and who kept the chil-
dren by the ears half of the time, and take in her
6tead an accomplished, middle-aged lady, with years


106 THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
and experience on her side. I have no question in
regard to my husband's acquiescence, and therefore
shall not permit you to hector me on the subject.
So pray, Uncle John, spare me any further annoy-
ance! It will only tend to produce, in both of us,
states of unkinduess."
"Where so much is at stake, I must venture
much," said Mr. Fleetwood. "I pray you, in turn,
be not offended, if I press you on this subject. The
love I bear for you and these children will not let
me keep silence. You have strangely misappre-
hended Florence Harper. She"
"Uncle John!" Mrs. Dainty interrupted the old
gentleman, "I have shut the door against her: so
let her name die in this house. I shall not consent
to canvass with you either her good or evil qualities.
I know just as much of her as I ever care to know."
"What do you know of this Mrs. Jeckyl, to whom,
in such mad haste, you have given over the care of
your children? An accomplished English lady? Is
that the extent of your knowledge? Did you ever
hear of her before to-day?"
"Go on, Uncle John! Go on! I will try to be
patient!" said Mrs. Dainty, leaning back in her
chair and forcing to her lips a smile of resignation.
"A fig for your patience! Answer me in
reason!" retorted the old gentleman.


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
107
"I will when I make you my father confessor;
but not before. I have no need at present for such
a ghostly appendage."
In this spirit the controversy went on for more
than half an hour, no advantage whatever being
gained by Uncle John. Mrs. Dainty said that she
had tried a governess of his selection, and tried her
faithfully; and now she was going to try one of her
own choosing, and, if he talked until doomsday, it
would not, in the smallest degree, affect her purposes
in the case.
Most reluctantly did Mr. Fleetwood consent to
abandon the argument. He felt that too much was
at stake. But a woman's will in the case was alto-
gether too strong for him. Mrs. Dainty had made
up her mind to have her own way, and all remon-
strance, argument, and persuasion went with her for
nothing.


108 THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
CHAPTER XL
THE DEMON UNVEILED.
"Such a scene as I have had with that meddle-
some old uncle of mine!" said Mrs. Dainty to Mrs.
Jeckyl. The two ladies met in the room of the
latter, whither Mrs. Dainty repaired as soon as Mr.
Fleetwood, hopeless of gaining any influence over
her, had retired, discomfited, from the field of con-
troversy.
"On what subject?" inquired the new governess.
"Oh, about you!" said Mrs. Dainty.
"About me? What about me?" The small,
gray eyes of Mrs. Jeckyl lightened.
"I told you that Miss Harper, that abominable
girl I sent oft" to-day, was a pet of his."
"Ah, yes; I remember. Well, there's one thing
very certain, madam: he'll find no pet or plaything
in me!" There was the look of an ogre in the
woman's skinny face. "I met him on the stairs an
hour ago: one glance told me his character. I read
him like a book."
"How did you read him?" asked Mrs. Dainty.


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON. 109
"He's an old cot-betty! A thing I despise!"
said Mrs. Jeckyl, with contempt.
"He's kind-hearted." Mrs. Dainty uttered a word
of apology for Uncle John. It came from her lips
almost unbidden.
"Kind-hearted! Any fool may be kind-hearted,"
said Mrs. Jeckyl, "and yet be very annoying in his
folly. I never had much fancy for what are called
kind-hearted people by way of apology for a thou-
sand annoying vices and defects of character."
"Uncle John has few defects of character, and no
vices." Mrs. Dainty could not help this just defence
of her excellent relative.
"By your own showing, madam," said Mrs.
Jeckyl, affecting a pleasant tone, "he is very much
inclined to be meddlesome in your affairs: that I
call a vice. If you think the appellation too severe,
you can call the peculiarity by another name. I
can't tolerate such men!"
"I don't ask your toleration of him. Only avoid,
if possible, giving offence. For my mother's sake,
if not for his own, I must bear with him and treat
him with all considerate kindness."
"I'll manage him," said Mrs. Jeckyl. "So don't
give yourself any trouble about his interference with
my duties or privileges in the house."
There was considerable modification in the tone
10


110
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
and manner of Mrs. Jeckyl. She saw that she had
shown her rough side a little too plainly, and that
there were reasons why Mrs. Dainty could not ignore
Uncle John altogether.
"You must bear as kindly as possible with his
peculiarities. lie means well," said Mrs. Dainty, as
a very feeling sense of her many obligations to
Uncle John, past, present, and to come, grew dis-
tinct in her mind.
"He won't trouble me any." Mrs. Jeckyl smiled
in a lamb-like way,—or, rather, tried so to smile.
But the effort was one so unusual to her that she
failed in the result; and Mrs. Dainty was in some
doubt as to the meaning of the curious expression
that came into the woman's face. She had visited
the room of Mrs. Jeckyl for the purpose of having
a very free talk about Uncle John, and also for the
purpose of settling with that lady some very decided
plans of operation in regard to him. But the spirit
in which Mrs. Jeckyl showed herself disposed to
act rather cooled her ardor, and set her to thinking
in a new direction.
The conference closed almost abruptly, and little
to the satisfaction of either party. Mrs. Dainty
more than half repented of her hasty action in
taking this strange woman into the house and giving
over her children to a guardianship and an influence


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON. Ill
that might be for evil instead of good. When her
husband questioned her, she put as bold a face upon
the matter as was possible,—denouncing Miss Har-
per in unmeasured terms, and extolling the edu-
cated, accomplished English lady whom she had
been so fortunate as to secure in her place.
"It is best, sometimes, to let well-enough alone,"
said Mr. Dainty, on learning from his wife the
change she had seen proper to make in a matter of
so much importance. "And I think Miss Harper
was at least well enough."
This was all he remarked, and Mrs. Dainty saw
it best to leave the matter, so far as he was con-
cerned, just there. His easy indifference left her
generally free to do about as she pleased: so, when-
ever he failed of prompt acquiescence in any course
she designed to take, she pursued the easy policy of
not disturbing his mind on the subject.
"Oh, she's hateful! I'll get a gun and shoot her!"
It was little George who thus freely expressed his
indignant appreciation of the new governess. He
was talking to Madeline; and they were near enough
to their mother's door to be heard distinctly.
"I wish Miss Harper was back again," said Made-
line. Her voice had a mournful sound in the ears
of Mrs. Dainty. "I loved her so."
"Miss Harper Was good, but this old woman is


112
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
hateful. What made you sit in her lap and lean
your head against her?"
"I don't know. I couldn't help it," replied Made-
line, still speaking in a kind of plaintive way. "I
wish mother would send her out of the house. I'm
afraid of her."
"I'm not afraid of her!" spoke out little George,
boldly. "And I don't mean to say a single lesson."
"That won't be right," said Madeline. "She is
our teacher, you know."
"She isn't my teacher if I don't choose; and I
don't choose," responded young America. "I'll say
my lessons to Miss Harper; and I won't say them
to anybody else."
"Madeline dear!" It was a new voice among
the interlocutors, and the tones send a strange thrill
among the nerves of Mrs. Dainty,
All was silent for some moments. The presence
of the new-comer seemed to have thrown a spell
over the children.
"Come, dear; I want to show you something
beautiful I have in my room."
Mrs. Dainty sat breathlessly still, listening. There
was the sound as of a child rising slowly from the
floor.
"Come, George." It was the same voice.
"A'n't a-going to!" was the quick, sturdy reply.


114
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
Jeckyl, "who has been frightening her with the
story of a snake in my room. How dare you do so,
sir?"
""Well, so you have!" persisted little Don't Care.
"I saw it. There it is now, in your bosom! See!
If its head isn't peeping out alongside of your
neck!"
It was now Mrs. Jeckyl's turn to start and look
frightened. So natural and earnest was the boy's
tones, that even she was for a moment deceived,
and clutched convulsively at the imaginary snake.
"Too bad!" she exclaimed, recovering herself.
"Too bad!"
Others soon joined the little group at the door of
Mrs. Dainty's chamber; for the cry of Madeline had
reached every ear in the dwelling. Among the first
to arrive was Uncle John.
"She did it!" cried George, pointing to Mrs.
Jeckyl. "She did it!"
"Did what?" asked Uncle John.
"Frightened Maddy! She's got a snake in her
bosom! Take care!"
"A snake!" Uncle John looked puzzled.
"I saw it in her room; and she's got it in her
bosom- now," persisted the little fellow, quite de-
lighted in observing the storm he had raised, and
more delighted at the discomfiture of the enemy.


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON. 115
"You wicked little wretch!" exclaimed Mrs.
Jeckyl, advancing toward the boy.
George glided behind Uncle John, and, peering
oat from his place of refuge, made a new attack.
"They're in her eyes now! Don't let her come
near you, sister Aggy! Take care, papa! Old snake!
She's the mother of snakes! See! They're crawling
all over her!"
A tiger about to spring upon his victim could not
have glared with two more cruel eyes than those
that sought the form of little George.
"Silence!" cried Mr. Dainty, who had joined the
excited company. "Silence!" he repeated, sternly,
as George attempted to speak again. ""What does
all this mean?"
"It simply means," said Mrs. Jeckyl, with forced
composure, "that this little boy of yours has fright-
ened his sister with an improbable story of a snake
in my room. He seems to have a fruitful imagina-
tion, as he now multiplies the snake by a score, and
covers my body with them."
Uncle John now observed Madeline, who stood
with her face hidden upon her mother's bosom, and
shrinking very closely to her, turn her head slowly
and look at Mrs. Jeckyl. Her countenance was
pale, and her eyes had a strange—almost terrified—
expression. She gave only a single glance, and then


116
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
hid her face again, while a low shudder was seen
pervading her body.
"It is plain," said Uncle John, taking advantage
of the singular state of affairs presented, and address-
ing the new governess, "that your efforts to gain
influence over these children have been unsuccessful,
and that, judging from the present state of affairs,
such efforts in the future will be hopeless. My ad-
vice to you, therefore, is to retire immediately."
"I have no knowledge of you, sir, in the case,"
replied Mrs. Jeckyl, growing at once self-possessed,
and speaking with dignity. "Iam here, under regular
engagement with Mrs. Dainty, to perform a service
to her children, for which I hold myself entirely
competent, and to recede from which under the
reaction' of simple child's-play like this I am not in
the least inclined. Am I covered with snakes, sir?"
"Not literally," replied Uncle John.
"Not literally! What am I to understand, sir, by
your words?"
"Simply the meaning they convey to your mind.
Nothing more."
"Are there snakes in my eyes?" The woman was
losing her forced composure.
"Say yes, Uncle John! Say yes!" spoke out little
George.
"If you look into a mirror, you can see for your-


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
117
self," replied the old gentleman, who, now that he
had come fairly into conflict with the stranger, de-
termined to adopt any mode of warfare that would
drive her from the house. "I don't wonder that
you frightened Madeline."
"Uncle John!" Mrs. Dainty now made a feeble
effort to speak in favor of her new governess. "This
is insufferable! Am I to have no control in my own
house? Are people to be insulted"
"Oh, mother! mother! send her away!"
It was Madeline who interrupted Mrs. Dainty, as
she lifted her face with a look of such pleading fear
that it checked her utterance. And the shudder
that thrilled the child's frame was so strong that it
sent the blood coldly to her mother's heart.
"Madam!" (Mr. Dainty now assumed the con-
trolling power, and spoke to Mrs. Jeckyl like a man
who was in earnest,) "after this scene you cannot
remain here in any comfort to yourself, nor in any
acceptance in our family. I beg you, therefore, to
retire from the house, and at once."
"Sir "Mrs. Jeckyl made an effort to reply,
but Mr. Dainty would have no parley with her.
"Madeline," he said, laying his hand upon his wife
and speaking very firmly, "go into your room with
Maddy and George; and youj Agnes, leave us."
There was no hesitation on the part of any thus


118 THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
addressed, for all, except George, were more than
glad to get out of the presence of Mrs. Jeckyl. He,
—little rebel!—as he went at his father's bidding,
looked back over his shoulder, and called out,—
"Snakes! Snakes!"
As soon as Mrs. Jeckyl was alone with Mr. Dainty
and Uncle John, and found herself without any
chance of holding the place she was in reality parti-
cularly desirous to retain, she gave full course to
her indignant feelings, and for some minutes poured
forth a torrenfof mad invective. Not a single word
was said in reply; and so, like one beating the air, she
soon exhausted herself. Her departure was like the
lifting of a storm-cloud from the dwelling of Mr.
Dainty; but the storm did not pass without leaving
some traces of its evil work. Scarcely had Mr. Dainty
seen this woman beyond the threshold, ere he was
startled by a cry of distress from his wife, and the
eager calling of his name, On reaching the chamber
from which her voice came, he saw Madeline lying
upon the bed, pale and deathly in appearance; and
when he laid his hands upon her he found that she
was rigid and insensible.


120 THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
least, not satisfactorily. To me her state is unac-
countable."
"Had she a fall, or a fright?" asked the physi-
cian.
"Neither. And yet her mind was seriously dis-
turbed."
"By what?"
"I can scarcely explain, for I am in doubt my-
self."
"Perhaps your wife can answer my questions
more clearly." And the physician addressed him-
self to Mrs. Dainty. But the mother was silent.
To her mind there was a deep mystery in the
affair. That Madeline's state was, in some way,
dependent upon Mrs. Jeckyl's influence over her,
she had a vague conviction. But as to the manner
and meaning of this influence she was in total
ignorance.
"Will you inform me, as briefly as possible, as to
the condition of things existing at the time this par-
tial suspension of life took place?"
The physician addressed Mrs. Dainty.
"I think she was frightened at something said by
George," Mrs. Dainty answered.
"What was that something?"
"He said that our governess had a snake in her
bosom, and that snakes were crawling all over her."


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON. 121
The doctor looked thoughtfully upon the floor,
and waited for additional information. But Mrs.
Dainty said nothing further. Little George was
standing close to the bedside. As the doctor
raised his head, his eyes rested upon the boy's face.
"I think," he said, as he looked at the bright-
eyed child, "that you must have seen very sharp to
find serpents about Miss Harper."
"Oh, it wasn't Miss Harper!" replied the boy, in
a quick tone: "she's lovely!"
"Who, then, was it? I thought Miss Harper was
governess to your children?" And the physician
turned to Mrs. Dainty.
"No, sir; Miss Harper is no longer the governess
of my children."
There was a certain coldness of manner about
Mrs. Dainty that was meant to repress inquiry on
this particular subject.
"I hope, madam," said the doctor, speaking with
some earnestness, and a little severity of tone,
"that you will be as unreserved as possible in your
communications. Unless I have all the informa-
tion in regard to the cause of Madeline's illness
that it is in your power to give me, it will be im-
possible to prescribe intelligently, or with any
hope of reaching the case. Miss Harper, I
understand, then, was not the person to whom
11


122
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
your little son referred as having a snake in her
bosom?"
As Mrs. Dainty did not reply immediately, Uncle
John spoke out in his blunt way, and right to the
purpose, saying,—
"No, it was not Miss Harper, but a wicked old
hag that my niece picked up somewhere. If I had
any faith in witchcraft, I would believe that she had
laid a spell on Madeline."
The doctor now turned to Uncle John.
"When did this new governess of whom you
speak come into the family?"
"To-day."
"Only to-day?"
"She came into the house only a few hours
ago."
"Was Madeline well this morning?"
"Perfectly."
"This is a sudden illness, then?"
"So I understand it," replied Uncle John. "How
is it, Agnes?" And he spoke to the sister of Made-
line, who was leaning over the bed, gazing with
wet eyes upon her pallid face. "Did Madeline
show any symptoms of illness before this sudden
attack?"
"She has acted strangely ever since Mrs. Jeckyl
came into the house."


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
123
"Mrs. Jeckyl!" said the physician, in a tone of
surprise.
The eyes of all turned quickly to his face with
looks of inquiry.
"Do you know this woman?" asked Mr. Dainty.
"I am not certain. But I think I have heard the
name before." There was an air of evasion about
the doctor.
"She is an Englishwoman," remarked Mr. Fleet-
wood.
The doctor looked at Agnes, and pursued his in-
quiries.
"Acted strangely, you say. In what respect?"
"I can hardly explain, sir," replied Agnes.
"But I have heard tell of birds being charmed by
serpents; and the way Madeline acted toward Mrs.
Jeckyl made me think all the while of a bird and
a serpent. I do not much wonder that Georgie saw
snakes in her eyes. They were the strangest eyes I
ever looked into, and made me shudder. She's
done something dreadful to Madeline!"
"Were they alone together?" inquired the phy-
sician.
"For a little while."
"Did Madeline seem repelled, or attracted, by
this woman?*'
"Both. She appeared to be drawn toward her,


124
T1IE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
yet acted like one struggling to get away. Oh, sir,
it was dreadful! I never met so terrible a woman!
Her eyes shone, sometimes, like coals of fire. I
was afraid of her."
"Did you see her put her hands on Madeline?"
"Yes, sir."
"In what manner?"
"She held her with one hand, while with the
other she smoothed her hair."
"Did Madeline try to get away?"
"At first she did; but after a while all her strug-
gles ceased, and she laid her head back against her,
half shutting her eyes, and looking like one just
going to sleep."
The doctor's countenance assumed a still graver
aspect.
"Was this woman an entire stranger?" he asked,
in tones of surprise, turning to Mrs. Dainty.
"She came highly recommended by Mrs. Ashton,
as an accomplished Englishwoman, the widow of a
distinguished officer who died in the service of the
East India Company."
"Iler own story, I suppose, believed by Mrs.
Ashton without evidence. And on this slight
knowledge of the woman you placed these tender,
impressible children under her control!"
And the doctor shook his head ominously.


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
125
"There has been harm -done here," he added,
"beyond my skill to cure."
"What harm?" Mrs. Dainty's face grew sud-
denly as pale- as the face of her unconscious
child.
"Do you not know, madam," said the doctor,
"that there are men and women at this day who
possess an evil power over the minds of those who
submit themselves to their influence, stronger than
even the witch of Endor possessed of old,—persons'
in mysterious league with evil spirits, who delight
through them to break down the soul's God-given
freedom and make it the slave of their will? If
this were my child, I would rather a thousand times
see her pass upward into heaven than live on here
exposed to the assaults of infernal spirits, who, in
my opinion, have gained admittance to her through
this evil woman's power!"
"Doctor," said Mr. Fleetwood, laying his hand
upon the physician's arm with some firmness of
clasp, "no more of that, if you please! It is neither
the time nor the place!"
"I stand rebuked," answered the doctor. "But
I feel strongly on this subject, and am apt to speak
warmly."
"Time is passing," said Mr. Fleetwood, "and
every moment is precious. This child needs your
11*


126
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
most skilful attention. I think you understand
her case as fully as it can be understood through
any further explanation at this time. We place
her in your hands. Do for her Jg> the utmost of
your skill."


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
CHAPTER Xm.
DOUBT AND ANXIETY.
It was nearly two hours from the time the phy-
sician entered the house of Mr. Dainty before he
retired, and then the night had fallen. He left
Madeline in a natural slumber, and with her pulses
beating evenly. She had recovered from her al-
most cataleptic condition with the rapidity of one
awakening, and showed a tranquil rather than dis-
turbed state of mind. The presence of the doctor
seemed a little to surprise her, and she asked, as
she looked from face to face, who had been sick.
Soon after, like one overwearied, she sunk into a
gentle sleep.
Before retiring from the house, the physician had
a long conversation with Mr. Dainty and Mr. Fleet-
wood, in which he gave it as his opinion that Mrs.
Jeckyl had attempted to gain a mesmeric influence
over Madeline, and with a successful result that it
was frightful to contemplate.
"She looked to me like a very fiend incarnate,"
said Mr. Fleetwood. "I can believe any thing


128
TIIE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
against her as to evil purpose; but I am hardly pre-
pared to reach your conclusion in the case."
"Has the child ever shown symptoms of nervous
disease at all resembling her present affection?"
"Never," replied Mr. Dainty.
"You heard Agnes describe the way in which she
acted toward this woman?"
"Yes."
"Was it not remarkable?"
"Very."
"Have you any theory in regard to it different
from mine?"
"I have no theory on the subject," said Mr.
Dainty. "The whole thing is beyond my reach."
"Are you familiar with these modern phe-
nomena, which some call, oddly enough, spiritual-
ism?"
A look of disgust came into the face of Mr.
Dainty, as he answered,—
"No."
"If you were familiar with them, either from
reading or observation," said the doctor, "you
might be inclined to think as I do touching your
daughter's sudden terror, which was followed by so
deep a prostration of mind and body."
"Her imagination," said Mr. Fleetwood, "is no
doubt far more active than we had supposed, and


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
129
she may have an idiosyncrasy in regard to snakes
which threw her into a condition of paralyzing
terror when George declared that the woman
had serpents crawling all over her. I am sure
that her eyes were remarkably snaky at the time.
This, to me, is a more intelligible explanation."
The doctor did not urge his view of the case,
although his response to Mr. Fleetwood was not of
a character to show any leaning, on his part, to that
gentleman's opinion. After charging them to keep
Madeline as free as possible from all disturbing
influences, he went away, promising to call in the
morning.
Before making his visit to the house of Mr.
Dainty on the next day, the doctor, whose mind
had become very much interested in Madeline's
case, called to see Mrs. Ashton, whom he knew very
well. After making a few friendly inquiries about
her family, he said,—
"You recommended to Mrs. Dainty an English-
woman as a suitable person to take the place of
governess to her children?"
An expression of surprise came into the face of
Mrs. Ashton, as she answered,—
"I have not the pleasure of an acquaintance with
Mrs. Dainty."
For a moment the doctor looked puzzled. Before


130
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
he had time to put another question, Mrs. Ashton
said,—
"There is an Englishwoman named Jeckyl"
"The same! What do you know of her?" The
doctor spoke quickly, interrupting the lady.
"Very little," replied Mrs. Ashton. "But why
do you question me in regard to this woman, Dr.
Edmonson?"
"Mrs. Dainty engaged her on your recommenda-
tion."
"On my recommendation!"
"Yes."
"In the first place, doctor, I don't know Mrs.
Dainty, except by sight; and, in the second place,
I have never recommended Mrs. Jeckyl to any-
body."
"There has been some deception, then," said Dr.
Edmonson.
"There certainly has, if I have been made to en-
dorse the woman. I did speak of her, to one or
two persons, as an Englishwoman who desired to
get the situation of governess, and I may have
spoken of her as educated and accomplished,—not
so much from my knowledge of her acquirements
as from her own testimony in the case. And now
I remember that somebody told me that Mrs. Dainty
was about changing her governess, and that I men-


THE ANGEL AND TIIE DEMON.
131
tioned this to Mrs. Jeckyl and advised her to see
about the matter. This is the utmost of my doings
in the case."
"What is your impression of the woman?" in-
quired the doctor.
"Not particularly favorable," said Mrs. Ashton.
"I can hardly tell how she got access to my family
in the beginning. At first I pitied her lonely and
almost helpless condition in a strange country,
and felt some interest in her; but this interest
has steadily diminished, until now the woman is
so repulsive that I can scarcely endure her pre-
sence."
"And this is all you know of her?"
"All; and I am pained to think that she has been
received into any family on my supposed recom-
mendation. I should not like her to have a con-
trolling influence over my children. But pray,
doctor, what has happened in connection with her
and Mrs. Dainty's family? I hope she has not been
robbing them, or any thing of that kind?"
"Nothing of that kind," answered the doctor.
"But I'm afraid she has been attempting mesmeric
influence over one of Mrs. Dainty's children."
"Dr. Edmonson!"
There was about Mrs. Ashton a peculiar tone and
manner that excited the doctor's curiosity.


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON. 133
you would be better,' said Mrs. Jeckyl, as if speak-
ing to herself. Once or twice since, in thinking of
this incident, I have had a vague impression that
the sleep of Emmeline on that occasion was not a
natural one, and that it depended, in some way, on
the act of Mrs. Jeckyl."
"I have no doubt of it," said Dr. Edmonson.
"You have not?"
"No: evidently the woman transferred, for the
time, some will-force of her own to the child, pro-
ducing temporary unconsciousness. Her spirit over-
shadowed the helpless little one."
The words of Dr. Edmonson sent a shudder along
the. nerves of Mrs. Ashton.
"You frighten me!" she said.
"You have cause to be frightened. When half-
insane men and women step beyond the orderly
course of natural life and invoke powers of evil—
for all things disorderly are evil—to enable them to
exercise a mysterious and controlling influence over
their weaker fellow men and women, there is subtle
danger abroad, more fearful in its effects than the
invisible pestilence walking in darkness and wasting
at noonday. It is no light thing, Mrs. Ashton, to
disturb the divine harmonies of the human soul,—
to thrust an impious hand boldly down among its
hidden strings! I am amazed at the folly and weak-
1:2


134
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
ness that prevail oh this subject,—at the singular
infatuation of well-meaning persons, who permit
themselves to become the instruments of invisible
powers and influences the quality of which even the
feeblest reason might determine. To hear some of
these persons talk confidently, and with self-satisfied
tone and countenance, about penetrating the arcana
of the spiritual world, excites my mirth sometimes,
but oftener affects me with sadness."
"I have two or three friends," said Mrs. Ashton,
"who have been carried away by these things, and
their lapse from reason has caused me deep re-
gret."
"You rightly designate their state of mind," re-
plied, the doctor, "as a lapse from reason. No mind
possessing a true rational balance is in any danger of
falling from its mountain-height and crystal atmo-
sphere, where every thing is seen in its true relation,
down into this miry valley, where the thick atmo-
sphere distorts every object and mirage adds its
mocking illusions. I am in no wonder at the re-
sult,—at toppling reason, lapsing virtue, desolated
homes! Every tree may be known by its fruit; and
the product of this has shown itself to be evil from
rind to core!
"Never again, Mrs. Ashton, permit this woman
Jeckyl to darken your chambers with the shadow


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
135
of her presence. If she have once brought your
little Emmeline under this direful influence of which
we are speaking, she has disturbed the natural order
of her mind and gained a certain power over her.
A second trance will be induced more easily than
the first. Even by her serpent-eye she may cast on
her a spell."
Mrs. Ashton grew pale and shuddered.
"I warn you in plain words," added the doctor,
"speaking as I think, and from a solemn sense of
duty. Mrs. Jeckyl, if I am to judge by the way in
which her presence and active sphere affected one
of Mrs. Dainty's children, has a potency of will al-
most irresistible. In Madeline's efforts at resistance
—for she manifested from the very beginning an
intense repugnance toward the woman—she was
thrown into a condition of trance profound almost
as death. The state in which I discovered her,
when summoned by the family, was not that of an
ordinary suspension of vital powers. I saw in an
instant that extraordinary causes had been at work.
And I now fully comprehend the case. There has
been a disturbance of the order of that child's life
that may never be corrected. Ah, Mrs. Ashton, a
mother can never be too careful in the selection of
those who are to be the daily companions, and, I
might say, educators, of her children!"


136
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
From the house of Mrs. Ash ton, Dr. Edmonson
went to Mrs. Dainty's. He found Madeline as well,
apparently, as usual, and her mother's cheerfulness
restored. He made an effort to startle her mind
with a clear apprehension of the danger through
which the child had just passed, but only partially
succeeded. Mrs. Dainty hadn't much faith, she said,
in the strange stories told about the power of mes-
merists, and considered nine-tenths of the alleged
phenomena as sheer delusion. She could under-
stand how Madeline's repugnance to Mrs. Jeckyl
might have been so strong as to produce vital-sus-
pension for a period; but that Mrs. Jeckyl had
gained any power over her was a thing not to be
admitted for a moment.
The doctor observed Madeline very closely, and
was satisfied that a change had taken place.
"Did you sleep well last night?" he inquired of
her.
"Not very well," was answered.
"Why?"'
"I had ugly dreams, that waked me up."
"Often?"
"Two or three times."
"What did you dream about?"
"I don't know."
"Try if you can remember'one of j our dreams."


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON. 137
"I fell into the water once," said Madeline.
"And that woke you?"
"No, sir; but I thought that Mrs. Jeckyl tried to
push me under, and that made me wake up."
The doctor looked very earnestly into Madeline's
face. Its expression troubled him.
"Can you remember another dream?"
"No, sir: I can't remember any more."
"You may be thankful, Mrs. Dainty," said Dr.
Edmonson, "tnat circumstances so soon showed
the character of this woman. The harm she might
have done your children is inconceivable."
"I think you put too serious a face upon the
matter, doctor," replied Mrs. Dainty.
"Time, I fear, will tell you a different story," said
the doctor, as he arose to depart. "For the present
let me enjoin upon you to keep this child as free as
possible from all disturbing causes."
Mrs. Dainty made no answer, and the doctor,
bowing almost formally, bade her good-morning.
12*
■


138
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
CHAPTER XT7.
painful consequences.
"Madeline."
Mrs. Dainty looked up, a slight expression of
annoyance coming into her face: Uncle John stood
before her.
"Well? What is it?" She did not speak with
an air of encouragement; nor did she by look or
motion give the old gentleman an invitation to sit
down. He had entered the library, where she was
reading.
"I want to have a talk with you about the chil-
dren," said Mr. Fleetwood. He was altogether self-
possessed, and his tone and manner were earnest.
A deeper shade of annoyance passed over the
countenance of Mrs. Dainty.
"You still purpose having a governess?"
"I don't know that I purpose any thing," replied
Mrs. Dainty. "I've had such wretched luck, so far,
with governesses, that I shall hardly feel safe in
trying another."


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
139
""Why not recall Miss Harper?" said Mr. Fleet-
wood.
"Uncle John!" Mrs. Dainty turned upon the old
gentleman a look of indignant surprise.
"The children are all attached to her; and she is
pure-minded, true-hearted, and"
"She's insolent and upstart!" retorted Mrs.
Dainty, with passion; "and I will never have her
back in her old place."
"Ton have altogether misapprehended Florence,"
urged Mr. Fleetwood, with unusual earnestness of
manner.
"I am not apt to misapprehend people," said Mrs.
Dainty, drawing her head up a little proudly.
"Have you noticed Madeline particularly, during
the last few days?" inquired Mr. Fleetwood, after a
pause.
"Particularly? How?" Mrs. Dainty looked
curiously at the old gentleman.
"Do you see no change in her since that remark-
able experience with Mrs. Jeckyl?"
"No," was answered, without hesitation.
"I have."
"Indeed! you are sharp-sighted, Uncle John!"
Mrs. Dainty spoke lightly.
"Love is always sharp-sighted when danger is
about," was sententiously answered.


140 THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
"You are fanciful."
"No, Madeline!" The countenance of Mr. Fleet-
wood became still more serious. "No, Madeline;
I am not a dealer in light fancies, but a man of
sober thoughts and direct purposes, as you have
reason to know. There is a change in our little
pet, and one boding, I fear, unhappy consequences,
unless she is at once surrounded by counteracting
influences. The spirit of that bad woman, in over-
shadowing her, left something of its darkness on
her young spirit."
Mrs. Dainty sighed unconsciously.
"What is the change you have observed, Uncle
John?" she said, her repellant manner subsiding.
"Do you remember to have heard her merry
laugh ringing through the house as of old?"
Mrs. Dainty thought for a moment or two, and
then replied,—
"I do not."
"Do you know where she is now?"
"No."
"Come with me."
The old gentleman arose, and moved toward the
library-door. His niece followed him, with a look
of questioning interest on her countenance.
""Where is she?" The mother spoke in a whisper.
"Step softly," said Mr. Fleetwood.


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
141
From the library they went noiselessly up to the
nursery.
"See!" And the old gentleman directed the
attention of his niece to Madeline, who was sitting
there alone, her back to the door, silent and motion-
less.
"She is reading," whispered the mother.
Uncle John shook his head.
"Madeline!" Mrs.Dainty could not repress the
impulse to speak.
The child started up and turned with something
of a frightened look toward the door.
"What are you doing here all alone?" asked
Mrs. Dainty.
"Nothing," answered the child, looking confused.
"Nothing?"
"No, ma'am."
"How long have you been here alone?"
"I don't know."
"Come down with me to the library."
"I'd rather stay here," replied Madeline.
"And I'd rather have you in the library," said
Mrs. Dainty, with an air of impatience.
"I wasn't doing any thing," urged Madeline.
"I didn't say that you were. But that doesn't
signify. Come down into the library."
"I don't want to go down into the library."


142 THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
"Come! Do you hear me?"
But Madeline stirred not.
Mrs. Dainty was about starting forward to grasp
the child's arm and constrain obedience, when Uncle
John held her back, whispering,—
"Patience! patience! Remember that you are
now dealing with a diseased mind instead of a
healthy one. There is something wrong about the
child, and, if you love her, be prudent."
"You deal in riddles," said Mrs. Dainty, yielding
to the constraining force, of Uncle John. "Dis-
obedience, it strikes me, is a disease that should be
dealt with promptly." She spoke in a'whisper.
"Madeline!" There was a winning tenderness
in the old man's voice that found its way to the
child's heart, for she moved toward Uncle John and
grasped his outstretched hand. The moment she
felt its warm pressure, she shrunk close to his side,
while a pleasant change in her young face revealed
the change which had come over her spirit.
"I want you in the library," said Mrs. Dainty,
firmly. She did not think it right to let the child
have her own way.
"Come," Uncle John spoke, cheerfully; and
moving away, Madeline followed without resistance.
But Mrs. Dainty failed altogether in awakening
an interest in the child's mind. Uncle John, think-


THE ANOEL AND THE DEMON.
143
ing it best to leave them alone for a time, withdrew
from the library. The mother, on whose mind a
pressure of concern had fallen, took down a large
volume of natural history, filled with costly engrav-
ings, and, opening it on a table, drew Madeline's
attention to the pictures.
"Isn't this beautiful?" she said, pausing over a
group of exquisitely-colored birds.
"Yes, ma'am," replied the child, in a tone that
betrayed an entire lack of interest.
"Humming-birds! Oh, how beautiful!" The
tones of Mrs. Dainty's voice were animated. "This
one with golden wings and emerald-green bosom is
like the darling wee bird we saw this spring, flutter-
ing among the honeysuckle-leaves in the garden.
Isn't it sweet?"
"Yes, ma'am."
There was not a ripple of interest in Madeline's
voice.
"Don't you like birds?" inquired the disappointed
mother.
"Yes, ma'am."
"Here are two beautiful doves. How lifelike!
It seems every moment as if they would fly away!
A'n't they lovely, dear?"
"Yes, ma'am."
Mrs. Dainty bent down and looked into the child's


144
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
face. Her eyes were not on the book, but cast
dreamily to the floor, and there was in her counte-
nance a sad expression.
"Madeline!" Mrs. Dainty spoke with a sudden-
ness that caused her child to start and the varying
color to dance over her face.
"What do you mean by this? I don't^ under-
stand you!" Mrs. Dainty's mind was growing con-
fused through impatience.
For an instant Madeline looked frightened, and
then burst into tears.
"What are you crying about, silly child? What
ails you?"
Madeline answered nothing, but wept more vio-
lently.
"Are you sick?"
"No, ma'am," sobbed the unhappy child.
"What's the matter with you, then?"
"I don't know."
"Crying like a baby, and don't know for what?
Shame on you!"
Madeline moved away from her mother's side,
as if a hand had been suddenly pressed against
her.
"Come, now! There's been enough of this!
Dry up your tears at once, and be a good girl!
Here! Let me wipe them all away."


146
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
"Madeline! Answer me, or I will punish you
severely."
The mother had raised her hand to strike a blow,
when Mr. Fleetwood, who remained near the library-
door, came in hastily, and with a look and gesture
warned her against that extremity.
"Uncle John!" exclaimed the excited woman,
losing all patience, "I wish you would mind your
own business, and not interfere with me. You only
encourage this self-willed child in her spirit of dis-
obedience!"
And before Mr. Fleetwood had time to reply she
caught Madeline by the arm, and dragged her from
the library, and through the passages to her own
apartment, the door of which she closed and locked.
"You'll find that I'm in earnest!" she exclaimed,
in a husky but determined voice, as she hurried
Madeline across the room. Seating herself, she
drew the child close in front of her, and, looking
steadily into her face, said,—
"Speak! What do you mean by this conduct?"
The aspect of Madeline's face, as it now appeared
in the eyes of Mrs. Dainty, was so strange that
alarm took the place of anger. All life seemed to
have receded therefrom. The blue lips stood apart,
the eyes were wide open, almost staring, the skin
was of an ashen hue. Lifting her quickly from the


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
147
floor, the mother laid her child upon a bed, and,
after bending over her a few moments anxiously,
went to the door and called Mr. Fleetwood.
"I warned you," said the old gentleman, in a
reproving voice, as he saw the child's condition. "I
told you that you were dealing with a diseased
mind!"
"What can ail her? Oh, Uncle John, send at
once for the doctor!" Mrs. Dainty wrung her hands,
and stood glancing from Madeline to Mr. Fleet-
wood, her countenance pale with fear.
The old gentleman bent down over the child,
laying his hand upon her forehead and breast, and
then searching along her wrists with his fingers.
Her flesh was cold, and damp with perspiration,
and there was so feeble a motion in the heart that
scarcely a wave of life could be felt along the
arteries.
"Oh, send for the doctor! She may die!" Mrs.
Dainty was overwhelmed with distress.
"Be patient. Control yourself, Madeline." Uncle
John spoke with unusual calmness. "Get cold
water and bathe her forehead and temples."
This was done, and signs of more active life fol-
lowed. A warmer color returned to her cheeks;
respiration became deeper; the half-opened eyes


148
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
closed, giving the look of sleep, instead of death, to
her childish face.
"What is the meaning of this? What has come
over the child?" said Mrs. Dainty, breathing more
freely as she saw that a new and healthier action
had supervened: "I don't understand it, Uncle
John."
"There is disease of the mind, Madeline, as I
have been trying for the last hour to make you
understand. Its exact nature cannot at once be
determined. Neither anger nor force will avail any
thing: of that be fully assured."
"But, Uncle John, she must not be permitted to
have her own will entirely. That leads to ruin."
"Of course not. The government of love, wise
and gentle in all its ministrations,—not the govern-
ment of angry force,—must have rule. See into
what a mental paralysis your efforts to compel sub-
mission have thrown her. If her mind's condition
had been a healthy one, this would never have
occurred. Deal with her, then, wisely and gently,
as you would deal with the sick."
Mrs. Dainty sighed deeply, and looked troubled.
"What does it mean, Uncle John? What is the
cause of this strange affection?"
"It was not so before Mrs. Jeckyl came into the
house."


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
149
Mrs. Dainty gave an unwilling assent.
"Something has been done to her by that woman.
If I were a believer in witchcraft I would say that
she had laid a spell upon the child; that Madeline
was under the influence of an evil eye."
"There is something wrong," murmured Mrs.
Dainty, speaking partly to herself,—" something
wrong! I wish I had never seen that dreadful
woman." A low shudder pervaded her nerves.
"Yes, something very wrong," said Mr. Fleet-
wood; "and it will require the wisest care on our
part to restore the harmonious action of her life, so
suddenly and so strangely disturbed."
For nearly two hours Madeline lay in a deep
sleep; and during all that time Mrs. Dainty sat by
the bedside. When she awoke at last, her mind
was in a tranquil state, like one coming out of a
refreshing slumber. But she exhibited none of her
old lightness of spirit,—was quiet, yet cheerful,
rather than of pensive mood. She did not seem
inclined to join, as of old, her little brother George,
Master "Don't Care," in any of his sports, but
rather shrunk away into unobserved places, sitting
quiet and idle.
18*
i


150 TUE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
CHAPTER XV.
ALARMING OCCURRENCE.
Time made very little change in Madeline's state;
no change, at least, for the better. Twice during
the succeeding fortnight her mother's anger was
excited again9t her, and the strong, passionate will
of the one set itself vigorously to work to subdue
the so-called "wilfulness" of the other. But each
time the storm, like all storms, made itself felt only
in wreck and ruin. Madeline, after the exhaustion
of the wild strife of passion was over, showed a
moody, absent exterior, and an increased tendency
to be alone.
"What can ail the child?" Mrs. Dainty would
say, in her uneasiness and perplexity, now appealing
to her husband, and now to Uncle John. But from
neither could any solution of the mystery of her
strange state be derived. The family physician was
called in and consulted, though with little satisfac-
tion. "There must be a change for Madeline," he
said. "Her mind must be diverted. She is in a
morbid state;" with much more to the same pur-


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
151
pose. Yet nothing was gained. The mental dis-
ease abated not, but commenced assuming new
forms. Morbid desire began taking the place of
morbid indifference; and, if this inordinate craving
were not indulged, fits of nervous prostration fol-
lowed the excitement of contention, resembling the
stupor of opium.
It now became a matter of serious consideration
in the family as to how Madeline was to be treated
by the other members. Suddenly her will had
grown exacting. The mild-tempered, gentle, loving
little girl had become imperious, selfish, and de-
manding. If she desired a thing, or wished for an
indulgence, no amount of opposition subdued her.
Denial, argument, punishment, increased instead of
weakening her purpose, and the certain result was
a nervous spasm, or deep stupor, lasting at times
for hours. So long as she had her own way, the
current of her life glided along smoothly; but
any obstruction swelled it into a turbulent flood,
the dark depths of which were hidden from all
eyes.
The doctor strongly recommended change of
place, new associations. "Send her out in the car-
riage every day, or take her to the public squares
for a ramble among the children," he would urge,
when he saw her moving in her quiet way about the


152
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
house, and marked the singular expression of her
countenance, that had in it something almost
weird.
One day Agnes, the elder sister, accompanied by
George, had taken Madeline to the City Square,
through which they wandered for some time. Grow-
ing tired, the girls sat down to observe a party of
little children who were jumping the rope, while
George, boy-like, took a wide range over the
grounds. Suddenly the attention of Agnes was
called to Madeline by an exclamation, and, looking
around and into her face, she saw that her eyes were
fixed on some object with a look of fear. Follow-
ing their direction, she saw at a short distance the
repulsive form of Mra. Jeckyl, who was standing
perfectly still, gazing at them. Her first instinctive
movement was to shade the eyes of Madeline with
her hand and thus hide from her the form which
had disturbed her with its presence. As she did so,
Madeline shut her eyes and leaned her head back
against her sister.
As soon as Mrs. Jeckyl saw that she was observed,
she came forward, offering her hand to Agnes in a
familiar, way, and inquiring with an affectation of
interest about the family.
"Ah," she continued, "and here is my little pet,
Maddy!" placing her hand, as she spoke, on the


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
153
head of Madeline, whose slight form quivered and
shrunk at the touch.
"How are you, dear?" she asked, in tones meant
to be winning.
But Madeline kept her face buried in her sister's
garments.
"That little rebel brother tried to frighten my
pet," she added, her hand still playing with the
child's curls,—" the naughty boy! But Maddy was
my jewel! Little darling! Come! Look up, and
let me see, if only for a moment, that pair of bright
eyes."
Agnes felt the head of Madeline slowly turning,
as if she wished to get a stealthy glance at the
woman's face.
"Ah! Peep-bo! Peep!" said Mrs. Jeckyl, play-
fully. "I thought the light would come."
Madeline had taken a single look, and then hid-
den her face again.
"How have you been, darling?" Mrs. Jeckyl
bent her head close down to the face of Made-
line.
The child made no answer.
Still the woman's hand was on her head, and
restlessly moving among the sunny curls. Twice
had Agnes pushed it away with a firm effort; but it
returned again persistently. She had a strange, be-


154
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
wildered feeling, and an impulse to catch Madeline
in her arms and flee away, as from impending
danger.
"Ah! Peep-bo!" Madeline had stolen another
look, and the woman, watchful as a serpent, had
caught the glance; and now her eye held that of
the child, who did not again turn her face away, but
continued to gaze upon that of Mrs. Jeckyl.
"You are a little darling!" said Mrs. Jeckyl,
now bending close to Madeline, and smiling upon
her in her most winning manner. "The sweetest
pet in all the world! Here, sit on my lap." And
she made an attempt to lift Madeline from the arm
of her sister; but Agnes resisted, saying, coldly,—
"If you please, madam, let her remain where
she is."
But the woman was bent on having her own way.
Not seeming even to hear the words of Agnes, she
applied her strength, and drew the child upon her
lap. A deep fluttering sigh came up from the
heart of Madeline, and light spasms quivered over
her face. There was a brief, feeble resistance; then
strength and will were subdued, and, passive as a
babe, she shrunk against the woman, laying her
head down upon her bosom.
Roused by fear and indignation, Agnes started
to her feet, and, grasping her sister by the arms,


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON. 155
said, as she exerted her strength in the effort to
remove her,—
"Let her go, Mrs. Jeckyl!"
"Don't fret yourself, my dear," said the woman,
fixing her glittering eyes into those of Agnes, with
a look meant to subdue her also. But the effort to
hold her passive by the strength of a powerful will
failed wholly.
"Release my sister!" she added, sternly.
But Mrs. Jeckyl drew her arm the more tightly
around Madeline, and with her steady eye sought to
throw a spell over Agnes.
Grown desperate with fear, Agnes now exerted
all her strength, and with a single violent jerk suc-
ceeded in wresting the half-insensible form of her
sister, from the arms of Mrs. Jeckyl.
"You're a polite young lady!" said Mrs. Jeckyl,
in a sneering manner. "This is American good-
breeding, I suppose!"
"And you're a wicked woman," replied Agnes,
indignantly confronting the enemy.
"Snakes! Snakes!" It was the ringing, exultant
voice of little "don't-care" George, who had circled
the square in a trot, and just returned to the place
where he had left his sisters.
Mrs. Jeckyl turned with a start upon this unwel-
come intruder.


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON. 157
was acting on the principle that discretion was the
better part of valor, and making a hasty retreat
from the battle-field.
"You're a very rude little boy," said a grave old
gentleman.
"And she's a very wicked woman," answered little
Don't Care, looking boldly up into the speaker's
face.
""Wby did you call her Snakes?" inquired the
man: "there's no sense in that."
"If you'd looked into her eyes, you'd have seen
them," replied George, half carelessly; and then,
grasping the outstretched hand of his sister Agnes,
he withdrew from the little crowd, and passed with
quick steps homeward.
14


158
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
CHAPTER XVI.
DISAPPEARANCE OF MADELINE.
The danger which threatened Madeline had sud-
denly taken on a new and more alarming aspect.
With the removal of Mrs. Jeckyl from the house of
Mr. Dainty, it was believed that all direct influence
had ceased, and that whatever of evil she had
wrought upon the child would gradually lose its
power over her as time progressed. But the enemy
had not left the field; there was only a change of
position.
The detail by Agnes, in an excited manner, of
what had occurred in the City Square, sent through
all hearts a thrill of fear. In the family council,
Mr. Dainty talked indignantly of the police and
arrest, while Mr. Fleetwood, for the most part
silent, walked the floor with uneasy footsteps.
"I shall not dare to let Madeline pass our own
threshold," said Mrs. Dainty, in a troubled voice,
"though she is dying for change of air and change
of scene. Oh, isn't it dreadful!"
"The woman must be arrested" Mr. Dainty an-


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON. 159
nounced, for the tenth time,—the only remedy he
had to suggest.
"What good?" inquired Uncle John.
"We will have her bound over to keep the peace,"
said Mr. Dainty.
Uncle John shook his head as he answered,
"You cannot bind the influence of her evil eye. It
may fall upon our precious one at any moment least
expected, and in spite of all law or police. The
danger comes from a new direction, and is too
subtle in its nature to be restrained by common
bonds."
"What then are we to do?" asked Mrs. Dainty,
wringing her hands in a distressed manner.
But no one ventured a reply to her question.
After a long and troubled session, the family v
council broke up, without having arrived at any
satisfactory result beyond the common conclusion
that it would not be safe to let Madeline, in her
present state, go out, and thus be in danger of meet-
ing the strange woman who had thrown so fearful a
spell over her young spirit.
Singularly enough, the child, from this time,
showed a restless desire to get away from the house.
Instead of creeping into lonely rooms by herself,
she would seek the front windows and door, and
stand gazing into the street, her eyes wandering up


160
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
and down among the passengers, as if in search of
some one. When taken from the door or windows,
she would resist, and sometimes fall into passionate
fits, that left her in a strange stupor. Three times
within a week she attempted to steal away; and
once she succeeded in getting off", but was met by
her father, who happened to be returning home,
when only a few blocks distant. To his inquiries
as to where she was going, she replied, "To the
Square." After a slight opposition, she concluded
to go back with him, but was moody and ill-natured
for the rest of the day.
So it continued for weeks, with but little change
for the better. Mrs. Dainty's fears were all the
while excited, and she never felt comfortable a
moment when Madeline was away from her.
One day, in taking her usual after-dinner sleep,
Mrs. Dainty was visited by a frightful dream about
Madeline, so vivid in its character as to awaken her.
Her first impulse, the moment bewildered thoughts
ran clear, was to seek for her child. "Madeline!"
she called, going to her chamber-door. For a mo-
ment or two she stood listening, then called, in a
louder voice, "Madeline! Madeline!"
"Madeline!" It was the voice of the oldest
daughter, calling from the library.
"Agnes, where is Madeline?"


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
161
"I do not know," replied Agnes, coming toward
her mother. "I heard her and George up in the
nursery not long ago. Perhaps she is there.
George!"
A pair of rapid feet responded noisily to the
call.
"George, where is your sister?"
"Don't know," answered the boy.
"Isn't she in the nursery 1"
"No, ma'am."
"I heard you and her talking there not long
ago," said Agnes.
"She went down-stairs for a piece of cake a good
while ago."
Agnes almost flew down to the kitchen, and in-
quired of the chambermaid, whom she found there,
if she had seen Madeline.
"I heard her come down-stairs a little while ago,
and I think she went into the parlor," replied the
chambermaid.
One of the parlor-shutters was found pushed open,
the curtain drawn aside, and a chair out of posi-
tion.
"She has been here," said Mrs. Dainty, in a
choking whisper.
Perhaps she has fallen asleep somewhere," sug-
gested a domestic.
h 14*


162
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
"Search through the house, everywhere!" replied
Mrs. Dainty. "Look into all the rooms and closets!
How could you lose sight of her?"
But they searched in vain. The child was not in
the house!
"Where is Uncle John?" asked Mrs. Dainty, in
her terror and bewilderment.
Mr. Fleetwood entered from the street at the
moment his name was mentioned, and in no way
lessened the anxious fears of his niece by his
troubled exclamations ou learning that Madeline
was nowhere to be found in the house.
"I have trembled every day in fear of this!" said
the old man, pacing the floor in great agitation.
"How could you leave her unguarded?"
Not long, however, did Mr. Fleetwood remain
inactive. After sending word to Mr. Dainty, and
despatching servants in various directions to search
through all the neighborhood, he went out himself,
and commenced a series of close inquiries at all the
stores and offices within several squares.
"Had she curly hair?" inquired a boy who was
buying something at one of the stores visited by
Mr. Fleetwood.
"Yes," answered the old gentleman, with a sud-
den eagerness of manner.
"And wore a blue frock?"


164
TUB ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
with others who confirmed the boy's statement that
a child, resembling Madeline, had been seen in
company with an old woman dressed in black.
This caused him to visit the Chief of Police and
secure his efficient aid in the matter, thus putting in
operation the most vigilant means of discovery.
It was nearly an hour after Mr. Fleetwood left
the house, when, disappointed in any good result,
he returned to the anxious, frightened family, to
meet pale, tearful faces and trembling inquiry. Mr.
Dainty and the servants had also been in search of
the lost one, but their search had proved quite as
fruitless. The boy who had hoped to gain the
reward of ten dollars had likewise reported himself.
He had spent an hour in vain.
Night came down upon the fearfully-disturbed
inmates of Mr. Dainty's family, and yet Madeline
was absent. Nothing whatever could be learned in
regard to her, exrcept the single fact mentioned by
the boy, and confirmed by others, that a little girl
resembling her had been seen in company with an
old woman dressed in black.


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
165
CHAPTER XVIL
THE SEAKCH.
"It is nearly a week since Mr. Fleetwood was
here," said Mrs. Elder, as she placed her work-
basket on the table and drew up a chair.
Florence, who had just brought in a lighted lamp,
sighed, but made no answer to the remark.
"He seemed more than disappointed, I thought,
at your persistent refusal to make any advances
toward a reconciliation with Mrs. Dainty," added
Mrs. Elder.
• "Yes: he was offended." There was a touch of
sadness in the low voice of Florence Harper.
"No, not offended, dear," said Mrs. Elder, quickly.
"That is too strong a word. He was disturbed."
"He asks of me too much, Aunt Mary." Florence
spoke with some warmth. "I am but human."
"Perhaps he does. But the condition of things
at Mrs. Dainty's must be his excuse. See into what
a state of mind Madeline has fallen."
"Poor child! I cannot sleep, sometimes, for
thinking of her," said Florence.


166
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
"I can hardly wonder at Mr. Fleetwood, seeing
that his heart is wrapped up in those children. He
has seen how much power for good you can have
over them, and, now that an evil hand is at work,
seeking to mar the sweet beauty of Madeline's
spirit, can you feel surprise at his eagerness to bring
her again within the sphere of your influence? I
cannot, Florence."
"Then you think I ought to go?"
Aunt Mary was silent.
"Mrs. Dainty has not desired my return."
"She has not communicated such a desire; but
Mr. Fleetwood has over and over again said that
only weak pride keeps her from doing so. Shall
not something be conceded for the children's
sake?"
"If you think I ought to call and see Mrs. Dainty,
as Mr. Fleetwood proposes, I will go to-morrow,"
said Florence.
Aunt Mary was silent.
"You will not advise me?" Florence spoke in
a perplexed voice.
"If you act from my advice, you will not act
freely," said Mrs. Elder. "The question, moreover,
is one of such difficult solution, that I do not see it
clearly enough to speak with decision."
The bell at this moment rung violently, causing


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON. 167
both Florence and her aunt to start and look with
inquiring eyes into each other's faces. A few
moments afterward a man's feet were heard moving
quickly along the passage.
"Mr. Fleetwood!" ejaculated Mrs. Elder, rising
as the old gentleman entered hurriedly.
"Florence," said Mr. Fleetwood, in an agitated
manner, as he laid his hand upon the arm of Miss
Harper, "you are wanted!"
"For what? Has any thing happened to the chil-
dren?"
"Yes,—something dreadful! Madeline is lost or
stolen!"
"Oh, Mr. Fleetwood! Lost! Stolen! What do
you mean?"
"Madeline has been gone from the house for
several hours, and we have searched for her every-
where in vain. Two or three persons in the neigh-
borhood are positive that they saw her, or a child
answering in all things her description, in company
with a woman dressed in black. That infamous
Mrs. Jeckyl, without doubt!"
"Dreadful! Dreadful!" exclaimed Florence, clasp-
ing her hands and turning very pale.
"Ah, Florence! Florence!" said Mr. Fleetwood,
"if you had only thrown the wings of your love
around her, this would not have been!'"


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
169
"glad for the sake of Agnes. Oh, we are in dread-
ful trouble! Poor Madeline! Uncle John has told
you all. Oh, my child! my child! Where can she
be? It will kill me!"
And Mrs. Dainty fell into a fit of hysterical
sobbing.
"Have you no further intelligence of Madeline?"
Mr. Fleetwood inquired of Mr. Dainty.
"None. I have just returned from the Police-
office. Not a word of the child, although reports
have come in from all parts of the city."
"Where did Mrs. Jeckyl live at the time she
came here?" asked Florence. None could answer
the question.
"Is there no one of whom she could be inquired
about?"
"Mrs. Ashton, I think, knows something in re-
gard to her," said Mr. Fleetwood.
"Has any one been to see her?" inquired
Florence.
"No one. We should have thought of that be-
fore," said Mr. Dainty. "Who knows her re-
sidence?"
Mrs. Dainty gave the required information, and
a servant was despatched immediately with a note
to Mrs. Ashton. That lady could not say where
Mrs. Jeckyl lived, but thought she was at a certain
15


170
THE ANGEL AND THK DEMON.
boarding-house in Twelfth Street. Thither Mr.
Dainty went without delay.
"Does a Mrs. Jeckyl board here?" he inquired
of the waiter who came to the door.
"No, sir," was answered, in a tone plainly enough
conveying the information that the woman about
whom he made inquiry was known to the ser-
vant.
"When did she leave?" he asked.
"A month ago."
"Where can I find her?"
"Don't know."
"Where did she go when she left your house?"
"Don't know, sir."
The waiter's manner showed some impatience, as
if the very name of the woman were an offence to
him.
"I wish to see Mrs. Brainard. Is she at home?"
"Yes, sir. Walk into the parlor, and I will call
her down."
Mr. Dainty went into the parlor, and in a few
moments the woman who kept the boarding-house
entered.
"You had a Mrs. Jeckyl here a few weeks ago?"
said Mr. Dainty.
"I had."
"Do you know where she is now?"


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
171
"iTo, sir." Mrs. Brainard's voice had in it some-
thing of impatience and something of disgust.
"When did she leave your house?"
"Nearly four weeks ago."
"Where did she go?"
"I really cannot answer the question, sir. I was
so glad to get her out of my house that I let all in-
terest in her die the moment she was beyond my
door."
"Do not any of your servants know where she
went?"
"It is possible, sir. I will inquire of the chamber-
maid."
"If you please; for I must find her, alive or
dead!"
"Is there any thing wrong about her?" asked
Airs. Brainard, curiously.
"I am afraid she has stolen my child!" said Mr.
Dainty, his manner growing excited.
"Stolen your child!" Mrs. Brainard became pale
and agitated, and her eyes turned toward a little
girl, not seven years old, who at the moment entered
the room. She reached out her hand, and the child
drew to her side. The moment Mrs. Brainard's
arm could be thrown around the little one, she
clasped her eagerly, as if she felt that she had just
escaped impending danger.


172 THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
"If you can aid me in tracing her," said Mr.
Dainty, "you will confer the highest benefit."
Mrs. Brainard left the room, and returned in a
little while with the chambermaid, who thought
Mrs. Jeckyl went to a house in Fifth Street near
Noble. The name of the person who kept the
house she did not remember. This was all the
chambermaid could tell. The waiter was ques-
tioned, but from him nothing was elicited.
"How did this woman conduct herself while in
your house ?" asked Mr. Dainty.
"She made herself very offensive to most of my
boarders, and gained a singular influence over two
of them,—ladies, who were invalids and had been
suffering for years with nervous complaints. She
is a woman of masculine intellect, sir. Few men
are her equal in an argument. Her satire is
withering."
"So I should infer from the little I saw of her.
You speak of her influence over two ladies in your
family. How was this obtained?"
"In what I regard as a very disorderly way. Mrs.
Jeckyl is a 'medium,' as it is called."
"A mesmerist," said Mr. Dainty.
"Or spiritualist, as some say. The thing has
various names."
"The power, if any power is possessed by these


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
173
people," said Mr. Dainty, with strong evidence of
feeling, "is demoniac."
"Just what I have said from the beginning," re-
plied Mrs. Braihard. "I have seen much evil, but
no good, result from these disorderly practices. Had
I known Mrs. Jeckyl to be a 'medium,' she would
not have found entrance into my house. I have
closed my doors against more than one of them."
"Then Mrs. Jeckyl mesmerized the ladies to
whom you refer?"
"She had table-tippings, rappings, writings, and
all sorts of diablerie going on in their rooms for
nearly a week, turning the heads of my boarders,
when I closed down upon her with a strong hand,
adding a notice to vacate her apartment. She de-
murred, and was insolent. But I have a will of my
own, sir, and was not to be thwarted. If she had
not left at the time specified in my notice, I would
have had her trunk set out on the pavement."
"I cannot but applaud your spirit," said Mr.
Dainty. "Desperate diseases require desperate re-
medies. But time passes, and I must not linger.
What you say of the woman only adds to my
anxiety and fear. I must find her, and rescue my
child, ere sleep closes an eyelid."
"Heaven give you success!" said Mrs. Brainard.
Taking a carriage, Mr. Dainty was driven rapidly
10*


THE ANGEL AND THE DEiMON.
175
"I don't know how that may be. A tall, sinister-
looking Englishwoman, with an eye that held a
lurking serpent, took boarding here some weeks
ago. But she only remained three or four days.
She was disagreeable to us, and we made ourselves
disagreeable to her; and so we parted."
"Where did she go?" Mr. Dainty asked, eagerly.
The lady shook her head.
"No one in this house knows. She went as she
came,—a marvel and a mystery."
"And beyond this you can give no information
in regard to her?"
"None whatever."
Mr. Dainty stood for some moments silent and
perplexed. Then, with a sickening sense of disap-
pointment, he retired, and, entering the carriage
which awaited him at the door, ordered the driver
to take him to his own house as rapidly as possible.
He brought with him neither light nor comfort, and
found none awaiting his arrival. Not a single gleam
of intelligence touching the absent one had shone
in upon his afflicted family.
What more could be done? The evening had
waned, and it was now past the hour of nine. To
abandon all search for the night seemed cruel; yet,
without, a single clue to unravel the mystery of the
child's absence, what step could be taken toward


176
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
accomplishing her recovery? Whither were they
to go in search of her?
The wretched mother, from a state of almost
frantic excitement, had fallen into a condition little
removed from stupor. The family physician was
called in to see her, but he prescribed nothing.
Her trouble was beyond the reach of any medicines
he could give.
Anxious and sleepless was that night in the house
of Mr. Dainty. Early in the morning the search for
Madeline was renewed. Not the least active in this
search was Miss Harper. With a perseverance and
assiduity unknown to the sterner sex, she steadily
sought to find the clue that was to unravel the
mystery of Madeline's absence. Starting where
Mr. Dainty had begun, at Mrs. Brainard's, she went
from thence to the house in Fifth Street where a
woman answering to the description of Mrs. Jeckyl
had made a brief sojourn. Beyond this point Mr.
Dainty had failed to go; but Florence was not to be
thrown off so easily. Her woman's tact and feeling
all came in to quicken the interest of every member
in the family, and the result was a declaration on
the part of a servant, who was questioned re-
peatedly, that she thought she could recognise the
hack-driver who took the woman, with her trunk,
away.


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
177
In company with this servant, an Irish girl, Flo-
rence visited the various hack-stands in the city;
but at none of them did the girl recognise any
driver as the one for whom they were in search,
and they were going back, the heart of Florence
heavy with disappointment, when her companion
exclaimed,—
"'Deed, and that's the very mon himself, so
it is!"
And she pointed to a hackman who was leisurely
driving his carriage along, just in advance of them.
To spring forward was but a natural impulse, and
in a moment the driver reined up his horses at the
sign given by Florence. Leaving his box, he stepped
to the pavement, saying, as he did so,—
"Want a carriage, miss?"
"I wish to ask you a question or two first," re-
plied Florence, slightly confused at the abruptness
with which she was confronted by the man.
"As many as you please, miss," returned the hack-
driver.
"How long is it since that woman left your
house?" asked Florence, turning to the girl.
"About two weeks," was answered.
"In the morning or afternoon?"
"In the morning."
"And this is the man who drove her away?"
M


178 THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
"I think so. He looks like him, ony way."
"About two weeks ago," said Florence, now
addressing the hack-driver, "a tall woman, dressed
in black, was taken, with her trunk, from a house in
Fifth Street near Noble. Do you remember any
thing about it? Were you the driver?"
"I was," replied the man.
The whole frame of Miss Harper quivered in-
stantly with an eager impulse.
"Can you take me to the house where you left
her?" she asked.
The man stood in thought for some moments, and
then answered,—
"I think so."
"Will you accompany me?" Florence spoke to
the girl.
"Certainly, miss : I'm at your service."
"Drive me there as quickly as possible." And
Florence stepped toward the door of the carriage,
which was instantly thrown open by the hackman.
Entering, with the girl, she seated herself, and was
soon driven rapidly away toward the northern part
of the city, and through streets with the aspect of
which she was unfamiliar. At last the carriage
stopped before a house of not over-inviting exterior.
It was old, dingy-looking, and had a deserted aspect,
all the shutters being closed to the third story.


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
179
"This is the place, miss," said the driver, as he
opened the carriage-door.
"Are you certain?" inquired Florence, a slight
tremor running along her nerves as she looked up
at the house.
"Dead sure," replied the hackman, in a confident
voice. "I know the house by its shut-up look.
I've passed here many a time, and have never seen
a window open yet, or the sign of a human about
the house."
"Come," said Florence to the Irish girl, and the
two stepped from the carriage, and, crossing the
pavement, ascended the steps. The bell was rung,
and, after waiting for a few moments, the door
opened, and a slightly-formed girl, about fifteen
years of age, with a singularly interesting face, in-
quired their errand.
"Does a Mrs. Jeckyl live here?" asked Flo-
rence.
"No, ma'am," replied the girl.
"Mrs. Hawks?" said the companion of Florence.
The girl shook her head.
"We were told," said Florence, "that a woman
bearing one of these names came to your house
about two weeks ago. She was a tall English-
woman, dressed in black."
"Won't you come in and see my mother?" And


180
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
the girl moved back a pace or two from the
door.
According to the invitation, Florence stepped
over the threshold and entered the house, following
the girl, who conducted her into the back-parlor,
which was feebly lighted by the rays that came in
through a small opening in the shutters.
"Sit down," said the girl, "and I will call my
mother." And she passed, with a gliding motion,
noiselessly from the apartment.
The eyes of Florence soon accommodated them-
selves to the feeble light, and, gazing around the
room, she noted its contents with curious interest.
The furniture was meagre and plain, the carpets
worn, and the window-curtains faded. A few arti-
cles, which seemed the relics of a better condition,
indicated the possession of taste. While yet engaged
in making these observations, Florence, whose eyes
had been peering into the adjoining parlor, the
shutters of which were closed tightly, turned her
head and met the steady, penetrating gaze of a
woman who had entered so silently that no sound
of footfall had disturbed the air.
This woman was in height a little above the me-
dium stature; of slender proportions; with an un-
usually high and broad- forehead; faded, almost
sallow, complexion; eyes black as coals, yet bright


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
181
as fire; lips arching, thin, and flexible; and a deli-
cate, receding chin. Florence arose, and stood
before the woman in momentary confusion, her
eyes drooping beneath her singularly penetrating
gaze.
"Pardon this intrusion," said Florence, with
considerable hesitation of manner. "I am in
search of a person who, as I am informed, came
to your house some time within the past two
weeks."
The woman requested Florence to resume her
seat, and then, drawing a chair in front of her,
said, in a low, musical, yet not altogether pleasant
voice,—
"What is the name of the person you are seek-
ing?"
"Mrs. Jeckyl," replied Florence.
The woman shook her head.
"She has gone by the name of Hawks, I be-
lieve," said Florence.
Another shake of the head, accompanied by the
remark,—
"I do not know any one bearing either name."
"She is an Englishwoman, tall of stature."
"Ah!" The response was in a quick voice, in
which was a shade of surprise.
"She dressed in black," said Florence.
16


182 THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
"Did you say her name was Jeckyl?" asked the
woman.
"Yes. But I believe she has also gone by the
name of Hawks."
"Was she young, or old?"
"Past the middle point of life."
"A woman answering your description was here
about two weeks ago, and remained several days.
But her name was Fordham."
"Another alias, no doubt," said Florence, in a
quickened voice. "And now, madam, if you will
tell me where I can find her, you will confer an
obligation beyond all price."
"Is she a relation?" inquired the woman, look-
ing steadily into the excited face of her young
visitor.
"No!" answered Florence, with an expression of
disgust.
"Why do you seek her?" The manner and tone
of the woman threw a chill over the feelings of
Miss Harper.
"The person I seek has, it is feared, enticed away,
or stolen, a little girl, whose mother is almost beside
herself in consequence."
"A grave charge to bring against any one," said
the woman, seriously. "I hardly think it can apply
to Mrs. Fordham."


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON. 183
"You know something of her antecedents, then?"
Florence spoke inquiringly.
"Nothing," answered the woman, almost coldly.
"Where can I find her now?"
"I have neither seen nor heard of her since she
left my house," said the woman.
The look of distress that settled on the counte-
nance of Miss Harper seemed to awaken a motion
of sympathy in the woman's heart.
"Whose child is missing?" she inquired, in a soft
voice.
"The child of Mrs. Edward Dainty, number 400
Street; a little girl, eleven years old. She has
been absent since yesterday. The woman suspected
of the crime of enticing her away was employed, a
short time ago, as governess, but dismissed almost
immediately, in consequence of certain defects that
entirely destroyed her right influence over the chil-
dren."
"What were those defects ?" inquired the woman,
evincing a new interest in the matter.
"She attempted, it was thought, to magnetize the
children."
"Ah!" The woman seemed more interested, and
leaned toward Florence, fixing upon her, as she did
so, her dark, bright, weird-looking eyes. There
was a brief pause.


184 THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
"Well, what of it?" inquired the woman, seeing
that Florence remained silent.
"The consequences were serious, so far as the
little girl I refer to was concerned," said Florence.
"She was changed almost from the hour Mrs.
Jeckyl drew her within the sphere of her influence."
"Delicately organized, and easily impressed, no
doubt." The woman spoke half to herself.
"She is a sweet, lovely child," said Florence,
"and it is terrible to think of her pure, almost
infantine spirit coming within the sphere of such a
woman. Death, in my regard, would be a blessing
instead."
"You speak warmly on the subject," said the
woman.
"I have cause to do so, for I feel warmly," said
Florence.
"You have met Mrs. Jeckyl, as you call her?"
"No. Happily, I never crossed her path. My
foot has not touched the slime of her serpent-
trail!"
The woman's face darkened, as if a shadow had
fallen upon it.
"If the person you call Jeckyl, and the one who
passed a few days in my house, are the same," she
said, "your language is far too strong. Though she
is to me, partially, a stranger, yet I have had testi-


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
185
mony in regard to her of the highest and most
authoritative character. I know her quality as well
as if I had seen her heart laid open and read it liko
the pages of a book. She belongs to an exceptional
class in the present time. To ordinary people she
is unintelligible. The high purposes of her life are
not appreciated by them. She cannot be weighed
in their balance."
The woman spoke rapidly, and with enthusiasm,
quick changes running over her face, and her eyes
brightening and darkening by turns like a stormy
sky. A low shudder of fear crept into the heart
of Florence as she looked at this woman; and the
Irish girl who accompanied her, and who had until
now remained standing, moved backward toward
the door of .the room, gaining which, as a point of
advantage, she said,—
"'Deed, and, miss, I think as how we'd as well bo
going from here."
"Stay a moment." And Florence reached forth
a hand toward the girl.
"I shouldn't wonder if I was riding on a broom-
stick next!" muttered the latter, as she receded into
the passage.
"Don't go, if you please. I will be with you
directly." There was a tremor of anxiety in the
tones of Florence.
1G»


186
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
"I will not call in question a word you have
said," remarked Florence, speaking in a depreca-
tory tone, as she turned to the woman. "All I
ask now is that you give me some clue by which I
can trace this person from the time, she left your
house. That is my errand here; and I beg, in the
name of humanity, that you will satisfy it to the
extent of your ability."
"I asked her no questions when she left," replied
the woman. "She came with a message from an
absent one in the upper spheres,—a message that
filled my heart with reverent gladness. As an
honored guest, she remained for a few days an
inmate of my house, and then went as she came.
The spirits led her here, and the spirits withdrew her
in their own good time. She is gifted in a high
degree; and they have chosen her as one of their
most favored messengers to darkly-wandering mor-
tals. I bless the day she came to this house. Ah!
now I see the white garments, and now the angel-
face, of that blessed daughter who ten years ago left
my heart desolate."
The woman's eyes were elevated, and she seemed
in an ecstatic vision.
"She removed the veil from my dull eyes,—that
honored messenger!" she continued, "and, by a
pure vision, I now see beyond the dark boundary


THEnANGEL and tiie demon. 187
which conceals the beautiful world where the
blessed ones dwell. She likewise unstopped my
ears, so that they can hear spirit-voices. I hearken
to them all day long."
"I call nothing of this in question," said Flo-
rence, rising, and moving toward the door; "but
other matters of interest press on me too impera-
tively for delay. Once again, let me implore you
to give me some light. Think again! Is there no
one likely to be informed of her present home, to
whom you could refer me? Let your mother's
heart counsel for me in this matter!"
"I trust the spirits in all things. For wise ends
they have hidden from me all that pertains to their
favored messenger. She came in mystery, and de-
parted as she came. In the spirit I meet her almost
daily. In the body I know her not." i
The Irish girl had already retreated beyond the
outer door, and stood upon the marble steps.
Hopeless of gaining any information here touching
the object of her search, Florence, over whose spirit
had fallen a strange, suffocating fear, as if her very
life were waning, turned from the woman, and al-
most rushed, panic-stricken, from the house.
"'Dade, and it's the divil's den!" ejaculated the
Irish girl, bluntly, as they crowded into the car-
riage. "I wouldn't go into that house again for a


188
THE ANGKL AND THE DEMON.
mint o' money. I expected every instant to see
you spirited off!"
Florence did not answer the girl, but ordered the
driver to leave her at the house in Fifth Street and
then to take her to the residence of Mr. Dainty.
She brought neither light, hope, nor comfort to
those who had anxiously awaited her return, and
found none for her own troubled heart.


190 THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
possession just now," replied Adele, in a low, clear
tone, the slight quiver in which showed a disturbed
state of feeling.
"You are perverse," said the woman. "The
spirits must be consulted. There are evil influences
at work."
"They are at work in that Mrs. Fordham, if, as
this young lady says, she has stolen a child !" Adele
made answer, speaking firmly. "I never liked her.
She's wicked!"
"Adele!"
"I believe it, mother." The girl was resolute.
"She tried to get me in her power; but I was able
to resist her, thank God!"
"Daughter! daughter! "WTiat is the meaning of
this?" exclaimed the woman, in surprise and dis-
pleasure, rising as she spoke, and advancing toward
Adele, with the evident belief that if she could get
her hands upon her she could more effectually
bring the full power of her strong will to bear in
subduing her rebellious spirit. But Adele retreated
into the next room, saying, in a quick, decided
voice,—
"I'm getting heart-sick of all this, mother!
There is in it more of evil than good, I sadly fear.
I don't like the people who come here. Some of
them may mean all right; but some of them, I


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
191
know, mean all wrong; and your Mrs. Fordham is
one of them. And so is Mr. Dyer. I hate the
very sight of him! He said something to me last
night."
"What did he say?" eagerly asked the mother.
"I can't tell you now, because I promised him
that I would not . But if he says it again I'll dash
the first thing into his face that I can lay my
hands on."
Just then the door-bell rang, and Adele answered
the summons. The very man about whom they
were speaking entered. The moment Adele saw
him she started back, and, running along the pass-
age, escaped from his presence up-stairs.
"Mr. Dyer!" said the mother, with a pleased
familiarity of manner, singular under the circum-
stances, to say the least of it. She gave him her
hand, which he grasped hard, and retained while
they walked back into the darkened parlors.
"Mrs. Weir!" was his simple response. His
tone was low, penetrating, agreeable. Let us de-
scribe Mr. Dyer. It is the countenance that indi-
cates the man. Chin, mouth, nostrils, eyes, fore-
head,—on these each one writes his character,
though he tries never so hard to play the hypocrite.
The lineaments of the face never lie. But in the
present instance the face was so much hidden by a


192
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
hairy veil that much of its true expression was con-
cealed. Intellectually, taking his rather low fore-
head as a guide, Mr. Dyer was not a man of supe-
rior endowments. But his small brown eyes,
shining out from their hollow recesses, indicated
mental activity and alertness. The skin of his face
was colorless, and had a bleached appearance, all
the lines running down, as if it had been rained
upon every day for a dozen years. High up, reach-
ing nearly to the cheek-bones, the hairy in vesture
began, and that seemed to have yielded also to the
causes which made all the facial lines perpen-
dicular. It was guiltless of curl, or curving line
of beauty, but shot down, straight and thick, a dark
brown mass, wiry and unsightly. The hair upon
his head was long, dry, harsh, and straight, lying
like the mane of some beast upon his shoulders.
His full, pouting lips indicated sensuality. Yet
even this countenance had been schooled by a
sinister purpose so as to deceive some by }ts meek
expression of goodness.
Mr. Dyer was that intellectual, strong-willed
woman's plaything, a biologist,—we use one of the
names assumed by a modern sect of pseudo-spirit-
ualists,—a getter-up of circles, and a leader in the
insane orgies of mesmerism run mad. He was
wonderfully given to trance-ecstasies, and could ele-


194
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
dium," and could subdue by means of his stronger
will the consciousness of sickly, nervous women,
and so control the wonderful organism of their
spirits as to make them speak and act like mere
automatons. It was a vast improvement on Maelzel
and Kempelon!
At the time of his introduction to the reader,
Dyer had already been the instrument of promoting
four separations between husband and wife. He was
himself a married man; but, having discovered that
another, a handsomer, brighter, and more attractive
woman than his lawful partner, was conjoined to
him as to the spirit, and therefore, according to his
reading of the matter, his real wife, he had separated
himself from the heart-broken woman against whom
he had committed one of the most grievous sins in
the crowded calendar of human wrongs. In the
eye of the law he was a vagrant, for he had no
apparent means of support. But he managed to
get his share of worldly gear from his duped or
corrupt admirers. It was sufficient for some of
them that the familiar spirits, or demons, required
their favorite instrument to be clothed and fed and
supplied with needful money.
Such was the man whose appearance gave evident
pleasure to Mrs. Weir, notwithstanding the intima-
tion of her daughter, just made, that his evil eyes


TIIE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
195
had fallen upon her, and that already his polluting
breath had touched her fair young cheek.
As the two entered the parlors, Dyer still holding
the woman's hand, he gazed into her eyes with a
fixed look, beneath which her own did not quail.
"And what have the spirits been saying to you
this morning?" He spoke in a low voice, modulated
to musical cadences, and bent his face close to hers.
"I can see, by the lucid depth and strange ethereal
brightness of your eyes, that you have been holding
sweet communion with them."
They sat down upon a sofa, and Mrs. Weir re-
plied,—
"New spheres are opening to me. I am anxious
to rise higher, higher, into more celestial states; but
the spirits are ever teaching me lessons of patience.
I am too worldly yet, they say. The dross of this
outer sphere is dimming my fine gold; the stain of
earth is on my garments. Their low whispers are
lingering yet in my ears, and my soul feels the hush
of a deep tranquillity."
"Beautiful! Celestial!" And Mr.Dyer raised his
hands in almost saintly benediction.
"Of all this the scoffing world knows nothing,"
went on Mrs. Weir, murmuring in a soft, sweet
voice. "It is too gross and sensual, and, like the
swine, tramples on these precious pearls."


196
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
"And still, like the swine," added Dyer, "turns
upon and rends us who cast them at its feet."
"Alas! too true!" Mrs. Weir spoke almost
sadly.
"But the spirits sustain us. Their communica-
tions are our exceeding great reward," said Dyer,
with enthusiasm. "We are not in the world nor
of it, but enjoy the glorious privileges of the im-
mortals."
He leaned closer.
"To the pure all things are pure"
The door-bell rung, and each gave a start,—a
shade of disappointment clouding the brightness of
their faces.
"Did you expect another visitor at this time?"
asked Dyer.
"No," replied Mrs. Weir, as she listened to the
light steps of Adele on the stairs and moving along
the passage to the door.
Both sat very still, hearkening. A low ejaculation
of surprise escaped the lips of Adele. Then were
heard the rustling of a woman's garments, and the
movement of feet.
Mr. Dyer and Mrs. Weir arose as the parlor-door
was pushed open.
"Mrs. Fordham!" exclaimed the latter, as a tall
woman in black entered with a slow, stately step,


198
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
to a high mission. But how was she to be brought
into the sphere of her holy calling? In common
language, she was not mine. I was not the instru-
ment of her birth, and therefore, in the world's
regard, had no right to dispose of her. Again I
consulted the spirits. The answer was clear. The
bars of custom must be thrown down, they said.
The child was destined to a high use, and human
bonds must not restrain her. For a time the
spirit was willing but the flesh weak. I hesitated,
held back, doubted; but clearer and clearer came
the indications. At last all communication was
withdrawn from me. I asked, but received no
answer; again and again I called to my old and
dear companions, but not even a faint, far-off echo
was returned to my half-despairing cry. Then, and
not till then, I yielded. I sent forth my thought
and affection toward this child—this beloved one
of the spirits—and drew her toward me. Though
distant as to the body, I felt that my hands were
upon her, and that she was approaching. And she
came in good time,—came and threw herself into
my arms,—a young devotee to this new science, a
neophyte priestess for service at the altar in that
grand spiritual temple, the walls of which are
towering upward to heaven."
Mrs. Fordham's eyes gradually assumed an up-


THE ANGKL AND THE DEMON.
199
ward angle: a rapt expression came into her face;
her voice was deep and muffled by feeling.
"Precious darling! Chosen one! Beloved of the
angels!" said Mrs. Weir, bending over the little girl,
who now lay in a trance-sleep against the woman's
bosom.
"Will the spirits communicate through her now?"
asked Dyer.
"Let me inquire of them," answered the woman.
And she relapsed into a state of real or apparent
cessation of all exterior consciousness. Ten minutes
of almost pulseless silence followed, the child still
lying in her strange, unnatural sleep.
"They will speak," said Mrs. Fordham, in a deep
yet hushed tone. Then she laid her hand gently on
the colorless face of the child-medium, and held it
there for the space of several seconds. A few light
passes followed. The child caught her breath: there
were slight convulsive spasms of the chest and
limbs, while a most painful expression saddened her
gentle face.
"Dear child !" murmured Mrs. "Weir.
"It is the strife in her soul of evil spirits against
the good," said Mrs. Fordham. "She is not yet
wholly purified for her great mission. Happily for
her, the battle is fought in states of unconsciousness.
She is spared all suffering."


200
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
"The spirits love and protect her," said Dyer.
"They love and protect their own; and she is
theirs," answered Mrs. Fordbaru.
As she spoke, she raised the child to a sitting
posture. Her eyes were still closed, and the look
of sadness and suffering yet remained. Dyer drew
a chair and sat down directly in front of her. Mrs.
Weir took another and did the same, but arose
immediately, and, looking to the opposite side of the
room, said,—
"Come, Adele; bring a chair and sit down with
us."
But Adele neither answered nor stirred.
"Daughter, did you hear me?" Mrs. Weir's
voice was firmer.
"I do not wish to come into the circle," replied
Adele.
"Don't be foolish, child: come," said Mrs.. Weir.
"No, mother: I wish to be excused."
Mrs. Weir was moving across the room toward
her daughter, when Dyer said,—
"Stop, madam! Let us consult the spirits."
Mrs. Weir came back.
"Mrs. Fordham, ask the spirits about this strange
perverseness," said Dyer.
The woman closed her eyes and sat quite still for
a minute.


THE ANGEL AND TIIE DEMON.
201
"The spirits require the circle to be harmonized,"
was Mrs. Fordham's decision.
"You must come, Adele!" Dyer spoke half
authoritatively.
But Adele stood as firm as marble.
"Adele!" Mrs. Weir's voice, now sharp and com-
manding, thrilled through the rooms.
"There are other spirits besides Mrs. Ford-
ham's familiars, and they tell me not to harmonize
her circle to-day," answered Adele, speaking very
calmly, and with meaning emphasis.
"They are evil, lying spirits!" exclaimed Dyer,
with excitement.
"From the infernal spheres," said Mrs. Fordham,
solemnly. "I am afraid, Mrs. Weir, that sirens are
seeking to possess your daughter, that they may
utterly destroy her."
"Adele, come! Flee to us quickly!" cried Mrs.
Weir, in a tremor of excitement, stretching forth
her hands.
"My spirits are true, and I believe them!"
answered the girl, resolutely. And she stood im-
movable.
"The spirits will not communicate unless the
circle is harmonized," said Mrs. Fordham, with ill-
concealed impatience.


202
THE ANGEL AND TTTE DEMON.
"Let the perverse creature withdraw, then." Mr.
Dyer spoke sharply.
"Go!" said Mrs. Fordham, waving her hand.
But Adele stirred not.
"Go!" repeated her mother.
There was not a sign of obedience.
"All things must harmonize, or the spirits will
not answer. If the girl will not come into the
circle, she must leave the room." It was Mrs. Ford-
ham who spoke.
"The spirits tell me to remain, and I will obey
them!" said Adele, with unwavering firmness.
"They are bad spirits!" Dyer almost thundered
out the words, his pent-up anger and impatience
getting the better of his self-control.
"Lying spirits!" shrieked Mrs. Fordham, catch-
ing the excitement of the man.
"Who is to decide?" asked Adele, calmly.
"Heaven's messenger!" said Mrs. Weir, pointing
to Mrs. Fordham. "It is through her that the
spirits of the higher spheres descend."
"Heaven's messengers don't rob mothers of their
children!" Adele answered. "If there are lying
spirits in the case, they have found access to her
ears, not mine!"
"Heavens and earth!" exclaimed Dyer, starting
to his feet; "what does the girl mean?"


THE ANOEL AND THE DEMON.
203
Mrs. Fordham'8 self-imposed calmness all departed,
and the fire in her eyes shot out toward Adele like
serpent-tongues. With three or four quick passes,
she restored the little girl who sat in her lap to a
half-dreamy consciousness of real things, and then,
taking two or three strides toward the door, said,
glancing over her shoulder,—
"The same room, Mrs. Weir?"
"The same," was answered, and woman and child
disappeared from sight.


204 THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
CHAPTER XIX.
THE BIRD AND THE SERPENT.
"You needn't stand glowering upon me after that
fashion, John Dyer!" said Adele, after Mrs. Ford-
ham and the child had left the room. "I know
you, sir!"
"Silence !" was the passionate response, and
"Silence!" was repeated, though in feebler utter-
ance, from the mother of Adele.
"That is a wicked woman!" said the girl, reso-
lutely. "There is a serpent in her eyes. I saw it
when she was last here; and it looks out with
keener venom now. Mother, beware of her!—
and—" she hesitated a moment, and then went on,
in a bolder tone,—"beware of him! There is an
adder in your path: one step more, and it will sting
you to death!"
She pointed her finger steadily at Dyer, and stood
gazing at him until his eyes fell in confusion. Then
she passed from the room with rapid but noiseless
feet, gliding away like a spirit.
"An enemy hath done this," said Dyer, almost


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
205
meekly, turning to the mother of Adele. "You
have slumbered, I fear, and let the evil one scatter
tares in your field."
"I know not its meaning," sighed Mrs. Weir.
"This morning I noted the first signs of a perverse
temper."
"What were the signs?" Dyer looked sharply
into her face, reading every changing lineament, as
if he were scanning the pages of a book. There
was slight confusion, and a moment's hesitation, on
the part of Mrs. Weir. She then answered,—
"I desired to take her hand and lead her up
among the beatific mountains, but she held back.
I urged, and she refused. She then acknowledged
having resisted Mrs. Fordham in the same way when
that honored messenger made my house bright
with her presence. Oh, it is distressing me beyond
utterance!"
"Can you trace the cause?" inquired the man.
"No."
"Your sphere is not strong enough."
"Who has a stronger sphere than Mrs.Fordham?"
queried the mother. "She has set her at defiance
also: nay, her power of resistance just now proved
more than our combined influence was able to over-
come."
"I can do it!" said Dyer, after a pause. "Leave
18


206
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
her in my hands. I will exorcise the spirits of
evil."
"Your sphere repels her."
Dyer was on the alert again, and his keen glances
were upon the face of his companion.
"Has she said so?"
"Yes. And you heard her strange language just
now."
"Well? What further?"
"I have nothing further. We know that antago-
nistic spheres exist."
"True, true." The man seemed relieved. "She
has compared me to a serpent. But I know my
own heart. Evil, be thou far from me! Come,
angelic purity! As we draw nearer the invisible
world we grow more ethereal, and the coarseness
of depraved nature is dissipated in the fire of divine
affinities. To the pure all things"
The ringing of the door-bell again interrupted
their pleasant communion, and in a few momenta
they were joined by two visitors,—females,—who
met Dyer and Mrs. Weir in a manner that showed
tnem to be on terms of close familiarity.
In the mean time the woman Fordham had retired
with the child to one of the chambers above, her
mind deeply disturbed by the unexpected incident
of Adele's opposition to the necromantic rites about


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON. 207
being instituted,—so much disturbed that she was
unable to prolong the spell she wished to throw
over the consciousness of the little girl, who mo-
mently became more and more distressingly alive to
the strangeness of her position.
"Oh, ma'am," she said, in pleading tones, as the
woman shut the door on entering the chamber,
"won't you take me home? Mother is crying for
me. I heard her crying all last night . Oh, dear!
I do want to go home to my mother!"
"Don't fret yourself, child!" replied the woman,
a little harshly. "You shall go home."
"Take me home now, won't you? I don't like
to be here. You promised me yesterday that I
should go home before night. Oh, ma'am, do take
me home now!"
The little clasped hands were raised pleadingly;
the husky voice quivered; the pale face had in it a
look of fear and distress that would have melted
any heart not made hard, by selfish passions, as the
nether millstone.
"You shall go home, dear," said the woman,
softening her voice and assuming an affectionate
manner. "You shall see your mother to-night."
And she tried to lift her upon her lap, but the
child resisted and held back. Then the woman
seized her by both arms, and held her firmly, look-


208
THE ANGEL AND TITE DEMON.
ing into her eyes, and exerting the serpent's power
of fascination.
The child stood still, held by a grip too strong for
resistance, but she let her eyes fall.
"Look at me!" commanded the woman. But
the glance she hoped to catch and hold in her weird
gaze did not turn itself from the floor.
"Look at me! Do you hear?" And the woman
placed one hand under the little girl's chin and
forced her face upward. But, instead of looking at
the woman, the child shut her eyes.
Holding her thus, Mrs. Fordham commenced with
one hand a series of mesmeric passes; but the child
struggled and tried to escape from her. A blow
was evidently meditated, for there was a quick
raising of one hand, accompanied by an angry flash
sweeping over the woman's face. But the cruel
purpose was repressed.
"What has come over the girl?" she muttered,
impatiently. "Am I thus to be baffled again? I
did not look for it here! But down, excitement!
If I would regain my power, it must be through
calmness and a resolute will."
Releasing the child, who instantly shrunk away
to the farther side of the room, Mrs. Fordham
assumed an unimpassioned manner, but kept her
gaze steadily resting upon her victim.


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
209
The woman sat on the bedside, and the child
stood pale, trembling, and in tears, crouching against
the wall directly opposite. Every thing became
silent and motionless as death. The child did not
look up, but steadily persisted in avoiding the gaze
of her persecutor. But the powers of evil were too
strong: there was an eye upon her that possessed
a charm too potent for her to withstand; she was a
frightened bird struggling, but in vain, against the
fascination of a serpent. One, too, three minutes
passed; all remained hushed as if statues and not
living forms were in the room. At last the woman
stirred slightly, as though the inner excitement had
struggled through all restraining bars and shuddered
along the surface: her head gradually bent forward,
and her eyes protruded fearfully. And now there
was an apparent relaxation of muscle in the child.
Evidently, her will was losing its faculty of resist-
ance. A minute more, and the woman began
approaching, with the stealthy movements of a cat,
her eyes still fixed intently upon the girl. Cau-
tiously, and as if in doubt, she laid her hand against
her cheek, touching it lightly. The child did not
stir! She pressed the hand harder: there was no
sign of consciousness! She called: there was no
answer!
Suddenly a new life seemed thrilling along the
0 18*


210
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
woman's veins. Her countenance flushed; her
eyes danced in light; her whole person quivered.
Stooping over the child, she lifted her with some
caution, as if fearing the spell might dissolve, bore
her across the room, and laid her upon the bed.
Then she made slow passes above her for the space
of nearly five minutes.
"All right!" she muttered, as a glow of evil
triumph warmed her disfigured face, and her thin
lips parted in a demoniac smile. "It was a hard
struggle, but a vain one! There is an opposition
of spheres in this house, and the medium of its
activity is Adele Weir. Twice has she set me at
defiance, twice thwarted the spirits. It must not
occur again. Am I to be set at naught by a strip-
ling of a girl like this?"
After standing over the unconscious child for
some time longer, and using sundry tests to make
sure that she was completely locked in magic slum-
ber, Mrs. Fordham turned away, and, passing
through the door, closed it, and was going down-
stairs, when a slight noise caught her ear. Glancing
up in the direction from which it came, she caught
sight of Adele watching her from the passage
above. It was only a momentary glimpse; for, on
finding that she was observed, Adele retired from
sight instantly.


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
211
Mrs. Fordham paused, stood thinking for a little
while, and then slowly returned to the room. She
entered and examined the lock on the inside. It
held a key. This was removed and passed into the
wards on the other side.
"Thus I make surety doubly sure," she said to
herself, again closing the door, which she locked,
placing the key in her pocket. She then went
down to the parlor.
"How is our little trance-medium?" asked Dyer,
as she entered.
"All right," was answered. "Spirits from the
lower spheres have battled hard for her, but the
strife was Vain. She is safe."
"I congratulate you on the triumph," said Mrs.
Weir, enthusiastically. "She is a lovely child,"
was added, with a touch of mother-feeling in her
voice.
"The most remarkable child-medium I have yet
seen." Mrs. Fordham looked at the two visitors
before mentioned. "The communications received
through her are extraordinary. I am taking record
of them daily, and their publication will astonish
the world. Society is on the eve of some new
developments. It is the night before the morning."
"Is she tranquil?" asked Mrs. Weir.
"Entirely so."


212
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
"Sleeping?"
"All the avenues to her soul are locked, and I
have the key," said Mrs. Fordham, with triumph in
her tones. "Hark!" She paused and listened, her
eyes raised to the ceiling. After a few moments of
silence, she went on. "I thought there was a
movement in the room above. But it was imagi-
nation, I presume."
"Is there no danger of her awakening?" asked
one of the visitors.
"None: only the hand that shut the door of her
soul's consciousness can open it again."
"How wonderful is this power!" said the last
speaker. "I tremble sometimes to think what
terrible consequences might follow its abuse."
"There is no danger of its abuse," returned Mrs.
Fordham.
"You think not?"
"I am sure of it."
"None but the favored of spirits are intrusted
with this power," said Dyer; "and they are pro-
tected."
"Will not the spirits speak through her to-day?"
asked one of the visitors.
"I do not know. There have been opposing influ-
ences; but I trust they are removed. In half an
hour we will go up to where she is lying in trance-


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON. 213
sleep; and perhaps the spirits will move her to
utterance."
"Is she a speaking or writing medium?" was
asked.
"Speaking. Whenever her lips are unclosed, it
seems as if you heard a spirit talking."
Half an hour was permitted to elapse, and then
Mrs. Fordhnm, Dyer, Mrs. Weir, and the two
visitors passed with hushed footsteps up to the
chamber. At the door Mrs. Fordham paused, and,
speaking to Mrs. Weir, said,—
"Your daughter must not be permitted to enter.
The circle cannot be harmonized if she is present."
"I will see to it," was whispered back.
The door was then unlocked, and the company
entered, each one with suspended breath. Mrs.
Fordham preceded; but, ere she had gone half
across the room, an exclamation of surprise and dis-
appointment fell from her lips. The child was not
there! In less than half a minute every part of the
chamber was searched; but no sign of the missing
one appeared.
"She may have thrown herself from the win-
dow!" said Mrs. Weir, blank terror in her counte-
nance at the thought, ..
The window was opened, but no form lay on the
ground beneath.


214
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
"Where is your daughter?" demanded Mrs.
Fordham.
Mrs. Weir stepped to the door, and called,
"Adele!" Twice, thrice she called; but only echo
replied.
"It is her work!" exclaimed Mrs. Fordham,
roused to mad excitement.
"Impossible!" said Mrs. Weir. "Adele! Adele!"
Her voice went thrilling through the house.
"Search everywhere, from garret to cellar!"
Mrs. Fordham spoke in a commanding voice, and
then went striding up-stairs and sweeping like
a storm from room to room. Chambers, attics,
lumber-rooms, closets, cellar, and out-buildings,
they searched with scrupulous care; but neither
Adele nor the child were found. Both had
vanished from the house, leaving no sign.


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON. "217
herself, Adele left the room, and, going to her own
chamber, hurriedly put on a bonnet and shawl, and
then, coming back, lifted the sleeper resolutely in
her arms, and, bearing her from the apartment,
locked the door and withdrew the key. For a
few moments she stood at the top of the stairs,
irresolute as to her next step. Then, laying her
burden upon the floor, she went down the first
flight and listened. The sound of muffled voices
from the parlor was distinct enough to warn her
that one of the doors at least was open, and that it
would be folly to attempt to leave the house by the
front way. There was an outlet back, by means of
a narrow alley leading past a row of small houses
into a court, and thence to a street running parallel
with the one on which Mrs. Weir lived. But, to
reach the yard so as to gain this outlet, Adele must
descend the stairway, the foot of which was near
the back-parlor, and pass out by a door opening
within a few feet of the parlor-window. This mode
of egress was, therefore, almost as impossible as the
first, for the window she knew was open.
For a little while the excited girl was in despair;
and the words, "It is hopeless," were on her lips,
when she thought of a low shed out upon which
she could climb from one of the second-story win-
dows of the back-building. To think was to act.
19


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON. 219
vanished through the gate, shutting it noiselessly
behind her. Hurrying down the long alley-way
and through the court, Adele emerged upon the
open street. An omnibus was passing at the mo-
ment, and she signed the driver to stop. It so hap-
pened that no passengers had yet entered the vehicle,
and this made her and her insensible companion
the sole occupants when it moved on again. Taking
the extreme upper end of the seat, she placed the
child in an upright position, so as not to attract the
attention of those who might come in, and sup-
ported her with one arm.
The stage moved on for two squares before gain-
ing any accession to the number of its passengers.
Then two ladies came in. They looked hard at
Adele; also at the child whose face was hidden
among her garments. Two men came in next;
and then a woman with a little girl. After that,
an elderly man entered. He kept looking up and
down the cross-streets, and glancing at the passen-
gers on the sidewalks, in a curious, anxious kind of
way, as if in search of some one. At last he fixed
his eyes on Adele with a gaze so penetrating that
it brought the color to her face. From her he
looked to the child crouching down in the corner
of the seat, and kept gazing at the half-hidden form
until Adele by a slight movement threw her body
•


220
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
farther forward, so as to conceal it still more from
observation.
Where was Adele going with the rescued child?
That question the girl could not herself answer.
Escape was the first thing, and flight the second.
The passing omnibus had given the second stage
in the proceeding. All beyond was still in
doubt.
One passenger after another left, until only Adele
with her charge, and the old gentleman, remained.
The curiosity of the latter, it was plain to the girl,
had become strongly excited, and she began to feel
certain that he would not leave the omnibus, nor
permit her to do so, without penetrating the mys-
tery of her sleeping companion. With stealthy
glances she examined his face, in order to gain such
limited knowledge of his character as was possible
under the circumstances. Her impression was
favorable.
At last the stage reached the Exchange, and
Adele was yet undetermined what to do or which
way to go. The possession of an insensible child
in such a public place would at once attract notice,
and probably draw around her an excited and mis-
judging crowd. Fear was intruding upon her
heart.
The old gentleman stepped forward to pay his


222
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
a carriage called quieth', and, taking into it both
Adele and his recovered niece, was driven rapidly
to the residence of Mr. Dainty. On the way he
gained such information as Adele permitted him to
glean. It was not by any means satisfactory.


THE ANOEL AND THE DEMON.
223
CHAPTER XXI.
THE AKRBST.
"Found! Found!" The words rang through
the house as Uncle John entered, bearing Madeline
in his arms. Her rescuer followed with noiseless
footsteps and gliding motions.
Responsive cries of joy and the noise of rapid feet
were heard from all parts of Mr. Dainty's dwelling;
and by the time Mr. Fleetwood reached the mother's
room an eager crowd surrounded him. Tenderly
laying Madeline upon the bed, he exposed her pale,
sad-looking countenance to view, the sight of which
flooded every face with tears.
"Where is the girl?" he asked, imperatively.
"I am here." And Adele moved toward the bed.
"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded.
"What ails our precious darling?"
"The sleep is mesmeric," answered Adele, in her
low, musical voice.
"Mesmeric!" ejaculated Mr. Fleetwood.
"Mesmeric!" exclaimed Mr. Dainty, in anger.
"Who has dared to do this?"


224 THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
I
"It was Mrs. Fordham," replied Adele.
"Who is Mrs. Fordham?"
"The woman for whom you were in search," said
Adele, turning to Florence Harper, whom she had
recognised.
"Mrs. Jeckyl!" said Florence.
"Devil!" almost thundered Mr. Fleetwood.
"How is this spell to be broken?" asked Flo-
rence, coming up to Adele and grasping her arm
tightly.
"No one can break it but Mrs. Fordham. She
has locked up her senses, and she alone can open
them."
"Cannot you do it?" Florence asked, eagerly.
"No," was answered, almost mournfully.
"Try."
"It is useless." And the girl shook her head.
"Did you see it done?" now asked Mr. Fleet-
wood, turning from the bed where he had been
vainly trying to arouse Madeline to consciousness.
"No, sir. She was alone with the poor little
thing."
"You have seen children put to sleep?" Mr.
Fleetwood asked the question.
"Oh, yes, sir. Often."
"And you've seen them wakened?"
"Yes, sir."


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON. 225
"Do as you have seen it done, and wake this
child if possible."
Adele moved forward timidly, and, with evident
strong reluctance, and standing over Madeline, com-
menced making passes with her hands, beginning
at the breast and moving them upward over her
face. The motions were slow at first, but increased
in quickness. This was continued for two or three
minutes, but without apparent effect.
"It is of no use," said the girl, stopping suddenly,
and as if in despair. "I have no power. The hand
that has been at work here is stronger than mine.
You must get Mrs. Fordham."
""Where is she?"
"At my mother's house."
"Where does your mother live?"
"She knows." And Adele looked toward Flo-
rence.
"Take Florence in the carriage," said Uncle John,
speaking to Mr. Dainty, "and go with her to one of
the police-stations and get an officer. Then drive
with lightning speed to the house where the girl's
mother lives, and have Mrs. Jeckyl arrested and
brought here."
"Come." Mr. Dainty spoke to Florence, who
went hurriedly from the room, and made herself
ready in the quickest possible time,
p


228
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
"Where can we find her?" he asked, in a disap-
pointed voice.
"I know not. She comes and goes as the wind;
and no questions are asked as to her coming or
going."
"Step into this room," said the officer, motioning
to one of the parlor-doors. Mrs. Weir obeyed, and
Mr. Dainty and Florence went in with her. Quick
glances were thrown around the apartments, but
they had no other inmates.
"Remain here," said the officer. "I will search
the house. You stand by the door, sir, and do not
permit any one to pass to the street."
Mrs. Weir made various signs of rebellion; but
the officer warned her to be quiet, or he would have
her taken to the police-station. This threat really
frightened her, and she sunk down, almost nerve-
less, upon a chair.
"Be quick," said Mr. Dainty, speaking to the
officer. "The woman is tall, with a thin, sallow,
evil face, and dark, wicked eyes. You can make
no mistake."
The officer left the room. It was nearly ten
minutes before he came back.
"She ,is not in the house," he said, "and I fear
has escaped, as I find an outlet in the rear, leading
through a court, into another street."


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON. 229
"I told you that she was not here," said the wo-
man, a gleam of triumph shooting from her eyes,
and her manner exhibiting relief.
"She must be found!" Mr. Dainty spoke with
agitation. "We are on her track, and only need to
persevere. This is one of her haunts; and to this
house my poor child was brought."
"She will in all probability return here," said the
officer, "if what this woman states is true. But if
she were really in the house at the time of our
arrival, and made her escape out through the alley
and court I have mentioned, we shall have to
search for her in another direction. My advice is
to send the carriage out of the neighborhood. If
the woman should come back and see it standing
before the door, she will take the alarm, and not
enter."
"Your suggestion is good," remarked Mr.
Dainty. "I will order the carriage around the
square. The driver can wait for us in the next
street." And he went to the door and gave direc-
tions accordingly. Returning, Mr. Dainty said to
the officer,—
"Shall we all remain here, or will you go for ad-
ditional aid, so as to extend the search?"
"I think," replied the officer, "that, as this
woman is fully implicated in a very serious crime,
20


230
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
I had better take her to the police-station. She is
evidently a participant in the business, and shows
great anxiety about the escape of her accom-
plice."
Mrs. Weir's sallow face changed to a more ashen
hue at this suggestion.
"I do not know," added the officer, speaking for
effect, "that bail, under the circumstances, will be
accepted. She will no doubt be imprisoned until
all parties in this most horrible outrage are dis-
covered. Her evidence in the case will be of too
much importance for risk of absence, even under
bail, to be taken."
"Indeed, gentlemen," said Mrs. Weir, now
thoroughly frightened, "I am innocent in this
matter. Mrs. Fordham, who brought the child
here, is an entire stranger. I never saw her until
very recently."
"Where is she now? How can we trace her?"
demanded the officer.
"I know not. She went as she came, and I asked
no questions."
""More the fool for that!" said the officer, coarsely.
"But I am afraid there is as much of the knave as
the fool in the present case. Right kind of people
are not in the habit of letting suspicious old women,
and total strangers at that, come into their houses


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
231
and depart at will, yet asking no questions. The
story isn't probable, madam."
"But true, for all," answered Mrs. Weir. "It is
just as I have said. Mrs. Fordham came and went,
and I asked no questions."
"And why not?"
"Because I—I"
The woman hesitated.
"Say on."
"We are commanded not to cast pearls before
swine," she replied, with sudden spirit; "and I shall
not cast down things precious to be trampled under
your feet."
"You've got some spice in you, I see," returned
the officer, a little amused. "People in your trade
generally have. It requires a full portion to carry
them through."
The woman's face flushed as she said,—
"Explain yourself, sir! What do you mean by
my trade?"
"Oh, that of harboring child-stealing vagabonds
and the like! This seems to have been your last
occupation. But I am not here to bandy sharp
words. My business is to find Mrs. Fordham. If
you can direct me to the place where she now is,
well; if not, I must arrest you, and you will be held
in custody until she is produced,—perhaps longer."


232
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
The woman's face turned pale again.
At this moment the bell rung. Mrs. Weir started
up and was moving toward the door.
"Excuse me, madam," said the officer, laying
his hand upon her arm; "but I will attend the
door."
And he drew her firmly back. She made a
slight resistance, but the officer held her tightly for
an instant.
"Take her in charge, if you please," he
said to Mr. Dainty, "while I see after this
visitor."
Mr. Dainty did not hesitate. Grasping her arm,
he said, sternly,—
"Let us have no trifling! This business may cost
you dear. Complicity in crime is no light matter, I
can tell you."
The officer was now at the street-door. As he
opened it, a tall woman in black, answering in all
respects to the description of Mrs. Fordham, stood
ready to enter.
"Walk in, madam," he said.
But she stood still, with her keen eyes reading
every lineament of his face. She was not satisfied
with its expression.
"Walk in," repeated the officer.
"No, I thank you. Please say to Mrs. Weir that


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON. 2G3
Mrs. Fordham would like to see her at the door for
a moment."
"Mrs. Weir is engaged," was the officer's
reply.
"Has her daughter returned?" queried Mrs.
Fordham.
"Yes."
"Ask her to step here."
By this time Mrs. Fordham had retreated a little,
and the oflicer, seeing that she was about descend-
ing the steps, moved suddenly forward, and, throw-
ing one arm around her waist, drew her with a
sudden jerk into the passage and shut the door.
The movement was so quick, and so unexpected,
that the woman was taken entirely off of her
guard.
"You are arrested for child-stealing!" said the
officer, ere she had recovered from her surprise.
"It is Mrs. Jeckyl!" exclaimed Florence, appear-
ing at the parlor-door.
"Mrs. Jeckyl! Oh, wretch! wretch!" said Mr.
Dainty, who had released Mrs. Weir, and now con-
fronted the thoroughly-alarmed woman, who, seeing
herself completely in the power of these two men,
gave up without a struggle.
"Shall I go for the carriage?" said the officer.
"Yes, immediately. But, stay! let me call
20*


234
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
the carriage, while you hold your prisoner in
charge."
"What are you going to do?" demanded Mrs.
Jeckyl, with regaining self-possession, as Mr. Dainty
left the house.
"My business," replied the officer, "is to make
this arrest. What follows will depend on the cha-
racter of evidence which may be produced against
you."
"At whose instance is the arrest made?"
"At the instance of Mr. Dainty, whose child you
abducted."
"I must know your authority!" The woman was
growing bolder.
The officer merely took a metal star from his
pocket and fastened it against his breast.
The effect was instantaneous. The woman's eye
quailed beneath his steady gaze.
"Come," said .the officer, as the carriage was
heard rattling to the door. She hesitated, but
moved as she saw his hand rising to grasp her
arm.
"Do you wish the other woman arrested,
also?" inquired the officer, on meeting Mr.
Dainty at the door. "She is without doubt an
accomplice."
. "I only want this woman now," said Mr.


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON. 235
Dainty. "If the other is needed we can send for
her."
"But will hardly find her," muttered the officer.
Mr. Dainty did not heed the remark. He was too
eager to have Mrs. Jeckyl conveyed to his dwelling
to pause on any other considerations. Entering the
carriage with Mrs. Jeckyl, Florence, and the officer,
he ordered the driver to take them to his residence
in the quickest possible time. Heeding the injunc-
tion, the driver put the whip upon his horses, and
dashed rapidly away.


236
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
CHAPTEE XXH.
BREAKING THE SPELL.
It was more than an hour from the time Mr.
Dainty and Florence left to go in search of Mrs.
Jeckyl, before they returned, bringing the woman
with them. During all tbat period not a sign of
life, beyond a feeble heart-beat, did Madeline exhibit.
Mrs. Dainty was almost wild with distress, and sat
over her child, weeping and wringing her hands.
Agnes was calmer, but in deep grief; while TJucle
John moved about the chamber in which Madeline
lay, as restless as an unshrived ghost. Adele sat by
the bedside, her face bent down, and hidden from
view. Occasionally Uncle John or Mr. Dainty
would ask her a question. Then she would look
up, exhibiting a pale countenance, and answer in a
low voice that was touchingly sad.
Many times had both the mother and Mr. Fleet-
wood renewed their efforts to break the fearful
spell that lay upon the unconscious child. An
age of suspense they endured until Mr. Dainty's
return.


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
237
At last a carriage was heard at the door. Uncle
John went to the window.
"They have come!" he said, greatly excited, as
he saw Mr. Dainty step to the pavement. "There
is an officer!" he added. "And there is Mrs.
Jeckyl! Oh, the wretch! yet how glad I am to
see her!"
Breathless expectation followed. Adele arose
from her place by the bedside, and shrunk away
into a remote part of the room; while Agnes came
nearer to Madeline, and laid her hand upon her.
The mingled sounds of voices and footsteps were
heard along the passage and on the stairs, and
then the chamberdoor opened, and Mr. Dainty en-
tered, followed by Mrs. Jeckyl, the officer, and
Florence.
On the stern face of the woman sat a dark, defiant
scowl. She looked at Mrs. Dainty, at Agnes, and
at Uncle John, with unflinching eyes, but did not
speak. Quick glances were then thrown about
the room, and Adele, half hidden by one of the
window-curtains, was only partially seen, but not
recognised.
"For what purpose am I here?" she asked, look-
ing at Mr. Dainty.
"Simply to undo your evil work," he replied.
"You see that child?" and he pointed to the bed.


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
239
Mrs. Jeckyl, and her young lips compressed and
resolute.
"You do know something of the child." She
spoke out boldly. "For you brought her to my
mother's house. Iler present condition is the work
of your hands, and you can restore her in a moment
if you will."
Mrs. Jeckyl's countenance grew almost livid with
rage; and she glared at Adele, as if seeking to blast
her with her burning eyes. But the young girl
stood without a quailing glance, and looked up
steadily into her face.
• "It is as I say, and you know it." There was no
sign of fear or embarrassment in the voice of the
brave young girl.
"Then act quickly!" said Mr. Dainty.
"Oh, Mrs. Jeckyl, help us if you can! Break the
spell that rests on our dear child!" Mrs. Dainty
clasped her hands and spoke imploringly.
But the woman stirred not from the place where
she stood.
"She can do it if she will." It was Adele who
spoke, and her voice was clear aud confident.
Mrs. Jeckyl again scowled upon her, like a wild
animal at bay.
"I have sent for the doctor," said Mr. Fleetwood,
returning to the room where the excited family


240 THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
stood hovering around the bed on which Madeline
lay. "We were simpletons not to have done this
before. My faith is stronger in him than in this
impostor. It will be found, I think, that Madeline's
unnatural sleep is the effect of some drug, or of
fright, or injury."
A grim smile parted the lips of Mrs. Jeckyl.
"She can bring her to in a moment, if she will,"
persisted Adele. "I've seen such things done
many, many times."
"No one asked you for information," said Mrs.
Jeckyl, turning in an excited manner toward the girl.
"This is mere trifling," spoke out the police-
officer, sternly, and he advanced to the side of Mrs.
Jeckyl. "Why was she brought here?" And he
looked toward Mr. Dainty.
"To remove from this child the spell she has
cast upon her through some infernal art."
"So I understood. Very well, madam, let it be
done at once."
Mrs. Jeckyl stood, in evident debate with herself,
for some moments.
"If I do as you desire, what then?" She ad-
dressed Mr. Dainty.
"Quick! quick! Mrs. Jeckyl!" now broke in
Mrs. Dainty. "Oh, save my child! She will die!
Break this terrible sleep!"


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON. 245
CHAPTER XXIII.
THE ANGEL STRONGER THAN THE DEMON.
"I have wronged you, Miss Harper," whispered
Mrs. Dainty.
It cost the weak, proud woman an effort to make
this acknowledgment. But Madeline's arms were
around both of their necks, and the child was cling-
ing to both with a half-trembling eagerness. This
confession made all the rest easy.
'/Return to us," she added, "and be to my chil-
dren what you once were."
"Do come back again!" It was the pleading
voice of Madeline. "Oh, I wish you had never
gone away!"
Florence felt a shudder run through the child's
body, as if some fearful image had been presented
to her mind.
"Say you will come back, and take your old
place, Miss Harper," urged Mrs. Dainty.
The arm of Madeline which was around her
mother's neck withdrew itself and joined the arm
that circled the neck of Florence.
21*


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
247
curiously, glancing, as she spoke, toward .the win-
dows. "Is it morning?
"No: the day is nearly done. It lacks scarcely
an hour to sunset."
"Is it so late?" Madeline looked serious, and
her face passed from transient light into shadow.
"Yes. You have slept a long time. But come,
dear, you must get dressed for tea."
Madeline looked up at Miss Harper with a kind
of vague wonder in her countenance, and then let
her eyes wander slowly about the room, as if search-
ing for some-person or object.
"Haven't I been away from here, Miss Harper?"
she inquired, looking at Florence.
"Why do you ask that question?"
"I'm sure it isn't all just a dream. That Mrs.
Jeckyl! Oh, dear! I feel so strangely!" And
Madeline laid her hand upon her breast.
"Don't think of any thing, dear, but the happy
present," said Florence, smiling into the little girl's
face.
But the eyes of Madeline were filling with tears,
and their expression had become very sad.
"Oh, it was so dreadful!"
"What was dreadful, Maddy?" her mother
asked.
"I don't know," she answered, in a bewildered


248
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
manner. "I saw it all just now; and now it's gone
again."
"What is gone, love?"
"I thought she was going to kill me." The child
spoke as if to herself.
"Who, Maddy?"
"It was Mrs. Jeckyl. She had me in a room.
Oh, dear, mother! I don't know what's the matter
with me!"
And the child shuddered, while an expression of
almost abject fear came into her face.
"You are safe at home, my love,'' said Mrs.
Dainty, in a soothing voice. "There is no Mrs.
Jeckyl here, but kind Miss Harper instead. And
she is going to stay with us."
'That's best of all," replied Madeline, partially
recovering herself, and looking up into the face of-
Miss Harper. "I was so sorry when you went
away and that dreadful woman came in your
place."
"Won't you rise now?" said Florence, taking
Madeline by the hand and drawing her gently
ipwards. The child yielded, and sat erect in bed.
Mrs. Dainty brought a frock, and a change of
under-clothing, and both she and Florence busied
themselves in removing the soiled garments of Made-
line and replacing them with such as were fresh


250
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
*
<
"Is she?" responded the little boy, with a
suddenly illuminated face.
"Yes, indeed. A'n't you, Miss Harper?" 'And
Madeline looked up into the face of her gover-
ness.
"If you want me?" was the smiling reply.
"Oh, that's grand!" said George, striking his
hands together and jumping a foot from the floor.
"Did you hear that, Uncle'Join?"
"Hear what?" asked the oldjgentleman.
"Miss Harper is coming back again!" answered
the boy. "Oh, I'm so glad!"
Mr. Fleetwood threw an almost - grateful look
upon Florence, as he said,—
"You have friends here, Miss Harper. Children
are no hypocrites."
"If this is true, as I hope it is, let me welcome
you with a most sincere welcome," said Mr. Dainty,
coming forward and giving his hand to Florence.
Mrs. Dainty entered at the moment. She had
lingered in the chamber after Florence left.
"It is true," she spoke out, with womanly frank-
ness. "I have asked her to return, and she has
kindly consented. We shall all know each other
better in time, I hope."
The flushed cheeks, drooping eyes, and unsteady
lips of Miss Harper showed emotion, not triumph;


252
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
hadn't we, Maddy? Do you remember the stories
I used to tell?"
They were already in the passage.
"Oh, yes, indeed!" was answered. "And they
were such beautiful stories!"
"Would you like to hear another? I know a
great many," said Florence.
"If you please, Miss Harper. I always love to
hear your stories; they make me feel better."
"Oh, it looks as natural as can be!" said Flo-
rence, speaking with animation, as she entered the
study-room. "Here is my arm-chair, just in the
old place. There! I am in it again, feeling quite
at home and comfortable."
"And I am in my little chair, close by your side,
and waiting for a story," said Madeline, who was
already feeling the spirit of her companion and
true friend as well as teacher.
"The story, is it?" And Florence bent down
and left a kiss upon the sweet, upturned face.
"Very well: my promise shall be kept. Now, let
me think: what shall the story be?"
Miss Harper lifted her eyes, and sat thoughtful
for some moments. Then, reaching her hand
toward a table that stood near, she took up a Bible,
saying, as she did so,—
"I used to read you some of the stories in this


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON. 253
precious volume, and I think you always loved to
hear them. Shall it be a Bible story now?"
Florence was looking down upon the face of her
pupil. Its expression suddenly changed into one of
strong repugnance, and, with an impatient gesture,
she said,—
"No! I don't want to hear a Bible story!"
Florence was shocked by the tone and manner
of the child more than by her words.
"Not a story from the Divine Book, Maddy
dear?" she said, in a voice touched by an irre-
pressible sadness. "Oh, you cannot mean what
you have said! Angels are present with us in the
holy word; and they bring to our souls peace and
happiness. Let me read to you about the birth of
our Saviour in Bethlehem."
Miss Harper opened to the second chapter of
Matthew: as she did so, Madeline turned her head
away. Miss Harper began,—
"Now, when Jesus was born"
The instant these words reached the ears of Made-
line, she sprung upon the volume in the hands of
Miss Harper, and would have torn the open pages,
if she had not been prevented. Her countenance
was flushed almost to congestion, and her eyes
gleamed with an evil light.
22


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
255
"There were other attendants on that baby, be-
sides those visible to human eyes."
The hands of Madeline were raised quickly, but
the closing words of the sentence arrested the
movement.
"The mother did not see them; the father did
not see them: but still they were there."
The hands of Madeline began to fall, and her ear
slightly turned, listening, toward Florence.
"I said they were not visible to human eyes,"
resumed Miss Harper. Madeline looked up, be-
guiled into wonder. "But they were as really pre-
sent, and as near the baby, as its parents. No,—not
both of them." The last sentence was spoken in a
changed tone, as if it involved some special mean-
ing.
"Not both? "Who were they?" asked Madeline,
her interest beginning to be excited.
"The one that stood near the babe," said Miss
Harper, "had the form of a beautiful woman just
passed upward from sweet young girlhood. Her
countenance was lovelier, and purer in expression,
than that of any face ever seen by you in a picture.
She bejit over the babe with clasped hands, gazing
down upon it with looks of wondering love; and
when it smiled her face grew suddenly radiant.
The other," (Miss Harper's voice fell lower, and


256 THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
took on a graver tone,) "stood in a distant corner
of the room, almost crouching down, as if held
there by some superior power. Very different was
she from the pure being who bent over the child.
Her face wore a frowning, malignant expression.
Instead of curling golden hair gracefully falling
around her neck and upon her shoulders, dark,
tangled locks stood out from her head, or crept
down over her face, like serpents."
"Who were they?" asked Madeline, now tho-
roughly interested.
"One was the baby's guardian angel; the other,
an evil spirit."
Madeline raised her eyes to the face of Miss
Harper with looks of deeper wonder.
"The angel's presence," resumed Florence, "was
alone sufficient to hold that evil spirit, who wished
to hurt the tender babe, at a distance; just as good
affections in our hearts have power to hold the bad
and selfish ones so far away that they can do us no
possible harm. Day by day that infant grew larger,
and brighter, and happier; but never for a moment
did the angel remove, nor for a moment cease to
spread around the babe a sphere of tender love, of
innocent and holy calmness. And the mother, and
all who drew near to look upon the babe or to hold
it like a precious thing in their arms, felt this


258
THB ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
old, the angel's face would at times be shadowed;
and then a gleam of malignant pleasure would flash
over the countenance of the attendant fiend. And
now I will tell you the reason. Do you wish to
hear?"
"Oh, yes, Miss Harper! Tell me the reason,"
answered Madeline, all attention.
"The babe, even as early as I have said, dis-
played an evil temper. It grew angry, pushed its
mother away, and resisted her. This troubled the
guardian angel, and this it was that gave the fiend
delight. But these fits of passion were but tran-
sient, passing away as the morning cloud and the
early dew, under the sunny influence of that blessed
guardian angel. The fiend was still repelled,—still
kept at a distance. But she wearied not with wait-
ing. She knew that her time would come,—that
the angel would not always have power to hold her
in the distance."
Miss Harper paused, and looked into the face of
Madeline. There was something in its deeply-
interested expression that a little puzzledier.
"Shall I go on?" she asked.
"The fiend didn't hurt the baby, Miss Harper?
The angel didn't go away?" Her voice was earnest
almost to eagerness.
"The angels never leave us of their own accord.


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
261
baby by stimulating them to a more rapid growth.
Do you understand my meaning?"
«I think so."
"One of the first things that was taught to this
baby, as its mind began to open, was the existence
of God."
Florence spoke low and reverently, while her
eyes were fixed upon the countenance of her atten-
tive listener. She saw a slight impulse strike the
child's features, and a flush of sudden feeling veil
them.
"Of that good God who had sent his pure angel
to be its guardian," she added, in a still lower and
more reverent voice.
The light returned again to Madeline's face.
"'How shall I do this?' asked the mother, in her
own heart; and the reply came. She did not know
that it was the angel's voice that gave the wished-
, for answer. So she took the little one's hands in
hers one evening, clasped and raised them upward,
and said, 'God bless little Amy.' The baby was
too young to repeat the words of her mother, or
even to comprehend their full meaning; but the
angel, who bent very near, breathed a holy feeling
into her tender spirit, and she had a faint im-
pression of something higher than the visible,
and up to which she might look for blessing.


262
TUE AXGEL AND THE DEMON.
How sweetly the angel smiled at this! how darkly
frowned the watchful fiend! The first idea of God
was given; and that was a great gain, for the angel
could now be more intimately present with the child
in this idea. So far the angel was triumphing over
the fiend."
"Are angels present with us when we think of
God?" asked Madeline, interrupting Miss Harper,
and speaking with the manner of one who felt an
interest in the question.
"If we think of him reverently, they are."
"How, reverently, Miss Harper?"
"As great, and good, and holy," said Florence;
"for then we shall desire to be like him, and angels
are always present with us when we desire to be
good."
"And do they help us to be good?"
"Always. To them it is the most delightful of
employments."
The eyes of Madeline drooped. She sighed
faintly, and remained silent. Florence waited for
some moments, and then went on, speaking slowly
and impressively:—
"Tenderly loved and wisely guarded, the first
moons of the baby's life waxed and waned, and at
last a golden year of its life was completed. The
idea of God, once conceived in the child's mind,


2G4
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
leaned her head and listened with fixed attention.
Thus she read:—' Now, when Jesus was born in
Bethlehem of Judea, in the days of Herod the
king, behold there came wise men from the East to
Jerusalem, saying, Where is he that is born king
of the Jews? for we have seen his star in the east,
and are come to worship him.' The evil spirit
could not abide in the presence of this word of
truth, as it entered the mind of an innocent little
child, and so retired to a distance, almost writhing
in hatred and pain. The mother read on:—' When
Herod the king had heard these things, he was
troubled, and all Jerusalem with him. And when
he had gathered all the chief priests and scribes of
the people together, he demanded of them where
Christ should be born. And they said unto him,
In Bethlehem of Judea, for thus it is written by the
prophet: And thou, Bethlehem, in the land of
Juda, art not the least among the princes of Juda,
for out of thee shall come a governor, that shall
rule my people Israel. Then Herod, when he had
privily called the wise men, inquired of them dili-
gently at what time the star appeared. And he
sent them to Bethlehem, and said, Go and search
diligently for the young child, and when ye have
found him, bring me word, that I may come and
worship him also. When they had heard the king,


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON. 265
they departed; and lo! the star which they saw in
the east went before them, till it came and stood over
where the young child was. When they"saw the
star, they rejoiced with exceeding great joy. And
when they were come into the house, they saw the
young child, with Mary his mother, and fell down
»
and worshipped him; and when they had opened
their treasures they presented unto him gifts,—gold,
and frankincense, and myrrh.'"
Florence had triumphed; for Madeline was listen-
ing to this story of the Nativity with deep attention.
And so she kept on, repeating from memory the
whole chapter.
"And now," continued Florence, "not a day
passed in which that innocent little one did not ask
her mother to read; and the mother read to her, at
least once every day, some story from the Bible, so
that, as she grew older, her memory was full of pre-
cious histories, in the thought of which her guar-
dian angel could be present with her. She loved to
hear of little Samuel; of Joseph, who was sold into
Egypt by his brethren; and of the blessed Saviour,
who went about doing good.
"And the child grew, and grew, until babyhood
was passed and the sweetness of infancy gave place
to a more earnest life. But always the day opened
or closed with some lesson from the holy book;
23


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
269
CHAPTER XXIV.
AN UNEXPECTED REVELATION.
In the excitement attendant on the restoration of
Madeline to conscious life, Adele had been for-
gotten. Uncle John was the first to remember her.
It was immediately after the withdrawal of Florence
with her charge to the study-room.
"Where is the girl ?" he asked, suddenly glancing
around.
No one could answer the question.
"Did you leave her in your chamber?"
Uncle John spoke to his niece.
"I do not think she is there," replied Mrs. Dainty.
"I hope she has not left the house," said Uncle
John. There was concern in his voice, and'he
moved, as he spoke, toward the door. "We are
largely in her debt, and she, I think, needs our pro-
tection."
"She shall have it!" Mr. Dainty spoke with
emphasis. "Go, Madeline, and see if she has re-
mained in your room."
Mrs. Dainty went to Her chamber.
23*


270
THE, ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
"Not here!" She uttered the words just audibly.
A few moments she stood, her eyes glancing around
the apartment, when a low sound, like a repressed
sob, came to her ears. Stepping forward, she drew
aside one of the heavy window-curtains. There sat
Adele, crouching upon a low ottoman, her face
buried in her hands.
"We were afraid you had gone," said Mrs.
Dainty, speaking in a kind-voice, and laying her
hand gently on the girl's head.
Adele looked up, but did not answer. Her
singularly beautiful face, in which the softness of
childhood still blended with woman's firmer out-
lines, was pale and very sad. Mrs. Dainty, whose
nerves were still all ajar, felt something like awe
steal into her heart as she looked upon the counte-
nance which was upturned to hers.
Just then TJncle John, whose anxiety about the
young stranger would not permit him to await the
return of his niece, entered the room. His face
brightened as he saw Adele.
"Ah, my brave girl, you are here. We were
afraid you had left the house," he said, encou-
ragingly.
Adele arose, and stood, with timid, downcast
look, before Mrs. Dainty and Mr. Fleetwood.
"We owe you more than thanks," said the latter.


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON. 271
"The service you have rendered us is beyond all
price. How shall we repay the obligation?"
Adele raised her dark eyes and looked steadily
into the face of Mr. Fleetwood. There was a strange
depth and beauty in those eyes, and something
mournful and pleading. Mr. Fleetwood felt their
appeal.
"What is your name?" he asked.
"Adele," replied the girl.
"Adele—what?"
A slight flush came into her face; but she did
not answer until after a silence of several moments.
She then said,—
"Adele Weir."
"Do you wish to return to your mother?"
This question disturbed the girl. There was
evidently a strong mental conflict.
"If mother was as she used to be. But"
The feelings of Adele overmastered her, and she
again covered her face. Shuddering sobs almost
convulsed her frame. They were not loud, but
repressed as if by the whole strength of her will.
"If mother was as she used to be." Self-pos-
session was restored, after a brief struggle. "But
she is not, and I am afraid never will be. Since she
became a medium, she has not been like my mother
of old. The spirits tell her a great many strange


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON. 273
I am afraid her right reason is gone. When I was
a very little girl, she belonged to the church, and
used to read the Bible a great deal. She always
read it aloud when I was with her; and bo I got my
thoughts full of verses and stories, until I could say
almost chapters by heart. But mother believes now
that spirits are making a higher revelation than the
Bible, and that its teachings are of but small account
in comparison. I am afraid that if the spirits were
to tell her to do almost any thing that is forbidden
in the Bible, she would jio it . Isn't it dreadful?"
"Dreadful indeed!" said Mr. Fleetwood. "But
you believe in the Bible?"
"Oh, yes,—yes! At first they put me to sleep,
and tried to make a medium of me. I believe that
I did write and talk some. But when I got back
into my real self again I had such awful feelings
that I was sure it must be wrong. And so I prayed
God to teach and help me. And I think he did.
Their power over me grew less and less; and at
last I was able to throw it all off. Oh, sir, I do
not think it would be right for me to go back
again."
"You must not return," answered Mr. Fleetwood,
positively. "God heard your prayer, verily, and has
granted you a deliverance."
The lashes of the girl's eyes fell slowly down
-8


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
275
"Can't I eat with Miss Harper?" And Made-
line pushed her chair a little way back from the
table.
Mrs. Dainty's eyes met those of her husband.
Her face grew troubled and irresolute; his evinced
a puzzled state of mind. Uncle John looked at his
niece, and mutely signed for her to say yes.
"H you prefer doing s^>," answered Mrs. Dainty,
replying to Madeline. "But I would rather have
you take tea with us."
Consent and objection at the same time only
tended to push the child's mind further away from
an even balance. She had stepped back from the
table with a light motion as consent passed her
mother's lips, but stood suddenly still, with a
clouded face, at the objection.
"Run along, dear," said Uncle John, in a cheer-
ful voice. "Mother says yes."
Madeline moved a pace or two, and then stopped.
Her chin was drawn down, her brow contracted,
her lips pouting.
"Go, go, dear! Mother is willing." Mrs. Dainty
saw her error, and now, hoping to retrieve it, spoke
with pleasant animation.
Madeline looked up at her mother, as if in doubt
of her sincerity. Mrs. Dainty smiled tenderly, and
said, in a loving voice,—


278
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
CHAPTER XXV.
A REVELATION.
Mr. and Mrs. Dainty and Uncle John sat alone
in the library, into which they had passed from the
tea-table. Uncle John referred to the remark of
his niece about the children eating with inferiors.
He spoke with unusual sobriety of manner, and in
a voice subdued far below its ordinary tone; for
Mr. Fleetwood was not only a man of quick feel-
ings, but one who rarely took special trouble in the
way of concealment.
"In what respect, Madeline," he asked, in open-
ing the conversation, "do you think the children
will suffer injury by sitting at the same table with
Miss Harper? Don't be annoyed at the question.
Don't let feeling obscure your mind. There is
much of vital importance involved in this matter.
Let us come to its consideration moved solely by a
desire to see what is right. You are the mother of
these children, and your interest in them should be
higher than your regard for any social usage or for


282 THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
"Put her upon a social equality with yourself."
"How?"
"If she were your sister, what then?"
"She is not."
"But if she were? Then she would sit with you
at table; she would meet your friends; she would
be a trusted companion."
"She is not my sister," answered Mrs. Dainty.
"Suppose she were the daughter, or adopted
daughter, of a valued friend or wealthy citizen?"
"That would alter the case. But she is not."
"Are you sure?" Uncle John's voice fell to a
lower tone, and had in it a quiver of feeling.
"I am sure," said Mrs. Dainty, with confidence.
Uncle John let his eyes sink to the floor. It was
plain that there was something held back in his
thoughts.
"I wish," he said at length, almost sadly, "that
I could help you to see below the surface of things,
—that you were able to tell gold from tinsel, worth
from its counterfeit. All true value lies in quality.
You know the quality of Florence Harper. Honor
the good, then. Be independent in your sphere of
life. Set the noble example of being just. You can
afford to do so. Let it be seen as a new thing, and
worthy of emulation, that in choosing a companion
and instructor for your children you take one worthy


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
283
to sit by your side and share your favor and con-
fidence. You cannot see into the mind of an infe-
rior and a dependant as you can into the mind of
one who is regarded as an equal."
But Uncle John could not lift the minds of Mr.
and Mrs. Dainty up into the clear-seeing region that
his own occupied.
"It is all in vain to press that view," said his
niece. "There are certain social distinctions that
must be maintained. As to Miss Harper, if her
presence as a governess in our family is to be at the
cost of your constant interference in the matter of
position, I shall be driven to the necessity of dis-
missing her from my service."
The little head of Mrs. Dainty balanced itself
firmly, and she looked dignified and composed. But
she was not prepared for the change that instantly
appeared in Uncle John's manner. He stood up
very erect, with a firm, decided manner, and said,
like a man iu earnest,—
"You will not, I presume, reverse your present
decision V
"I will not," replied the lady.
"Then Florence cannot remain." Mr. Fleetwood
spoke as by authority.
"I can't see," said Mrs. Dainty, "that you have
any right to control her movements."


286 THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
said, if she were my own child I could not love her
more tenderly. True, wise, noble-hearted, self-ab-
negating girl! To me it is a cause of wonder that
your eyes were not able to see the angel in your
house."
"I am bewildered, Uncle John," said Mrs. Dainty,
greatly subdued. "Leave me now, that I may col-
lect my thoughts."
"As you collect them," replied Mr. Fleetwood,
"I pray you to examine each with the closest care.
Only true thoughts lead to right actions. Let there
be no error in your summing up,—no fatal defect in
your conclusions. There are two paths diverging
before you: Madeline, spoiled child of a dear sister!
beware, lest you take the wrong one!"
And he went, in evident agitation, from the room.


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
287
CHAPTER XXVI.
REVIEWING THE MATTER.
"That alters the case," Mrs. Dainty spoke sug-
gestively, raising her eyes from the floor, and look-
ing at her husband. It was nearly five minutes
after Uncle John had left the library.
"Yes, that alters the case," was the half-dreamy
response of Mr. Dainty. "That alters the case," he
repeated, and then relapsed into silence.
So far they were agreed.
"That artful girl"
Mrs. Dainty paused, for she was not entirely cer-
tain in regard to her husband's present estimate of
Miss Harper.
"Do you think her artful?" inquired Mr. Dainty,
looking at his wife. \
"See what influence she has gained over Uncle
John."
"That may be explained on other grounds," said
Mr. Dainty.
"What are they?"
"He has himself referred to them."


288 THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
"I thought he had forgotten Florence Williams
years ago, or that, if he remembered her at all, it
was with indifference or dislike. She jilted him
meanly. But I was always glad of it."
"Madeline," said Mr. Dainty, speaking in a de-
cided way, "we cannot change the present con-
dition of things: that each of us may see at a
glance. And the question for us to ponder is, can
we afford to let our feelings rule, and so break with
Uncle John? There is no use in beating around
the bush. No use in fretting ourselves. The horns
of our dilemma are visible as the sun at noonday,
and we must make our election. Uncle John has
made his: that is certain."
"And do you really think he will give us and
our children up for that girl?" said Mrs. Dainty.
"I am sure of it. Did you not see how he was
moved when he said that he loved her as if she were
his own child? I marked it well. I have seen him
disturbed a hundred times in my life, but never as
he was this evening."
Mrs. Dainty sighed deeply.
"We shall have to humor him," said Mr.
Dainty.
"And let that upstart triumph over me!" Mrs.
Dainty burst into tears. Pride could not endure
the thought.


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
289
"Are you not prejudiced against her, Madeline?
She has never seemed to me presuming."
Before Mrs. Dainty could reply, the library-door
was pushed open, and Madeline came gliding in.
From her manner it was plain that she had come to
make a request, and also plain that she was in doubt
as to its reception.
"Mother," she said, as she paused a few steps
from Mrs. Dainty.
"Well, dear?"
"Can't I "The child hesitated, and her face
colored.
"Say on, dear."
"Can't I sleep with Miss Harper?"
A strongly-uttered negative was on the lip of
Mrs. Dainty, when a warning look and gesture from
her husband forced her to keep silence.
"Can't I, mother?" urged the child. "Say yes.
Do, mother!"
Madeline was unusually earnest.
"Why do you wish to sleep with Miss Harper?"
asked her father.
"Oh, because she is good, and I love her."
"Don't you love sister Agnes?"
"Yes, I love her." The tone of Madeline's voice
fell.
"Isn't she good?"
T 25


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
291
"Toleration is not going to do," she answered.
"Entire social equality is demanded; and nothing
less will satisfy either of them."
"I am not sure that Miss Harper has demanded
any thing. Uncle John said she had not, and that
she was here only upon his strong solicitation. It
is barely possible, Madeline, that you have misunder-
stood her from the beginning. At least, one thing
is now certain. Her social position will be changed
by Uncle John's formal adoption. She will be lifted
to our level, and society will recognise her. So far
we will be all right with the world."
"There is something in that," said Mrs. Dainty,
a trifle softened. "But will she remain as governess
to the children?"
"We can sink the word 'governess.' Let her be
their companion and instructor."
"Only another name for the same thing," re-
marked Mrs. Dainty. "The position is menial."
"I have thought differently, since Uncle John's
remarks a little while ago," said Mr. Dainty. "They
struck me as having great force."
"What did he say? I was so excited and out-
raged that I scarcely comprehended him."
"He said that the teacher, guide, and companion
of our children must be socially equal, or she cannot
lift them up to our level. And he asked, with to


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMOX.
295
have her remain as your governess. We had no
knowledge of all this when she came here, but he
told us about it this evening. And now she is going
to be one of us; that is, she will be as our daughter
and your elder sister."
"How glad I am! how glad I am!" exclaimed
Agnes, striking her hands together, while tears
filled her eyes. "But, mother, you don't say any
thing!" And she stood up and looked earnestly
into her mother's face.
"Can you accept her as an equal?" asked Mrs.
Dainty, almost coldly.
"She is wiser and better than I am," replied
Agnes, humbly. "If she will accept me as a sister,
my heart will yield to her joyfully. Dear mother,
take her into favor and love, for she is worthy."
"Leave us now, daughter," said Mrs. Dainty, in a
softened voice. "We will talk about this another
time."
And Agnes, after kissing her mother affection-
ately, withdrew from the library.
"The thing is inevitable." Mrs. Dainty was not
by any means reconciled, as both tone and manner
indicated.
"But easy."
"Easy?"
"Yes, and may be accepted gracefully. Let us


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
297
"I see; I see," answered Mrs. Dainty, moodily.
"But, when a thing has to be done, only fools hesi-
tate. I will discipline my feelings to-night, and to-
morrow put on toward this usurping girl a new
exterior. Don't fear but that I shall play my part."
"It may cost you a struggle," said her husband,
"but the strife will soon be over. I hope much
from her gentle nature, and much from her clear
perception of right. She will not,' I am sure, take
a mean advantage of this great diversion in her
favor."
"Time will show," was the almost sullen re-
sponse.


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON. 301
old man's breast and wept passionately. Even the
worldly, calculating heart of Mrs. Dainty was touched,
and Mr. Dainty drew his hand quickly across his
eyes to dash away the blinding drops.
"I promised Madeline to return very soon."
Florence was the first to gain entire self-control.
She spoke in a low but steady voice, as she looked
up. "And now I must go back to her. I need
not say that my heart is deeply touched by this
unexpected occurrence. You offer more than I
have any right to claim,—more than I desire. Let
me still be to your children as in the beginning. I
came as their teacher; I have learned to love them;
I am sure that I can do them good."
"The children's teacher, and the mother's friend!"
said Mrs. Dainty, whose feelings were taking a
higher tone. She saw herself in the right path,
although by constraint, and felt that the way before
her was easier to walk in than she had dared to
hope.
"Yes,—the mother's friend," Mr. Fleetwood spoke
slowly and with emphasis; "for none else is worthy
to be the children's instructor, companion, and
guide."
While he was yet speaking, Florence retired from
the room.
"You have done well, Madeline," added Mr.
26


302 THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
Fleetwood, as the door closed on Florence, "and
better a great deal than I had reason to expect. In
bending down to one like Miss Harper, and raising
her up to the social level you occupy, there is no
loss on your part, while the sphere of life in which
you move gains largely by an accession of virtue,
intelligence, refined taste, and womanly self-reliance.
Depend upon it, Madeline, the benefit is largely in
your favor. Florence will give more of good than
she receives."
"She is certainly a remarkable girl," said Mr.
Dainty. "In our late trouble she exhibited qualities
that now excite my admiration. If our dear lost
child had been her own sister, she could not have
pursued the search with greater assiduity. We owe
her more than we can ever repay."
"And there is a work," replied Mr. Fleetwood,
speaking in a tone of unusual seriousness, "which,
if she have the wisdom to execute, will lay us under
still higher obligations."
Uncle John paused. Mr. and Mrs. Dainty looked
at him inquiringly.
"Maddy is changed."
He paused again,—then added,—
"And there is a fearful mystery connected with
the change. We trace its beginning from the
hour that demon in human guise entered our


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON. 303
home, and let the glare of her evil eye fall upon
the child. She gained, by some infernal art, control
over the will of that child, and led her off a captive,
powerless to resist. Thank God, we have rescued
her, so far as the body is concerned. But the thral-
dom went far below the visible and the external.
There is yet a spell upon her life,—a spell that must
be broken; and I have no hope, except in Florence
Harper!"
A shadow of fear settled on the face of Mrs.
Dainty.
"It is wonderful," continued Uncle John, "with
what wise caution Miss Harper is already acting
toward Maddy. Would you believe it? the child
not only refused to let Florence read to her from
the Bible, but actually sought to destroy the book!
And yet the good girl was not turned aside from
her holy purpose, but lured the perverse one into
the right way. In the end, Maddy listened with
deep interest while Florence read of the Saviour's
birth. Wise, loving, true-hearted girl! She is the
angel in our house, Madeline! Fail not to honor
the heavenly guest. She has begun right; let us
give her all possible aid, so that the angel may
triumph over the demon."


304
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
CHAPTER XXVIH.
CONCLUSION.
On the next day Adele Weir was taken by Mr.
Fleetwood and Florence to the house of Mrs. Elder.
The good lady, when she clearly understood the
case, and read something of the girl's character and
state of mind, did not hesitate about receiving her,
and Adele accepted the proffered home and refuge
with tearful gratitude.
Mr. Fleetwood and Florence returned together.
As they drew near the house of Mr. Dainty, they
saw a woman ascend the steps and ring the bell.
Before they came up, the door was opened and the
woman entered.
"Who is that?" asked Mr. Fleetwood.
"If my eyes do not deceive me," was the reply
of Florence, " it is the mother of Adele Weir."
"No! she would hardly dare venture here."
"A mother will dare much for her child," said*
Florence.
They moved forward quickly, and were soon at
the door.


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
805
"Who came in just now?"inquired Miss Harper,
in a low voice.
The waiter shook his head as he answered, "Don't
know, miss."
"What name did she give?"
"She asked for Mrs. Dainty, but would not send
up her name."
"Let us go into the parlor;" said Mr. Fleetwood,
in a whisper to Florence. Florence looked assent,
and the two passed in. A woman closely veiled sat
on one of the sofas.
"Mrs. Weir!" said Florence, speaking with blend-
ed surprise and indignation in the tones of her voice.
The veil was drawn aside, revealing the pale face
and glittering black eyes of Adele's mother. Her
thin lips were firmly set, and the expression of the
woman's countenance was resolute.
"I have come for my child!" she said, in a voico
that betrayed much agitation of mind.
"She is not here," Florence replied.
"She was brought here," said the woman, fixing
her piercing eyes upon the face of Miss Harper.
"She came here to restore to her mother the
child a wicked woman enticed away, and you
secreted, making yourself thereby a party to the
crime."
"And is here now?" said Mrs. Weir.
U 26*


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
307
prise, and a shade of alarm came over her pale
face.
"Mr. Dyer has nothing to do with the affairs of
my house," she said, quickly.
"He is known to have been a party in this wicked
transaction." Mr. Fleetwood spoke sternly and
positively. "And I shall get the police on his
track."
Mrs. Weir manifested still greater disturbance,
which encouraged the old gentleman to continue
the assault in that direction.
"See to it, then, both of you!" he continued.
"Such things are not to be done in the broad day
and passed over as of light account. You will all
of you find, before you are done with this nefarious
business, that you have gone a step too far. Mrs.
Jeckyl has escaped us; but some one must answer
to outraged justice. Florence!" Mr. Fleetwood
turned quickly to Miss Harper and said, "Tell the
waiter that I wish to see him," adding, in a lower
key, "it will hardly do to let this woman escape."
The closing words reached the ears for which they
were really intended, and Mrs. Weir, as Florence
turned to leave the parlor, moved toward the door
leading into the passage.
"Stay," said Mr. Fleetwood, speaking to Mrs.
Weir. "Don't go yet!"


308
THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
If he had said "Go," instead, she could not have
shown a greater willingness to depart.
"John!" Mr. Fleetwood called for the waiter,
in a loud, imperative voice. •
That was enough. Mrs. Weir's alarm was com-
plete, and she fled precipitately from the house.
A few days afterward Mr. Fleetwood visited the
neighborhood in which she had lived, but found her
house vacant, and "To Let" on the door.
The task before Miss Harper was no light one.
It required more than a single victory over the evil
spirits who had gained, through disorderly rites,
power in the child's mind, to dispossess them.
Scarcely a day passed in which Madeline did not
relapse into moody states or show a strangely per-
verse will. Patience, gentleness, loving-kindness,
all were brought into exercise; and sometimes the
contest would be long and painful. But always the
angel proved stronger than the demon, and the tried
spirit of the child arose, through divine aid, superior
to its foes.
As weeks and months glided onward, the old
tranquil states returned, and the gentlest and sweet-
est of all the children was restored to herself again,
—stood clothed and in her right mind. Mrs. Dainty,
from whose eyes the veil had fallen, now saw the
character of Florence in its true light. There had


310 THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
growing daily more and more like their guide, com-
panion, and friend. He had loved them from the
beginning for their childish innocence and affection,
but love took now a deeper tone, and gathered
strength and emotion from the beauty of goodness
that daily blossomed in their lives, the sweet presage
of fruit in sunny autumn.
Of Mrs. Jeckyl no more was seen or heard. She
vanished like an evil spirit when the sun-rays of
truth stream down through the rifted clouds of
error. The shadow of her presence had left a blight
on the earth; but warm sunshine and gentle dews
made the soil fruitful again, and good seeds, planted
by careful hands, soon shot up the tender blade and
covered the desert place with greenness. Mrs.
Weir came not again. The warning of conse-
quences had thoroughly alarmed her, and Adele
was permitted to remain under the wise, religious
care of Mrs. Elder. Very deeply had her young life
been disturbed by the disorderly influences to which
she had been subjected in her mother's house; and
there were times when the evil spirits who had gained
access to her mind found some of the old avenues
unguarded, and flowed in with their sphere of error,
invading even the outer citadel of natural and cor-
poreal life. But Mrs. Elder knew wherein lay the
power of exorcism. She knew that as she filled


THE ANGEL AND THE DEMON.
311
the mind of Adele full, as it were, of the precepts
and narratives of the Divine Word which was "in
the beginning," which was "with God," and which
"was God," she would succeed in casting out the
spirits who sought to rule her, and set her freed
soul upon the Rock of Eternal Ages. She did not
labor in vain.
And so good triumphed. The Angel was stronger
than the Demon. The human souls that came forth
from God, with God-given freedom of will, were
restored to the orderly life into which they were
created, free, as reason developed, to select, un-
biassed by the intrusion of disorderly spiritual
spheres, the paths of life in which they would move
through the world. Without such rational freedom,
spiritual regeneration is impossible; and any thing
that disturbs such freedom cannot have its origin in
fieaven. So we read the doctrine of life; and, so
reading it, we teach.
THE END.


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WHAT CAN WOMAN DO?
12mo. Over 300 pages, with Mezzotint Engraving, - - $1.00
Cloth, full gilt, 1.50
LEAVES FROM THE BOOK OF HUMAN LIFE.
Large 12mo. of 328 pp., with 30 Illustrations and Steel plate. $1.00
Cloth, full gilt, ----.--- 1.50
GOLDEN GRAINS FROM LIFE'S HARVEST FIELD.
j 2mo. Bound in muslin, with beautiful Mezzotint Engraving, $1.00
Cloth, full gilt, 1.50
Jet) fficjbte ir) q ggl- fiooft), JDI)$f J Sqto Jhcre.
12mo., $1.00
Cloth, full gilt, 1.50
THE WITHERED HEART.
12mo., with fine Mezzotint Frontispiece. Bound in cloth, - $1.00
Cloth, full gilt, 1.50
THE FIRESIDE ANGEL.
64 pp., 32mo., with an Engraving. Bound in muslin, gilt edges. $0.25
ggf Agenti wanted in every part of the United State* and Britith Province:
Address, J. W. BRADLEY, 48 N. 4th St., Philad'a.









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