CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY FROM "levers Cornell University Library PS 2727.06 1885 Opening a chestnut burr 3 1924 022 252 831 Cornell University Library The original of this book is in the Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924022252831 >«r Opening a Chestnut Burr. BY Rev. E. p. ROE, Author of ''Barriers Burned Away *' ''What Can She Do?'* ''Play and Profit in my Garden^' New and Revised Edition. As woman from the Garden of the Lord Led fallen man in sorrow, fear and shame, To where, unblest. he saw the burning swora Between lost Eden and the desert flame \ So'still she leads, and ^ough at times from good. She now supremely holds the sacred power. To win from deserts where the exiles brood. And lead them back within their ancient dower. NEW YORK DODD, MEAD & COMPANY Publishers : or Congress, 1n the yeir 1874, by Entered according to Act DODD & MEAD, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington, Copyright, 1884, by Dodd, Mead & Company, Copyrighti 1885, by Dodd, Mead Cl CoMpAinr. ^Ms fjcr^li AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED MY WIFE. PREFACE. TN sending this, my fourth venture, out upon the -^ uncertain waters of public opinion, I shall say but few words of preface. In the past I have re- ceived considerable well-deserved criticism from the gentlemen of the caustic pen, but so far from having any hard feeling toward them, I have rather won- dered that they found so much to say that was favorable. How they will judge this simple October story (if they think it worth while to judge it at all) I leave to the future, and turn to those for whom the book was really written. In fancy I see them around the glowing hearth in quiet homes, such as I have tried to describe in the following pages, and hope that this new-comer will be welcomed for the sake of those that preceded it. Possibly it may make friends of its own. From widely separated parts of the country, and from almost every class, I have received many, and cordial assurances that my former books were sources not only of pleasure, but also of help and benefit, and I am deeply grateful for the privilege of unob- trusively entering so many households, and saying 8 PREFACE. words on that subject which is inseparable from hap- piness in both worlds. I think the purpose of the book will become ap- parent to the reader. The incidents and characters are mainly imaginary. Observation has shown me that there are many in the world, like my hero, whose condition can be illus- trated by the following lines : Were some great ship all out of stores, When half-way o'er the sea. Fit emblem of too many lives, Such vessel doomed would be. Must there not be something fatally wrong in that scheme of life which finds an heir of eternity weary, listless, discouraged, while yet in the dawning of existence ? It is not in perishing things, merely, to give back the lost zest. But a glad zest and hope- fulness might be inspired even in the most jaded and ennui-cursed, were there in our homes such simple, truthful natures as that of my heroine ; and in the sphere of quiet homes — not elsewhere — I believe that woman can best rule and save the world. Highland Falls, N. Y., September, 1874. . CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. Page A Hero but not Heroic 13 CHAPTER II. Opening a Chestnut Burr 31 CHAPTER III. Morbid Brooding 46 CHAPTER IV. How Miss Walton Managed People 53 CHAPTER V. Was it an Accident? 61 CHAPTER VI. Unexpected Chestnut Burrs 69 CHAPTER VII. A Conspiracy 78 10 CONTENTS. CHAPTER VIII. Page Witchcraft 9' CHAPTER IX. Miss Walton recommends a Hobby loi CHAPTER X. A Plot against Miss Walton I07 CHAPTER XI. A Drinking Song at a Prayer-Meeting ir6 CHAPTER XII. Foiled in one Direction 125 CHAPTER XIII. Interpreting Chestnut Burrs 137 CHAPTER XIV. A Well-Meanin' Man 154 CHAPTER XV. Miss Walton's Dream 165 CHAPTER XVI. An Accident in the Mountains 186 CHAPTER XVII, Promise or Die ; igg CONTENTS. II CHAPTER XVIII. Page In the Depths 217 CHAPTER XIX. Miss Walton made of Different Clay from Others.... 231 CHAPTER XX. Miss Walton made of Ordinary Clay 252 CHAPTER XXI. Passion and Penitence 273 CHAPTER XXII. Not a Heroine but a Woman 288 CHAPTER XXIII. Gregory's Final Conclusion 304 CHAPTER XXIV. The Worm-infested Chestnut — Gregory tells the Worst 316 CHAPTER XXV. The Old Home in Danger — Gregory Retrieves Himself. . 340 CHAPTER XXVI. Changes in Gregory 362 CHAPTER XXVII. Pleading for Life and Love 374 la CONTENTS. CHAPTER XXVIII. Page What a Lover could do 388 CHAPTER XXIX. Deepening Shadows 407 CHAPTER XXX. Kept from the Evil 428 CHAPTER XXXI. Live ! Live ! Annie's Appeal • • 442 CHAPTER XXXII. At Sea— A Mysterious Passenger 475 CHAPTER XXXIIL A Collision at Sea — ^What a Christian could do 491 CHAPTER XXXIV. Unmasked 511 CHAPTER XXXV. A Chestnut Burr and A Home 533 OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. CHAPTER 1. A HERO, BUT NOT HEROIC. QHALL I ever be strong in mind or body again?" O said Walter Gregory, with irritation, as he entered a crowded Broadway omnibus. The person thus querying so despairingly with him- self was a man not far from thirty years of age, but the lines of care were furrowed so deeply on his handsome face, that dismal, lowering morning, the first of October, that he seemed much older. Hav- ing wedged himself in between two burly forms that suggested thrift down town and good cheer on the avenue, he appears meagre and shrunken in contrast.- He is tall and thin. His face is white and drawn, instead of being ruddy with health's rich, warm blood. There is scarcely anything remaining to remind one of the period of youth, so recently vanished ; neither is there the dignity, nor the consciousness of strength, that should come with maturer years. His heavy, light-colored mustache and pallid face gave him the aspect of a blas^ man of the world who had 14 OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. exhausted himself and life at an age when wisely directed manhood should be just entering on its richest pleasures. And such an opinion of him, with some hopeful exceptions and indications, would be correct. The expression of irritation and self-disgust still remain- ing on his face as the stage rumbles down town is a hopeful sign. His soul at least is not surrounded by a Chinese wall of conceit. However perverted his nature may be, it is not a shallow one, and he evidently has a painful sense of the wrongs com- mitted against it. Though his square jaw and the curve of his lip indicate firmness, one could not look upon his contracted brow and half-despairing expres- sion, as he sits oblivious of all surroundings, without thinking of a ship drifting helplessly and in distress. There are encouraging possibilities in the fact that from those windows of the soul, his eyes, a troubled rather than an evil spirit looks out. A close ob- server would see at a glance that he was not a good man, but he might also note that he was not con- tent with being a bad one. There was little .of the rigid pride and sinister hardness or the conceit often seen on the faces of men of the world who have spent years in spoiling their manhood ; and the sensual phase of coarse dissipation was quite want- ing. You will find in artificial metropolitan society many men so emasculated that they are quite vain of being blas^, — fools that with conscious superiority smile disdainfully at those still possessing simple. A HERO, BUT NOT HEROIC. IS wholesome tastes for things which they in their indescribable accent characterize as a " bore." But Walter Gregory looked like one who had early found the dregs of evil life very bitter, and his face was like that of nature when smitten with untimely frosts. He reached his ofifice at last, and wearily sat down to the routine work at his desk. Instead of the intent and interested look with which a young and healthy man would naturally enter on his business, he showed rather a dogged resolution to work whether he felt like it or not, and with harsh disre- gard of his physical weakness. The world will never cease witnessing the wrongs that men commit against each other ; but perhaps if the wrongs and cruelties that people inflict on themselves could be summed up the painful aggregate would be much larger. As Gregory sat bending over his writing, rather from weakness than from a stooping habit, his senior partner came in, and was evidently struck by the appearance of feebleness on the part of the young man. The unpleasant impression haunted him, for having looked over his letters he came out of his private office and again glanced uneasily at the color- less face, which gave evidence that only sheer force of will was spurring a failing hand and brain to their tasks. At last Mr. Burnett came and laid his hand on his junior partner's shoulder, saying, kindly, " Come, Gregory, drop your work. You are ill. The strain l6 OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. upon you has been too long and severe. The worst is over now, and we are going to pull through better than I expected. Don't take the matter so bitterly to heart. I admit myself that the operation prom- ised well at first. You were misled, and so were we all, by downright deception. That the swindle was imposed on us through you was more your misfor- tune than your fault, and it will make you a keener business man in the future. You have worked like a galley-slave all summer to retrieve matters,' and have taken no vacation at all. You must take one now immediately, or you will break down altogether. Go off to the woods ; fish, hunt, follow your fancies ; and the bracing October air will make a new man of you." " I thank you very much," Gregory began. " I suppose I do need rest. In a few days, however, I can leave better — " " No," interrupted Mr. Burnett, with hearty em- phasis ; " drop everything. As soon as you finish that letter, be off. Don't show your face here again till November." " I thank you foryour interest in me," said Gregory, rising. " Indeed, I believe it would be good econ- omy, for if I don't feel better soon I shall be of no use here or anywhere else." " That's it," said old Mr. Burnett, kindly. " Sick and blue, they go together. TMow be off to the woods, and send me some game. I won't inquire too sharply whether you brought if down with lead or silver." A HERO, BUT NOT HEROIC. 1/ Gregory soon left the office, and made his arrange- ments to start on his trip early the next morning. His purpos? was to make a brief visit to the home of his boyhood and then to go wherever a vagrant fancy might lead. The ancestral place was no longer in his family, though he was spared the pain of seeing it in the hands of strangers. It had been purchased a few years since by an old and very dear friend of his deceased father, — a gentleman named Walton. It had so happened that Gregory had rarely met his father's friend, who had been engaged in business at the West, and of his family he knew little more than that there were two daughters, — one who had mar- ried a Southern gentleman, and the other, much younger, living with her father. Gregory had been much abroad as the European agent of his house, and it was during such absence that Mr. Walton had retired from business and purchased the old Gregory homestead. The young man felt sure, however, that though a comparative stranger himself, he would, foi" his father's sake, be a welcome visitor at the ■ home of his childhood. At any rate he determined to test the matter, for the moment he found himself at liberty he felt a strange and an eager longing to revisit the scenes of the happiest portion of his life. He had meant to pay such a visit in the previ- ous spring, soon after his arrival from Europe, when his elation at being made partner in the house which he so long^ had served as clerk reached almost the point of happiness. iB OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. Among those who had welcomed him back was a man a little older than himself, who, in his absence, had become known as a successful operator in Wall Street. They had been intimate before Gregory- went abroad, and the friendship was renewed at once. Gregory prided himself on his knowledge of the world, and was not by nature inclined to trust hastily ; and yet he did place implicit confidence in Mr. Hunting, regarding him as a better man than himself. Hunting was an active member of a church, and his name figured on several charities, while Greg- ory had almost ceased to attend any place of worship, and spent his money selfishly upon himself, or foolishly upon others, giving only as prompted by impulse. Indeed, his friend had occasionally ven- tured to remonstrate with him against his tenden- cies to dissipation, saying that a young man of his prospects should not damage them for the sake of passing gratification. Gregory felt the force of these words, for he was exceedingly ambitious, and bent upon accumulating wealth and at the same time making a brilliant figure in business circles. In addition to the ordinary motives which would naturally lead him to desire such success he wa» incited by a secret one more powerful than all the others combined. Before going abroad, when but a clerk, he had been the favored suitor of a beautiful and accomplished girl. Indeed the understanding between them almost amounted to an engagement, and he revelled in e passionate, romantic attachment at an age whe; A HERO, BUT NOT HEROIC. 19 the blood is hot, the heart enthusiastic, and when not a particle of worldly cynicism and adverse experience had taught him to moderate his rose-hued anticipations. She seemed the embodiment of good- ness, as well as beauty and grace, for did she not repress his tendencies to be a little fast ? Did she not, with more than sisterly solicitude, counsel him to shun certain florid youth whose premature blos- soming indicated that they might early run to seed? and did he not, in consequence, cut Guy Bonner, the jolliest fellow he had ever known ? Indeed, more than all, had she not ventured to talk religion to him, so that for a time he had regarded himself as in a very " hopeful franie of mind," and had been inclined to take a mission-class in the same school with herself ? How lovely and angelic she had once appeared, stooping in elegant costume from her social height to the little ragamuffins of the street that sat gaping around her! As he gazed adoringly, while waiting to be her escort home, his young heart had swelled with the impulse to be good and noble also. But one day she caused him to drop out of his roseate clouds. With much sweetness and resig- nation, and with appropriate sighs, she said that " it was her painful duty to tell him that their intimacy must cease, — that she had received an offer from Mr. Grobb, and that her parents, and indeed all her friends, had urged her to accept him. She had been led to feel that they with their riper experience and knowledge of life knew what was best for her, and therefore she had yielded zo OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. to their wishes and accepted the offer." She was beginning to add, in a sentimental tone, that "had she only followed the impulses of her heart " — when Gregory, at first too stunned and bewildered to speak, recovered his senses and interrupted with, " Please don't speak of your heart. Miss Bently. Why mention so small a matter? Go on with your little transaction by all means. I am a business man myself, and can readily understand your motives ;" and he turned on his heel and strode from the room, leaving Miss Bently ill at ease. The young man's first expression of having re- ceived, as it were, a staggering blow, and then his bitter satire, made an impression on her cotton-and- wool nature, and for a time her proceedings with Mr. Grobb did not wear the aspect in which they had been presented by her friends. But her little world so confidently and continually reiterated the statement that she was making a " splendid match" that her qualms vanished, and she felt that what all asserted must be true, and so entered on the gor- geous preparations as if the wedding were all and the man nothing. It is the custom to satirize or bitterly denounce such girls, but perhaps they are rather to be pitied. They are the natural products of artificial society, wherein wealth, show, and the social eminence which is based on dress and establishment are held out as the prizes of a woman's existence. The only won- der is that so much heart and truth assert themselves among those who all their life have seen wealth A HERO, BUT NOT HEROIC. e\ practically worshipped, and worth, ungilded, gener- ally ignored. From ultra-fashionable circles a girl is often seen developing into the noblest woman- hood ; while narrow, mercenary natures are often found where far better things might have been ex- pected. If such girls as Miss Bently could only be kept in quiet obscurity, like a bale of merchandise, till wanted, it would not be so bad ; but some of them are such brilliant belles and incorrigible coquettes that they are like certain Wall Street specu- lators who threaten to " break the street " in making their own fortunes. Some natures can receive a fair lady's refusal with a good-natured shrug, as merely the result of a bad venture, and hope for better luck next time ; but to a greater number this is impossible, especially if th^y are played with and deceived. Walter Gregory pre-eminently belonged to the latter class. In early life he had breathed the very atmos- phere of truth, and his tendency to sincerity ever remained the best element of his character. His was one of those fine-fibred natures most susceptible to injury. Up to this time his indiscretions had only been those of foolish, thoughtless youth, while aim- ing at the standard of manliness and style in vogue among his city companions. High-spirited young fellows, not early braced by principle, must pass through this phase as in babyhood they cut their teeth. If there is true mettle in them, and they are not perverted by exceptionally bad influences, ^- they outgrow the idea that to be fast and fool- 22 OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. ish is to be men as naturally as they do theif roundabouts. What a man does is often not so important as the state of the heart that prompts the act. In common parlance, Walter was as good-hearted a fellow as ever breathed. Indeed, he was really inclined to noble enthusiasms. If Miss Bently had been what he imagined her, she might have led him swiftly arid surely into true manhood ; but she was only an adept at pretty seem- ing with him, and when Mr. Grobb offered her his vast wealth, with himself as the only incumbrance, she acted promptly and characteristically. But perhaps it can be safely said that in no den of iniquity in the city could Walter Gregory have re- ceived such moral injury as poisoned his very soul when, in Mr. Bently's elegant and respectable parlor, the " angel " he worshipped " explained how she was situated," and from a " sense of duty " stated her purpose to yield to the wishes of her friends. Greg- ory had often seen Mr. Grobb, but had given him no thought, supposing him some elderly relative of the family. That this was the accepted suitor of the girl who had, with tender, meaning glances^ sung for him sentimental ballads, who had sweetly talked to him of religion and mission work, seemed a mon- strous perversion. Call it unjust, unreasonable, if you will, yet it was the most natural thing in the world for one possessing his sensitive, intense nature to pass into harsh, bitter cynicism, and to regard Miss Bently as a typical girl of the period. A HERO, BUT NOT HEROIC. 23 A young man is far on the road to evil when he loses faith in woman. During the formative period of character she is, of earthly influences, the most potent in making or marring him. A kind refusal, where no false encouragement has been given, often does a man good, and leaves his faith intact ; but an experience similar to that of young Gregory is like putting into a fountain that which may stain and imbitter the waters of the stream in all its length. At the early age of twenty-two he became what is usually understood by the phrase " a man of the world." Still his moral nature could not sink into the depths without many a bitter outcry against its wrongs. It was with no slight effort that he drowned the memory of his early home and its good influ- ences. During the first two or three years he occa~ sionally had periods of passionate remorse, and made spasmodic efforts toward better things. But they were made in human strength, and in view of the penalties of evil, rather than because he was enam- ored of the right. Some special temptation would soon sweep him away into the old life, and thus, be- cause of his broken promises and repeated failures, he at last lost faith in himself also, and lacked that self- respect without which no man can cope successfully with his evil nature and an evil world. ' Living in a boarding-house, with none of the restraints and purifying influences of a good home, he formed intimacies with brilliant but unscrupulous young men. The theatre became his church, and at last the code of his fast, fashionable set was that 24- OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. which governed his life. He avoided gross, vulgar dissipation, both because his nature revolted at it, and also on account of his purpose to permit noth- ing to interfere with his prospects of advancement in business. He meant to show Miss Bently that she had made a bad business speculation after all. Thus ambition became the controlling element in his character ; and he might have had a worse one. Moreover, in all his moral debasement he never lost a decided tendency toward truthfulness and honesty. He would have starved rather than touch anything that did not belong to him, nor would he allow him- self to deceive in matters of business, and it was upon these points that he specially prided himself. Gregory's unusual business ability, coupled with his knowledge of French and German, led to his being sent abroad as agent of his firm. Five years of life in the materialistic and sceptical atmosphere of continental cities confirmed the evil tendencies which were only too well developed before he left his own land. He became what so many appear to be in our day, a practical materialist and athe- ist. Present life and surroundings, present profit and pleasure, were all in all. He ceased to recog- nize the existence of a soul within himself having distinct needs and interests. His thoughts centred wholly in the comfort and pleasures of the day and in that which would advance his ambitious schemes. His scepticism was not intellectual and in reference to the Bible and its teachings, but practical and in reference to humanity itself. He believed that with A HERO, BUT NOT HEROIC. 25 few exceptions men and women lived for their own profit and pleasure, and tliat religion and creeds were matters of custom and fashion, or an accident of birth. Only the reverence in whicli religion had been held in his early home kept him from sharing fully in the contempt which the gentlemen he met abroad seemed to have for it. He could not alto- gether despise his mother's faith, but he regarded her as a gentle enthusiast haunted by sacred tradi- tions. The companionships which he had formed led him to believe that unless influenced by some interested motive a liberal-minded man of the world must of necessity outgrow these things. With the self-deception of his kind, he thought he was broad and liberal in his views, when in reality he had lost all distinction between truth and error, and was narrowing his mind down to things only. Jew or Gentile, Christian or Pagan, it was becoming all one to him. Men changed their creeds and religions with other fashions, but all looked after what they believed to be the main chance, and he proposed to do the same. As time passed on, however, he began to admit to himself that it was strange that in making all things bend to his pleasure he did not secure more. He wearied of certain things. Stronger excitements were needed to spur his jaded senses. His bets, his stakes at cards grew heavier, his pleasures more gross, till a delicate organization so revolted at its wrongs and so chastised him for excess that he was deterred from self-gratificfition in that direction. 26 OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. Some men's bodies are a "means of grace" to them. Coarse dissipation is a physical impossibility, or swift suicide in a very painful form. Young Gregory found that only in the excitements of the mind could he hope to find continued enjoyment. His ambition to accumulate wealth and become a brilliant business man most accorded with his tastes and training, and on these objects he gradually con- centrated all his energies, seeking only in club-rooms and places of fashionable resort recreation from the strain of business. He recognized that the best way to advance his own interests was to serve his employers well ; and this h-e did so effectually that at last he was made a partner in the business, and, with a sense of some- thing more like pleasure than he had known for a long time, returned to New York and entered upon his new duties. As we have said, among those who warmly greeted and congratulated him, was Mr. Hunting. They gradually came to spend much time together, and business and money-getting were their favorite themes. Gregory saw that his friend was as keen on the track of fortune as himself, and that he had apparently been much more successful. Mr. Hunt- ing intimated that after one reached the charmed inner circle Wall Street was a perfect Eldorado, and seemed to take pains to drop occasional suggestions as to how an investment shrewdly made by one with his favored point of observation often secured in a day a larger return than a year of plodding business. A HERO, BUT NOT HEROIC. 27 These remarks were not lost on Gregory, and the wish became very strong that he might share in some of the splendid " hits " by which his friend was accumulating so rapidly. Usually Mr. Hunting was very quiet and self- possessed, but one evening in May he came into Gregory's rooms in a manner indicating not a little excitement and elation. " Gregory ! " he exclaimed, " I am going to make my fortune." " Make your fortune ! You are as rich as Croesus now." " The past will be as nothing. I've struck a mine rather than a vein." " It's a pitysome of your friends could not share in your luck." " Well, a few can. This is so large, and such a good thing, that I have concluded to let a few intimates go in with me. Only all must keep very quiet about it ; " and he proposed an operation that seemed certain of success as he explained it. Gregory concluded to put into it nearly all he had independent of his investment in the firm, and also obtained permission to interest his partners, and to procure an interview between them and Mr. Hunting. The scheme looked so very plausible that they were drawn into it also ; but Mr. Burnett took Gregory aside and said : " After all, we must place. a great deal of confidence in Mr. Hunting's word in this matter. Are you satisfied that we can safely do so ? " 28 OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. "I would stake my life on his word in this case," said Gregory, eagerly, " and I pledge all I have put in the firm on his truth." This was the last flicker of his old enthusiasm and trust in anybody or anything, including himself. With almost the skill of genius Mr. Hunting adroitly, within the limits of the law, swindled them all, and made a vast profit out of their losses. The transaction was not generally known, but even some o^ the hardened gamblers of the street said " it was too bad." But the bank-ofificers with whom Burnett & Co. did business knew about it, and if it had not been for their leniency and aid the firm would have failed. As it was, it required a struggle of months to regain the solid ground of safety. At first the firm was suspicious of Gregory, and disposed to blame him very much. But when he proved to them that he had lost his private means by Hunting's treachery, and insisted on making over to them all his right and title to the property he had invested with them, they saw that he was no con- federate of the swindler, but that he had suffered more than any of them. He had, indeed. He had lost his ambition. The large sum of money that was to be the basis of the immense fortune he had hoped to amass was gone. He had greatly prided himself on his business ability, but had signalized his entrance on his new and responsible position by being overreached and swindled in a transaction that had impoverished A HERO. BUT NOT HEROIC. 29 himself and almost ruined his partners. He grew very misanthropic, and was quite as bitter against himself as against others. In his estimation people were either cloaking their evil or had not been tempted, and he felt after Hunting dropped the mask that he would never trust any one again. It may be said, all this is very unreasonable. Yes, it is ; but then people will judge the world by their own experience of it, and some natures are more easily warped by wrong than others. No logic can cope with feeling and prejudice. Because of his own misguided life and the wrong he had received from others, Walter Gregory was no more able to form a correct estimate of society than one color- blind is to judge of the tints of flowers. And yet he belonged to that class who claim pre-eminently to know the world. Because he thought he knew it so well he hated and despised it, and himself as part of it. The months that followed his great and sudden downfall dragged their slow length along. He worked early and late, without thought of sparing himself. If he could only see what the iirm had lost through him made goo'd, he did not care what became of himself. Why should he ? There was little in the present to interest him, and the future looked, in his depressed, morbid state, as monotonous and barren as the sands of a desert. Seemingly, he had exhausted life, and it had lost all zest for him. But while his power to enjoy had gone, not so his 30 OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. power to suffer. His conscience was uneasy, and told him in a vague way that something was wrong. Reason, or, more correctly speaking, instinct, con- demned his life as a wretched blunder. He had lived for his own enjoyment, and now, when but half through life, what was there for him to enjoy ? As in increasing weakness he dragged himself to the office on a sultry September day, the thought occurred to him that the end was nearer than he expected. " Let it come," he said, bitterly. " Why should I live ? " The thought of his early home recurred to him with increasing frequency, and he had a growing desire to visit it before his strength failed utterly. Therefore it was with a certain melancholy pleasure that he found himself at liberty, through the kind- ness of his partner, to make this visit, and at the season, too, when his boyish memories of the place, like the foliage, would be most varied and vivid. CHAPTER II. OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. IF the reader could imagine a man visiting his own grave, he might obtain some idea of Walter Gregory's feelings as he took the boat which would land him not far from his early home. And yet, so different was he from the boy who had left that home fifteen years before, that it was almost the same as if he were visiting the grave of a brother who had died in youth. Though the day was mild, a fresh, bracing wind blew from the west. Shielding himself from this on the after-deck, he half reclined, on account of his weakness, in a position from which he could see the shores and passing vessels upon the river. The swift gliding motion, the beautiful and familiar scenery, the sense of freedom from routine work, and the crisp, pure air, that seemed like a delicate wine, all combined to form a mystic lever that began to lift his heart out of the depths of despondency. A storm had passed away, leaving not a trace. The October sun shone in undimmed splendor, and all nature appeared to rejoice in its light. The waves with their silver crests seemed chasing one another in mad glee. The sailing vessels, as they tacked to 32 OPENING A CHESTNUT BUHR. and fro across the river under the stiff western breeze, made the water foam about their blunt prows, and the white-winged gulls wheeled in grace- ful circles overhead. There was a sense of move- ment and life that was contagious. Gregory's dull eyes kindled with something like interest, and then he thought : " The storm lowered over these sunny shores yesterday. The gloom of night rested upon these waters but a few hours since. Why is it that nature can smile and be glad the moment the shadow passes and I cannot ? Is there no sunlight for the soul ? I seem as if entering a cave, that grows colder and darker at every step, and no gleam shines at the farther end, indicating that I may pass through it and out into the light again." Thus letting his fancy wander at will, at times half-dreaming and half-waking, he passed the hours that elapsed before the boat touched at a point in the Highlands of the Hudson, his destination. Making a better dinner than he had enjoyed for a long time, and feeling stronger than for weeks before, he started for the place that now, of all the world, had for him the greatest attraction. There was no marked change in the foliage as yet, but only a deepening of color, like a flush on the cheek of beauty. As he was driving along the familiar road, farm-house and grove, and even tree, rock, and thicket, began to greet him as with the faces of old friends. At last he saw, nestling in a wild, pictur- esque valley, the quaint outline of his former home. His heart yearned toward it, and he felt that next to OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. H his mother's face no other object could be so wel- come. " Slower, please," he said to the driver. Though his eyes were moist, and at times dim with tears, not a feature in the scene escaped him. When near the gateway he sprung out with a lightness that he would not have believed possible the day before, and said, " Come for me at five." For a little time he stood leaning on the gate. Two children were playing on the lawn, and it almost seemed to him that the elder, a boy of about ten years, might be himself, and he a passing stran- ger, who had merely stopped to look at the pretty scene. " Oh that I were a boy like that one there ! Oh that I were here again as of old ! " he sighed. " How unchanged it all is, and I so changed ! It seems as if the past were mocking me. That must be I there playing with my little sister. Mother must be sew- ing in her cheery south room, and father surely is taking his after-dinner nap in the library. Can it be that they are all dead save me ? and that this is but a beautiful mirage ? " He felt that he could not meet any one until he became more composed, and so passed on up the valley. Before turning away he noticed that a lady came out at the front door. The children joined her, and they started for a walk. Looking wistfully on either side, Gregory soon came to a point where the orchard extended to the road. A well-remembered fall pippin tree hung its 34 OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. laden boughs over the fence, and the fruit looked so ripe and golden in the slanting rays of October sun- light that he determined to try one of the apples and see if it tasted as of old. As he climbed upon the wall a loose stone fell clattering down and rolled into the road. He did not notice this, but an old man dozing in the porch of a little house opposite did. As Gregory reached up his cane to detach from its spray a great, yellow-cheeked fellow, his hand was arrested, and he was almost startled ofl his perch by such a volley of oaths as shocked even his hardened ears. Turning gingerly around so as not to lose his footing, he faced this masked battery that had opened so unexpectedly upon him, and saw a white-haired old man balancing himself on one crutch and brand- ishing the other at him. " Stop knockin' down that wall and fillin' the road with stuns, you ," shouted the venerable man, in tones that indicated anything but the calmness of age. "Let John Walton's apples alone, you thief. What do you mean- by robbin' in broad daylight, right under a man's nose ? " Gregory saw that he had a character to deal with, and, to divert his mind from thoughts that were growing too painful, determined to draw the old man out ; so he said, " Is not taking things so openly a rather honest way of robbing? " " Git down, I tell yer," cried the guardian of the orchard. " Suppose 'tis, it's robbin' arter all. So now move on, and none of yer cussed impudence." " But you call them John Walton's apples," said OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. 35 Gregory, eating one with provoking coolness. " What have you got to do with them ? and why should you care?" " Now look here, stranger, you're an infernal mean cuss to ask such questions. Ain't John Walton my neighbor ? and a good neighbor, too ? D'ye suppose a well-meanin' man like myself would stand by and see a neighbor robbed? and of all others, John Walton ? Don't you know that robbin' a good man brings bad luck, you thunderin' fool ? " " But I've always had bad luck, so I needn't stop on that account," retorted Gregory, from the fence. " I believe it, and you allers will," vociferated the old man, "and I'll tell yer why. I know from the cut of yer jib that yer've allers been eatin' forbidden fruit. If yer lived now a good square life like 'Squire Walton and me, you'd have no reason to complain of yer luck. If I could get a clip at yer with this crutch I'd give yer suthin' else to complain of. If yer had any decency yer wouldn't stand there a jibin' at a lame old man." Gregory took off his hat with a polite bow and said : " I beg your pardon ; I was under the impress- ion that you were doing the ' cussing.' I shall come and see you soon, for somehow it does me good to have you swear at me. I only wish I had as good a friend in the world as Mr. Walton has in you." With these words he sprung from the fence on the orchard side, and made his way to the hill behind the Walton residence, leaving the old man mumbling and muttering in a very profane manner. 36 OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. "Like enough it was somebody visitin' at the Waltons', and I've made a fool of myself after all. What's worse, that poor little Miss Eulie will hear I've been swearin' agin, and there'll be another awful prayin' time. What a cussed old fool I be, to promise to quit swearin' ! I know I can't. What's the good o' stoppin' ? It's inside, and might as well come out. The Lord knows I don't mean no disre- spect to Him. It's only one of my ways. He knows well enough that I'm a good neighbor, and what's the harm in a httle cussin'?" and so the strange old man talked on to himself in the intervals between long pulls at his pipe. By the time Gregory reached the top of the hill his Strength was quite exhausted, and, panting, he sat down on the sunny side of a thicket of cedars, for the late afternoon was growing chilly. Beneath htm lay the one oasis in a desert world. With an indescribable blending of pleasure and pain, he found himself tracing with his eye every well- remembered path, and marking every familiar object. Not a breath of air was stirring, and it would seem that Nature was seeking to impart to his perturbed spirit, full of the restless movement of city life and the inevitable disquiet of sin, something of her own calmness and peace. The only sounds he heard seemed a part of nature's silence, — the tinkle of cow- bells, the slumberous monotone of water as it fell over the dam, the grating notes of a katydid, rendered hoarse by recent cool nights, in a shady ravine near by, and a black cricket chirping at the edge of the rock OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. 37 on which he sat — these were all. And yet the sounds, though not heard for years, seemed as familiar as the mother's lullaby that puts a child to sleep, and a delicious sense of restfulness stole into his heart. The world in which he had so greatly sinned and suffered might be another planet, it seemed so far away. Could it be that in a few short hours he had escaped out of the hurry and grind of New York into this sheltered nook? Why ha;d he not come before? Here was the remedy for soul and body, if any existed. Not a person was visible on the place, and it seemed that it might thus have been awaiting him in all his absence, and that now he had only to go and take possession. " So our home in heaven awaits us, mother used to say," he thought, " while we are such willing exiles from it. I would give all the world to believe as she did." He found that the place so inseparably associated with his mother brought back her teachings, which he had so often tried to forget. " I wish I might bury myself here, away from the world," he muttered, " for it has only cheated and lied to me from first to last. Everything deceived me, and turned out differently from what I expected. These loved old scenes are true and unchanged, and smile upon me now as when I was here a happy boy. Would to heaven I might never leave them again ! " He was startled out of his revery by the sharp bark of a squirrel that ran chattering and whisking 38 OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. its tail in great excitement from limb to limb in a clump of chestnuts near. The crackling of a twig betrayed to Gregory the cause of. its alarm, for through an opening in the thicket he saw the lady who had started out for a walk with the children while he was leaning on the front gate. Shrinking farther behind the cedars he proposed to reconnoitre a little before making himself known. He observed that she was attired in a dark, close- fitting costume suitable for rambling among the hills. At first he thought that she was pretty, and then that she was not. His quick, critical eye detected that her features were not regular, that her profile was not classic. It was only the rich glow of exercise and the jaunty gypsy hat that had given the first impression of something like beauty. In her right hand, which was ungloved, she daintily held, by its short stem, a chestnut burr which the squirrel in its alarm had dropped, and now, in its own shrill vernacular, was scolding about so vociferously. She was glancing around forsome means to breakit open, and Gregory had scarcely time to notice her fine dark eyes, when, as if remembering the rock on which he had been sitting, she advanced toward him with a step so quick and elastic that he envied her vigor. Further concealment was now impossible. There- fore with easy politeness he stepped forward and said, " Let me open the burr for you. Miss Walton." She started violently at the sound of his voice, and for a moment reminded him of a frightened bird on the eve of flight. OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. 39 " Pardon me for so alarming you," he hastened to say, " and also pardon a seeming stranger for address- ing you informally. My name may not be unknown to you, although I am in person. It is Walter Gregory." She had been so startled that she could not imme- diately recover herself, and still stood regarding him doubtfully, although with manner more assured. " Come," said he, smiling and advancing toward her with the quiet assurance of a society man. " Let me open the burr for you, and you shall take its con- tents in confirmation of what I say. If I find sound chestnuts in it, let them be a token that I am not misrepresenting myself. If my test fails, then you may justly ask for better credentials." Half smiling, and quite satisfied from his words and appearance in advance, she extended the burr toward him. But as she did so it parted from the stem, and would have fallen to the ground had he not, with his ungloved hand, caught the prickly thing. His hand was as white and soft as hers, and the sharp spines stung him sorely, yet he permitted no sign of pain to appear upon his face. " Ah ! " exclaimed Miss Walton, " I fear it hurt you." He looked up humorously and said, "An augury is a solemn affair, and no disrespect must be allowed to nature's oracle, which in this case is a chestnut burr;" and he speedily opened it. " There ! " he said, triumphantly, " what more could you ask? Here are two solid, plump chest- 40 OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. nuts, with only a false, empty form of shell between them. And here, like the solid nuts, are two people entitled to each other's acquaintance, with only the false formality of an introduction, like the empty shell, keeping them apart. Since no mutual friend is present to introduce us, has not Nature taken upon herself the office through this chestnut burr ? But perhaps I should further Nature's efforts by giving you my card." As Miss Walton regained composure, she soon proved to Gregory that she was not merely a shy country girl. At the close of his rather long and fanciful speech she said, genially, extending her hand : " My love for Nature is unbounded, Mr. Gregory, and the introduction you have so happily obtained from her weighs more with me than any other that you could have had. Let me welcome you to your own home, as it were. But see, your hand is bleed- ing, where the burr pricked you. Is this an omen, also ? If our first meeting brings bloody wounds, I fear you will shun further acquaintance." There was a spice of bitterness in Gregory's laugh, as he said: " People don't often die of such wounds. But it is a little odd that in taking your hand I should stain it with my blood. I am inclined to drop the burr after all, and base all my claims on my practical visiting card. You may come to look upon the burr as a warning, rather than an introduction, and order me off the premises." "It was an omen of your choice," replied Miss Walton, laughing. " You have more to fear from it OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. 41 than I. If you will venture to stay you shall be most welcome. Indeed, it almost seems that you have a better right here than we, and your name has been so often heard that you are no stranger. I know father will be very glad to see you, for he often speaks of you, and wonders if you are like his old friend, the dearest one, I think, he ever had. How long have you been here ? " "Well, I have been wandering about the place much of the afternoon." •' I need not ask you why you did not come in at once," she said, gently. " Seeing your old home after so long an absence is like meeting some dear friend. One naturally wishes to be alone for a time. But now I hope you will go home with me." He was surprised at her delicate appreciation of his feelings, and gave her a quick pleased look, say- ing : " Nature has taught you to be a goo«i inter- preter, Miss Walton. You are right. The memories of the old place were a little too much for me at first, and I did not know that those whom I met would appreciate my feelings so dehcately." The two children now appeared, running around the brow of the hill, the boy calling in great excite- ment : " Aunt Annie, oh ! Aunt Annie, we've found a squirrel-hole. We chased him into it. Can't Susie sit by the hole and keep him in, while I go for a spade to dig him out ? " Then they saw the unlooked-for stranger, who at once rivalled the squirrel-hole in interest, and with slower steps, and curious glances, they approached. 42 OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. " These are my sister's children," said Miss Walton, simply. Gregory kindly took the boy by the hand, and kissed the little girl, who looked half-frightened and balf-pleased, as a very little maiden should, while she rubbed the cheek that his mustache had tickled. " Do you think we can get the squirrel. Aunt Annie ? " again asked the boy. " Do you think it would be right, Johnny, if you could ? " she asked. " Suppose you were the squirrel in the hole, and one big monster, like Susie here, should sit by the door, and you heard another big monster say, 'Wait till I get something to tear open his house with.' How would you feel ? " " I won't keep the poor little squirrel in his hole," said sympathetic Susie. But the boy's brow contracted, and he said, sternly : " Squirrels are nothing but robbers, and their holes are robbers' dens. They take half our nuts every year." Miss Walton looked significantly at Gregory, and laughed, saying, "There it is, you see, man and woman." A momentary shadow crossed his face, and he said, abruptly, " I hope Susie will be as kindly in coming years." Miss Walton looked at him curiously as they began to descend the hill to the house. She evi- dently did not understand his remark, coupled with his manner. As they approached the barn there was great OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. 43 excitement among the poultry. Passing round its angle, Walter saw coming toward them a quaint- looking old woman, in what appeared to be a white scalloped nightcap. She had a pan of corn in her hand, and was attended by a retinue that would have rejoiced an epicure's heart. Chickens, ducks, geese, turkeys, and Guinea fowls thronged around and after her with an intentness on the grain and a disregard of one another's rights and feelings that reminded one unpleasantly of political aspir- ants just after a Presidential election. Johnny made a dive for an old gobbler, and the great red-wattled bird dropped his wings and seemed inclined to show fight, but a reluctant armistice was brought about, between them by the old woman screaming: " Maister Johnny, an' ye let not the fowls alone ye'll ha' na apples roast the night." Susie clung timidly to her aunty's side as they passed through these clamorous candidates for holi- day honors, and the young lady said, kindly, " You have a large family to look after, Zibbie, but I'm afraid we'll lessen it every day now." " Indeed, an' ye will, and it goes agin the grain to wring the necks of them that I've nursed from the shell," said the old woman, rather sharply. " It must be a great trial to your feelings," said Miss Walton, laughing ; " but what would you have us do with them, Zibbie? You don't need them all for pets." Before Zibbie could answer, an old gentleman in a low buggy drove into the large door-yard, and 44 OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. the children bounded toward him, screaming, " Grandpa." A colored man took the horse, and Mr. Walton, with a briskness that one would not expect at his advanced age, came toward them. He was a noble-looking old man, with hair and beard as white as snow, and with the stately man- ners of the old school. When he learned who Gregory was he greeted him with a cordiality that was so genuine as to compel the cynical man of the world to feel its truth. Mr. Walton's eyes were turned so often and wist- fully on his face that Gregory was embarrassed. " I was looking for my friend," said the old gentle- man, in a husky voice, turning hastily away to hide his feeling. "You strongly remind me of him; and yet — " But he never finished the sentence. Gregory well understood the " and yet," and in bitterness of soul remembered that his father had been a good man, but that the impress of goodness could not rest on his face. He had now grown very weary, and gave evidence of it. " Mr. Gregory, you look ill," said Miss Walton, hastily. " I am not well," he said, "and have not been for a long time. Perhaps I am going beyond my strength to-day." In a moment they were all solicitude. The driver, who then appeared according to his instructions, was posted back to the hotel for Mr. Gregory's luggage, OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. 45 Mr. Walton saying, with hearty emphasis that removed every scruple, " This must be your home, sir, as long as you can remain with us, as truly as ever it was." A little later he found himself in the "spare room," on whose state he had rarely intruded when a boy. Jeff, the colored man, had kindled a cheery wood fire on the ample hearth, and, too exhausted even to think, Gregory sank back in a great easy- chair with the blessed sense of the storm-tossed on reaching a quiet haven. tHAPTER III. MORBID BROODING. TO the millions who are suffering in mind or body there certainly come in this world moments of repose, when pain ceases ; and the respite seems so delicious in contrast that it may well suggest the "rest that remaineth." Thinking of neither the past nor the future, Gregory for a little time gave himself up to the sense of present and luxurious comfort. With closed eyes and mind almost as quiet as his motionless body, he let the moments pass, feeling dimly that he would ask no better heaven than the eternal continuance of this painless, half-dreaming lethargy. He was soon aroused, however, by a knocking at the door, and a middle-aged servant placed before him a tempting plate of Albert biscuit and a glass of home-made currant wine of indefinite age. The quaint and dainty little lunch caught his appetite as exactly as if manna had fallen adapted to his need ; but it soon stimulated him out of his condition of partial non-existence. With returning consciousness of the necessity of living and acting came the strong desire to spend as much of his vacation as possible in his old home, and he determined to avail himself MORBID BROODING. 47 of Mr. Walton's invitation to the utmost limit that etiquette would permit. His awakened mind gave but little thought to his entertainers, and he did not anticipate much pleasure from their society. He was satisfied that they were refined, cultivated people, with whom he could be as much at ease as would be possible in any companion- ship, but he hoped and proposed to spend the most of his time alone in wandering amid old scenes and brooding over the past. The morbid mind is ever full of unnatural contradictions, and he found a melancholy pleasure in shutting his eyes to the future and recalling the time when he had been happy and hopeful. In his egotism he found more that interested him in his past and vanished self than in the surrounding world. Evil and ill-health had so enfeebled his body, narrowed his mind, and blurred the future, that his best solace seemed a vain and sentimental recalling of the crude yet compara- tively happy period of childhood. This is sorry progress. A man must indeed have lived radically wrong when he looks backward for the best of his life. Gray-haired Mr. Walton was looking forward. Gregory's habit of self-pleasing — of acting according to his mood — was too deeply seated to permit even the thought of returning the hospitality he hoped to enjoy by a cordial effort on his part to prove himself an agreeable guest. Polite he ever would be, for he had the instincts and training of a gentleman, in society's interpretation of the word, but he had lost the power to feel a generous solici- 48 OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. tude for the feelings and happiness of others. Indeed, he rather took a cynical pleasure in discov- ering defects in the character of those around him, and in learning that their seeming enjoyment of life was but hollow and partial. Conscious of being evil himself, he liked to think others were not much better, or would not be if tempted. Therefore, with a gloomy scepticism, he questioned all the seeming happiness and goodness he saw. " It is either unreal or untried," he was wont to say bitterly. About seven o'clock, Hannah, the waitress, again appeared, saying: " Supper is ready, but the ladies beg you will not come down unless you feel able. I can bring up your tea if you wish." Thinking first and only of self, he at once decided not to go down. He felt sufficiently rested and revived, but was in no mood for commonplace talk to comparative strangers. His cosey chair, glowing fire, and listless ease were much better than noisy children, inquisitive ladies, and the unconscious reproach of Mr. Walton's face, as he would look in vain for the lineaments of his lost friend. There- fore he said, suavely : " Please say to the ladies that I am so wearied that I should make but a dull com- panion, and so for their sakes, as well as my own, had better not leave my room this evening." It is the perfection of art in selfishness to make it appear as if you were thinking only of others. This was the design of Walter's polite message. Soon a bit of tender steak, a roast potato, tea, and toast were smoking appetizingly beside him, and he con- MORBID BROODING. 49 gratulated himself that he had escaped the bore of company for one evening. Notwithstanding his misanthropy and cherished desolation the supper was so inviting that he was tempted to partake of it heartily. Then incasing himself in his ample dressing-gown he placed his slippered feet on the fender before a cheery fire, lighted a choice Havana, and proceeded to be miser- able after the fashion that indulged misery often ftfTects. Hannah quietly removed the tea-tray, and Mr. Walton came up and courteously inquired if there svas anything that would add to his guest's comfort. " After a few hours of rest and quiet I hope I v.hall be able to make a better return for your hospi- tality," Gregory rejoined, with equal politeness. " Oh, do not feel under any obligation to exert yourself," said kind Mr. Walton. " In order to deiive full benefit from your vacation, you must simply rest and follow your moods." This view of the case suited Gregory exactly, and the prospect of a visit at his old home grew still more inviting. When he was left alone, he gave him- self up wholly to the memories of the past. At first it was with a pleasurable pain that he recalled his former life. With an imagination natu- rally strong he lived it all over again, from the date of his first recollections. In the curling flames and glowing coals on the hearth a panorama passed before hijn. He saw a joyous child, a light-hearted boy, And a sangtrl le youth, with the shifting and so OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. familiar scenery of well -remembered experience. Time softened the pictures, and the harsh, rough outlines which exist in every truthful portraiture of life were lost in the haze of distance. The gentle but steady light of mother love, and through her a pale, half-recognized reflection of the love of God, illumined all those years; and his father's strong, quiet affection made a background anything but dark. He had been naturally what is termed a very good boy, full of generous impulses. There had been no lack of ordinary waywardness or of the faults of youth, but they showed a tendency to yield readily to the correcting influence of love. Good impulses, however, are not principles, and may give way to stronger impulses of evil. If the influ- ences of his early home had alone followed him, he would not now be moodily recalling the past as the exiled convict might watch the shores of his native land recede. And then, as in his prolonged revery the fire burned low, and the ruddy coals turned to ashes, the past faded into distance, and his present life, dull and leaden, rose before him, and from regretful memories that were not wholly painful he passed to that bitterness of feeling which ever comes when hope is giving place to despair. The fire flickered out and died, his head drooped lower and lower, while the brooding frown upon his brow darkeijed almost into a scowl. Outwardly he made a sad picture for a young man in the prime of life, but to Him who looks at the attitude of the MORBID BROODING. 5 I soul, what but unutterable love kept him from appearing absolutely revolting ? Suddenly, like light breaking into a vault, a few . notes of prelude were struck upon the piano in the parlor below, and a sweet voice, softened by distance sung, " Rock of ages, cleft for me, Let me hide myself in thee. How often he had heard the familiar words and music in that same home ! They seemed to crown and complete all the memories of the place, but they reminded him more clearly than ever before that its most inseparable associations were holy, hopeful, and suggestive of a faith that he seemed to have lost as utterly as if it had been a gem dropped into the ocean. He had lived in foreign lands far from his birth- place, but the purpose to return ever dwelt pleasur- ably in his mind. But how could he cross the gulf that yawned between him and the faith of his childhood ? Was there really anything beyond that gulf save what the credulous imagination had crea- ted? Instinctively he felt that there was, for he was honest enough with himself to remember that his scepticism was the result of an evil life and the influence of an unbelieving world, rather than the outcome of patient investigation. The wish was father to the thought. Yet sweet, unfaltering, and clear as the voice of faith ever should be, the hymn went forward in the 52 OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. room below, his memory supplying the w^l-known words that were lost from remoteness : — " When mine eyelids close in death, When I soar to worlds unknown." "Oh, when!" he exclaimed, bitterly. "What shall be my experience then? If I continue to fail in health as I have of late I shall know cursedly soon. That must be Miss Walton singing. Though she does not realize it, to me this is almost as cruel mockery as if an angel sang at the gates of hell." The music ceased, and the monotone of one read, ing followed. " Family prayers as of old," he muttered. " How everything conspires to-day to bring my home-life back again ! and yet there is a fatal lack of something that is harder to endure than the absence of my own kindred and vanished youth. I doubt whether I can stay here long after all. Will not the mocking fable of Tantalus be repeated constantly, as I see others drinking daily at a fountain which though appar- ently so near is ever beyond my reach ? " Shivering with the chill of the night and the deeper chill at heart, he retired to troubled sleep. CHAPTER IV. HOW MISS WALTON MANAGED PEOPLE. REST, and the sunny light and bracing air of the following morning, banished much of Gregory's moodiness, and he descended the stairs proposing to dismiss painful thoughts and get what comfort and semblance of enjoyment he could out of the passing hours. Mr. Walton met him cordially — indeed with almost fatherly solicitude — and led him at once to the dining-room, where an inviting breakfast awaited them. Miss Walton also was genial, and introduced Miss Eulalia Morton, a maiden sister of her mother. Miss Eulie, as she was familiarly called, was a pale, delicate little lady, with a face sweetened rather than hardened and imbittered by time. If, as some believe, the flesh and the spirit, the soul and the body, are ever at variance, she gave the impression at first glance that the body was getting the worst of the conflict. But in truth the faintest thoughts of strife seemed to have no association with her what- ever. She appeared so light and aerial that one could imagine her flying over the rough places of life, and vanishing when any one opposed her. Miss Walton reversed all this, for she was decid- 54 OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. edly substantial. She was of only medium height, but a fine figure made her appear taller than she was. She immediately gave the impression of power and reserve force. You felt this in her quick, elastic step, saw it in her decided though- not abrupt move- ments, and heard it in her tone. Even the noncha- lant Mr. Gregory could not ignore her in his customary polite manner, though quiet refinement and peculiar unobtrusiveness seemed her characteristics. She won attention, not because she sought it, nor on the ground of eccentricities, but because of her intense vitality. From her dark eyes a close observer might catch glimpses of a quick, active mind, an eager spirit, and — well, perhaps a passionate temper. Though chastened and subdued, she ever gave the impression of power to those who came to know her well. In certain ways, as they interpreted her, people acknowledged this force of character. Some spoke of her as very lively, others as exceedingly energetic and willing to enter on any good work. Some thought her ambitious, else why was she so prominent in church matters, and so ready to visit the sick and poor? They could explain this in but one way. And some looked knowingly at each other and said, " I wonder if she is always as smiling and sweet as when in society ; " and then followed shaking of heads which intimated, " Look out for sudden gusts." Again, as in simple morning wrapper she turned to greet Gregory, she gave him the impression of something like beauty. But his taste, rendered criti- I/O IV MISS WALTON MANAGED PEOPLE. 55 cal by much observation both at home and abroad, at once toid him that he was mistaken. " The expression is well enough," he thought, " but she has not a single perfect feature — not one that an artist would copy, except perhaps the eyes, and even they are not soft and Madonna-like." He had a sybarite's eye for beauty, and an intense admiration for it. At the same time he was too intellectual to be satisfied with the mere sensuous type. And yet, when he decided that a woman was not pretty, she ceased to interest him. His exacting taste required no small degree of outward perfection crowned by ready wit and society polish. With those so endowed he had frequently amused himself in New York and Paris by a passing flirtation since the politic Miss Bently had made him a sceptic in regard to women. All his intercourse with society had confirmed his cynicism. The most beautiful and brilliant in the drawing-rooms were seldom the best. He flattered them to their faces and sneered at them in his heart. Therefore his attentions were merely of a nature to excite their vanity, stimulated by much incense from other sources. He saw this plainly manifested trait, which he contributed to develop, and despised it. He also saw that many were as eager for a good match as ever the adored Miss Bently had been, and that, while they liked his compliments, they cared not for him. Why should they? Insincere and selfish himself, why should he expect to awaken better feelings on the part of those who were anything but unsophisticated, and from j6 OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. knowledge of the world could gauge him at his true worth? Not even a sentimental girl would show her heart to such a man. And yet with the blind egotism of selfishness he smiled grimly at their .apparent heartlessness and said, "Such is woman." At .the same time it must in justice be said that he .despised men in general quite as sincerely. " Human nature is wretched stuff," had come to be the first article in his creed. In regard to Miss Walton he concluded : " She is a goodish girl, more of a lady than the average, pious and orthodox, an excellent housekeeper, and a great comfort to her father, no doubt. She is safe from her very plainness, though confident, of course, that she could resist temptation and be a saint under all circumstances ; " and he dismissed her from his mind with a sort of inward groan and protest against the necessity of making himself agreeable to her during his visit. He did not think it worth while to disguise his face as he made these brief critical observations, and quick-witted Annie gathered something of the drift of his thoughts, as she stole a few glances at him from behind the coffee-urn. It piqued her pride a little, and she was disappointed in him, for she had hoped for a pleasant addition to their society for a time. But she was so supremely indifferent to him, and had so much to fill her thoughts and days, that his slight promise to prove an agreeable visitor caused but momentary annoyance. Yet the glim- mer of a smile flitted across her face as she thought : HO W MISS WAL TON MAN A GED PEOPLE. 5 7 " He may find himself slightly mistaken in me after all. His face seems to say, ' No doubt she is a good young woman, and well enough for this slow country place, but she has no beauty, no style.' I think I can manage to disturb the even current of his vanity, if his visit is long enough, and he shall learn at least that I shall not gape admiringly at his artificial metropolitan airs." Her manner toward Gregory remained full of kindness and grace, but she made no effort to secure his attention and engage him in conversation, as he had feared she would do. She acted as if she were accustomed to see such persons as himself at her father's breakfast-table every morning ; and, though habitually wrapped up in his own personality, he soon became dimly conscious that her course toward him was not what he had expected. Miss Eulie was all solicitude in view of his charac- ter of invalid ; and the children looked at him with curious eyes and growing disapprobation. There was nothing in him to secure their instinctive friend- ship, and he made no effort to win their sympathies. The morning meal began with a reverent looking to heaven for God's blessing on the gifts which were acknowledged as coming from Him ; and even Greg- ory was compelled to admit that the brief rite did not appear like a careless signing of the cross, or a shrivelled form from which spirit and meaning had departed, but a sincere expression of loving trust and gratitude. During the greater part of the meal, Mr. Walton S8 OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. dwelt on the circumstances that had led to his friendship with Gregory's father, but at last the con- versation flagged a little, since the young man made so slight effort to maintain it. Suddenly Mr. Walton turned to his daughter and said, "By the way, Annie, you have not told me where you found Mr. Gregory, for my impression is that you brought him down from the hills." " I was about to say that I found him in a chest- nut burr," replied Annie, with a twinkle in her eye. " At least I found a stranger by the cedar thicket, and he proved from a chestnut burr who he was, and his right to acquaintance, with a better logic than I supposed him capable of." " Indeed ? " asked Gregory, quickly, feeling the prick of her last words ; " on what ground were you led to estimate my logic so slightingly ? " " On merely general grounds ; but you see I am open to all evidence in your favor. City life no doubt has great advantages, but it also has greater drawbacks." " What are they ? " " I cannot think of them all now. SufiSce it to say that if you had always lived in the city you could not have interpreted a chestnut burr so gracefully. Many there seem to forget Nature's lore." " But may they not learn other things more val- uable?" Miss Walton shook her head, and said, with a laugh: "An ignorant exhorter once stated to his HOW MISS WALTON MANAGED PEOPLE. 59 little schoolhouse audience that Paul was brought up at the foot of the hill Gamaliel. I almost wish he were right, for I should have had more confidence in the teachings of the hill than in those of the narrow- minded Jewish Rabbi." " And yet you regard Paul as the very chief of the apostles." " He became such after he was taught of Him who teaches through the hills and nature generally." " My daughter is an enthusiast for nature," remarked Mr. Walton. " If the people are the same as when I was here a boy, the hills have not taught the majority very much," said Gregory, with a French shrug. " Many of them have a better wisdom than you think," answered Annie, quietly. " In what does it consist ? " " Well, for one thing they know how to enjoy life and add to the enjoyment of others." Gregory looked at her keenly for a moment, but saw nothing to lead him to think that she was speak- ing on other than general principles ; but he said, a little moodily, as they rose from the table, " That certainly is a better wisdom than is usually attained in either city or country." " It is not our custom to make company of our friends," said Mr. Walton, cordially. "We hope you will feel completely at home, and come and go as you like, and do just what you find agreeable. We dine at two, and have an early supper on account of the children. There are one or two fair saddle horses on 6o OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. the place, but if you do not feel strong enough to ride, Annie can drive you out, and I assure you she is at home in the management of a horse." "Yes, indeed," echoed the little boy. "Aunt Annie can manage anything or anybody." " That is a remarkable power," said Gregory, with an amused look and a side glance at the young girl. " How does she do it ? " " Oh, I don't know," replied the boy ; " she makes them love her, and then they want to do as she says." A momentary wrathful gleam shot from Annie's eyes at her indiscreet little champion, but with heightened color she joined in the laugh that fol- lowed. Gregory had the ill grace to say with a sort of mocking gallantry, as he bowed himself out, "It must be delightful to be managed on such terms." CHAPTER V. WAS IT AN ACCIDENT? PUTTING on a light overcoat, for the morning air was sharp and bracing, Gregory soon found himself in the old square garden. Though its glory- was decidedly on the wane, it was as yet unnipped by the frost. It had a neatness and an order of its own that were quite unlike those where nature is in entire subordination to art. Indeed it looked very much as he remembered it in the past, and he wel- comed its unchanged aspect. He strolled to many other remembered boyish haunts, and it seemed that the very lichens and mosses grew in the same places as of old, and that nature had stood still and awaited his return. And yet every familiar object chided him for being so changed, and he began to iind more of pain than pleasure as this contrast between what he had been and what he might have been was constantly forced upon him. " Oh that I had never left this place ! " he ex- claimed, bitterly : " It would have been ' better to stay here and drudge as a day laborer. What has that career out in the world to which I looked for- ward so ardently amounted to ? The present is dis- 62 OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. appointment and self-disgust, the future an indefinite region of fears and forebodings, and even the happy- past is becoming a bitter mockery by reminding me of what can never be again." Wearied and despondent, he moodily returned to the house and threw himself on a lounge in the par- lor. A smouldering wood fire upon the hearth soft- ened the air to summer temperature. The heat was grateful to his chilled, bloodless body, and gave him a luxurious sense of physical comfort, and he muttered : " I had about resolved to leave this place with its memories that are growing into torment, but I suppose it would be the same anywhere else. I am too weak and ill to face new scenes and discom- fort. A little animal enjoyment and bodily respite from pain seem about all that is left to me of exist- ence, and I think I can find these here better than elsewhere. If I am expected, however, to fall under the management of the daughter of the house on the terms blurted out by that fidgety nephew of hers, I will fly for my life. A plague on him ! His rest- lessness makes me nervous. If I could endure a child at all, the blue-eyed little girl would make a pretty toy." Sounds from the sitting-room behind the parlor now caught his attention, and listening he soon became aware that Miss Walton was teaching the children. " She has just the voice for a ' schoolmarm,' " he thought, — " quick, clear cut, and decided." If he had not given way to unreasonable prejudice Pf^AS IT AN ACCIDENT. 63 he might also have noted that there was nothing harsh or querulous in it. " With her management and love of nature, she doubtless thinks herself the personification of good- ness. I suppose I shall be well lectured before I get away. I had a foretaste of it this morning. ' Drawbacks of city life,' forsooth ! She no doubt regards me as a result of these disadvantages. But if she should come to deem it her mission to convert or reform me, then will be lost my small remnant of peace and comfort." But weakness and weariness soon inclined him to sleep. Miss Walton's voice sounded far away. Then it passed into his dream as that of Miss Bently chid- ing him affectedly for his wayward tendencies ; again it was explaining that conscientious young lady's "sense of duty" in view of Mr. Grobb's offer, and even in his sleep his face darkened with pain and wrath. Just then, school hours being over. Miss Walton came into the parlor. For a moment, as she stood by the fire, she did not notice its unconscious occupant. Then, seeing him, she was about to leave the room noiselessly, when the expression of his face arrested her steps. If Annie Walton's eyes suggested the probability of "sudden gusts," they also at times announced a warm, kind heart, for as she looked at him now her face instantly softened to pity. " Good he is not,". she thought, " but he evidently suffers in his evil. Something is blighting his life. 64 OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. and what can blight a life save evil ? Perhaps Lhad better change my proposed crusade against his van- ity and cynicism to a kind, sisterly effort toward mak- ing him a better and therefore a happier man. It will soon come out in conversation that I have long been the same as engaged to another, and this will relieve me of absurd suspicions of designs upon him. If I could win a friendly confidence on his part, I'm sure I could tell him some wholesome truths, for even an enemy could scarcely look On that face without relenting." There was nothing slow or cumbrous about Annie. These thoughts had flashed through her mind during the brief moment in which her eyes softened from surprise into sympathy as they caught the expres- sion of Gregory's face. Then, fearing to disturb him, with silent tread she passed out to her wonted morning duties. How seemingly accidental was that visit to the parlor ! Its motive indefinite and forgotten. Ap- parently it was but a trivial episode of an uneventful day, involving no greater catastrophe than the mo- mentary rousing of a sleeper who would doze again. But what day can we with certainty call uneventful ? and what episode trivial ? Those half-aimless, pur- poseless steps of Annie Walton into the quiet parlor might lead to results that would radically change the endless future of several lives. In her womanly, pitying nature, had not God sent His angel? If a viewless "ministering spirit," as the sinful man's appointed guardian, was present, a? WA S IT AN A CCIDENT. 65 many believe is the case witli every one, how truly he must have welcomed this unselfish human com- panionship in his loving labor to save life ; for only they who rescue from sin truly save life. And yet the sleeper, even in his dreams, was evi- dently at war with himself, the world, and God. He was an example of the truth that good comes from without and not from within us. It is heaven stoop- ing to men ; heaven's messengers sent to us ; truth quickened in our minds by heavenly influence, even as sunlight and rain awaken into beautiful life the seeds hidden in the soil ; and, above all, impulses direct from God, that steal into our hearts as the south wind penetrates ice-bound gardens in spring. But, alas ! multitudes like Walter Gregory blind their eyes and steel their hearts against such influ- ences. God and those allied to Him longed to bring the healing of faith and love to his wounded spirit. He scowled back his answer, and, as he then felt, would shrink with morbid sensitiveness and dislike from the kindest and most delicate presentation of the transforming truth. But the divine love is ever seeking to win our attention by messengers innu- merable ; now by the appalling storm, again by a summer sunset ; now by an awful providence, again by a great joy ; at times by stern prophets and teachers, but more often by the gentle human agen- cies of which Annie was the type, as with pitying face she bent over the worn and jaded man of the world and hoped and prayed that she might be able to act the part of a true sister toward him. Thorny 66 OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. and guarded was every avenue to his heart ; and yet her feminine tact, combined with the softening and purifying influence of his old home, might gain her words acceptance, where the wisest and most elo- quent would plead in vain. After dinner he again hastened forth for a walk, his purpose being to avoid company, for he was so moody and morbid, so weak, nervous, and irritable, that the thought of meeting and decorously con- versing with those whose lives and character were a continual reproach to him was intolerable. Then he had the impression that the "keen-eyed, plain- featured Miss Walton," as he characterized her in his mind, would surely commence discoursing on moral and religious subjects if he gave her a chance ; and he feared that .if she did, he would say or do something very rude, and confirm the bad impression that he was sure of having already made. If he could have strolled into his club, and among groups engaged with cards, papers, and city gossip, he would have felt quite at home. Ties formed at such a place are not very strong as a usual thing, and the manner of the world can isolate the members and their real life completely, even when the rooms are thronged. As Gregory grew worn and thin and his pallor increased, as he smoked and brooded more and more apart, his companions would shrug their shoul- ders significantly and whisper, " It looks as if Gregory would go under soon. Something's the matter with him." At first good-natured men would say, "Come, IVAS IT AN ACCIDENT. 6^ Gregory, take a hand with us," but when he com- plied it was with such a listless manner that they were sorry they had asked him. At last, beyond mere passing courtesies, they had come to leave him very much alone ; and in his unnatural and perverted state this was just what he most desired. His whole being had become a diseased, sensitive nerve, shrink- ing most from any effort toward his improvement, even as a finger pointed at a festering wound causes anticipatory agonies. At the club he would be let alone, but these good people would "take an interest in him," and might even " talk religion," and probe with questions and surmises. If they did, he knew, from what he had already seen of them, that they would try to do it delicately and kindly, but he felt that the most con- siderate efforts would be like the surgical instruments of the dark ages. He needed good, decisive, heroic treatment. But who would have the courage and skill to give it ? Who cared enough for him to take the trouble? Not merely had Annie Walton looked with eyes of human pity upon his sin-marred visage that morning. The Divine personality, enthroned in the depths of her soul and permeating her life, looked commiseratingly forth also. Could demons glare from human eyes and God not smile from them ? As Annie thought much of him after her stolen glance in the morning, she longed to do that which he dreaded she would try to do, — attempt his refor- mation. Not that she cared for him personally, or 68 OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. that she had grown sentimentally interested in his Byronic style of wretchedness. So far from it, her happy and healthful nature was repelled by his dis- eased and morbid one. She found him what girls call a " disagreeable man." But she yearned toward a sinning, suffering soul, found in any guise. It was not in her woman's heart to pass by on the other side. CHAPTER VI. UNEXPECTED CHESTNUT BURRS. GREGORY'S afternoon walk was not very pro- longed, for a shivering sense of discomfort soon drove him back to the house. Although the morning had been cool, the sun had shone bright and warm, but now the foreshadowing of a storm was evident. A haze had spread over the sky, increasing in leaden hue toward the west. The chilly wind moaned fitfully through the trees, and the landscape darkened like a face shadowed by coming trouble. Walter dreaded a storm, fearing it would shut him up with the family without escape ; but at last the sun so enshrouded itself in gloom that he was com- pelled to return. He went to his room for a book, hoping that when they saw him engaged they would leave him more to himself. But to his agreeable surprise he found a cheerful fire blazing on the hearth, and an ample supply of wood in a box near. The easy-chair was wheeled forward, and a plate of grapes and the latest magazine were placed invitingly on the table. Even his cynicism was not proof against this delicate thoughtfulness, and he exclaimed, "Ah, this is better than I expected, and a hundred- 70 OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. fold better than I deserve. I make but poor return for their kindness. This cosey room seems to say, 'We won't force ourselves on you. You can be alone as much as you like,' for I suppose they must have noticed my disinclination for society. But they are wise after all, for I am cursed poor company for myself and worse than none at all for others." Eating from time to time a purple grape, he so lost himself in the fresh thoughts of the magazine that the tea-bell rang ere he was aware. " In the name of decency I must try to make myself agreeable for a little while this evening," he muttered, as he descended to the cheerful supper- room. To their solicitude for his health and their regret that the approaching storm had driven him so early to the house, he replied, " I found in my room a better substitute for the sunlight I had lost ; though as a votary of nature. Miss Walton, I suppose you will regard this assertion as rank heresy." " Not at all, for your firelight is the result of sun- light," answered Annie, smiling. " How is that ? " " It required many summers to ripen the wood that blazed on your hearth. Indeed, good dry wood is but concentrated sunshine put by for cold, gloomy days and chilly nights." " That is an odd fancy. I wish there were other ways of storing up sunshine for future use." ' " There are," said Miss Walton, cheerfully ; and she looked up as if she would like to say more, but UNEXPECTED CHESTNUT BURRS. 71 he instantly changed the subject in his instinctive wish to avoid the faintest approach to moralizing. Still, conversation continued brisk till Mr. Walton asked suddenly, " By the way, Mr. Gregory, have you ever met Mr. Hunting of Wall Street?" There was no immediate answer, and they all looked inquiringly at him. To their surprise his face was darkened by the heaviest frown. After a moment he said, with peculiar emphasis, " Yes ; I know him well." A chill seemed to fall on them after that ; and he, glancing up, saw that Annie looked flushed and indignant, Miss Eulie pained, and Mr. Walton very grave. Even the little boy shot vindictive glances at him. He at once surmised that Hunting was related to the family, and was oppressed with the thought that he was fast losing the welcome given him on his father's account. But in a few moments Annie rallied and made unwonted efforts to banish the general embarrassment, and with partial success, for Gregory had tact and good conversational pow- ers if he chose to exert them. When, soon after, they adjourned to the parlor, outward serenity reigned. On either side of the ample hearth, on which blazed a hickory fire, a table was drawn up. An easy-chair stood invitingly by each, with a little carpet bench on which to rest the feet. " Take one of these," said Mr. Walton, cordially, " and join me with a cigar. The ladies of my house- hold are indulgent to my small vices." 72 OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. "And I will send for your magazine," said Annie, " and then you can read and chat according to your mood. You see that we do not intend to make a stranger of you." "For which I am very glad. You treat me far better than I deserve." Instead of some deprecatory remark, Annie gave him a quick, half-comical look which he did not fully understand. " There is more in her than I at first imagined," he thought. Seated with the magazine, Gregory found himself in the enjoyment of every element of comfort. That he might be under no constraint to talk, Annie commenced speaking to her father and Miss Eulie of some neighborhood affairs, of which he knew nothing. The children and a large greyhound were dividing the rug between them. The former were chatting in low tones and roasting the first chestnuts of the season on a broad shovel that was placed on the glowing coals. The dog was sleepily watching them lest in their quick movements his tail should come to grief. Gregory had something of an artist's eye, and he could not help glancing up from his reading occa- sionally, and thinking what a pretty picture the roomy parlor made. " Annie," said Mr. Walton, after a little while, " I can't get through this article with my old eyes. Won't you finish it for me ? Shall we disturb you Mr. Gregory?" UNEXPECTED CHESTNUT BURRS. 73 "Not at all." Gregory soon forgot to read himself in listening to her. Not that he heard the subject-matter with any interest, but her sweet, natural tones and sim- plicity arrested and retained his attention. Even the statistics and the prose of political economy seemed to fall from her lips in musicail cadence, and yet there was no apparent effort and not a thought of effect. Walter mused as he listened. " I would like to hear some quiet, genial book read in that style, though it is evident that Miss Walton is no tragedy queen." Having finished the reading, Annie started briskly up and said, " Come, little people, your chestnuts are roasted and eaten. It's bedtime. The turkeys and squirrels will be at the nut-trees long before you to-morrow unless you scamper off at once." " O, Aunt Annie," chimed their voices, " you must sing us the chestnut song first ; you promised to." " With your permission, Mr. Gregory, I suppose I must make my promise good," said Annie. " I join the children in asking for the song," he repHed, glad to get them out of the way on such easy conditions, though he expected a nursery ditty or a juvenile hymn from some Sabbath-school collec- tion, wherein healthy, growing boys are made to sing, "I want to be an angel." "Moreover," he added, " I have read that one must always keep one's word to a child." " Which is a very important truth ; do you not think so ? " 74 OPENINd A CHESTNUT BURR. " Since you are using the word ' truth ' so promi- nently, Miss Walton, I must say that I have not thought much about it. But I certainly would have you keep your word on this occasion." "Aunt Annie always keeps her word," said Johnny, rather bluntly. By some childish instinct he divined that Gregory did not appreciate Aunt Annie suffi- ciently, and this added to his prejudice. "You haveastout little champion there," Gregory remarked. " I cannot complain of his zeal," she answered significantly, at the same time giving the boy a caress. " Mr. Gregory, this is a rude country ballad, and we are going to sing it in our accustomed way, even though it shock your city ears. Johnny and Susie, you can join in the chorus ;" and she sang the following simple October glee : Katydid, your throat is sore. You can chirp this fall no more ; Robin red-breast, summer's past, Did you think 'twould always last ? Fly away to sunny climes. Lands of oranges and limes ; With the squirrels we shall stay And put our store of nuts away. O the spiny chestnut burrs ! O the prickly chestnut purrs ! Harsh without, but lined with down. And full of chestnuts, plump and brown Sorry are we for the flowers ; We shall miss our summer bowers ; Still we welcome frosty Jack, Stealing now from Greenland back. UNEXPECTED CHESTNUT BURRS. 75 And the burrs will welcome him ; When he knocks, they'll let him in. They don't know what Jack's about ; Soon he'll turn the chestnuts out. O the spiny, etc. — Turkey gobbler, with your train, You shall scratch the leaves in vain ; Squirrel, with your whisking tail. Your sharp eyes shall not avail ; In the crisp and early dawn. Scampering across the lawn. We will beat you to the trees. Come you then whene'er you please. O the spiny, etc. — Gregory's expression as she played a simple pre- lude was one of endurance, but when she began to sing the changes of his face were rapid. First he turned toward her with a look of interest, then of surprise. Miss Eulie could not help watching him, for, though she was well on in life, just such a char- acter had never risen above her horizon. Too gentle to censure, she felt that she had much cause for regret. At first she was pleased to see that he found the ditty far more to his taste than he had expected. But the rapid alternation from pleased surprise and enjoyment to something like a scowl of despair and almost hate she could not understand. Following his eyes she saw them resting on the boy, who was now eagerly joining in the chorus of the last verse. She was not sufficiently skilled to know that to 76 OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. Gregory's diseased moral nature things most simple and wholesome in themselves were most repugnant. She could not understand that the tripping little song, with its wild-wood life and movement — that the boy singing with the delight of a pure, fresh heart — told him, beyond the power of labored language, how hackneyed and blas^ he had become, how far and hopelessly he had drifted from the same true childhood. And Miss Walton, turning suddenly toward him, saw the same dark expression, full of suffering and impotent revolt at his destiny, as he regarded it, and she too was puzzled. " You do not like our foolish little song," she said. " I envy that boy. Miss Walton," was his reply. Then she began to understand him, and said, gently, " You have no occasion to." " I wish you, or any one, could find the logic to prove that." " The proof is not in logic but in nature, that is ever young. They who draw their life from nature do not fall into the only age we need dread." " Do you not expect to grow old ? " She shook her head half humorously and said, " But these children will before I get them to bed." He ostensibly resumed his magazine, but did not turn any leaves. His first mental query was, " Have I rightly gauged Miss Walton ? I half believe she under- stands me better than I do her. I estimated her as a goodish, fairly educated country girl, of the church- UNEXPECTED CHESTNUT BURRS. 77 going sort, one that would be dreadfully shocked at finding me out, and deem it at once her mission to pluck me as a brand from the burning. I know all about the goodness of such girls. They are ignorant of the world ; they have never been tempted, and they have a brood of little feminine weaknesses that of course are not paraded in public. " And no doubt all this is true of Miss Walton, and yet, for some reason, she interests me a little this evening. She is refined, but nowhere in the world will you meet drearier monotony and barrenness than among refined people. Having no real origi- nality, their little oddities are polished away. In Miss Walton I'm beginning to catch glimpses of vistas unexplored, though perhaps I am a fool for thinking so, " What a peculiar voice she has ! She would make a poor figure, no doubt, in an opera ; and yet she might render a simple aria very well. But for songs of nature and ballads I have never heard so sympa- thetic a voice. It suggests a power of making music a sweet home language instead of a difficult, high art, attainable by few. Really Miss Walton is worth investigation, for no one with such a voice can be utterly commonplace. Strange as it is, I cannot ignore her. Though she makes no effort to attract my attention, I am ever conscious of her presence." CHAPTER VII. A CONSPIRACY. WHEN Miss Walton returned to the parlor her father said, " Annie, I am going to trespass on your patience again." She answered with a little piquant gesture, and was soon reading in natural, easy tones, without much stumbling, what must have been Greek to her. Gregory watched her with increasing interest, and another question than the one of finance involved in the article was rising in his mind. " Is this real ? Is this seeming goodness a fact ? " It was the very essence of his perverted nature to doubt it. Now that his eyes were opened, and he closely observed Miss Walton, he saw that his preju- dices against her were groundless. Although not a stylish, pretty woman, she was evidently far removed from the goodish, commonplace character that he could regard as part of the furniture of the house, useful in its place, but of no more interest than a needful piece of cabinet work. Nor did she assert herself as do those aggressive, lecturing females who deem it their mission to set everybody right within their sphere. A CONSPIRACY. 79 And yet she did assert herself ; but he was com- pelled to admit that it was like the summer breeze or the perfume of a rose. He had resolved that very day to avoid and ignore her as far as possible, and yet, before the first evening in her presence was half over, he had left a magazine story unfinished ; he was watching her, thinking and surmising about her, and listening, as she read, to what he did not care a straw about. Although she had not made the slightest effort, some influence from her had stolen upon him. like a cool breeze on a sultry day, and wooed him as gently as the perfume of a flower that is sweet to all. He said to himself, " She is not pretty," and yet found pleasure in watching her red lips drop figures and financial terms as musically as a little rill murmurs over a mossy rock. From behind his magazine he studied the group at the opposite table, but it was with the pain which a despairing swimmer, swept seaward by a resistless current, might feel in seeing the safe and happy on the shore. Gray Mr. Walton leaned back in his chair, the embodiment of peace and placid content. The subject to which he was listening and kindred topics had so far receded that his interest was that of a calm, philosophic observer, and Gregory thought, with a glimmer of a smile, " He is not dabbling in stocks or he could not maintain that quiet mien." His habits of thought as a business man merely made it a pleasure to keep up with the times. In fact he was in that serene border-land between the 8o OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. two worlds where the questions of earth are growing vague and distant and those of the " better country " more real and engrossing, for Gregory observed, later ip the evening, that he took the family Bible with more zest than he had bestowed on the motive power of the world. It was evident where his most valued treasures -were stored. With a bitter sigh, Gregory thought, "I would take his gray hairs if I could have his peace and faith." Miss Eulie, to whom he gave a passing glance, seemed even less earthly in her nature. Indeed, it appealed as if she had never more than half belonged to the material creation. Slight, ethereal, with untroubled blue eyes, and little puff curls too light to show their change to gray, she struck Gregory unpleasantly, as if she were a connecting link between gross humanity and spiritual existence, and his eyes reverted to Miss Walton, and dwelt with increasing interest on her. There at least were youth, health, and something else — what was it in the girl that had so strongly and suddenly gained his attention? At any rate there was nothing about her uncanny and spirit-like. He did not understand her. Was it possible that a young girl, not much beyond twenty, was happy in the care of orphan children, in the quiet humdrum duties of housekeeping, and in reading stupid arti- cles through the long, quiet evenings, with few ex- citements beyond church-going, rural tea-drinkings, and country walks and rides? With a grim smile he thought how soon the belles he had admired would A CONSPIRACY. 8 1 expire under such a regimen. Could this be good acting because a guest was present ? If so it was perfect, for it seemed her daily life. " I will watch her," he thought. " I will solve this little feminine enigma. It will divert my mind, and I've nothing else to do." " My daughter spoils me, you see, Mr. Gregory," said Mr. Walton, starting up as Annie finished a theory that would make every one rich by the print- ing-press process. " Don't plume yourself, papa," replied Annie, archly ; " I shall make you do something for me to pay for all this." With a humorous look he replied, " No matter, I have the best of the bargain, for I should have to do the ' something ' anyway. But what do you think of this theory, sir ? " And he explained, not know- ing that Walter had been listening. The gentlemen were soon deep in the mysteries of currency and finance, topics on which both could talk well. Annie listened with polite attention for a short time, — indeed Gregory was exerting himself more for her sake than for Mr. Walton's, — and she was satisfied from her father's face that his guest was interesting him; but as the subject was mainly unintelligible to her she soon turned with real zest to Miss Eulie's fancy-work, and there was an earnest whispered discussion in regard to the right number of stitches. Walter noted this and sneeringly thought, with a masculine phase of justice often seen, " That's like a woman. 3he drops one of the 82 OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. deepest and most important subjects of the day" (and he might have added, " As explained by me ") • — " and gives her whole soul to a bit of thread lace ; " and he soon let Mr. Walton have the discussion all his own way. In furtherance of his purpose to draw Annie out he said, rather banteringly, " Miss Walton, I am astonished that so good a man as your father should have as an ardent friend the profane and disreputable character that I found living in the cottage opposite on the day of my arrival." " Profane, I admit he is," she replied, " but not disreputable. Indeed, as the world goes, I think old Daddy Tuggar, as he is called in this vicinity, is a good man." " O, Annie ! " said Miss Eulie. " How can you think so ? You have broader charity than I. He is breaking his poor wife's heart." " Indeed ? " said Annie, dryly ; " I was not aware of it." "I too am astonished," said Walter, in mock solemnity. " How is it that a refined and orthodox young lady, a pillar of the church, too, I gather, can regard with other than unmixed disapprobation a man who breaks the third commandment and all the rules of Lindley Murray at every breath ? " " I imagine the latter offence is the more heinous sin in your eyes, Mr. Gregory," she said, scanning his face with a quick look. " Oh, you become aggressive. I was under the impression that I was making the attack and that A COI^SPIJiACY. 83 you were on the defensive. But I can readily explain the opinion which you, perhaps not unjustly, impute to me. You and I judge this venerable sinner from different standpoints." "You explain your judgment, but do not justify it," replied Annie, quietly. "Annie, I don't see on what grounds you call Daddy Tuggar a good man," said Miss Eulie, emphatically. " Please understand me, aunty," said Annie, earn- estly. " I did not say he was a Christian man, but merely a good man as the world goes ; and I know I shall shock you when I §ay that I have more faith in him than in his praying and Scripture-quoting wife. There, I knew I should," she added, as she saw Miss Eulie's look of pained surprise. Mr. Walton was listening with an amused smile. He evidently understood his quaint old friend and shared Annie's opinion of him. Gregory was growing decidedly interested, and said, "Really, Miss Walton, I must, side with your aunt in this matter. I shall overwhelm you with an awful word. I think you are latitudinarian in your tendencies." " Which Daddy Tuggar would call a new-fangled way of swearing at me," retorted Annie, with her frank laugh that was so genuinely mirthful that even Aunt Eulie joined in it. " I half think," continued Annie, "that the church- men in the ages of controversy did a good deal of worse swearing than our old neighbor is guilty of 84 OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. when they hurled at each other with such bitter zest the epithets Antinomian, Socinian, Pelagian, Cal- vinistic, etc." " Those terms have an awful sound. They smite my ear with all the power that vagueness imparts, and surely must have caused stout hearts to tremble in their day," he remarked. " We are no longer on the ground of currency and finance," said Annie, archly, "and I shall leave you to imagine that I know all about the ideas repre- sented by the polysyllabic terms of churchmen's war- fare." He looked at her a moment in comic dismay. Really this country girl was growing too much for him in his game of banter. " Miss Walton, I shall not dispute or question your knowledge of the Socin — cin — (you know the rest) heresy — " "Alas '."put in Annie, quietly, "I do know all about the ' sin heresy.' I can say that honestly." " I am somewhat inclined to doubt that," he said, quickly ; then added, in sudden and mock severity, " Miss Walton, if I were a judge upon the bench I should charge that you were evading the question and befogging the case. The point at issue is, How can you regard Daddy Tuggar as a good man ? As evidence against him I can afifirm that I do not remember to have had such a good square cursing in my life, and I have received several." This last expression caused Miss Eulie to open her eyes at him. A CONSPIJiACY. 85 " Not for your sake, sir," said Annie, with a keen yet humorous glance at him, " who as judge on the bench have in your pocket a written verdict, I fear, but for Aunt Eulie's I will give the reasons for my estimate. I regard her in the light of an honest jury. In the first place the term you used, ' square,' applies to him. I do not think he could be tempted to do a dishonest thing ; and that, as the world goes, is certainly a good point." " And as the church goes, too," he added, cynically. ■ " He is a good neighbor, and considerate of the rights of others. He can feel, and is not afraid to show a sincere indignation when seeing a wrong done to another." " I can vouch for that. I shall steal no more of your apples, Mr. Walton." " There is not a particle of hypocrisy about him. I wish I could think the same of his wife. For some reason she always gives me the impression of insin- cerity. If I were as good as you are, aunty, perhaps I should not be so suspicious. One thing more, and my eulogy of Daddy — the only one he will ever receive, I fear— is over. He is capable of sincere friendship, and that is more than you can say of a great many." " It is indeed," said Gregory, with bitter emphasis. " I should be willing to take my chances with Daddy Tuggar in this or any other world." " You had better not," she answered, now thor- oughly in earnest. " Why so ? " 8f OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. " I should think memories of this place would irake my meaning clear," she replied, gently. Gregory's face darkened, and he admitted to him- self that most unexpectedly she had sent an arrow home, and yet he could take no exception. His indifference toward her had vanished now. So tar from regarding her as a dull, good, country girl with a narrow horizon of little feminine and common- place interests, he began to doubt whether he should be able to cope with her in the tilt of thought. He saw that she was quick, original, and did her own thinking, that in repartee she hit back unexpectedly, in flashes, as the lightning strikes from the clouds. He could not keep pace with her quick intuition. Moreover, in her delicate reference to his parents' faith she had suggested an argument for Christianity that he had never been able to answer. For a little time she had caused him to forget his wretched self, but her last remark had thrown him back on his old doubts, fears, and memories. As we have said, his cynical, despondent expression returned, and he silently lowered at the fire. Annie had too much tact to add a word. " He must be hurt — well probed indeed — before he can be well," she thought. Country bedtime had now come, and Mr. Walton said, " Mr. Gregory, I trust you will not find our cus- tom of family prayers distasteful." " The absence of such a custom would seem strange to me in this place," he replied, but he did not say whether it would be agreeable or distasteful. A CONSPIRACY. 87 Annie went to the piano as if it were a habit, and after a. moment chose the tender hymn — " Come, ye disconsolate." At first in his morbid sensitiveness, he was inclined to resent this selection as aimed at him, but soon he was under the spell of the music and the sentiment, which he thought had never before been so exquisitely blended. Miss Walton was not very finished or artistic in anything. She would not be regarded as a scholar, even among the girls of her own ,age and station, and her knowledge of classical music was limited. But she was gifted in a peculiar degree with tact, a quick perception, and the power of interpreting the lan- guage of nature and of the heart. She read and estimated character rapidly. Almost intuitively she saw people's needs and weaknesses, but so far was she from making them the grbund of satire and contempt that they awakened her pity and desire to help. In other words, she was one of those Christians who in some degree catch the very essence of Christ's char- acter, who lived and died to save. She did not think of condemning the guilty and disconsolate man that brooded at her fireside, but she did long to help him. " I may never be able to say such words to him directly," she thought, " but I can sing them, and if he leaves our home to-morrow he shall hear the truth once more." And she did sing with tenderness and feeling. In rendering something that required simplicity^ nature, and pathos, no prima donna could surpass her, for 88 OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. while her voice was not powerful, and had no unus- ual compass, it was as sweet as that of a thrush in May. Only deaf ears and a stony heart . could have remained insensible, and Gregory was touched. A reviving breath from Paradise seemed to blow upon him and gently urge, " Arise, struggle, make one more effort, and you may yet cross the burning sands of the desert. It is not a mirage that is mocking you now." As the last words trembled from the singer's lips he shaded his eyes with the hand on which his head was leaning, but Miss Eulie saw a tear fall with momentary glitter, and she exulted over it as his good angel might have done. If penitent tears could be crystallized they would be the only gems of earth that angels would covet, and perhaps God's co-workers here will find those that they caused to flow on earth set as gems in their "crown of glory that fadeth not away." Mr. Walton, in reverential tones, read the fifty- third chaptfer of Isaiah, which, with greater beauty and tenderness, carried forward the thought of the hymn ; and then he knelt and offered a prayer that was so simple and childlike, so free from form and cant, and so direct from the heart, that Gregory was deeply moved. The associations of his early home were now most vividly revealed and crowned by the sacred hour of family worship, the memory of which, like a reproachful face, had followed him in all his evil life. A CONSPIRACY. 89 When he arose from his knees he again shaded his face with his hand to hide his wet eyes and twitching muscles. After a few moments he bade the family an abrupt good-night, and retired to his room. At first they merely exchanged significant glances. Then Miss Eulie told of the tear as if it were a bit of dust from a mine that might enrich them all. For a while Annie sat thoughtfully gazing into the fire, but at last she said, " It must be plain to us that Mr. Gregory has wandered farther from his old home in spirit than he has in body ; but it seems equally evident that he is not happy and content. He seems suffering and out of health in soul and body. Perhaps God has sent him to us and to his childhood's home for healing. Let us, therefore, be very careful, very tender and considerate. He is naturally proud and sensitive, and is morbidly so now." " I think he is near the Kingdom," said Miss Eulie, with a little sigh of satisfaction. " Perhaps all are nearer than we think," said Annie, in a musing tone. " God is not far from any one of us. But it is the curse of sin to blind. He has, no doubt, been long in reaching his present unhappy condition, and he may be long in escaping from it." " Well, the Lord reigns," said Mr. Walton, sen- tentiously, as if that settled the question. " Dear old father ! " said Annie, smiling fondly at him, " that's your favorite saying. You have a com- fortable habit of putting all perplexing questions 9° OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. into the Lord's hand and borrowing no further trouble. Perhaps that, is the wisest way after all, only one is a long time learning it." " I've been a long time learning it, my child," said Jier father. " Let us agree to carry his case often to the throne of mercy, and in His good time and way our prayers will be answered." Thus in quaint old scriptural style they conspired for the life of their unconscious guest. This was in truth a "holy alliance." How many dark conspira- cies there have been, resulting in blood, wrong, and outrage, that some unworthy brow might wear for a little time a petty, perishing crown of earth ! Oh, that there were more conspiracies like that in Mr. Walton's paflor for the purpose of rendering the unworthy fit to vv-sa/' tih« crown immortal ! CHAPTER VIII. WITCHCRAFT. MISS EULIE was doomed to disappointment, for Gregory came down late to breakfast the following, morning with not a trace of his softened feelings. Indeed, because of pride, or for some reason, he chose to seem the very reverse of all she had hoped. The winter of his unbelief could not pass away so easily. Even in January there are days of sudden relent- ing, when the frost's icy grasp upon nature seems to relax. Days that rightfully belong to spring drop down upon us with birds that have come before their time. But such days may end in a north-east snow- storm and the birds perish. The simile appeared true of Gregory. As far as he took part in the table-talk he was a cold, finished man of the world, and the gloom of the early morn- ing rested on his face. But Annie noticed that he made an indifferent breakfast and did not appear well. After he had retired to his room to write some letters, as he said, she remarked to her father when alone with him : " I suppose you remember Mr. Gregory's manner 92 OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. when you spoke of Mr. Hunting. They evidently are acquainted and not on good terms. What could have occurred between them ? " " Some quarrel resulting from business, perhaps," said Mr. Walton, musingly. " I believe Charles has been trying to restrain Mr. Gregory in some of his fast ways," Annie continued, emph?itically, ' and they have had hot words. Men have so little discretion in their zeal." " Business men are not apt to interfere with each other's foibles unless they threaten their pockets," her father replied. " It is more probable that Greg- ory has borrowed money of Hunting, and been com- pelled to pay it against his will ; and yet I have no right to surmise anything of the kind." " But Mr. Hunting is not a mere business man, father. He is bent on doing good wherever he can find opportunity. I incline to my solution. But it is clear that we must be silent in regard to him while Mr. Gregory is with us, for I never saw such bitter enmity expressed in any face. It is well that Charles is to be absent for some time, and that we have no prospect of a visit from him while our guest is here. Oh, dear! I wish Charles could come and make us a visit instead of this moody,, wayward stranger." " I can echo that wish heartily, Annie, for in the son I find little of my old friend, his father. But remember what yeu said last night. It may be that he was sent to us in order that we should help him become what his father was." " I will do my best ; but I do not look forward to WH'CHCRAFT. 93 his society with much pleasure. Still, if there should be any such result as we hope for, I should feel repaid a thousand-fold." Gregory finished his letters and then paced rest- lessly up and down his room. " That this country girl should have so moved me ! " he muttered. " What does it mean ? What is there about her that takes hold of my attention and awakens my interest ? I wish to go down-stairs now, and talk to her, and have her read to me, and am provoked with myself that I do. Yesterday at this time I wished to avoid her. "Why should I wish to avoid her? If she amuses me, diverts my mind, beguiles my pain, or more dreary apathy, why not let her exert her power to the utmost and make herself useful ? Yes, but she will try to do mpre than amuse. Well, suppose she does ; one can coolly foil such efforts. Not so sure of that. If I were dealing with a man I could, but one must be worse than a clod to hear her sing and not feel. I suppose I made a weak fool of myself before them all last night, and they thought I was on the eve of conversion. I half wish I were, or on the eve of anything else. Any change from my present state would seem a relief. But a man cannot go into these things like an impulsive girl, even if he believes in them, which is more than I do. I seem to have fallen into a state of moral and physical imbecility, in which I can only doubt, suffer, and chafe. " I won't avoid her. I will study and analyze her 94 OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. character. I doubt whether she is as good, fresh, and original as she seems. Such girls exist only in moral stories, and I've met but few even there. I will solve her mystery. Probably it is not a very deep one, and after a day or two she will become an old story and life resume its normal monotony ;" and he at once descended the stairs to carry out his purpose. The children were just coming from the sitting- room where they had their school, exclaiming, " 0, aunty, what shall we do this awful rainy day ? " " Wait till I have given some directions to Zibbie, and I will read you a fairy story, and then you can go up into the garret until dinner-time." " May I listen to the fairy story also ? " asked Walter. Miss Walton looked up with a smile and said, "You must be half-desperate from your imprison- ment to accept of such solace. But if you can wait till I have kept my word to the children I will read something more to your taste." " I think I should like to hear how a fairy story sounds once again after all these years." " As Shakespeare may sound to us sometime in the future," she replied, smiling. " I can't believe we shall ever outgrow Shake- speare," he said. " I can believe it, but cannot understand how it is possible. As yet I am only growing up to Shakespeare." " You seem very ready to believe what you cannot understand." WITCHCRAFT. 95 " And that is woman's way, I suppose you would like to add," she answered, smiling over her shoulder, as she turned to the kitchen department. " You men have a general faith that there "will be dinner at two o'clock, though you understand very little how it comes to pass, and if you are disappointed the best of your sex have not fortitude enough to wait patiently, so I must delay no longer to propitiate the kitchen divinity." " There 1 " he said, " I have but crossed her steps in the hall, and she has stirred me and set my nerves tingling like an October breeze. She is a witch." After a few minutes Miss Walton entered. Each of the children called for a story, and both clamored for their favorites. " Johnny," said Miss Walton, " it is manly to yield to the least and weakest, especially if she be a little woman." The boy thought a moment, and then with an amusing assumption of dignity said, " You may read Susie's story first, aunty." " Susie, promise Johnny that his story shall be read first next time ; " which Susie promptly did with a touch of the womanly grace which accompanies favors bestowed after the feminine will has tri- umphed. " Now, little miniature man and woman, listen ! " and their round eyes were ready for the world of wonders. And this child of nature was at the same time 96 OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. showing Gregory a world as new and strange — a world that he had caught glimpses of when a boy, but since had lost hopelessly. She carried the chil- dren away into fairy land. She suggested to him a life in which simplicity, truth, and genuine goodness might bring peace and hope to the heart. " Well, what do you think of the fairy story ? " she asked after she had finished and the children had drawn sighs of intense relief at the happy denouement, in which the ugly ogre was slain and the prince and princess were married. " I did not hear it," he said. " That's complimentary. But you appeared listen- ing very closely." "You have heard of people reading a different meaning between the lines, and I suppose one can listen to a different meaning." " And what could you find between the lines of this fairy tale ? " she asked with interest. " It would be difficult for me to explain — some- thing too vague and indefinite for words, I fear. But if you will read me something else I will listen to the text itself." "Come, children, scamper off to the garret," said Annie, "and remember you are nearer heaven up there, and so must be very kind and gentle to each other." " You will fill those youngsters' heads with beauti- ful superstitions." " Superstition and faith are not so very far apart though so unlike." WITCHCRAFT. 97 " Yes, it is hard to tell where one leaves off and the other begins." "Isit?" "Isn't it?" " I don't like to contradict you, sir." " You have contradicted me, and I suppose ' it is manly to yield to a lady.' " "Not in matters of principle and honest con- viction." " Alas ! if one has not very much of either ! " " It is a very great misfortune, and, I suppose I ought to add, fault." "I have no doubt it is a misfortune. Miss Walton.; but you are not reading." "Well, make your choice." " I leave it entirely to you." " You don't look very well to-day. I will select something light and cheerful from Dickens." " Excuse me, please. I am in no mood for his deliberate purpose to make one laugh." "Then" here is Irving. His style flows like a meadow brook." "No, he is too sentimental." " Walter Scott, then, will form a happy medium." " No, he wearies one with explanations and his- tory." " Some of Tennyson's dainty idyls will suit your fastidious taste." " I couldn't abide his affected, stilted language to- day." "Shakespeare, then ; you regard him as perfect." 98 OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. "No, he makes me think, and I do not wish to." "Well, here are newspapers, the latest magazme, and some new novels." "Modern rubbish— a mushroom growth. They will soon kindle kitchen fires instead of thought." " Then I must make an expedition to the library. What shall I bring? There is Mosheim's ' Ecclesias- tical Ancient History ' ; that has a solid, venerable sound. Or, if you prefer poetry, I will get Gray's ' Elegy.' That cannot be a literary mushroom, for he was twenty years writing it. But perhaps it is Tupper you would like. That would suit your mood exactly, Tupper's ' Proverbial Philosophy. ' " " You are growing satirical, Miss Walton. Why don't you assert plainly that I am as full of whims "as a — " " Woman, would you like to say ? " " Present company excepted. The fact is, I am two-thirds ill to-day, and the most faultless style and , theme in our language would weary me. I am pos- sessed by the evil spirits of ennui, unrest, and dis- gust at myself and all the world, present company always excepted. Do you know of any spell that can exorcise these demons ? " " Yes, a very simple one. Will you put yourself absolutely in my power and obey .? " " I am your slave." Miss Walton left the room and soon returned with a large afghan. " You must take a horizontal posi- tion in order that my spell may work." " Pshaw ! you are prescribing an ordinary nap," IVITCHCRAFT. 99 " I am glad to say the best things in this world are ordinary. But permit me to suggest that in view of your pledged word you have nothing to do in this matter but to obey." " Very well ; " and he threw himself on the sofa. " The day is chilly, sir, and I must throw this afghan over you ;" and she did so with a little touch of delicacy which is so grateful when one is indis- posed. Her manner both soothed and pleased him. He was more lonely than he realized, for it had been years since he had experienced woman's gentle care and ministry ; and Annie Walton had a power possessed by few to put jangling nerves at rest. Suddenly he said, " I wish I had a sister like you." " My creed, you know," she replied, " makes all mankind kindred." " Nonsense ! " said Gregory, irritably ; " deliver me from your church sisters." " Take care ! " she answered, with a warning nod, " I'm a church sister ; so don't drive me away, for I am going to sing you to sleep." " I'm half inclined to join your church that I may call you sister." " You would be disciplined and excommunicated within a month. But hush ; you must not talk." " How would you treat me after I had been ana- thematized ? " " If you were as ill as you are to-day I would make you sleep. Hush ; not another word. I am going to sing." 100 OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. A luxurious sense of comfort stole over him, and he composed himself to listen and criticise, little imagining, though, that he would fall asleep. He saw through the window a lowering sky with leaden clouds driven wildly across it. The wind moaned and soughed around the angles of the house, and the rain beat against the glass. All without seemed emblematic of himself. But now he Tiad a brief but blessed sense of shelter from both the storm and him- self. The fire blazed cheerily ori the hearth. The afghan seemed to envelop him like a genial atmos- phere. Had Miss Walton bewitched it by her touch? And now she has found something to suit her, or rather him, and is singing. " What an unusual voice she has ! " he thought. " Truly the spirit of David's harp, that could banish the demon from Saul, dwells in it. I wonder if she is as good and real as she seems, or whether, under the stress of temptation or the poison of flattery, she would not show herself a true daughter of Eve ? I must find out, for it is about the only remaining question that interests me. If she is like the rest of us — if she is a female Hunting — then good-by to all hope. I shall not live to find anybody or anything to trust. ' If she is what she seems, it's barely pos- sible that she might help me out of this horrible * slough of despond,' if she would take the trouble. I wish that she were my sister, or that my sister had lived and had been just like her." CHAPTER IX. MISS WALTON RECOMMENDS A HOBBY. TO Gregory's surprise he waked and then admitted to himself that, contrary to his expectation and purpose, he had been asleep. His last remembered consciousness was that of sweet, low music ; and how long ago was that ? He looked at his watch; it was nearly two, and he must have slept several hours. He glanced around and saw that he was alone, but the fire still blazed on the hearth, and the afghan infolded him with its genial warmth as before, and it seemed that although by himself he was still cared for. " She is a witch," he muttered. " Her spells are no jokes. But I will investigate her case like an old- time Salem inquisitor. With more than Yankee curiosity, which was at the bottom of their supersti- tious questionings, I will pry into her power. But she will find that she has a wary sceptic to convince. I have seen too many saints and sinners to be again, deceived by fair seeming." A broad ray of sunlight shot across the room. " By my soul ! it's clearing off. Is this her work also ? Has she swept away the clouds with her broomstick ? And -there goes the dinner-bell, too ; " I02 OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. and he went to his room two steps at a time, as he had done when a boy. Annie coming out of the sitting-room at that moment, smiled and said : " He must be better." At the table she asked, " How do you find your- self now ? " " Much given to appetite." Then, turning to Mr. Walton, he said, abruptly, " Do you believe in witch- craft?" " Well, no, sir," said Mr. Walton, a little taken aback. "I do ! " continued he, emphatically. "When and where have you had experiance of the black art?" " This morning, and in your house, sir." " You seem none the worse for it," said his host, smiling. " Indeed, I have not felt so well in months. Your larder will suffer if I am practised upon any more." " Well, of all modern and prosaic results of witch- ery this exceeds," said Annie, laughing, "since only a good appetite comes of it." " It yet remains to be seen whether this is the only result," replied Gregory. " What possessed the old Puritans to persecute the Salem witches is a mystery to me, if their experience was anything like mine." " You must remember that the question of what was agreeable or otherwise scarcely entered into a Puritan's motives." " I am not so sure of that," he answered, quickly. " It has ever seemed to me that the good people of MISS WALTON RECOMMENDS A HOBBY. 103 other days went into persecution with a zeal that abstract right can hardly account for. People will have their excitements, and a good rousing persecu- tion used to stir things like the burning of Chicago or a Presidential election in our day." "Granting," said Annie, "the bigotry and cruelty of the persecutor, — and these must be mainly charged to the age, — still you must admit that among them were earnest men who did from good motives what appears very wrong to us. What seemed to them evil and destructive principles were embodied in men and women, and they meant to destroy the evil through the suffering and death of these poor creatures." " And then consider the simplicity and ease of the persecutor's method," continued Gregory, mock- ingly. " A man's head has become full of supposed doctrinal errors. To refute and banish these would require much study and argument on the part of the opponent. It was so much easier to take an obsti- nate heretic's head off than to argue with him ! I think it was the simplicity of the persecutor's method that kept it in favor so long." " But it never convinced any one," said Annie, " and the man killed merely goes into another world of the same opinion still." "And there probably learns, poor fellow, that both were wrong, and that- he had better have been content with good dinners and a quiet life, and let theology alone." " The world would move but slowly, if all men 104 OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. were content with 'good dinners and a quiet life,' " said Annie, satirically. " But you have not answered my question. Could not good; earnest men have been very cruel, believing that everything depended on their uprooting some evil of their day ? " " To tell the truth, Miss Walton," he replied, a lit- tle nettled, " I have no sympathy with that style of men. To me they are very repulsive and ridiculous. They remind me of the breathless, perspiring politi- cians of our time, who button-hole you and assert that the world will come to an end unless John Smith is elected. To me, the desperate earnestness of people who imagine it, their mission, to set the; world right is excessively tiresome. For one man or a thousand to proclaim that they speak for God and. embody truth, and, that the race should- listen and obey, is the absurdity of arrogance." " If we were to agree with you, should: we not have to say that the prophets should have kept their vis- ions to themselves, and that Luther should have remained in his cell^ and Columbus have coasted alongshore and not insisted on what was. to all the -world an absurdity ? " "Come, Miss Walton," said Gregory, with a vexed laugh as they- rose from the table, " you are a witch. I am willing to argue with flesh and blood, but I would rather hear you sing. Still, since you have swept away these clouds so I can have my ramble, I will: forgive you for unhorsing me in our recent tilt." " If you would mount some good honest hobby and ride it hard, I doubt whether any one could MISS WALTON RECOMMENDS A HOBBY. 105 unhorse you," she replied in a low tone, as she accom- panied him to the parlor. " Men with hobbies are my detestation, Miss Wal- ton." " Nevertheless, they are the true knights-errant of our age. Of course it depends upon what kind of hobbies they ride, or whether they can manage their steeds." " Miss Walton, your figure suggests a half-idiot, with a narrow forehead and one idea, banging back and forth on a wooden horse, but making no pro- gress, — in other words, a fussy, bustling man who can do and talk but one thing." " Your understanding of the popular phrase is nar- row and literal, and while it may have such a meaning, it can also have a very different one. Suppose that, instead of looking with languid eyes alike upon all things, a man finds some question of vital import, or a pursuit that promises good to himself and to others and that enlists his interest. He comes at last to give it his best energies and thought. The whole current of his life is setting in that direction. Of course he must ever be under the restraints of good sense and refinement. A man's life without a hobby is a weak and wavering line of battle indefinitely long. One's life with a hobby is a concentrated charge." There was in Miss Walton's face and manner, as she uttered these words, that which caused him to regard her with involuntary admiration. Suddenly he asked, " Have you a hobby ? " io6 OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. Her manner changed instantly, and with an arch look she said, " If you detest a man with a hobby, what a monster a woman with one would be in your eyes ! " " I have admitted that you are a witch." "Oh, I am a monster already, and so have no character to lose. But where is your penetration? If a man with a hobby is idiotic, narrow-browed, fussy and bustling, excessively obtrusive with his one idea, a woman must be like him with all these things exaggerated. Has it not occurred to you that I have a hobby of the most wooden and clumsy order?" " But that was my idea of a hobby. You have spiritualized my wooden block into a Pegasus — the symbol of inspiration. Have you such a hobby ? " " I have." "What is it?" She went out of the room, saying smilingly over her shoulder, "You must find that out for yourself." CHAPTER X. A PLOT AGAINST MISS WALTON. GREGORY was soon off for his ramble. The storm had cleared away, leaving the air so warm and geniaj as to suggest spring rather than fall ; but he was quite oblivious of the outer world, and familiar scenes had not the power to awaken either pleasant or painful associations. He was try- ing to account for the influence that Annie Walton had suddenly gained over him, but it was beyond his philosophy. This provoked him. His cool, worldly nature doubted everything and especially everybody. He believed in the inherent weakness of humanity, and that if people were exceptionally good it was because they had been exceptionally fortunate in escaping temptation. He also had a cynical pleasure in seeing such people tripping and stumbling, so that he might say in self-excusing, "We are all alike." And yet he was compelled to admit that if Annie's goodness was seeming it was higher art than he had known before. There was also an unconscious asser- tion of superiority in her manner that he did not like. True, things had turned out far better than Io8 OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. he had expected. There was no cant about her. She did not lecture him or " talk religion " in what he regarded as the stereotyped way, and he was sure she would not, even if they became better acquainted. But there is that in genuine goodness and nobility of character that always humiliates the bad and makes them feel their degradation. A real pity and sympathy for him tinged her manner, but these qualities are not agreeable to pride. And it most be admitted that she had a little self-righteous satisfaction that she was so much better than this sadly robbed and wounded man suddenly appearing at the wayside of her life. In human strength there is generally a trace of arrogance. Only divine strength and purity can say with perfect love and full allowance for all weakness and adverse influ- ences, " Neither do I condemn thee ; go, and sin no more." Gregory had now reached a rustic bridge across a little stream that, swollen from the recent rain, came gurgling and clamoring down from the hills. Leaning upon the rail he seemed to watch the foam- ing water glide under his feet ; but the outward vis- ion made no impression on his mind. At last in the consciousness of solitude he said : "She told me I must find her out. f will. I will know whether she is as free from human frailty as she seems. I have little doubt that before many days I can cause her to show all the inherent weak- nesses of her sex ; and I should think New York and Paris had taught me what they are. She has never A PLOT AGAINST MISS IVALTON. 109 been tempted. She has never been subjected to the delicate flattery of an accomplished man of the world. I am no gross libertine. I could not be in this place. I could not so wrong hospitality and the household of my father's friend. But I should like to prove to that girl her delusion, and show her that she is a weak woman like the rest ; that she is a pretty painted ship that has never been in a storm, and therefore need not sail so confidently.' We all start on the voyage of life as little skiffs and pleasure boats might cross the ocean. If any get safely over, it is because they were lucky enough not to meet danger- ous currents or rough weather. I should like her better with her piquant ways if she were more like myself. Saints and Madonnas are well enough in pictures, but such as I would find them very uncom- fortable society." With sudden power the thought flashed upon him, " Why not let her make you as she is ? " Where did the thought come from? Tell me not that the Divine Father forgets His children. He is speaking to them continually, only they will not hear. There was a brief passionate wish on the part of this bad man that she might be what she seemed and that he could become like her. As the turbulent, muddy Jordan divided that God's people might pass through, so this thought from heaven found passage through his heart, and then the current of sinful impulse and habit flowed on as before. With the stupidity of evil he was breaking the clew that God had dropped into his hand even when desperately weary of his no OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. lost state. He is wrecked and helpless on the wide ocean ; a ship is coming to his rescue ; and his first effort is that this vessel also may be wrecked or greatly injured in the attempt. There is no insanity like that of a perverted heart. The adversary of souls has so many human victims doing his work that he can fold his hands in idle- ness. And yet according to the world's practice, and we might almost say its code, Gregory purposed nothing that would be severely condemned, — noth- ing more than an ordinary flirtation, as common in society as idleness, love of excitement, and that power over others which ministers to vanity. He had no wish to be able to say anything worse of her than that under temptation she would be as vain and heartless a coquette as many others that he knew in what is regarded as good society. He would have cut off his right hand, as he then felt, rather than have sought to lead her into gross sin. And yet what did Gregory purpose in regard to Annie but to- take the heavenly bloom and beauty from her character? As if they can be lovely to either God or man of whom it can be said only, They commit no overt crime. What is the form of a rose without its beauty and fragrance ? They who tempt to evil are the real iconoclasts. They destroy God's image. But the supreme question of the selfish heart i.s, " What do I want now f " Gregory wished to satisfy himself and Miss Walton that she had no grounds for claiming any special A PLOT AGAINST MISS WALTON. iii superiority over him, and he turned on his heel and went back to the house to carry out his purpose. Nature, purified and beautiful by reason of its recent baptism from heaven, had no attractions for him. Gems of moisture sparkled unseen. He was plan- ning and scheming to turn her head with vanity, make her quiet life of ministry to others odious, and draw her into a fashionable flirtation. Annie did not appear until the supper-bell sum- moned her, and then said, " Mr. Gregory, I hope you will not think it rude if father and I leave you to your books and Aunt Eulie's care this evening. It is our church prayer-meeting night, and father never likes to be absent." " I shall miss you beyond measure. The evening will seem an age." Something in his tone caused her to give him a quick glance, but she only said, with a smile, " You are very polite to say so, but I imagine the last magazine will be a good substitute." " I doubt whether there is a substitute for you, Miss Walton. I am coming to believe that your absence would make that vacuum which nature so dreads. You shall see how good I will be this even- ing, and you shall read me everything you please, even to that ' Ancient Ecclesiastical History.' If you will only stay I will be your slave; and you shall rule me with a rod of iron or draw me with the silken cords of kindness, according to your mood." " It is not well to have too many moods, Mr. 112 OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. Gregory," said Annie, quietly. "In reply to all your alluring reasons for staying at home I have only to sa!y that I have promised father to go with him ; besides, I think it is my duty to go." " ' Duty ' is a harsh, troublesome word to be always quoting. It is a kind of strait-jacket which we poor moral lunatics are compelled to wear." " ' Duty ' seems to me a good solid road on which one may travel safely. One never knows where the side paths lead : into the brambles or a morass like enough." " Indeed, Miss Walton, such austerity is not becoming to your youth and beauty." " What am I to think of your sincerity when you speak of my beauty, Mr. Gregory?" "Beauty is a question of taste," answered Greg- ory, gallantly. " It is settled by no rigid rules or principles, but by the eyes of the observer." " Oh ! I understand now. My beauty this even- ing is the result of youi bad taste." " Calling it 'bad ' does not make it so. Well, since you will not remain at home with me, will you not let me go with you to the prayer-meeting? If I'm ever to join your church, it is time I entered on the initiating mysteries." " I think a book will do you more good in your present mood." '.' What a low estimate you make of the ' means of grace' ! Why, certain of your own poets. have said, 'And fools who came to scoff remained to pray.' " " The quotation does not apply to you, Mr. Greg- A /^ZOT ,'x2AINST MISS WALTON. 113 ^rf. For, e.ven if >ou can doubt the power and Uuth of Christianity the menaory of your childhood will prevent you from scoffing at it." A sudden shadow came across his face, but after a moment he said, in his old tones : " Will you not let me go to the prayer-meeting ? " " Father will be glad to have you go with us, if you thinic it prudent to venture out in the night air." "Prudence to the dogs! What is the use of living if we cannot do as we please ? But will you be glad to have me go ! " " That depends upon your motives." " If I should confess you wouldn't let me go," he replied with a bow. " But I will try to be as good as possible, just to reward your kindness." The rest of the family now joined them in the supper-room, and during the meal Walter exerted himself to show how entertaining he could be if he chose. Anecdotes, incidents of trayel, graphic sketches of society, and sallies lyf wit, made an hour pass before any one was aware. Even the children listened with wondering eyes, and Mr. Walton and Miss Eulie were delighted with the vivacity of their guest. Annie apparently had no reason to complain of him, for his whole manner toward her during the hour was that of deli- cately sustained compliment. When she spoke he listened with deference, and her words usually had point and meaning. He also gave to her remarks the best interpretation of vyhich they were capable, 114 OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. and by skilfully drawing her out made her surpass even herself, so that Miss Eulie said, " Why, Annie, there surely is some witchcraft about. You and Mr. Gregory are as brilliant as fireworks." " It's all Miss Walton's work, I assure you," said Gregory. " As Pat declared, ' I'm not meself any more,' and shall surprise you, sir, by asking if I may go to the prayer-meeting. Miss Walton says I can if I will behave myself. The last time I went to the old place I made faces at the girls. I suppose that would be wrong." " That is the sin of our age, — making faces," said Annie. " Many have two, and some can make for themselves even more." " Now that was a barbed arrow," said Gregory, looking at her keenly. " Did you let it fly at a venture ? " " Bless me ! " said Mr. Walton, rising Jiastily, "we should have been on the road a quarter of an hour ago. You mustn't be so entertaining another prayer- meeting night, Mr. Gregory. Of course we shall be glad to have you accompany us if you feel well enough. I give you both but five minutes before join- ing me at the wagon." Walter again mounted the stairs with something of his old buoyancy, and Annie followed, looking curiously after him. It was not in human nature to be indifferent to that most skilful flattery which can be addressed to woman, — the recognition of her cleverness, and the enhancing of it by adroit and suggestive questions, — A PLOT AGAINST MISS WALTON. 115 and yet all his manner was tinged by a certain insin- cere gallantry, rather than by a manly, honest re- spect. She vaguely felt this, though she could not distinctly point it out. He puzzled her. What did he mean, and at what was he aiming ? CHAPTER XI. A DRINKING-SONG AT A PRAYER-MEETING. HAVING failed in his attempt to induce Annie to remain at home, Gregory resolved that the prayer-meeting should not be one of quiet devo- tion. Mr. Walton made him, as an invalid, take the back seat with Annie, while he sat with the driver, and Gregory, after a faint show of resistance, gladly complied. " It's chilly. Won't you give me half of your shawl ? " he said to her. "You may have it all," she replied, about to take it off. " No, I'll freeze first. Do the brethren and sisters sit together? " " No," she answered, laughing, " we have got in the queer way of dividing the room between us, and the few men who attend sit on one side and we on the other." " Oh, it's almost a female prayer-meeting then. Do the sisters pray?" " Mr. Gregory, you are not a stranger here that you need pretend to such ignorance. I think the A DRINKING-SONG ATA PR A YER-MEE TING. 1 1 7 meeting is conducted very much as when you were a boy." " With this most interesting difference, that you will be there and will sing, I hope. Miss Walton, where did you learn to sing?" " Mainly at home." " I should think so. Your 'voice is as unlike that of a public singer as you are unlike the singer her- self." " It must seem very tame to you." " It seems very different. We have an artificial- flower department in our store. There is no lack of color and form there, I assure you, but after all I would prefer your rose garden in June." " But you would probably prefer your artificial- flower department the rest of the year," said Annie, -laughing. " Why so ? " " Our roses are annuals and are only prosaic briers after their bloom." " Imagine them hybrid perpetuals and monthlies and you 'have my meaning. But your resemblance to a rose extends even to its thorns. Your words are a little sharp sometimes." " In the thorns the resemblance begins and ends, Mr. Gregory. I assure you I am a veritable Scotch brier. But here we are at our destination. I won- der if you will see many old, remembered faces." " I shall be content in seeing yours," he replied in a low tone, pressing her hand as he assisted her to alight. Il8 OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. If he could have seen the expression of her face in the darkness it would have satisfied him that she did not receive that style of compliment like many of the belles of his acquaintance, who would take the small change of flattery with the smiling compla- cency of a public door-keeper. They were late. The good old pastor was absent, and one of the brethren was reading a chapter in the Bible. Gregory took a seat where he could see Annie plainly, and she sat with her side face toward him. . ' He watched her keenly, in order to see if she showed any consciousness of his presence. The only evidence in his favor was a slight flush and a firmness about the lips, as if her will was asserting itself. But soon her face had the peaceful and seri- ous expression becoming the place and hour, and he saw that she had no thoughts for him whatever. He was determined to distract her attention, and by restlessness, by looking fixedly at her, sought her eye, but only secured the notice of some young girls who thought him " badly smitten with Miss Walton." The long chapter having been read, a hymn was given out. The gentleman who usually led the music was also absent, and there was an ominous pause, in which the good brother's eye wandered appealingly around the room and at last rested hope- fully on Annie. She did not fail him, but, with heightened color and voice that trembled slightly at first, "started the tune." It was a sweet, familiar A DRINKING- SONG AT A PRA YER-MEE TING. 1 1 9 air, and she soon had the support of other voices. One after another they joined her in widely varying degrees of melody, even as the example of a noble life will gradually secure a number of more or less successful imitators. Gregory had seen the appeal to her with an Amused, half comical look, but her sincere and ready performance of the duty that had unexpectedly revealed itself rapidly changed the expression of his face to one of respect and admiration. Distinct, and yet blending with the others, her voice seemed both to key up and hide the little roughnesses and disco/ds of some who perhaps had more melody in their hearts than in their tones. Again a divine impulse, like a flower-laden breeze sweeping into a dark and grated vault at Greenwood, stirred Gregory's evil nature. " Let her teach you the harmony of noble, unself- ish living. Follow her" in thought, feeling, and action, as those stammering, untuned tongues do in melody, and the blight of evil will pass from your life. Seek not to muddy and poison this clear little rill that is watering a bit of God's world. Grant that her goodness is not real, established, and thoroughly tested, — that it is only a pretty surface picture. Seek not to blur that picture." But the evil heart is Hke Sodom. Good angel- thoughts may come to it, but they are treated with violence and driven out. His habit of cynical doubt soon returned, and his purpose to show Miss Wal- ton that she was a weak, vain woman after all be- came stronger than ever. I20 OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. It seemed to have come to this, that his salvation depended on, not what Miss Walton could say or do directly in his behalf, but upon her maintenance of a character that even a sceptical world must acknowledge as inspired by heaven, and this, too, against a tempter of unusual skill and tact. She might sing with resistless pathos, and argue and plead with Paul's logic and eloquence. His nature might be stirred for a moment as a stagnant pool is agitated by the winds of heaven, and, like the pool, he would soon settle back into his old apathy. But if she could be made to show weakness, to stumble and fall, it would confirm him in his belief that goodness, if it really existed, was accidental ; that those whose lives were apparently free from stain deserved no credit, because untempted ; and that those who fell should be pitied rather than blamed, since they were unfortunate rather than guilty. Anything that would quiet and satisfy his conscience in its stern arraignment of his evil life would be welcome. The more he saw of Miss Wal- ton the more he felt that she 'would be a fair subject upon whom to test his favorite theory. Therefore, by the time one of the'brethren present had finished his homely exhortation be was wholly bent upon carrying out his plan. But Miss Walton sat near, as innocently oblivious of this plot against her as Eve of the serpent's guile before the tempter and temptation came into fatal conjunction. What thoughts for and against each other may A DRINKING-SONG AT A PR A YER-MEE TING. 1 2 1 dwell utterly hidden and unknown in the hearts of those so near that their hands may touch ! Con- spiracies to compass the death that is remediless may lurk just behind eyes that smile upon us. Of course Gregory desired no such fatal result to follow his little experiment. Few who for their own pleasure, profit, or caprice tempt others wish the evil to work on to the bitter end. They merely want a sufficient letting down of principle and virtue for the accomplishment of their purpose, and then would prefer that the downward tendency should cease or be reversed. The merchant who requires dishonor- able practices of his clerk wishes him to stop at a point which, in the world's estimation, is safe. And those who, like Gregory, would take the bloom from woman's purity and holiness in thought and action, that they may enjoy a questionable flirtation, would be horrified to see that woman drop into the foul gulf of vice. With the blind egotism of. selfishness, they wish merely to gratify their present inclina- tions, ignoring the consequences. They are like children who think it would be sport to see a little cataract falling over a Holland dike. Therefore, when the tide is in they open a small channel, but are soon aghast to find that the deep sea is over- whelming the land. Gregory, as is usual with his kind, thought only of his own desires. When he had accomplished these Miss Walton must take care of herself. When from seeming a sweet, pure woman she had, by a little temptation, proved to be capable of becoming a vain 122 OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. flirt, he would go back to business and dismiss her from his thoughts with the grim chuckle, " She is like the rest of us." And thus Annie was destined to meet her mother Eve's experience ; and with the energy and prompt- ness of evil Gregory was keenly on the alert for any- thing to further his purpose. It would seem that the satanic ally in such schemes does not permit opportunity to be wanting long. The leader of the meeting again selected a hymn, but of a peculiar metre. He read only two lines, and then looked expectantly toward Annie, who could not at the moment think of a tune that would answer ; and while with knit brows she was bending over her book, to her unbounded surprise she heard the hymn started by a clear, mellow tenor voice. Looking up she saw Gregory singing as gravely as a deacon. She was sufficiently a musician to know that the air did not belong to sacred music, though she had never heard it before. In his watchfulness he had noted her hesitation, and glancing at the metre saw instantly that the measure of a drinking-song he knew well would fit the words. This fell out better than he had hoped, and with the thought, " I will jostle her out of her dignity now," he began singing without any embar- rassment, though every eye was upon him. He had been, out in the world long enough for that. As Annie turned with a shocked and half-fright- ened expression toward him his eyes met hers with a sudden gleam of drollery which was irresistible, and A DRINKING-SONG AT A PR A YER-MEE TING. 1 2 3 he had the satisfaction of seeing her drop her head to conceal a smile. But he noticed, a moment later, that her face became grave with disappro- bation. Having sung a stanza he looked around with an injured air, as if reproaching the others for not joining in with him. " The tune is not exactly familiar to us," said the good man leading the meeting, " but if the brother will continue singing we will soon catch the air ; or perhaps the brother or some one else (with a glance at Annie) will start one better known." Gregory deliberately turned over the leaves, and to the tune of Old Hundred started a hymn com- mencing, " Unveil thy bosom, faithful tomb. Take this new treasure to thy trust, And give these sacred relics room To slumber in the silent dust." Annie had a keen sense of the ludicrous, and the transition from what he had been singing to the funereal and most inappropriate words was almost too much for her. To her impotent anger and self- disgust she felt an hysterical desire to laugh, and only controlled herself by keeping her head down and her lips firmly pressed together during the remainder of the brief service. Even others who did not know Gregory could not prevent a broad smile at the incongruous hymn he had chosen, but they unitedly wailed it through, for he persisted in singing it all in the most 124 OPENING A CHESTNUT BXJRR. dirge-like manner. They gave him credit for doing the best he could, and supposed his unhappy choice resulted from haste and embarrassment. In the spontaneity of social meetings people become accustomed to much that is not harmonious. Mr. Walton was puzzled. His guest was certainly appearing in an unexpected rdle, and he feared that all was not right. After the meeting the brethren gathered round Gregory and thanked him for his assistance, aftd hfe shook hands with them and the elderly ladies present with the manner of one who might have been a " pillar in the temple." Many of them remembered his father and mother and supposed their mantle had fallen on him. An ancient " mother in Israel " thanked him that he had " started a tune that they all could sing, instead of the new-fangled ones the young people are always getting up nowadays. But," said she, " I wish you could learn us that pretty one you first sang, for it took my fancy amazingly. I think I must have heard it before somewhere." Gregory gave Annie another of his suggestive glances, that sent her out hastily into the darkness, and a moment later he joined her at the carriage steps. CHAPTER XII. FOILED IN ONE DIRECTION. GREGORY lifted Miss Walton very tenderly into the carriage and took his place by her side, while her father was^ detained by some little matter of business. " I am not an invalid," said Annie, rather curtly. " Indeed you are not, Miss Walton ; from your superabundance you are even giving life to, me." " I thought from your manner you feared 1 was about to faint," she answered, dryly. Mr. Walton joined them and they started home- ward. " Come, Miss Annie," said Gregory (addressing her thus for the first time) ; " why so distant ? Was I not called a brother in the meeting ? If I am a brother you are a sister. I told you I would secure this relationship." She did not answer him. " I think it was too bad," he continued, " that you did not second my efforts better. You would not help me sing either of the tunes I started." " Mr. Gregory," said Annie, emphatically, " I will never go to a prayer-meeting with you again." 126 OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. " What a rash resolve ! But I confess that I pre- ferred to have you stay at home with me." "You have spoiled the whole evening for me." "And you spoiled mine. So we are quits," he replied, laughingly. " No, we are not. How can you turn sacred things into a jest ? " " I was possessed to see a smile light up the awful gravity of your face, and I feel amply repaid in that I succeeded. It was a delicious bit of sun- shine on a cloudy day." " And I am provoked at myself beyond measure, that I could have laughed like a silly child." " But did you not like the first tune I sang ? ' Old Hundred ' was selected in deference to the wishes of the meeting." " No, I did not like it. It was not suitable to the place and words. Though I never heard it before, its somewhat slow movement did not prevent it from smacking of something very foreign to a prayer-meeting." " A most happy and inspired expression. Many a time I have smacked my lips when it was being sung over the best of wine." "Was it a drinking-song, then?" she asked, quickly. "What will you do with me if I say it was?" "Mr. Gregory, I would not have thought this even of you." " Even of me ! That is complimentary. I now learn what a low estimate you have of me. But see FOILED IN ONE DIRECTION. ■i.'i^ how unjust you are. The musical commissaries of the church militant are ever saying, ' It's a pity the devil should have all the good music,' and so half the Sunday-school tunes, and many sung in churches, have had a lower origin than my drinking-song. I assure you that the words are as fine as the air. Why have I not as good a right to steal a tune from the devil as the rest of them ? " " It's the motive that makes all the difference," said Annie. " But I fear that in this case the devil suffered no loss." " I'm sure my motive was not bad. I only wished to see a bonny smile light up your face." Before she could reply the carriage stopped at Mr. Walton's door, and with Mr. Gregory she passed into the cosey parlor. Her father did not immediately join them. As Gregory looked at her while she took off her wraps, he thought, "By Jove! she's handsome if she is not pretty." In fact Annie's face at that time would have at- tracted attention anywhere. The crisp air had given her a fine color. .Her eyes glowed with suppressed excitement and anger, while the firm lines about the mouth indicated that when she spoke it would be decidedly. In spite of herself the audacity, clever- ness, and wickedness of this stranger had affected her greatly. As he threw off his moodiness, as he revealed himself by word and action, she saw that he was no ordinary character, but a thorough man of the world, and with some strange caprices. The 128 OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. suspicion crossed her mind that he might be not only in peril himself but also a source of danger. She had determined during the ride home that even, though he meant no slur upon sacred things he. should carry his mocking spirit no more into them. Therefore, after a moment's thought, she turned tOT ward him with a manner of mingled frankness and- dignity, and said, " Mr. Gregory, I regret what has occurred this evening. I have a painful sense of the ludicrous, and you have taken unfair advantage of it, I am usually better and happier for going to our simple little meeting, but now I can think of the whole hour only with pain. I think I am as mirth- loving as the majority of my age, and perhaps more so. I say truly that my heart is very light and happy. But, Mr. Gregory, we look at certain things very differently from you. While I would not for a moment have you think that religion brings into my life gloom and, restraint, — quite the reverse, — still it gives me great pain when anything connected with my faith is made a matter of jest. These things are sacred to us, and I know my father would feel, deeply grieved if he understood you this evening. Do you not see ? It appears to us differently from what it does to you and perhaps to the world at large. These things are to us what your mother's, memory is to you. I would sooner cut off my right hand than trifle with that." Gregory had been able to maintain his quizzical look of mischief till she named his mother ; then his face changed instantly. A flush of shame crossed it, FOILED IN ONE DIRECTION. 129 and after a moment, with an expression sotnething like true manhood, he stepped forward and took Annie's hand, saying, " Miss Walton, I sincerely ask your pardon. I did hot know — I could not believe that you felt as you do. I will give you no further reason to complain of me on this ground. I hope you will forgive me." She at once relented, and said: " ' Who by repentance is not satisfied / Is not of heaven nor earth.' There is an apt quotation from your favorite Shake- speare.'* " You seem a delightful mixture of both. Miss Walton." " If you were a better judge, siir, you would know that the earthly ingredient is too great. But that is in your favor, for I arA sufficiently human to make allowance for human folly." " I shall tax your charity to the utmost." As Gregory sat in his arm-chair recalling the events of the day before retiring, he thought : " Well, my attempt has failed signally. While by her involun- tary smile she showed that she was human, she has also matiaged this evening to prove that she is per- fectly sincere in her religion, and to render it im- possible for me to assail her in that direction again. As the old hymn goes, I mlist ' let her religious hours alone.' But how far her religion or superstition will control her action is another question. I have learned both at home and abroad that people can be very religious and very sincere in, matters of faith 13° OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. and ceremony, and jealous of any hand stretched out to touch their sacred ark, but when through with the holy business they can live the life of very ordinary mortals. This may be true of Miss Walton. At any rate I have made a mistake in showing my hand somewhat at a prayer-meeting, for women are so tenacious on religious matters. Deference, personal attention, and compliments, — these are the irresistible weapons. These inflate pride and vanity to such a degree that a miser- able collapse is necessary. And yet I must be careful, for she is not like some belles I know, who have the swallow of a whale for flattery. She is too intelligent, too refined, to take compli- ments as large and glaring as a sunflower. Some- thing in the way of a moss-rose bud will accom- plish more. I will appear as if falling under her power ; as if bewitched by her charms. Nothing pleases your plain girls more than to be thought beautiful. I shall have her head turned in a week. I am more bent than ever on teaching this little Puritan that she and I live upon the same level." Saturday morning dawned clear and bracing, and the grass was white with hoar frost. The children came in to breakfast with glowing cheeks and hair awry, crying excitedly in the same breath that they " had been to the chestnut trees and that Jack had opened the burrs all night." In answer to their clamorous petitions a one- o'clock dinner was promised, and Aunt Annie was to accompany them on a nutting expedition with Jeff as pioneer to thresh and club the trees. FOILED IN ONE DIRECTION. 131 "Can I go too?" Gregory asked of the children. "I suppose so," said Johnny, rather coldly; "if Aunt Annie is willing." "You can go with me," said kind-hearted, little Susie " Now I can go whether Aunt Annie is willing or not," said Gregory, with mock defiance at the boy. He glanced at his aunt's face to gather how he should take this, but she settled the matter satis- factorily to him by saying, " You shall be my beau, and Mr. Gregory will be Susie's." "Good, good!" exclaimed Susie. "I've got a beau already ; " and she beamed upon Gregory in a way that made them all laugh. " ' Coming events cast their shadows before,' you perceive, Miss Walton," said he, meaningly. " Sometimes the events themselves are but shadows," she replied, dryly. " Now that is severe upon the beaux. How about the belles ? " he asked, quickly. " I have nothing to say against my own sex, sir." " That is not fair. Of course I can say nothing adverse." " If you should say what you think, I fear we should be little inclined to cry with Shylock, 'A Daniel come to judgment ! ' " " You have a dreadful opinion of me. Miss Wal- ton. I wish you would teach me how I can change it." "You discovered so much in a chestnut burr the day you came I should not be surprised if you 132 OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. could find anything else there that you wish to know." " I shall not look in burrs for chestnuts this aftet, noon, but for something else far more important." Gregory spent the forenoon quietly in his own room reading, in order that he might have all the vigor possible for the ramble. And to Annie, as housekeeper, Saturday morning brought many duties. By two o'clock the nutting expedition was organ- ized, and with Jeff in advance, carrying a short ladder and a long limber pole, the party started for the hills. At first Johnny, oppressed with his dignity as Aunt Annie's " beau," stalked soberly at her side, and Susie also claimed Gregory according to agreement, and insisted on keeping hold of his hand. He submitted with such grace as he could muster, for children were tiresome to him, and he wanted to talk to Miss Walton, without " little pitchers with large ears " around. Annie smiled to herself at his half-concealed annoyance and his wooden gallantry to Susie, but she understood child life well enough to know that the present arrangement would not last very long. And she was right. They had hardly entered the shady lane leading to the trees before a chipmonk, with its shrill note of exclamation at unexpected company, started out from some leaves near and ran for its hole. Away went Aunt Annie's beau after it, and Susie FOILED IN ONE DIRECTION. 133 also, quite oblivious of her first possession in that line, joined in the pursuit. There was an excited consultation above the squirrel's retreat, and then Johnny took out his knife and cut a flexible rod with which to investigate the " robber's den." Gregory at once joined Annie, saying, " Since the beau of your choice has deserted you, will you accept of another? " "Yes, till he proves alike inconstant." " I will see to that. A burr shall be my emblem." " Or I do," she added, laughing. " Now the future is beyond my power." " Perhaps it is anyway. Johnny was bent upon being a true knight. You may see something that will be to you what the chipmonk was to him." "And such is your opinion 'of man's constancy? Miss Walton, you are more of a cynic than I am." " Indeed ! Do women dwell in your fancy as fixed stars ? " " Fixed stars are all suns, are they not ? I know of one with wonderful powers of attraction," said he, with a significant glance. " Does she live in New York ? " quietly asked Annie. " You know well she does not. She is a votaress of nature, and, as I said, I shall search in every burr for the hidden clew to her favor." " You had better look for chestnuts, sir." "Chestnuts! Fit food for children and chip- monks. I am in quest of the only manna that ever fell from heaven. Have you read Longfellow's 'Golden Legend,' Miss Walton?" 134 OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. " Yes," she replied, with a slight contraction of the brow as if the suggestion were not pleasing. The children now came running toward them and wished to resume their old places. " No, sir," said Walter, decisively. "You deserted your lady's side and your place is filled ; and Susie, — ' Thou fair, false one," — you renounced me for a chipmonk. My wounded heart has found solace in another." Johnny received this charge against his gallantry with a red face and eyes that began to dilate with anger, while Susielooked at Gregory poutingly and said, " I don't like big beaux. I think chipmonks are ever so much nicer." The laugh that followed broke the force of the storm that was brewing ; and Annie, by saying," See, children, Jeff is climbing the tree on top of the hill ; I wonder who will get the first nuts," caused the wind to veer round from the threatening quarter, and away they scampered with grievances all for- gotten. " If grown-up children could only forget their troubles as easily I " sighed Gregory. " Miss Walton, you are gifted with admirable tact. Your witchery has cleared up another storm." " They have not forgotten," said Annie, ignoring the compliment, — " they have only been diverted from their trouble. Children caft do by nature what we should from intelligent choice, — turn away the mind from painful subjects to those that are pleas- FOILED JN ONE DIRECTION. 13S ing. You don't catch me brooding over trouble when there are a thousand pleasant things to think of." " That is easier said than done, Miss Walton. I read on your smooth brow that you have had few serious troubles, and, as you say, '•you have a thou- sand pleasant things to think of.' But with others it may be very different. Some troubles have a terrible magnetism that draws the mind back to them as if by a malign spell, and there are no ' pleasant things to think of." " " No ' pleasant things ' ? Why, Mr. Gregory ! The universe is very wide." " Present company excepted," replied he gal- lantly. " But what do I care for the universe ? As you say, it is ' very wide ' — a big, uncomfortable place, in which one is afraid of getting lost." " I am not," said Annie, gently. "How so?" " It's all my Father's house. I am never for a moment lost sight of. Wherever I am, I am like a little child playing outside the door while its mother, unseen, is watching it from the window." He looked at her keenly to see if she were per- fectly sincere. Her face had the expression of a child, and the thought flashed across him, "If she is so watched and guarded, how vain are my attempts ! " But he only said with a shrug, " It would be a pity to dissipate your happy superstition, Miss Walton, but after what I have seen and experienced in the world it would seem more generally true that the mother 136 OPENING A CHESl'NUT SURR. forgot her charge, left the window, and the child was run over by the butcher's cart." " Do you think it vain confidence," said Annie, earnestly, " when I say that you could not dissipate what you term my ' superstition,' any more than you could argue me out of my belief in my good old father's love ? " CHAPTER XIII. INTERPRETING CHESTNUT BURRS. THE conversation had taken a turn that Gregory- wished to avoid, so he said : " Miss Walton, you regard me as wretched authority on theology, and therefore my opinions will go for nothing. Sup- pose we join the children on the hill, for I am most anxious to commence the search for the cleW|to your favor. Give me your hand, that as your attendant I may at least appear to assist you in climbing, though I suppbse you justly think you could help me more than I can you." " And if I can, why should I not ? " asked Annie, kindly. "Indeed, Miss Walton, I would crawl up first. But thanks to your reviving influences, I am not so far gone as that." " Then you would not permit a woman to reach out a helping hand to you ? Talk not against Turks and Arabs. How do Christian men regard us ? " " But you look upon me as a ' heathen..' " "Beg your pardon, I do not." " Miss Walton, give your honest opinion of me — just what you think." 138 OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. " Will you do the same of me ? " "Oh, certainly! " " No, do not answer in that tone. On your honor." Gregory was now caught. If he agreed he must state his doubts of her real goodness ; his low esti- mate of women in general which led to his purpose to tempt her. This would not only arm her against his efforts, but place him in a very unpleasant light. "I beat a retreat. Miss Walton. I am satisfied that your opinion would discourage me utterly." " You need have no fears of that kind," she said ; " although my opinion would not be flattering it would be most encouraging." " No, Miss Walton, I am not to be caught. My every glance and word reveal my opinion of you, while yours of me amounts to what I used to hear years ago : ' You are a bad boy now, but may become a good one.' Come, give me your hand." As she complied she gave him a quick, keen look. Her intuition told her of something hidden, and he puzzled her. Her hand was ungloved, and he thought, " When have I clasped such a hand before ? It could help a Hercules. At any rate he would like to hold it, for it is alive." There is as much diversity of character in hands as in faces. Some are very white and shapely, and a diamond flashes prettily upon them, but having said this you have said all. Others suggest honest work and plenty of it, and for such the sensible will INTERPRETING CHESTNUT BURRS, 1 39 ever have a genuine respect. There are some hands that make you think of creatures whose blood is cold. A lady's hand in society often suggests feeble- ness, lack of vitality. It is a thing to touch deco- rously, and if feeling betray you into giving a hearty grasp and pressure, you find that you are only caus- ing pain and reducing the member to a confused jumble of bones and sinews. There are hands that suggest fancy-work, light crochet needles, and neu- ralgia. Annie's hand was not one that a sculptor would care to copy, though he would find no great fault with it ; but a sculptor would certainly take pleasure in shaking hands with her, — the pleasure that is the opposite of our shrinking from taking the hand of the dead. It was soft and delicate to the pressure, and yet firm. It reminded one of silk drawn over steel, and was all electric and throbbing with life. You felt that it could give you the true grasp of friendship, — that it had power to do more than barely cling to something.^that it could both help and sustain, yet its touch would be gentleness itself beside the couch of suffering. When they had reached the brow of the hill he was much more exhausted than she, and sat down panting. " Miss Walton," he asked, " do you not despise a feeble man ? " " What kind of feebleness do you mean ? " " The weakness that makes me sit pale and pant- ing here, while you stand there glowing with life and vigor, a veritable Hebe." 1.40 OPENING A CHESTNUT BUliR. " All your compliments cannot balance that impu- tation against me. Such weakness awakens my pity, sympathy, and wish to help." " Ah ! the emotions you would bestow on a beg- gar, — very agreeable to a tnan. Well, what kind of feebleness do you despise ? " " I think I should despise a feeble, vacillating Hercules most of all, — a burly, assuming sort of person, who could be made a tool of, and led to do what he knew to be mean and wrong." " You must despise a great many people then." " No, I do not. Honestly, Mr. Gregory, I have no right to despise any one. I was only giving the reverse of my ideal man. But I assure you I share too deeply in humanity's faults to be very critical." " I am delighted to hear, Miss Walton, that you share in our fallen humanity, for I was beginning to doubt it, and you can well understand that I should be dreadfully uncomfortable in the presence of per- fection." "If you could escape all other sources of discom- fort as surely as this one, you would be most happy," replied Annie, with heightened color. " I shall ever think you are satirical when you speak in such style." "A truce. Miss Walton; only, in mercy to my poor mortality, be as human as you can. Though you seem to suspect me of a low estimate of your sex, I much prefer women to saints and Madonnas. I am going to look for the burr." This was adroitness itself on the part of Gregory, INTERPRETING CHESTNUT BURRS. 141 for, of all things, sensible Annie, conscious of faults and many struggles, did not wish to give the impres- sion that she thought herself approaching perfection. And yet he had managed to make her sensitive on that point, and given her a strong motive to relax strict rules of duty, and act " like other people," as he would say. Jeff's limber pole was now doing effective service. With many a soft thud upon the sward and leaves the burrs rained around, while the detached chest- nuts rattled down like hail. The children were careering about this little tempest of Jeff's manufac- ture in a state of wild glee, dodging the random burrs, and snatching what nuts they could in safety on the outskirts of the prickly shower. At last the tree was well thrashed, and had the appearance of a school-boy bully who, after bristling with threats and boasts for a long time, suddenly meets his master and is left in a very meek and plucked condition. But the moment Jeff's pole ceased its sturdy strokes_ there was a rush for the spoils, the children awakening the echoes with their exclamations of delight as they found the ground covered with what was more precious to them than gold. Even Greg- . ory's sluggish pulses tingled and quickened at the well-remembered scene, and he felt a little of their excitement. For the moment he determined to be a boy again, and running into the charmed circle, picked away as fast as any of them till his physical weakness painfully reminded him that his old tireless activity ha^d passed away, perhaps forever. 142 OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. He leaned against the trunk of the tree and noted with something of an artist's eye the pretty picture. The valley beneath was beginning to glow with the richest October tints, in the midst of which was his old home, that to his affection seemed like a gem set in gold, ruby, and emerald. The stream appeared white and silvery as seen through openings of the bordering trees, and in the distance the purple haze and mountains blended together, leaving it uncer- tain where the granite began, as in Gregory's mind fact and fancy were confusedly mingling in regard to Miss Walton. And he soon turned from even that loved and beautiful landscape to her as an object of piquant interest, and the pleasure of analyzing and testing her character, and — well, some hidden fascination of her own, caused a faint stir of excitement at his heart, even as the October air and exercise had just tinged his pale cheeks. But Miss Walton reminded him of a young sugar maple that he had noticed, all aflame, from his win- dow that morning, so rich and high was her color, as, still intent upon the thickly scattered nuts, she followed the old unspent childish impulse to gather now as she had done when of Susie's age. With a half-wondering smile Gregory watched her intent expression, so like that of the other children, and thought, " Well, she is the freshest and most unhackneyed girl I have ever met for one who knows so much. It seems true, as she said, that she draws her life from nature and will never grow old. Now INTERPRETING CHESTNUT BURRS. 143 she is a child with those children, looking and acting like them. A moment later she will be a self-pos- sessed young lady, with a quick, trained intellect that I can scarcely cope with. And yet in each and every character she seems so real and vital that even I, in spite of myself, feel compelled to admit her truth. Her life is like a glad, musical mountain stream, while I am a stagnant pool that she passes and leaves behind. I wonder if it is possible for one life to be awakened and quickened by another. I wonder if her vital force would be strong enough to drag another on who had almost lost the power to follow. It is said that young fresh blood can be infused directly into the veins of the old and feeble. Can the same be true of moral forces, and a glad zest and interest in life be breathed into the jaded, cloyed, ennui-cursed spirit of one who regards exist- ence with dull eye, sluggish pulse^ and heart of lead ? It seems to me that if any one could have such power it would be that girl there with her intense vitality and subtle connection with nature, which, as she says, is ever young and vigorous. And yet I pro- pose to reveal her to herself as a weak, vain creature, whose fair seeming like a pasteboard castle falls before the breath of flattery. . By Jove, I half hope I shan't succeed, and yet to satisfy myself I shall carry the test to the utmost liniit." In her absorbed search for nuts, Annie had approached the trunk of the tree, and was stooping almost at Gregory's feet without noticing him. Suddenly she turned up a burr whose appearance so 144 OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. interested her that she stood up to examine it, and the,n became conscious of his intent gaze., " There you stand," she said, " cool and superior, criticising and laughing at me as a great overgrown child." "If you had looked more closely you would have seen anything rather than cool criticism in my face. I wish you could tell me your secret. Miss Walton. What is your hidden connection with Nature, that her strong, beautiful life flows so freely into yours?" "You would not believe me if I told you."' " Indeed, Miss Walton, I should be inclined to believe anything you told me, you seem so real. But, pardon me, you have in your hand the very burr I have been looking vainly for. Perhaps in it I may find the coveted clew to your favor. It may winningly suggest to you my meaning, while plain, bald words would only repel. If I could only inter- pret Nature as you breathe her spirit I might find that the autumn leaves were like illuminated pages, and every object — even such an insignificant one as this burr — an inspired illustration. When men come to read Nature's open book, publishers may despair. If I wished to tell you how I would dwell in your thoughts, what poet has written anything equal to this half-open burr? It portrays our past, it gives our present relations, and suggests the future ; only, like all parables, it must not be pressed too far, and too much prominence must not be given to some mere detail. These prickly outward pointing spines represent the reserve and formality which keep 50m- IN TERPRE TING CHES TNUT B URRS. 1 45 parative strangers apart. But now the burr is half- open, revealing its heart of silk and down. So if one could get past the barriers which you, alike with ail, turn toward an indifferent or unfriendly world, a kindliness would be found that would surround a cherished friend as these silken sides envelop this sole and favored chestnut. Again, note that the burr is half-open, indicating, I hope, the progress we have made toward such friendship. I have no true friend in the wide world that I can trust, and I would like to believe that your regard, like this burr, is opening toward me. The final suggestion that I should draw may seem selfish, and yet is it not natural? This chestnut dwells alone in the very centre of the burr. We do not like to share a supreme friendship. There are some in whose esteem we wouid be first." When Gregory finished he was half-frightened at his words, for in developing his fanciful parallel in the bold style of gallantry he had learned to employ toward the belles of the ball-room, and from a cer- tain unaccountable fascination that Annie herself had for him, he had said more than he meant. " Good heavens ! " he thought, " if she should take this for a declaration and accept me on the spot, I should then be in the worst scrape of my sorry life." Miss Walton's manner rather puzzled him. Her heightened color and quickened breathing were alarming, while the contraction of her brow and the firinness of her lips, together with an intent look on 146 OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. the chestnut in the centre of the burr, rather than a languishing look at him or at nothing, were more assuring. She perplexed him still more when, as her only response to all this sentiment, she asked, " Mr. Gregory, will you lend me your penknife ? " Without a word he handed it to her, and she at the same time took the burr from his hand, and daintily plucking out the chestnut tossed the burr rather contemptuously away. " Mr. Gregory, if I understand your rather far-fetched and forced inter- pretation of this little ' parable of nature,' you chose to represent yourself by this great lonely chestnut occupying the space where three might have grown. On observing this emblematic nut closely I detect something that may also have a place in your 'parable' ; " and she pushed aside the little quirl at the small end of the nut, which partfally concealed a worm-hole, and cutting through the shell showed the destroyer in the very heart of the kernel. There was nothing far-fetched in this suggestion of nature, and he saw — and he understood that Miss Walton saw — evil enthroned in the very depths of his soul. The revelation of the hateful truth was so sudden and sharp that his face darkened with invol- untary pain and anger. It seemed to him that, by the simple act of showing him the worm-infested chestnut, she had rejected anything approaching even friendship, and had also given him a good but humiliating reason why. He lost his self-possession and forgot that he deserved a stinging rebuke for his insincerity. He would have turned away in cold- INTERPRETING CHESTNUT BURRS. 147 ness and resentment. His visit might have come to an abrupt termination, had not Annie, with that delicate, womanly tact which was one of her most marked characteristics, interrupted him as he was about to say something to the effect, " Miss Wal- ton, since you are so much holier than I, it were better that I should contaminate the air you breathe no longer." She looked into his clouded face with an open smile, and said, " Mr. Gregory, yop have been unfor- tunate in the choice of a burr. Now let me choose for you ; " and she began looking around for one suited to her taste and purpose. This gave him time to recover himself and to realize the folly of quarrelling or showing any special feeling in the matter. After a moment he was only desirous of some pretext for laughing it off, but how to manage it he did not know, and was inwardly cursing himself as a blundering fool, and no match for this child of nature. Annie soon came toward him, saying, " Perhaps this burr will suggest better meanings. You see it is wide open. That means perfect frankness. There are three chestnuts here instead of one. We must be willing to share the regard of others. One of these nuts has the central place. As we come to know people well, we usually find some one occupy- ing the supreme place in their esteem, and though we may approach closely we should not wish to usurp what belongs to another. Under Jeff's vigor- ous blows the burr and its contents have had a tre- 148 OPENING A CHESTNUT BUliR. mendous downfall, but they have not parted company. True friends should stick together in adversity. What do you think of my interpretation ? " ■< "I think you are a witch, beyond doubt, and if you had lived a few centuries ago, you would have been sent to heaven in a chariot of fire." " Really, Mr. Gregory, you give me a hot answer, but it is with such a smiling face that I will take no exception. Let us slowly follow Jeff and the chil- dren along the brow of the hill to the next tree. The fact is I am a little tired." What controversy could a man have with a pretty and wearied girl ? Gregory felt like a boy who had received a deserved whipping and yet was compelled and somewhat inclined to act very amiably toward the donor. But he was fast coming to the conclusion that this unassuming country girl was a difficult subject on which to. perform his experiment. He was learn- ing to have a wholesome respect for her that was slightly tinged with fear, and doubts of success in his plot against her grew stronger every moment. And yet the element of persistency was large in his character, and he could not readily give, over his purpose, though his cynical confidence had vanished. He now determined to observe her closely and dis- cover if possible her weak points. He still held to the theory that flattery was the most available weapon, though he saw he could employ it no longer in the form of fulsome and outspoken compliment. The innate refinement and truthfulness of Annie's nature revolted at broad gallantry and adulation. INTERPRETING CHESTNUT BURRS. 149 He believed that he must reverse the tactics he usually employed in society, but not the principles. Therefore he resolved that his flattery should be delicate, subtle, manifested in manner rather than in words. He would seem submissive ; he would humbly wear the air of a conquered one. He would delicately maintain the " I-am-at-your-mercy " atti- tude. These thoughts flashed through his mind as they passed along the brow of the hill, which at every turn gave them a new and beautiful landscape. But vales in Eden would not have held his attention then. To his perplexity this new acquaintance had secured his undivided interest. He felt that he ought to be angry at her and yet was not. He felt that a man who had seen as much of the world as he should be able to play with this little country girl as with a child ; but he was becoming convinced that, with all his art, he was no match for her artlessness. In the interpretation of the burr of her own choice, Annie had suggested that the central and supreme place in her heart was already occupied, and his thoughts recurred frequently to that fact with uneasiness. The slightest trace of jealousy,, even as the merest twinge of pain is often precursor of serious disease, indicated the power Miss Walton might gain over one who thought himself proof against all such influence. But he tried to satisfy himself by thinking, " It is her father who occupies the first place in her affections." Then a moment later with a mental protest at his ISO OPEmNG A CHESTNUT BURR. folly, " What do I care who has the first place ? It's well I do not, for she would not permit such a rep- robate as I, with evil in my heart like that cursed worm in the chestnut, to have any place worth nam- ing — unless I can introduce a little canker of evil in her heart also. I wish I could. That would bring us nearer together and upon the same level." Annie saw the. landscapes. She looked away from the man by her side and for a few moments forgot him. The scenes upon which she was gazing were associated with another, and she ardently wished that that other and more favored one could exchange places with Gregory. Her eyes grew dreamy and tender as she recalled words spoken in days gone by, when, her heart thrilling with a young girl's first dream of love, she had leaned upon Charles Hunt- ing's arm, and listened to that sweetest music of earth, all the more enchanting when broken and incoherent ; and Hunting, with all his coolness and precision in Wall Street, had been excessively nervous and unhappy in his phraseology upon one occasion, and tremblingly glad to get any terms from the girl who seemed a child beside him. Annie would not permit an engagement to take place. Hunting was a distant relative. She had always liked him very much, but was not sure she loved him. She was extremely reluctant to leave her father, and was not ready for a speedy marriage ; so she frankly told him that he had no rival, nor was there a prospect of any, but she would not bind him, or permit herself to be bound at that time. If they were fated for each INTERPRE TING CHESTNUT B URRS. I S I other the way would eventually be made perfectly clear. He was quite content, especially as Mr. Walton gave his hearty approval to the match, and he regarded the understanding as a virtual engagement- He wanted Annie to wear the significant ring, say- ing that it should not be regarded as binding, but she declined to do so. ^ Nearly two years had passed, and, while she put him off, she satisfied him that he was steadily gain- ing the place that he wished to possess in her affec- tions. He was gifted with much tact and did not press his suit, but quietly acted as if the matter were really settled, and it were only a question of time. Annie had also come to feel in the same way. She did not see a very great deal of him, though he wrote regularly, and his letters were admirable. He became her ideal man and dwelt in her imagination as a demi-god. To the practical mind of this American girl his successes in the vast and compli- cated transactions of business were as grand as the achievements of any hero. Her father had been a merchant, and she inherited a respect for the calling. Her father also often assured her that her lover bade fair to lead in commercial circles. " Hunting has both nerve and prudence," he was wont to say ; and to impetuous Annie these quali- ties, combined with Christian principles, formed her very ideal man. Her lover took great pains niDt to undeceive her as to his character, and indeed, with the' infatuation 152 OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. of his class, hoped that, when he had amassed the fortune that glittered ever just before him,i he could assume, in some princely mansion, the princely, knightly soul with which she had endowed him. So he did not press matters. Indeed in his rapid accumulation of money he scarcely wished any inter- ruption, and Annie thought all the more of him that he was not dawdling around making love half the time. There was also less danger of disenchanting her by his presence, for woman's perception is quick. But now she inwardly contrasted her strong, mas- terful knight, " sans peur et sans reproche" as she believed, with the enfeebled, shrunken man at her side. Gregory suffered dreadfully by the compari- son. The worm-eaten chestnut seemed truly emble- matic, and in spite of herself her face lighted up with exultation and joy that the man of her choice was a man, and not one upon whom she could not lean for even physical support. Gregory caught her expression and said, quickly, " Your face is full of sudden gleams. Tell me what you are thinking about." She blushed deeply in the consciousness of hei thoughts, but after a moment said, " I do not believe in the confessional." He looked at her keenly, saying, " I wish you did and that I were your father confessor." She replied, laughing, "You are neither old nor good enough. If I were of that faith I should re- quire one a great deal older and better than myself. INTERPRETING ClfESTNUT BURRS. " 153 But here we are at our second tree, which Jeff has just finished. I am going to be a child again and gather nuts as before. I hope you will follow suit, and not stand leaning against the tree laughing at me." CHAPTER XIV. "A well-meanin' man." THE western horizon vied with the autumn foli- age as at last they turned homeward. Their path led out upon the main road some distance above the house, and, laden with the spoils that would greatly diminish the squirrels' hoard for the coming winter, they sauntered along slowly, from a sense of both weariness and leisure. They soon reached the cottage of the lame old man who had fired such a broadside of lurid words at Gregory, as he stood on the fence opposite. With a crutch under one arm and leaning on his gate, Daddy Tuggar seemed awaiting them, and secured their attention by the laconic salutation, " Evenin' ! " " Why, Daddy," exclaimed Annie, coming quickly toward him. " I am real glad to see you so spry and well. It seems to me that you are getting young again ; " and she shook the old man's hand heartily. " Now don't praise my old graveyard of a body, Miss Annie. My sperit is pert enough, but it's all buried up in this old clumsy, half-dead carcass. The worms will close their mortgage on it purty soon." " But they haven't a mortgage on your soul," said "A WELL-MEANIN' MAN." 155 Annie, in a low tone. " You remember what I said to you a few days ago." " Now bless you, Miss Annie, but it takes you to put in a 'word in season.' The Lord knows I'm a well-meanin' man, but I can't seem to get much furder. I've had an awful 'fall from grace,' my wife says. I did try to stop swearin', but that chap there—" "Oh, excuse me," interrupted Annie. "Mr. Gregory, this is our friend and neighbor Mr. Tuggar. I was under the impression that you were acquainted," she added, with a mischievous look at her companion. " We are. I have met this gentleman before," he replied, with a wry face. " Pardon the interruption, Mr. Tuggar, and please go on with your explanation." " Mr. Gregory, I owe you a 'pology. I'm a well- meanin' man, and if I do anyone a wrong I'm willin' to own it up and do the square thing. But I meant right by you and I meant right by John Walton when I thought you was stealin' his apples. I couldn't hit yer with a stun and knock yer off the fence, as I might a dozen years ago, so I took the next hardest thing I could lay hands on. If I'd known that you was kinder one of the family my words would have been rolls of butter." "Well, Mr. Tuggar, it has turned out very well, for / would rather you had fired what you did than either stones or butter." " Now my wife would say that that speech showed you was 'totally depraved.' And this brings me back to my ' fall from grace.' Now, yer see, to please 156 OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. my wife some and Miss Eulie more, I was tryin' cussed hard to stop swearin' — " " Didn't you try a little for my sake, too ? " inter- rupted Annie. " Lord bless you, child ; I don't have to try when you're around, for I don't think swearin'. Most folks rile me, and I get a-thinkin' swearin', and then 'fore I know it busts right out. Yoii could take the wickedest cuss livin' to heaven in spite of himself if you would stay right by him all the time." " I should ' rile ' you, too, if I were with you long, for I get ' riled ' myself sometimes." "Do you, now?" asked Mr. Tuggar, looking at her admiringly. " Well, I'm mighty glad to hear it." " O Daddy ! glad to hear that I do wrong ? " "Can't help it, Miss Annie. I kinder like to know you're a little bit of a sinner. ' Tain't often I meet with a sinner, and I kind o' like 'em. My wife says she's a ' great sinner,' but she means she's a great saint. 'Twouldn't do forme to tell her she's a 'sin- ner.' Then Miss Eulie says she's a ' great sinner,' and between you and me that's the only fib I ever caught Miss Eulie in. Good Lord ! there's no more sin in Miss Eulie's heart than there is specks of dirt on the little white ruff she wears about her neck that looks like the snow we had last April around the white hyacinths. She's kind of a half-sperit any- how. Now your goodness. Miss Annie, is another kind. Your cheeks are so red, and eyes so black, and arms so round and fat, — I've seen 'em when you was over here a-beatin' up good things for the old "A WELL-MEANIJsr MAN." 157 man,-^that you make me think of red and pink posies. I kinder think you might be a little bit of a sinner, — ^just enough, you know, to make you under- stand how I and him there can be mighty big ones, and not be too hard on us for it." " Mr. Tuggar, you are the man of all others to plead my cause." " Now look here, young gentleman, you must do yer own pleadin'. It would be a ' sinful waste of time ' though, as my wife would say, — eh, Miss Annie ? I never had no luck at pleadin' but once, and that was the worst luck of all." Annie's face might well suggest "red posies" dur- ing the last remarks, and its expression was divided between a frown and a laugh. " But I want you to understand," continued Daddy Tuggar, straightening himself up with dignity, and addressing Gregory, " that I'm not a mean cuss. All who know me know I'm a well-meanin' man. I try to do as I'd be done by. If I'm going through a man's field and find his bars down, so the cattle would get in the corn, I'd put 'em up — " " Yes, Daddy, that is what you always say," inter- rupted Annie ; " but you can't go through the fields any more and put up bars. You should try to do the duties that belong to your present state." " But I've got the sperit to put up a man's bars, and it's all the same as if I did put 'em up," answered the old man, with some irritation. " Miss Eulie and the rest of yer is allers sayin' we must have the sperit of willingness to give up the hull world and suffer IS8 OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. martyrdom on what looks in the picture like a big gridiron. She says we must have the sperit of them who was cold and hungry and the lions eat up and was sawn in two pieces and had an awful time gener- ally for the sak^ of the Lord, and that's the way the Christians manage it nowadays. My wife gets all the money she can and keeps it, but she says she has the sperit to give up the hull world. I wish she'd give up enough of it to keep me in good terbacker. Mighty few nice bits would the old man git wasn't it for you and Miss Eulie. Then I watch the good people goin' to church. 'Mazin' few out wet Sun- days. But no doubt they've all got the ' sperit ' to go. They would jist as lief be sawn in two pieces ' in sperit ' as not, if they can only sleep late in the mornin' and have a good dinner and save their Sun- day-go-to-meetin' clothes from gettin' wet. It must be so, for the Lord gets mighty little worship out of the church on rainy Sundays. If it wasn't for you and Miss Eulie I don't know what would become of the old man and all the rest of the sick and feeble folks around here. I ask my wife why she doesn't go to see 'em sometimes. She says she has the ' sperit to go,' but she hasn't time and strength. So I have the ' sperit ' to put up a man's bars while I sit here and smoke, and what's more, Miss Annie, I did it as long as I was able. " " You did indeed. Daddy, and, though uninten- tionally, you have given me a good lesson. We lit- tle deserve to be mentioned wifh those Christians who in olden times suffered the loss of all things, and life itself." "A WELL-MEANIN' MAN." 159 " Lord bless you, child, I didn't mean you. Whether you've got the sperit to do a thing or not yer allers do it, and in a sweet, natteral way, as if you couldn't help it. When my wife enters on a good work it makes me think of a funeral. I'm 'mazin' glad you didn't live in old times, 'cause the lions would have got you sure 'nuff. Though, if it had to be, I would kinder liked to have been the lion ; " and the old man's eyes twinkled humorously, while Gregory laughed heartily. " O Daddy Tuggar ! " exclaimed Annie, "that is the most awful compliment I ever received. If you, with your spirit, were the only lion I had to deal with, I should never become a martyr. You shall have some jelly instead, and now I must go home in order to have it made before Sunday." " Wait a moment," said Gregory. " You were about to tell us how I caused you to ' fall from grace.' " " So I was, so I was, and I've been goin' round Robin Hood's barn ever since. Well, I'd been holdin' in on myswearin' a longtime, 'cause I prom- ised Miss Eulie I'd stop if I could. My wife said I was in quite a' hopeful state,' while I felt all the time as if I was sort of bottled up and the cork might fly out any minute. Miss Eulie, she came and rejoiced over me that mornin', and my wife she looked so solemn (she allers does when she says she feels glad) that somehow I got nervous, and then my wife went to the store and didn't get the kind of terbacker I sent for, and I knew the cork was going to fly out. l6o OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. I was smokin' and in a sort of a doze, when the first thing I knowed a big stun rolled into the road, and there I saw a strange chap, as I thought, a-stealin' John Walton's apples and knockin' down the fence. If they'd a been my apples I might have held in a little longer, but John Walton's — it was like a dam givin' way." " It was, indeed," said Gregory, significantly. " It was like several." " I knowed my wife heard me, and if she'd come right out and said, 'You've made a cussed old fool of yourself,' I think I would have felt better. I knowed she wasgoin' to speak about it and lament over it, and I wanted her to do it right away ; hut she put it off, and kept me on pins and needles for ever so long. At last she said with solemn joy, ' Thomas Tuggar, I told Miss Eulie I feared you was still in a state of natur, and, alas ! I am right ; but how she'll mourn, how great will be her disappoint- ment, when she hears ; ' and then I fell into a ' state of natur 'agin. Now, Miss Annie, if the Lord, Miss Eulie, and you all could only see I'm a well-meanin' man, and that I don't mean no disrespect to anybody ; that it's only one of my old, rough ways that I learned from my father, — and mother too, for that matter, I'm sorry to say, — and have followed so long that it's bred in the bone, it would save a lieap of worry. One must have some way of lettin' off steam. Now my wife she purses up her mouth so tight you couldn't stick a pin in it when she's riled. I often say to her, ' Do explode. Open your mouth "A WELL-MEANIN' MAN." l6l and let it all out at once.' But she says it is not becoming for such as her ter ' explode.' But it will come out all the same, only it's like one of yer cold north-east, drizzlin', fizzlin' rain-storms. And now I've made a clean breast of it, I hope you'll kinder smooth matters over with Miss Eulie ; and I hope you, sir, will just think of what I said as spoken to a stranger and not a friend of the family." " Give me your hand, Mr. Tuggar. I hope we shall be the best of friends. I am coming over to have a smoke with you, and see if I can't fill your pipe with some tobacco that .is like us both, 'in a state of natur.' " A white-faced woman appeared at the door, and courtesying low to Miss Walton, called, " Husband, it's too late for you to be out ; I fear your health will suffer." " She's bound up in me, you see," said the old man, with a curious grimace. " Nothing but the reading of my will will ever comfort her when I die." " Daddy, Daddy," said Annie, reproachfully, " have charity. Good-night ; I will send you something nice for to-morrow." An amused smile lingered on Gregory's face as they pursued their way homeward, now in the early twilight ; but Annie's aspect was almost one of sad- ness. After a little he said, " Well, he is one of the oddest specimens of humanity I ever met." She did not immediately reply, and he, looking at her, caught her expression. " Why is your face so clouded, Miss Annie ? " he i62 OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. asked. "You are not given to Mrs. Tuggar's style of ' solemn joy ' ? " " What a perplexing mystery life is after all ! " she replied, absently. " I really think poor old Daddy Tuggar speaks truly. He is a ' well-meaning ' man, but he and many others remind me of one not having the slightest ear for music trying to catch a difficult harmony." "Why is the harmony so difficult?" asked Gregory, bitterly. " Perhaps it were better to ask, Why has human- ity so disabled itself ? " " I do not think it matters much how you put the case. It amounts to the same thing. Something is required of us beyond our strength. The idea of punishing that old man for being what he is, when in the first place he inherited evil from his parents, and then was taught it by precept and example, I think he deserves more credit than blame." " The trouble is, Mr. Gregory, evil carries its own punishment along with it every day. But I admit that we are surrounded by mystery on every side. Humanity, left to itself, is a hopeless problem. But one thing is certain : we are not responsible for questions beyond our ken. Moreover, many things that were complete mysteries to me as a child are now plain, and I ever hope to be taught something new every day. You and I at least have much to be grateful for in the fact that we neither inherited evil nor were taught it in any such degree as our poor neighbor." "A WELL-MEANIN" MAN." 163 "And you quietly prove, Miss Walton, by your last remark, that I am much more worthy of blame than your poor old neighbor." " Then I said more than I meant," she answered, eagerly. " It is not for me to judge or condemn any one. The thought in my mind -w^as how favored ■ we have been in our parentage, — our start in exist- ence, as it were." " But suppose one loses that vantage ground ? " , " I do not wish to suppose anything of the kind." " But one can lose it utterly." " I fear some can and do. But why dwell on a subject so unutterably sad and painful ? You have not lost it, and, as I said before to-day, I will not dwell upon the disagreeable any more than I can help." " Your opinion of me is poor enough already, Miss Walton, so I, too, will drop the subject." They had now reached the house, and did ample justice to the supper awaiting them. Between meals people can be very sentimental, morbid, and tragical. They can stare at life's deep mysteries and shudder or scoff, sigh or rejoice^ ac- cording to their moral conditions. They- can even grow cold with dread, as did Gregory, realizing that he had " lost his vantage ground," his good start in the endless career. " She is steering across unknown seas to a peaceful, happy shore. I am drifting on those same mysterious waters I know not whither," he thought. But a few minutes after entering the cheerfully lighted dining-room he was giving his whole soul to muiifins. 164 OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. These homely and ever-recurring duties and pleas- ures of life have no doubt saved multitudes from madness. It would almost seem that they have also been the innocent cause of the destruction of many. There are times when the mind is almost evenly bal- anced between good and evil. Some powerful appeal or startling providence has aroused the sleeping spirit, or some vivifying truth has pierced the armor of indifference or prejudice, and quivered like an arrow in the soul, and the man remembers that he is a man, and not a brute that perishes. But just then the dinner-bell sounds. After the several courses, any physician can predict how the powers of that human organization must of necessity be employed the next few hours, and the partially awakened soul is like one who starts out of a doze and sleeps again. If the spiritual nature had only become sufificiently aroused to realize the situation, life might have been secured. Thought and feeling in some emergencies will do more than the grandest pulpit eloquence quenched by a Sunday dinner. CHAPTER XV. MISS WALTON'S DREAM. ''PHE hickory fire burned cheerily in the parlor 1 after tea, and all drew gladly around its wel- come blaze. But even the delights of roasting chest- nuts from the abundant spoils of the afternoon could not keep the heads of the children from drooping early. Gregory was greatly fatigued, and soon went to his room also. Sabbath morning dawned dim and uncertain, arid by the time they had gathered at the breakfast-table, a north-east rain-storm had set in with a driving gale. " I suppose you will go to church ' in sperit ' this morning, as Mr. Tuggar would say," said Gregory, addressing Annie. " If I were on the sick list I should, but I have no such excuse." " You seriously do not mean to ride two miles in such a storm as this ? " " No, not seriously, but very cheerfully and gladly." " I do not think it is required of you. Miss Walton. 1 66 OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. Even your Bible states, ' I will have mercy and not sacrifice.' " " The ' sacrifice ' in my case would be in staying at home. I like to be out in a storm, and have plenty of warm blood to resist its chilling effects. But even were it otherwise, what hardship is there in my wrapping myself up in a waterproof and rid- ing a few miles to a comfortable church ? I shall come back with a grand appetite and a double zest for the wood fire." " But it is not fair on the poor horses. They have no waterproofs or wood fires." " I think I am not indifferent to the comfort of dumb animals, and though I drive a good deal, father can tell you I am not a ' whip.' Of all shams the most transparent is this tenderness for one's self and the horses on Sunday. I am often out in stormy weather during the week, and meet plenty of people on the road: The farmers drive to the village on rainy days because they can neither plough, sow, nor reap. But on even a cloudy Sabbath, with the faintest prospect of rain, there is but one text in the Bible for them : ' A righteous man regardeth the life of his beast.' People attend parties, the opera, and places of amusement no matter how bad the night. It is a miserable pretence to say that the weather keeps the majority at home from church. It is only an excuse. I should have a great deal more respect for them if they would say frankly, ' We would rather sleep, read a novel, dawdle around en deshabille, and gossip.' Half the time when they MISS WALTON'S DREAM. 167 say it's too stormy to venture out (oh, the heroism of our Christian age !), they should go and thani< God for the rain that is providing food for them and theirs. "And granting that our Christian duties do involve some risk and hardship, does not the Bible ever speak of life as a warfare, a struggle, an agoniz- ing for success ? Do not armies often fight and march in the rain, and dumb beasts share their exposure? There is more at stake in this battle. In ancient times God commanded the bloody sacri- fice of innumerable animals for the sake of moral and religious effect. Moral and religious effect is worth just as much now. Nothing can excuse wanton cruelty ; but the soldier who spurs his horse against the enemy, and the sentinel who keeps his out in a winter storm, are not cruel. But many farmers about here will overwork and underfeed all the week, and on Sunday talk about being ' merciful to their beasts.' There won't be over twenty-five out to-day, and the Christian heroes, the sturdy yeomanry of the church, will be dozing and grumbling in chimney-corners. The languid half-heartedness of the church discour- ages me more than all the evil in the world." Miss Walton stated her views in a quiet undertone of indignation, and not so much in answer to Gregory as in protest against a style of action utterly repug- nant to her earnest, whole-souled nature. Ashe saw the young girl's face light up with the will and pur- pose to be loyal to a noble cause, his own aimless, self-pleasing life seemed petty and contemptible in- 1 68 OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. deed, and again he had that painful sense of huiT\il- iation which Miss Walton unwittingly caused him ; but, as was often his way, he laughed the matter off by saying, "There is no need of my going to-day, for I have had my sermon, and a better one than you will hear. Still, such is the effect of your homily that I am inclined to ask you to take me with you." Annie's manner changed instantly, and she smil- ingly answered, " You will, find an arm-chair before a blazing fire in your room up-stairs, and an arm- chair before a blazing fire in the parlor, and you can vacillate between them at yoiir pleasure." " As a vacillating man should, perhaps you might add." " I add nothing of the kind." " Will you never let me go to church with you again ? " " Certainly, after what you said, any pleasant day." " Why can't I have the privilege of being a martyr as well as yourself? " " I am not a martyr. I would far rather go out to- day than stay at home." " It will be very lonely without you." " Oh, you are the martyr then, after all. I hope you will have sufficient fortitude to endure, and doze comfortably during the two hours of my absence." " Now you are satirical on Sunday, Miss Walton. Let that burden your conscience. I'm going to ask your father if I may go." " Of course you will act at your pleasure," said MISS WALTON S DREAM. 169 Mr. Walton, " but I think, in your present state of health, Annie has suggested the wiser and safer thing to do." " I should probably be ill on your hands if I went, so I submit ; but I wish you to take note, Miss Wal- ton, that I have the ' sperit to go.' " The arm-chairs were cosey and comfortable, and the hickory wood turned, as is its wont, into glowing and fragrant coals, but the house grew chill and empty the moment that Annie left it. Though Mr. Walton and Miss Eulie accompanied her, their absence was rather welcome, but he felt sure that Annie could have beguiled the heavy-footed hours. " She has some unexplained power of making me forget my miserable self," he muttered. And yet, left to himself, he had now nothing to do but think, and a fearful time he had of it, lowering at the fire, in the arm-chair, from which he scarcely stirred. " I have lost my vantage ground," he groaned,— " lost it utterly. I am not even a ' well-meaning man.' I purpose evil against this freshest, purest spirit I have ever known since in this house I looked into my mother's eyes. I am worse than the wild Arab of the desert. I have eaten salt with them ; I have partaken of their generous hospitality, given so cordially for the sake of one that is dead, and in return have wounded their most sacred feelings, and now propose to prove the daughter a creature that I can go away and despise. Instead of being glad that there is one in the world noble and good, even I70 OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. though by accident, — instead of noting with pleas- ure that every sweet flower has not become a weed, —I wish to drag her down to my own wretched level, or else I would have her exhibit sufficient weakness to show that she would go as far as she was tempted to go. A decent devil could hardly wish her worse. I would like to see her show the same spirit that animates Miss Belle St. Clair of New York, or Mrs. Grobb, my former adored Miss Bently, -^creatures that I despise as I do myself, and what more could I say? If I could only cause her to show some of their characteristics the reproach of her life would pass away, and I should be confirmed in my belief that humanity's unutterable degrada- tion is its misfortune, and the blame should rest elsewhere than on us. How absurd to blame water for running down hill ! Give man or woman half a chance, that is, before habits are fixed, and they plunge faster down the inclined moral plane. And the plague of it is, this seeming axiom does not sat- isfy me. What business has my conscience, with a lash of scorpion stings, to punish me this and every day that I permit myself to think ? Did I not try for years to be better ? Did I not resist the infernal gravitation ? and yet I am falling still. I never did anything so mean and low before as I am doing now. If it is my nature to do evil, why should I not do it without compunction? And as I look downward — there is no looking forward for me — there seems no evil thing that I could not do if so inclined. Here in this home of my childhood, this MISS WALTON'S DREAM. 171 sacred atmosphere that my mother breathed, I would besmirch the character of one who as yet is pure and good, with a nature like a white hyacinth in spring. I see the vileness of the act, I loathe it, and yet it fascinates me, and I have no power to resist. Why should a stern, condemning voice declare in recesses of my soul, ' You could and should resist ' ? For years I have been daily yielding to temptation, and conscience as often pronounces sentence against me. When will the hateful farce cease ? Multitudes appear to sin without thought or remorse. Why cannot I ? It's my mother's doings, I suppose. A plague upon the early memories of this place. Will they keep me upon the rack forever ? " He rose, strode up and down the parlor, and clenched his hands in passionate protest against him- self, his destiny, and the God who made him. A chillness, resulting partly from dread and partly from the wild storm raging without, caused him to heap up the hearth with wood. It speedily leaped into flame, and, covering his face with his hands, he sat cowering before it. A vain but frequent thought recurred to him with double power. " Oh that I could cease to exist, and lose this miserable consciousness ! Oh that, like this wood, I could be aflame with intense, passionate life, and then lose identity, memory, and everything that makes me, and pass into other forms. Nay, more, if I had my wish, I would become nothing here and now." The crackling of flames and the rush of wind and 172 OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. rain against the windows had caused the sound of wheels, and a light step in the room, to be unheard. He was aroused by Miss Walton, who asked, "Mr. Gregory, are you ill?" He raised his woe-begone face to hers, and said, almost irritably, " Yes — no — or at least I am as well as I ever expect to be, and perhaps better." Then with a sudden impulse he asked, " Does annihilation seem such a dreadful thing to you ? " " What ! the losing of an eternity of keen enjoy- ment ? Could anything be more dreadful ! Really, Mr. Gregory, brooding here alone has not been good for you. Why do you not think of pleasant things ? " " For the same reason that a man with a raging toothache does not have pleasant sensations," he answered, with a grim smile. " I admit the force of your reply, though I do not think the case exactly parallel. The mind is not as helpless as the body. Still, I believe it is true that when the body is suffering the mind is apt to become the prey of all sorts of morbid fancies, and you do look really ill. I wish I could give you some of my rampant health and spirits to-day. Facing the October storm has done me good every way, and I am ravenous for dinner." He looked at her enviously as she stood before him, with her waterproof, still covered with rain- drops, partially thrown back and revealing the out- line of a form which, though not stout, was suggest- ive of health and strength. She seemed, with her warm, high color, like a hardy flower covered with MISS WALTON'S DKEAM. 173 Spray. Instead of shrinking feebly and delicately from the harsher moods of nature, and coming in pinched and shivering, she had felt the blood in her veins and all the wheels of life quickened by the gale. " Miss Walton," he said, with a glimmer of a smile, " do you know that you are very different from most young ladies ? You and nature evidently have some deep secrets between you. I half believe you never will grow old, but are one of the peren- nials. I am glad you have come home, for you seem to bring a little of yesterday's sunshine into the dreary house." As they returned to the parlor after dinner, Gregory remarked, " Miss Walton, what can you do to interest me this afternoon, for I am devoured with ennui?" She turned upon him rather quickly and said, " A young man like you has no business to be ' devoured with ennui.' Why not engage in some pursuit, or take up some subject that will interest you and stir your pulse ? " With a touch of his old mock-gallantry he bowed and said, " In you I see just the subject, and am delighted to think I'm going to have you all to myself this rainy afternoon." With a half-vexed laugh and somewhat heightened color she answered, " I imagine you won't have me all to yourself long." She had hardly spoken the words before the chil- dren bounded in, exclaiming, " Now, Aunt Annie, for our stories." T74 OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. "You see, Mr. Gregory, here are previous and counter claims already." " I wish I knew of some way of successfully dis- puting them." " It would be difficult to find. Well, come, little people, we will go into the sitting-room and not dis- turb Mr. Gregory." " Now, I protest against that," he said. " You might at least let me be one of the children." " But the trouble is, you won't be one, but will sit by criticising and laughing at our infantile talk." " Now you do me wrong. I will be as good as I can, and if you knew how long and dreary the day has been you would not refuse." She looked at him keenly for a moment, and then said, a little doubtfully, " Well, I will try for once. Run and get your favorite Sunday books, children." When they were alone he asked, " How can you permit these youngsters to be such a burden ? " " They are not a burden," she answered. " But a nurse could take care of them and keep them quiet." " If their father and mother were living they would not think ' keeping them quiet ' all their duty toward them, nor do I, to whom they were left as a sacred trust." " That awful word ' duty ' rules you. Miss Walton, with a rod of iron." "Do I seem like a harshly driven slave?" she asked, smilingly. MISS WALTON'S DREAM. 175 " No, and I cannot understand you." " That is because your philosophy of life is wrong. You still belong to that old school who would have it that sun, moon, and stars revolve around the earth. But here are the books, and if you are to be one of the children you must do as I bid you, — be still and listen." It was strange to Gregory how content he was to obey. He was surprised at his interest in the old Bible stories told in childish language, and as Annie stopped to explain a point or answer a question, he found himself listening as did the eager little boy sitting on the floor at her feet. The hackneyed man of the world could not understand how the true, simple language of nature, like the little brown blossoms of lichens, has a beauty of its own. At the same time he had a growing consciousness that perhaps there was something in the reader also which mainly held his interest. It was pleasant to listen to the low, musical voice. It was pleasant to see the red lips drop the words so easily yet so dis- tinctly, and chief of all was the consciousness of a vitalized presence that made the room seem full when she was in it, and empty when she was absent, though all others remained. He truly shared the children's regret when at last she said, " Now I am tired, and must go up-stairs and rest awhile before supper, after which we will have some music. You can go into the sitting-room and look at the pictures till the tea-bell rings. Mr. Gregory, will my excuse to the children answer for you also ? " 176 OPENING A CHESTNUT BURR. " I suppose it must, though I have no pictures to look at." She suddenly appeared to change her mind, and said, briskly, "Come, sir, what you need is work for others. I have read to you, and you ought to be willing to read to me. If you please, I will rest in the arm-chair here instead of in my room." "I will take your medicine," he said, eagerly, " without a wry face, though an indifferent reader, while I think you are a remarkably good one ; and let me tell you it is one of the rarest accomplish- ments we find. You shall also choose the book." " What unaccountable amiableness ! " she replied, laughing. " I fear I shall reward you by going to sleep." " Very well, anything so I am not left alone again. I am wretched company for myself." I " Oh, it is not for my sake you are so good, after all ! " /' " You think me a selfish wretch, Miss Walton." " I think you are like myself, capable of much improvement. But I wish to rest, and you must not talk, but read. There is the Schpnberg-Cotta Fam- ily. I have been over it two or three times, so if I lose the thread of the story it d