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 THE LIBRARY OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 
 NORTH CAROLINA 
 
 AT CHAPEL HILL 
 
 ENDOWED BY THE 
 
 DIALECTIC AND PHILANTHROPIC 
 
 SOCIETIES 
 
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Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2012 with funding from 
 
 University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill 
 
 http://archive.org/details/stelmonovelOOevan 
 
THE NOVELS 
 
 Of 
 
 Mliss Augusta J. IK vans. 
 
 I- . . . BEULAH . . . Price *x.7S- 
 II- . . . MACARIA . . . *i.75- 
 
 Ill- ... ST. ELMO . . . $3.00. 
 
 These volumes are all elegantly printed and bound 
 
 in cloth ; are sold everywhere, and will 
 
 be sent by mail, free of postage, 
 
 on receipt of price. 
 
 Carlefcon, Publisher, 
 New York. 
 
ELMO. 
 
 % lotel. 
 
 .57 
 
 G-XJSTA J. EVANS, 
 
 AUTHOR OP 
 )> u 
 
 BEULAH, " MACARIA, ETC. 
 
 [l Ah ! the true rule is— a true wife in her husband's house is his servant ; it is in 
 
 his heart that she is queen. Whatever of the best he can conceive, it is her 
 
 part to be ; whatever of the highest he can hope, it is hers to promise ; all 
 
 that is dark in him she must purge into purity ; all that is failing 
 
 in him she must strengthen into truth ; from her, through all 
 
 the world's clamor, he must win his praise ; in her, 
 
 through all the icorld's warfare, he must find his 
 
 peace." — John Rcskin. 
 
 NEW-YORK : 
 CslSiZUTOJV, Thiblisher, If 3 BROADWAY. 
 
 LONDON: S. LOW, SON & CO. 
 MDCCCLXVII. 
 
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1SGG, by 
 
 G. W CARLETON, 
 
 in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern District 
 of New-York. 
 
J. C. DERBY, 
 
 IN GRATEFUL MEMORY OP MANY YEARS OF KIND AND FAITHFUL FRIENDSHIP, 
 THESE PAGES ARE 
 
 AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED. 
 
ST. ELMO. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 E stood and measured the earth: and the ever 
 lasting mountains were scattered, the perpet- 
 ual hills did bow." 
 
 These words of the prophet upon Shigio- 
 notn were sung by a sweet, happy childish voice, and to a 
 strange, wild, anomalous tune — solemn as the Hebrew chant 
 of Deborah, and fully as triumphant. 
 
 A slender girl of twelve years' growth steadied a pail of 
 water On her head, with both dimpled arms thrown up, in 
 ancient classic Caryatides attitude ; and, pausing a moment 
 beside the spring, stood fronting the great golden dawn — 
 watching for the first level ray of the coming sun, and 
 chanting the prayer of Habakkuk. Behind her in silent 
 grandeur towered the huge outline of Lookout Mountain, 
 shrouded at summit in gray mist ; while centre and base 
 showed dense masses of foliage, dim and purplish in the 
 distance — a stern cowled monk of the Cumberland broth- 
 erhood. Low hills clustered on either side, but immediate- 
 ly in front stretched a wooded plain, and across this the 
 child looked at the flushed sky, rapidly brightening into 
 fiery and blinding radiance. Until her wild song waked 
 echoes among the far-off rocks, the holy hush of early morn- 
 ing had rested like a benediction upon the scene, as though 
 
O ST. ELMO. 
 
 nature laid her broad finger over her great lips, and waited 
 in reverent silence the advent of the sun. Morning among 
 the mountains possessed witchery and glories which filled 
 the heart of the girl with adoration, and called from her 
 lips rude but exultant anthems of praise. The young face, 
 lifted toward the cloudless east, might have served as a 
 model for a pictured Syriac priestess — one of Baalbec's ves- 
 tals, ministering in the olden time in that wondrous and 
 grand temple at Heliopolis. 
 
 The large black eyes held a singular fascination in their 
 mild sparkling depths, now full of tender loving light and 
 childish gladness ; and the flexible red lips curled in lines of 
 orthodox Greek perfection, showing remarkable versatility 
 of expression ; while the broad, full, polished forehead with 
 its prominent, swelling brows, could not fail to recall, to 
 even casual observers, the calm, powerful face of Lorenzo 
 de' Medicis, which, if once looked on, fastens itself upon 
 heart and brain, to be forgotten no more. Her hair, black, 
 straight, waveless as an Indian's, hung around her shoul- 
 ders, and glistened as the water from the dripping bucket 
 trickled through the wreath of purple morning-glories and 
 scarlet cypress, which she had twined about her head, ere 
 lifting the cedar pail to its resting-place. She wore a short- 
 sleeved dress of yellow striped homespun, which fell nearly 
 to her ankles, and her little bare feet gleamed pearly white 
 on the green grass and rank dewy creepers that clustered 
 along the margin of the bubbling spring. Her complexion 
 was unusually transparent, and early exercise and mountain 
 air had rouged her cheeks till they matched the brilliant 
 hue of her scarlet crown. A few steps in advance of her 
 stood a large, fierce yellow dog, with black scowling face, 
 and ears cut close to his head ; a savage, repulsive creature, 
 who looked as if he rejoiced in an opportunity of making 
 good his name, " Grip." In the solemn beauty of that sum- 
 mer morning the girl seemed to have forgotten the mission 
 upon which she came ; but as she loitered, the sun flashed 
 
 : ; "J\J 
 
 l\r\ 1 
 
ST. ELMO. h 
 
 up, kindling diamond fringes on every dew-Leaded chestmfr 
 leaf and oak-bough, and silvering the misty mantle which 
 enveloped Lookout. A moment longer that pure-hearted 
 Tennessee child stood watching the gorgeous spectacle, 
 drinking draughts of joy, which mingled no drop of sin or 
 selfishness in its crystal waves; for she had grown up 
 alone with nature — utterly ignorant of the roar and strife, 
 the burning hate and cunning intrigue of the great world 
 of men and women, where " like an Egyptian pitcher of 
 tamed vipers, each struggles to get its head above the 
 other." To her, earth seemed very lovely ; life stretched 
 before her like the sun's path in that clear sky, and, as free 
 from care or foreboding as the fair June day, she walked 
 on, preceded by her dog — and the chant burst once more 
 from her lips : 
 
 " He stood and measured the earth : and the everlasting 
 
 mountains were scattered, the perpetual hills " 
 
 The sudden, almost simultaneous report of two pistol- 
 shots rang out sharply on the cool, calm air, and startled the 
 child so violently that she sprang forward and dropped the 
 bucket. The sound of voices reached her from the thick 
 wood bordering the path, and, without reflection, she fol- 
 lowed the dog, who bounded off toward the point whence 
 it issued. Upon the verge of the forest she paused, and, 
 looking down a dewy green glade where the rising sun 
 darted the earliest arrowy rays, beheld a spectacle which 
 burned itself indelibly upon her memory. A group of five 
 gentlemen stood beneath the dripping chestnut and sweet- 
 gum arches ; one leaned against the trunk of a tree, two 
 were conversing eagerly in undertones, and two faced each 
 other fifteen paces apart, with pistols in their hands. Ere 
 she could comprehend the scene, the brief conference ended 
 the seconds resumed their places to witness another fire 
 and like the peal of a trumpet echoed the words : 
 " Fire ! One !— two !— three !" 
 The flash and ringing report mingled with the command, 
 
10 ST. ELMO 
 
 and one of the principals threw up his arm and fell. When, 
 with horror in her wide-strained eyes and pallor on her 
 lips, the child staggered to the spot, and looked on the 
 prostrate form, he was dead. The hazel eyes stared blank- 
 ly at the sky, and the hue of life and exuberant health still 
 glowed on the full cheek; but the ball had entered the 
 heart, and the warm blood, bubbling from his breast, dripped 
 on the glistening grass. The surgeon who knelt beside 
 him took the pistol from his clenched fingers, and gently 
 pressed the lids over his glazing eyes. Not a word was ut- 
 tered, but while the seconds sadly regarded the stiffening 
 form, the surviving principal coolly drew out a cigar, lighted 
 and placed it between his lips. The child's eyes had wan- 
 dered to the latter from the pool of blood, and now in a 
 shuddering cry she broke the silence : 
 
 " Murderer !" 
 
 The party looked around instantly, and for the first time 
 perceived her standing there in their midst, with loathing 
 and horror in the gaze she fixed on the perpetrator of the 
 awful deed. In great surprise he drew back a step or two, 
 and asked gruffly : 
 
 " "Who are you ? What business have you here ?" 
 
 " Oh ! how dared you murder him ? Do you think God 
 will forgive you on the gallows ?" 
 
 He was a man probably twenty-seven years of age — sin- 
 gularly fair, handsome, and hardened in iniquity, but he 
 cowered before the blanched and accusing face of the ap- 
 palled child ; and ere a reply could be framed, his friend 
 came close to him. 
 
 " Clinton, you had better be off; you have barely time to 
 catch the Knoxville train, which leaves Chattanooga in half 
 an hour. I would advise you to make a long stay in New- 
 York, for there will be trouble when Dent's brother hears 
 of this morning's work." 
 
 " Aye ! Take my word for that, and put the Atlantic 
 between you and Dick Dent," added the surgeon, smiling 
 
ST. ELMO. 11 
 
 grimly, as if the anticipation of retributive jus ace afforded 
 him pleasure. 
 
 "I will simply put this between us," replied the homi- 
 cide, fitting his pistol to the palm of his hand ; and as lie 
 did so, a heavy antique diamond ring flashed on his little 
 finger. 
 
 " Come, Clinton, delay may cause you more trouble 
 than we bargained for," urged his second. 
 
 Without even glancing toward the body of his antago- 
 nist, Clinton scowled at the child, and, turning away, was 
 soon out of sight. 
 
 " O sir ! will you let him get away ? will you let him 
 go unpunished ?" 
 
 " He can not be punished," answered the surgeon, look- 
 ing at her with mingled curiosity and admiration. 
 
 "I thought men were hung for murder." 
 
 " Yes — but this is not murder." 
 
 " Not murder ? He shot liirn dead ! What is it ?" 
 
 " He killed him in a duel, which is considered quite right 
 and altogether proper." 
 
 "A duel?" 
 
 She had never heard the word before, and pondered an 
 instant. 
 
 " To take a man's life is murder. Is there no law to pun- 
 ish ' a duel ' ?" 
 
 " None strong enough to prohibit the practice. It is re- 
 garded as the only method of honorable satisfaction open 
 to gentlemen." 
 
 " Honorable satisfaction ?" she repeated — weighing the 
 new phraseology as cautiously and fearfully as she would 
 have handled the bloody garments of the victim. 
 
 " What is your name ?" asked the surgeon. 
 
 "Edna Earl." 
 
 " Do you live near this place ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir, very near." 
 
 " Is your father at home ?" 
 
12 ST. ELMO. 
 
 " I have no father, but grandpa has not gone tc the slioy 
 
 yet." 
 
 " Will you show me the way to the house ?" 
 
 ' ; Do you wish to carry him there ?" she asked, glancing 
 at the corpse, and shuddering violently. 
 
 " Yes, I want some assistance from your grandfather." 
 
 " I will show you the way, sir." 
 
 The surgeon spoke hurriedly to the two remaining gen- 
 tlemen, and followed his guide. Slowly she retraced her 
 steps, refilled her bucket at the spring, and walked on be- 
 fore the stranger. But the glory of the morning had passed 
 away ; a bloody mantle hung between the splendor of sum- 
 mer sunshine and the chilled heart of the awe-struck girl. 
 The forehead of the radiant holy June day had been sud- 
 denly red-branded like Cain, to be henceforth an occasion 
 of hideous reminiscences ; and with a blanched face and 
 trembling limbs the child followed a narrow beaten path, 
 which soon terminated at the gate of a rude, unwhitewashed 
 paling. A low, comfortless-looking thi'ee-roomed house 
 stood within, and on the steps sat an elderly man, smoking 
 a pipe, and busily engaged in mending a bridle. The 
 creaking of the gate attracted his attention, and he looked 
 up wonderingly at the advancing stranger. 
 
 " O grandpa ! there is a murdered man lying in the 
 grass, under the chestnut-trees, down by the spring." 
 
 " Why ! how do you know he was murdered ?" 
 
 " Good morning, sir. Your granddaughter happened to 
 witness a very unfortunate and distressing affair. A duel 
 was fought at sunrise, in the edge of the woods yonder, and 
 the challenged party, Mr. Dent of Georgia, was killed. I 
 came to ask permission to bring the body here, until ar- 
 rangements can be made for its interment ; and also to beg 
 your assistance in obtaining a coffin." 
 
 Edna passed on to the kitchen, and as she deposited th6 
 bucket on the table, a tall, muscular, red-haired woman, who 
 was stooping over the fire, raised her flushed face and ex- 
 claimed angrily : 
 
ST. ELMO. IB 
 
 " What upon earth have you been doing ? I have been 
 half-way to the spring to call you, and hadn't a drop of 
 water in the kitchen, to make coffee ! A pretty time of day 
 Aaron Hunt will get his breakfast ! What do you mean by 
 Buch idleness ?" 
 
 She advanced with threatening mien and gesture, but 
 stopped suddenly. 
 
 " Edna, what ails you ? Have you got an ague ? You 
 are as white as that pan of flour. Are you scared or 
 sick ?" 
 
 " There was a man killed this morning, and the body will 
 be brought here directly. If you want to hear about it, you 
 had better go out on the porch. One of the gentlemen is 
 talking to grandpa." 
 
 Stunned by what she had seen, and indisposed to narrate 
 the horrid details, the girl went to her own room, and seat- 
 ing herself in the window, tried to collect her thoughts. 
 She was tempted to believe the whole affair a hideous 
 dream, which would pass away with vigorous rubbing of 
 her eyes ; but the crushed purple and scarlet flowers she 
 took from her forehead, her dripping hair and damp feet 
 assured her of the vivid reality of the vision. Every fibre 
 of her frame had received a terrible shock, and when noisy, 
 bustling Mrs. Hunt ran from room to room, ejaculating her 
 astonishment, and calling on the child to assist in putting 
 the house in order, the latter obeyed silently, mechanically, 
 as if in a state of somnambulism. 
 
 Mr. Dent's body was brought up on a rude litter of 
 boards, and temporarily placed on Edna's bed, and toward 
 evening, when a coffin arrived from Chattanooga, the re- 
 mains were removed, and the coffin rested on two chairs in 
 the middle of the same room. The surgeon insisted upon 
 an immediate interment near the scene of combat ; but the 
 gentleman who had officiated as second for the deceased ex- 
 pressed his determination to carry the unfortunate man's 
 body back to his home and family, and the earliest train on 
 
14 ST. ELMO. 
 
 the following day was appointed as the time fcr uheir de- 
 parture. Late in the afternoon Edna cautiously opened 
 the door of the room which she had hitherto avoided, and 
 with her apron full of lilies, white poppies, and sprigs of 
 rosemary, approached the coffin, and looked at the rigid 
 sleeper. Judging from his appearance, not more than 
 thirty years had gone over his handsome head ; his placid 
 features were unusually regular, and a soft, silky brown 
 beard fell upon his pulseless breast. Fearful lest she should 
 touch the icy form, the girl timidly strewed her flowers in 
 the coffin, and tears gathered and dropped with the blos- 
 soms, as she noticed a plain gold ring on the little finger, 
 and wondered if he were married — if his death would leave 
 wailing orphans in his home, and a broken-hearted widow 
 at the desolate hearthstone. Absorbed in her melancholy 
 task, she heard neither the sound of strange voices in the 
 passage, nor the faint creak of the door as it swung back 
 on its rusty hinges ; but a shrill scream, a wild, despairing 
 shriek terrified her, and her heart seemed to stand still as 
 she bounded away from the side of the coffin. The light ol 
 the setting sun streamed through the window, and over the 
 white, convulsed face of a feeble but beautiful woman, who 
 was supported on the threshold by a venerable gray -haired 
 man, down whose furrowed cheeks tears coursed rapidly. 
 Struggling to free herself from his restraining grasp, the 
 stranger tottered into the middle of the room. 
 
 " O Harry ! My husband ! ' my husband !" She threw 
 up her wasted arms, and fell forward senseless on the 
 corpse. 
 
 They bore her into the adjoining apartment, where the 
 surgeon administered the usual restoratives, and though 
 finally the pulses stirred and throbbed feebly, no symptom 
 of returning consciousness greeted the anxious friends who 
 bent over her. Hour after hour passed, during which she 
 lay as motionless as her husband's body, and at length the 
 physician sighed, and pressing his fingers to his eyes, said 
 
ST. ELMO. 15 
 
 sorrowfully to the grief-stricken old man beside him : " II 
 is paralysis, Mr. Dent, and there is no hope. She maj 
 linger twelve or twenty-four hours, but her sorrows arc 
 ended ; she and Harry will soon be reunited. Knowing hei 
 constitution, I feared as much. You should not have suf 
 fered her to come ; you might have known that the shock 
 would kill her. For this reason I wished his body buried 
 here." 
 
 " I could not restrain her. Some meddling gossip told 
 her that my poor boy had gone to fight a duel, and she rose 
 from her bed and started to the railroad depot. I pleaded, 
 I reasoned with her that she could not bear the journey, 
 but I might as well have talked to the winds. I never 
 knew her obstinate before, but she seemed to have a pre- 
 sentiment of the truth. God pity her two sweet babes !" 
 
 The old man bowed his head upon her pillow, and sobbed 
 aloud. 
 
 Throughout the night Edna crouched beside the bed, 
 watching the wan but lovely face of the young widow, and 
 tenderly chafing the numb fair hands which lay so motion- 
 less on the coverlet. Children are always sanguine, because 
 of their ignorance of the stern inexorable realities of the un- 
 tried future, and Edna could not believe that death would 
 snatch from the world one so beautiful and so necessary to 
 her prattling fatherless infants. But morning showed no 
 encouraging symptoms, the stupor was unbroken, and at 
 noon the wife's spirit passed gently to the everlasting re- 
 union. 
 
 Before sunrise on the ensuing day, a sad group clustered 
 once more under the dripping chestnuts, and where a pool 
 of blood had dyed the sod a wide grave yawned. The 
 coffins were lowered, the bodies of Henry and Helen Dent 
 
 sted side by side, and, as the mound rose slowly above 
 
 em, the solemn silence was broken by the faltering voice 
 of the surgeon, who read the burial service : 
 
 " Man, that is born of a woman, hath but a short time to 
 
16 ST. ELMO. 
 
 live, and is full of misery. He cometh up, and is cut down, 
 like a flower ; he fleeth as it were a shadow, and never con- 
 tinueth in one stay. Tet, O Lord God most holy, O Lord 
 most mighty, O holy and most merciful Saviour, deliver us , 
 not into the pains of eternal death !" 
 
 The melancholy rite ended, the party dispersed, the 
 strangers took their departure for their distant homes, and 
 quiet reigned once more in the small dark cottage. But 
 days and weeks brought to Edna no oblivion of the tragic 
 events which constituted the first great epoch of her mo- 
 notonous life. A nervous restlessness took possession of 
 her, she refused to occupy her old room, and insisted upon 
 sleeping on a pallet at the foot of her grandfather's bed. 
 She forsook her whilom haunts about the spring and forest, 
 and started up in terror at every sudden sound ; while from 
 each opening between the chestnut trees the hazel eyes of 
 the dead man, and the wan thin face of the golden-haired 
 wife, looked out beseechingly at her. Frequently, in the 
 warm light of day, ere shadows stalked to and fro in the 
 thick woods, she would steal, with an apronful of wild 
 flowers, to the solitary grave, scatter her treasures in the 
 rank grass that waved above it, and hurry away with 
 hushed breath and quivering limbs. Summer waned, au- 
 tumn passed, and winter came, but the girl recovered in no 
 degree from the shock which had cut short her chant of 
 praise on that bloody June day. In her "morning visit to 
 the spring, she had stumbled upon a monster which custom 
 had adopted and petted — which the passions and sinfulness 
 of men had adroitly draped and fondled, and called Honor- 
 able Satisfaction ; but her pure, unperverted, Ithuriel nature 
 pierced the conventional mask, recognized the loathsome 
 lineaments of crime, and recoiled in horror and amazement, 
 wondering at the wickedness of her race and the forbear-^ 
 ance of outraged Jehovah. Innocent childhood had for the^ 
 first time stood face to face with Sic and Death, and could 
 not forget the vision. 
 
ST. ELMO. 17 
 
 Edna Earl had lost both her parents before she was old 
 enough to remember either. Her mother was the only 
 daughter of Aaron Hunt, the village blacksmith, and her 
 father, who was an intelligent, promising young carpenter, 
 accidentally fell from the roof of the house which he was 
 shingling, and died from the injuries sustained. Thus Mr. 
 Hunt, who had been a widower for nearly ten years, found 
 himself burdened with the care of an infant only six 
 months old. His daughter had never left him, and after 
 her death the loneliness of the house oppressed him pain- 
 fully, and for the sake of his grandchild he resolved to 
 marry again. The middle-aged widow whom he selected 
 was a kind-hearted and generous woman, but indolent, ig- 
 norant, and exceedingly high-tempered ; and while she 
 really loved the little orphan committed to her care, she 
 contrived to alienate her affection, .;nd to tighten the bonds 
 of union between her husband and the child. Possessing 
 a remarkably amiable and equable disposition, Edna rarely 
 vexed Mrs. Hunt, who gradually left her more and more to 
 the indulgence of her own views and caprices, and content- 
 ed herself with exacting a certain amount of daily work, 
 after the accomplishment of which she allowed her to 
 amuse herself as childish whims dictated. There chanced 
 to be no children of her own age in the neighborhood, con- 
 sequently she grew up without companionship, save that 
 furnished by her grandfather; who was dotingly fond of 
 her, and would have utterly spoiled her, had not her 
 temperament fortunately been one not easily injured by un- 
 restrained liberty of action. Before she was able to walk, 
 he would take her to the forge, and keep her for hours on a 
 sheepskin in one corner, whence she watched, with infan- 
 tine delight, the blast of the furnace, and the shower of 
 l^arks that fell from the anvil, and where she often slept, 
 lulled by the monotonous chorus of trip and sledge. Aa 
 she grew older, the mystery of bellows and slack-tub en- 
 gaged her attention, and at one end of the shop, on a pilu 
 
18 ST. ELMO. 
 
 of shavings, she collected a mass of curiously shaped bits 
 of iron and steel, and blocks of wood, from which a minia- 
 ture shop threatened to rise in rivalry ; and finally, when 
 strong enough to grasp the handle of the bellows, her 
 greatest pleasure consisted in rendering the feeble assist- 
 ance which her grandfather was always so proud to accept 
 at her hands. Although ignorant and uncultivated, Mr. 
 Hunt was a man of warm, tender feelings, and rare nobility 
 of soul. He regretted the absence of early advantages 
 which poverty had denied him ; and in teaching Edna to 
 read, to write, and to cipher, he never failed to impress 
 upon her the vast superiority which a thorough educa- 
 tion confers. Whether his exhortations first kindled 
 her ambition, or whether her aspiration for knowledge was 
 spontaneous and irrepressible, he knew not ; but she mani- 
 fested very early a fondness for study and thirst for learn- 
 ing, which he gratified to the fullest extent of his limited 
 ability. The blacksmith's library consisted of the family 
 Bible, Pilgrim's Progress, a copy of Irving's Sermons 
 on Parables, Guy Mannering, a few tracts, and two 
 books which had belonged to an itinerant minister who 
 preached occasionally in the neighborhood, and who having 
 died rather suddenly at Mr. Hunt's house, left the volumes 
 in his saddle-bags, which were never claimed by his family, 
 residing in a distant State. Those books were Plutarch's 
 Lives and a worn school copy of Anthon's Classical Dic- 
 tionary ; and to Edna they proved a literary Ophir of ines- 
 timable value and exhaustless interest. Plutarch especially 
 was a Pisgah of letters, whence the vast domain of learn- 
 ing, the Canaan of human wisdom, stretched alluringly be- 
 fore her ; and as often as she climbed this height, and viewed 
 the wondrous scene beyond, it seemed indeed 
 
 "an arch wherethrough 
 
 Gleams that nntraveled world, whose margin fades 
 Forever and forever when we move." 
 
 In after years she sometimes questioned if this mount 
 
ST. ELMO. 19 
 
 of observation was also that of temptation, to which ambi- 
 tion had led her spirit and there bargained for and bought 
 her future. Love of nature, love of books, an earnest piety, 
 and deep religious enthusiasm, were the characteristics of a 
 noble young soul, left to stray through the devious, checkered 
 paths of life without other guidance than that which she 
 received from communion with Greek sages and Hebrew 
 prophets. An utter stranger to fashionable conventionality 
 and latitudinarian ethics, it was no marvel that the child 
 stared and shivered when she saw the laws of God vetoed, 
 and was blandly introduced to murder as Honorable Satis- 
 faction. 
 
CHAPTER H. 
 
 EARLY a mile from the small, straggling village 
 of Chattanooga stood Aaron Hunt's shop, shaded 
 by a grove of oak and chestn it trees, which grew 
 upon the knoll, where two roads intersected. Like 
 the majority of blacksmiths' shops at country cross-roads, it 
 was a low, narrow shed, filled with dust and rubbish, with old 
 wheels and new single-trees, broken plows and dilapidated 
 wagons awaiting repairs, and at the rear of the shop stood 
 a smaller shed, where an old gray horse quietly ate his corn 
 and fodder, waiting to carry the master to his home, two 
 miles distant, as soon as the sun had set beyond the neigh- 
 boring mountain. Early in winter, having an unusual 
 amount of work on hand, Mr. Hunt hurried away from 
 home one morning, neglecting to take the bucket which 
 contained his dinner, and Edna was sent to repair the over- 
 sight. Accustomed to ramble about the woods without 
 companionship, she walked leisurely along the rocky road, 
 swinging the tin bucket in one hand, and pausing now and 
 then to watch the shy red-birds that flitted like flame-jets in 
 and out of the trees as she passed. The unbroken repose 
 of earth and sky, the cold still atmosphere and peaceful 
 sunshine, touched her heart with a sense of quiet but pure 
 happiness, and half unconsciously she began a hymn which 
 her grandfather often sung over his anvil : 
 
 " Lord, in the morning Thou shalt hear 
 My voice ascending high ; 
 
ST. ELMO. 21 
 
 To Thee will I direct my prayer, 
 To Th.ee lift up mine eye." 
 
 Ere the first verse was ended, the clatter of horse's hoofs 
 hushed her song, and she glanced up as a harsh voice asked 
 impatiently" : 
 
 "Are you stone deaf? I say, is there a blacksmith's 
 shop near ?" 
 
 The rider reined in his horse, a spirited, beautiful animal, 
 and waited for an answer. 
 
 "Yes, sir. There is a shop about half a mile ahead, on 
 the right hand side, where the road forks." 
 
 He just touched his hat with the end of his gloved fingers 
 and galloped on. When Edna reached the shop she saw 
 her grandfather examining the horse's shoes, while the 
 stanger walked up and down the road before the forge. 
 He was a very tall, strong man, with a gray shawl thrown 
 over one shoulder, and a black fur hat drawn so far over 
 his face that only the lower portion was visible ; and this, 
 swarthy and harsh, left a most disagreeable impression on 
 the child's mind as she passed him and went up to the spot 
 where Mr. Hunt was at work. Putting the bucket behind 
 her, she stooped, kissed him on his furrowed forehead, and 
 said: 
 
 <c Grandpa, guess what brought me to see you to-day ?" 
 
 " I forgot my dinner, and you have trudged over here to 
 
 bring it. An't I right, Pearl ? Stand back, honey, or this 
 
 Satan of a horse may kick your brains out. I can hardly 
 
 manage him." 
 
 Here the stranger uttered an oath, and called out, " How 
 much longer do you intend to keep me waiting ?" 
 
 " No longer, sir, than I can help, as I like the company of 
 polite people." 
 
 " O grandpa !" whispered Edna deprecatingly, as she 
 saw the traveller come rapidly forward and throw his shawl 
 down on the grass. Mr. Hunt pushed back his old battered 
 
22 ST. ELMO. 
 
 woolen hat, and looked steadily at the master of the hois« 
 — saying gravely and resolutely : 
 
 " I'll finish the job as soon as I can, and that is as much 
 as any reasonable man would ask. Now, sir, if that doesn't 
 suit you, you can take your horse and put out, and swear at 
 somebody else, for I won't stand it." 
 
 "It is a cursed nuisance to be detained here for such a 
 trifle as one shoe, and you might hurry yourself." 
 
 " Your horse is very restless and vicious, and I could shoe 
 two gentle ones while I am trying to quiet him." 
 
 The man muttered something indistinctly, and laying his 
 hand heavily on the horse's mane, said very sternly a few 
 words, which were utterly unintelligible to his human 
 listeners, though they certainly exerted a magical influence 
 over the fiery creature, who, savage as the pampered pets of 
 Diomedes, soon stood tranquil and contented, rubbing his 
 head against his master's shoulder. Repelled by the rude 
 harshness of this man, Edna walked into the shop, and 
 watched the silent group outside, until the work was fin- 
 ished and Mr. Hunt threw down his tools and wiped hia 
 face. 
 
 " What do I owe you ?" said the impatient rider, spring- 
 ing to his saddle, and putting his hand into his vest pocket. 
 
 " I charge nothing for ' such trifles' as that." 
 
 " But I am in the habit of paying for my work." 
 
 " It is not worth talking about. Good day, sir." 
 
 Mr. Hunt turned and walked into his shop. 
 
 "There is a dollar, it is the only small change I have," 
 He rode up to the door of the shed, threw the small gold 
 coin toward the blacksmith, and was riding rapidly away, 
 when Edna darted after him, exclaiming, " Stop, sir ! you 
 have left your shawl !" 
 
 He turned in the saddle, and even under the screen of her 
 calico bonnet she felt the fiery gleam of his eyes, as ho 
 6tooped to take the shawl from her hand. Once more his 
 fingers touched his hat, he bowed and said hastily, 
 
ST. ELMO. 23 
 
 " I thank you, child." Then spurring his hoise, he was 
 out of sight in a moment. 
 
 " He is a rude, blasphemous, wicked man," said Mr. Hunt 
 as Edna reentered the shop, and picked up the coin, which 
 lay glistening amid the cinders around the anvil." 
 
 " Why do you think him wicked ?" 
 
 " No good man swears as he did, before you came ; and 
 didn't you notice the vicious, wicked expression of his eyes ?" 
 
 " No, sir, I did not see much of his face, he never looked 
 at me but once. I should not like to meet him again ; I am 
 afraid of him." 
 
 " Never fear, Pearl, he is a stranger here, and there's 
 little chance of your ever setting your eyes on his ugly 
 savage face again. Keep the money, dear ; I won't have it 
 after all the airs he put on. If, instead of shoeing his wild 
 brute, I had knocked the fellow down for his insolence in 
 cursing me, it would have served him right. Politeness is 
 a cheap thing ; and a 'poor man, if he behaves himself, and 
 does his work well, is as much entitled to it as the Presi- 
 dent." 
 
 " I will give the dollar to grandma, to buy a new coffee- 
 pot ; for she said to-day the old one was burnt out, and she 
 could not use it any longer. But what is that yonder on 
 the grass ? That man left something after all." 
 
 She picked up from the spot where he had thrown his 
 shawl a handsome morocco-bound pocket copy of Dante , 
 and opening it to discover the name of the owner, she saw 
 written on the fly-leaf in a bold but elegant and beautiful 
 hand, " 8. E. M., Boboli Gardens, Florence. JLasciate ogni 
 speranza voi cK entrate." 
 
 "What does this mean, Grandpa?" She held up the 
 book and pointed out the words of the dread inscription. 
 
 " Indeed, Pearl, how should I know ? It is Greek, or Latin, 
 or Dutch, like the other outlandish gibberish he talked to 
 that devilish horse. He must have spent his life among the 
 heathens, to judge from his talk; for he has neither man- 
 
24 ST. ELMO. 
 
 ners nor religion. Honey, better put the book there in th« 
 furnace ; it is not fit for your eyes." 
 
 "He may come back for it, if he misses it, pretty soon." 
 " Not he. One might almost believe that he was running 
 from the law. He would not turn back for it if it wa8 
 bound in gold instead of leather. It is no account, I'll 
 warrant, or he would not have been reading it, the ill-man- 
 nered heathen !" 
 
 Weeks passed, and as the owner was not heard of again, 
 Edna felt that she might justly claim as her own this most 
 marvellous of books, which, though beyond her comprehen- 
 sion, furnished a source of endless wonder and delight. 
 The copy was Gary's translation, with illustrations designed 
 by Flaxman ; and many of the grand gloomy passages were 
 underlined by pencil and annotated in the unknown tongue, 
 which so completely baffled her curiosity. Night and day 
 she pored over this new treasure ; sometimes dreaming of 
 the hideous faces that scowled at her from the solemn, 
 mournful pages ; and anon, when startled from sleep by these 
 awful visions, she would soothe herself to rest by murmur- 
 ing the metrical version of the Lord's Prayer contained in 
 the " Purgatory." Most emphatically did Mrs. Hunt dis- 
 approve of the studious and contemplative habits of the 
 ambitious child, who she averred was indulging dreams 
 and aspirations far above her station in life, and well calcu- 
 lated to dissatisfy her with her humble, unpretending home 
 and uninviting future. Education, she contended, was use- 
 less to poor people, who could not feed and clothe them- 
 selves with " book learning ;" and experience had taught 
 her that those who lounged about with books in their hands 
 generally came to want, and invariably to harm. It was in 
 vain that she endeavored to convince her husband of the 
 impropriety of permitting the girl to spend so much time 
 over her books ; he finally put the matter at rest by declar- 
 ing that, in his opinion, Edna was a remarkable child ; and 
 if well educated, might even rise to the position of teacher 
 
ST. ELMO. 25 
 
 for the neighborhood, which would confer most honorable 
 distinction upon the family. Laying his brawny hand fondly 
 on her head, he said tenderly : " Let her alone, wife ! let 
 her alone ! You will make us proud of you, won't you, 
 little Pearl, *vhen you are smart enough to teach a school ? 
 I shall be too old to work by that time, and you will take 
 care of me, won't you, my little mocking-bird ?" 
 
 "O Grandy! that I will. But do you really think I 
 ever shall ha^e sense enough to be a teacher ? You know 
 I ought to learn every thing, and I have so few books." 
 
 " To be sure you will. Remember there is always a way 
 where there's a will. When I pay off the debt I owe Peter 
 Wood, I will see what we can do about some new books. 
 Put on your shawl now, Pearl, and hunt up old Brindle, 
 it is milking time, and she is not in sight." 
 
 " Grandpa, are you sure you feel better this evening ?" 
 She plunged her fingers in his thick white hair, and rubbed 
 her round rosy cheek softly against his. 
 
 " Oh ! yes, I am better. Hurry back, Pearl, I want you 
 to read to me." 
 
 It was a bright day in January, and the old man sat in a 
 large rocking-chair on the porch, smoking his pipe, and sun- 
 ning himself in the last rays of the sinking sun. He had 
 complained all day of not feeling well, and failed to go to 
 his work as usual ; and now as his grandchild tied her pink 
 calico bonnet under her chin, and wrapped herself in her 
 faded plaid shawl, he watched her with a tender loving 
 light in his keen gray eyes. She kissed him, buttoned his 
 shirt-collar, which had become unfastened, drew his home- 
 spun coat closer to his throat, and springing down the steps 
 bounded away in search of the cow, who often strayed so 
 far off that she was dispatched to drive her home. In the 
 grand, peaceful, solemn woods, through which the wintry 
 wind now sighed in a soothing monotone, the child's spirit 
 reached an exaltation which, had she lived two thousand 
 years earlier, and roamed amid the vales and fastnesses of 
 
26 ST. ELMO, 
 
 classic Arcadia, would have vented itself in ilithyraiabk/a 
 to the great " Lord of the Hyle," the Greek " All," the 
 horned and hoofed god, Pan. In every age, and among all 
 people — from the Parsee devotees and the Gosains of India 
 to the Pantheism of Bruno, Spinoza, and New-England's 
 "Mlurninati " — nature has been apotheosized ; and the heart 
 of the blacksmith's untutored darling stirred with the same 
 emotions of awe and adoration which thrilled the worship- 
 ers of Hertha, when the vailed chariot stood in Helgeland, 
 and which made the groves and grottoes of Phrygia sacred 
 to Dindymene. Edna loved trees and flowers, stars and 
 clouds, with a warm clinging aifection, as she loved those 
 of her own race ; and that solace and amusement which 
 most children find in the society of children and the sports 
 of childhood this girl derived from the solitude and se- 
 renity of nature. To her woods and fields were indeed 
 vocal, and every flitting bird and gurgling brook, every 
 passing cloud and whispering breeze, brought messages of 
 God's eternal love and wisdom, and drew her tender yearn- 
 ing heart more closely to Jehovah, the Lord God Om- 
 nipotent. To-day, in the boundless reverence and religious 
 enthusiasm of her character, she directed her steps to a 
 large spreading oak, now leafless, where in summer she 
 often came to read and pray ; and here falling on her knees 
 she thanked God for the blessings .showered upon her. 
 Entirely free from discontent and querulousness, she was 
 thoroughly happy in her poor humble home, and over all, 
 like a consecration, shone the devoted love for her grand- 
 father, which more than compensated for any want of which 
 she might otherwise have been conscious. Accustomed 
 always to ask special favor for him, his name now passed 
 her lips in earnest supplication, and she fervently thanked 
 the Father that his threatened illness had been arrested 
 without serious consequences. The sun had gone down 
 when she rose and hurried on in search of the cow. The 
 shadows of a winter evening gathered in the forest and 
 
6T. ELMO. 27 
 
 climbed like trooping spirits up the rocky mountain side • 
 and as she plunged deeper and deeper into the wcods, the 
 child began a wild cattle call which she was wont to use 
 on such occasions- The echoes rang out a weird Brocken 
 chorus, and at last, when she was growing impatient of the 
 fruitless search, she paused to listen, and heard the welcome 
 sound of the familiar lowing, by which the old cow recog- 
 nized her summons. Following the sound, Edna soon saw 
 the missing favorite coming slowly toward her, and ere 
 many moments both were running homeward. As she 
 approached the house, driving Brindle before her, and 
 merrily singing her rude Manz des vaches, the moon rose 
 full and round, and threw a flood of light over the porch 
 where the blacksmith still sat. Edna took off her bonnet 
 and waved it at him, but he did not seem to notice the 
 signal, and driving the cow into the yard, she called out as 
 she latched the gate : 
 
 " Grandy, dear, why don't you go in to the fire ? Are yon 
 waiting for me, out here in the cold ? I think Brindle cer- 
 tainly must have been cropping grass around the old walls 
 of Jericho, as that is the farthest off of any place I know. 
 If she is half as tired and hungry as I am, she ought to be 
 glad to get home." He did not answer, and running up 
 the steps she thought he had fallen asleep. The old wool- 
 en hat shaded his face, but when she crept on tiptoe to the 
 chair, stooped, put her arms around him, and kissed his 
 wrinkled cheek, she started back in terror. The eyes stared 
 at the moon, the stiff fingers clutched the pipe from which 
 the ashes had not been shaken, and the face was cold and 
 rigid. Aaron Hunt had indeed fallen asleep, to wake no 
 more amid the storms and woes and tears of time. 
 
 Edna fell on her knees and grasped the icy hands. " Grand- 
 pa, wake up ! O Grandpa ! speak to me, your little pearl I 
 Wake up, dear Grandy ! I have come back ! My Grand- 
 pa! Oh! " 
 
 A wild, despairing cry rent the still evening air, and 
 
28 ST. ELMO. 
 
 shrieked dismally back from the distant hills and ihe gray 
 ghostly mountain — and the child fell on her face at the dead 
 man's feet. 
 
 Throughout that dreary night of agony, Edna lay on the 
 bed where her grandfather's body had been placed, holding 
 one of the stiffened hands folded in both hers, and pressed 
 against her lips. She neither wept nor moaned, the shock 
 was too terrible to admit of noisy grief; but completely 
 stunned, she lay mute and desolate. 
 
 For the first time in her life she could not pray ; sha 
 wanted to turn away from the thought of God and hea- 
 ven, for it seemed that she had nothing left to pray for. 
 That silver-haired, wrinkled old man was the only 
 father she had ever known; he had cradled her in his 
 sinewy arms, and slept clasping her to his heart; had 
 taught her to walk, and surrounded her with his warm, 
 pitying love, making a home of peace and blessedness 
 for her young life. Giving him, in return, the whole wealth 
 of her affection, he had become the centre of all her hopes, 
 joys, and aspirations ; now what remained ? Bitter rebel- 
 lious feelings hardened her heart when she remembered 
 that even while she was kneeling, thanking God for his pres- 
 ervation from illness, he had already passed away ; nay, 
 his sanctified spirit probably poised its wings close to the 
 Eternal Throne, and listened to the prayer which she sent 
 up to God for his welfare and happiness and protection 
 while on earth. The souls of our dead need not the aid of 
 Sandalphon to interpret the whispers that rise tremulously 
 from the world of sin and wrestling, that float up among 
 the stars, through the gates of pearl, down the golden 
 streets of the New Jerusalem. So we all trust, and prate 
 of our faith, and deceive ourselves with the fond hope that 
 we are resigned to the Heavenly Will ; and we go on with 
 a show of Christian reliance, while the morning sun smiles 
 in gladness and plenty, and the hymn of happy days and 
 the dear voices of our loved ones make music in our ears ; 
 
ST. ELMO. 29 
 
 and lo ! God puts us in the crucible. The lig.it of life — 
 the hope of all future years is blotted out ; clouds of despair 
 and the grim night of an unbroken and unlifting desolation 
 fall like a pall on heart and brain ; we dare not look heav 
 enward, dreading another blow; our anchor drags, we drift 
 out into a hideous Dead Sea, where our idol has gone down 
 forever — and boasted faith and trust and patience are 
 swept like straws from our grasp in the tempest of woe ; 
 while our human love cries wolfishly for its lost darling, 
 and the language of fierce rebellion is, " I care not what is 
 left or taken ! What is there in earth or heaven to hope 
 or to pray for now ?" Ah ! we build grand and gloomy 
 mausoleums for our precious dead hopes, but, like Artemisia, 
 we refuse to sepulchre — we devour the bitter ashes of the 
 lost, and grimly and audaciously challenge Jehovah to take 
 the worthless, mutilated life that his wisdom reserves for 
 other aims and future toils ! Job's wife is immortal and 
 ubiquitous, haunting the sorrow-shrouded chamber of every 
 stricken human soul, and fiendishly prompting the bleeding, 
 crushed spirit to " curse God and die." Edna had never 
 contemplated the possibility of her grandfather's death — it 
 was a horror she had never forced herself to front; and now 
 that he was cut down in an instant, without even the 
 mournful consolation of parting words and farewell kisses, 
 she asked herself again and again : " What have I done, 
 that God should punish me so ? I thought I was grateful, 
 I thought I was doing my duty ; but oh ! what dreadful 
 sin have I committed, to deserve this awful affliction ?" 
 During the long ghostly watches of that winter night, she 
 recalled her past life, gilded by the old man's love, and 
 could remember no happiness with which he was not inti 
 mately connected, and no sorrow that his hand had not 
 soothed and lightened. The future was now a blank, cross- 
 ed by no projected paths, lit with no ray of hope ; and at 
 daylight, when the cold pale morning showed the stony 
 face of the corpse at her side, her unnatural composure 
 
30 ST. ELMO. 
 
 broke up in a storm of passionate woe, and she sprang to 
 her feet, almost frantic with the sense of her loss : 
 
 " All alone ! nobody to love me ! nothing to look forward 
 to \ O Grandpa ! did you hear me praying for you yester- 
 day ? Dear Grandy — my own dear Grauc y ! I did pray for 
 you while you were dying — here alone ! O my God ! what 
 have I done, that you should take him away from me? 
 Was not I on my knees when he died ? Oh ! what will 
 become of me now ? Nobody to care for Edna now ! 
 Grandpa ! Grandpa ! beg Jesus to ask God to take me too !" 
 And throwing up her clasped hands, she sank back insensi- 
 ble on the shrouded form of the dead. 
 
 " When some beloved voice that was to you 
 Both sound and sweetness, faileth suddenly, 
 And silence, against which you dare not cry, 
 Aches round you like a strong disease and new — 
 What hope ? what help ? what music will undo 
 That silence to your senses ? Not friendship's sigh ; 
 Not reason's subtle count. Nay, none of these 1 
 Sl»e»k Thou, availing Christ ! and fill this pause." 
 
CHAPTER in. 
 
 IF all that transpired during many ensuing weeks 
 Edna knew little. She retained, in after years, 
 only a vague, confused remembrance of keen 
 anguish and utter prostration, and an abiding 
 sense of irreparable loss. In delirious visions she saw her 
 grandfather now struggling in the grasp of Phlegyas, and 
 now writhing in the fiery tomb of Uberti, with jets of 
 flame leaping through his white hair, and his shrunken 
 hands stretched appealingly toward her, as she had seen 
 those of the doomed Ghibelline leader, in the hideous Dante 
 picture. All the appalling images evoked by the sombre 
 and embittered imagination of the gloomy Tuscan had 
 seized upon her fancy, even in happy hours, and were now 
 reproduced by her disordered brain in multitudinous and 
 aggravated forms. Her wails of agony, her passionate 
 prayers to God to release the beloved spirit from the tor- 
 tures which her delirium painted, were painful beyond ex- 
 pression to those who watched her ravings ; and it was with 
 a feeling of relief that they finally saw her sink into apathy— 
 into a quiet mental stupor — from which nothing seemed to 
 rouse her. She did not remark Mrs. Hunt's absence, or the 
 presence of the neighbors at her bedside. And one morn* 
 ing, when she Was wrapped up and placed by the fire, Mrs. 
 Wood told her as gently as possible that her grandmother 
 had died from a disease which was ravaging the country, 
 and supposed to be cholera. The intelligence produced no 
 emotion j she merely looked up an instant, glanced mcurn- 
 
32 ST. ELMO. 
 
 fully around the dreary room, and, shivering slightly, diooped 
 her head again on her hand. Week after week went slowly 
 by, and she was removed to Mrs. Wood's housa, but no im- 
 provement was discernible, and the belief became general 
 that the child's mind had sunk into hopeless imbecility. 
 The kind-hearted miller and his wife endeavored to coax 
 her out of her chair by the chimney-corner, bu x she crouched 
 there, a wan, mute figure of woe, pitiable to contemplate ; 
 asking no questions, causing no trouble, receiving no con- 
 solation. One bright March morning she sat, as usual, with 
 her face bowed on her thin hand, and her vacant gaze fixed 
 on the blazing fire, when, through the open window, came 
 the impatient lowing of a cow. Mrs. Wood saw a change 
 pass swiftly over the girl's face, and a quiver cross the lips 
 so long frozen. She lifted her head, rose, and followed the 
 sound, and soon stood at the side of Brindle, vrho now fur- 
 nished milk for the miller's family. As the gentle cow re- 
 cognized and looked at her, with an expression almost hu- 
 man in the mild, liquid eyes, all the events of that last 
 serene evening swept back to Edna's deadened memory, 
 and, leaning her head on Brindle's horns, she sned the first 
 tears that had flowed for her great loss, while, sobs, thick 
 and suffocating, shook her feeble, emaciated frame. 
 
 "Bless the poor little outcast, she will get well now. 
 That is just exactly what she needs. I .tell yoa, Peter, one 
 good cry like that is worth a wagon-load of physic. Don't 
 go near her ; let her have her cry out. Poor thing ! It 
 an't often you see a child love her grand-aaddy as she 
 loves Aaron Hunt. Poor lamb !" 
 
 Mrs. Wood wiped her own eyes, and went back to her 
 weaving ; and Edna turned away from the mill and walked 
 to her deserted home, while the tears poured ceaselessly 
 over her white cheeks. As she approached the old house 
 she saw that it was shut up and neglected ; but when she 
 opened the gate, Grip, the fierce yellow terror of the 
 whole neighborhoodj sprang from the door-step, where he 
 
ST. ELMO. 33 
 
 kept guard as tirelessly as Maida, and, with a disinal whine 
 of welcome, leaped up and put his paws on her shoulders. 
 This had been the blacksmith's pet, fed by his hand, chained 
 when he went to the shop, and released at his return ; and 
 grim and repulsively ugly though he was, he was the only 
 playmate Edna had ever known; had gamboled around 
 her cradle, slept with her on the sheepskin, and frolicked 
 with her through the woods, in many a long search for 
 Brindle. He alone remained of all the happy past; and as 
 precious memories crowded mournfully up, she sat upon the 
 steps of the dreary homestead, with her arms around his 
 neck, and wept bitterly. After an hour she left the house, 
 and, followed by the dog, crossed the woods in the direc- 
 tion of the neighborhood graveyard. In order to reach it 
 she was forced to pass by the spring and the green hillock 
 where Mr. and Mrs. Dent slept side by side, but no nervous 
 terror seized her now as formerly ; the great present horror 
 swallowed up all others, and, though she trembled from 
 physical debility, she. dragged herself on till the rude, rough 
 paling of the burying-ground stood before her. O dreary 
 desolation ! thy name is country graveyard ! Here no 
 polished sculptured stela pointed to the Eternal Rest be 
 yond ; no classic marbles told, in gilded characters, the vir 
 tues of the dead ; no flowery-fringed gravel-walks wound 
 from murmuring waterfalls and rippling fountains to crys- 
 tal lakes, where trailing willows threw their flickering 
 shadows over silver-dusted lilies ; no spicy perfume of pur- 
 ple heliotrope and starry jasmine burdened the silent air ; 
 none of the solemn beauties and soothing charms of Green- 
 wood or Mount Auburn wooed the mourner from her 
 weight of woe. But decaying head-boards, green with the 
 lichen-fingered touch of time, leaned over neglected mounds, 
 where last year's weeds shivered in the sighing breeze, and 
 autumn winds and winter rains had drifted a brown shroud 
 of shriveled leaves; while here and there meek-eyed sheep 
 lay sunning thems3lves upon the trampled graves, and the 
 
34 ST. ELMO. 
 
 slow-measured sound of a bell dirged now and then as cat- 
 tle browsed on the scanty herbage in this most neglected 
 of God's Acres. Could Charles Lamb have turned from the 
 pompous epitaphs and high-flown panegyrics of that Eng- 
 lish cemetery, to the rudely-lettered boards which here 
 briefly told the names and ages of the sleepers in these nar- 
 row beds, he had never asked the question which now 
 Btands as a melancholy epigram on family favoritism and 
 human frailty. Gold gilds even the lineaments and haunts 
 of Death, making Pere la Chaise a favored spot for fetes 
 champetres / while poverty hangs neither vail nor mask 
 over the grinning ghoul, and flees, superstition-spurred, 
 from the hideous precincts. 
 
 In one corner of the inclosure, where Edna's parents 
 slept, she found the new mounds that covered the remains 
 of those who had nurtured and guarded her young life ; 
 and on an unpainted board was written in large letters : 
 
 " To the memory of Aaron Hunt : an honest blacksmith, 
 and true Christian ; aged sixty-eight years and six months." 
 
 Here, with her head on her grandfather's grave, and the 
 faithful dog crouched at her feet, lay the orphan, wrestling 
 with grief and loneliness, striving to face a future that 
 loomed before her spectre-thronged ; and here Mr. Wood 
 found her when anxiety at her long absence induced his 
 wife to institute a search for the missing invalid. The 
 storm of sobs and tears had spent itself, fortitude took the 
 measure of the burden imposed, shouldered the galling 
 weight, and henceforth, with" un dimmed vision, walked 
 steadily to the appointed goal. The miller was surprised 
 to find her so calm, and as they went homeward she asked 
 the particulars of all that had occurred, and thanked him 
 grarely but cordially for all the kind care bestowed upon 
 her, and for the last friendly offices performed for her 
 grandfather. 
 
 Conscious of her complete helplessness and physical pros- 
 tration, she ventured no allusion to the future, but waited 
 
ST. ELMO. 35 
 
 patiently un/il renewed strength permitted the execution 
 of designs now fully mapped out. Notwithstanding her 
 feebleness, she rendered herself invaluable to Mrs. Wood, 
 who praised her dexterity and neatness as a seamstress, 
 and predicted that she would make a model housekeeper. 
 
 Late one Sunday evening in May, as the miller and his 
 wife sat upon the steps of their humble and comfortless 
 looking home, they saw Edna slowly approaching, and sur- 
 mised where she had spent the afternoon. Instead of going 
 into the house she seated herself beside them, and, removing 
 her bonnet, traces of tears were visible on her sad but pa- 
 tient face. 
 
 " You ought not to go over yonder so often, child. It is 
 not good for you," said the miller, knocking the ashes from 
 his pipe. 
 
 She shaded her countenance with her hand, and after a 
 moment said, in a low but steady tone : 
 
 " I shall never go there again. I have said good-by to 
 every thing, and have nothing now to keep me here. You 
 and Mrs. Wood have been very kind to me, and I thank 
 you heartily ; but you have a family of children, and have 
 your hands full to support them without taking care of me. 
 I know that our house must go to you to pay that old debt, 
 and even the horse and cow ; and there will be nothing left 
 when you are paid. You are very good, indeed, to offer me 
 a home here, and I never can forget ycur kindness ; but I 
 should not be willing to live on any body's charity ; and 
 besides, all the world is alike to me now, and I want to get 
 out of sight of — of — what shows my sorrow to me every 
 day. I don't love this place now ; it won't let me forget, 
 even for a minute, and — and " 
 
 Here the voice faltered and she paused. 
 
 " But where could you go, and how could you make 
 your bread, you poor little ailing thing ?" 
 
 "I hear that in the town of Columbus, Georgia, even 
 little children get wages to work in the factory, and I know 
 
36 &?■ ELMO. 
 
 I can earn enough to pay my board among the iattoij 
 people." 
 
 " But you are too young to be straying about in a strange 
 place. If you will stay here, and help my wife about the 
 nouse and the weaving, I will take good car:: of you, and 
 clothe you till you are grown and married." 
 
 " I would rather go away, because I want to be educated, 
 and I can't be if I stay here." 
 
 " Fiddlestiok ! you will know as much as the balance of 
 us, and that's all you will ever have any use for. I notice 
 you have a hankering after books, but the quicker you get 
 that foolishness out of your head the better; for books 
 won't put bread in your mouth and clothes on your back ; 
 and folks that want to be better than their neighbors gener- 
 ally turn out worse. The less book-learning you women 
 have the better." 
 
 " I don't see that it is any of your business, Peter Wood, 
 how much learning we women choose to get, provided your 
 bread is baked and your socks darned when you want 'em. 
 A woman has as good a right as a man to get book-learn- 
 ing, if she wants it ; and as for sense, I'll thank you, mine is 
 as good as yours any day ; and folks have said it was a 
 blessed thing for the neighborhood when the rheumatiz laid 
 Peter Wood up, and his wife, Dorothy Elmivi Wood, run 
 the mill. Now, it's of no earthly use to cut at us women 
 over that child's shoulders ; if she wants an education she 
 has as much right to it as any body, if she ran pay for it. 
 My doctrine is, every body has a right to whatever they 
 can pay for, whether it is schooling or a satin ..rock !" 
 
 Mrs Wood seized her snuff-bottle and phriged a stick 
 vigorously into the contents, and, as the miller showed no 
 disposition to skirmish, she continued : 
 
 "I take an interest in you, Edna Earl, berause I loved 
 your mother, who was the only sweet-temuered beauty 
 that ever I knew. I think I never set my eyes on a prettier 
 face, with big brown eyes as meek as a pai ridge's ; and 
 
ST. ELMO. 37 
 
 then her hanls and feet were as small as a queen s. New, 
 as long as you are satisfied to stay here I shall be glad to 
 have you, and I will do as well for you as for my own 
 Tabitha ; but, if you are bent on factory work and school 
 ing, I have got no more to say ; for I have no right to say 
 where you shall go or where you shall stay. But one thing 
 I do want to tell you : it is a serious thing for a poor, moth- 
 erless girl to be all alone among strangers." 
 
 There was a brief silence, and Edna answered slowly : 
 
 "Yes, Mrs. Wood, I know it is; but God can protect mo 
 there as well as here, and I have none now but Him. 1 
 have made up my mind to go, because I think it is the best 
 for me, and I hope Mr. Wood will carry me to the Chatta- 
 nooga depot to-morrow morning, as the train leaves early. 
 I have a little money — seven dollars — that — that grandpa 
 gave me at different times, and both Brindle's calves belong 
 to me — he gave them to me — and I thought may be you 
 would pay me a few dollars for them." 
 
 " But you are not ready to start to-morrow." 
 
 " Yes, sir, I washed and ironed my clothes yesterday, and 
 what few I have are all packed in my box. Every thing is 
 ready now, and, as I have to go, I might as well start to- 
 morrow." 
 
 "Don't you think you will get dreadfully home-sick in 
 about a month, and write to me to come and fetch you 
 back ?" 
 
 " I have no home and nobody to love me, how then can I 
 ever be home-sick ? Grandpa's grave is all the home I 
 have, and — and — God would not take me there when I was 
 
 so sick, and — and " The quiver of her face showed that 
 
 she was losing her self-control, and turning away, she took 
 the cedar piggin, and went out to milk Brindle for the last 
 time. 
 
 Feeling that they had no right to dictate her future 
 course, neither 'the miller nor his wife offered any further 
 apposition, and very early the next morning, after Mra 
 
88 ST. ELMO. 
 
 "Wood had given the girl what she called " some good 
 motherly advice," and provided her with a basket contain- 
 ing food for the journey, she kissed her heartily several 
 times and saw her stowed away in the miller's covered cart 
 which was to convey her to the depot. The road ran by 
 the old blacksmith's shop, and Mr. Wood's eyes filled as he 
 noticed the wistful, lingering, loving gaze which the girl 
 fixed upon it, until a grove of trees shut out the view; 
 then the head bowed itself and a stifled moan reached his 
 en.rs. 
 
 The engine, whistled as they approached the depot, and 
 Edna was hurried aboard the train, while her companion 
 busied himself in transferring her box of clothing to the 
 baggage-car. She had insisted on taking her grandfathers 
 dog with her, and, notwithstanding the horrified looks of 
 the passengers and the scowl of the conductor, he followed 
 her into the car and threw himself under the seat, glaring 
 at all who passeS and looking as hideously savage as the 
 Norse Managarmar. 
 
 "You can't have a whole seat to yourself, and nobody 
 wants to sit near that ugly brute," said the surly con- 
 ductor. 
 
 Edna glanced down the aisle, and saw two young gentle- 
 men stretched at full length on separate seats, eyeing her 
 curiously. 
 
 Observing that the small seat next to the door was partially 
 filled with the baggage of the parties who sat in front of it, 
 she rose and called the dog, saying to the conductor as she 
 did so ; 
 
 " I will take that half of a seat yonder, where I will be in 
 nobody's way." 
 
 Here Mr. Wood came forward, thrust her ticket into her 
 fingers, and shook her hand warmly, saying hurriedly : 
 
 "Hold on to your ticket, and don't put your head out ol 
 
 the window. I told the conductor he must look after you 
 
 ad your box when you left the cars; said he would, 
 
8T. ELMO 89 
 
 Good-by, Edna ; take care of your s seJ", and may Gtoi bless 
 you, child." 
 
 The locomotive whistled, the train moved slowly on, and 
 the miller hastened back to his cart. 
 
 As the engine got fully under way, and dashed around a 
 curve, the small, straggling village disappeared, trees and 
 hills seemed to the orphan to fly past the window ; and 
 when she leaned out and looked back, only the mist-mantled 
 rocks of Lookout, and the dim purplish outline of the Se- 
 quatchie heights were familiar. 
 
 In the shadow of that solitary sentinel peak her life had 
 been passed ; she had gathered chestnuts and chincapins 
 among its wooded clefts, and clambered over its gray 
 boulders • as fearlessly as the young llamas of the Parime ; 
 and now, as it rapidly receded and finally vanished, she 
 felt as if the last link that bound her to the past had sud- 
 denly snapped ; the last friendly face which had daily looked 
 down on her for twelve years was shut out forever, and she 
 and Grip were indeed alone, in a great struggling world of 
 selfishness and sin. The sun shone dazzlingly over wide 
 fields of grain, whose green billows swelled and surged 
 under the freshening breeze ; golden butterflies fluttered 
 over the pink and blue morning-glories that festooned the 
 rail-fences ; a brakeman whistled merrily on the platform, 
 and children inside the car prattled and played, while at 
 one end a slender little girlish figure, in homespun dress 
 and pink calico bonnet, crouched in a corner of the seat, 
 staring back in the direction of hooded Lookout, feeling that 
 each instant bore her farther from the dear graves of her 
 dead ; and oppressed with an intolerable sense of desolation 
 and utter isolation in the midst of hundreds of her own race, 
 who were too entirely absorbed in their individual specula 
 tions, fears, and aims, to spare even a glance at that solitary 
 young mariner, who saw the last headland fade from view. 
 and found herself, with no pilot but ambition, drifting rapid- 
 ly out on the great, unknown, treacherous Sea of Life, strewn 
 
40 ST. ELMO. 
 
 with mournful human wrecks, whom the charts and buoy s 
 of six thousand years of navigation could not guide to a 
 haven of usefulness and peace. Interminable seemed the 
 dreary day, which finally drew to a close, and Edna, who 
 was weary of her cramped position, laid her aching head on 
 the window-sill, and watched the red light of day die in the 
 west, where a young moon hung her silvery crescent among 
 the dusky tree-tops, and the stars flashed out thick and fast. 
 Far away among strangers, uncared for and unnoticed, come 
 what might, she felt that God's changeless stars smiled down 
 as lovingly upon her face as on her grandfather's grave ; 
 and that the cosmopolitan language of nature knew neither 
 the modifications of time and space, the distinctions of social 
 caste, nor the limitations of national dialects. 
 
 As the night wore on, she opened the cherished copy of 
 Dante and tried to read, but the print was too fine for the 
 dim lamp which hung at some distance from her corner. 
 Her head ached violently, and, as sleep was impossible, she 
 put the book back in her pocket, and watched the flitting 
 trees and fences, rocky banks, and occasional houses, which 
 seemed weird in the darkness. As silence deepened in the 
 car, her sense of loneliness became more and more painful, 
 and finally she turned and pressed her cheek against the 
 fair chubby hand of a baby, who slept with its curly head 
 on its mother's shoulder, and its little dimpled arm and hand 
 hanging over the back of the seat. There was comfort and 
 a soothing sensation of human companionship in the touch 
 of that baby's hand ; it seemed a link in the electric chain 
 of sympathy, and, after a time, the orphan's eyes closed — ■ 
 fatigue conquered memory and sorrow, and she fell asleep, 
 with her lips pressed to those mesmeric baby fingers, and 
 Grip's head resting against her knee. 
 
 Diamond-powdered " lilies of the field " folded their pei 
 fumed petals under the Syrian dew, wherewith God nightly 
 baptized them in token of His ceaseless guardianship, and 
 the sinless world of birds, the " fowls of the air," those 
 
ST. ELMO. 41 
 
 secure and blithe, yet improvident, little gle^r era : :n S-oI'a 
 granary, nestled serenely under the shadow of the Almighty 
 wing; but was the all-seeing, all-directing Eye likewise 
 upon that desolate and destitute young mourner who sank 
 to rest with " Our Father which art in heaven " upon her 
 trembling lips ? Was it a decree in the will and wisdom 
 of our God, or a fiat from the blind fumbling of Atheistic 
 Chance, or was it in accordance with the rigid edict of 
 Pantheistic Necessity, that at that instant the cherubim of 
 death swooped down on the sleeping passengers, and 
 silver cords and golden bowls were rudely snapped and 
 crushed, amid the crash of timbers, the screams of women 
 and children, and the groans of tortured men, that made 
 night hideous? Over the holy hills of Judea, out of 
 crumbling Jerusalem, the message of Messiah has floated 
 on the wings of eighteen centuries : " What I do thou 
 knowest not now, but thou shalt know hereafter." 
 
 Edna was awakened by a succession of shrill sounds, 
 which indicated that the engineer was either frightened or 
 frantic ; the conductor rushed bare-headed through the 
 car ; people sprang to their feet ; there was a scramble on 
 the platform ; then a shock and crash as if the day of dcom 
 had dawned — and all was chaos ! 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 'WED by the aid of lanterns and the lurid, 
 flickering light of torches, the scene of disaster 
 presented a ghastly debris of dead and dying, 
 of crushed cars and wounded men and women, 
 who writhed and groaned among the shattered timbers 
 from which they found it impossible to extricate themselves. 
 The cries of those who recognized relatives in the muti- 
 lated corpses that were dragged out from the wreck in- 
 creased the horrors of the occasion ; and when Edna opened 
 her eyes amid the flaring of torches and the piercing wails 
 of the bereaved passengers, her first impression was, that 
 she had died and gone to Dante's " Hell ;" but the pangs 
 that seized her when she attempted to move soon dispelled 
 this frightful illusion, and by degrees the truth presented 
 itself to her blunted faculties. She was held fast between 
 timbers, one of which seemed to have fallen across her feet 
 and crushed them, as she was unable to move them, and 
 was conscious of a horrible sensation of numbness ; one 
 arm, too, was pinioned at her side, and something heavy 
 and cold lay upon her throat and chest. Lifting this 
 weight with her uninjured hand, she uttered an exclamation 
 of horror as the white face of the little baby whose fingers 
 she had clasped now met her astonished gaze ; and she 
 saw that the sweet coral lips were pinched and purple, the 
 waxen lids lay rigid over the blue eyes, and the dimpled 
 hand was stiff and icy. The confusion increased as day 
 broke, and a large crowd collected to offer assistance, and 
 
ST. ELMO. 43 
 
 Edna watched her approaching deliverers as .hey ju„. their 
 way through the wreck and lifted out the wretched suffer- 
 ers. Finally two men, with axes in their hands, bent down 
 and looked into her face. 
 
 "Here is a live child and a dead baby wedged in between 
 these beams ! Are you much hurt, little one ?" 
 
 " Yes, I believe I am. Please take this log off my feet." 
 
 It was a difficult matter, but at length strong arms raised 
 her, carried her some distance from the ruins, and placed 
 her on the grass, where several other persons were writhing 
 and groaning. The collision, which precipitated the train 
 from trestle-work over a deep ravine, had occurred near a 
 village depot, and two physicians were busily engaged in 
 examining the wounded. The sun had risen, and shone 
 full on Edna's pale suffering face, when one of the surgeons, 
 with a countenance that indexed earnest sympathy and 
 compassion, came to investigate the extent of her injuries, 
 and sat down on the grass beside her. Yery tenderly he 
 handled her, and after a few moments said gently : 
 
 " I am obliged to hurt you a little, my child, for your 
 shoulder is dislocated, and some of the bones are broken in 
 your feet ; but I will be as tender as possible. Here, Len- 
 nox ! help me." 
 
 The pain was so intense that she fainted, and after a 
 short time, when she recovered her consciousness, her feet 
 and ankles were tightly bandaged, and the doctor was 
 chafing her hands and bathing her face with some powerful 
 extract. Smoothing back her hair, he said : 
 
 " Were your parents on the cars ? Do you know whe- 
 ther they are hurt ? " 
 
 " They both died when I was a baby." 
 
 " Who was with you ?" 
 
 " Nobody but Grip — my dog." 
 
 " Had you no relatives or friends on the train ?" 
 
 " I have none. I am all alone in the world." 
 
 " Where did you come from ?" 
 
44 ^T 7 . JLMO. 
 
 " Chattanooga." 
 
 " Where were you going ?" 
 
 " My grandpa died, and as I had nobody to take care of 
 me, I was going to Columbus, to work in the cotton fac- 
 tory." 
 
 " Humph ! Much work you will do for many a long 
 day." 
 
 He stroked his grayish beard, and mused a moment, and 
 Edna said timidly : 
 
 " If you please, sir, I would like to knew if my dog is 
 hurt ?" 
 
 The physician smiled, and looked around inquiringly : 
 
 " Has any one seen a dog that was on the train ?" 
 
 One of the brakemen, a stout Irishman, took his pipe 
 from his mouth, and answered : 
 
 " Aye, aye, sir ! and as vicious a brute as ever I set eyes 
 on. Both his hind-legs were smashed — dragged so — and 
 I tapped him on the head with an ax to put him out of his 
 misery. Yonder he lies now on the track." 
 
 Edna put her hand over her eyes, and turned her face 
 down on the grass to hide tears that would not be 
 driven back. Here the surgeon w r as called away, and for a 
 half hour the child lay there, wondering what would be- 
 come of her, in her present crippled and helpless condition, 
 and questioning in her heart why G-od did not take her in- 
 stead of that dimpled darling, whose parents were now 
 weeping so bitterly for the untimely death that mowed 
 their blossom ere its petals were expanded. The chilling 
 belief was fast gaining ground that God had cursed and 
 forsaken her; that misfortune and bereavement would dog 
 her steps through life ; and a hard, bitter expression settled 
 about her mouth, and looked out gloomily from the sad 
 eyes. Her painful reverie was interrupted by the cheery 
 voice of Dr. Rodney, who came back, accompanied by an 
 elegantly-dressed middle-aged lady. 
 
 " Ah my brave little soldier ! Tell us your name ?" 
 
ST. ELMO. 45 
 
 " Edna Earl." 
 
 "Have you no relatives?" asked the lady, sloping to 
 scrutinize her face. 
 
 " No, ma'am." 
 
 " She is a very pretty child, Mrs. Murray, and if you can 
 take care of her, even for a few weeks, until she is able to 
 walk about, it will be a real charity. I never saw so much 
 fortitude displayed by one so young ; but her fever is in- 
 creasing, and she needs immediate attention. Will it be 
 convenient for you to carry her to your house at once ?" 
 
 " Certainly, doctor ; order the carriage driven up as close 
 as possible. 1 brought a small mattress, and think the ride 
 will not be very painful. What splendid eyes she has! 
 Poor little thing ! Of course you will come and prescribe 
 for her, and I will see that she. is carefully nursed until she 
 is quite well again. Here, Henry, you and Richard must 
 lift this child, and put her on the mattress in the carriage. 
 Mind you do not stumble and hurt her." 
 
 During the ride neither spoke, and Edna was in so much 
 pain that she lay with her eyes closed. As they entered a 
 long avenue, the rattle of the wheels on the gravel aroused 
 the child's attention, and when the carriage stopped, and 
 she was carried up a flight of broad marble steps, she saw 
 that the house was very large and handsome. 
 
 " Bring her into the room next to mine," said Mrs. Mur- 
 ray, leading tne way. 
 
 Edna was soon undressed and placed within the snowy 
 sheets of a heavily-carved bedstead, whose crimson canopy 
 shed a ruby light down on the laced and ruffled pillows 
 Mrs. Murray administered a dose of medicine given to her 
 by Dr. Rodney, and after closing the blinds to exclude the 
 light, she felt the girl's pulse, found that she had fallen into 
 a heavy sleep, and then, with a sigh, went down to take 
 her breakfast. It was several hours before Edna awoke, 
 and when she opened her eyes, and looked around the 
 elegantly furnished and beautiful room, she felt bewildered. 
 
46 ST. ELMO. 
 
 Mrs. Murray sat in a cushioned chair, near one of tne win 
 dows, with a book in her hand, and Edna had an oppor 
 tunity of studying her face. It was fair, proud, and hand- 
 some, but wore an expression of habitual anxiety ; and 
 gray hairs showed themselves under the costly lace that 
 bordered her morning head-dress, while lines of care marked 
 her brow and mouth. Children instinctively decipher the 
 hieroglyphics which time carves on human faces, and, in 
 reading the countenance of her hostess, Edna felt that she 
 was a haughty, ambitious woman, with a kind but not very 
 warm heart, who would be scrupulously attentive to the 
 wants of a sick child, but would probably never dream of 
 caressing or fondling such a charge. Chancing to glance 
 towards the bed as she turned a leaf, Mrs. Murray met the 
 curious gaze fastened upon her, and, rising, approached the 
 sufferer. 
 
 " How do you feel, Edna ? I believe that is your name." 
 
 " Thank you, my head is better, but I am very thirsty." 
 
 The lady of the house gave her some ice- water in a silver 
 goblet, and ordered a servant to bring up the refreshments 
 she had directed prepared. As she felt the girl's pulse, 
 Edna noticed how white and soft her hands were, and how 
 dazzlingly the jewels flashed on her fingers, and she longed 
 for the touch of those aristocratic hands on her hot brow 
 where the hair clustered so heavily. 
 
 " How old are you, Edna ?" 
 
 "Almost thirteen." 
 
 " Had you any baggage on the train ?" 
 
 " I had a small box of clothes." 
 
 " I will send a servant for it." She rang the bell as she 
 spoke. 
 
 " When do you think I shall be able to wa' k about ?" 
 
 " Probably not for many weeks. If you need or wish 
 any thing you must not hesitate to ask for it. A servant 
 will sit here, and you have only to tell her what you 
 want." 
 
ST. ELMO. 17 
 
 " You are very kind, ma'am, and I thank you v ery much — " 
 She paused, and her eyes filled with tears. 
 
 Mrs. Murray looked at her and said gravely : 
 
 " What is the matter, child ?" 
 
 " I am only sorry I was so ungrateful and wicked thU 
 morning." 
 
 " How so ?" 
 
 " Oh ! every thing that I love dies ; and when I lay there on 
 the grass, unable to move, among strangers who knew and 
 cared nothing about me, I was wicked, and would not try to 
 pray, and thought God wanted to make me suffer all my life ; 
 and I wished that I had been killed instead of that dear little 
 baby, who had a father and mother to kiss and to love it. 
 It was all wrong to feel so, but I was so wretched. And 
 then God raised up friends even among strangers, and 
 shows me I am not forsaken if I am desolate. I begin to 
 think Pie took every body away from me, that I might see 
 how He could take care of me without them. I know 'He 
 doeth all things well,' but I feel it now ; and I am so sorry 
 I could not trust Him without seeing it." 
 
 Edna wiped away her tears, and Mrs. Murray's voice 
 faltered slightly as she said : 
 
 "You are a good little girl, I have no doubt. Who 
 taught you to be so religious ?" 
 
 "^Grandpa." 
 
 " How long since you lost him ?" 
 
 " Four months." 
 
 " Can you read "?" 
 
 " Oh ! yes, ma'am." 
 
 " Well, I shall send you a Bible, and you must make your- 
 self as contented as possible. I shall take good care of 
 you." 
 
 As the hostess left the room a staid-looking, elderly negro 
 woman took a seat at the window and sewed silently, 
 now and then glancing toward the bed. Exhausted with 
 pain and fatigue, Edna slept again, and it was night when 
 
48 ST. ELMO. 
 
 she opened her eyes and found Dr. Rodney and Mrs Mui« 
 ray at her pillow. The kind surgeon talked pleasantly for 
 some time, and, after giving ample instructions, took his 
 leave, exhorting his patient to keep up her fortitude and 
 all would soon be well. So passed the first day of her so- 
 journ under the hospitable roof which appeared so fortu- 
 itously to shelter her ; and the child thanked God fervent- 
 ly for the kind hands into which she had fallen. Day after 
 day wore wearily away, and at the end of a fortnight, 
 though much prostrated by fever and suffering, she was 
 propped up in bed by pillows while Hagar, the servant, 
 combed and plaited the long, thick, matted hair. Mrs. 
 Murray came often to the room, but her visits were short, 
 and though invariably kind and considerate, Edna felt an 
 involuntary awe of her, which rendered her manner ex- 
 ceedingly constrained when they were together. Hagar 
 was almost as taciturn as her mistress, and as the girl asked 
 few questions, she remained in complete ignorance of the 
 household affairs, and had never seen any one but Mrs. 
 Murray, Hagar, and the doctor. She was well supplied 
 with books, which the former brought from the library, 
 and thus the invalid contrived to amuse herself during the 
 iong tedious summer days. One afternoon in June Edna 
 persuaded Hagar to lift her to a large cushioned chair close 
 to the open window which looked out on the lawn ; and 
 here, with a book on her lap, she sat gazing out at the soft 
 blue sky, the waving elm boughs, and the glittering plum 
 age of a beautiful Himalayan pheasant, which seemed in 
 ihat golden sunshine to have forgotten the rosy glow of his 
 native snows. Leaning her elbows on the window-sill, 
 Edna rested her face in her palms, and after a few minutes 
 a tide of tender memories rose and swept over her heart, 
 bringing a touching expression of patient sorrow to her sweet, 
 wan face, and giving a far-off wistful look to the beautiful 
 eyes where tears often gathered but very rarely fell. Hagar 
 had dressed her in a new white muslin wrapper, with fluted 
 
ST. ELMO. 49 
 
 ruffles at the wrists and throat ; and the fair young face, 
 with its delicate features, and glossy folds of soft hair, was 
 a pleasant picture, which the nurse loved to contemplate. 
 Standing with her work-hasket in her hand, she watched 
 the graceful little figure for two or three moments, and a 
 warm, loving light shone out over her black features ; then 
 nodding her head resolutely, she muttered : 
 
 " I will have my way this once ; she shall stay," and 
 passed out of the room, closing the door behind her. Edna 
 did not remark her departure, for memory was busy among 
 the ashes of Qther days, exhuming a thousand precious 
 reminiscences of mountain home, chestnut-groves, showers 
 of sparks fringing an anvil with fire, and an old man's un- 
 painted head-board in the deserted burying-ground. She 
 started nervously when, a half-hour later, Mrs. Murray laid 
 her hand gently on her shoulder and said : 
 
 " Child, of what are you thinking ?" 
 
 For an instant she could not command her voice, which 
 faltered ; but making a strong effort, she answered in a low 
 tone : 
 
 " Of all that I have lost, and what I am to do in future." 
 
 " Would you be willing to work all your life in a factory ?" 
 
 " No, ma'am ; only long enough to educate myself, so 
 that I could teach." 
 
 " You could not obtain a suitable education in that way ; 
 and besides, I do not think that the factory you spoke of 
 would be an agreeable place for you. I have made some 
 inquiries about it since you came here." 
 
 " I know it will not be pleasant, but then I am obliged to 
 work in some way, and I don't see what else I can do. I 
 am not able to pay for an education now, and I am deter- 
 mined to have one." 
 
 Mrs. Murray's eyes wandered out toward the velvety 
 lawn, and she mused for some minutes ; then laying her 
 hands on the orphan's head, she said : 
 
 " Child, will you trust your future and your education 
 
50 -87. ELMO. 
 
 to me ? I do not mean that I will teach you — oh ! no -• but 
 t will have you thoroughly educated, so that when you are 
 grown you can support yourself by teaching. I have no 
 daughter — I lost mine when she was a babe ; but I could not 
 have seen her enter a factory, and as you remind me of my 
 own child, I will not allow you to go there. I will take 
 care of and educate you — will see that you have every thing 
 you require, if you are willing to be directed and advised 
 by me. Understand me, I do not adopt you ; nor shall I 
 consider you exactly as one of my family ; but I shall prove 
 a good friend and protector till you are eighteen, and capa- 
 ble of providing for yourself. You will live in my house 
 and look upon it as your home, at least for the present. 
 What do you say to this plan ? Is it not much better and 
 more pleasant than your wild-goose chase after an educa- 
 tion through the dust and din of a factory ?" 
 
 " O Mrs. Murray ! You are very generous and good, 
 but I have no claim on you— no right to impose such an ex 
 pense and trouble upon you ! I am — ■. — " 
 
 "Hush, child ! you have that claim which poverty always 
 has on wealth. As for the expense, that is a mere trifle, and 
 I do not expect you to give me any trouble ; perhaps you 
 may even make yourself useful to me." 
 
 " Thank you ! oh ! thank you, ma'am ! I am very grateful ! 
 I can not tell you how much I thank you ; but I shall try 
 to prove it, if you will let me stay here — on one condition." 
 
 "What is that?" 
 
 " That when I am able to pay you, you will receive the 
 money that my education and clothes will cost you." 
 
 Mrs. Murray laughed, and stroked the silky black hair. 
 
 " Where did you get such proud notions ? Pay me, in- 
 deed ! You poor little beggar ! Ida ! ha ! ha ! Well, 
 yes, you may do as you please, when you are able ; but that 
 time is rather too distant to be considered now. Meanwhile, 
 quit grieving over the past, and think only of improving 
 yourself. I do not like doleful faces, and shall expect you 
 
ST. ELMO. 5| 
 
 to "be a cheerful, contented, and obediiiit gn.. Hjtgar la 
 making you an entire set of new clothes, and I hope to see 
 you always neat. I shall give you a smaller room than this — 
 the one across the hall; you will keep your books there, 
 and remain there during study hours. At other times you 
 can come to my room, or amuse yourself as you like ; and 
 when there is company here, remember, I shall always ex- 
 pect you to sit quietly, and listen to the conversation, as it 
 is very improving to young girls to be in really good so- 
 ciety. You will have a music teacher, and practice on the 
 upright piano in the library, instead of the large one in the 
 parlor. One thing more if you want any thing, come to 
 me, and ask for it, and 1 shall be very much displeased ii 
 you talk to the servants, or encourage them to talk to you. 
 Now every thing is understood, and I hope you will be 
 happy, and properly improve the advantages I shall give 
 you." 
 
 Edna drew one of the white hands down to her lips and 
 murmured : 
 
 " Thank you — thank you ! You shall never have cause to 
 regret your goodness ; and your wishes shall always guide 
 me." 
 
 " Well, well ; I shall remember .this promise, and trust I 
 may never find it necessary to remind you of it. I dare 
 say we shall get on very happily together. Don't thank 
 me any more, and hereafter we need not speak of the 
 matter." 
 
 Mrs. Murray stooped, and for the first time kissed the 
 child's white forehead ; and Edna longed to throw her arms 
 about the stately form, but the polished hautetir awed and 
 repelled her. 
 
 Before she could reply, and just as Mrs. Murray was 
 moving toward the door, it was thrown open, and a gen- 
 tleman strode into the room. At sight of Edna he stopped 
 suddenly, and chopping a bag of game on the floor, ex- 
 claimed harshlv : 
 
52 ST. ELMO. 
 
 " What the d — 1 does this mean ?" 
 
 " My son ! I am so glad you are at home again I waa 
 getting quite uneasy at your long absence. This is cne of 
 the victims of that terrible railroad disaster ; the neigh 
 borhood is fall of the sufferers. Come to my room. When 
 did you arrive ?" 
 
 She linked her arm in his, picked up the game-bag, and 
 led him to the adjoining room, the door of which she closed 
 and locked. 
 
 A painfal thrill shot along Edna's nerves, and an inde- 
 scribable sensation of dread, a presentiment of coming ill, 
 overshadowed her heart. This was the son of her friend, 
 and the first glimpse of him filled her with instantaneous re- 
 pugnance ; there was an innate and powerful repulsion which 
 she could not analyze. He was a tall, athletic man, not ex- 
 actly young, yet certainly not elderly; one of anomalous 
 appearance, prematurely old, and, though not one white 
 thread silvered his thick, waving, brown hair, the heavy 
 and habitual scowl on his high fall brow had plowed 
 deep farrows such as age claims for its monogram. His 
 features were bold but very regular ; the piercing, steel-gray 
 eyes were unusually large, and beautifully shaded with long, 
 heavy, black lashes, but repelled by their cynical glare ; 
 and the finely-formed mouth, which might have imparted a 
 wonderful charm to the countenance, wore a chronic, savage 
 sneer, as if it only opened to utter jeers and curses. Evi- 
 dently the face had once been singularly handsome, in the 
 dawn of his earthly career, when his mother's good-night 
 kiss rested like a blessing on his smooth, boyish forehead, 
 and the prayer learned in the nursery still crept across his 
 pure lips ; but now the fair chiseled lineaments were 
 blotted by dissipation, and blackened and distorted by the 
 baleful fires of a fierce, passionate nature, and a restless, 
 powerful, and unhallowed intellect. Symmetrical and 
 grand as that temple cf Juno, in shrouded Pompeii, whose 
 polished shafts gleamed centuries ago in the morn.ug sun- 
 
ST. SLMO. 53 
 
 tshine of a day of woe, whose untimely night has endured 
 for nineteen hundred years ; so, in the glorious flush of his 
 youth, this man had stood facing a noble and possibly a 
 sanctified future; but. the ungovernable flames of sin had re- 
 duced him, like that darkened and desecrated fane, to a 
 melancholy mass of ashy arches and blackened columns, 
 where ministering priests, all holy aspirations, slumbered 
 in the dust. His dress was costly but negligent, and the 
 red stain on his jacket told that his hunt had not been fruit- 
 less. He wore a straw hat, belted with broad black rib- 
 bon, and his spurred boots were damp and muddy. 
 
 What was there about this surly son of her hostess 
 which recalled to Edna's mind, her grandfather's words, 
 " He is a rude, wicked, blasphemous man" ? She had not 
 distinctly seen the face of the visitor at the shop ; but some- 
 thing in the impatient, querulous tone, in the hasty, haughty 
 step, and the proud lifting of the regal head, reminded her 
 painfully of him whose overbearing insolence had so un- 
 wontedly stirred the ire of Aaron Hunt's genial and gen- 
 erally equable nature. While she pondered this inexplica- 
 ble coincidence, voices startled her from the next room, 
 whence the sound floated through the window. 
 
 " If you were not my mother, I should say you were a 
 candidate for a strait-jacket and a lunatic asylum; but as 
 those amiable proclivities are considered hereditary, I do 
 not favor that comparison. ' Sorry for her,' indeed ! I'll 
 bet my right arm it will not be six weeks before she makes 
 you infinitely sorrier for your deluded self; and you will 
 treat me to a new version of i je me regrette ! ' With your 
 knowledge of this precious world and its holy crew, I con- 
 fess it seems farcical in the extreme that open-eyed you can 
 venture another experiment on human nature. Some fine 
 morning you will rub your eyes aiid find your acolyte non 
 est ; ditto, your silver forks, diamonds, and gold spoons." 
 
 Edna felt the indignant blood burning in her cheeks, and 
 as she could not walk without assistance, and shrank from 
 
54 ST. ELMO. 
 
 listening to a conversation which was not intended for hei 
 ears, she coughed several times to arrest the attention ol 
 the speakers, but apparently without effect, for the son's 
 voice again rose above the low tones of the mother. 
 
 " O carnival of shams ! She is ' pious,' you say ? Then, 
 I'll swear my watch is not safe in my pocket, and I shall 
 sleep with the key of my cameo cabinet tied around my 
 neck. A Paris police would not insure your valuables 01 
 mine. The fates ( forbid that your pen-feathered saint should 
 decamp with some of my costly travel-scrapings ! ' Pious,' 
 indeed ! ' Edna,' forsooth ! No doubt her origin and 
 morals are quite as apocryphal as her name. Don't talk to 
 me about ' her being providentially thrown into your 
 hands,' unless you desire to hear me say things which you 
 have frequently taken occasion to inform me ' deeply griev- 
 ed ' you. I daresay the little vagrant whines in what she 
 considers orthodox phraseology, that ' God tempers the 
 wind to the shorn lamb !' and, like some other pious people 
 whom I have heard canting, will saddle some Jewish pro- 
 phet or fisherman with the dictum, thinking that it sounds 
 like the Bible, whereas Sterne said it. Shorn lamb, for- 
 sooth ! We, or rather you, madame, ma mere, will be 
 shorn — thoroughly fleeced ! Pious! Ha! ha! ha!" 
 
 Here followed an earnest expostulation from Mrs. Murray, 
 only a few words of which were audible^ and once more the 
 deep, strong, bitter tones rejoined: 
 
 "'Interfere! Pardon me, I am only too happy to stand 
 aloof and watch the little wretch play out her game. Most 
 certainly it is your own affair, but you will permit me to 
 be amused, will you not ? And with your accustomed 
 suavity forgive me, if I chance inadvertently to whisper 
 above my breath, 'ie jeu ri'en vaut pas la chandelle'' f 
 What the deuce do you suppose I care about her 'faith'? 
 She may run through the whole catalogue from the mustard* 
 seed size up, as far as I am concerned, and you may make 
 
UT. ELMO. 55 
 
 yourself easy on the score of my ' contaminating ' the sanc- 
 tified vagrant!" 
 
 " St. Elmo ! my son ! promise me that you will not scoff 
 and sneer at her religion ; at least in her presence," pleaded 
 the mother. 
 
 A ringing, mirthless laugh was the only reply that reached 
 the girl, as she put her fingers in her ears and hid her face 
 on the window-sill. 
 
 It was no longer possible to doubt the identity of the 
 stranger ; the initials on the fly-leaf meant St. Elmo Murray ; 
 and she knew that in the son of her friend and protectress 
 she had found the owner of her Dante and the man who had 
 cursed her grandfather for his tardiness. If she had only 
 known this one hour earlier, she would have declined the 
 offer, which once accepted, she knew not how to reject, 
 without acquainting Mrs. Murray with the fact that she 
 had overheard the conversation ; and yet she could not 
 endure the prospect of living under the same roof with a 
 man whom she loathed and feared. The memory of the 
 blacksmith's aversion to this stranger intensified her own; 
 and as she pondered in shame and indignation the scornful 
 and opprobrious epithets which he had bestowed on herself, 
 she muttered through her set teeth : 
 
 " Yes, Grandy ! he is cruel and wicked ; and I never can 
 bear to look at or speak to him ! How dared he curse my 
 dear, dear, good grandpa ! How can I ever be respectful to 
 him, when he is not even respectful to his own mother ! Oh ! 
 I wish I had never come here ! I shall always hate him I" 
 At this juncture Hagar entered, and lifted her back to 
 her couch ; and, remarking the agitation of her manner, 
 the nurse said gravely, as she put her fingers on the girl's 
 pulse : 
 
 " What has flushed you so ? Your face is hot ; you have 
 tired yourself sitting up too long. Did a gentleman come 
 into this room a while ago ?" 
 
 " Yes, Mrs. Murray's son." 
 
56 ST. ELMO. 
 
 "Did Miss Ellen — that is, my mistress — .ell you that yen 
 were to live here, and get your education ?" 
 
 " Yes, she offered to take care of me for a few years." 
 
 " Well, I am glad it is fixed, so — you can stay ; for you 
 can be a great comfort to Miss Ellen, if you try to please 
 her." 
 
 She paused, and busied herself about the room, and re- 
 membering Mrs. Murray's injunction that she should dis- 
 courage conversation on the part of the servants, Edna 
 turned her face to the wall and shut her eyes. But for 
 once Hagar's habitual silence and non-committalism were 
 laid aside ; and, stooping over the couch, she said hurriedly. 
 
 " Listen to me, child, for I like your patient ways, and 
 want to give you a friendly warning ; you are a stranger in 
 this house, and might stumble into trouble. Whatever else 
 you do, be sure not to cross Mass Elmo's path ! Keep out 
 of his way, and he will keep out of yours ; for he is shy 
 enough of strangers, and would walk a mile to keep from 
 meeting any body ; but if he finds you in his way, he will 
 walk roughshod right over you — trample you. Nothing 
 ever stops him one minute when he makes up his mind. Pie 
 does not even wait to listen to his mother, and she is about 
 the only person who dares to talk to bim. He hates every 
 body and every thing ; but he doesn't tread on folks' toes 
 unless they are where they don't belong. He is like a rattle- 
 snake that crawls in his own track, and bites every thing that 
 meddles or crosses his trail. Above every thing, child, for 
 the love of peace and heaven, don't argue with him ! If he 
 says black is white, don't contradict him ; and if he swears 
 water runs up-stream, let him swear, and don't know it runs 
 down. Keep out of his sight, and you will do well enough • 
 but once make him mad. and you had better fight Satan 
 hand to hand with red-hot pitchforks ! Every body is afraid 
 of him, and gives way to him, and you must do like the 
 balance that have to deal with him. I nursed him ; but I 
 would rather put my head in a wolf's jaws than stir him 
 
ST. ELMO. 57 
 
 ap ; and God knows I wish he had died when he was a Daby 
 instead of living to grow up the sinful, swearing, raging 
 devil he is ! 'Now mind what I say. I am not given to 
 talking, but this time it is for your good. Mind what I tell 
 you, child ; and if you want to have peace, keep out of his 
 way." 
 
 She left the room abruptly, and the orphan lay in the 
 gathering gloom of twilight, perplexed, distressed, and 
 wondering how she could avoid all the angularities of this 
 amiable character, under whose roof fate seemed to have 
 deposited her. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 T length, by the aid Df crutches, Edna was 
 able to leave the room where she had been so 
 long confined, and explore the house in which 
 every day discovered some new charm. The 
 parlors and sitting-room opened on a long, arched ve- 
 randah, which extended around two sides of the building, 
 and was paved with variegated tiles ; while the stained 
 glass doors of the dining-room, with its lofty frescoed ceil- 
 ing and deep bow-windows, led by two white niarble steps 
 out on the terrace, whence two more steps showed the be- 
 ginning of a serpentine gravel walk winding down to an 
 octagonal hot-house, surmounted by a richly carved pagoda- 
 roof. Two sentinel statues — a Bacchus and Bacchante — 
 placed on the terrace, guarded the entrance to the dining- 
 room ; and in front of the house, where a sculptured Triton 
 threw jets of water into a gleaming circular basin, a pair 
 of crouching monsters glared from the steps. When Edn? 
 first found herself before these grim doorkeepers, she 
 started back in unfeigned terror, and could scarcely repress 
 a cry of alarm, for + he howling rage and despair of the 
 distorted hideous heads seemed fearfully real, and years 
 elapsed before she comprehended their significance, or the 
 sombre mood which impelled their creation. They were 
 imitations of that monumental lion's head, raised on the 
 battle-field of Chseroneia, to commemorate the Boeotians 
 slain. In the rear of and adjoining the library, a narrow, 
 vaulted passage with high Gothic windows of stained 
 
ST. ELMO. 59 
 
 glass, opened into a "beautifully proportioned rotunda; and 
 beyond this circular apartment with its ruby-tinted sky- 
 Mght and Moresque frescoes, extended two other rooms, of 
 whose shape or contents Edna knew nothing, save the tall 
 arched windows that looked doAvn on the terrace. The 
 door of the rotunda was generally closed, but accidentally 
 it stood open one morning, and she caught a glimpse of the 
 circular form and the springing dome. Evidently this por- 
 tion of the mansion had been recently built, while the re- 
 mainder of the house had been constructed many years 
 earlier ; but all desire to explore it was extinguished when 
 Mrs. Murray remarked one day : 
 
 " That passage leads to my son's apartments, and he dis- 
 likes noise or intrusion." 
 
 Thenceforth Edna avoided it as if the plagues of Pharaoh 
 were pent therein. To her dazzled eyes this luxurious home 
 was a fairy palace, an enchanted region, and, with eager 
 curiosity and boundless admiration, she gazed upon beau- 
 tiful articles whose use she could not even conjecture. The 
 furniture throughout the mansion was elegant and costly ; 
 pictures, statues, bronzes, marble, silver, rosewood, ebony, 
 mosaics, satin, velvet — naught that the most fastidious and 
 cultivated taste or dilettanteism could suggest, or lavish 
 expenditure supply, was wanting ; while the elaborate and 
 beautiful arrangement of the extensive grounds showed with 
 how prodigal a hand the owner squandered a princely 
 fortune. The flower-garden and lawn comprised fifteen 
 acres, and the subdivisions were formed entirely by hedges, 
 Bave that portion of the park, surrounded by a tall iron 
 railing, where congregated a motley menagerie of deer, 
 bison, a Lapland reindeer, a Peruvian llama, some Cash- 
 mere goats, a chamois, wounded and caught on the Jung- 
 frau, and a large white cow from Ava. This part pf the 
 inclosure was thickly studded with large oaks, groups of 
 beech' and elm, and a few enormous cedars which would 
 not have shamed their sacred prototypes sighing in Syrian 
 
60 ST. ELMO. 
 
 breezes along the rocky gorges of Lebanon. The branches 
 were low and spreading, and even at mid-day the sunshine 
 barely freckled the cool, mossy knolls where the animals 
 sought refuge from the summer heat of the open and 
 smoothly-shaven lawn. Here and there, on the soft, green 
 sward, was presented that vegetable antithesis, a circlet 
 of martinet poplars standing vis-a-vis to a clump of willows 
 whose long hah' threw quivering, fringy shadows when the 
 slanting rays of dying sunlight burnished the white and 
 purple petals nestling among the clover tufts. Rustic 
 seats of bark, cane, and metal were scattered through the 
 grounds, and where the well-trimmed numerous hedges 
 divided \he parterre, china, marble, and iron vases of varied 
 mould held rare creepers and lovely exotics ; and rich 
 masses of roses swung their fragrant chalices of crimson and 
 gold, rivaling the glory of Psestum and of Bendemeer. The 
 elevation upon which the house was placed commanded an 
 extensive view of the surrounding country. Far away to 
 the north-east purplish gray waves along the sky showed 
 the range of lofty hills, whose rocky battlements were not 
 yet scarred and branded by the red hand of fratricidal war ; 
 and in an easterly direction, scarcely two miles distant, 
 glittering spires told where the village clung to the rail- 
 road, and to a deep rushing creek, whose sinuous course 
 was distinctly marked by the dense growth that clothed 
 its steep banks. Kcrw and then luxuriant fields of corn 
 covered the level lands with an emerald mantle, while 
 sheep and cattle roamed through the adjacent champaign ; 
 and in the calm, cool morning air, a black smoke-serpent 
 crawled above the tree-tops, mapping out the track over 
 which the long train of cars darted and thundered. Mr. 
 Paul Murray, the first proprietor of the estate, and father of 
 the present owner, had early in life spent much time in 
 France, where, espousing the royalist cause, his sympathies 
 were fully enlisted by the desperate daring of Charette, 
 Stofflet, and Cathelineau, On his return to his native land 
 
ST. ELMO. 61 
 
 fns admiration of the heroism of those who dwelt upon the 
 Loire, found expression in one of their sobriquets, "Le 
 Bocage," which he gave to his country residence ; and cer- 
 tainly the venerable groves that surrounded it justified the 
 application. While his own fortune was handsome and 
 abundant, he married the orphan of a rich banker, who sur- 
 vived her father only a short time, and died leaving Mr. 
 Murray childless. After a few years, when the frosts of 
 age fell upon his head, he married a handsome and very 
 wealthy widow ; but, unfortunately, having lost their first 
 child, a daughter, he lived only long enough to hear the 
 infantile prattle of his son, St. Elmo, to whom he be- 
 queathed an immense fortune, which many succeeding 
 years of reckless expenditure had failed to materially im- 
 pair. Such was " Le Bocage," naturally a beautiful situa- 
 tion, improved and embellished with every thing which 
 refined taste and world-wide travel could suggest to the 
 fastidious owner. But notwithstanding the countless charms 
 of the home so benevolently offered to her, the blacksmith's 
 granddaughter was conscious of a great need, scarcely to 
 be explained, yet fully felt — the dreary lack of that which 
 she had yet to learn could not be purchased by the trea- 
 sures of Oude — the priceless peace and genial glow which 
 only the contented, happy hearts of its inmates can diffuse 
 over even a palatial homestead. She also realized, without 
 analyzing the fact, that the majestic repose and boundless 
 spontaneity of nature yielded a sense of companionship al- 
 most of tender, dumb sympathy, which all the polished ar- 
 tificialities and recherche arrangements of man utterly failed 
 to furnish. While dazzled by the glitter and splendor of " Le 
 Bocage," she shivered in its silent dreariness, its cold, aris- 
 tocratic formalism, and she yearned for the soft, musical 
 babble of the spring-branch, where, standing ankle-deep in 
 water under the friendly shadow of Lookout, she had spent 
 long, blissful July days in striving to build a wall of rounded 
 pebbles down which the crystal ripples would fall, a minia- 
 
62 ST. ELMO. 
 
 ture Talulah or Tuccoa. The chrism of nature ho,d anointed 
 her early life and consecrated her heart, but fate brought 
 her to the vestibule of the temple of Mammon, and its defil- 
 ing incense floated about her. How long would the con- 
 secration last ? As she slowly limped about the house and 
 grounds, acquainting herself with the details, she was im- 
 pressed with the belief that happiness had once held her 
 court here, had been dethroned, exiled, and now waited be- 
 yond the confines of the park, anxious "but unable to renew 
 her reign and expel usurping gloom. For some weeks after 
 her arrival she took her meals in her own room, and having 
 learned to recognize the hasty, heavy tread of the dreaded 
 master of the house, she invariably fled from the sound of 
 his steps as she would have shunned an ogre ; consequently 
 her knowledge of him was limited to the brief inspection 
 and uncomplimentary conversation which introduced him 
 to her acquaintance on the day of his return. Her habitual 
 avoidance and desire of continued concealment was, how- 
 ever, summarily thwarted when Mrs. Murray came into her 
 room late one night, and asked: 
 
 " Did not I see you walking this afternoon without your 
 crutches ?" 
 
 " Yes, ma'am, I was trying to see if I could not do with, 
 out them entirely." 
 
 " Did the experiment cause you any pain ?" 
 
 " No pain exactly, but I find my ankle still weak." 
 
 "Be careful not to overstrain it; by degrees it will 
 strengthen, if you use it moderately. By the by, you are 
 now well enough to come to the table ; and from breakfast 
 to-morrow you will take your meals with us in the dining- 
 room." 
 
 A shiver of apprehension seized Edna, and in a fright- 
 3ned tone she ejaculated : 
 
 " Ma'am !" 
 
 " I say, in future you will eat at the table instead of here 
 in this room." 
 
ST. ELMO. 63 
 
 " If you please, Mrs. Murray, I wo.iid ratlier stay nere.' 
 
 "Pray what possible objection can you have to the 
 dining-room ?" 
 
 Edna averted her head, but wrung her fingers nervously. 
 
 Mrs. Murray frowned, and continued gravely : 
 
 " Don't be silly, Edna. It is proper that you should go 
 to the table, and learn to eat with a fork instead of a knife. 
 You need not be ashamed to meet people ; there is nothing 
 clownish about you, unless you affect it. Good night ; I 
 shall see you at breakfast ; the bell rings at eight o'clock." 
 
 There was no escape, and she awoke next morning op- 
 pressed with the thought of the ordeal that awaited her. 
 She dressed herself even more carefully than usual, despite 
 the trembling of her hands ; and when the ringing of the 
 little silver bell summoned her to the dining-room, her heart 
 seemed to stand still. But though exceedingly sensitive 
 and shy, Edna was brave, and even self-possessed, and she 
 promptly advanced to meet the trial. 
 
 Entering the room, she saw that her benefactress had not 
 yet come in, but was approaching the house with a basket 
 of flowers in her hand ; and one swift glance around dis- 
 covered Mr. Murray standing at the window. Unobserved 
 she scanned the tall, powerful figure clad in a suit of white 
 linen, and saw that he wore no beard save the heavy but 
 closely-trimmed moustache, which now, in some degree, 
 concealed the harshness about the handsome mouth. Only 
 his profile was turned toward her, and she noticed that, 
 while his forehead was singularly white, his cheeks and 
 chin were thoroughly bronzed from exposure. 
 
 As Mrs. Murray came in, she nodded to her young pro- 
 tegee, and approached the table, saying : 
 
 " Good morning ! It seems I am the laggard to-day, but 
 Nicholas had mislaid the flower-shears, and detained me. 
 Hereafter I shall turn over this work of dressing vases to 
 you, child. My son, this is your birthday, and here is youf 
 button-hole souvenir." 
 
64 ST. ELMO. 
 
 She fastened a few spi'igs of white jasmine in his finerj 
 coat, and, as he thanked her briefly and turned to the 
 table, she said, with marked emphasis : 
 
 " St. Elmo, let me introduce you to Edna Earl." 
 
 He looked around, and fixed his keen eyes on the orphan, 
 whose cheeks crimsoned as she looked down and said quite 
 distinctly : 
 
 " Good morning, Mr. Murray." 
 
 " Good morning, Miss Earl." 
 
 " No, I protest ! ' Miss Earl,' indeed ! Call the child 
 Edna." 
 
 " As you please, mother, provided you do not let the cof- 
 fee and chocolate get cold while you decide the momentous 
 question." 
 
 Neither spoke again for some time, and in the embarrass- 
 ing silence Edna kept her eyes on the china, wondering if 
 all their breakfasts would be like this. At last Mr. Murray 
 pushed away his large coffee-cup, and said abruptly: 
 
 " After all, it is only one year to-day since I came back 
 to America, though it seems much longer. It will soon be 
 time to prepare for my trip to the South Sea Islands. The 
 stagnation here is intolerable." 
 
 An expression of painful surprise flitted across the 
 mother's countenance, but she answered quickly : 
 
 " It has been an exceedingly short, happy year to me. 
 You are such a confirmed absentee that, when you are at 
 home, time slips by unnoticed." 
 
 " But few and far between as my visits are, they certainly 
 never approach the angelic. ' Welcome the coming, speed 
 the parting guest,' must frequently recur to you." 
 
 Before his mother could reply he rose, ordered his horse, 
 and as he drew on his gloves, and left the room, looked over 
 his shoulder, saying indifferently, " That box of pictures 
 from Munich is at the depot ; I directed Henry to go over 
 after it this morning. I will open it when I come home." 
 
 A moment after he passed the window on hoi'seback, 
 
ST. ELMO. G5 
 
 and with a heavy sigh Mrs. Murray dnjpped hei Head or 
 her hand, compressing her lips, and tojing abstractedly 
 with the sugar-tongs. 
 
 Edna watched the grave, troubled countenance for some 
 seconds, and then putting her hand on the iiower-basket, 
 she asked softly : 
 
 " Shall I dress the flower-pots ?" 
 
 " Yes, child, in four rooms ; this, the parlors, and the 
 library. Always cut the flowers very early, while the dew 
 is on them." 
 
 Her eyes went back to the sugar-tongs, and Edna joyfully 
 escaped from a room whose restraints and associations were 
 irksome. 
 
 Impressed by Hagar's vehement adjuration to keep out 
 of Mr. Murray's path, she avoided those portions of the 
 house to which he seemed most partial, and thus, although 
 they continued to meet at meals, no words passed between 
 them, after that brief salutation on the morning of presen- 
 tation. Very often she was painfully conscious that his 
 searching eyes scrutinized her ; but though the blood 
 mounted instantly to her cheeks at such times, she never 
 looked up — dreading his gaze as she would that of a bas- 
 ilisk. One sultry afternoon she went into the park, and 
 threw herself down on the long grass, under a clump of 
 cedars, near which the deer and bison were quietly brows- 
 ing, while the large white merinoes huddled in the shade 
 and blinked at the sun. Opening a pictorial history of 
 England, which she had selected from the library, she 
 spread it on the grass, and leaning her face in her palms, 
 rested her elbows on the ground, and began to read. 
 Now and then she paused as she turned a leaf, to look 
 around at the beautiful animals, each one of which might 
 have served as a model for Landseer or Rosa Bonheur, 
 Gradually the languor of the atmosphere stole into her busy 
 brain ; . as the sun crept down the sky, her eyelids sunk with 
 it, and very soon she was fast asleep, with her head on the 
 
66 ST. ELMO. 
 
 book, and her cheeks flushed almost to a vermilkn hue, 
 From that brief summer dream she Avas aroused by some 
 sudden noise, and starting up, saw the sheep bounding far 
 away, while a large, gaunt, wolfish, gray dog snuffed at 
 her hands and face. Once before she had seen him chained 
 near the stables, and Hagar told her he was " very danger- 
 ous," and was never loosed except at night ; consequently, 
 the expression of his fierce, red eyes, as he stood over her, 
 was well calculated to alarm her ; but at that instant Mr. 
 Murray's voice thundered : 
 
 "Keep still ! don't move ! or you will be torn to pieces !" 
 Then followed some rapid interjections and vehement 
 words in the same unintelligible dialect which had so 
 puzzled her once before, when her grandfather could not 
 control the horse he was attempting to shoe. The dog was 
 sullen and unmanageable, keeping his black muzzle close to 
 her face, and she grew pale with terror as she noticed that 
 his shaggy breast and snarling jaws were dripping with 
 blood. 
 
 Leaping from his horse, Mr. Murray strode up, and with 
 a quick movement seized the heavy brass collar of the sav- 
 age creature, hurled him back on his haunches, and held 
 him thus, giving vent the while to a volley of oaths. 
 
 Pointing to a large, half-decayed elm branch, lying at a 
 little distance, he tightened his grasp on the collar, and said 
 to the still trembling girl : 
 
 " Bring me that stick, yonder." 
 
 Edna complied, and there ensued a scene of cursing, 
 thrashing, and howling, that absolutely sickened her. The 
 dog writhed, leaped, whined, and snarled ; but the iron hold 
 was not relaxed, and the face of the master rivaled in rage 
 that of the brute, which seemed as ferocious as the hounds 
 of Gian Maria Visconti, fed with human flesh, by Squarcia 
 Giramo Distressed by the severity and duration of the 
 punishment, and without pausing to reflect, or to remember 
 Hagar's warning, Edna interposed : 
 
S2\ ELMO. 67 
 
 " Oh ! please don't whip him any more ! It is crae, to 
 beat him so !" 
 
 Probably he did not hear her, and the blows fell thickes 
 than before. She drew near, and, as the merciless arm was 
 raised to strike, she seized it with both hands, and swung* 
 on with her whole weight, repeating her words. If one of 
 his meek, frightened sheep had sprung at his throat to 
 throttle him, Mr. Murray would not have been more astound- 
 ed. He shook her off, threw her from him, but she carried 
 the stick in her grasp. 
 
 " D — n you ! how dare you interfere ! "What is it to 
 you if I cut his throat, which I mean to do !" 
 
 " That will be cruel and sinful, for he does not know it is 
 wrong ; and besides, he did not bite me." 
 
 She spoke resolutely, and for the first time ventured to 
 look straight into his flashing eyes. 
 
 u Did not bite you ! Did not he worry down and man- 
 gle one of my finest Southdowns ? It would serve you 
 right for your impertinent meddling, if I let him tear you 
 limb from limb !" 
 
 " He knows no better," she answered firmly. 
 
 " Then, by G — d, I will teach him ! Hand me that 
 stick !" 
 
 " Oh ! please, Mr. Murray ! You have nearly put out one 
 of his eyes already !" 
 
 " Give me the stick, I tell you, or I " 
 
 He did not finish the threat, but held out his hand with a 
 peremptory gesture. 
 
 Edna gave one swift glance around, saw that there were 
 no other branches within reach, saw too that the dog's face 
 was swelling and bleeding from its bruises, and, bending 
 the stick across her knee, she snapped it into three pieces, 
 which she threw as far as her strength would permit. 
 There was a brief pause, broken only by the piteous howl- 
 ing of the suffering creature, and, as she began to realize 
 what she had done, Edna's face reddened, and she put her 
 
68 ST. ELMO. 
 
 hands over her eyes to shut out the vision of the enraged 
 man, who was absolutely dumb with indignant astonish- 
 ment. Presently a sneering laugh caused her to look 
 through her fingers, and she saw " Ali," the dog, now re- 
 leased, fawning and whining at his master's feet. 
 
 " Aha ! The way of all natures, human as well as brute. 
 Pet and fondle and pamper them, they turn under your 
 caressing hand and bite you ; but bruise and trample them, 
 and instantly they are on their knees licking the feet that 
 kicked them. Begone ! you bloodthirsty devil ! I'll settle 
 the account at the kennel. Buffon is a fool, and Pennant 
 was right after all ; the blood of the jackal pricks up your 
 ears." 
 
 He spurned the crouching culprit, and as it slunk away 
 in the direction of the house, Edna found herself alone, face 
 to face with the object of her aversion, and she almost 
 wished that the earth would open and swallow her. Mr. 
 Murray came close to her, held her hands down with one 
 of his, and placing the other under her chin, forced her to 
 look at him. 
 
 " How dare you defy and disobey me ?" 
 
 " I did not defy you, sir, but I could not help you to do 
 what was wrong and cruel." 
 
 " I am the judge of my actions, and neither ask your help 
 nor intend to permit your interference with what does not 
 concern you." 
 
 " God is the judge of mine, sir, and if I had obeyed you 
 I should have been guilty of all you wished to do with that 
 stick. I don't want to interfere, sir. I try to keep out of 
 your way, and I am very sorry I happened to come here 
 this evening. I did not dream of meeting you ; I thought 
 you had gone to town." 
 
 He read all her aversion in her eyes, which strove to 
 avoid his, and smiling grimly, he continued : " You evi- 
 dently think that I am the very devil himself, walking the 
 earth like a roaring lion. Mind your own affairs hereafter, 
 
ST. ELMO. 69 
 
 and when I give you a positive order ob^y it, for I am 
 master here, and my word is law. Meddling or disci edi- 
 ence I neither tolerate nor forgive. Do you understand 
 me ?" 
 
 " I shall not meddle, sir." 
 
 " That means that you will not obey me unless you think 
 proper ?" 
 
 She was silent, and her beautiful soft eyes filled with tears. 
 
 "Answer me !" 
 
 " I have nothing to say that you would like to hear." 
 
 "What? Out with it!" 
 
 " You would have a right to think me impertinent if I 
 said any more." 
 
 " No, I swear I will not devour you, say what you may." 
 
 She shook her head, and the motion brought two teara 
 down on her cheeks. 
 
 " Oh ! you are one of the stubborn sweet . saints, whose 
 lips even Torquemada's red-hot steel fingers could not 
 open. Child, do you hate or dread me most ? Answer 
 that question." 
 
 He took his own handkerchief and wiped away the tears. 
 
 " I am sorry for you, sir," she said in a low voice. 
 
 He threw his head back and laughed derisively. 
 
 ' • Sorry for me ? For me ? Me ? The owner of as 
 many thousands as there are hairs on your head ! Keep 
 your pity for your poverty-stricken vagrant self ! Why 
 the deuce are you sorry for me ?" 
 
 She withdrew her hands, which he seemed to hold un- 
 consciously, and ansAvered : 
 
 " Because, with all your money, you never will be happy." 
 
 " And what the d — 1 do I care for happiness ? I am 
 not such a fool as to expect it ; and yet after all, ' Out of 
 the mouths of babes and sucklings.' Pshaw ! I am a fool 
 nevei'theless to waste words on you. Stop ! What do 
 you think of my park, and the animals ? I notice you often 
 come here." 
 
70 ST. ELMO. 
 
 " The first time I saw it, I thought of Noah and the ark, 
 with two of every living thing ; but an hour ago it seemed 
 to me more like the garden of Eden, where the animals all 
 lay down together in peace, before sin came into it." 
 
 " And Ali and I entered, like Satan, and completed the 
 vision ? Thank you, considering the fact that you are on 
 my premises, and know something of my angelic, sanctified 
 temper, I must say you indulge in bold flights of imagery." 
 
 " I did not say that, sir." 
 
 " You thought it nevertheless. Don't be hypocritical ! 
 Is not that what you thought of?" 
 
 She made no reply, and anxious to terminate an inter- 
 view painfully embarrassing to her, stepped forward to pick 
 up the history which lay on the grass. 
 
 " What book is that ?" 
 
 She handed it to him, and the leaves happened to open at 
 a picture representing the murder of Becket. A scowl 
 blackened his face as he glanced at it, and turned away 
 muttering : 
 
 " Malice prepense ! or the devil ! " 
 
 At a little distance, leisurely cropping the long grass, 
 stood his favorite horse, whose arched forehead and pe- 
 culiar mouse-color proclaimed his unmistakable descent 
 from the swift hordes that scour the Kirghise steppes, and 
 sanctioned the whim which induced his master to call him 
 " Tamerlane." As Mr. Murray approached his horse, Edna 
 walked away toward the house, fearing that he might 
 overtake her ; but no sound of hoofs reached her ears, and 
 looking back as she crossed the avenue and entered the 
 flower-garden, she saw horse and rider standing where she 
 left them, and wondered why Mr. Murray was so still, with 
 one arm on the neck of his Tartar pet, and his own head 
 bent down on his hand. 
 
 In reflecting upon what had occurred, she felt her repug- 
 nance increase, and began to think that they could not live 
 in the same house without continual conflicts, which would 
 
ST. ELMO. 71 
 
 force her to abandon the numerous advantages now within her 
 grasp. The only ray of hope that darted through her mind 
 when she recalled his allusion to a contemplated visit to 
 the South Sea Islands, and the possibility of his long absence. 
 Insensibly her dislike of the owner extended to every thing 
 he handled, and much as she had enjoyed the perusal of 
 Dante, she determined to lose no time in restoring the lost 
 volume, which she felt well assured his keen eyes would 
 recognize the first time she inadvertently left it in the 
 library or the greenhouse. The doubt of her honesty, 
 which he had expressed to his mother, rankled in the or- 
 phan's memory, and for some days she had been nerving 
 herself to anticipate a discovery of the book by voluntarily 
 restoring it. The rencontre in the park by no means di- 
 minished her dread of addressing him on this subject ; but 
 she resolved that the rendition of Caesar's things to Csesar 
 should take place that evening before she slept. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 HE narrow, vaulted passage leading to Mr. Mur- 
 ray's suit of rooms was dim and gloomy when 
 Edna approached the partially opened door of 
 the rotunda, whence issued a stream of light. 
 Timidly she crossed the threshold and stood within on the 
 checkered floor, whose polished tiles glistened under the 
 glare of gas from bronze brackets representing Telamones, 
 that stood at regular intervals around the apartment. The 
 walls were painted in Saracenic style, and here and there 
 hung specimens of Oriental armor — Turcoman cimeters 
 Damascus swords, Bedouin lances, and a crimson silk flag, 
 with heavy gold fringe, surmounted by a crescent. The 
 cornice of the lofty arched ceiling was elaborately ara- 
 besque, and as Edna looked up she saw through the glass 
 roof the flickering of stars in the summer sky. In the 
 centre of the room, immediately under the dome, stretched 
 a billiard-table, and near it was a circular one of black 
 marble, inlaid with red onyx and lapis lazuli, which formed 
 a miniature zodiac similar to that at Denderah, while in the 
 middle of this table sat a small Murano hour-glass, filled 
 with sand from the dreary valley of El Ghor. A huge 
 plaster Trimurti stood close to the wall, on a triang*ular pe- 
 destal of black rock, and the Siva-fiice and the writhing 
 sobra confronted all who entered. Just opposite grinned a 
 red granite slab with a quaint basso-relievo taken from the 
 ruins of Elora. Near the door were two silken divans, and 
 a richly carved urn, three feet high, which had once orna- 
 
ST. ELMO. 73 
 
 merited the facade of a tomb in the royal days of Petra, ere 
 the curse fell on Edorn, now stood an in memoriam of the 
 original Necropolis. For what purpose this room was de- 
 signed or used Edna could not imagine, and after a hasty 
 survey of its singular furniture, she crossed the rotundo, 
 and knocked at the door that stood slightly ajar. All was 
 silent ; but the smell of a cigar told her that the owner was 
 within, and she knocked once more. 
 
 " Come in." 
 
 " I don't wish to come in ; I only want to hand you some- 
 thing." 
 
 " Oh ! the deuce you don't ! But I never meet people even 
 half-way, so come in you must, if you have any thing to say 
 to me. I have neither blue blazes nor pitchforks about me, 
 and you will be safe inside. I give you my word there are 
 no small devils shut up here, to fly away with whomsoever 
 peeps in ! Either enter, I say, or be off." 
 
 The temptation was powerful to accept the alternative; 
 but as he had evidently recognized her voice, she pushed 
 open the door and reluctantly entered. It was a long room, 
 and at the end were two beautiful fluted white marble 
 pillars, supporting a handsome arch, where hung heavy 
 curtains of crimson Persian silk, that were now partially 
 looped back, showing the furniture of the sleeping apart- 
 ment beyond the richly carved arch. For a moment the 
 bright light dazzled the orphan, and she shaded her eyes ; 
 but the next instant Mr. Murray rose from a sofa near the 
 window, and advanced a step or two, taking the cigar from 
 his lips. 
 
 " Gome to the window and take a seat." 
 
 He pointed to the sofa ; but she shook her head, and said 
 quickly : 
 
 "I have something which belongs to you, Mr. Murray, 
 which I think you must value very much, and therefore I 
 wanted to see it safe in your own hands." 
 
 Without raising her eyes she held the book toward him. 
 
74 $T. ELMu. 
 
 " What is it ?" 
 
 He took it mechanically, and with his gaze fixed on the 
 girl's face ; hut as she made no reply, he glanced down at 
 it, and his stern, swarthy face lighted up joyfully. 
 
 " Is it possible ? my Dante ! my lost Dante ! The copy 
 that has travelled round the world in my pocket, and that I 
 lost a year ago, somewhere in the mountains of Tennessee ! 
 Girl, where did you get it ?" 
 
 " I found it where you left it — on the grass near a black- 
 smith's shop." 
 
 " A blacksmith's shop ! where ?" 
 
 "Near Chattanooga. Don't you remember the sign, 
 under the horse-shoe, over the door, ' Aaron Hunt ' ? " 
 
 " No ; but who was Aaron Hunt ?" 
 
 For nearly a minute Edna struggled for composure, and 
 looking suddenly up, said falteringly : 
 
 " He was my grandfather — the only person in the world 
 I had to care for, or to love me — and — sir -" 
 
 " Well, go on." 
 
 " You cursed him because your horse fretted, and he could 
 not shoe him hi five minutes." 
 
 " Humph ! " 
 
 There was an awkward silence ; St. Elmo Murray bit his 
 lip and scowled, and, recovering her self-control, the orphan 
 added : 
 
 " You put your shawl and book on the ground, and when 
 you started you forgot them. I called you back and gave 
 you your shawl ; but I did not see the book for some time 
 after you rode out of sight." 
 
 "Yes, yes, I remember now about the shawl and the 
 shop. Strange I did not recognize you before. Eut how 
 did you learn that the book was mine ?" 
 
 " I did not know it was yours until I came here by acci- 
 dent, and heard Mrs. Murray call your name ; then I knew 
 that the iuitials written in the book spelt your name. And 
 besides, I remembered your figure and your v©ice." 
 
ST. 3LM0. 75 
 
 Again thvjre was a pause, and her mission enckd Edna 
 turned to go. 
 
 " Stop ! Why did you not give it to me when you first 
 jame ?" 
 
 She made no reply, and putting his hand on her shoulder 
 to detain her, he said more gently than she had ever heaid 
 him speak to any one : 
 
 " Was it because you loved my book and disliked to part 
 with it, or was it because you feared to come and speak to 
 a man whom you hate ? Be truthful." 
 
 Still she was silent, and raising her face with his palm, as 
 he had done in the park, he continued in the same low, 
 sweet voice, which she could scarcely believe belonged to 
 him : 
 
 " I am waiting for your answer, and I intend to have it." 
 
 Her large, sad eyes were brimming with precious memo- 
 ries, as she lifted them steadily to meet his, and answered : 
 
 " My grandfather was noble and good, and he was all I 
 had in this world." 
 
 "And you can not forgive a man who happened to be 
 rude to him ?" 
 
 "If you please, Mr. Murray, I would rather go now. I 
 have given you your book, and that is all I came for." 
 
 " Which means that you are afraid of me, and want to 
 get out of my sight ?" 
 
 She did not deny it, but her face flushed painfully. 
 
 "Edna Earl, you are at least honest and truthful, and 
 those are r$re traits at the present day. I thank you for 
 preserving and returning my Dante. Did you read any 
 of it ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir, all of it. Good-night, sir." 
 
 " Wait a moment. When did Aaron Hunt die ?" 
 
 " Two months after you saw him." 
 
 " You have no relatives ? No cousins, uncles, aur ts ?" 
 
 " None that I ever heard of. I must go, sir." 
 
 " Good night, child. For the present, when you go out 
 
76 BT. ELMO. 
 
 in the grounds, be sure that wolf, Ali, is chaii ed up, or yon 
 may be sorry that I did not cut his throat, as I am still in 
 clined to do." 
 
 She closed the door, ran lightly across the rotundo, and 
 regaining her own room, felt inexpressibly relieved that th<3 
 ordeal was over — that in future there remained no necessity 
 for her to address one whose very tones made her shudder 
 and the touch of whose hand filled her with vague dread 
 and loathing. 
 
 When the echo of her retreating steps died away, St. 
 Elmo threw his cigar out of the window, and walked up 
 and down the quaint and elegant rooms, whose costly 
 bizarrerie would more appropriately have adorned a villa 
 of Parthenope or Lucanian Sybaris, than a country-house in 
 soi-disant " republican " America. The floor, covered in 
 winter with velvet carpet, was of white and black marble 
 now bare and polished as a mirror, reflecting the figure of 
 the owner as he crossed it. Oval ormolu tables, buhl chairs, 
 and oaken and marquetrie cabinets, loaded with cameos, 
 intaglios, Abraxoids, whose " erudition " would have filled 
 Mnesarchus with envy, and challenged the admiration of 
 the Samian lapidary who engraved the ring of Polycrates ; 
 these and numberless articles of virtu testified to the uni- 
 versality of what St. Elmo called his "world scrapings," 
 and to the reckless extravagance and archaistic taste of the 
 collector. On a verd-antique table lay a satin cushion, 
 holding a vellum MS., bound in blue velvet, whose uncial 
 letters were written in purple ink, powdered witbtgold-dust, 
 while the margins were stiff with gilded illuminations ; and 
 near the cushion, as if prepared to shed light on the curious 
 cryptography, stood an exquisite white glass lamp, shaped 
 like a vase and richly ornamented with Arabic inscriptions 
 in ultra-marine blue — a precious relic of some ruined Laura 
 in the Nitrian desert, by the aid of whose rays the hoary 
 hermits, whom St. Macarius ruled, broke the midnight 
 gloom chanting, " Kyrie eleison, Christe eleison" fourteen 
 
ST. ELMO 77 
 
 hundred years before St. Elmo's "birth. Irnir ediately oppo- 
 site, on an embossed ivory-stand, and protected from air and 
 dust by a glass case, were two antique goblets, one of green- 
 veined agate, one of blood-red onyx ; and into the coat- 
 ing of wax, spread along the ivory slab, were inserted 
 amphorae, one dry and empty, the other a third full ot 
 Falernian, whose topaz drops had grown strangely mellow 
 and golden in the ashy cellars of Ilerculaneum, and had 
 doubtless been destined for some luxurious trichnium in the 
 days of Titus. A small Byzantine picture, painted on wood, 
 with a silver frame ornamented with cornelian stars, and 
 the background heavily gilded, bung over an etagere, where 
 lay a leaf from Nebuchadnezzar's diary, one of those Baby- 
 lonish bricks on which his royal name was stamped. Near 
 it stood a pair of Bohemian vases representing the two va- 
 rieties of lotus — one velvety white with rose-colored veins, 
 the other with delicate blue petals. This latter whim had 
 cost a vast amount of time, trouble, and money, it having 
 been found difficult to carefully preserve, sketch, and paint 
 them for the manufacturer hi Bohemia, who had never seen 
 the holy lotus, and required specimens. But the indomi- 
 table will of the man, to whose wishes neither oceans nor 
 deserts opposed successful barriers, finally triumphed, and 
 the coveted treasures fully repaid their price as they glis- 
 tened in the gaslight, perfect as their prototypes slumber- 
 ing on the bosom of the Nile, under the blazing midnight 
 stars of rainless Egypt. Several handsome rosewood cases 
 were filled with rare books — two in Pali — centuries old; 
 and motlRaten volumes and valuable mss. — some in parch- 
 ment, some bound in boards — recalled the days of astrology 
 and alchemy, and the sombre mysteries of Rosicruoianisrn. 
 Side by side, on an ebony stand, lay an Elzevir Terence, 
 printed in red letters, and a curious Birman book, whose 
 pages consisted of thin leaves of ivory, gilded at the edges ; 
 and here too were black rhyta from Chiusi, and a cylix 
 from Vulci, and one of those quaint Peruvian jars, which 
 
78 ST. ELMO. 
 
 was so constructed that, when filled with water the aii 
 escaped in sounds that resembled that of the song or cry of 
 the animal represented on the vase or jar. In the space be- 
 tween the tall windows that fronted the lawn hung a weird, 
 life-size picture that took strange hold on the imagination 
 of all who looked at it. A gray-haired Cimbrian Prophetess, 
 u: white vestments and brazen girdle, with canvas mantle 
 fastened on the shoulder by a broad brazen clasp, stood/ 
 with bare feet, on a low, rude scaffolding, leaning upon her 
 sword, and eagerly watching, with divining eyes, the stream 
 of blood which trickled from the throat of the slaughtered 
 human victim down into the large brazen kettle beneath the 
 scaffold. The snowy locks and white mantle seemeti. to 
 nutter in the wind ; and those who gazed on the stony, inex- 
 orable face of the Prophetess, and into the glittering blue 
 eyes, shuddered and almost fancied they heard the patter- 
 ing of the gory stream against the sides of the brass cal- 
 dron. But expensive and rare as were these relics of by- 
 gone dynasties and mouldering epochs, there was one other 
 object for which the master would have given every thing 
 else in tins museum of curiosities, and the secret of which 
 no eyes but his own had yet explored. On a sculptured 
 slab, that once formed a portion of the architrave of the 
 Cave Teniple at Elephanta, was a splendid marble minia- 
 ture, four feet high, of that miracle of Saracenic architec- 
 ture, the Taj Mahal at Agra. The elaborate carving re- 
 sembled lace-work, and the beauty of the airy dome and 
 slender, glittering minarets of this mimic tomb of l!|Bor-Mahal 
 could find no parallel, save in the superb andTnatchless 
 original. The richly-carved door that closed the arch of the 
 tomb swung back on golden hinges, and opened only by a 
 euriously-shaped golden key, which never left Mr. Murray's 
 watch-chain; consequently what filled the penetralia was 
 left for the conjectures of the imaginative ; and when hiH 
 mother expressed a desire to examine it, he merely frowned 
 and said hastily : 
 
ST. JLMO. 79 
 
 "That is Pandora's box, minus imprisoLed hope. I f re- 
 ft): it should not be opened." 
 
 Immediately in front of the tomb he had posted a grim 
 sentinel- -a black marble statuette of Mors, modeled from 
 that hideous little brass figure which Spence saw at Flor- 
 ence, representing a skeleton sitting on the ground s resting 
 one arm on an urn. 
 
 Filled though it was with sparkling bijouterie that would 
 have graced the Barberini or Strozzi cabinets, the glitter of 
 the room was cold and cheerless. No light, childish feet 
 had ever pattered down the long rows of shining tiles; no 
 gushing mirthful laughter had ever echoed through those 
 lofty windows ; every thing pointed to the past — a classic, 
 storied past, but dead as the mummies of Karnac, and 
 treacherously, repulsively lustrous as the waves that break 
 in silver circles over the buried battlements, and rustling 
 palms, and defiled altars of the proud cities of the plain. No 
 rosy memories of early, happy manhood lingered here ; no 
 dewy gleam of the merry morning of life, when hope paint- 
 ed and peopled a smiling world ; no magic trifles that 
 prattled of the spring-time of a heart that, in wandering to 
 and fro through the earth, had fed itself with dust and 
 ashes, acrid and bitter ; had studiously collected only the 
 melancholy symbols of mouldering ruin, desolation, and 
 death, and which found its best type in the Taj Mahal, 
 that glistened so mockingly as the gas-light flickered over it. 
 
 A stranger looking upon St. Elmo Murray for the first 
 time, as he* paced the floor, would have found it difficult to 
 realize that only thirty-four years had plowed those deep, 
 rugged lines in his swarthy and colorless but still handsome 
 face ; where midnight orgies and habitual excesses had left 
 their unmistakable plague-spot, and Mephi stopheles had 
 stamped his signet. JBlase, cynical, scoffing, and hopeless, he 
 had stranded his life, and was recklessly striding to his 
 grave, .trampling upon the feelings of all with whom he 
 associated, and at war with a world, in which his lordly, 
 
80 ST. ELMO. 
 
 brilliant intellect would have lifted him to any eminence he 
 desired, and which, properly directed, would have made him 
 the benefactor and ornament of the society he snubbed and 
 derided. Like all strong though misguided natures, the 
 power and activity of his mind enhanced his wretchedness, 
 and drove him farther and farther from the path of recti- 
 tude ; while the consciousness that he was originally capable 
 of loftier, purer aims, and nobler pursuits than those that 
 now engrossed his perverted thoughts, rendered him savage- 
 ly morose. For nearly fifteen dreary years, nothing but 
 jeers and oaths and sarcasms had crossed his finely sculp- 
 tured lips, which had forgotten how to smile ; and it was 
 only when the mocking demon of the wine-cup looked out 
 from his gloomy gray eyes that his ringing, sneering laugh 
 struck like a dagger to the heart that loved him, that of hie 
 proud but anxious and miserable mother. To-night, for the 
 first time since his desperate plunge into the abyss of vice, 
 conscience, which he had believed effectually strangled, 
 stirred feebly, startling him with a faint moan, as unexpect- 
 ed as the echo from Morella's tomb, or the resurrection of 
 Ligeia ; and down the murdered years came wailing ghostly 
 memories, which even his iron will could no longer scourge 
 to silence. Clamorous as the avenging Erinnys, they re- 
 fused to be exorcised, and goaded him almost to frenzy. 
 
 Those sweet, low, timid tones, " I am sorry for you," 
 had astonished and mortified him. To be hated and 
 dreaded was not at all unusual or surpi-ising, but to be 
 pitied and despised was a sensation as novel as humiliating ; 
 and the fact that all his ferocity failed to intimidate the 
 u little vagrant " was unpleasantly puzzling. 
 
 For some time after Edna's departure he pondered all 
 Lhat had passed between them, and at length he muttered . 
 
 " How thoroughly she abhors me ! If I touch her, the 
 flesh absolutely writhes away from my hand, as if I were 
 plague-stricken or a leper. Her very eyelids shudder, 
 when she looks at me — and I believe she would more will- 
 
ST. ELMO. 81 
 
 ingly confront Apollyon himself. Strange ! Low she de- 
 tests me. I have half a mind to make her love me, even 
 despite herself. What a steady, brave look of scorn there 
 was in her splendid eyes when she told me to my face I 
 was sinful and cruel !" 
 
 He set his teeth hard, and his fingers clinched as if long 
 lug to crush something ; and then came a great revid- 
 sion, a fierce spasm of remorse, and his features writhed. 
 
 " Sinful ? Ay ! Cruel ? O my lost youth ! my cursed 
 and wrecked manhood ! If there be a hell blacker than my 
 miserable soul, man has not dreamed of nor language painted 
 it. What would I not give for a fresh, pure, and untram- 
 pled heart, such as slumbers peacefully in yonder room, 
 with no damning recollections to scare sleep from her pil- 
 low ? Innocent childhood !" 
 
 He threw himself into a chair, and hid his face in his 
 hands ; and thus an hour went by, during which he neither 
 moved nor sighed. 
 
 Tearing the veil, from the past, he reviewed it calmly, 
 relentlessly, vindictively, and at last, l'ising, he threw his 
 head back, with his wonted defiant air, and his face hard- 
 ened and darkened as he approached the marble mauso- 
 leum, and laid his hand upon the golden key. 
 
 " Too late ! too late ! I can not afford to reflect. The 
 devil himself would shirk the reading of such a record." 
 
 He fitted the key in the lock, but paused and laughed 
 scornfully as he slung it back on his chain. 
 
 " Pshaw ! I am a fool ! After all, I shall not need to see 
 them, the silly, childish mood has passed." 
 
 He filled a silver goblet with some strong spicy wine, 
 drank it, and taking down Candide, brightened the gas- 
 jets, lighted a fresh cigar, and began to read as he re< 
 suuied his walk : 
 
 " Lord of himself ; tliat heritage of woe — 
 That fearful empire which the human "breast 
 But holds to rob the heart within of rest" 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 RS. MURRAY had informed Edna that the gen- 
 tleman whom she had engaged to instruct hei 
 
 resided in the neighboring, town of , and 
 
 one Monday morning in August she carried hei 
 to see him, telling her, as they drove along, that he was the 
 minister of the largest church in the country, was an old friend 
 of her family, and that she considered herself exceedingly 
 fortunate in having prevailed upon him to consent to under- 
 take her education. The parsonage stood on the skirts of 
 the village, in a square immediately opposite the church, 
 and was separated from it by a wide handsome street, lined 
 on either side with elm trees. The old-fashioned house was 
 of brick, with a wooden portico jutting out over the front 
 door, and around the slender pillars twined honeysuckle 
 and clematis tendrils, purple with clustering bells ; while 
 the brick walls were draped with luxuriant ivy, that hung 
 in festoons from the eaves, and clambered up the chimneys 
 and in at the windows. The daily-swept walk leading to 
 the gate was bordered with white and purple lilies — " flags," 
 as the villagers dubbed them — and over the little gate 
 sprang an arch of lattice-work loaded with Belgian and Eng- 
 lish honeysuckle, whose fragrant wreaths drooped till they 
 touched the heads of all who entered. When Mrs. Murray 
 and Edna ascended the steps and knocked at the open door, 
 bearing the name "Allan Hammond," no living thing 
 was visible, save a th-rush that looked out shyly from the 
 clematis vines; and after waiting a moment, Mrs. Murray 
 
ST. ELMO. 83 
 
 entered unannounced. They looked into the pa: lor, with 
 its cool matting and white curtains and polished old-fash- 
 ioned mahogany furniture, but the room was unoccupied ; 
 then passing on to the library or study, where tiers of 
 books rose to the ceiling, they saw, through the open win* 
 dow, the form of the pastor, who was stooping to gather 
 the violets blooming in the little shaded garden at the rear 
 of the house. A large white cat sunned herself on the 
 strawberry bed, and a mocking-bird sang in the myrtle-tree 
 that overshadowed the study-window. Mrs. Murray calleo. 
 to the minister, and taking off his straw hat he bowed, and 
 came to meet them. 
 
 " Mr. Hammond, I hope I do not interrupt you ?" 
 
 " No, Ellen, you never interrupt me. I was merely 
 gathering some violets to strew in a child's coffin. Susan 
 Archer, poor thing ! lost her little Winnie last night, and I 
 knew she would like some flowers to sprinkle over her 
 baby." 
 
 He shook hands with Mrs. Murray, and turning to her 
 companion offered his hand, saying kindly : 
 
 " This is my pupil, Edna, I presume ? I expected you 
 several days ago, and am very glad to see you at last. 
 Come into the house and let us become acquainted at 
 once." 
 
 As he led the way to the library, talking the while to 
 Mrs. Murray, Edna's eyes followed him with an expression 
 of intense veneration, for he appeared to her a living origi- 
 nal of the pictured prophets — the Samuel, Isaiah, and Eze- 
 kiel, whose faces she had studied in the large illustrated 
 Bible that lay on a satin cushion in the sitting-rcom at 
 Le Bocage. Sixty-five years of wrestling and conquests 
 on the " Quarantina" of life had set upon his noble and 
 benignant countenance the seal of holiness, and shed over 
 his placid features the mild, sweet light of a pure, serene 
 heart, of a lofty, trusting, sanctified soul. His white hair 
 and beard had the silvery sheen which seems peculiar to 
 
84 & T - ELMC. 
 
 prematurely gray heads, and the snowy mass wondei fully 
 softened the outline of the face ; while the pleasant smile on 
 his lips, the warm, cheering light in his bright blue eyes, 
 won the perfect trust, the profound respect, the lasting love 
 and veneration of those who entered the charmed circle of 
 his influence. Learned without pedantry, dignified but not 
 pompous, genial and urbane ; never forgetting the sanctity 
 of his mission, though never thrusting its credentials into 
 notice ; judging the actions of all with a leniency which he 
 denied to his own ; zealous without bigotry, charitable yet 
 rigidly just, as free from austerity as levity, his heart 
 throbbed with warm, tender sympathy for his race ; and 
 while none felt his or her happiness complete until his cor- 
 dial congratulations sealed it, every sad mourner realized 
 that her burden of woe was lightened when poured into 
 his sympathizing ears. The sage counselor of the aged 
 among his flock, he was the loved companion of the 
 younger members, in whose juvenile sports and sorrows he 
 was never too busy to interest himself; and it was not sur- 
 prising that over all classes and denominations he wielded 
 an influence incalculable for good. The limits of one 
 church could not contain his great heart, which went forth 
 in yearning love and fellowship to his Christian brethren 
 and co-laborers throughout the world, while the refrain of 
 his daily work was, " Bear ye one another's burdens." So 
 in the evening of a life blessed with the bounteous fruitage 
 of good deeds, he walked to and fro, in the wide vineyard 
 of God, with the light of peace, of faith, and hope, and 
 • sallowed resignation shining over his worn and aged face. 
 
 Drawing Edna to a seat beside him on the sofa, Mr. Ham 
 mond said : 
 
 " Zdrs. Murray has intrusted your education entirely to 
 :ne; but before I decide positively what books you will re- 
 quire I should like to know what particular branches of 
 study you love best. Do you feel disposed to take up 
 Latin ?" 
 
ST. ELMO. 
 
 "Yes, sir — and- 
 
 " Well, go on, my dear. Do not hesitate to speak frteiy." 
 
 " If you please, sir, I should like to study Greek also." 
 
 " nonsense, Edna ! women never have any use for 
 Greek ; it would only be a waste of your time," interrupted 
 Mrs. Murray. 
 
 Mr. Hammond smiled and shook his head. 
 
 " Why do you wish to study Greek ? You will scarcely 
 be called upon to teach it." 
 
 " I should not think that I was well or thoroughly edu- 
 cated if I did not understand Greek and Latin ; and beside, 
 I want to read what Solon and Pericles and Demosthenes 
 wrote in their own language." 
 
 " Why, what do you know about those men ?" 
 
 " Only what Plutarch says." 
 
 " What kind of books do you read with most pleasure ?" 
 
 " History and travels." 
 
 " Are you fond of arithmetic ?" 
 
 " No, sir." 
 
 " But as a teacher you will have much more use for ma- 
 thematics than for Greek." 
 
 " I should think that, with all my life before me, I might 
 study both ; and even if I should have no use for it, it would 
 do me no harm to understand it. Knowledge is never in 
 the way, is it ?" 
 
 " Certainly not half so often as ignorance. Very well ; 
 you shall learn Greek as fast as you please. I should like 
 to hear you read something. Here is Goldsmith's Desert- 
 ed Village ; suppose you try a few lines ; begin here at 
 ' Sweet was the sound.' " 
 
 She read aloud the passage designated, and as he ex- 
 pressed himself satisfied, and took the book from her hand, 
 Mrs. Murray said : 
 
 "I think the child is as inveterate a book-worm as I ever 
 knew ; but for heaven's sake, Mr Hammond, do not make 
 her a blue-stocking." 
 
86 ST. ELMO. 
 
 " Ellen, did you ever see a genuine blue-stocking ?" 
 
 " I am happy to be able to say that I never was so unfor 
 tunate !" 
 
 " You consider yourself lucky, then, in not having known 
 De Stael, Hannah More, Charlotte Bronte, and Mrs. Brown 
 ing ?" 
 
 " To be consistent of course I must answer yes ; but you 
 know we women are never supposed to understand that 
 term, much less possess the jewel itself; and beside, sir, 
 you take undue advantage of me, for the women you men- 
 tion were truly, great geniuses. I was not objecting to 
 genius in women." 
 
 " Without those auxiliaries and adjuncts which you de. 
 precate so earnestly, would their native genius ever have 
 distinguished them, or charmed and benefited the world ? 
 Brilliant success makes blue-stockings autocratic, and the 
 world flatters and crowns them ; but unsuccessful aspirants 
 are strangled with an offensive sobriquet, than which it 
 were better that they had millstones tied about their necks. 
 After all, Ellen, it is rather ludicrous, and seems very unfair 
 that the whole class of literary ladies should be sneered at 
 on account of the color of Stillingfleet's stockings eighty 
 years ago." 
 
 " If you please, sir, I should like to know the meaning of 
 ' blue-stocking ' ?" said Edna. 
 
 " You are in a fair way to understand it if you study 
 Greek," answered Mrs. Murray, laughing at the puzzled ex 
 pression of the child's countenance. 
 
 Mr. Hammond smiled, and replied : 
 
 " A ' blue-stocking,' my dear, is generally supposed to be 
 a lady, neither young, pleasant, nor pretty, (and in most 
 instances unmarried ;) who is unamiable, ungraceful, and 
 untidy ; ignorant of all domestic accomplishments and truly 
 feminine acquirements, and ambitious of appearing very 
 learned ; a woman whose fingers are more frequently 
 adorned with ink-spots than thimble ; who holds housekeep- 
 
ST. ELMO. 87 
 
 ing in detestation, and talks loudly about politics, science-, 
 and philosophy ; who is ugly, and learned, and cross ; whose 
 hair is never smooth and whose ruffles are never fluted. la 
 that a correct likeness, Ellen ?" 
 
 " As good as one of Brady's photographs. Take warn- 
 ing, Edna." 
 
 " The title of ' blue-stocking,' " continued the pastor, 
 " originated in a jest, many, many years ago, when a circle 
 of very brilliant, witty, and elegant ladies in London, met 
 at the house of Mrs. Vesey, to listen to and take part in the 
 conversation of some of the most gifted and learned mev 
 England has ever produced. One of those gentlemen, Stil- 
 lingfleet, who always wore blue stockings, was so exceed- 
 ingly agreeable and instructive, that when he chanced to 
 be absent the company declared the party was a failure 
 without ' the blue stockings,' as he was familiarly called. 
 A Frenchman, who heard of the circumstance, gave to these 
 conversational gatherings the name of ' has bleu,'' which 
 means blue stocking ; and hence, you see, that in popular 
 acceptation, I mean in public opinion, the humorous title, 
 which was given in compliment to a very charming gentle- 
 man, is now supposed to belong to very tiresome, pedantic, 
 and disagreeable ladies. Do you understand the matter 
 now ?" 
 
 " I do not quite understand why ladies have not as good 
 a right to be learned and wise as gentlemen." 
 
 "To satisfy you on that point would involve more his- 
 torical discussion than we have time for this morning; 
 some day we will look into the past and find a solution of 
 the question. Meanwhile you may study as hard as you 
 please, and remember, my dear, that where one woman is 
 considered a blue-stocking, and tiresomely learned, twenty 
 are more tiresome still because they know nothing. I will 
 obtain all the books you need, and hereafter you must come 
 to me every morning at nine o'clock. When the weather 
 is good, you can easily walk over from Mrs. Murray's." 
 
88 ST. ELMO. 
 
 As they rode homeward, Edna asked : 
 
 " Has Mr. Hammond a family ?" 
 
 " No ; he lost his family years ago. But whj do you 
 ask that question ?" 
 
 " I saw no lady, and I wondered who kept the 1 ouse in 
 such nice order." 
 
 " He has a very faithful servant who attends to his house- 
 hold affairs. In your intercourse with Mr. Hammond be 
 careful not to allude to his domestic afflictions." 
 
 Mrs. Murray looked earnestly, searchingly at the girl, as 
 as if striving to fathom her thoughts ; then throwing her 
 head back, with the haughty air which Edna had remarked 
 in St. Elmo, she compressed her lips, lowered her vail, and 
 remained silent and abstracted until they reached home. 
 
 The comprehensive and very thorough curriculum of 
 studies now eagerly commenced by Edna, and along which 
 she was gently and skillfully guided by the kind hand of 
 the teacher, furnished the mental aliment for which she 
 hungered, gave constant and judicious exercise to her 
 active intellect, and induced her to visit the quiet parsonage 
 library as assiduously as did Horace, Valgius, and Virgil 
 the gardens on the Esquiline where Maecenas held his lit- 
 erary assize. Instead of skimming a few text-books that 
 cram the brain with unwieldy scientific technicalities and 
 pompous philosophic terminology, her range of thought and 
 study gradually stretched out into a broader, grander cycle, 
 embracing, as she grew older, the application of those great 
 principles that underlie modern science and crop out in 
 ever-varying phenomena and empirical classifications. Ed- 
 na's tutor seemed impressed with the fallacy of the popular 
 system of acquiring one branch of learning at a time, lock- 
 ing it away as in drawers of rubbish, never to be opened, 
 where it moulders in shapeless confusion till swept out 
 ultimately to make room for more recent scientific invoices. 
 Thus in lieu of the educational plan of " finishing natural 
 philosophy and chemistry this session, and geology and 
 
ST. ELMO. 89 
 
 astronomy next term, and taking up mora, science and ciit- 
 icism the year we graduate," Mr. Hammond allowed his 
 pupil to finish and lay aside no ae of her studies ; but sought 
 to impress upon her the great value of Blackstone's aphor- 
 ism : " For sciences are of a sociable disposition, and flour- 
 ish best in the neighborhood of each other ; nor is there 
 any branch of learning but may be helped and improved by 
 assistance drawn from other arts." 
 
 Finding that her imagination was remarkably fertile, he 
 required her, as she advanced in years, to compose essays, 
 letters, dialogues, and sometimes orations, all of which 
 were not only written and handed in for correction, but he 
 frequently directed her to recite them from memory, and 
 invited her to assist him, while he dissected and criticised 
 either her diction, line of argument, choice of metaphors, or 
 intonation of voice. In these compositions he encouraged 
 her to seek illustration from every department of letters, and 
 convert her theme into a focus, upon which to pour all the 
 concentrated light which research could reflect, assuring 
 her that what is often denominated " far-fetchedness," in 
 metaphors, furnishes not only evidence of the laborious in- 
 dustry of the writer, but is an implied compliment to the 
 cultured taste and general knowledge of those for whose 
 entertainment or edification they are employed — provided 
 always said metaphors and similes really illustrate, eluci- 
 date, and adorn the theme discussed — when properly under- 
 stood. 
 
 His favorite plea in such instances was, " If Humboldt 
 and Cuvier, and Linnseus, and Ehrenberg have made man- 
 kind their debtors by scouring the physical cosmos for 
 scientific data, which every living savant devours, assimi- 
 lates, and reproduces in dynamic, physiologic, or entomolo- 
 gic theories, is it not equally laudable in scholars, orators, 
 and authors — nay, is it not obligatory on them, to subsi- 
 dize the vast cosmos of literature, to circumnavigate the 
 world of belles-lettres, m search of new hemispheres of 
 
90 ST. ELMO. 
 
 thought, and spice islands of illustrations,; bringing tJtii 
 rich gleanings to the great public mart, where men bartei 
 their intellectual merchandise ? Wide as the universe, and 
 free as its winds, should be the range of human mind." 
 
 Yielding allegiance to the axiom that " the proper study 
 of mankind is man," and recognizing the fact that history 
 faithfully epitomizes the magnificent triumphs and stupen- 
 dous failures, the grand capacities and innate frailties of 
 the races, he fostered and stimulated his pupil's fondness 
 for historic investigation ; while in impressing upon her 
 memory the chronologic sequence of events he not only 
 grouped into great epochs the principal dramas, over which 
 Clio holds august critical tribunal, but so carefully selected 
 her miscellaneous reading, that poetry, novels, biography, 
 and essays reflected light upon the actors of the particular 
 epoch which she was studying ; and thus, through the sub- 
 tle but imperishable links of association of ideas, chained 
 them in her mind. 
 
 The extensive library at Le Bocage, and the valuable col- 
 lection of books at the parsonage, challenged research, and, 
 with a boundless ambition, equaled only by her patient, 
 persevering application, Edna devoted herself to the ac- 
 quisition of knowledge, and astonished and delighted her 
 teacher by the rapidity of her progress and the vigor and 
 originality of her restless intellect, 
 
 The noble catholicity of spirit that distinguished Mr 
 Hammond's character encouraged her to discuss freely the 
 ethical and psychological problems that arrested her atten- 
 tion as she grew older, and facilitated her appreciation and 
 acceptance of the great fact, that all bigotry springs from 
 narrow minds and partial knowledge. He taught her that 
 truth, scorning monopolies and deriding patents, lends some 
 valuable element to almost every human system ; that ignor- 
 ance, superstition, and intolerance are the red-handed Huns 
 that ravage society, immolating the pioneers of progress 
 upon the shrine of prejudice — fettering science — blindly 
 
ST. ELMO. 9j 
 
 bent on divorcing natural and revealed trut;.., which Goc 
 "hath joined together" in holy and eternal wedlock ; and 
 while they battle a Voutrance with every innovation, loci 
 the wheels of human advancement, turning a deaf ear tc 
 the thrilling cry : 
 
 ' Tfet I doubt not through, the ages one increasing purpose rung, 
 And the thoughts of men are widened with the process, of the sune. 
 
 If Carlyle be correct in his declaration that " Truly a 
 thinking man is the worst enemy the prince of darkness 
 can have, and every time such a one announces himself 
 there runs a shudder through the nether empire, where new 
 emissaries are trained with new tactics, to hoodwink and 
 handcuff him," who can doubt that the long dynasty of 
 Eblis will instantly terminate, when every pulpit in Christ- 
 endom, from the frozen shores of Spitzbergen to the green 
 dells of Owhyhee, from the shining spires of Europe to the 
 rocky battlements that front the Pacific, shall be filled with 
 meek and holy men of ripe scholarship and resistless elo- 
 quence, whose scientific erudition keeps pace with their 
 evangelical piety, and whose irreproachable lives attest that 
 their hearts are indeed hallowed temples of that loving 
 charity " that suffereth long and is kind ; that vaunteth not 
 itself, is not puffed up ; thinketh no evil ; beareth all things, 
 hopeth all things, endureth all things" ? 
 
 While Christ walked to and fro among the palms and 
 poppies of Palestine, glorifying anew an accursed and de- 
 graded human nature, unlettered fishermen, who mended 
 their nets and trimmed their sails along the blue waves of 
 Galilee, were fit instruments, in his guiding hands, for the 
 dissemination of his gospel ; but when the days of the In- 
 carnation ended, and Jesus returned to the Father, all the 
 learning and the mighty genius of Saul of Tarsus were re- 
 quired to confront and refute the scoffing sophists who, re- 
 plete with philhellenic lore, and within sight of the mar- 
 vellous triglyphs and metopes of the Parthenon, gathered 
 on Mars' Hill to defend their marble altars ' to the Unknown 
 God." 
 
V"*" - 
 
 CHAPTER Yin. 
 
 URING the months of September and October 
 Mrs. Murray filled the house with company, 
 and parties of gentlemen came from time to 
 time to enjoy the game season and take part in 
 the hunts to which St. Elmo devoted himself. There were 
 elegant dinners and petits sotcpers that would not have 
 disgraced Tusculum, or made Lucullus blush when Pom- 
 pey and Cicero sought to sui^rise him in the " Apollo ;" 
 there were billiard-matches and horse-races, and merry 
 gatherings at the ten-pin alley ; and laughter, and music, 
 and dancing usurped the dominions where silence and 
 gloom had so long reigned. Naturally shy and unaccus- 
 tomed to companionship, Edna felt no desire to participate 
 in these festivities, but became more and more absorbed in 
 her studies, and her knowledge of the company was limited 
 to the brief intercourse of the table, where she observed 
 the deference yielded to the opinions of the master of the 
 house, and the dread that all manifested lest they should 
 fall under the lash of his merciless sarcasm. An Ishmael in 
 society, his uplifted hand smote all conventionalities and 
 shams, spared neither age nor sex, nor sanctuaries, and ac- 
 knowledged sanctity nowhere. The punctilious courtesy 
 of his manner polished and pointed his satire, and when a 
 personal application of his remarks was possible, he would 
 bow gracefully to the lady indicated, and fill her glass with 
 wine, while he filled her heart with chagrin and rankling 
 hate. Since the restoration of the Dante, not a word had 
 
ST. ELMO. 1)3 
 
 passed "between him and Edna, who regarded him with in- 
 creasing detestation ; but on one occasion, when the con- 
 versation was general, and he sat silent at the foot of the 
 table, she looked up at him and found his eyes fixed on her 
 face. Inclining his head slightly to arrest her attention, he 
 handed a decanter of sherry to one of the servants, with 
 some brief direction, and a moment after her glass was 
 filled, and the waiter said : 
 
 . " Mr. Murray's compliments to Aaron Hunt's granddaugh- 
 ter." Observation had taught her what was customary on 
 such occasions, and she knew that he had once noticed hei 
 taking wine with the gentleman who sat next to her ; but 
 now repugnance conquered politeness, the mention of her 
 grandfather's name seemed an insult from his lips, and put- 
 ting her hand over her glass, she looked him full in the 
 face and shook her head. Nevertheless he lifted his wine, 
 bowed, and drank the last drop in the crystal goblet ; then 
 turned to a gentleman on his right hand, and instantly en- 
 tered into a learned discussion on the superiority of the 
 wines of the Levant over those of Germany, quoting 
 triumphantly the lines of M. de Nevers : 
 
 " Sur la membrane de leur sens, 
 Font des sillons charmans." 
 
 When the ladies withdrew to the parlor he rose, as was 
 his custom, and held the door open for them. Edna was 
 the last of the party, and as she passed him he smiled 
 mockingly and said : 
 
 "It was unfortunate that my mother omitted to enumer- 
 ate etiquette in the catalogue of studies prosecuted at the 
 parsonage." 
 
 Instantly t<ie answer sprang to her lips : 
 
 "She knew I had a teacher for that branch, nearer 
 home ;" but her conscience smote her, she repressed the 
 words, and said gravely : 
 
 " My reason was, that I think only good friends should 
 take wine together.' 
 
94 ST. ELMO. 
 
 "This is your declaration of war? Very 'well, only 
 remember I raise a black flag and show no quarter. Woe 
 to the conquered !" 
 
 She hurried away to the library, and thenceforth " kept 
 out of his way" more assiduously than ever; while the 
 fact that he scrutinized her closely, rendered her con- 
 strained and uncomfortable, when forced to enter his pres- 
 ence. Mrs. Murray well understood her hostile feeling 
 toward her son, but she never alluded to it, and his name 
 was not mentioned by either. 
 
 One by one the guests departed ; autumn passed, winter 
 was ushered in by wailing winds and drizzling rains ; and 
 one morning as Edna came out of the hothouse, with a 
 basketful of camellias, she saw St. Elmo bidding his 
 mother good-by, as he started on his long journey to 
 Oceanica. They stood on the steps, Mrs. Murray's head 
 rested on his shoulder, and bitter tears were falling on her 
 cheeks as she talked eagerly and rapidly to him. Edna 
 heard him say impatiently : 
 
 " You ask what is impossible ; it is worse than useless to 
 urge me. Better pray that I may find a peaceful grave in 
 the cinnamon groves and under the ' plumy palms' of the 
 far South." 
 
 lie kissed his mother's cheek and sprang into the sad- 
 dle, but checked his horse at sight .of the orphan, who stood 
 a few yards distant. 
 
 " Are you coming to say good-by ? Or do you reserve 
 such courtesies for your ' good friends ' ?" 
 
 Regret for her former rudeness, and sympathy for Mrs 
 Murray's uncontrollable distress, softened her heart toward 
 him. She selected the finest white camellia in the basket, 
 walked close to the horse, and, tendering the flower, said: 
 
 " Good-by, sir. I hope you will enjoy your travels." 
 
 " And prolong them indefinitely ? Ah ! you offer a flag 
 of truce ? I warned you I should not respect it. You 
 know my motto, ' JVemo me impune lacessitf Thank you 
 
8T. ELMC. 95 
 
 lor this lovely peace-offering. Since you are aiding to ae- 
 gotiate, run and open the gate for me. I may never pass 
 thi ough it again except as a ghost." 
 
 She placed her basket on the steps and ran down the 
 avenue, while he paused to say something to his mother. 
 Edna knew that he expected to be absent, possibly, several 
 years, and while she regretted the pain which his departure 
 gave her benefactress, she could not avoid rejoicing at the 
 relief she promised herself during his sojourn in foreign lands. 
 
 Slowly he rode along the venerable aisle of elms that had 
 overarched his childish head in the sunny morning of a 
 quickly clouded life, and as he reached the gate, which 
 Edna held open, he dismounted. 
 
 " Edna, if you are as truthful in all matters as you have 
 proved in your dislikes, I may safely intrust this key to 
 your keeping. It belongs to that marble temple in my 
 sitting-room, and opens a vault that contains my will, and 
 a box of papers, and — some other things that I value. There 
 is no possibility of entering it, except with this key, and no 
 one but myself knows the contents. I wish to leave the key 
 with you, on two conditions ; first, that you never mention 
 it to any one — not even my mother, or allow her to suspect 
 that you have it ; secondly, that you promise me solemnly 
 you will not open the tomb or temple unless I fail to return 
 at the close of four years. This is the tenth of December — 
 four years from to-day, if I am not here, and if you have 
 good reason to consider me dead, take this key (which I wish 
 you to wear about your person) to my mother, inform her 
 of this conversation, and then open the vault. Can you 
 resist the temptation to look into it ? Think well before 
 you answer." 
 
 He had disengaged the golden key from his watch-chain 
 and held it in his hand. 
 
 " I should not like to take charge of it, Mr. Murray. You 
 ran certainly trust your own mother sooner than an utter 
 stranger like myself." 
 
96 ST. ELMO. 
 
 He frowned and muttered an oath ; then exclaimed, 
 " I tell you, I do not choose to leave it in any hands but 
 yours. Will you promise or will you not ?" 
 
 The dreary wretchedness, the savage hopelessness of hia 
 countenance awed and pained the girl, and after a moment's 
 silence, and a short struggle with her heart, she extended 
 her hand, saying with evident reluctance : 
 
 " Give me the key, I will not betray your trust." 
 " Do you promise me solemnly that you will never open 
 that vault, except in accordance with my directions ? Weigh 
 the promise well before you give it." 
 " Yes, sir ; I promise most solemnly." 
 He laid the key in her palm and continued : 
 " My mother loves you — try to make her happy while I 
 am away ; and if you succeed, you will be the first person 
 to whom I have ever been indebted. I have left directions 
 concerning my books and the various articles in my rooms. 
 Feel no hesitation in examining any that may interest you, 
 and see that the dust does not ruin them. Good-by, child ; 
 take care of my mother." 
 
 He held out his hand, she gave him hers for an instant 
 only, and he mounted, lifted his cap, and rode away. 
 
 Closing the ponderous gate, Edna leaned her face against 
 the iron bars, and watched the lessening form. Gradually 
 trees intervened, then at a bend in the road she saw him 
 wheel his horse as if to return. For some moments he re 
 mained stationary, looking back, but suddenly disappeared , 
 and, with a sigh of indescribable relief, she retraced her 
 steps to the house. As she approached the spot where Mrs, 
 Murray still sat, with her face hidden in her handkerchief 
 the touch of the little key, tightly folded in her palm, brought 
 a painful consciousness of concealment and a tinge of shame 
 to her cheeks ; for it seemed in her eyes an insult to her 
 benefactress that the guardianship of the papers should 
 have been withheld from her. 
 
 She would have stolen away to her own rcom to secrete 
 
ST. ELMO. 97 
 
 the key ; but Mrs. Murray called her, and as she sat down 
 beside her the miserable mother threw her amis around the 
 orphan, and resting her cheek on her head wept bitterly. 
 Timidly, but very gently and tenderly, the latter strove to 
 comfort her, caressing the white hands that were clasped in 
 almost despairing anguish. 
 
 " Dear Mrs. Murray, do not grieve so deeply ; he may 
 come back much earlier than you expect. He will get tired 
 of travelling, and come back to his own beautiful home, 
 and to you, who love him so devotedly." 
 
 " No, no ! he will stay away as long as possible. It is 
 not beautiful to him. He hates his home and forgets me ! 
 My loneliness, my anxiety, are nothing in comparison to his 
 niorbid love of change. I shall never see him again." 
 
 " But he loves you very much, and that will bring him 
 to you." 
 
 " Why do you think so ?" 
 
 " He pointed to you, a few moments ago, and his face was 
 full of wretchedness when he told me, ' Make my mother 
 happy while I am gone, and you will be the first person to 
 whom I have ever been indebted.' Do not weep so, dear 
 Mrs. Murray ; God can preserve him as well on sea as here 
 at home." 
 
 "Oh! but he will not pray for himself!" sobbed the 
 mother. 
 
 " Then you must pray all the more for him ; and go 
 where he will, he can not get beyond God's sight, or out 
 of His merciful hands. You know Christ said, ' Whatso- 
 ever you ask in my name, I will do it ;' and if the Syro- 
 pbtnician's daughter was saved not by her own prayers 
 but by her mother's faith, why should not God save your 
 son if you pray and believe ?" 
 
 Mrs. Murray clasped Edna closer to her heart, and kissed 
 her warmly. 
 
 " You are my only comfort ! If I had your faith I should 
 not be so unhappy. My dear child, promise me one thing, 
 
98 ST. ELMO. 
 
 that every time you pray you will reuiembe.* my son, cud 
 ask God to preserve him in his wanderings, and bring hin 
 safely hack to his mother ! I know you do not like hin? 
 but for my sake will you not do this ?" 
 
 " My prayers are not worth much, but I will always re 
 member to pray for him ; and, Mrs. Murray, while he ii 
 away, suppose you have family prayer, and let all the house 
 hold join in praying for the absent master. I think it would 
 be such a blessing and comfort to you. Grandpa always 
 had prayer night and morning, and it made every day seem 
 almost as holy as Sunday." 
 
 Mrs. Murray was silent a little while, and answered hesi- 
 tatingly : 
 
 " But, my dear, I should not know how to offer up prayers 
 before the family. I can pray for myself, but I should not 
 like to pray aloud." 
 
 There was a second pause, and finally she said : 
 
 " Edna, would you be willing to conduct prayers for 
 me?" 
 
 " It is your house, and God expects the head of every 
 family to set an example. Even the pagans offered sacri- 
 fices every day for the good of the household, and you know 
 the Jews had morning and evening sacrifices ; so it seema 
 to me family prayer is such a beautiful offering on the altar 
 of the hearthstone. If you do not wish to pray yourself, 
 you could read a prayer ; there is a book called Family 
 Prayer, with selections for every day in the week. I saw a 
 copy at the parsonage, and I can get one like it at the book- 
 store if you desire it." 
 
 " That will suit my purpose much better than trying to 
 compose them myself. You must get the book for me. 
 But, Edna, don't go to school to-day, stay at home with 
 me ; I am so lonely and low-spirited. I will tell Mr. Ham- 
 mond that I could not spare you. Beside, I want you t<*» 
 help me arrange some valuable relics belonging to my son ; 
 and now that I think of it, he told me he wished you to use 
 
SI. ELMO. 9<j 
 
 any of Ms books or mss. that you migLt like to examine. 
 This is a great honor, child, for he has refused maLy grown 
 people admission to his rooms. Come with me, I want to 
 lock up his curiosities." 
 
 They went through the rotundo and into the rooms to- 
 gether ; and Mrs. Murray busied herself in carefully remov- 
 ing the cameos, intaglios, antique vases, goblets, etc., etc., 
 from the tables, and placing them in the drawers of the 
 cabinets. As she crossed the room tears fell on the costly 
 trifles, and finally she approached the beautiful miniature 
 temple, and stooped to look at the fastening. She selected 
 the smallest key on the bunch, that contained a dozen, and 
 attempted to fit it in the small opening, but it was too large ; 
 then she tried her watch-key, but without success, and a 
 look of chagrin crossed her sad, tear-stained face — 
 
 " St. Elmo has forgotten to leave the key with me." 
 
 Edna's face grew scarlet, and stooping to pick up a heavy 
 cornelian seal that had fallen on the carpet, she said hastily: 
 
 " What is that marble temple intended to hold ?" 
 
 " I have no idea ; it is one of my son's oriental fancies. I 
 presume he uses it as a private desk for his papers." 
 
 "Does he leave the key with you when he goes from 
 home ?" 
 
 " This is the first time he has left home for more than a 
 few weeks since he brought this gem from the East. I 
 must write to him about the key before he sails. He has 
 it on his watch-chain." 
 
 The same curiosity which, in ages long past, prompted 
 the discovery of the Eleusinian or Cabiri mysteries now 
 suddenly took possession of Edna, as she looked wondering- 
 ly at the shining facade of the exquisite Taj Mahal, and felt 
 that only a promise stood between her and its contents. 
 
 Escaping to her own room, she proceeded to secrete the 
 troublesome key, and to reflect upon the unexpected cir- 
 cumstances which not only rendered it her duty to pray for 
 the wanderer but necessitated her keeping always about 
 
100 ST. ELMO. 
 
 her a souvenir of the man whom she could net avoid detest- 
 ing, and was yet forced to remember continually. 
 
 On the following day, when she went to her usual morn- 
 ing recitation, and gave the reason for her absence, she 
 noticed that Mr. Hammond's hand trembled, and a look of 
 keen sorrow settled on his face. 
 
 " Gone again ! and so soon ! So far, far away from all 
 good influences !" 
 
 He put down the Latin grammar and walked to the win 
 dow, where he stood for some time, and when he returned 
 to his arm-chair Edna saw that the muscles of his face were 
 unsteady. 
 
 "Did he not stop to tell you good-by?" 
 
 " No, my dear, he never comes to the parsonage now. 
 When he was a boy, I taught him here in this room, as I 
 now teach you. But for fifteen years he has not crossed my 
 threshold, and yet I never sleep until I have prayed for 
 him." 
 
 " Oh ! I am so glad to hear that ! ISTow I know he will 
 be saved." 
 
 The minister shook his gray head, and Edna saw tears 
 in his mild blue eyes as he answered : 
 
 "A man's repentance and faith can not be offered by 
 proxy to God. So long as St. Elmo Murray persists in in- 
 sulting his Maker, I shudder for his final end. He has the 
 finest intellect I have ever met among living men ; but it is 
 unsanctified — worse still, it is dedicated to the work of 
 scoffing at and blaspheming the truths of religion. In hia 
 youth he promised to prove a blessing to his race and an 
 ornament to Christianity ; now he is a curse to the world 
 and a dreary burden to himself." 
 
 " What changed him so sadly ?" 
 
 " Some melancholy circumstances that occurred early in 
 his life. Edna, he planned and built that beautiful church 
 where you come on Sabbath to hear me preach, and about 
 the time it was finished he went off to college. When he 
 
ST. ELMO. 101 
 
 returned he avoided me, and has never yet bee: inside oi 
 the costly church which his taste and his money construct- 
 ed. Still, while I live, I shall not sease to pray for him, 
 hoping that in God's own good time he will bring him back 
 to the puro faith of his boyhood." 
 
 " Mr. Hammond, is he not a very wicked man ?" 
 
 " He had originally the noblest heart I ever knew, and 
 was as tender in his sympathies as a woman, while he was 
 almost reckless in his munificent charities. But in his pre- 
 sent irreligious state I hear that he has grown bitter and 
 sour and illiberal. Yet, however repulsive his manner may 
 be, I can not believe that his nature is utterly perverted. 
 He is dissipated but not unprincipled. Let him rest, my 
 child, in the hands of his God, who alone can judge him. 
 We can but pray and hope. Go on with your lesson." 
 
 The recitation was resumed and ended ; but Edna was 
 well aware that for the first time her teacher was inatten- 
 tive, and the heavy sighs that passed his lips almost uncon- 
 sciously told her how sorely he was distressed by the er- 
 ratic course of his quondam pupil. 
 
 When she rose to go home she asked the name of the 
 author of the Family Prayers which she wished to purchase 
 for Mrs. Murray, and the pastor's face flushed with plea- 
 sure as he heard of her cherished scheme. 
 
 " My dear child, be circumspect, be prudent ; above all 
 things, be consistent. Search your own heart ; try to make 
 your life an exposition of your faith ; let profession and 
 practice go hand in hand ; ask God's special guidance in 
 the difficult position in which you are placed, and your in- 
 fluence for good in Mrs. Murray's family may be beyond 
 all computation." Laying his hands on her head, he con- 
 tinued tremulously : " O my God ! if it be thy will, make 
 her the instrument of rescuing, ere it be indeed too late. 
 Help me to teach her aright ; and let her pure life atone for 
 all the inconsistencies and wrongs that have well-nigh 
 wrought, eternal ruin." 
 
102 ST. ELMO. 
 
 Turning quickly away, he left the roon, before she could 
 even catch a glimpse of his countenance. 
 
 The strong and lasting affection that sprang up between 
 instructor and pupil — the sense of dependence on each 
 other's society — rarely occurs among persons in whose ages 
 so great a disparity exists. Spring and autumn have no 
 affinities — age has generally no sympathy for the gushing 
 sprightliness, the eager questioning, the rose-hued dreams 
 and aspirations of young people ; and youth shrinks chilled 
 and constrained from the austere companionship of those 
 who, with snowy locks gilded by the fading rays of a setting 
 sun, totter down the hill of life, journeying to the dark and 
 silent valley of the shadow of death. 
 
 Preferring Mr. Hammond's society to that of the com- 
 parative strangers who visited Mrs. Murray, Edna spent 
 half of her time at the quiet parsonage, and the remainder 
 with her books and music. That under auspices so favor- 
 able her progress was almost unprecedentedly rapid, fur- 
 nished matter of surprise to no one who was capable of esti- 
 mating the results of native genius and vigorous applica- 
 tion. Mrs. Murray watched the expansion of her mind, 
 and the development of her beauty, with emotions of pride 
 and pleasure, which, had she analyzed them, would have 
 told her how dear and necessary to her happiness the orphan 
 had become. 
 
 As Edna's reasoning powers strengthened, Mr. Hammond 
 led her gradually to the contemplation of some of the grav- 
 est problems that have from time immemorial perplexed 
 and maddened humanity, plunging one half into blind, big- 
 oted traditionalism, and scourging the other into the dreary, 
 sombre, starless wastes of Pyrrhonism. Knowing full well 
 that of every earnest soul and honest, profound thinker 
 these ontologic questions would sooner or later demand 
 audience, he wisely placed her in the philosophic pcdcestra, 
 encouraged her wrestlings, cheered her on, handed her 
 from time to time the instruments and aids she needed, 
 
ST. ELMO. 103 
 
 and then, when satisfied that the intellect. lal gymnastics 
 had properly trained and developed her, he invited her — 
 where he felt assured the spirit of the age would inevitably 
 drive her — to the great Pythian games of speculation, 
 where the lordly intellects of the nineteenth century gather 
 to test their ratiocinative skill, and bear off the crown of 
 bay on the point of a syllogism or the wings of an auda- 
 cious hypothesis. 
 
 Thus immersed in study, weeks, months, and years glided 
 by, bearing her young life swiftly across the Enna meads 
 of girlhood, nearer and nearer to the portals of that mystic 
 temple of womanhood, on whose fair fretted shrine was to 
 be offered a heart either consumed by the baleful fires of 
 Baal, or purified and consecrated by the Shekiuah, promised 
 through Messiah. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 TJRING the first year of Mr. Murray's absence, 
 his hrief letters to his mother were written at 
 long intervals ; in the second, they were rarer 
 and briefer still ; but toward the close of the 
 third he wrote more frequently, and announced his inten- 
 tion of revisiting Egypt before his return to the land of his 
 birth. Although no allusion was ever made to Edna, Mrs. 
 Murray sometimes read aloud descriptions of beautiful sce- 
 nery, written now among the scoria? of Mauna Roa or 
 Mauna Kea, and now from the pinnacle of Mount Ophir, 
 whence, through waving forests of nutmeg and clove, 
 flashed the blue waters of the Indian Ocean, or the silver 
 ripples of Malacca ; and, on such occasions, the orphan lis- 
 tened eagerly, entranced by the tropical luxuriance and 
 grandeur of his imagery, by his gorgeous word-painting, 
 which to her charmed ears seemed scarcely inferior to the 
 wonderful pen-portraits of Ruskin. . Those letters seemed 
 flecked with the purple and gold, the amber and rose, the 
 opaline and beryline tints, of which he spoke in telling 
 the glories of Polynesian and Malaysian skies, and the 
 matchless verdure and floral splendors of their serene spicy 
 dells. For many days after the receipt of each, Mrs. Mur- 
 ray was graver and sadder, but the spectre that had dis- 
 quieted Edna was thoroughly exorcised, and. only when the 
 cold touch of the golden key startled her was she conscious 
 of a vague dread of some far-off but slowly and surely ap- 
 proaching evil. In the fourth year of her pupilage she was 
 
ST. ELMO. 1()5 
 
 possessed by an unconquerable desire to read the Ta.:mid, 
 and in ordei to penetrate the mysteries and seize the trea- 
 sures hidden in that exhaustless mine of Oriental myths, 
 legends, and symbolisms, she prevailed upon Mr. Hammond 
 to teach her Hebrew and the rudiments of Chaldee. Very 
 reluctantly and disapprovingly be consented, and subse- 
 quently informed her that, as he had another pupil who 
 was also commencing Hebrew, he would class them, and 
 hear their recitations together. This new student was 
 Mr. Gordon Leigh, a lawyer in the town, and a gentleman 
 of wealth and high social position. Although quite young, 
 he gave promise of eminence in his profession, and was a 
 great favorite of the minister, who pronounced him the 
 most upright and exemplary young man of his acquaint- 
 ance. Edna had seen him several times at Mrs. Murray's 
 dinners, but while she thought him exceedingly handsome, 
 polite, and agreeable, she regarded him as a stranger, until 
 the lessons at the Parsonage brought them every two days 
 around the little table in the study. They began the lan- 
 guage simultaneously ; but Edna, knowing the nattering es- 
 timation in which he was held, could not resist the tempta- 
 tion to measure her intellect with his, and soon threatened 
 to outrun him in the Talmud race. Piqued pride and a 
 manly resolution to conquer spurred him on, and the ven- 
 erable instructor looked on and laughed at the generous 
 emulation thus excited. He saw an earnest friendship daily 
 strengthening between the rivals, and knew that in Gordon 
 Leigh's magnanimous nature there was no element which 
 could cause an objection to the companionship to which he 
 had paved the way. 
 
 Fdut months after the commencement of the new study, 
 Edna rose at daylight to complete some exercises, which 
 she had neglected to write out on the previous evening, 
 and as soon as she concluded the task, went down stairs to 
 gather the flowers, It was the cloudless morning of her 
 seventeenth birthday and as she stood clipping geraniums 
 
106 • ST. ELjJO. 
 
 and jasmine and verbena, memory flew back to i-ae tender 
 years in which the grisly blacksmith had watched hei career 
 with such fond pride and loving words of encouragement, 
 and painted the white-haired old man smoking on the porch 
 that fronted Lookout, while from his lips, tremulous with 
 a tender smile, seemed to float the last words he had 
 spoken to her on that calm afternoon when, in the fiery 
 light of a dying day, he was gathered to his forefathers : 
 
 " You will make me proud of you, my little Pearl, when 
 you are smart enough to teach a school and take care of me, 
 for I shall be too old to work by that time." 
 
 Now, after the .lapse of years, when her educational 
 course was almost finished, she recalled every word and 
 look and gesture ; even the thrill of horror that shook her 
 limbs when she kissed the lips that death had sealed an 
 hour before. Mournfully vivid was her recollection of her 
 tenth birthday, for then he had bought her a blue ribbon 
 for her hair, and a little china cup and saucer; and now 
 tears sprang to her eyes as she murmured: "I have stud- 
 ied hard, and the triumph is at hand, but I have nobody to 
 be proud of me now! Ah Grandpa! if you could only 
 come back to me, your little Pearl ! It is so desolate to be 
 alone in this great world ; so hard to have to know that 
 nobody cares specially whether I live or die, whether I 
 succeed or fail ignominiously. I have only myself to live 
 for ; only my own heart and will to sustain and stimulate 
 me." 
 
 Through the fringy acacias that waved their long hair 
 across the hothouse windows, the golden sunshine flickered 
 over the graceful, rounded, lithe figure of the orphan — over 
 the fair young face Avith its delicate cameo features, warm, 
 healthful coloring, and brave, hopeful expression. Pour 
 years had developed the pretty, sad-eyed child into a lovely 
 woman, with a pure heart filled with humble, unostentatious 
 piety, and a clear, vigorous intellect inured to study, and am- 
 bitious of every honorable eminence within the grasp of true 
 womanhood. 
 
ST. ELMO. 107 
 
 To-day, .ife stretched before her like the untried universe 
 spread out to Phaeton's wondering vision, as he stood in the 
 dazzling palace of the sun, extending his eager hands for 
 the reins of the immortal car, aspiring to light the world, and, 
 until scathed by fatal experience, utterly incapable of appre- 
 ciating the perils and sufferings that awaited his daring 
 scheme. According to the granitic and crystal oracles of 
 geology, Rosacea? flushed, rouged the wrinkled face of this 
 sibylline earth before the advent of man, the garden-tender 
 and keeper ; and thus for untold and possibly unimagined 
 centuries, fresh pearly rose-buds have opened each year, at 
 the magic breath of spring, expanded into bloom and sym- 
 metry perfect as Sharon's proverb ; and while the dew still 
 glistened and the perfume rose like incense, ere the noon 
 of their brief reign, have blackened and crumbled as the 
 worm gnawed its way, or have blanched and shivered and 
 died in the fierce storms that swept over their blushing but 
 stately heads, and bowed them for ever. If earth keeps 
 not good faith with her sinless floral children, how dare 
 frail, erring man hope or demand that his fleeting June-day 
 existence should be shrouded by no clouds, scorched by no 
 lightnings, overtaken by no cold shades of early night 9 
 But the gilding glamour of childlike hope softens and 
 shields from view the rough inequalities and murderous 
 quicksands of futurity, mellowing all, like the silvery lustre 
 of Kensett's " Ullswater," or the rich purple haze that 
 brims far-off yawning chasms, and tenderly tapestries the 
 bleak, bald crags that pile themselves up into vast mountain 
 chains, with huge shining shrines, draped with crystal palls 
 of snow. Edna had endeavored to realize and remember 
 what her Bible first taught her, and what moralists of all 
 creeds, climes, and ages, had reiterated — that human life 
 was at best but " vanity and vexation of spirit," that " man 
 is born to trouble as the sparks fly upward ;" yet as she 
 stood on the line, narrow and thin as Al-Sirat, that divides 
 girlhood, and womanhood, all seemed to her fresh, pure 
 
108 ST. ELMO. 
 
 heart as inviting and bewitching as the magnificent p^iKrrt 
 ma upon which enraptured lotophagi gazed from the an- 
 cient acropolis of Cyrene. 
 
 As Edna turned to leave the hothouse, the ring of horse's 
 hoofs on the rocky walk attracted her attention, and, a 
 moment after, Mr. Leigh gave his horse to the gardener, 
 and came to meet her. 
 
 " Good morning, Miss Edna. As I am bearer of dis- 
 patches from my sister to Mrs. Murray, I have invited 
 myself to breakfast with you." 
 
 " You are an earlier riser than I had supposed, Mr. Leigh, 
 from your lamentations over your exercises." 
 
 " I do not deny that I love my morning nap, and gener- 
 rally indulge myself; for, like Sydney Smith, ' I can easily 
 make up my mind to rise early ; but I can not make up 
 my body.' In one respect I certainly claim equality with 
 Thorwaldsen, my 'talent for sleeping' is inferior' neither to 
 his nor Goethe's. Do you know that we are both to have a 
 holiday to-day V" 
 
 " No, sir ; upon what score ?" 
 
 " It happens to be my birthday as well as yours, and as 
 my sister, Mrs. Inge, gives a party to-night in honor of the 
 event, I have come to insist that my classmate shall enjoy 
 the same reprieve that I promise niyself. Mrs. Inge com- 
 missioned me to insure your presence at her party." 
 
 "Thank you; but I never go out to parties." 
 
 " But bad precedents must not guide you any longer. Ii 
 you persist in staying at home, I shall not enjoy the evening, 
 for in every dance I shall fancy my vis-a-vis your spectre, 
 with an exercise in one hand and a Hebrew grammar in 
 the other. A propos ! Mr. Hammond told me to say that 
 he would not expect you to-day, but would meet you to- 
 night at Mrs. Inge's. You need not trouble yourself to 
 decline, for I shall arrange matters with Mrs. Murray. In 
 honor of my birthday will you not give me a sprig of some- 
 thing sweet from your basket ?" 
 
ST. ELMO. 109 
 
 They sat clown on the steps of the dining-room, and Edna 
 selected some delicate oxalis cups and nutmeg geranium 
 leaves, which she tied up, and handed to her companion. 
 
 Fastening them in the button-hole of his coat, he drew 4 
 small box from his pocket, and said : 
 
 " I noticed last week, when Mr. Hammond was explaining 
 the Basilidian tenets, you manifested some curiosity con 
 cerning their amulets and mythical stones. Many years 
 ago, while an uncle of mine was missionary in Arabia, he 
 saved the life of a son of a wealthy sheik, and received 
 from him, in token of his gratitude, a curious ring, which 
 tradition said once belonged to a caliph, and had been 
 found near the ruins of Chilminar. The ring was bequeathed 
 to me, and is probably the best authenticated antique in 
 this country. Presto ! we are in Bagdad ! in the blessed 
 reign — 
 
 f ... in the golden prime 
 Of good Haroun Alraschid !' i 
 
 I am versed in neither Cufic nor Neskhi lore, but the 
 characters engraved on this ring are said to belong to the 
 former dialect, and to mean ' Peace be with thee,' which is, 
 and I believe has been, from time immemorial, the national 
 salutation of the Arabs." 
 
 He unwound the cotton that enveloped the gem, and held 
 it before Edna's eyes. 
 
 A broad band of dusky tarnished gold was surmounted 
 by a large, crescent-shaped emerald, set with beautiftd 
 pearls, and underneath the Arabic inscription was engraved 
 a ram's head, bearing on one horn a small crescent, on the 
 other a star. 
 
 As Edna bent forward to examine it Mr. Leigh continued : 
 " I do not quite comprehend the symbolism of the ram's 
 head and the star ; the crescent is clear enough." 
 
 " I think I can guess the meaning." Edna's eyes kindled, 
 "Tell me your conjecture; my own does not satisfy me, 
 
HO ST. ELMO. 
 
 as the Arabic love of mutton is the only solution afc which 
 I hare arrived." 
 
 " O Mr. Leigh ! look at it and think a moment." 
 
 " Well, I have looked at it and thought a great deal, and 
 I tell you mutton-broth sherbet is the only idea suggested to 
 my mind. You need not look so shocked, for, when cooled 
 with the snows of Caucasus, I am told it makes a beverage 
 fit for Greek gods." 
 
 " Think of the second chapter of St. Luke." 
 
 He pondered a moment, and answered gravely : 
 
 " I am sorry to say that I do not remember that particu- 
 lar chapter well enough to appreciate your clew." 
 
 She hesitated, and the color deepened on her cheek aa 
 she repeated, in a low voice : 
 
 " ' And there were in the same country shepherds abid- 
 ing in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. 
 And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the 
 glory of the Lord shone round about them. And suddenly 
 there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host 
 praising God, and saying, Glory to God in the highest, 
 and on earth peace, good will toward men.' 
 
 " Mr. Leigh, the star on the ram's hom may be the Star 
 of Bethlehem that shone over the manger, and the Arabic 
 inscription is certainly the salutation of the angel to the 
 shepherds. ' Peace, good will toward men,' says St. Luke ; 
 ' Peace be with thee,' said Islamism:" 
 
 " Your solution seems plausible, but, pardon me, is totally 
 inadmissible, from the fact that it blends crescent and 
 cross, and ignores antagonisms that deluged centuries with 
 blood." 
 
 " You forget, Mr. Leigh, that Mohammedanism is noth- 
 ing but a hu<xe eclecticism, and that its founder stole its 
 elements from surrounding systems. The symbolism of the 
 crescent he took from the mysteries of Isis and Astarte ' 
 the ethical code of Christ he engrafted on the monotheism 
 of Judasism ; his typical forms are drawn from the Old Tes- 
 
ST. ELMO. HI 
 
 Lament or the more modern Mishna; and his j.reteni.ed mir- 
 acles are mere repetitions of the wonders performed by our 
 Saviour — for instance, the basket of dates, the roasted lamb, 
 the loaf of barley bread, in the siege of Medina. Even the 
 Moslem Jehennam is a palpable imitation of the Hebrew 
 Gehenna. Beside, sir, you know that Sabeanism reigned in 
 Arabia just before the advent of Mohammed, and if you 
 refuse to believe that the Star of Bethlehem was signified 
 by this one shining here on the ram's horn, at least you 
 must admit that it refers to stars studied by the shepherds 
 who watched their flocks on the Chaldean plains. In a 
 cabinet of coins and medals, belonging to Mr. Murray, 1 
 have examined one of silver, representing Astaroth, with 
 the head of a woman adorned with horns and a crescent, 
 and another of brass, containing an image of Baal — a human 
 face on the head of an ox, with the horns surrounded by stars. 
 However, I am very ignorant of these things, and you must 
 refer the riddle of the ring to some one more astute and 
 learned in such matters than your humble ' yokefellow ' in 
 Hebrew. ' Peace be with thee.' " 
 
 " I repeat ' Peace be with thee,' during the new year on 
 which we are both entering, and, as you have at least at- 
 tempted to read the riddle, let me beg that you will do me 
 the honor to accept and wear the ring in memory of our 
 friendship and our student life." 
 
 He took her hand, and would have placed the ring on her 
 finger, but she resisted. 
 
 " Thank you, Mr. Leigh, I appreciate the honor, but in- 
 deed you must excuse me, I can not accept the ring." 
 
 " Why not, Miss Edna ?" 
 
 " In the first place, because it is very valuable ar. d bea 1- 
 tiful, and I am not willing to deprive you of it; in the 
 second, I do not think it proper to accept presents from — 
 any one but relatives or dear friends." 
 
 " I thought we were dear friends ? Why can we not be 
 suck ?" 
 
112 ST. ELMO. 
 
 At this moment, Mrs. Murray came into the dining 
 room, and as she looked at the two sitting there in the early 
 sunshine, with the basket of flowers between them ; as she 
 marked the heightened color and embarrassed expression 
 on one fair, sweet face, and the eager pleading written on 
 the other, so full of manly beauty, so frank and bright and 
 genial, a possible destiny for both flashed before her; and 
 pleased surprise warmed her own countenance as she hur- 
 ried forward. -, 
 
 " Good morning, Gordon. I am very glad to see you. 
 How is Clara ?" 
 
 " Quite well, thank you, and entirely absorbed in prepar- 
 ations for her party, as you will infer from this note, which 
 she charged me to deliver in person, and for which I here 
 pray your most favorable consideration." 
 
 As Mrs. Murray glanced over the note Edna turned to 
 leave the room ; but Mr. Leigh exclaimed : 
 
 " Do not go just yet, I wish Mrs. Murray to decide a mat- 
 ter for me." 
 
 " Well, Gordon, what is it ?" 
 
 " First, do you grant my sister's petition ?" 
 
 " Certainly, I will bring Edna with me to-night, unless 
 she prefers staying at home with her books. You know I 
 let her do pretty much as she pleases." 
 
 " Now then for my little quarrel ! Here is a curious old 
 ring, which she will appreciate more highly than any one 
 else whom I happen to know, and I want her to accept it as a 
 birthday memento from me, but a few minutes ago she re- 
 fused to wear it. Can you not come to my assistance, my 
 dear Mrs. Murray ?" 
 
 She took the ring, examined it, and said, after a pause : 
 
 " I think, Gordon, that she did exactly right ; but I also 
 think that now, with my approval and advice, she need not 
 hesitate to wear it henceforth, as a token of your friend 
 ehip. Edna, hold out your hand, my dear." 
 
 The ring was slipped ob the slender finger, and as she 
 
ST. ELMO. \\$ 
 
 released her hand, Mrs. Murray bent down and kissed her 
 forehead. 
 
 " Seventeen to-day ! My child, I can scarcely believe it ! 
 And you — Gordon ? May I ask how old you are ?" 
 
 " Twenty-five — I gi'ieve to say! You need not tell 
 
 The conversation was interrupted by the ringing of the 
 breakfast bell, and soon after, Mr. Leigh took his departure- 
 Edna felt puzzled and annoyed, and as she looked down 
 at the ring, she thought that instead of " Peace be with 
 thee," the Semitic characters must surely mean, " Disquiet 
 seize thee !" for they had shivered the beautiful calm of 
 her girlish nature, and thrust into her mind ideas unknown 
 until that day. Going to her own room, she opened her 
 books, but ere she could fix her wandering thoughts Mrs. 
 Murray entered. 
 
 " Edna, I came to speak to you about your dress for to- 
 night." 
 
 " Please do not say that you wish me to go, my dear Mrs. 
 Murray, for I dread the very thought." 
 
 " But I must tell you that I insist upon your conforming 
 to the usages of good society. Mrs. Inge belongs to one 
 of the very first families in the State ; at her house you will 
 meet the best people, and you could not possibly make your 
 debut under more favorable circumstances. Beside, it is 
 very unnatural that a young girl should not enjoy parties, 
 and the society of gay young people. You are very unne- 
 cessarily making a recluse of yourself, and I shall not permit 
 you to refuse such an invitation as Mrs. Inge has sent. It 
 would be rude in the extreme." 
 
 " Dear Mrs. Murray, you speak of my debut, as if, like 
 other girls, I had nothing else to do but fit myself for 
 society. These people care nothing for me, and I am as 
 little interested in them. I have no desire to move fot a 
 short time in a circle from wtich my work in life must 
 soon separate me." 
 
114 ST. ELMO. 
 
 " To what work do you allude ?" 
 
 " The support which I must make by teaching. In ii few 
 months I hope to be able to earn all I need, and then " 
 
 " Then it will be quite time enough to determine what 
 necessity demands ; in the mean while, as long as you are 
 in my house you must allow me to judge what is proper 
 for you. Clara Inge is my friend, and I can not allow you 
 tc be rude to her. I have sent the carriage to town for 
 Miss O'Biley, my mantua-maker, and Hagar will make the 
 skirt of your dress. Come into my room and let her take 
 the measure." 
 
 " Thank you for your kind thoughtfulness, but indeed I 
 do not want to go. Please let me stay at home ! You can 
 frame some polite excuse., and Mrs. Inge cares not whether 
 I go or stay. I will write my regrets and " 
 
 " Don't be childish, Edna ; I care whether you go or 
 stay, and that fact should weigh with you much more than 
 Mrs. Inge's wishes, for you are quite right in supposing 
 that it is a matter of indifference to her. Do not keep 
 Hagar waiting." 
 
 Mrs. Murray's brow clouded, and her lips contracted, as 
 was their habit, when any thing displeased her ; conse- 
 quently, after a quick glance, Edna followed her to the 
 room where Hagar was at work. It was the first time the 
 orphan had been invited to a large party, and she shrank 
 from meeting people whose standard of gentility was con- 
 fined to high birth and handsome fortunes. Mrs. Inge came 
 frequently to Le Bocage, but Edna's acquaintance with her 
 was comparatively slight, and in addition to her repug- 
 nance to meeting strangers she dreaded seeing Mr. Leigh 
 again so soon, for she felt that an undefinable barrier had 
 suddenly risen between them ; the frank, fearless freedom 
 of the old friendship at the parsonage table had vanished: 
 She began to wish that she had never studied Hebrew, that 
 she had never heard of Basilides, and that the sheik's ring 
 was back among the ruins of Chilminar. Mrs. Murray saw 
 
8T. ELMO. 115 
 
 her discomposure, but those to take no notice cf ,t, and 
 superintended her toilet that night with almost as much in- 
 terest as if she had been her own daughter. 
 
 During the ride she talked on indifferent subjects, and as 
 they went up to the dressing-room had the satisfaction of 
 seeing that her protegee manifested no trepidation. They 
 arrived rather late, the company had assembled, and the 
 rooms were quite full as Mrs. Murray entered; but Mrs. 
 Inge met them at the threshold, and Mr. Leigh, who seemed 
 on the watch, came forward at the same instant, and offered 
 Edna his arm. 
 
 " Ah Mrs. Murray ! I had almost abandoned the hope 
 of seeing you. Miss Edna, the set is just forming, and we 
 must celebrate our birthday by having the first dance to- 
 gether. Excuse you, indeed ! You presume upon my well- 
 known good nature and generosity, but this evening I am 
 privileged to be selfish." 
 
 As he drew her into the middle of the room she noticed 
 that he wore the flowers she had given him in the morning, 
 and this, in conjunction with the curious scrutiny to which 
 she was subjected, brought a sudden surge of color to her 
 cheeks. The dance commenced, and from one corner of the 
 room Mr. Hammond looked eagerly at his two pupils, con- 
 trasting them with the gay groups that filled the brilliant 
 apartment. 
 
 Edna's slender, graceful figure was robed in white Swiss 
 muslin, with a bertha of rich lace ; and rose-colored ribbons 
 formed the sash, and floated from her shoulders. Her beau- 
 tiful glossy hair was simply coiled in a large roll at the back 
 of the head, and fastened with an ivory comb. Scrutiniz- 
 ing the face lifted toward Mr. Leigh's, while he talked to 
 her, the pastor thought he had never seen a countenance 
 half so eloquent and lovely. Turning his gaze upon her 
 partner, he was compelled to confess that though Gordon 
 Leigh was the handsomest man in the room, no acute ob- 
 server could look at the two and fail to discover that the 
 
116 ST. ELMO. 
 
 blacksmi th's grand-daughter was far superiDr to the petted 
 brother of the aristocratic Mrs. Inge. He was so much in- 
 terested in watching the couple that he did not observe 
 Mrs. Murray's approach until she sat down beside him and 
 whispered : „ 
 
 " Are they not a handsome couple ?" 
 
 " Gordon and Edna ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Indeed they are ! I think that child's face is the most 
 attractive, the most fascinating I ever looked at. There is 
 such a rare combination of intelligence, holiness, strength, 
 and serenity in her countenance ; such a calm, pure light 
 ehining in her splendid eyes ; such a tender, loving look 
 far down in their soft depths." 
 
 " Child ! Why, she is seventeen to-day." 
 
 " No matter, Ellen, to me she will always seem a gentle, 
 clinging, questioning child. I look at her often, when she 
 is intent on her studies, and wonder how long her pure 
 heart will reject the vanities and baubles that engross most 
 women ; how long mere abstract study will continue to 
 charm her ; and I tremble when I think of the future, to 
 which I know she is looking so eagerly. Now, her emo- 
 tional nature sleeps, her heart is at rest — slumbering also ; 
 she is all intellect at present — giving her brain no relaxa- 
 tion. Ah ! if it could always be so. But it will not ! 
 There will come a time, I fear, when her fine mind and 
 pure, warm heart will be arrayed against each other, will 
 battle desperately, and one or the other must be subor- 
 dinated." 
 
 " Gordon seems to admire her very much," said Mrs 
 Murray. 
 
 Mr. Hammond sighed, and a shadow crept over his placid 
 features, as he answered : 
 
 " Do you wonder at it, Ellen ? Can any one know the 
 child well, and fail to admire and love her ?" 
 
 " If he could only forget her obscure birth — if he could 
 
ST. ELMO. 117 
 
 only consent to marry her — what a splendid match it would 
 be for her !" 
 
 " Ellen ! Ellen Murray ! I am surprised at you ! Let 
 me beg of you for her sake, for yours, for all parties con 
 cerned, not to raise your little finger in this matter ; not to 
 utter one word to Edna that might arouse her suspicions ; 
 not to hint to Gordon that you dream such an alliance pos- 
 sible ; for there is more at stake than you imagine " 
 
 He was unable to conclude the sentence, for the dance 
 had ended, and as Edna caught a glimpse of the beloved 
 countenance of her teacher, she drew her fingers from Mr. 
 Leigh's arm, and hastened to the pastor's side, taking his 
 hand between both hers : 
 
 " O sir ! I am glad to see you. I have looked around 
 so often, hoping to catch sight of you. Mrs. Murray, I 
 heard Mrs. Inge asking for you." 
 
 When the lady walked away, Edna glided into the seat 
 next the minister, and continued : 
 
 " I want to talk to you about a change in some of my 
 studies." 
 
 " Wait till to-morrow, my dear. I came here to-night 
 only for a few moments, to gratify Gordon, and now I must 
 slip away." 
 
 " But, sir, I only want to say, that as you objected at 
 the outset to my studying Hebrew, I will not waste any 
 more time on it just now, but take it up again after a while, 
 when I have plenty of leisure. Don't you think that would 
 be the best plan ?'•' 
 
 " My child, are you tired of Hebrew ?" 
 
 " No, sir ; on the contrary, it possesses a singular fasci- 
 nation for me ; but I think, if you are willing, I shall dis- 
 continue it — at least, for the present. I shall take care to 
 forget nothing that I have already learned." 
 
 " You have some special reason for this change, I pre- 
 sume ?" 
 
 She raised her eyes to his, and said frankly : 
 
118 ST. ELMO. 
 
 " Yes, sir, I have." 
 
 " Very well, my dear, do as you like. Good-night." 
 
 " I wish I could go now with you." 
 
 " Why ? I thought you appeared to enjoy your danc€ 
 very much. Edna, look at me." 
 
 She hesitated — then obeyed him, and he saw tears 
 glistening on her long lashes. 
 
 Very quietly the old man drew her arm through his, and 
 led her out on the dim verandah, where only an occasional 
 couple promenaded. 
 
 " Something troubles you, Edna. Will you confide in 
 me ?" 
 
 " I feel as if I were occupying a false position here, 
 and yet I do not see how I can extricate myself without 
 displeasing Mrs. Murray, whom I can not bear to offend— 
 she is so very kind and generous." 
 
 " Explain yourself, my dear." 
 
 " You know that I have not a cent in the world except 
 what Mrs. Murray gives me. I shall have to make my 
 bread by my own work just as soon as you think me com- 
 petent to teach ; and notwithstanding, she thinks I ought 
 to visit and associate as she does with these people, who 
 tolerate me now, simply because they know that while I am 
 under her roof she will exact it of them. To-night, 
 during the dance, I heard two of her fashionable friends 
 criticising and sneering at me ; ridiculing her for ' at- 
 tempting to smuggle that spoiled creature of unknown 
 parentage and doubtless low origin into really first 
 circles.' Other things were said which I can not repeat, 
 that showed me plainly how I am regarded here, and I will 
 not remain in a position which subjects me to such remarks. 
 Mrs. Murray thought it best for me to come ; but it was a 
 mistaken kindness. I thought so before I came — now I 
 have irrefragable proof that I was right in my forebodings." 
 
 " Can you not tell me all that was said ?" 
 
 " I shrink sir, from repeating it, even to you." 
 
ST. JLMO. ] _9 
 
 " Did Mr. Leigh hear it ?" 
 
 " I hope not." 
 
 "My dear child, I am very much pained to earn that 
 you have been so cruelly wounded ; but do not let your 
 mind dwell upon it ; those weak, heartless, giddy people 
 are to be pitied, are beneath your notice. Try to fix your 
 thoughts on nobler themes, and waste no reflection on the 
 idle words of those poor gilded moths of fashion and folly, 
 who are incapable of realizing their own degraded and 
 deplorable condition." 
 
 " I do not care particularly what they think of me, but I 
 am anxious to avoid hearing their comments upon me, and 
 therefore? I am determined to keep as much out of sight as 
 possible. I shall try to do my duty in all things, and 
 poverty is no stigma, thank God ! My grandfather was 
 very poor, but he was noble' and honest, and as courteous as 
 a nobleman ; and I honor his dear, dear memory as ten- 
 derly as if he had been reared in a palace. I am not 
 ashamed of my parentage, for my father was as honest and 
 industrious as he was poor, and my mother was as gentle 
 and good as she was beautiful." 
 
 There was no faltering in the sweet voice, and no bitter- 
 ness poisoning it. Mr. Hammond could not see the face, 
 but the tone indexed all, and he was satisfied. 
 
 " I am glad, my dear little Edna, that you look at the 
 truth so bravely, and give no more importance to this gos- 
 sip than your future peace of mind demands. If you have 
 any difficulty in convincing Mrs. Murray of the correctness 
 of your views, let me know, and I will speak to her on the 
 subject. Good night ! May God watch over and bless 
 yout" 
 
 When the orphan reentered the parlor, Mrs. Inge presented 
 her to several gentlemen who had requested an introduc- 
 tion ; and though her heart was heavy, and her cheeks 
 burned painfully, she exerted herself, and danced and talked 
 constantly, until Mrs. Murray announced herself ready to 
 depart. 
 
120 s2 - ELMO. 
 
 Joyfully Edna ran tip-stairs for her wrappings,, bade 
 adieu to her hostess, who complimented her on the sensa- 
 tion her beauty had created ; and felt relieved and compa- 
 ratively happy when the carriage-door closed and she found 
 herself alone with her benefactress. 
 
 " Well, Eclna, notwithstanding your repugnance to going, 
 you acquitted yourself admirably, and seemed to have a 
 delightful time." 
 
 " I thank you, ma'am, for doing all in your power to 
 make the evening agreeable to me. I think your kind de- 
 sire to see me enjoy the party made me happier than every 
 thing else." 
 
 Gratefully she drew Mrs. Murray's hand to her lips, and 
 the latter little dreamed that at that instant tears were roll- 
 ing swiftly over the flushed face, while the words of the 
 conversation which she had overheard rang mockingly in 
 her ears : 
 
 " Mrs. Murray and even Mr. Hammond are scheming to 
 make a match between her and Gordon Leigh. Studying 
 Hebrew indeed ! A likely story ! She had better go back 
 to her wash-tub and spinning-wheel ! Much Hebrew she 
 will learn ! Her eyes are set on Gordon's fortune, and Mrs. 
 Murray is silly enough to think he will step into the trap. 
 She will have to bait it with something better than Hebrew 
 and black eyes, or she will miss her game. Gordon will 
 make a fool of her, I dare say, for, like all other young 
 men, he can be flattered into paying her some little atten- 
 tion at first. I am surprised at Mrs. Inge to countenance 
 the girl at all." 
 
 Such was the orphan's initiation into the charmed circle 
 of fashionable society ; such her welcome to le beau monde 
 
 As she laid her head on her pillow, she could not avoid 
 exclaiming : 
 
 " Heaven save me from such aristocrats ! and commit me 
 rather to the horny but outstretched hands, the brawny 
 arms, the untutored minds, the simple but kindly-throbbing 
 hearts of proletairt !" 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 |HEN Mr. Hammond mentioned Edna's determi- 
 nation to discontinue Hebrew, Mr. Leigh ex- 
 pressed no surprise, asked no explanation, but the 
 minister noticed that he bit his lip, and beat a 
 hurried tattoo with the heel of his boot on the stony hearth ; 
 and as he studiously avoided all allusion to her, he felt as- 
 sured that the conversation which she had overheard must 
 have reached the ears of her partner also, and supplied him 
 with a satisfactory solution of her change of purpose. For 
 several weeks Edna saw nothing of her quondam school- 
 mate ; and fixing her thoughts more firmly than ever on her 
 studies, the painful recollection of the birthday fHe was 
 slowly fading from her mind, when one morning, as she 
 was returning from the parsonage, Mr. Leigh joined her, 
 and asked permission to attend her home. The sound of 
 his voice, the touch of his hand, brought back all the em- 
 barrassment and constraint, and called up the flush of con- 
 fusion so often attributed to other sources than that from 
 which it really springs. 
 
 After a few commonplace remarks, he asked : 
 
 " When is Mr. Murray coming home ?" 
 
 " I have no idea. Even his mother is ignorant of hii» 
 plans." 
 
 " How long has he been absent ?" 
 
 " Four years to-day." 
 
 " Indeed ! so long ? Where is he f * 
 
122 ST. ELMO. 
 
 " I believe his last letter was written at Edfu, and lie said 
 nothing about returning.'* 
 
 " What do you think of his singular oharacter ?" 
 
 " I know almost nothing about him, as I was too young 
 when I saw him to form an estimate of him." 
 
 " Do you not correspond ?" 
 
 Edna looked up with unfeigned astonishment, and could 
 not avoid smiling at the inquiry. 
 
 " Certainly not." 
 
 A short silence followed, and then Mr. Leigh said : 
 
 " Do you not frequently ride on horseback ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " Will you permit me to accompany you to-morrow after- 
 noon ?" 
 
 " I have promised to make a visit with Mr. Hammond." 
 
 " To-morrow morning then, before breakfast ?" 
 
 She hesitated — the blush deepened, and after a brief 
 struggl e.she said hurriedly : 
 
 " riease excuse me, Mr. Leigh ; I prefer to ride alone." 
 
 He bowed, and was silent for a minute, but she saw a 
 smile lurking about the corners of his handsome mouth, 
 threatening to run riot over his features. 
 
 "By the by, Miss Edna, I am coming to-night to ask 
 your assistance in a Chaldee quandary. Foi several days I 
 have been engaged in a controversy with Mi . Hammond on 
 the old battle-field of ethnology, and, in order to establish 
 my position of diversity of origin, have been comparing the 
 Septuagint with some passages from the Talmud. I heard 
 you say that there was a Rabbinical Targum in the library 
 at Le Bocage, and I must beg you to examine it for me, and 
 ascertain whether it contains any comments on the first 
 chapter of Genesis. Somewhere in my most desultory 
 reading I have seen it stated that in some of those early 
 Targums was the declaration, that ' God originally created 
 men red, white, and black' Mr. Hammond is charitable 
 enough to say that I must have smoked an extra cigar, and 
 
ST. ELMO. 123 
 
 dreamed the predicate I am so anxious to authenticate. 
 Will you oblige me by searching for the passage ?" 
 
 " Certainly, Mr. Leigh, with great pleasure ; though per- 
 haps you would prefer to take the book and look through it 
 yourself? My knowledge of Chaldee is very limited." 
 
 " Pardon me ! my mental vis inertias vetoes the bare sug- 
 gestion. I study by proxy whenever an opportunity offers, 
 for laziness is the only hereditary taint in the Leigh blood." 
 
 " As I am very much interested in this ethnological ques- 
 tion, I shall enter into the search with great eagerness." 
 
 " Thank you. Do you take the unity or diversity side of 
 the discussion ?" 
 
 Her merry laugh rang out through the forest that border- 
 ed the road. 
 
 " O Mr. Leigh ! what a ridiculous question ! I do not 
 presume to take any side, for I do not pretend to understand 
 or appreciate all the arguments advanced ; but I am anxious 
 to acquaint myself with the bearings of the controversy. 
 The idea of my 'taking sides' on a subject which gray- 
 haired savans have spent their laborious lives in striving to 
 elucidate seems extremely ludicrous." 
 
 " Still, you are entitled to an idea, either pro or con, even 
 at the outset." 
 
 " I have an idea that neither you nor I know any thing 
 about the matter ; and the per saltum plan of ' taking sides' 
 will only add the prop of pi-ejudice to my ignorance. If, 
 with all his erudition, Mr. Hammond still abstains from 
 dogmatizing on this subject, I can well afford to hold t&f 
 crude opinions in abeyance. I must stop here, Mr. Leigh, 
 at Mrs. Carter's, on an errand for Mrs. Murray. Good 
 morning, sir ; I will hunt the passage you require." 
 
 " How have I offended you, Miss Edua ?" 
 
 He took her hand and detained her. 
 
 " I am not offended, Mr. Leigh," and she drew back. 
 
 " "Why do you dismiss me in such a cold unfriendly 
 way ?" 
 
124: ST. ELMO. 
 
 "If I sometimes appear rude, pardon my unfortanate 
 manner, and believe that it results from no unfriendliness." 
 
 " You will be at home this evening ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir, unless something very unusual occurs." 
 
 They parted, and during the remainder of the walk Edna 
 could think of nothing but the revelation written in Gordon 
 Leigh's eyes ; the immemorial, yet ever new and startling 
 truth, that opened a new vista in life, that told her she was 
 no longer an isolated child, but a woman, regnant over the 
 generous heart of one of the pets of society. 
 
 She saw that he intended her to believe he loved her, and 
 suspicious as gossips had made her with reference to his con- 
 duct, she could not suppose he was guilty of heartless and 
 contemptible trifling. She trusted his honor; yet the dis- 
 covery of his affection brought a sensation of regret — of 
 vague self-reproach, and she felt that in future he would 
 prove a source of endless disquiet. Hitherto she had 
 enjoyed his society, henceforth she felt that she must 
 shun it. 
 
 She endeavored to banish the recollection of that strange 
 expression in his generally laughing eyes, and bent over the 
 Targuni, hoping to cheat her thoughts into other channels ; 
 but the face would not " down at her bidding," and as the 
 day drew near its close she grew nervous and restless. 
 
 The chandelier had been lighted, and Mrs. Murray was 
 standing at the window of the sitting-room, watching for 
 the return of a servant whom she had sent to the post-office, 
 when Edna said : 
 
 " I believe Mr. Leigh is coming here to tea ; he told me so 
 this morning." 
 
 " Where did you see him ?" 
 
 "He walked with me as far as Mrs. Carter's gate, and 
 asked me to look out a reference which he thought I might 
 find in one of Mr. Murray's books." 
 
 Mrs. Murray smiled, and said : 
 
 H Do you intend to receive him in that calico dress ?" 
 
ST. ELMO. 125 
 
 " "W hy not ? I am sure it looks very nicely ; it is per- 
 fectly new, and fits me well." 
 
 : ' /Vnd is very suitable to wear to the Parsonage, but not 
 quite appropriate when Gordon Leigh takes tea here. You 
 will oblige me by changing your dress and rearranging 
 your hair, which is twisted too loosely." 
 
 When she reentered the room, a half-hour later, Mrs. Mur- 
 ray leaned against the mantelpiece, with an open letter iD 
 her hand and dreary disappointment printed on her face. 
 
 " I hope you have no unpleasant tidings from Mr. Murray 
 May I ask why you seem so much depressed ?" 
 
 The mother's features twitched painfully as she restored 
 the letter to its envelope, and answered : 
 
 " My son's letter is dated Philoe, just two months ago, 
 and he says he intended starting next day to the interior 
 of Persia. He says, too, that he did not expect to remain 
 away so long, but finds that he will probably be in Central 
 Asia for another year. The only comforting thing in the 
 letter is the assurance that he weighs more, and is in better 
 health, than when he left home." 
 
 The rino-ino- of the door-bell announced Mr. Leigh's arri- 
 val, and as she led the way to the parlor, Mrs. Murray 
 hastily fastened a drooping spray of coral berries in Edna's 
 hair. 
 
 Before tea was ended, other visitors came in, and the 
 orphan found relief from her confusion in the general con- 
 versation. 
 
 While Dr. Rodney, the family physician, was talking to 
 her about some discoveries of Ehrenberg, concerning which 
 she was very curious, Mr. Leigh engrossed Mrs. Murray's 
 attention, and for some time their conversation was exceed- 
 ingly earnest ; then the latter rose and approached the sofa 
 where Edna sat, saying gravely : 
 
 " Edna, give me this seat, 1 want to have a little chat 
 with the doctor; a:id, by the way, my dear, I believe Mr. 
 Leigh is waiting for you to show him some book you prom- 
 
120 ST. ELMO. 
 
 ised to find for him. Go into the library — there is a goo J 
 fire there." 
 
 The room was tempting indeed to students, and as the 
 two sat down before the glowing grate, and Mr. Leigh 
 glanced at the warm, rich curtains sweeping from ceiling 
 to carpet, the black-walnut bookcases girding the walls on 
 all sides, and the sentinel bronze busts keeping watch over 
 the musty tomes within, he rubbed his fingers and ex- 
 claimed : 
 
 " Certainly this is the most delightful library in the 
 world, and offers a premium for recluse life and studious 
 habits. How incomprehensible it is that Murray should 
 prefer to pass his years roaming over deserts and wander- 
 ing about neglected, comfortless khans, when he might 
 spend them in such an elysium as this ! The man must be 
 demented ! How do you explain the mystery ?" 
 
 " Chacun a son goat ! I consider it none of my business, 
 and as I suppose he is the best judge of what contributes 
 to his happiness, I do not meddle with the mystery." 
 
 " Poor Murray ! his wretched disposition is a great curse. 
 I pity him most sincerely." 
 
 " From what I remember of him, I am afraid he would 
 not thank you for your pity, or admit that he needed or 
 merited it. Here is the Targum, Mr. Leigh, and here is 
 the very passage you want." « 
 
 She opened an ancient Chaldee ks., and spreading it on 
 the library table, they examined it together, spelling out 
 the words, and turning frequently to a dictionary which 
 lay near. Neither knew much about the language ; now 
 and then they differed in the interpretation, and more than 
 once Edna referred to the rules of her grammar, to estab- 
 lish the construction of the sentences. , 
 
 Engrossed in the translation, she forgot all her apprehen- 
 sions of the morning, and the old ease of manner came 
 back. Her eyes met his fearlessly, her smile greeted him 
 cheerily as in the early months of their acquaintance ; anc! 
 
ST. ELMO. 12 i 
 
 while she bent over the pages she was deciphering, his eye* 
 dwelt on her beaming countenance with u fond, tender look, 
 that most girls of her age would have found it hard to resist, 
 and pleasant to recall in after days. 
 
 Neither suspected that an hour had passed, until Dr, 
 Rodney peeped into the room and called them back to the 
 parlor, to make up a game of whist. 
 
 It was quite late when Mr. Leigh rose to say good-night ; 
 and as he drew on his gloves he looked earnestly at Edna, 
 and said : 
 
 " I am coming again in a day or two, to show you some 
 plans I have drawn for a new house which I intend to build 
 before long. Clara differs with me about the arrangement 
 of some columns and arches, and I shall claim you and Mrs. 
 Murray for my allies in this architectural war." 
 
 The orphan was silent, but the lady of the house replied 
 promptly : 
 
 "Yes, come as often as you can, Gordon, and cheer us 
 up ; for it is terribly dull here without St. Elmo." 
 
 " Suppose you repudiate that incorrigible Vandal and 
 adopt me in his place ? I would prove a model son." 
 
 " Very well. I shall acquaint him with your proposition, 
 and threaten an immediate compliance with it if he does 
 not come home soon." 
 
 Mrs. Murray rang the bell for the servant to lock up the 
 house, and said sotto voce : 
 
 "What a noble fellow Gordon is ! If I had a daughter 
 I would select him for her husband. Where are you going, 
 Edna ?" 
 
 " I left a ms. on the library table, and as it is very rare 
 and valuable, I want to replace it in the glass box where it 
 belongs before I go to sleep." 
 
 Lighting a candle, she lifted the heavy Targum, and 
 slowly approached the suite of rooms, which she was now in 
 the habit of visiting almost daily. 
 
 Earlier in the day she had bolted the door, but left the 
 
128 ST ELMO. 
 
 key in the lock, expecting to bring the Targum tuck as 
 soon as she had shown Mr. Leigh the controverted passage. 
 Now, as she crossed the rotunda, an unexpected sound, aa 
 of a chair sliding on the marble floor, seemed to issue from 
 the inner room, and she paused to listen. Under the flare 
 of the candle the vindictive face of Siva, and the hooded 
 viper twined about his arm, looked more hideous than ever, 
 warning her not to approach, yet all was silent, save the 
 tinkling of a bell far down in the park, where the sheep 
 clustered under the cedars. Opening the door, which was 
 ajar, she entered, held the light high over her head, and 
 peered a little nervously around the room ; but here, too, 
 all was quiet as the grave, and quite as dreary, and the 
 only moving thing seemed her shadow, that flitted slightly 
 as the candle-light flickered over the cold, gleaming white 
 tiles. The carpets and curtains — even the rich silk hang- 
 ings of the arch — were all packed away, and Edna shivered 
 as she looked through both rooms, satisfied herself that she 
 had mistaken the source of the sound, and opened the box 
 where the MBS. were kept. 
 
 At sight of them her mind reverted to the theme she 
 had been investigating, and happening to remember the 
 importance attached by ethnologists to the early Coptic 
 inscriptions, she took from the book-shelves a volume con- 
 taining copies of many of these characters, and drawings 
 of the triumphal processions carved on granite, and repre- 
 senting the captives of various nations torn from their 
 homes to swell the pompous retinue of some barbaric 
 Rhamses or Sesostris. 
 
 Drifting back over the gray, waveless, tideless sea of 
 centuries, she stood, in imagination, upon the steps of the 
 Serapeum at Memphis ; and when the wild chant of the 
 priests had died away under the huge propyla?um, she lis- 
 tened to the sighing of the tamarinds and cassias, and the 
 low babble of the sacred Nile, as it rocked the lotus-leaves, 
 under the glowing purple sky, whence a full moon flooded 
 
ST. ELMO. 129 
 
 the ancient city with light, and kindled like a beac on the 
 vast placid face of the Sphinx — rising solemn and lonely 
 and weird from its desert lair — and staring blankly, hope- 
 lessly across arid, yellow sands at the dim colossi of old 
 Misraim. 
 
 Following the sinuous stream of Coptic civilization to its 
 inexplicable source in the date-groves of Meroe, the girl's 
 thoughts were borne away to the Golden Fountain of the 
 Sun, where Ammon's black doves fluttered and cooed, over 
 the shining altars and amid the mystic symbols of the mai°- 
 velous friezes. 
 
 As Edna bent over the drawings in the book, oblivious 
 for a time of every thing else, she suddenly became aware 
 of the presence of some one in the room, for though perfect 
 stillness reigned, there was a consciousness of companion- 
 ship, of the proximity of some human being, and with a 
 start she looked up, expecting to meet a pair of eyes fast- 
 ened upon her. But no living thing confronted her — the 
 tall, bent figure of the Cimbri Prophetess gleamed ghostly 
 white upon the wall, and the bright blue augurous eyes 
 seemed to count the dripping blood-drops ; and the un- 
 broken, solemn silence of night brooded over all things, 
 hushing even the chime of sheep-bells, that had died away 
 among the elm arches. Knowing that no superstitious 
 terrors had ever seized her heretofore, the young student 
 rose, took up the candle, and proceeded to search the two 
 rooms, but as unsuccessfully as before. 
 
 "There certainly is somebody here, but I can not find out 
 where." 
 
 These words were uttered aloud, and the echo of her 
 own voice seemed sepulchral ; then the chill silence again 
 fell upon her. She smiled at her own folly, and thought 
 her imagination had been unduly excited by the pictures 
 she had been examining, and that the nervous shiver that 
 crept over her was the result of the cold. Just then the 
 car.dle-light flashed over the black marble statuette, grin- 
 
130 ST. ELMO. 
 
 ning horribly as it kept guard over the Taj Mahal. Edus 
 walked up to it, placed the candle on the slab that support 
 ed the tomb, and, stooping, scrutinized the lock. A spider 
 had ensconced himself in the golden receptacle, and spun a 
 fine web across the front of the temple, and Edna swept 
 the airy drapery away, and tried to drive the little weaver 
 from his den ; but he shrank further and further, and finally 
 she took the key from her pocket, and put it far enough 
 into the opening to eject the intruder, who slung himself 
 down one of the silken threads, and crawled sullenly out 
 of sight. Withdrawing the key, she toyed with it, and 
 glanced curiously at the mausoleum. Taking her handker- 
 chief, she carefully brushed off the cobwebs that festooned 
 the minarets, and murmured that fragment of Persian 
 poetry which she once heard the absent master repeat tc 
 his mother, and which she had found, only a few days 
 before, quoted by an Eastern traveller : " The spider hath 
 woven his web in the imperial palaces ; and the owl hath 
 sung her watch-song on the towers of Afrasiab." 
 
 " It is exactly four years to-night since Mr. Murray gave 
 me this key, but he charged me not to open the Taj unless 
 I had reason to believe that he was dead. His letter states 
 that he is alive and well ; consequently, the time has not 
 come for me to unseal the mystery. It is strange that he 
 trusted me with this secret ; strange that he, who doubts all 
 of his race, could trust a child of whom he really knew so 
 little. Certainly it must have been a singular freak which 
 gave this affair into my keeping, but at least I will not be- 
 tray the confidence he reposed in me. With the contents 
 of that vault I can have no concern, and yet I wish the key 
 was safely back in his hands ; it annoys me to conceal it, 
 and I feel all the while as if I were deceiving his mother." 
 
 These words were uttered half unconsciously as she fin- 
 gered the key, and for a few seconds she stood there, think- 
 ing of the master of the house, wondering what luckless 
 uifluence had so «arly blackened and distorted his life, and 
 
ST. ELMO. 13} 
 
 whether he would probably return to Le Bocage before she 
 left it to go out and carve her fortune in the world's nois^ 
 quarry. The light danced over her countenance and form, 
 showing the rich folds of her crimson merino dress, with 
 the gossamer lace surrounding her white throat and dim- 
 pled wrists ; and it seemed to linger caressingly on the 
 shining mass of black hair, on the beautiful, polished fore- 
 head, the firm, delicate, scarlet lips, and made the large 
 eyes look elfish under their heavy jet lashes. 
 
 Again the girl started and glanced over her shoulder, 
 impressed with the same tantalizing conviction of a human 
 presence ; of some powerful influence which baffled analysis. 
 Snatching the candle, she put the gold key in her pocket, 
 and turned to leave the room, but stopped, for this time an 
 unmistakable sound, like the shivering of a glass or the 
 snapping of a musical string, fell on her strained ears. She 
 could trace it to no particular spot, and conjectured thai; 
 perhaps a mouse had taken up his abode somewhere in the 
 room, and, frightened by her presence, had run against 
 some of the numerous glass and china ornaments on the 
 etagere, jostling them until they jingled. Replacing the 
 book which she had taken from the shelves, and fastening 
 the box that contained the mss., she examined the cabinets, 
 found them securely closed, and then hurried out of the 
 room, locked the door, took the key, and went to her own 
 apartment with nerves more unsettled than she felt dis- 
 posed to confess. 
 
 For some time after she laid her head on her pillow, she 
 racked her brain for an explanation of the singular sensa- 
 tion she had experienced, and at last, annoyed by her rest- 
 lessness and silly superstition, she was just sinking into 
 dreams of Ammon and Serapis, when the fierce barking of 
 Ali caused her to start up in terror. The dog seemed al- 
 most wild, running frantically to and fro, howling and whin- 
 ing ; but finally the sounds receded, gradually quiet was re- 
 stored, and Edna fell asleep soon after the scream of the 
 
132 ST. ELMO. 
 
 locomotive and the rumble of the cars told her that t. e foui 
 o'clock train had just started to Chattanooga. 
 
 Modern zoologic science explodes the popular fal acy that 
 chameleons assume, and reflect at will, the color of the sub- 
 stance on which they rest or feed ; but, with a profound 
 salaam to savans, it is respectfully submitted that the 
 mental saurian — human thought — certainly takes its chang- 
 ing hues, day by day, from the books through which it 
 crawls devouringly. 
 
 Is there not ground for plausible doubt that, if the work- 
 bench of Mezzofanti had not stood just beneath the teacher's 
 window, whence the ears of the young carpenter were re- 
 galed from morning till night with the rudiments of Latin 
 and Greek, he would never have forsworn planing for 
 parsing, mastered forty dialects, proved a walking scarlet- 
 capped polyglot, and attained the distinction of an honor- 
 ary nomination for the office of interpreter-general at the 
 Tower of Babel ? 
 
 The hoary associations and typical significance of the 
 numerous relics that crowded Mr. Murray's rooms seized 
 upon Edna's fancy, linked her sympathies with the huge 
 pantheistic systems of the Orient, and filled her mind with 
 waifs from the dusky realm of a mythology that seemed to 
 antedate all the authentic chronological computations oi 
 man. To the East, the mighty alma mater of the human 
 races — of letters, religions, arts, and politics, her thoughts 
 wandered in wondering awe ; and Belzoni, Burckhardt, La- 
 yard, and Champollion were hierophants of whose teach- 
 ings she never wearied. As day by day she yielded more 
 and more to this fascinating nepenthe influence, and bent 
 over the granite sarcophagus in one corner of Mr. Murray's 
 museum, where lay a shrunken mummy shrouded in gilded 
 byssus, the Avish strengthened to understand the symbols in 
 which subtle Egyptian priests masked their theogony. 
 
 While morning and afternoon hours were given to those 
 branches of study in which Mr. Hammond guided her, she 
 
S7\ ELMO. 13a 
 
 generally spent the evening in Mr. Murray's si; ting-room, 
 and sometimes the clock in the rotund© struck midnight 
 before she locked up the mss. and illuminated papyri. 
 
 Two nights after the examination of the Targum, she was 
 seated near the bookcase looking over the plates in that 
 rare but very valuable volume, Spence's Polymetis, when 
 the idea flashed across her mind that a rigid analysis and 
 comparison of all the mythologies of the world would throw 
 some light on the problem of ethnology, and in conjunction 
 with philology settle the vexed question. 
 
 Pushing the Polymetis aside, she sprang up and paced 
 the long room, and gradually her eyes kindled, her cheeks 
 burned, as ambition pointed to a possible future, of which, 
 till this hour, she had not dared to dream ; and hope, o'er- 
 leaping all barriers, grasped a victory that would make her 
 name imperishable. 
 
 In her miscellaneous reading she had stumbled upon 
 singular correspondences in the customs and religions of 
 nations separated by surging oceans and by ages ; nations 
 wdiose aboriginal records appeared to prove them distinct, 
 and certainly furnished no hint of an ethnological bridge 
 over which traditions traveled and symbolisms crept in satin 
 sandals. During the past week several of these coincidences 
 had attracted her attention. 
 
 The Druidic rites and the festival of Beltein in Scotland 
 and Ireland, she found traced to their source in the worship 
 of Phrygian Baal. The figure of the Scandinavian Disa, at 
 ITpsal, enveloped in a net precisely like that which sur- 
 rounds some statues of Isis in Egypt. The mat or rush sails 
 used by the Peruvians on Lake Titicaca, and their mode of 
 handling them, pronounced identical with that which is 
 seen upon the sepulchre of Ramses III. at Thebes. The 
 head ot a Mexican priestess ornamented with a vail similar 
 to that carved on Eastern sphinxes, while the robes resem 
 bled those of a Jewish high-priest. A very qua'.nt and puz- 
 zling pictorial chart of the chronology of the Aztecs con- 
 
134 ST. ELMO. 
 
 tained an image of Coxcox in his ark, surroundel by rushes 
 similar to those that overshadowed Moses, and also a like, 
 ness of a dove distributing tongues to those born after the 
 deluge. 
 
 Now, the thought of carefully gathering up these vague 
 mythologic links, and establishing a chain of unity that 
 would girdle the world, seized and mastered her, as if verit- 
 ably clothed with all the power of a bath hoi. 
 
 To firmly grasp the Bible for a talisman, as Ulysses did 
 the sprig of moly, and to stand in the Pantheon of the uni- 
 verse, examining every shattered idol and crumbling de- 
 filed altar, where worshipping humanity had bowed ; to 
 tear the vail from oracles and sybils, and show the world 
 that the true, good, and beautiful of all theogonies and cos- 
 mogonies, of every system of religion that had waxed and 
 waned since the gray dawn of time, could be traced to 
 Moses and to Jesus, seemed to her a mission grander far 
 than the conquest of empire?, and infinitely more to be de- 
 sired than the crown and heritage of Solomon. 
 
 The night wore on as she planned the work of coming 
 years ; but she still walked up and down the floor, with 
 slow uncertain steps, like one who, peering at distant ob- 
 jects, sees nothing close at hand. Flush and tremor passed 
 from her countenance, leaving the features pale and fixed ; 
 for the first gush ©f enthusiasm, like the jets of violet flame 
 flickering over the simmering mass in alchemic crucibles, 
 had vanished — the thought was a crystallized and conse- 
 crated purpose. 
 
 At last, when the feeble light admonished her that she 
 would soon be in darkness, she retreated to her own room, 
 and the first glimmer of day struggled in at her window as 
 she knelt at her bedside praying : 
 
 " Be pleased, O Lord ! to make me a fit instrument for 
 thy work ; sanctify my heart ; quicken and enlighten my 
 mind ; grant me patience and perseverance and unwavering 
 faith ; guide me into paths that lead to truth ; enable me in 
 
ST. ELMO. 135 
 
 all things to labor with an eye single ,o thy glory, caring 
 less for the applause of the world than for the advancement 
 of the cause of Christ. O my Father and my God ! bless 
 the work on which I am about to enter, crown it with suc- 
 cess, accept me as an humble tool for the benefit of my 
 race, and when the days of my earthly pilgrimage ara 
 ended, receive my soul into that eternal rest which thoi 
 hast prepared from the foundations of the world, for tLu 
 saVe of Jesus Christ." 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 NE afternoon, about a week after Mr. Leigh's 
 last visit, as Edna returned from the parsonage, 
 where she had been detained beyond the usual 
 time, Mrs. Murray placed in her hand a note 
 from Mrs. Inge, inviting both to dine with her that day, and 
 meet some distinguished friends from a distant State. Mrs. 
 Murray had already completed an elaborate toilet, and de- 
 sired Edna to lose no time in making the requisite changes 
 in her own dress. The latter took off her hat, laid her books 
 down on a table, and said : 
 
 " Please offer my excuses to Mrs. Inge. I can not accept 
 the invitation, and hope you will not urge me." 
 
 " Nonsense ! Let me hear no more such childish stuff, 
 and get ready at once ; we shall be too late, I am afraid." 
 
 The orphan leaned against the mantel-piece and shook 
 her head. 
 
 Mrs. Murray colored angrily and drew herself up haugh- 
 tily. 
 
 " Edna Earl, did you hear what I said ?" 
 
 " Yes, madam, but this time I can not obey you. Allow 
 me to give you my reasons, and I am sure you will forgive 
 what, may now seem mere obstinacy. On the night of the 
 party given by Mrs. Inge I determined, under no circum- 
 stances, to accept any future invitations. "to her house, for I 
 overheard a conversation between Mrs. Hill and Mrs. Mont- 
 gomery which I believe was intended to reach my ears, 
 and consequently wounded and mortified me very much. 
 
ST. ELMO. 137 
 
 Iwas ridiculed and denounced as a 'poor uptfcart and Inter- 
 loper,' who was being smuggled into society far abo\ t my 
 position in life, and pronounced an avaricious schemer, in- 
 tent on thrusting myself upon Mr. Leigh's notice, and am- 
 bitious of marrying him for his fortune. They sneered at 
 the idea that we should study Hebrew with Mr. Hammond, 
 and declared it a mere trap to catch Mr. Leigh. Now, 
 Mrs. Murray, you know that I never had such a thought, 
 and the bare mention of a motive so sordid, contemptible, 
 and unwomanly surprised and disgusted me; but I resolved 
 to study Hebrew by myself, and to avoid meeting Mr. 
 Leigh at the parsonage ; for if his sister's friends entertain 
 such an opinion of me, I know not what other people, and 
 even Mrs. Inge, may think. Those two ladies added some 
 other things equally unpleasant and untrue, and as I see 
 that they are also invited to dine to-day, it would be very 
 disagreeable for me to meet them in Mr. Leigh's presence." 
 
 Mrs. Murray frowned, and her lips curled, as she clasped 
 a diamond bracelet on her arm. 
 
 "I have long since ceased to be surprised by any mani 
 festation of Mrs. Montgomery's insolence. She doubtless 
 judges your motives by those of her snub-nosed and ex- 
 cruciatingly fashionable daughter, Maud, who, rumor says, 
 is paying most devoted attention to that same fortune of 
 Gordon's. I shall avail myself of the first suitable occasion 
 to suggest to her that it is rather unbecoming in persons 
 whose fathers were convicted of forgery, and hunted out of 
 the State, to lay such stress on the mere poverty of young 
 aspirants for admission into society. I have always noticed 
 that people (women especially) whose lineage is enveloped 
 in a certain twilight haze, constitute themselves guardians 
 of the inviolability of their pretentious cliques, and fly at 
 the throats of those Hio, they imagine, desire to enter their 
 fashionable set — their ' mutual admiration association.' 
 As for Mrs. Hill, whose parents were positively respectable, 
 even genteel, I expected less nervousness from her on 
 
138 ST. ELMO. 
 
 the subject of genealogy, and should have given her ciedit 
 for more courtesy and less malice ; but, poor thing, nature 
 denied her any individuality, and she serves ' her circle r 
 in the same capacity as one of those tin reflectors fastened 
 on locomotives. All that you heard was excessively ill-bred, 
 and in really good society ill-breeding is more iniquitous 
 than ill-nature ; but, however annoying, it is beneath your 
 notice, and unworthy of consideration. I would not gratify 
 them by withdrawing from a position which you can so 
 gracefully occupy." 
 
 " It is no privation to me to stay at home ; on the con- 
 trary, I prefer it, for I would not exchange the companion- 
 ship of the books in this house for all the dinners that ever 
 were given." 
 
 " There is no necessity for you to make a recluse of your- 
 self simply because two rude, silly gossips disgrace them- 
 selves. You have time enough to read and study, and, still 
 go out with me when I consider it advisable." 
 
 " But, my dear Mrs. Murray, my position in your family, 
 as an unknown dependent on your charity, subjects me 
 Ko " 
 
 " Is a matter which does not concern Mesdames Hill and 
 Montgomery, as I shall most unequivocally intimate to 
 them. I insist upon the dismissal of the whole affair from 
 your mind. How much longer do you intend to keep me 
 waiting ?" 
 
 " I am very sorry you can not view the subject from my 
 etandpoint, but hereafter I can not accompany you to 
 dinners and parties. Whenever you desire me to see com- 
 pany in your own house, I shall be glad to comply with 
 your wishes and commands ; but my self-respect will not 
 permit me to go out to meet people who barely tolerate 
 me through fear of offending you. It is exceedingly painful, 
 dear Mrs. Murray, for me to have to appear disrespectful 
 and stubborn toward you, but in this instance I can not 
 comply with your wishes." 
 
ST. ELMO. 189 
 
 They looked at each other steadily, and M;s. Murray's 
 brow cleared and her lip unbent. 
 
 " What do you expect me to tell Mrs. Inge ?-" 
 
 " That I return my thanks for her very kind remembrance, 
 Dut am closely occupied in preparing myself to teach, and 
 have no time for gayeties." 
 
 Mrs. Murray smiled significantly.- 
 
 " Do you suppose that excuse will satisfy your friend 
 Gordon ? He will fly for consolation to the stereotyped 
 smile and delicious flattery of simpering Miss Maud." 
 
 "I care not where he flies, provided I am left in peace." 
 
 " Stop, my dear child ; you do not mean what you say. 
 You know very well that you earnestly hope Gordon will 
 escape the tender mercies of silly Maud and the machina- 
 tions of her most amiable mamma ; if you don't, I do. Un- 
 derstand that you are not to visit Susan Montgomery's sins 
 on Gordon's head. I shall come home early, and make you 
 go to bed at nine o'clock, to punish you for your obstinacy. 
 By the by, Edna, Hagar tells me that you frequently sit up 
 till three or four o'clock, poring over those heathenish doc- 
 uments in my son's cabinet. This is absurd, and will ruin 
 your health ; and beside, I doubt if what you learn is worth 
 your trouble. You must not sit up longer than ten o'clock. 
 Give me my furs." 
 
 Edna ate her dinner alone, and went into the library to 
 practise a difficult music lesson ; but the spell of her new 
 project was stronger than the witchery of music, and 
 closing the piano, she ran into the " Egyptian Museum," as 
 Mrs. Murray termed her son's sitting-room. 
 
 The previous night she had been reading an account of 
 the doctrines of Zoroaster, in which there was an attempt 
 to trace all the chief features of the Zendavesta to the Old 
 Testament and the Jews, and now she returned to the sub 
 ject with unflagging interest. 
 
 Pushing a cushioned chair close to the window, she 
 wrapped her shawl 'around her, put her feet on the round 
 
140 ST. ELMO. 
 
 of a neighboring chair, to keep them from the icy floor 
 and gave herself up to the perusal of the volume. 
 
 The sun went down in a wintry sky ; the solemn red 
 light burning on the funeral pyre of day streamed through 
 the undraped windows, flushed the fretted facade of the 
 Taj Mahal, glowed on the marble floor, and warmed and 
 brightened the serene, lovely face of the earnest young stu 
 dent. As the flame faded in the west, where two stars 
 leaped from the pearly ashes, the fine print of Edna's book 
 grew dim, and she turned the page to catch the mellow, sil- 
 very radiance of the full moon, which, shining low in the 
 east, threw a ghastly lustre on the awful form and floating 
 white hair of the Cimbrian woman on the wall. But be- 
 tween the orphan and the light, close beside her chair, stood 
 a tall, dark figure, with uncovered head and outstretched 
 hands. 
 
 She sprang to her feet, utteriug a cry of mingled alarm 
 and delight, for she knew that erect, stately form and regal 
 head could belong to but one person. 
 
 " O Mr. Murray ! Can it be possible that you have in- 
 deed come home to your sad, desolate mother ? Oh ! for 
 her sake I am so glad !" 
 
 She had clasped her hands tightly in the first instant of 
 surprise, and stood looking at him, with fear and pleasure 
 struggling for mastery in her eloquent countenance. 
 
 "Edna, have you no word of welcome, no friendly hand, 
 to oifer a man who has been wandering for four long 
 years among strangers in distant lands ?" 
 
 It Avas not the harsh, bitter voice whose mocking echoes 
 had haunted her ears during his absence, but a tone so 
 low and deep and mournful, so inexplicably sweet, that she 
 could not recognize it as his, and, unable to utter a word, 
 she put her hand in his outstretched palm. His fingers 
 closed over it with a pressure that was painful, and her ayes 
 fell beneath the steady, searching gaze he fixed on her 
 face. 
 
ST. ELMO. 14j 
 
 For fully a minute they stood motioLless ; then ht? took 
 a match from his pocket, lighted a gas globe that hung ovei 
 the Taj, and locked the door leading into the rotundo. 
 
 " My mother is dining out, Hagar informed me. Tell me 
 is she well ? And have you made her happy while I was 
 far away ?" 
 
 He came back, leaned his elbow on the carved top oi 
 the cushioned chair, and partially shading his eyes with his 
 hand, looked down into the girl's face. 
 
 " Your mother is very well indeed, but anxious and un- 
 happy on your account, and I think you will find her thinner 
 and paler than when you saw her last." 
 
 " Then you have not done your duty, as I requested ?" 
 
 "I could not take your place, sir, and your last letter led 
 her to believe that you would be absent for another year. 
 Sbe thinks that at this instant you are in the heart of Persia. 
 Last night, when the servant came from the post-office 
 without the letter which she confidently expected, her eyes 
 filled with tears, and she said, ' He has ceased to think of 
 his home, and loves the excitement of travel better than his 
 mother's peace of mind.' Why did you deceive her ? 
 Why did you rob her of all the joy of anticipating your 
 speedy return ?" 
 
 As she glanced at him, she saw the old scowl settling 
 heavily between his eyes, and the harshness had crept back 
 to the voice that answered : 
 
 "I did not deceive her. It was a sudden and unexpected 
 circumstance that determined my return. Moreover, she 
 •mould long since have accustomed herself to find happiness 
 from other sources than my society ; for no one knows bet- 
 ter my detestation of settling down in any fixed habitation." 
 
 Edna felt all her childish repugnance sweeping over her 
 as she saw the swift hardening of his features, and she 
 turned toward the door. 
 
 '* Where are you going ?" 
 
 ** To send a messenger to your mother, acquainting her 
 

 142 ST. ELMO. 
 
 with your arrival. She would not forgive me if 1 failed t« 
 give her such good tidings at the very earliest moment." 
 
 " You will do no such thing. I forbid any message. She 
 thinks me in the midst of Persian ruins, and can afford to 
 wait an hour longer among her friends. How happened it 
 that you also are not at Mrs. Inge's ?" 
 
 Either the suddenness of the question, or the intentness 
 of his scrutiny, or the painful consciousness of the true 
 cause of her failure to accept the invitation, brought back 
 the blood which surprise had driven from her cheeks. 
 
 " I preferred remaining at home." 
 
 " Home ! home !" he repeated, and continued vehemently: 
 " Do you really expect me to believe that a girl of your 
 age, with the choice of a dinner-party among the elite, with 
 lace, silk, and feathers, champagne, bon-mot, and scandal, 
 flattering speeches and soft looks from young gentlemen, 
 biting words and hard looks from old ladies, or the alter- 
 native of a dull, lonely evening in this cold, dreary den of 
 mine, shut up with mummies, mss., and musty books, could 
 deliberately decline the former and voluntarily select the 
 latter ? Such an anomaly in sociology, such a lusus n-aturce, 
 might occur in Bacon's ' Bensalem,' or in some undiscov- 
 ered and unimagined realm, where the men are all brave, 
 honest, and true, and the women conscientious and constant ! 
 But here ! and now? Ah ! pardon me ! Impossible !" 
 
 Edna felt as if Momus' suggestion to Vulcan, of a win- 
 dow in the human breast, whereby one's thoughts might be 
 rendered visible, had been adopted ; for, under the empaling 
 eye bent upon her, the secret motives of her conduct seemed 
 spread out as on a scroll, which he read at will. 
 
 "I was invited to Mrs. Inge's, yet you find me here, be- 
 cause I preferred a quiet evening at home to a noisy one 
 elsewhere. How do you explain the contradiction if you 
 disbelieve my words ?" 
 
 " I am not so inexperienced as to tax my ingenuity with 
 any such biirden. With the Penelope web of female mo- 
 
ST. ELMO 143 
 
 lives may fates and furies forbid rash meddling Unless 
 human nature here in America has undergone a radical 
 change, nay, a most complete transmogrification, since 1 
 abjured it some years ago; unless this year is to be chron- 
 icled as an Avatar of truth and unselfishness, I will stake 
 all my possessions on the assertion that some very peculiai 
 and cogent reason, something beyond the desire to prose- 
 cute archaeological researches, has driven you to decline 
 the invitation." 
 
 She made no reply, but opened the bookcase and re- 
 placed the volume which she had been reading ; and he saw 
 that she glanced uneasily toward the door, as if longing to 
 escape. 
 
 " Are you insulted at my presumption in thus catechising 
 you ?" 
 
 " I am sorry, sir, to find that you have lost none of your 
 cynicism in your travels." 
 
 " Do you regard travelling as a panacea for minds dis- 
 eased ?" 
 
 She looked up and smiled in his face — a smile so bright 
 and arch and merry, that even a stone might have caught 
 the glow. 
 
 " Certainly not, Mr. Murray, as you are the most incor- 
 rigible traveller I have ever known." 
 
 But there was no answering gleam on his darkening 
 countenance as he watched her, and the brief silence that 
 ensued was annoying to his companion, who felt less at 
 ease every moment, and convinced that with such antag- 
 onisms of character existing between them, all her peace- 
 ful, happy days at Le Bocage were drawing to a close. 
 
 "Mr. Murray, I am cold, and I should like to go to the 
 fire if you have no more questions to ask, and will be so 
 kind as to.unlock the door." 
 
 He glanced round the room, and taking his grey travel- 
 ing shawl from a chair where he had thrown it, laid it in a 
 heap on the marble tiles, and said : 
 
144 ST. ELMO. 
 
 " Yes, this floor is icy. Stand on the shawl, though I 
 am well aware you are more tired of me than of the 
 room." 
 
 Another long pause followed, and then St. Elmo Murray 
 came close to his companion, saying : 
 
 " For four long years I have been making an experiment 
 —one of those experiments which men frequently attempt, 
 believing all the time that it is worse than child's play, and 
 half hoping that it will prove so and sanction the wisdom 
 of their skepticism concerning the result. When I left 
 home I placed in your charge the key of my private desk 
 or cabinet, exacting the promise that only upon certain 
 conditions would you venture to open it. Those contin- 
 gencies have not arisen, consequently there can be no jus- 
 tification for your having made yourself acquainted with 
 the contents of the vaidt. I told you I trusted the key in 
 your hands ; I did not. I felt assured you would betray 
 the confidence. It was not a trust — it was a temptation, 
 which I believed no girl or woman would successfully resist. 
 I am here to receive an account of your stewardship, and 
 I tell you now I doubt you. Where is the key ?" 
 
 She took from her pocket a small ivory box, and opening 
 it drew out the little key and handed it to him. 
 
 " Mr. Murray, it was a confidence which I never solicited, 
 which has caused me much pain 5i because it necessitated 
 concealment from your mother, but which — God is my wit- 
 ness — I have not betrayed. There is the key, but of the 
 contents of the tomb I know nothing. It was ungenerous 
 in you to tempt a child as you did ; to offer a premium as 
 it were for a violation of secrecy, by whetting my curiosity ~ 
 and then placing in my own hands the means of gratifying 
 it. Of course I have wondered what the mystery was, and 
 why you selected me for its custodian ; and I have often 
 wished to inspect the interior of that marble cabinet; but 
 child though I was, I think I would have gone to the stake 
 sooner than violate my promise." ' -:;X 
 
8T. ELMO. 145 
 
 As he took the key she observed that his hand trembled 
 and that a sudden pallor overspread his face. 
 
 "Edna Earl, I give you one last chance to be truthful 
 with me. If you yielded to the temptation — and what 
 woman, what girl, would not ? — it would be no more than I 
 really expected, and you will scarcely have disappointed 
 me ; for as I told you, I put no faith in you. But even if 
 you succumbed to a natural curiosity, be honest and confess 
 it!" 
 
 She looked up steadily into his inquisitorial eyes, and 
 answered : 
 
 " I have nothing to confess." 
 
 He laid his hand heavily on her shoulder, and his tone 
 was eager, vehement, pleading, tremulous : 
 
 "Can you look me in the eye — so — and say that you 
 never put this key in yonder lock ? Edna ! more hangs on 
 your words than you dream of. Be truthful ! as if you 
 were indeed in the presence Of the God you worship. I 
 can forgive you for prying into my affairs, but I can not 
 and will not pardon you for trifling with me now." 
 
 " I never unlocked the vault ; I never had the key near it 
 but once — about a week ago — when I found the tomb cov- 
 ered with cobwebs, and twisted the key partially into the 
 hole to drive out the spider. I give you my most solemn 
 assurance that I never unlocked it, never saw the interior. 
 Your suspicions are ungenerous and unjust — derogatory to 
 you and insulting to me." 
 
 "The proof is at hand, and if I have indeed unjustly 
 suspected you, atonement full and ample shall be made." 
 
 Clasping one of her hands so firmly that she could not 
 extricate it, he drew her before the Taj Mahal, and stoop- 
 ing, fitted the key to the lock. There was a dull click as 
 he turned it, but even then he paused and scrutinized her 
 face. It was flushed, and wore a proud, defiant, grieved 
 look ; his own was colorless as the marble that reflected it, 
 and she felt the heavy, rapid beating of his blood, and saw 
 the cords thickening on his brow. 
 
146 ST. ELMO. 
 
 " If you have faithfully observed your promise, there wl\ 
 be an explosion when I open the vault." 
 
 Slowly he turned the key a second time ; and as the 
 arched door opened and swung back on its golden hinges, 
 there was a flash and sharp report from a pistol within. 
 
 Edna started involuntarily notwithstanding the warning, 
 and clung to his arm an instant, but he took no notice of 
 her whatever. His fingers relaxed their iron grasp of hers, 
 his hand dropped to his side, and leaning forward, he bowed 
 his head on the marble dome of the little temple. How 
 long he stood there she knew not; but the few moments 
 seemed to her interminable as she silently watched his 
 motionless figure. 
 
 He Avas so still, that finally she conjectured he might 
 possibly have fainted from some cause unknown to her ; 
 and averse though she was to addressing him, she said 
 timidly : 
 
 " Mr. Murray, are you ill ? Give me the key of the door 
 and I will bring you some wine." 
 
 There was no answer, and in alarm she put her hand on 
 his. 
 
 Tightly he clasped it, and drawing her suddenly close to 
 his side, said without raising his face : 
 
 " Edna Earl, I have been ill — for years — but I shall be 
 better henceforth. O child! child! -your calm, pure, guile- 
 less soul can not comprehend the blackness and dreariness 
 of mine. Better that you should lie down now in death, 
 with all the unfolded freshness of your life gathered in your 
 grave, than live to know the world as I have proved it. 
 For many years I have lived without hope or trust or faith 
 in any thing — in any body. To-night I stand here lacking 
 sympathy with or respect for my race, and my confidence 
 in human nature was dead ; but, child, you have galvanized 
 the corpse." 
 
 Again the mournful music of his voice touched her heart, 
 and she felt her tears rising as she answered in a low, hesi> 
 tating tone : 
 
ST. ELMO. 747 
 
 "It was not death, Mr. Murray, it was merely syncope; 
 and this is a healthful reaction from disease." 
 
 " No, it will not last. It is but an ignis fatuus that will 
 decoy to deeper gloom and darker morasses. I have swept 
 and garnished, and the seven other devils will dwell with 
 me forever ! My child, I have tempted you, and you stood 
 firm. Forgive my suspicions. Twenty years hence, if you 
 are so luckless as to live that long, you will not wonder 
 that I doubted you, but that my doubt proved unjust. 
 This little vault contains no skeleton, no state secrets ; only 
 a picture and a few jewels, my will, and the history of a 
 wrecked, worthless, utterly ruined life. Perhaps if you 
 continue true, and make my mother happy, I may put all 
 in your hands some day, when I die ; and then you will 
 not wonder at my aimless, hopeless, useless life. One thing 
 I wish to say now, if at any time you need assistance of any 
 kind — If you are troubled — come to me. I am not quite so 
 selfish as the world paints me, and even if I seem rude and 
 harsh, do not fear to come to me. You have conferred a 
 favor on me, and I do not like to remain in any body's debt. 
 Make me repay you as soon as possible." 
 
 " I am afraid, sir, we never can be friends." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " Because you have no confidence in me, and I would 
 much sooner go for sympathy to one of your bronze mon- 
 sters yonder on the doorsteps, than to you. Neither of us 
 likes the other, and consequently a sham cordiality would 
 be intolerably irksome. I shall not be here much longer ; 
 but while w r e are in the same house, I trust no bitter or 
 unkind feelings will be entertained. I thank you, sir, for 
 your polite offer of assistance', but hope I shall soon be able 
 to maintain myself without burdening your mother any 
 longer." 
 
 " How long have you burdened her ?" 
 
 " Ever since that night when I was picked up lame and 
 helpless, and placed in her kind hands." 
 
148 ST. ELMO. 
 
 "I should like to know whether yon really love iny 
 mother ?" 
 
 " Next to the memory of my grandfather, I lore her and 
 Mr. Hammond ; and I feel that my gratitude is beyond 
 expression. There, your mother is coming! I hear the 
 carriage. Shall I tell her you are here ?" 
 
 Without raising his face, he took the key of the dooi 
 from his pocket, and held it toward her. " No ; I will meet 
 her in her own room." 
 
 Edna hastened to the library, and throwing herself into 
 a chair, tried to collect her thoughts and reflect upon what 
 had passed in the " Egyptian Museum." 
 
 Very soon Mrs. Murray's cry of joyful surprise rang 
 through the house, and tears of sympathy rose to Edna's 
 eyes as fancy pictured the happy meeting in the neighbor- 
 ing room. Notwithstanding the strong antipathy to Mr. 
 Murray which she had assiduously cultivated., and despite 
 her conviction that he held in derision the religious faith 
 to which she clung so tenaciously, she was now disquieted 
 and pained to discover that his bronzed face possessed an 
 attraction — an indescribable fascination — which she had 
 found nowhere else. In striving to analyze the interest 
 she was for the first time conscious of feeling, she soothed 
 herself with the belief that it arose from curiosity concern- 
 ing his past life, and sympathy for bis evident misanthropy. 
 It was in vain that she endeavored to fix her thoughts on 
 a book ; his eyes met hers on every page, and when the bell 
 summoned her to a late supper, she was glad to escape 
 from her own confused reflections. 
 
 Mrs. Murray and her son were standing on the rug 
 before the grate, and as Edna entered, the former held out 
 her hand. 
 
 " Have you seen my son ? Come and congratulate me." 
 She kissed the girl's forehead, and continued : 
 
 "St. Elmo, has she not changed astonishingly ? Would 
 you have known her had you met her away from home ?" 
 
 > 
 
ST. ELMO. 14^ 
 
 " I should certainly have known her under all cir 
 cumstances." 
 
 He did not look at her, but resumed the conversation 
 with his mother which her entrance had interrupted, and 
 during supper Edna could scarcely realize that the cold, dis- 
 tant man who took no more notice of her, than of one of the 
 salt cellars, was the same whom she had left leaning over the 
 Taj. Not the faintest trace of emotion lingered on the 
 dark, stony features, over which occasionally flickered the 
 light of a sarcastic smile, as he briefly outlined the course 
 of his wanderings ; and now that she could, without being 
 observed, study his countenance, she saw that he looked 
 much older, more worn and haggard and hopeless, than 
 when last at home, and that the thick curling hair that 
 clung in glossy rings to his temples was turning grey. 
 
 When they rose from the table, Mrs. Murray took an ele- 
 gant bouquet from the mantlepiece and said : 
 
 " Edna, I was requested to place this in your hands, as a 
 token of the regard and remembrance of your friend and 
 admirer, Gordon Leigh, who charged me to assure you 
 that your absence spoiled his enjoyment of the day. As he 
 seemed quite inconsolable because of your non-attendance, 
 I promised that you should ride with him to-morrow 
 afternoon." 
 
 As Edna glanced up to receive the flowers, she met the 
 merciless gaze she so much dreaded, and in her confusion 
 let the bouquet fall on the carpet. Mr. Murray picked it 
 up, inhaled the fragrance, rearranged some of the gerani- 
 um leaves that had been crushed, and, smiling bitterly all 
 the while, bowed, and put it securely in her hand. 
 
 " Edna, you have no other engagement for to-morrow ?" 
 
 " Yes, madam, I have promised to spend it with Mr. 
 Hammond." 
 
 "Then you must excuse yourself, for I will not have 
 Gordon disappointed again." 
 
 Too m'ush, annoyed to answer, Edna left the room, but 
 
150 ST. ELMO 
 
 paused in the hall and beckoned to Mrs. Muri ay who in 
 stantly joined her. 
 
 "Of course you will not have prayers to-night, as Mr, 
 Murray has returned ?" 
 
 " For that very reason I want to have them, to make a 
 public acknowledgment of my gratitude that my son has 
 been restored to me. Oh ! if he would only consent to be 
 present !" 
 
 " It is late, and he will probably plead fatigue." 
 
 " Leave that with me, and when I ring the bell, come to 
 the library." 
 
 The orphan Avent to her room and diligently copied an 
 essay which she intended to submit to Mr. Hammond for 
 criticism on the following day ; and as the comparative 
 merits of the Solonian and Lycurgian codes constituted her 
 theme, she soon became absorbed by Grecian politics, and 
 was only reminded of the events of the evening, when the 
 muezzin bell sounded, calling the household to prayer. 
 
 She laid down her pen and hurried to the library, whither 
 Mrs. Murray had enticed her son, who was standing before 
 one of the bookcases, looking over the table of contents of 
 a new scientific work. The servants came in and ranged 
 themselves near the door, and suddenly Mrs. Murray said : 
 
 " You must take my place to-night, Edna ; I can not read 
 aloud." 
 
 The orphan looked up appealingly, but an imperative 
 gesture silenced her, and she sat down before the table, be- 
 wildered and frightened. Mr. Murray glanced around the 
 room, and with a look of wrath and scorn threw down the 
 book and turned toward the door ; but his mother's hands 
 seized his — 
 
 " My son, for my sake, do not go ! Out of respect for 
 me, remain this first evening of your return. For my sake, 
 St. Elmo !" 
 
 He frowned, shook off her hands, and strode to the door; 
 then reconsidered the matter, came back, and stood at the 
 
ST. ELMO. 151 
 
 fireplace, leaning his elbow on the mantel, looking gloomily 
 at the coals. 
 
 Although painfully embarrassed as she took her seat and 
 prepared to conduct the services in his presence, Edna felt 
 a great calm steal over her spirit when she opened the 
 Bible and read her favorite chapter, the fourteenth of St. 
 John. 
 
 Her sweet, flexible voice, gradually losing its tremor, 
 rolled soothingly through the room ; and when she knelt 
 and repeated the prayer selected for the occasion — a prayer 
 of thanks for the safe return of a traveller to the haven of 
 home — her tone was full of pathos and an earnestness that 
 strangely stirred the proud heart of the wanderer as he 
 stood there, looking through his fingers at her uplifted face, 
 and listening to the first prayer that had reached his ears 
 for nearly nineteen weary years of sin and scoffing. 
 
 When Edna rose from her knees he had left the room, 
 and she heard his swift steps echoing drearily through the 
 rotundo. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 DO not wish to interrupt yon. There is certain 
 ly room enough in this library for both, and my 
 entrance need not prove the signal for your de 
 parture." 
 
 Mr. Murray closed the door as he came in, aDd walking 
 up to the bookcases, stood carefully examining the titles 
 of the numerous volumes. It was a cold, dismal morning, 
 and sobbing wintry winds and the ceaseless pattering of rain 
 made the outer world seem dreary in comparison with the 
 genial atmosphere and the ruddy glow of the cosy, luxuri- 
 ous library, where choice exotics breathed their fragrance 
 and early hyacinths exhaled their rich perfume. In the 
 centre of the morocco-covered table stood a tall glass bowl, 
 filled with white camellias, and from its scalloped edges 
 drooped a fringe of scarlet fuchsias ; while near the window 
 was a china statuette, in whose daily adornment Edna took 
 unwearied interest. It was a lovely Flora, whose slender 
 fingers held aloft small tulip-shaped vases, into which fresh 
 blossoms were inserted every morning. The head was so 
 arranged as to contain water, and tlms preserve the wreath 
 of natural flowers which crowned the goddess. To-day 
 golden crocuses nestled down on the streaming hair, and 
 purple pansies filled the fairy hands, while the tiny, rosy 
 feet sank deep in the cushion of fine, green mosses, studded 
 with double violets. 
 
 Edna had risen to leave the room when the master of the 
 
ST. ELMO. 153 
 
 nDuse entered, "but at Ms request resumed her sent and con- 
 tinued reading. 
 
 After searching the shelves unavailingly, he glanced over 
 his shoulder and asked : 
 
 "Have you seen my copy of De Guerin's Centaur 
 anywhere about the house ? I had it a week ago." 
 
 " I beg your pardon, sir, for causing such a fruitless 
 search ; here is the book. I picked it up on the front steps, 
 where you were reading a few afternoons since, and it 
 opened at a passage that attracted my attention." 
 
 She closed the volume and held it toward him, but he 
 waved it back. 
 
 "Keep it if it intei*ests you. I have read it once, and 
 merely wished to refer to a particular passage. Can you 
 guess what sentence most frequently recurs to me ? If so, 
 read it to me." 
 
 He drew a chair close to the hearth and lighted his cigar. 
 
 Hesitatingly Edna turned the leaves. 
 
 " I am afraid, sir, that my selection would displease you." 
 
 " I will risk it, as, notwithstanding your flattering opinion 
 to the contrary, I am not altogether so unreasonable as to 
 take offense at a compliance with my own request." 
 
 Still she shrank from the task he imposed, and her fingers 
 toyed with the scarlet fuchsias; but after eyeing her for 
 a while, he leaned forward and pushed the glass bowl be- 
 yond her reach. 
 
 " Edna, I am waiting." 
 
 "Well then, Mr. Murray, I should think that these two 
 passages would impress you with peculiar force." 
 
 Raising the book she read with much emphasis : 
 
 " Thou pursuest after wisdom, O Melampus ! which 's 
 the science of the will of the gods; and thou roamest from 
 people to people, like a -mortal driven by the destinies. Tn the 
 times when I kept my night-watches before the caverns, I 
 have sometimes believed that I was about to surprise the 
 thoughts of the sleeping Cybele, and that the mother of the 
 
154 ST. ELMO. 
 
 gods, betrayed by her dreams, would let fall some uf he? 
 secrets. But I have never yet made out nore tnan sounds 
 which faded away in the murmur of night, or words inar- 
 ticulate as the bubbling of the rivers. 
 
 " Seekest thou to know the gods, O Macareus ! and from 
 what source men, animals, and the elements of the universal 
 fire have their origin ? The aged ocean, the father *of all 
 things, keeps locked within his own breast these secrets; 
 and the nyniphs who stand around sing as they weave their 
 eternal dance before him, to cover any sound which might 
 escape from his lips, half opened by slumber. Mortals dear 
 to the gods for their virtue have received from their hands 
 lyres to give delight to man, or the seeds of new plants to 
 make him rich, but from their inexorable lips — nothing !" 
 
 " Mr. Murray, am I correct in my conjecture ?" 
 
 " Quite correct," he answered, smiling grimly. 
 
 Taking the book from her hand he threw it on the table, 
 and tossed his cigar into the grate, adding in a defiant, chal- 
 lenging tone : 
 
 " The mantle of Solomon did not fall at Le Cayla on the 
 shoulders of Maurice de Guerin. After all, he was a 
 wretched hypochondriac, and a tinge of le cahier vert 
 doubtless crept into his eyes." 
 
 " Do you forget, sir, that he said, ' When one is a wan 
 derer, one feels that one fulfils the tvue condition of human- 
 ity' ? and that among his last words are these, 'The 
 stream of travel is full of delight. Oh ! who will set me 
 adrift on this Nile ?' " 
 
 "Pardon me if I remind you, par parenthese, of the pre 
 liminary and courteous JEn garde! which should be pro 
 nounced before a thrust. De Gu6rin felt starved in Lan-. 
 guedoc, and no wonder! But had he penetrated every 
 nook and cranny of the habitable globe, and traversed the 
 vast zaarahs which science accords the universe, he would 
 have died at last as hungry as Ugolino. I sp^ak advisedly. 
 
ST. ELMO. 155 
 
 ft r the true Io gad-fly, ennui, has stung me from hemisphere 
 to hemisphere, across tempestuous oceans, scorching de 
 serts, and icy mountain ranges. I have faced alike the 
 bourrans of the steppes and the Samieli of Shamo, and the 
 result of my vandal life is best epitomized in those grand 
 but grim words of Bossuet : ' On trouve aufond de tout le 
 vide et le neant? Nineteen years ago, to satisfy my hunger, 
 I set out to hunt the daintiest food this world could fur- 
 nish, and, like other fools, have learned finally, that'' life is 
 but a huge mellow golden Osher, that mockingly sifts its 
 bitter dust upon our eager lips. Ah ! truly, on trouve au 
 fond de tout le vide et le neant /" 
 
 " Mr. Murray, if you insist upon your bitter Osher simile, 
 why shut your eyes to the palpable analogy suggested •? 
 Naturalists assert that the Solanum, or apple of Sodom, 
 contains in its normal state neither dust nor ashes ; unless 
 it is punctured by an insect, (the Tenthredo,) which con- 
 verts the whole of the inside into dust, leaving nothing but 
 the rind entire, without any loss of color. Human life is 
 as fair and tempting as the fruit of ' Ain Jidy,' till stung 
 and poisoned by the Tenthredo of sin." 
 
 All conceivable suaviter in modo characterized his mock- 
 ing countenance and tone, as he inclined his haughty head 
 and asked : 
 
 " Will you favor me by lifting on the point of your dis- 
 secting-knife this stinging sin of mine to which you refer ? 
 The noxious brood swarm so teasingly about my ears that 
 they deprive me of your cool, clear, philosophic discrimina- 
 tion, Which particular Tenthredo of the buzzing swarm 
 around my spoiled apple of life would you advise me to 
 select for my anathema maranatha ?" 
 
 " Of your history, sir, I am entirely ignorant ; and even 
 if I were not, I should not presume to levy a tax upon it in 
 discussions with you ; for, however vulnerable you may 
 possibly be, I regard an argumentum ad hominem as the 
 weakest weapon in the armory of dialectics — a weapon too 
 
156 ST. ELMO. 
 
 often dipped in the venom of personal malevolence. I 
 merely gave expression to my belief that miserable, useless 
 lives are sinful lives ; that when God framed the world, 
 and called the human race into it, he made most munificent 
 provision for all healthful hunger, whether physical, intel- 
 lectual, or moral ; and that it is a morbid, diseased, dis- 
 torted nature that wears out its allotted years on earth in 
 bitter carping and blasphemous dissatisfaction. The Greeks 
 recognized this immemorial truth — wrapped it in classic 
 traditions, and the myth of Tantalus constituted its swad- 
 dling-clothes. You are a scholar, Mr. Murray ; look back 
 and analyze the derivation and significance of that fable. 
 Tantalus, the son of Pluto, or Wealth, was, according to 
 Pindar, ' a wanderer from happiness,' and the name repre- 
 sents a man abounding in wealth, but whose appetite was 
 so insatiable, even at the ambrosial feast of the gods, that 
 it ultimately doomed him to eternal, unsatisfied thirst and 
 hunger in Tartarus. The same truth crops out in the legend 
 of Midas, who found himself starving while his touch con- 
 verted all things to gold." 
 
 " Doubtless you have arrived at the charitable conclusion 
 that, as I am endowed with all the amiable idiosyncrasies 
 of ancient cynics, I shall inevitably join the snarling Dives 
 Club in Hades, and swell the howling chorus. Probably I 
 shall not disappoint your kind and eminently Christian ex- 
 pectations ; nor will I deprive you of the gentle satisfac- 
 tion of hissing across the gulf of perdition, which will then 
 divide us, that summum bonum of feminine felicity, ' I 
 told you so !' " 
 
 The reckless mockery of his manner made Edna shiver, 
 and a tremor crept across her beautiful lips as she an- 
 swered sadly : 
 
 " You torture my words into an interpretation of which 
 I never dreamed, and look upon all things through the dis- 
 torting lenses of your own moodiness. It is worse than 
 useless for us to attempt an amicable discussion, for your 
 
ST. ELMO. L 5t 
 
 oitterness never slumbers, your suspicions ai\s 3vei on the 
 qui vive?' 
 
 She rose, but he quickly laid his hand on her shouller, 
 and pressed her back into the chair. 
 
 " You will be so good as to sit still, and hear me out. I 
 have a right to all my charming, rose-colored views of this 
 world. I have gone to and fro on the earth, and life has 
 proved a Barmecide's banquet of just thirty-eight years' 
 duration." 
 
 " But, sir, you lacked the patience and resolution of Shac- 
 abac, or, like him, you would have finally grasped the splen- 
 did realities. The world must be conquered, held in bond- 
 age to God's law and man's reason, before we can hope to 
 levy tribute that will support our moral and mental na- 
 tures ; and it is only when humanity finds itself in the in- 
 verted order of serfdom to the world, that it dwarfs its 
 capacities, and even then dies of famine." 
 
 The scornful gleam died out of his eyes, and mournful 
 compassion stole in. 
 
 " Ah ! how impetuously youth springs to the battle-field 
 of life ! Hope exorcises the gaunt spectre of defeat, and 
 fancy fingers unwon trophies and fadeless bays ; but slow- 
 stepping experience, pallid blood-stained, spent with toil, 
 lays her icy hand on the rosy vail that floats before bright, 
 brave, young eyes, and lo ! the hideous wreck, the bleach- 
 ing bones, the grinning, ghastly horrors that strew the 
 scene of combat ! No burnished eagles nor streaming 
 banners, neither spoils of victory nor peans of triumph, 
 only silence and gloom and death — slow-sailing vultures — 
 and a voiceless desolation ! O child ! if you would find a 
 suitable type of that torn and trampled battle-field — the 
 human heart — when vice and virtue, love and hate, revenge 
 and remorse, have wrestled fiercely for the mastery — go 
 back to your Tacitus, and study there the dismal picture of 
 that lonely Teutoburgium, where Varus and his legions went 
 down in the red burial of battle ! You talk of ' conquer- 
 
158 ST. ELMO. 
 
 ing the world — holding it in bondage !' What do you 
 know of its perils and subtle temptations — of the glistening 
 quicksands whose smooth lips already gape to engulf you ? 
 The very vilest fiend in hell might afford to pause and pity 
 your delusion ere turning to machinations destined to 
 rouse you rudely from your silly dreams. Ah ! you remind 
 me of a little innocent, happy child, playing on some shin- 
 ing beach, when the sky is quiet, the winds are hushed, and 
 all things wrapped in rest, save 
 
 ' The water lapping on the crag, 
 And the long ripple washing in the reeds ' — 
 
 a fair fearless child, gathering polished pearly shells with 
 which to build fairy palaces, and suddenly, as she catches 
 the mournful murmur of the immemorial sea, that echoes 
 in the flushed and folded chambers of the stranded shells, 
 her face pales with awe and wonder — the childish lips part, 
 the childish eyes are strained to discover the mystery ; and 
 while the whispering monotone admonishes of howling 
 storms and sinking argosies, she smiles and listens, sees 
 only the glowing carmine of the fluted cells, hears only 
 the magic music of the sea sibyls — and the sky blackens, 
 the winds leap to their track of ruin, the great deep rises 
 wrathful and murderous, bellowing for victims, and Cyclone 
 reigns ! Thundering waves sweep over and bear away the 
 frail palaces that decked the strand, and even while the 
 shell symphony still charms the ear, the child's rosy feet 
 are washed from their sandy resting-place ; she is borne on 
 howling billows far out to a lashed and maddened main, 
 strewn with human drift ; and numb with horror she sinks 
 swiftly to a long and final rest among purple algre! Even 
 so, Edna, you stop your ears with shells, and my warning 
 falls like snow-flakes that melt and vanish on the bosom oi 
 a stream." 
 
 "No, sir, I am willing to be advised. Against whal 
 would you warn me ?" 
 
ST. ELMO. 159 
 
 "The hollowness of life, the fatuity of your hopes, the 
 treachery of that human nature of which you speak so 
 tenderly and reverently. So surely as you put faith in the 
 truth and nobility of humanity, you will find it as soft- 
 lipped and vicious as Paolo Orsini, who folded his wife, 
 Isabella de Medici, most lovingly in his arms, and while he 
 tenderly pressed her to his heart, slipped a cord around 
 her neck and strangled her." 
 
 " I know, sir, that human nature is weak, selfish, sinful — 
 that such treacherous monsters as Ezzolino and the Vis- 
 conti have stained the annals of our race with blood-blotches, 
 which the stream of time will never efface ; but the law of 
 compensation operates here as well as in other departments, 
 and brings to light a l Jldus Achates' and Antoninus. I 
 believe that human nature is a curious amalgam of mean- 
 ness, malice, and magnanimity, and that an earnest, loving 
 Christian charity is the only safe touchstone, and furnishes 
 (if you will tolerate the simile) the only elective affinity in 
 moral chemistry. Because ingots are not dug out of the 
 earth, is it not equally unwise and ungrateful to ridicule 
 and denounce the hopeful, patient,, tireless laborers who 
 handle the alloy and ultimately disintegrate the precious 
 metal ? Even if the world were bankrupt in morality and 
 religion — which, thank God, it is not — one grand shining 
 example, like Mr. Hammond, whose unsweiwing consisten 
 cy, noble charity, and sublime unselfishness all concede and 
 revere, ought to leaven the mass of sneering cynics, and 
 win them to a belief in their capacity for rising to pure, 
 holy, almost perfect lives." 
 
 "Spare me a repetition of the rhapsodies cf Madame 
 Guyon! I am not surprised that such a novice as you 
 prove yourself sTiould, in the stereotyped style of orthodoxy, 
 swear by that hoary Tartuffe, that hypocritical wolf, Allan 
 Hammond " 
 
 " Stop, Mr. Murray ! You must not, shall not use such 
 language in my presence concerning one whom I love and 
 
160 ST - ELMO. 
 
 revere above all other human beings ! How dare you 
 malign that noble Christian, whose lips daily lift your name 
 to God, praying for pardon and for peace ? Oh ! how un- 
 grateful, how unworthy you are of his affection and his 
 prayers !" 
 
 She had interrupted him with an imperious wave of her 
 hand, and stood regarding him with an expression of indig- 
 nation and detestation. 
 
 "I neither possess nor desire his affection or his prayers." 
 
 " Sir, you know that you do not deserve, but you most 
 certainly have both." 
 
 " How did you obtain your information ?" 
 
 " Accidentally, when he was so surprised and grieved to 
 hear that you had started on your long voyage to Ocean- 
 ica." 
 
 "He availed himself of that occasion to acquaint you 
 with all my heinous sins, my youthful crimes and follies, 
 my " 
 
 " No, sir ! he told me nothing, except that you no longei 
 loved him as in your boyhood; that you had become es- 
 tranged from him; aud then he wept, and added, 'I love 
 him still ; I shall pray for him as long as I live.' " 
 
 " Impossible ! You can not deceive me ! In the depths 
 of his heart he hates and curses me. Even a brooding 
 dove — pshaw ! Allan Hammond is but a man, and it would 
 be unnatural — utterly impossible that he could still think 
 kindly of his old pupil. Impossible !" 
 
 Mr. Murray rose and stood before the grate with his face 
 averted, and his companion seized the opportunity to say in 
 a low, determined tone : 
 
 " Of the causes that induced your estrangement I am 
 absolutely ignorant. Nothing has been told me, and it is 
 a matter about which I have conjectured little. But, sir, I 
 nave seen Mr. Hammond every day for four years, and I 
 know what I say when I tell you that he loves you as well 
 as if you were his own son. Moreover, he " 
 
ST. ELMO. Iflj 
 
 "Hush! you talk of what you do not understand. Be- 
 lieve in him if you will, hut be careful not to chant his 
 praises in my presence ; not to parade your credulity before 
 my eyes, if you do not desire that I shall disenchant you. 
 Just now you are duped — so was I at your age. Your 
 judgment slumbers, experience is in its swaddling-clothes; 
 but I shall bide my time, and the day will come ere long 
 when these hymns of hero-worship shall be hushed, and 
 you stand clearer-eyed, darker-hearted, before the moulder- 
 ing altar of your god of clay." 
 
 " From such an awakening may God preserve me ! Even 
 if our religion were not divine, I should clasp to my heart 
 the system and the faith that make Mr. Hammond's life 
 serene and sublime. Oh ! that I may be ' duped ' into that 
 perfection of character which makes his example beckon me 
 ever onward and upward. If you have no gratitude, no 
 reverence left, at least remember the veneration with which 
 I regard him, and do not in my hearing couple his name 
 with sneers and insults." 
 
 " 'Ephraim is joined to idols : let him alone !' " muttered 
 the master of the house, with one of those graceful, mock- 
 ing bows that always disconcerted the orphan. 
 
 She was nervously twisting Mr. Leigh's ring around her 
 finger, and as it was too large, it slipped off, rung on the 
 hearth, and rolled to Mr. Murray's feet. 
 
 Picking it up he examined the emerald, and repeating 
 the inscription, asked : 
 
 " Do you understand these words ?" 
 
 " I only know that they have been translated, ' Peace be 
 with thee, or upon thee.' " 
 
 "How came Gordon Leigh's ring on your hand? Has 
 Tartuffe's Hebrew scheme succeeded so soon and so tho- 
 roughly ?" 
 
 " I do not understand you, Mr. Murray." 
 
 " Madame ma mere proves an admirable ally in this cler- 
 ical match-maker's deft hands, and Gordon's pathway is 
 
162 MT. ELMO. 
 
 widened and weeded. Happy Gordon ! blessed with each 
 able coadjutors !" 
 
 The cold, sarcastic glitter of his eyes wounded and hu- 
 miliated the girl, and her tone was haughty and defiant— 
 
 " You deal in innuendoes which I can not condescend to 
 notice. Mr. Leigh is my friend, and gave me this ring as 
 a birthday present. As your mother advised me to accept 
 it, and indeed placed it on my finger, her sanction should 
 certainly exempt me from your censure." 
 
 " Censure ! Pardon me ! It is no part of my business ; 
 but I happen to know something of gem symbols, and must 
 be allowed to suggest that this selection is scarcely comine 
 ilfaut for a betrothal ring." 
 
 Edna's face crimsoned, and the blood tingled to her fin 
 gers' ends. 
 
 " As it was never intended as such, your carping criticism 
 loses its point." 
 
 He stood with the jewel between his thumb and fore- 
 finger, eyeing her fixedly, and on his handsome features 
 shone a smile, treacherous and chilling as arctic snow- 
 blink. 
 
 "Pliny's injunction to lapidaries to spare the smooth 
 surface of emeralds seems to have been forgotten when 
 this ring was fashioned. It was particularly unkind, nay, 
 cruel to put it on the hand of a woman, who of course must 
 and will follow the example of all her sex, and go out fish- 
 ing most diligently in the matrimonial sea ; for if you have 
 chanced to look into gem history, you will remember what 
 befeU the fish on the coast of Cyprus, where the emerald 
 eyes of the marble lion glared down so mercilessly through 
 the nets, that the fishermen could catch nothing until they 
 removed the jewels that constituted the eyes of the lion. 
 Do you recollect the account ?" 
 
 " No, sir, I never read it." 
 
 " Indeed ! How deplorably your education has been ne- 
 glected ! I thought your adored Dominie Sampson down 
 
ST. ELMO. 163 
 
 yonder at the parsonage was teaching you a pied gions 
 amount ?" 
 
 " Give me my ring, Mr. Murray, and I will leave you." 
 " Shall I not enlighten you on the subject of emeralds ?" 
 " Thank you, sir, I believe not, as what I have already 
 heard does not tempt me to prosecute the subject." 
 " You think me insufferably presumptuous ?" 
 " That is a word which I should scarcely be justified in 
 applying to you." 
 
 " You regard me as meddlesome and tyrannical ?" 
 She shook her head. 
 
 " I generally prefer to receive answers to my questions. 
 Pray, what do you consider me ?" 
 
 She hesitated a moment, and said sadly and gently : 
 " Mr. Murray, is it generous in you to question me thus 
 in your own house ?" 
 
 " I do not claim to be generous, and the world would in 
 dignantly defend me from such an imputation ! Generous ? 
 On the contrary, I declare explicitly that, unlike some 
 ' whited sepulchres' of my acquaintance, I do not intend to 
 stand labeled with patent virtues ! Neither do I parade 
 meztizoth on my doors. I humbly beg you to recollect that 
 I am not a carefully-printed perambulating advertisement 
 of Christianity." 
 
 Raising her face, Edna looked steadfastly at him, and 
 pain, compassion, shuddering dread filled her soft, sad 
 eyes., 
 
 " Well, you are reading me. What is the verdict ?" 
 A long, heavily-drawn sigh was the only response. 
 " Will you be good enough to reply to my questions ?" 
 " No, Mr. Murray. In lieu of perpetual strife and biting 
 words, let there be silence between us. We can not be 
 friends, and it would be painful to wage war here under 
 your roof; consequently, I hope to disarm your hostility by 
 assuring you that in future I shall not attempt to argue 
 with you, shall not pick up the verbal gauntlets you seem 
 
164 ST. ELMO. 
 
 disposed to throw down to me. Surely, sir, if not getearctis, 
 you are at least sufficiently courteous to abstain from at- 
 tacks which you have been notified will not be resisted ?" 
 
 " You wish me to understand that hereafter I, the owner 
 and ruler of this establishment, shall on no account presume 
 to address any remarks to Aaron Hunt's grandchild ?" 
 
 " My words were very clear, Mr. Murray, and I meant 
 what I said, and said what I meant. But one thing I wish 
 to add : while I remain here, if at any time I can aid or 
 serve you, Aaron Hunt's grandchild will most gladly do so. 
 I do not flatter myself that you will ever require or accept 
 my assistance in any thing, nevertheless I would cheerfully 
 render it should occasion arise." 
 
 He bowed, and returned the emerald, and Edna turned to 
 leave the library. 
 
 " Before you go, examine this bauble." 
 
 He took from his vest pocket a velvet case containing a 
 large ring, which he laid in the palm of her hand. 
 
 It was composed of an oval jacinth, with a splendid scar- 
 let fire leaping out as the light shone on it, and the diamonds 
 that clustered around it were very costly and brilliant. 
 There was no inscription, but upon the surface of the 
 jacinth was engraved a female head crowned with oak 
 leaves, among which serpents writhed and hissed, and just 
 beneath the face grinned a dog's head.' The small but ex- 
 quisitely carved human face was savage, sullen, sinister, 
 and fiery rays seemed to dart from the relentless eyes. 
 
 " Is it a Medusa ?" 
 
 " No." 
 
 " It is certainly very beautiful, but I do not recognize the 
 face. Interpret for me." 
 
 " It is Hecate, Brimo, Empusa — all phases of the same 
 malignant power ; and it remains a mere matter of taste 
 which of the titles you select. I call it Hecate." 
 
 " I have never seen you wear it." 
 
 " Tcu never will." 
 
ST. SLMO. 165 
 
 " It is exceedingly beautiful." 
 
 Edna held it toward the grate, flashed the flame nc ,w on 
 tl:.is side, now on that, and handed it back to the owner. 
 
 " Edna, I bought this ring in Naples, intending to ask 
 your acceptance of it, in token of my appreciation of youi 
 care of that little gold key, provided I found you trust 
 worthy. After your pronunciamiento uttered a few minutes 
 since, I presume I may save myself the trouble of offering 
 it to you. Beside, Gordon might object to having his 
 emerald overshadowed by my matchless jacinth. Of course 
 your tender conscience will veto the thought of your wearing 
 it ?" 
 
 " I thank you, Mr. Murray ; the ring is, by far, the most 
 elegant I have ever seen, but I certainly can not accept it." 
 
 "Itithus contra JBacchium /" exclaimed Mr. Murray, with 
 a short, mirthless laugh that made his companion shrink 
 back a few -steps. 
 
 Holding the ring at arm's length above his head, he con- 
 tinued : 
 
 " To the ' infernal flames,' your fit type, I devote you, my 
 costly Queen of Samothrace !" 
 
 Leaning over the grate, he dropped the jewel in the 
 glowing coals. 
 
 " O Mr. Murray ! save it from destruction !'•' 
 
 She seized the tongs and sprang forward, but he put out 
 his arm and held her back. 
 
 " Stand aside, if you please. Cleopatra quaffed liquid 
 pearl in honor of Antony, Nero shivered his precious crys- 
 tal goblets, and Suger pounded up sapphires to color the 
 windows of old St. Denis ! Chacun a son gout ! If I choose 
 to indulge myself in a diamond cremation in honor of my 
 tutelary goddess Brimo, who has the right to expostulate ? 
 True, such costly amusements have been rare since the days 
 of the ' Oyranides' and the ' Seven Seals ' of Hermes Tris- 
 megistus. See what a tawny, angry glare leaps from my 
 royal jacinth ! Old Hecate holds high carnival down there 
 in her congenial flames." 
 
166 ST. ELMO. 
 
 He stood with one arm extended to bar Edna's approach, 
 the other rested on the mantel ; and a laughing, reckless 
 demon looked out of his eyes, which were fastened on the 
 fire. 
 
 Before the orphan could recover from her sorrowful 
 amazement the library door opened, and Henry looked in. 
 
 " Mr. Leigh is in the parlor, and asked for Miss Edna." 
 
 Perplexed, irresolute, and annoyed, Edna stood still, 
 watching the red cOals ; and after a brief silence, Mr. Mur- 
 ray smiled, and turned to look at her. 
 
 " Pray, do not let me detain you, and rest assured that I 
 understand your decree. You have intrenched yourself in 
 impenetrable silence, and hung out your banner, inscribed 
 'noli me tangere.'' "Withdraw your pickets ; I shall attempt 
 neither siege nor escalade. Good morning. Leave my De 
 Guerin on the table ; it will be at your disposal after to- 
 day." 
 
 He stooped to light a cigar, and she walked away to her 
 own room. 
 
 As the door closed behind her, he laughed and reiterated 
 the favorite proverb that often crossed his lips, " Bithu* 
 contra Bacchium / " 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 HE dariing scheme of authorship had seized upon 
 Edna's mind with a tenacity that conquered 
 and expelled all other purposes, and though 
 timidity and a haunting dread of the failure of 
 the experiment prompted her to conceal the matter, even 
 from her beloved j)astor, she pondered it in secret, and 
 bent every faculty to its successful accomplishment. Her 
 veneration for books — the great eleemosynary granaries of 
 auman knowledge to which the world resorts — extended 
 to those who created them ; and her imagination invested 
 authors with peculiar sanctity, as the real hierophants 
 anointed with the chrism of truth. The glittering pinnacle 
 of consecrated and successful authorship seemed to her 
 longing gaze as sublime, and well-nigh as inaccessible,' as 
 the evei-lasting and untrodden Himalayan solitudes appear 
 to some curious child of Thibet or Nej)aul;who, gamboling 
 among pheasants and rhododendrons, shades her dazzled 
 eyes with her hand, and looks up awe-stricken and wonder- 
 ing at the ice-domes and snow-minarets of lonely Deodunga, 
 earth's loftiest and purest altar, nimbused with the dawn- 
 ing and the dying light of the day. There were times 
 when the thought of presenting herself as a candidate for 
 admission into the band of literary exoterics seemed to 
 Edna unpardonably presumptuous, almost sacrilegious, and 
 she shrank back, humbled and abashed ; for writers were 
 teachers, interpreters, expounders, discoverers, or creators — - 
 
168 ST. ELMO. 
 
 and what could she, just stumbling through the alphabet 
 of science and art, hope to donate to her race that would 
 ennoble human motives or elevate aspirations ? Was she, 
 an unknown and inexperienced girl, worthy to be girded 
 with the ephod that draped so royally the Levites of liter- 
 ature ? Had God's own hand set the Urim and Thummira 
 of Genius in her soul ? Above all, was she mitred with the 
 plate of pure gold — " Holiness unto the Lord ?" 
 
 Solemnly and prayerfully she weighed the subject, and 
 having finally resolved to make one attempt, she looked 
 trustingly to heaven for aid, and went vigorously to work. 
 
 To write currents calamo for the mere pastime of author 
 and readers, without aiming to inculcate some regenerative 
 principle, or to photograph some valuable phase of protean 
 truth, was in her estimation ignoble ; for her high standard 
 demanded that all books should be to a certain extent di- 
 dactic, wandering like evangels among the people, and mak- 
 ing some man, woman, or child happier, or wiser, or better — 
 more patient or more hopeful — by their utterances. Be- 
 lieving that every earnest author's mind should prove a 
 mint, where all valuable ores are collected from the rich 
 veins of a universe — are cautiously coined, and thence 
 munificently circulated — she applied herself diligently to 
 the task of gathering from various sources the data re- 
 quired for her projected work : a vindication of the unity 
 of mythologies. The vastness of the cosmic field she was 
 now compelled to traverse, the innumerable ramifications 
 of polytheistic and monotheistic creeds, necessitated un 
 wearied research, as she rent asunder the superstitious vails 
 which various nations and successive epochs had woven be- 
 fore the shining features of truth. To-day peering into the 
 golder Gardens of the Sun at Cuzco; to-morrow clamber 
 ing over Thibet glaciers, to find the mystic lake of Yam- 
 una ; now delighted to recognize in Teoyamiqui (the wife 
 of the Aztec God of War) the unmistakable features of 
 Scandinavian Valkyrias; and now surprised to discover the 
 
ST. ELMO. 169 
 
 Greek Fates sitting under the Norse tree Ygdrasil, deciding 
 the destinies of mortals, and calling themselves Nomas ; she 
 spent her days in pilgrimages to mouldering shrines, and 
 midnight often found her groping in the classic dust of ex- 
 tinct systems. Having once grappled with her theme, she 
 wrestled as obstinately as Jacob for the blessing of a suc- 
 cessful solution, and in order to popularize a subject bris- 
 tling with recondite archaisms and philologic problems, she 
 cast it in the mould of fiction. The information and plea- 
 sure which she had derived from the perusal of Yaughan's 
 delightful Hours with the Mystics, suggested the idea 
 of adopting a similar plan for her own book, and investing 
 it with the additional interest of a complicated plot and 
 more numerous characters. To avoid anachronisms, she 
 endeavored to treat the religions of the world in their chro- 
 nologic sequence, and resorted to the expedient of introduc- 
 ing pagan personages. A fair young priestess of the tem- 
 ple of Neith, in the sacred city of Sais — where people of all 
 climes collected to witness the festival of lamps — becoming 
 skeptical of the miraculous attributes of the statues she had 
 been trained to serve and worship, and impelled by an earnest 
 love of truth to seek a faith that would satisfy her reason and 
 purify her heart, is induced to question minutely the reli- 
 gious tenets of travellers who visited the temple, and thus 
 familiarized herself with all existing creeds and hierarchies. 
 The lore so carefully garnered is finally analyzed, classified, 
 and inscribed on papyrus. The delineation of scenes and 
 sanctuaries in different latitudes, from Lhasa to Copan, 
 gave full exercise to Edna's descriptive power, but imposed 
 much labor in the departments of physical geography and 
 architecture. 
 
 Verily ! an ambitious literary programme for a girl over 
 whose head scarcely eighteen years had hung their dripping 
 drab wintry skies, and pearly summer clouds. 
 
 One March morning, as Edna entered the breakfast-room, 
 she saw unusual gravity printed on Mrs. Murray's face ; and 
 
170 ST - ELMO. 
 
 observing an open letter on the table, conjectured the cause 
 of her changed countenance. A moment after the master 
 came in, and as he seated himself his mother said : 
 
 " St Elmo, your cousin Estelle's letter contains bad news. 
 Her father is dead ; the estate is wretchedly insolvent ; and 
 she is coming to reside with us." 
 
 " Then I am off for Hammerfest and the midnight sun ! 
 Who the deuce invited her I should like to know ?" 
 
 "Remember she is my sister's child; she has no other 
 home, and I am sure it is very natural that she should come 
 to me, her nearest relative, for sympathy and protection." 
 
 " Write to her by return mail that you will gladly allow 
 her three thousand a year, provided she ensconces herself 
 under some other roof than this." 
 
 " Impossible ! I could not wound her so deeply." 
 
 " You imagine that she entertains a most tender and pro- 
 found regard for both of us ?" 
 
 " Certainly, my son ; we have every reason to believe 
 that she does." 
 
 Leaning back in his chair, St. Elmo laughed derisively. 
 
 " I should really enjoy stumbling upon something that 
 would overtax your most marvellous and indefinitely ex- 
 tensible credulity ! When Estelle Harding becomes an in- 
 mate of this house I shall pack my valise, and start to 
 Tromso ! She approaches like Discord, uninvited, armed 
 with an apple or a dagger. I am perfectly willing to share 
 my fortune with -her, but I'll swear I would rather prowl 
 for a month through the plague-stricken district of Con- 
 stantinople than see her domesticated here ! You tried the 
 experiment when she was a child, and we fought and 
 scratched as indefatigably as those two amiable young 
 Theban bullies, who are so often cited as scarecrows for 
 quarrelsome juveniles. Of course we shall renew the 
 battle at sight." 
 
 " But my dear son, there are claims urged by natural 
 svffection which it is impossible to ignore. Poor Estelle 
 
ST. ELMO. 171 
 
 is very desolate, and has a right to our sympat' r ( f and 
 love." 
 
 " Poor Estelle ! HazredipeUv ! The frailties of old 
 Rome survive her virtues and her ruins !" 
 
 Mr. Murray laughed again, beat a tattoo with his fork on 
 the edge of his plate, and, rising, left the room. 
 
 Mrs. Murray looked puzzled and said : 
 
 " Edna, do you know what he meant ? He often amuses 
 himself by mystifying me, and I will not gratify him by 
 asking an explanation." 
 
 " Hceredipetce were legacy-hunters in Rome, where their 
 sycophantic devotion to people of wealth furnished a con- 
 stant theme for satire." 
 
 Mrs. Murray sighed heavily, and the orphan asked : 
 
 " When do you expect your niece ?" 
 
 "Day after to-morrow. I have not seen her for many 
 years, but report says she is very fascinating, and even St. 
 Elmo, who met her in Europe, admits that she is handsome. 
 As you heard him say just now, they formerly quarrelled 
 most outrageously and shamefully, and he took an unac- 
 countable aversion to her ; but I trust all juvenile reminis- 
 cences will vanish when they know each other better. My 
 dear, I have several engagements for to-day, and I must 
 rely upon you to superintend the arrangement of Estelle'a 
 room. She will occupy the one next to yours. See that 
 every thing is in order. You know Hagar is sick, and the 
 other servants are careless." 
 
 Sympathy for Miss Harding's recent and severe affliction 
 prepared Edna's heart to receive her cordially, and the fact 
 that an irreconcilable feud existed between the stranger and 
 St. Elmo, induced the orphan to hope that she might find a 
 congenial companion in the expected visitor. 
 
 On the afternoon of her arrival Edna leaned eagerly for- 
 ward to catch a glimpse of her countenance, and as she 
 threw back her long mourning-vail and received her aunt'a 
 affectionate greeting, the first impression was, "How ex 
 
172 ST. ELMO 
 
 ceedingly handsome — how commanding she, U !" Ba:. a few 
 minutes later, when Mrs. Murray introduced them, and 
 the stranger's keen, bright, restless eyes fell upon the or- 
 phan's face, the latter drew back, involuntarily repelled, 
 and a slight shiver crept over her, for an unerring in 
 stinctive repulsion told her they could never be friends. 
 
 Estelle Harding was no longer young ; years had hard- 
 ened the outline of her features, and imparted a cert^^j 
 staidness or fixedness to her calm countenance, where 
 strong feeling or passionate impulse was never permitted to 
 slip the elegant mask of polished suavity. She was sur- 
 prisingly like Mrs. Murray, but not one line of her face re- 
 sembled her cousin's. Fixing her eyes on Edna, with a cold, 
 almost stern scrutiny more searching than courteous, she 
 said : 
 
 " I was not aware, Aunt Ellen, that you had company in 
 the house." 
 
 " I have no company at present, my dear. Edna resides 
 here. Do you not remember one of my letters in which I 
 mentioned the child, who was injured by the railroad acci- 
 dent ?" 
 
 " True. I expected to see a child, certainly not a wo- 
 man." 
 
 " She seems merely a child to me. But come up to your 
 room ; you must be very much fatigued- by your journey." 
 
 When they left the sitting-room Edna sat down in one 
 corner of the sofa, disappointed and perplexed. 
 
 " She does not like me, that is patent ; and I certainly do 
 net like her. She is handsome and very graceful, and quite 
 heartless. There is no inner light from her soul shining in 
 her eyes ; nothing tender and loving and kind in their 
 clear depths ; they are cold, bright eyes, but not soft, win- 
 ning, womanly eyes. They might, and doubtless would, 
 hold an angry dog in check, but never draw a tired, fretful 
 child to lean its drooping head on her lap. If she really 
 has any feeling, her eyes should be indicted for slander. I 
 
&r. ELMO. 173 
 
 am sony I don't like her, and I am a [raid we never shall 
 be nearer each other than touching our finger-tip" " 
 
 Such was Edna's unsatisfactory conclusion, and dismiss- 
 ing the subject, she picked up a book, and read until the 
 ladies returned and seated themselves around the fire. 
 
 To Mrs. Murray's great chagrin and mortification her son 
 had positively declined going to the depot to meet his 
 cousin, had been absent since breakfast, and proved him 
 self shamefully derelict in the courtesy demanded of him. 
 It was almost dai'k when the quick gallop of his horse an- 
 nounced his return, and, as he passed the window on his 
 way to the stables, Edna noticed a sudden change in Es- 
 telle's countenance. During the quarter of an hour that 
 succeeded, her eyes never wandered from the door, though 
 her head was turned to listen to Mrs. Murray's remarks. 
 Soon after, Mr. Murray's rapid footsteps sounded in the hall, 
 and as he entered she rose and advanced to meet him. 
 He held out his hand, shook hers vigorously, and said, as 
 he dropped it : 
 
 " Mine ancient enemy declare a truce, and quiet my ap- 
 prehensions; for I dreamed last night that, on sight, we 
 flew at each other's throats, and renewed the sanguinary 
 scuffles of our juvenile acquaintance. Most appallingly 
 vivid is my recollection of a certain scar here on my left 
 arm, where you set your pearly teeth some years ago." 
 
 "My dear cousin, as I have had no provocation since 1 
 was separated from you, I believe I have grown harmless 
 and amiable. How very well you look, St. Elmo." 
 
 " Thank you. I should like to return the compliment, but 
 facts forbid. You are thinner than when we dined together 
 in Paris. Are you really in love with that excruciating 
 Brummell of a Count who danced such indefatigable attend- 
 ance upon you ?" 
 
 " To whom do you allude ?" 
 
 " That youth with languishing brown eyes, who parted 
 his ' hyacir.thine tresses in the middle of his head ; whose 
 
174 ST. ELMO. 
 
 moustache required Ehrenberg's strongest gl&ises — aud who 
 absolutely believed that Ristori singled him out of her 
 vast audiences as the most appreciative of her listeners ; 
 who was eternally humming ; Ernani ' and raving about 
 ' Traviata.' Your memory is treacherous — as your con- 
 science ? Well, then, that man, who I once told you re- 
 minded me of what Guilleragues is reported to have said 
 about Pelisson, ' that he abused the permission men have to 
 be ugly.' " 
 
 " Ah ! you mean poor Victor ! He spent the winter in 
 Seville. I had a letter last week." 
 
 " When do you propose to make him my cousin ?" 
 
 " Not until I become an inmate of a lunatic asylum." 
 
 "Poor wretch! If he only had courage to sue you for 
 breach of promise, I would, with pleasure, furnish sufficient 
 testimony to convict you and secure him heavy damages ; 
 for I will swear you played fiancee to perfection. Yom 
 lavish expenditure of affection seemed to me altogether un- 
 called for, considering the fact that the fish already floun- 
 dered at your feet." 
 
 The reminiscence evidently annoyed her, though her lips 
 smiled, and Edna saw that, while his words were pointed 
 with a sarcasm lost upon herself, it was fully appreciated by 
 his cousin. 
 
 " St. Elmo, I am sorry to see that you have not improved 
 one iota ; that all your wickedness clings to you like Sin- 
 bad's burden." 
 
 Standing at his side, she put her hand on his shoulder. 
 
 As he looked down at her, his lips curled. 
 
 " Nevertheless, Estelle, I find a pale ghost of pity for you 
 wandering up and down what was once my heart. After 
 the glorious intoxication of Parisian life, how can you en- 
 dure the tedium of this dullest of hum-drum — this most 
 moral and stupid of all country towns ? Little gossip, few 
 flirtations, neither beaux esprits nor bons vivauts — what will 
 become of you ? Now, whatever amusement, edification, oi 
 
ST. ELMO. 175 
 
 warning you may be able to extract from i.i\ society, 1 
 here beg permission to express the hope that you will appro- 
 priate unsparingly. I shall, with exemplary hospitality, 
 dedicate myself to your service — shall try to make amends 
 for voire cher Victor's absence, and solemnly promise to do 
 every thing in my power to assist you in strangling time, 
 except parting my hair in the middle of my head, and mak- 
 ing love to you. With these stipulated reservations, com- 
 mand me ad libitum." 
 
 Her face flushed slightly, she withdrew her hand and sat 
 down. 
 
 Taking his favorite position on the rug', with one hand 
 thrust into his pocket and the other dallying with his 
 watch-chain, Mr. Murray continued : 
 
 " Entire honesty on my part, and a pardonable and amia- 
 ble weakness for descanting on the charms, of my native vil- 
 lage, compel me to assure you, that notwithstanding the 
 deprivation of opera and theatre, bed masque, and the Bois 
 de Boulogne, I believe you will be surprised to find that 
 the tone of society here is quite up to the lofty standard of 
 the ' Society of Arcueil,' or even the requirements of the 
 Academy of Sciences. Our pastors are erudite as Abelard, 
 and rigid as Trappists ; our young ladies are learned as 
 that ancient blue-stocking daughter of Pythagoras, and aa 
 pious as St. Salvia, who never washed her face. For in- 
 stance, girls yet in their teens are much better acquainted 
 with Hebrew than Miriam Avas,when she sung it on the 
 shore of the Red Sea, (where, by the by, Talmudic tradi- 
 tion says Pharaoh was not drowned,) and they will vehe- 
 mently contend for the superiority of the Targum of Onke- 
 los over that on the Hagiographa,- ascribed to one-eyed 
 Joseph of Sora ! You look incredulous, my fair cousin. 
 Nay, permit me to complete the inventory of the acquire- 
 ments of your future companions. They quote fluently 
 from the Megilloth, and will entertain you by fighting over 
 again the battle of the school of Hillel versus the school of 
 
176 ST. ELMO. 
 
 Shamniai ! Their attainments in philology reflect (lib- 
 credit on the superficiality of Max Mtlller ; and if an mci 
 dental allusion is made to archaeology, lo ! they bombard 
 you with a broadside of authorities, and recondite termin- 
 ology that would absolutely make the hair of Lepsius and 
 Champollion stand on end. I assure you the savants of 
 the Old World would catch their breath with envious 
 amazement, if they could only enjoy the advantage of the 
 conversation of these orthodox and erudite refugees from 
 the nursery ! The unfortunate men of this community are 
 kept in pitiable terror lest they commit an anachronism, 
 and if, after a careful reconnoissance of the slippery ground, 
 they tremblingly venture an anecdote of Selwyn or Hood, 
 or Beaumarchais, they are invariably driven back in confu- 
 sion by the inquiry, if they remember this or that bon m,ot 
 uttered at the court of Aurungzebe or of one of the early 
 Incas ! Ah ! would I were Moliere to repaint Les Pre- 
 cieuses Ridicules /" 
 
 Although his eyes had never once wandered from his 
 cousin's face, toward the corner where Edna sat embroider- 
 ing some mats, she felt the blood burning in her cheeks, and 
 forced herself to look up. At that moment, as he stood in 
 the soft glow of the firelight, he was handsomer than she 
 had ever seen him ; and when he glanced swiftly over his 
 shoulder to mark the effect of his words, their eyes met, 
 and she smiled involuntarily. 
 
 " For shame, St. Elmo ! I will have you presented by 
 the grand-jury of this county for wholesale defamation of 
 the inhabitants thereof," said his mother, shaking her finger 
 at him. 
 
 Estelle laughed and shrugged her shoulders. 
 
 " My poor cousin ! how I pity you, and the remainder of 
 the men here, surrounded by such a formidable coterie of 
 blues." 
 
 "Believe me, even their shadows are as blue as those 
 which I have seen thrown upon the snow of Eyriks Jokull, 
 
ST. ELMO. 17'/ 
 
 in Iceland, where I would have sworn that every shade cast 
 on the mountain was a blot of indigo. Sometimes I 
 seriously contemplate erecting an observatory and telescope, 
 in order to sweep our sky and render visible what I arc 
 convinced exist there undiscovered — some of those deej 
 blue nebulae which Sir John Herschel found in the southern 
 hemisphere! If the astronomical conjecture be correct, 
 concerning the possibility of a galaxy of blue stars, a huge 
 cluster hangs in this neighborhood and furnishes an ex- 
 planation of the color of the women." 
 
 " Henceforth, St. Elmo, the sole study of my life shall 
 be to forget my alphabet. Miss Earl, do you understand 
 Hebrew ?" 
 
 " Oh ! no ; I have only begun to study it." 
 " Estelle, it is the popular and fashionable amusement 
 here. Young ladies and young gentlemen form classes for 
 mutual aid and ' mutual admiration,' while they clasp 
 hands over the Masora. If Lord Brougham, and other 
 members of the ' Society for the Diffusion of Useful Know- 
 ledge,' could only have been induced to investigate the 
 intellectual status of the 'rising generation' of our village, 
 there is little room to doubt that, as they are not deemed 
 advocates for works of supererogation, they would long 
 ago have appreciated the expediency of disbanding said 
 society. I imagine Tennyson is a clairvoyant, and was 
 looking at the young people of this vicinage, when he 
 
 wrote : 
 
 4 Knowledge comes, but wisdom lingers.' 
 
 Not even egoistic infallible ' Brain Town' — that self-com- 
 placent and pretentious ' Hub,' can show a more ambitious 
 covey of literary fledgelings !" 
 
 " Your random firing seems to produce no confusion on 
 the part of your game," answered his cousin, withdraw- 
 ing her gaze from Edna's tranquil features, over which a 
 half smile stil. lingered. 
 
 He did not seem to hear her words, but his eyebrow9 
 
178 ST. ELMO. 
 
 thickened, as he drew a couple of letters from Lis pockel 
 and looked at the superscription. 
 
 Giving one to his mother, who sat looking over a news- 
 paper, he crossed the room and silently laid the other or? 
 Edna's lap. 
 
 It was post-marked in a distant city and directed in a 
 gentleman's large, round business hand-writing. The girFa 
 face flushed with pleasure as she broke the seal, glanced at 
 the signature, and without pausing for a perusal hastily put 
 the letter into her pocket. 
 
 " Who can be writing to you, Edna ?" asked Mrs. Mur- 
 ray, when she had finished reading her own letter. 
 
 " Oh ! doubtless some Syrian scribe has indited a Chaldee 
 billet-doux, which she can not spell out without the friendly 
 aid of dictionary and grammar. Permit her to withdraw 
 and decipher it. Meantime here comes Henry to announce 
 dinner, and a plate of soup will strengthen her for her task." 
 
 Mr. Murray offered his arm to his cousin, and during din- 
 ner he talked constantly, rapidly, brilliantly of men and 
 things abroad ; now hurling a sarcasm at Estelle's head, 
 now laughing at his mother's expostulations, and studiously 
 avoiding any further notice of Edna, who was never so 
 thoroughly at ease as when he seemed to forget her 
 presence. 
 
 Estelle sat at his right hand, and suddenly refilling his 
 glass with bubbling champagne, he leaned over and whis- 
 pered a few words in her ear that brought a look of surprise 
 and pleasure into her eyes. Edna only saw the expressior 
 of his face, and the tenderness, the pleading written there 
 astonished and puzzled her. The next moment they rose 
 from the table, and as Mr. Murray drew his cousin's hand 
 under his arm, Edna hurried away to her own room. 
 
 Among the numerous magazines to which St. Elmo sub- 
 scribed,was one renowned for the lofty tone of its articles 
 and the asperity of its carping criticisms, and this periodical 
 Edna always singled out and read with avidity. 
 
ST. ELMO. 179 
 
 The name of the editor swung in terrorum in the imagina- 
 tion of all humble authorlings, and had become a synonym 
 for merciless critical excoriation. 
 
 To this literary Fouquier Tinville, the orphan had daring- 
 ly written some weeks before, stating her determination to 
 attempt a book, and asking permission to submit the first 
 chapter to his searching inspection. She wrote that she 
 expected him |to find faults — he always did ; and she pre- 
 ferred that her work should be roughly handled by him, 
 rather than patted and smeared with faint praise by men of 
 inferior critical astuteness. 
 
 The anxiously expected reply had come at last, and as 
 she locked her door and sat down to read it, she trembled 
 from head to foot. In the centre of a handsome sheet of 
 tinted paper she found these lines. 
 
 " Madam : In reply to your very extraordinary request 
 I have the honor to inform you, that my time is so entirely 
 consumed by necessary and important claims, that I find no 
 leisure at my command for the examination of the em- 
 bryonic chapter of a contemplated book. I am, madam, 
 Very respectfully, 
 
 Douglass G. Manning." 
 
 Tears of disappointment filled her eyes and for a moment 
 she bit her, lip with uncontrolled vexation; then refolding 
 the letter, she put it in a drawer of her desk, and said sor- 
 rowfully : 
 
 " I certainly had no right to expect any thing more polite 
 from him. He snubs even his popular contributors, and of 
 course he would not be particularly courteous to an un- 
 known scribbler. Perhaps some day I may make him re- 
 gret that letter ; and such a triumph will more than com- 
 pensate for this mortification. One might think that all 
 literary people, editors, authors, reviewers, would sympa- 
 thize with each other, and stretch out their hands to aid 
 one another ; but it seems there is less free-masonry among 
 
180 ST. ELMO. 
 
 literati than other guilds. They wage an internee hit wai 
 among themselves, though it certainly can not he teimed 
 1 civil strife,' judging from Mr. Douglass Manning's letter." 
 
 Chagrined and perplexed she walked up and down the 
 room, wondering what step would be most expedient in the 
 present state of affairs ; and trying to persuade herself that 
 she ought to consult Mr. Hammond. But she wished to 
 surprise him, to hear his impartial opinion of a printed 
 article which he could not suspect that she had written, 
 and finally she resolved to say nothing to any one, to work 
 on in silence, relying only upon herself. "With this deter- 
 mination she sat down before her desk, opened the ms. oi 
 her book, and very soon became absorbed in writing the 
 second chapter. Before she had finished even the first sen- 
 tence a hasty rap summoned her to the door. 
 
 She opened it, and found Mr. Murray standing inthehall, 
 with a candle in his hand. 
 
 " Where is that volume of chess problems which you had 
 last week?" 
 
 " It is here, sir." 
 
 She took it from the table, and as she approached him, 
 Mr. Murray held the light close to her countenance, and 
 gave her one of those keen looks, which always reminded 
 her of the descriptions of the scrutiny of the Council of Ten, 
 in the days when " lions' mouths " grinned at the street- 
 corners in Venice. 
 
 Something in the curious expression of his face, and the 
 evident satisfaction which he derived from his hasty inves- 
 tigation, told Edna that the book was a mere pretext. She 
 drew back and asked : 
 
 " Have I any other book that you need ?". 
 
 " No ; I have all I came for." 
 
 Smiling half mischievously, half maliciously, he turned 
 and left her. 
 
 " I wonder what he saw in my face that amused him ?' 
 
 She walked up to the bureau and examined her own 
 
ST. ELMO. 181 
 
 tniage in the mirror ; and there, on her cheeks> were the 
 unmistakable traces of the tears of vexation and disappoint 
 nient. 
 
 " At least he can have no idea of the cause, and that is 
 some comfort, for he is too honorable to open my letters." 
 
 But just here a doubt flashed into her mind, and ren 
 dered her restless. 
 
 " How do I know that he is honorable ? Can any man 
 be worthy of trust who holds nothing sacred, and sneers at 
 all religions ? No ; he has no conscience ; and yet " 
 
 She sighed and went back to her ms., and though for 
 a while St. Elmo Murray's mocking eyes seemed to glitter 
 on the pages, her thoughts ere long were anchored once 
 more, with the olive-crowned priestess in the temple at 
 Sais. 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 F the seers of geology are correct in assuming 
 that the age of the human race is coincident 
 with that of the alluvial stratum, from eighty to 
 one hundred centuries, are not domestic tradi- 
 tions and household customs the great arteries in which beats 
 the social life of humanity, and which veining all epochs, 
 link the race in homogeneity ? Roman women suffered no 
 first day of May to pass without celebrating the festival 
 of Bona Dea y and two thousaud years later, girls who 
 know as little of the manners and customs of ancient Italy, 
 as of the municipal regulations of fabulous "Manoa," lie 
 down to sleep on the last day of April, and kissing the fond, 
 maternal face that bends above their pillows, eagerly repeat : 
 
 " Tou must wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear ; 
 To-morrow 'ill be the happiest time of all the glad new-year ; 
 Of all the glad new-year, mother, the maddest, merriest day, 
 For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May." 
 
 For a fortnight Edna had been busily engaged in writing 
 colloquies and speeches for the Sabbath-school children of 
 the village, and in attending the rehearsals for the perfec- 
 tion of the various parts. Assisted by Mr. Hammond and 
 tie ladies of his congregation, she had prepared a varied 
 programme, and was almost as much interested in the suc- 
 cess of the youthful orators, as the superintendent of the 
 school, or the parents of the children. The day was pro- 
 pitious —clear, balmy, all that could be asked of the blue- 
 
ST. ELMO. 183 
 
 eyed month — and as the festival was to be celebrated in a 
 beautiful grove of elms and chestnuts, almost in sight of Le 
 Bocage, Edna went over very early to aid in arranging 
 the tables, decking the platforms with flowers, and training 
 one juvenile Demosthenes, whose elocution was as unprom- 
 ising as that of his Greek model. 
 
 Despite her patient teachings, this boy's awkwardness 
 threatened to spoil every thing, and as she watched the 
 nervous wringing of his hands and desperate shuffling of 
 his feet, she was tempted to give him up in despair. The 
 dew hung heavily on grass and foliage, and the matin 
 carol of the birds still swelled through the leafy aisles of the 
 grove, when she took the trembling boy to a secluded spot, 
 directed him to stand on a mossy log, where two lizards 
 lay blinking, and repeat his speech. 
 
 He stammered most unsatisfactorily through it, and, in- 
 tent on his improvement, Edna climbed upon a stump and 
 delivered the speech for him, gesticulating and emphasizing 
 just as she wished him to do. As the : last words of the 
 peroration passed her lips, and while she stood on the 
 stump, a sudden clapping of hands startled her, and Gor- 
 don Leigh's cheerful voice exclaimed, " Encore ! Encore ! 
 Since the days of Hypatia you have not had your equal 
 among female elocutionists. I would not have missed it for 
 any consideration, so pray forgive me for eavesdropping." 
 
 He came forward, held out his hand, and added : " Allow 
 me to assist you in dismounting from your temporary ros- 
 trum, whence you bear your ' blushing honors thick upon 
 you.' Jamie, do you think you can do as well as Miss 
 Edna when your time comes ?" 
 
 " Oh ! no, sir ; but I will try not to make her ashamed of 
 me." 
 
 He snatched his hat from the log and ran ofF, leaving the 
 friends to walk back more leisurely to the spot selected for the 
 tables. Edna had been too much disconcerted by his unex- 
 pected appearance, to utter a word until now, and her tone 
 
184 ST. ELMO. 
 
 expressed annoyance as she said, "I am very sorry you 
 interrupted me, for Jamie will make an ignominious 
 failure. Have you nothing better to do than stray about 
 the woods like a satyr ?" 
 
 " I am quite willing to be satyrized even by you on thi>» 
 occasion ; for what man, whose blood is not curdled by cyni- 
 cism, can prefer to spend May-day among musty law books 
 and red tape, when he has the alternative of listening to 
 such declamation as you favored me with just now, or of 
 participating in the sports of one hundred happy children ? 
 Beside, my good ' familiar,' or rather my sortes Praznesti- 
 nee, told me that I should find you here, and I wanted to 
 see you before the company assembled ; why have you so 
 pertinaciously avoided me of late ?" 
 
 They stood close to each other in the shade of the elms, 
 and Gordon thought that never before had she looked so 
 beautiful, as the mild perfumed breeze stirred the folds of 
 her white dress, and fluttered the blue ribbons that looped 
 her hair and girdled her waist. 
 
 Just at that instant, ere she could reply, a rustling of the 
 undergrowth arrested further conversation, and Mr. Murray 
 stepped out of the adjoining thicket, with his gun in his 
 hand, and his grim pet Ali at his heels. Whatever sur- 
 prise he may have felt, his countenance certainly betrayed 
 none, as he lifted his hat and said : 
 
 "Good morning, Leigh. I shall not intrude upon the 
 Sanhedrim, on which I have happened to stumble, longer 
 than is necessary to ask if you are so fortunate as to have a 
 match with you ? I find my case empty." 
 
 Mr Leigh took a match from his pocket, and while Mr. 
 Murray lighted his cigar,his eyes rested for an instant only 
 on Edna's flushed face. 
 
 "Are you not coming to the children's celebration?" 
 asked Gordon. 
 
 " No, indeed ! I own that I am as lazy as a Turk ; but 
 while I am constitutionally and habitually opposed to labor, 
 
ST. ELMO. 185 
 
 I swear I should prefer to plough or break stones till sun 
 down, sooner than listen to all the rant a:id fustian that 
 spectators will be called on to endure this morning. I have 
 not sufficient courage to remain and witness what would 
 certainly recall ' the manner of Bombastes Furioso making 
 love to Distaffina !' Will you have a cigar ? Good-morn- 
 ing." 
 
 He lifted his hat, shouldered his gun, and calling to hia 
 dog, disappeared among the thick undergrowth. 
 
 " What an incorrigible savage !" muttered Mr. Leigh, 
 replacing the match-case in his pocket. 
 
 His companion made no answer and was hurrying on, 
 but he caught her dress and detained her. 
 
 " Do not go unul you have heard what I have to say to 
 you. More than once you have denied me an opportunity 
 of expressing what you must long ago have suspected. 
 Edna, you know very well that I love you better than 
 every thing else — that I have loved you from the first day 
 of our acquaintance ; and I have come to tell you that my 
 happiness is in your dear little hands ; that my future will 
 be joyless unless you share it; that the one darling hope 
 of my life is to call you my wife. Do not draw your hand 
 from mine ! Dear Edna, let me keep it always. Do I mis- 
 take your feelings when I hope that you return my affec- 
 tion ?" 
 
 " You entirely mistake them, Mr. Leigh, in supposing 
 that you can ever be more to me than a very dear and 
 valued friend. It grieves me very much to be forced to 
 give you pain or cause you disappointment ; but I should 
 wrong you even more than myself, were I to leave you in 
 doubt concerning my feeling toward you. I like your so- 
 ciety, I admire your many noble qualities, and you have my 
 entire confidence and highest esteem ; but it is impossible 
 that I can ever be your wife." 
 
 " Why impossible ?" 
 
 " Because I never could love you as I think I ought to 
 love the man I marry.' 
 
186 8T - ELMO. 
 
 " My dear Edna, answer one question candidly, Do yea 
 love any one else better than you love me ?" 
 
 " No, Mr. Leigh." 
 
 " Does Mr. Murray stand between your heart and mine ?'' 
 
 " Oh ! do, Mr. Leigh." 
 
 " Then I will not yield the hope of winning your love. 
 If your heart is free, I will have it all my own one day ! 
 O Edna ! why can you not love me ? I would make you 
 very happy. My darling's home should possess all that 
 fortune and devoted affection could supply ; not one wish 
 should remain ungratified." 
 
 " I am able to earn a home ; I do not intend to marry 
 for one." 
 
 " Ah ! your pride is your only fault, and it will cause us 
 both much suffering, I fear. Edna, I know how sensitive 
 you are, and how deeply your delicacy has been wounded 
 by the malicious meddling of ill-mannered gossips. I know 
 why you abandoned your Hebrew recitations, and a wish 
 to spare your feelings alone prevented me from punishing 
 certain scandal-mongers as they deserved. But, dearest, 
 do not visit their offences upon me ! Because they dared 
 ascribe their own ignoble motives to you, do not lock your 
 heart against me and refuse me the privilege of making 
 your life happy." 
 
 " Mr. Leigh, you are not necessary to my happiness. 
 While our tastes are in many respects congenial, and it is 
 pleasant to be with you occasionally, it would not cause 
 me any deep grief if I were never to see you again." 
 
 " O Edna! you are cruel ! unlike yourself!" 
 
 " Forgive me, sir, if I seem so, and believe me when I 
 assure you that it pains me more to say it than you to hear 
 it. No woman should marry a man whose affection and 
 society are not absolutely essential to her peace of mind 
 and heart. Applying this test to you, I find that mine is 
 in no degree dependent on you ; and though you have no 
 warmer friend, I must tell you it is utterly useless for you 
 
ST. ELMO. 137 
 
 to hope that I shall ever love you as you wish. Mr. Leigh, 
 I regret that I can not ; and if my heart were only puppet 
 of my will, I would try to reciprocate your affection, be- 
 cause I appreciate so fully and so gratefully all that you 
 generously offer me. To-day you stretch out your hand to 
 a poor girl, of unknown parentage, reared by charity— a 
 girl considered by your family and friends an obscure in- 
 terloper in aristocratic circles, and with a noble magna- 
 nimity, for which I shall thank you always, you say, Come, 
 take my name, share my fortune, wrap yourself in my love, 
 and be happy ! I will give you a lofty position in society, 
 whence you can look down on those who sneer at your pov- 
 erty and lineage. O Mr. Leigh ! God knows I wish I loved 
 you as you deserve ! Ambition and gratitude alike plead 
 for you ; but it is impossible that I could ever consent to 
 be your wife." 
 
 Her eyes were full of tears as she looked in his handsome 
 face, hitherto so bright and genial, now clouded and sad- 
 dened by a bitter disappointment ; and suddenly catching 
 both his hands in hers, she stooped and pressed her lips to 
 them. 
 
 "Although you refuse to encourage, you can not crush 
 the hope that my affection will, after a while, win yours in 
 return. You are very young, and as yet scarcely' know 
 your own heart, and unshaken constancy on my part will 
 plead for me in coming years. I will be patient, and as 
 long as you are Edna Earl — as long as you remain mistress 
 of your own heart — I shall cling fondly to the only hope 
 that gladdens my future. Over my feelings you have no 
 control ; you may refuse me your hand — that is your right 
 — but while I shall abstain from demonstrations of affection 
 I shall certainly cherish the hope of possessing it. Mean- 
 time, permit me to ask whether you still contemplate leav- 
 ing Mrs. Murray's house ? Miss Harding told my sister 
 yesterday that in a few months you would obtain a situa- 
 tion as governess or teacher in a school." 
 
188 ST. ELMO. 
 
 " Such is certainly my intention ; but I am at a loss to 
 conjecture how Miss Harding obtained her information, as 
 the matter has not been alluded to since her arrival." 
 
 " I trust you will pardon the liberty I take, in warning 
 you to be exceedingly circumspect in your intercourse with 
 her, for I have reason to believe that her sentiments toward 
 you are not so friendly as might be desired." 
 
 " Thank you, Mr. Leigh. I am aware of her antipathy, 
 though of its cause I am ignorant ; and our intercourse ia 
 limited to the salutations of the day, and the courtesies of 
 the table." 
 
 Drawing from her finger the emerald which had oc- 
 casioned so many disquieting reflections, Edna continu- 
 ed : 
 
 " You must allow me to retiirn the ring, which I have 
 hitherto worn as a token of friendship, and which I can not 
 consent to retain any longer. ' Peace be with you,' dear 
 friend, is the earnest prayer of my heart. Our paths in life 
 will soon diverge so widely that we shall probably see 
 each other rarely ; but none of your friends will rejoice 
 more sincerely than I to hear of your happiness and pros- 
 perity, for no one else has such cause to hold you in grate- 
 ful remembrance. Good-by, Mr. Leigh. Think of me here- 
 after only as a friend." 
 
 She gave him both hands for a minute, left the ring in 
 his palm, and, with tears in her eyes, went back to the 
 tables and platforms. 
 
 Very rapidly, chattering groups of happy children col- 
 lected in the grove ; red-cheeked boys clad in white linen 
 suits, with new straw hats belted with black, and fair- 
 browed girls robed in spotless muslin, garlanded with 
 flowers, and bright with rosy badges. Sparkling eyes, 
 laughing lips, sweet, mirthful, eager voices, and shadowless 
 hearts. Ah ! that May-day could stretch from the fairy 
 tropic-land of childhood to the Arctic zone of age, where 
 snows fall chilling and desolate, drifting over the dead but 
 
ST. ELMO. 189 
 
 unlmried hopes which the great stream i>f tin e bears and 
 buffets on its broad, swift surface. 
 
 The celebration was a complete success ; even awkward 
 Jamie acquitted himself with more ease and grace than his 
 friends had dared to hope. Speeches and songs were 
 warmly applauded, proud parents watched their merry 
 darlings with eyes that brimmed with tenderness ; and the 
 heart of Semiramis never throbbed more triumphantly than 
 that of the delighted young Queen of the May, who would 
 not have exchanged her floral crown for all the jewels that 
 glittered in the diadem of the Assyrian sovereign. 
 
 Late in the evening of that festal day Mr. Hammond sat 
 alone on the portico of the old-fashioned parsonage. The 
 full moon rising over the arched windows of the neighbor- 
 ing church, shone on the marble monuments that marked 
 the rows of graves ; and the golden beams stealing through 
 the thick vines which clustered around the wooden columns, 
 broidered in glittering arabesque the polished floor at the 
 old man's feet. 
 
 That solemn, mysterious silence which nature reverently 
 folds like a velvet pall over the bier of the pale dead day, 
 when the sky is 
 
 " Filling more and more with crystal light, 
 As pensive evening deepens into night," 
 
 was now hushing the hum and stir of the village ; and only 
 the occasional far-off bark of a dog, and the clear, sweet, 
 vesper-song of a mocking-bird, swinging in the myrtle tree, 
 broke the repose so soothing after the bustle of the day. 
 To labor and to pray from dawn till dusk is the sole legacy 
 which sin-stained man brought through the naming gate 
 of Eden, and, in the gray gloaming, mother Earth stretches 
 her vast hands tenderly over her drooping, toil-spent child- 
 ren, and mercifully murmurs nunc dimittis. 
 
 Close to the minister's arm-chair stood a small table 
 covered with a snowy cloth, on which was placed the even 
 
190 ST. ELMO 
 
 ing meal, consisting of strawberries, honey, bread, Dutter, 
 and milk. At his feet lay the white cat, bathed in moon- 
 shine, and playing with a fragrant spray of honeysuckle 
 which trailed within reach of her paws, and swung to and 
 fro, like a spicy censer, as the soft breeze stole up from the 
 starry south. The supper was untasted, the old man's sil- 
 vered head leaned wearily on his shrunken hand, and 
 through a tearful mist his mild eyes looked toward the 
 churchyard, where gleamed the monumental shafts that 
 guarded his mouldering household idols, his white-robed, 
 darling dead. 
 
 His past was a wide, fair, fruitful field of hallowed labor 
 bounteous with promise for that prophetic harvest whereof 
 God's angels are reapers ; and his future, whose near hori- 
 zon was already rimmed with the light of eternity, was 
 full of that blessed ' peace which passeth all understanding.' 
 Yet to-night, precious reminiscences laid their soft mes- 
 meric fingers on his heart, and before him, all unbidden, 
 floated visions of other May-days, long, long ago, when the 
 queen of his boyish affections had worn her crown of flow- 
 ers ; and many, many years later, when, as the queen of his 
 home, and the proud mother of his children, she had stood 
 with her quivering hand nestled in his, listening breath- 
 lessly to the May-day speech of their golden - haired 
 daughter. 
 
 " Why does the sea of thought thus backward roll ? 
 
 Memory's the breeze that through the cordage raves, 
 And ever drives us on some homeward shoal, 
 
 As if she loved the melancholy waves 
 That, murmuring shoreward, break o'er a reef of graves." 
 
 The song of the mocking-bird still rang from the downy 
 cradle of myrtle blossoms, and a whip-poor-will answered 
 from a cedar in the church-yard, when the slamming of the 
 parsonage gate startled the shy thrush that slept in the 
 vines that overarched it, and Mr. Leigh came slowly up the 
 walk, which was lined with purple and white lilies whose 
 
ST. ELMO. 191 
 
 loveliness, undiminished by the weai o^ centuries, still! 
 rivaled the glory of Solomon. 
 
 As he ascended the steps and removed his hat,the pastor 
 rose and placed a chair for him near his own. 
 
 " Good evening, Gordon. Where did you immure your 
 self all day ? I expected to find you taking part in the 
 children's festival, and hunted for you in the crowd." 
 
 " I expected to attend, hut this morning something oc- 
 curred which unfitted me for enjoyment of any kind ; con- 
 sequently I thought it best to keep myself and my moodi- 
 ness out of sight." 
 
 " I trust nothing serious has happened ?" 
 
 " Yes, something that threatens to blast all my hopes, 
 and make my life one great disappointment. Has not Edna 
 told you?" 
 
 "She has told me nothing relative to yourself, but I 
 noticed that she was depressed and grieved about some- 
 thing. She was abstracted and restless, and went home 
 very early, pleading fatigue and headache." 
 
 " I wish I had a shadow of hope that her heart ached also ! 
 Mr. Hammond, I am very wretched, and have come to you 
 for sympathy and counsel. Of course you have seen for a 
 long time that I loved her very devotedly, that I intended 
 if possible to make her my wife. Although she was very 
 shy and guarded, and never gave me any reason to believe 
 she returned my affection, I thought — I hoped she would 
 not reject me, and I admired her even more because of her 
 reticence, for I could not value a love which I knew was 
 mine unasked. To-day I mentioned the subject to her, told 
 her how entirely my heart^was hers, offered her my hand 
 and fortune, and was refused most decidedly. Her manner 
 more than her words distressed and discouraged me. She 
 showed so plainly that she felt only friendship for me, and 
 entertained only regret for the pain she gave me. She waa 
 kind and delicate, but oh ! so crushingly positive ! I saw 
 that I had no more place in her heart than that whip-poor- 
 
192 ST. ELMO. 
 
 will in the cedars yonder. And yet I shall net give her up \ 
 while I live I will cling to the hope that I may finally win 
 her. Thousands of women have rejected a man again and 
 again and at last yielded and accepted him ; and I do not 
 believe Edna can withstand the devotion of a lifetime." 
 
 "Do not deceive youi'self, Gordon. It is true many 
 women are flattered by a man's perseverance, their vanity is 
 gratified. They first reproach themselves for the suffering 
 they inflict, then gratitude for constancy comes to plead for 
 the inconsolable suitor, and at last they persuade themselves 
 that such devotion can not fail to make them happy. Such 
 a woman Edna is not, and if I have correctly understood 
 her character, never can be. I sympathize with you, Gor- 
 don, and it is because I love • you so sincerely that I warn 
 you against a hope destined to cheat you." 
 
 " But she admitted that she loved no one else, and I can 
 see no reason why, after a while, she may not give me 
 her heart." 
 
 "I have watched her for years. I think I know her 
 nature better than any other human being, and I tell you, 
 Edna Earl will never coax and persuade herself to marry any 
 man, no matter what his position and endowments may be. 
 She is not a dejjendent woman ; the circumstances of her 
 life have forced her to dispense with companionship, she is 
 sufficient for herself; and while she loves her friends warmly 
 and tenderly, she feels the need of no one. If she ever 
 marries, it will not be from gratitude for devotion, but be- 
 cause she has learned to love, almost against her will, some 
 strong, vigorous thinker, some man whose will and intellect 
 master hers, who compels her heai't's homage, and without 
 whose society she can not persuade herself to live." 
 
 " And why may I not hope that such will, one day, be 
 my good fortune ?" 
 
 For a few minutes Mr. Hammond was silent, walking up 
 and down the wide portico ; and when he resumed his seat, 
 he laid his hand affectionately on the young man's should esc, 
 saying 
 
ST. ELMO. 193 
 
 " My dear Gordon, your happiness as well as hers is very 
 dear to me. I love you both, and you will, you must for- 
 give me if what I am about to say should wound or mortify 
 you. Knowing you both as I do, and wishing to save you 
 future disappointment, I should, even were you my own 
 son, certainly tell you, Gordon, you will never be Edna's 
 husband, because intellectually she is your superior. She 
 feels this, and will not marry one to Whose mind her own 
 does not bow in reverence. To rule the man she married 
 would make her miserable, and she could only find happi- 
 ness in being ruled by an intellect to which she looked up 
 admiringly. I know that many very gifted women have 
 married their inferiors, but Edna is peculiar, and in some 
 respects totally unlike any other woman whose character I 
 have carefully studied. Gordon, you are not offended with 
 me ?" 
 
 Mr. Leigh put out his hand, grasped that of his compan- 
 ion, and his voice was marked by unwonted tremor as he 
 answered : 
 
 " You pain and humiliate me beyond expression, but 1 
 could never be offended at words which I am obliged to 
 feel are dictated by genuine affection. Mr. Hammond, 
 might not years of thought and study remove the obstacle 
 to which you allude ? Can I not acquire all that you deem 
 requisite? I would dedicate my life to the attainment of 
 knowledge, to the improvement of my faculties." 
 
 "Erudition would not satisfy her. Do you suppose she 
 could wed a mere walking encyclopaedia ? She is naturally 
 more gifted than you are, and, unfortunately for you, she 
 discovered the fact when you were studying together." 
 
 " But, sir, women listen to the promptings of heart much 
 oftener than to the cold, stern dictates of reason." 
 
 " Very true, Gordon ; but her heart declares against 
 vou." 
 
 " Do you know any one whom you regard as fully wor- 
 hy of her — any one who will probably win her ?" 
 
194 ST - HLZ10. 
 
 " I know no man whose noble, generous neart -enders 
 Lim so worthy of her as yourself; and if sne could only 
 love you as you deserve, I should be rejoiced ; jut that 1 
 believe to be impossible." 
 
 " Do you know how soon she expects to leave Le Bocage." 
 
 " Probably about the close of the year." 
 
 " I can not bear to think of her as going out among stran- 
 gers — being buffeted by the world, while she toils to earn a 
 maintenance. It is inexpressibly bitter for me to reflect, 
 that the girl whom I love above every thing upon earth, 
 who would preside so gracefully, so elegantly over my home, 
 and make my life so proud and happy, should prefer to 
 shut herself up in a school-room, and wear out her life in 
 teaching fretful, spoiled, trying children ! O Mr. Ham- 
 mond ! can you not prevail upon her to abandon this scheme ? 
 Think what a complete sacrifice i* will be." 
 
 " If she feels that the hand of duty points out this des- 
 tiny as hers, I shall not attempt to dissuade her ; for peace 
 of mind and heart is found nowhere, save in accordance 
 with the dictates of conscience and judgment. Since Miss 
 Harding's arrival at Le Bocage, I fear Edna will realize 
 rapidly that she is no longer needed as a companion by 
 Mrs. Murray, and her proud spirit will rebel against the 
 surveillance to which I apprehend she is already subjected. 
 She has always expressed a desire to maintain herself by 
 teaching, but I suspect that she will do so by her pen. 
 When she prepares to quit Mrs. Murray's house I shall 
 offer her a home in mine ; but I have little hope that she 
 will accept it, much as she loves me, for she wants to see 
 something of that strange mask called 'life' by the 
 world. She wishes to go to some large city, where she can 
 command advantages beyond her reach in this quiet little 
 place, and where her own exertions will pay for the roof 
 that covers her. However we may deplore this decision 
 certainly we can not blame her for the feeling that prompts 
 it." 
 
 " I have racked my brain for some plan by which I could 
 
ST. ELMO. 195 
 
 share my fortune with her without her suspecting the 
 donor ; for if she rejects my hand, I know she would not 
 accept one cent from me. Can you suggest any feasible 
 scheme ?" 
 
 Mr. Hammond shook his head, and after some reflection 
 answered : 
 
 " We can do nothing hut wait and watch for an oppor- 
 tunity of aiding her. I confess, Gordon, her future fills me 
 with serious apprehension ; she is so proud, so sensitive, so 
 scrupulous, and yet so boundlessly ambitious. Should her 
 high hopes, her fond dreams be destined to the sharp and 
 summary defeat which frequently overtakes ambitious men 
 and women early in life, I shudder for her closing years, and 
 the almost unendurable bitterness of her disappointed soul." 
 
 " Why do you suppose that she aspires to authorship ?" 
 
 " She has never intimated such a purpose to me ; but she 
 can not be ignorant of the fact that she possesses great tal- 
 ent, and she is too conscientious to bury it." 
 
 " Mr. Hammond, you may be correct in your predictions, 
 but I trust you are wrong ; and I can not believe that any 
 woman whose heart is as warm and noble as Edna's, will 
 continue to reject such love as I shall always offer her. Of 
 one thing I feel assured, no man will ever love her as well, 
 or better than I do, and to this knowledge she will awake 
 some day. God bless her ! she is the only woman I shall 
 ever want to call my wife." 
 
 " I sympathize most keenly with your severe disappoint- 
 ment, my dear young friend, and shall earnestly pray that 
 in this matter God will overrule all things for your happi- 
 ness as well as hers. He who notes the death of sparrows, 
 and numbers even the hairs of our heads, will not doom 
 your noble, tender heart to life-long loneliness and hunger." 
 
 With a long, close clasp of hands they parted. Gordon 
 Leigh walked sadly between the royal lily-rows, hoping 
 that the future would redeem the past ; and the old man 
 sat alone in the serene silent night, watching the shimme* 
 of the moen on the marble that covered his dead. 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 T is impossible, Estelle ! The girl is not a fool, 
 and nothing less than idiocy can explain such 
 conduct !" 
 
 Flushed and angry, Mrs. Murray walked up 
 and down the floor of the sitting-room ; and playing with 
 the jet bracelet on her rounded arm, Miss Harding replied : 
 
 " As Mrs. Inge happens to be his sister, I presume she 
 speaks ex cathedra^ and she certainly expressed very great 
 delight at the failure of Gordon Leigh's suit. She told me 
 that he was much depressed in consequence of Edna's re- 
 jection, and manifested more feeling than she had deemed 
 possible under the circumstances. Of course she is much 
 gratified that her family is saved from the disgrace of such 
 a mesalliance." 
 
 " You will oblige me by being more choice in the selec- 
 tion of your words, Estelle, as it is a poor compliment to 
 me to remark that any man would be disgraced by marry- 
 ing a girl whom I have raised and educated, and trained as 
 carefully as if she were my own daughter. Barring her 
 obscure birth, Edna is as worthy of Gordon as any dainty 
 pet of fashion who lounges in Clara Inge's parlors, and I 
 shall take occasion to tell her so if ever she hints at ' m'esal* 
 liance' in my presence." 
 
 " In that event she will doubtless retort by asking you 
 in her bland and thoroughly well-bred style, whether you 
 intend to give your consent to Edna's marriage with my 
 cousin, St. Elmo ?" 
 
 Mrs. Murray stopped suddenly, and confronting her niece, 
 
 said sternly : 
 
8T. ELMO. 197 
 
 " What do you mean, Estelle Harding ?" 
 
 " My dear aunt, the goodness of your heart has strangely 
 blinded you to the character of the girl you have taken into 
 your house, and honored with your confidence and affec 
 tion. Be patient with me while I unmask this shrewd 
 little intrigante. She is poor and unknown, and if she 
 leaves your roof, as she pretends is her purpose, she must 
 work for her own maintenance, which no one will do from 
 choice, when an alternative ot luxurious ease is within 
 reach. Mr. Leigh is very handsome, very agreeable, 
 wealthy and intelligent, and is considered a fine match for 
 any girl ; yet your protegee discards him most positively, 
 alleging as a reason that she does not love him, and prefers 
 hard labor as a teacher to securing an elegant home by 
 becoming his wife. That she can decline so brilliant an 
 offer seems to you incredible, but I knew from the begin- 
 ning that she would not accept it. My dear Aunt Ellen, she 
 aspires to the honor of becoming your daughter-in-law, and 
 can well afford to refuse Mr. Leigh's hand, when she hopes 
 to be mistress of Le Bocage. She is pretty and she knows 
 it, and her cunning handling of her cards would really 
 amuse and interest me, if I were not grieved' at the decep- 
 tion she is practising upon you. It has, I confess, greatly 
 surprised me that, with your extraordinary astuteness in 
 other matters, you should prove so obtuse concerning the 
 machinations which that girl carries on in your own house. 
 Can you not see how adroitly she flatters St. Elmo by 
 poring over his stupid mss., and professing devotion to 
 his pet authors? Your own penetration will show you 
 how unnatural it is that any pretty young girl like Edna 
 should sympathize so intensely with my cousin's outri 
 studies and tastes. Before I had been in this house twenty- 
 four hours, I saw the game she plays so skilfully and only 
 wonder that you, my dear aunt, should be victimized by 
 the cunning of one on whom you have lavished so much 
 kindness. Leok at the facts. She has certainly refused to 
 
193 ST. ELMO. 
 
 marry Mr. Leigh, and situated as she is, how can you 
 explain the mystery by any other solution than that which 
 I have given, and which I assure you is patent to every 
 one save yourself?" 
 
 Painful surprise kept Mrs. Murray silent for some mo- 
 ments, and at last shaking her head, she exclaimed : 
 
 " I do not belive a word of it ! I know her much better 
 that you possibly can, and so far from wishing to marry 
 my son, she fears and dislikes him exceedingly. Her evi- 
 dent aversion to him has even caused me regret, and at 
 times they scarcely treat each other with ordinary courtesy 
 She systematically avoids hirn, and occasionally, when I 
 request her to take a message to him, I have been amused 
 at the expression of her face and her manoeuvres to find a 
 substitute. No ! no ! she is too conscientious to wear a 
 mask. You must tax your ingenuity for some better solu- 
 tion." 
 
 " She is shrewd enough to see that St. Elmo is satiated 
 with flattery and homage ; she suspects that pique alone 
 can force an entrance to the citadel of his heart, and her 
 demonstrations of aversion are only a ruse de guerre. My 
 poor aunt ! I pity the disappointment and mortification to 
 which you are destined, when you discover how complete 
 is the imposture she practises." 
 
 " I tell you, Estelle, I am neither blind nor exactly in 
 my dotage, and that girl has no more intention of " 
 
 The door opened and Mr. Murray came in. Glancing 
 round the room and observing the sudden silence — his 
 mother's flushed cheeks and angry eyes, his cousin's lurking 
 smile, he threw himself on the sofa, saying : 
 
 " Tantmne animis ccelestibus ircef Pray what dire 
 calamity has raised a feud between you two ? Has the 
 French Count grown importunate, and does my mother 
 refuse her consent to your tardy decision to follow the 
 dictates of your long outraged conscience, and bestow 
 speedily upon him that pretty hand of yours, which has so 
 
ST. ELMO. 199 
 
 often been surrendered to his tender clasp ? If my inter- 
 cession in behalf of said Victor is considered worthy of 
 acceptance, pray command me, Estelle, for I swear I never 
 keep Punic faith with an ally." 
 
 " My son, did it ever occur to you that your eloquence 
 might be more successfully and agreeably exercised in your 
 own behalf?" 
 
 Mrs. Murray looked keenly at her niece as she spoke. 
 
 " My profound and proverbial humility never permitted 
 the ghost of such a suggestion to affright my soul ! Judg- 
 ing from the confusion which greeted my entrance, I am 
 forced to conclude that it was mal apropos ! But prudent 
 regard for the reputation of the household, urged me to ven- 
 ture near enough to the line of battle to inform you that 
 the noise of the conflict proclaims it to the servants, and 
 the unmistakable tones arrested my attention even in the 
 yard. Family feuds become really respectable if only 
 waged sotto voce." 
 
 He rose as if to leave the room, but his mother motioned 
 him to remain. 
 
 " I am very much annoyed at a matter which surprises 
 me beyond expression. Do you know that Gordon Leigh 
 has made Edna an offer of marriage, and she has been in- 
 sane enough to refuse him ? Was ever a girl so stupidly 
 blind to her true interest ? She can not hope to make half 
 so brilliant a match, for he is certainly one of the most prom- 
 ising young men in the State, and would give her a posi- 
 tion in the world that otherwise she can never attain." 
 
 " Refused him ! Refused affluence, fashionable social 
 status/ diamonds, laces, rose-curtained boudoir, and hot- 
 houses ! Refused the glorious privilege of calling Mrs. Inge 
 * sister,' and the opportunity of snubbing le beau monde 
 who persistently snub her ! Impossible ! you are growing 
 old and oblivious of the strategy you indulged in when 
 throwing your toils around your devoted admirer, whom I, 
 ultimately, had the honor of calling my father. Your pet 
 
200 ST. ELMO. 
 
 vagrant, Edna, is no simpleton ; she can ta ee care c Lei 
 own interests, and, accept my word for it, intends to ilu so. 
 She is only practising a little harmless coquetry — toying 
 with, her victim, as fish circle round and round the bait 
 which, they fully intend to swallow. Were she Aphsea 
 herself, I should say Gordon's success is as fixed as any 
 other decree — 
 
 ' In the chamber of Fate, where, through tremulous hands, 
 Hum the threads from an old-fashioned distaff uncurled, 
 And those three blind old women sit spinning the world 1 ' 
 
 Be not cast down, O my mother ! Your protegee is a true 
 daughter of Eve, and she eyes Leigh's fortune as hungrily 
 as the aforesaid venerable mother of mankind did the tempt- 
 ing apple." 
 
 " St. Elmo, it is neither respectful nor courteous to be 
 eternally sneering at women in the presence of your own 
 mother. As for Edna, I am intensely provoked at her de- 
 plorable decision, for I know that when she once decides on 
 a course of conduct neither persuasion nor argument will 
 move her one iota. She is incapable of the contemptible 
 coquetry you imputed to her, and Gordon may as well look 
 elsewhere for a bride." 
 
 " You are quite right, Aunt Ellen ; her refusal was most 
 positive." 
 
 " Did she inform you of the fact ?" asked Mr. Murray. 
 
 " No, but Mr. Leigh told his sister that she gave him no 
 hope whatever." 
 
 " Then, for the first time in my life, I have succeeded in 
 slandering human nature ! which, hitherto, I deemed quite 
 impossible. Peccavi, peccavif O my race ! And she ab- 
 solutely, positively declines to sell herself? I am unpleas- 
 antly startled in my pet theories concerning the cunning, 
 lynx selfishness of women, by this feminine phenomenon ! 
 Why, I would have bet half my estate on Gordon's chances, 
 for his handsome face, aided by such incomparable coiidju- 
 
ST. ELMO. 201 
 
 tors as my mothev here and tlie infallible sage and oiacle of 
 the parsonage, constituted a 'triple alliance' more formida- 
 ble, more invincible, than those that threatened Louis XIV. 
 or Alberoni ! I imagined the girl was clay in the experi- 
 enced hands of matrimonial potters, and that Hebrew stra- 
 tegy would prove triumphant ! Accept, my dear mother, 
 my most heartfelt sympathy in your ignominious defeat. 
 You will not doubt the sincerity of my condolence when ] 
 confess that it springs from the mortifying consciousness of 
 having found that all women are not so entirely unscrupu 
 lous as I prefer to believe them. Permit me to comfort you 
 with the assurance that the campaign has been conducted 
 with distinguished ability on your part. You have dis- 
 played topographical accuracy, wariness, and an insight into 
 the character of your antagonist, which entitle you to an 
 exalted place among modern tacticians; and you have the 
 consolation of knowing that you have been defeated most 
 unscientifically, and in direct opposition to every well-es- 
 tablished maxim and rule of strategy, by this rash, incom- 
 prehensible, feminine Napoleon ! Believe me " 
 
 " Hush, St. Elmo ! I don't wish to hear any thing more 
 about the miserable affair. Edna is very obstinate and ex- 
 ceedingly ungrateful after all the interest I have manifested 
 in her welfare, and henceforth I shall not concern myself 
 about her future. If she prefers to drudge through life as a 
 teacher, I shall certainly advise her to commence as soon as 
 possible ; for if she can so entirely dispense with my coun- 
 sel, she no longer needs my protection." 
 
 " Have you reasoned with her concerning this singular 
 bliquity of her mental vision ?" 
 
 " No. She knows my wishes, and since she defies them, I 
 certainly shall not condescend to open my lips to her on 
 this subject." • 
 
 " Women arrogate such marvellous astuteness in reading 
 each other's motives, that I should imagine Estelle's ingeni- 
 •ty Would furnish an open sesame to the locked chamber of 
 
202 81. ELMO. 
 
 this girl's heart, and supply some satisfactory explanation 
 of her incomprehensihle course." 
 
 Mr. Murray took his cousin's hand and drew her to a 
 seat beside him on the sofa. 
 
 " The solution is very easy, my dear cynic. Edna caffl. 
 well afford to decline Gordon Leigh's offer when she expects 
 and manoeuvres to sell herself for a much higher sum, than 
 he can command." 
 
 As Miss Harding uttered these words, Mrs. Murray turned 
 quickly to observe their effect. 
 
 The cousins looked steadily at each other, and St. Elmo 
 laughed bitterly, and patted Estelle's cheek, saying : 
 
 "Bravo! 'Set a thief to catch a thief!' I knew you 
 would hit the nail on the head ! But who the d — 1 is this 
 fellow who is writing to her from New- York ? This is the 
 second letter I have taken out of the office, and there is no 
 telling how often they come ; for, on both occasions, when I 
 troubled myself to ride to the post-office, I have found 
 letters directed to her in this same handwriting." 
 
 He drew a letter from his pocket and laid it on his knee, 
 and as Estelle looked at it, and then glanced with a puz- 
 zled expi-ession toward her aunt's equally curious face, Mr. 
 Murray passed his hand across his eyes, to hide their mali- 
 cious twinkle. 
 
 " Give me the letter, St. Elmo ; it is my duty to examine 
 it ; for as long as she is under my protection she has no right 
 to cany on a clandestine correspondence with strangers." 
 
 " Pardon me if I presume to dispute your prerogative to 
 open her letters. It is neither your business nor mine to dic- 
 tate with whom she shall or shall not correspond, now that 
 she is no longer a child. Doubtless you remember that I 
 warned you against her from the first day I ever set my 
 eyes upon her, and predicted that you would repent in sack- 
 cloth and ashes your charitable credulity? I swore then 
 she would prove a thief; you vowed she was a saint ! But, 
 nevertheless, I have no intention of turning spy at this late 
 
ST. ELMO. 203 
 
 day, and assisting you in the emxnently honorable work of 
 waylaying letters from her distant swain." 
 
 Very coolly he put the letter back in his pocket. 
 
 Mrs. Murray bit her lip, and held out her hand, saying 
 peremptorily : 
 
 " I insist upon having the letter. Since you are so spas 
 ipodically and exceedingly scrupulous, I will carry it imme- 
 diately to her and demand a perusal of the contents. St 
 Elmo, I am in no mood for jesting." 
 
 He only shook his head, and laughed. 
 
 "The dictates of filial respect forbid that I should subject 
 my mother's curiosity to so severe an ordeal. Moreover, 
 were the letter once in your hands, your conscience would 
 persuade you that it is your imperative duty to a ' poor, in- 
 experienced, motherless' girl, to inspect it ere her eager 
 fingers have seized it. Besides, she is coming, and will save 
 you the trouble of seeking her. I heard her run up the steps 
 a moment ago." 
 
 Before Mrs. Murray could frame her indignation in suit- 
 able words, Edna entered, holding in one hand her straw 
 hat, in the other a basket, lined with grape-leaves, and filled 
 with remarkably large and fine strawberries. Exercise had 
 deepened the color in her fair, sweet face, which had never 
 looked more lovely than now, as she approached her bene- 
 factress, holding up the fragrant, tempting fruit. 
 
 " Mrs. Murray, here is a present from Mr. Hammond, who 
 desired me to tell you that these berries are the first he has 
 gathered from the new bed, next to the row of lilacs. It is 
 the variety he ordered from New- York last fall, and some 
 roots of which he says he sent to you. Are they not the 
 most perfect specimens you ever saw ? We measured them 
 at the parsonage and six filled a saucer." 
 
 She was selecting a cluster to hold up for inspection, and 
 had not remarked the cloud on Mrs. Murray's brow. 
 
 " The strawberries are very fine. I am much obliged to 
 Mr; Hammond." 
 
204 ST. ELMO. 
 
 The severity of the tone astonished Edna, who lo6ked 
 up quickly, saw the stern displeasure written on her face, 
 and glanced inquiringly at the cousins. There was an awk 
 ward silence, and feeling the eyes of all fixed upon her, the 
 orphan picked up her hat, which had fallen on the floor, and 
 asked : 
 
 " Shall I carry the basket to the dining-room, or leave it 
 here ?" 
 
 " You need not trouble yourself to carry it anywhere." 
 
 Mrs. Murray laid her hand on the bell-cord and rang 
 sharply. Edna placed the fruit on the centre-table, and 
 suspecting that she must be de trap, moved toward the 
 door, but Mr. Murray rose and stood before her. 
 
 "Here is a letter which arrived yesterday." 
 
 He put it in her hand, and as she recognized the pecu- 
 liar superscription, a look of delight flashed over her fea- 
 tures, and raising her beaming eyes to his, she murmured, 
 " Thank you, sir," and retreated to her own room. 
 
 Mr. Murray turned to his mother and said carelessly : 
 
 "I neglected to tell you that I heard from Clinton to- 
 day. He has invited himself to spend some days here, and 
 wrote to say that he might be expected next week. At 
 least his visit Avill be welcome to you, Estelle, and I con- 
 gratulate you on the prospect of adding to your list of ad- 
 mirers the most fastidious exquisite it has ever been my 
 misfortune to encounter." 
 
 " St. Elmo, you ought to be ashamed to mention your 
 father's nephew in such terms. You certainly have less re- 
 spect and affection for your relatives than any man I ever 
 saw." 
 
 "Which fact is entirely attributable to my thorough 
 knowledge of their characters. I have generally found that 
 high appreciation and intimate acquaintance are in inverse 
 ratios. As for Clinton Allston, were he my father's son, 
 instead of his nephew, I imagine my flattering estimate of 
 him would be substantially the same. Estelle, do you know 
 him ?" 
 
ST. ELMO. 205 
 
 U I have not that pleasure, but report prepares me to 
 find him extremely agreeable. I am rejoiced at the pros- 
 pect of meeting him. Some time ago, just before I left 
 Paris, I received a message from him, challenging me to a 
 flirtation at sight so soon as an opportunity presented it- 
 self." 
 
 " For your sake, Estelle, I am glad Clinton is coming, 
 for St. Elmo is so shamefully selfish, and oblivious of his 
 duties as host, that I know time often hangs very heavily 
 on your hands." 
 
 Mrs. Murray was too thoroughly out of humor to heed 
 the dangerous sparkle in her son's eyes. 
 
 " Very true, mother, his amiable and accommodating 
 disposition commends him strongly to your aifection ; and 
 knowing what is expected of him, he will politely declare 
 himself her most devoted lover before he has been thirty- 
 six hours in her society. Now, if she can accept him for a 
 husband, and you will only consent to receive him as your 
 son, I swear I will reserve a mere scanty annuity for my 
 travelling expenses ; I will gladly divide the estate between 
 them, and transport myself permanently and joyfully be- 
 yond the reach of animadversion on my inherited sweet- 
 ness of temper. If you, my dear coz, can only coax Clinton 
 into this arrangement for your own and my mother's happi- 
 ness, you will render me eternally grateful, and smooth the 
 way for a trip to Thibet and Siberia, which I have long 
 contemplated. Bear this proposition in mind, will you, es- 
 pecially when the charms of Le Bocage most favorably im- 
 press you ? Remember you will become its mistress the 
 day that you marry Clinton, make my mother adopt him, 
 and release me. If my terms are not sufficiently liberal, 
 confer with Clinton as soon as maidenly propriety will pei*- 
 mit, and acquaint me with your ultimatum ; for I am so 
 thoroughly weary and disgusted with the place that I am 
 anxious to get away on almost any terms. Here come the 
 autorrats of the neighbd vhood, the nouveaux cnrichis! 
 
206 ST. ELMO. 
 
 your friends the Montgomeries and Hills, than whom 1 
 would sooner shake hands with the Asiatic plague ! I heai 
 Madame Montgomery asking if I am not at home, as well 
 as the ladies ! Tell her I am in Spitzbergen or Mantchoo 
 ria, where I certainly intend to be ere long." 
 
 As the visitors approached the sitting-room, he sprang 
 through the window opening on the terrace and disap- 
 peared. 
 
 The contents of the unexpected letter surprised and de- 
 lighted Edna, much more than she would willingly have 
 confessed. Mr. Manning wrote that upon the eve of leav- 
 ing home for a tour of some weeks' travel, he chanced to 
 stumble upon her letter, and in a second perusal some pecu- 
 liarity of style induced him to reconsider the oifer it con- 
 tained, and he determined to permit her to send the manu- 
 script (as far as written) for his examination. If promptly 
 forwarded, it would reach him before he left home, and 
 expedite an answer. 
 
 Drawing all happy auguries from this second letter, and 
 trembling with pleasure, Edna hastened to prepare her 
 manuscript for immediate transmission. Carefully envelop- 
 ing it in thick paper, she sealed and directed it, then fell on 
 her knees, and, with clasped hands resting on the package, 
 prayed earnestly, vehemently, that God's blessing would 
 accompany it, would crown her efforts with success. 
 
 Afraid to trust it to the hand of a servant, she put on 
 her hat and walked back to town. 
 
 The express agent gave her a receipt for the parcel, as- 
 sured her that it would be forwarded by the evening tram, 
 and with a sigh of relief she turned her steps homeward. 
 
 Ah ! it was a frail paper bark, freighted with the noblest, 
 purest aspirations that ever possessed a woman's soul, 
 launched upon the tempestuous sea of popular favor, with 
 ambition at the helm, hope for a compass, and the gaunt 
 spectre of failure grinning in the shrouds. "Would it suc- 
 cessfully weather the galea of malice, envy, and detraction ? 
 
ST. ELMO. 207 
 
 Would it, battle valiantly and triumphantly with the pirati- 
 cal hordes of critics who prowl hungrily along the track 
 over which it must sail? "Would it h«come a melancholy 
 wreck on the mighty ocean of literature, or would it 
 proudly ride at anchor in the harbor c«f immortality, with 
 her name floating for ever at the masthead ? 
 
 It was an experiment that had stranded the hopes of hun- ' 
 dreds and of thousands ; and the pinched, starved features 
 of Chatterton, and the white, pleading face of Keats, 
 stabbed to death by reviewers' poisoned pens, rose like 
 friendly phantoms and whispered sepulchral warnings. 
 
 But to-day the world wore only rosy garments, unspotted 
 by shadows, and the silvery voice of youthful enthusiasm 
 sung only of victory and spoils, as hope gayly struck the 
 cymbals and fingered the timbrels. 
 
 When Edna returned to her room, she sat down before 
 her desk to reperuse the letter which had given her so much 
 gratification; and, as she refolded it, Mrs. Murray came 
 in and closed the door after her. 
 
 Her face was stern and pale ; she walked up to the or- 
 phan, looked at her suspiciously, and when she spoke her 
 voice was hard and cold. 
 
 " I wish to see that letter which you received to-day, as 
 it is very improper that you should, without my knowledge, 
 carry on a correspondence with a stranger. I would not 
 have believed that you could be guilty of such conduct." 
 
 "I am very much pained, Mrs. Murray, that you should 
 even for a moment have supposed that I had forfeited your 
 confidence. The nature of the correspondence certainly sanc- 
 tions my engaging in it, even without consulting you. This 
 letter is the second I have received from Mr. Manning, the 
 
 editor of Magazine, and was written in answer to a 
 
 request of mine, with reference to a literary matter which 
 concerns nobody but myself. I will show you the signa- 
 ture ; there it is — Douglas G. Manning. You know his liter- 
 ary reputation and his high position. If you demand it, of 
 
203 ST. ELMO 
 
 course I can not refuse to allow you to read it ; but, deal 
 Mrs. Murray, I hope you will not insist upon it, as I prefei 
 that no one should see the contents, at least at present. At 
 I have never deceived you, I think you might trust me, 
 when I assure you that the correspondence is entirely re 
 Btrieted to literary subjects." 
 
 " Why, then, should you object to my reading it ?" 
 
 " For a reason which I will explain at some future day T if 
 you will only have confidence in me. Still, if you are de- 
 termined to examine the letter, of course I must submit, 
 though it would distress me exceedingly to know that you 
 can not, or will not, trust me in so small a matter." 
 
 She laid the open letter on the desk and covered her face 
 with her hands. 
 
 Mrs. Murray took up the sheet, glanced at the signature, 
 and said : 
 
 " Look at me ; don't hide your face, that argues some- 
 thing wrong." 
 
 Edna raised her head, and lifted eyes full of tears to meet 
 the scrutiny from which there was no escape. 
 
 "Mr. Manning's signature somewhat reassures me, and 
 beside, I never knew you to prevaricate or attempt to de- 
 ceive me. Your habitual truthfulness encourages me to be- 
 lieve you, and I will not insist on reading this letter, though 
 I can not imagine why you should object to it. But, Edna, 
 I am disappointed in you, and in return for the confidence 
 I have always reposed in you, I want you to answer can- 
 didly the question I am about to ask. "Why did you refuse 
 to marry Gordon Leigh ?" 
 
 " Because I did not love him." 
 
 "O pooh! that seeme incredible, for he is handsome and 
 very attractive, and some young ladies show very plainly that 
 they love him, though they have never been requested to do 
 so. There is only one way in which I can account for your 
 refusal, and I wish you to tell me the truth. You are 
 unwilling to marry Gordon because you love somebody else 
 better. Child, whom do you love ?" 
 
■ST. ELMO. 209 
 
 " No, indeed, no ! I like Mr. Leigh as well aa Any geu 
 tleman I know ; butl love no one except you and Mr. Ham- 
 mond." 
 
 Mrs. Murray put lier hand under the girl's chin, looked 
 at her for some seconds, and sighed heavily. 
 
 " Child, I find it difficult to believe you." 
 
 " Why, whom do you suppose I could love ? Mr. Leigh 
 is certainly more agreeable than any body else I know." 
 
 " But girls sometimes take strange whims in these mat- 
 ters. Do you ever expect to receive a better offer than Mr. 
 Leigh's ?" 
 
 " As far as fortune is concerned, I presume I never shall 
 have so good an opportunity again. But, Mrs. Murray, I 
 would rather marry a poor man, whom I really loved, and 
 who had to earn his daily bread than' to be Mr. Leigh's 
 wife and own that beautiful house he is building. I know 
 you wish me to accept him, and that you think me very 
 unwise, very short-sighted; but it is a question which I 
 have settled after consulting my conscience and my heart." 
 
 "And you give me your word of honor that you love no 
 other gentleman better than Gordon ?" 
 
 "Yes, Mrs. Murray, I assure you that I do not." 
 
 As the mistress of the house looked down into the girl's 
 beautiful face, and passed her hand tenderly over the thick, 
 glossy folds of hair that crowned the pure brow, she won- 
 dered if it were possible that her son could ever regard the 
 orphan with affection ; and she asked her own heart why 
 she could not willingly receive her as a daughter. 
 
 Mrs. Murray believed that she entertained a sincere 
 friendship for Mrs. Inge, and yet she had earnestly endeav- 
 ored to marry her brother to a girl whom she could not 
 consent to see the wife of her own son. Verily, when hu- 
 man friendships are analyzed, it seems a mere poetic fiction 
 that — 
 
 " Loye took up the harp of Life, and smote on all the chords with 
 
 might ; 
 Smrats the chord of Self, that, trembling, passed in music out of sight.* 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 1STE afternoon, about ten days after the receipt of 
 Mr. Manning's letter, when Edna returned from 
 the parsonage, she found the family assembled 
 on the front verandah, and saw that the expected 
 visitor had arrived. As Mrs. Murray introduced her to 
 Mr. Allston, the latter rose, advanced a few steps, and held 
 out his hand. Edna was in the act of giving him hers, 
 when the heart-shaped diamond cluster on his finger flashed, 
 and one swift glance at his face and figure made her snatch 
 away her hand ere it touched his, and draw back with a 
 half-smothered exclamation. 
 
 He bit his lip, looked inquiringly around the circle, 
 smiled, and returning to his seat beside Estelle, resumed the 
 gay conversation in which he had been engaged. 
 
 Mrs. Murray was leaning over the iron balustrade, twin- 
 ing a wreath of multiflora around one of the fluted columns, 
 and did not witness the brief pantomime ; but when she 
 -ooked around she could not avoid remarking the unwonted 
 pallor and troubled expression of the girl's face. 
 
 " "What is the matter, child ? You look as if you wert, 
 either ill or dreadfully fatigued." 
 
 "I am tired, thank you," was the rather abstracted reply, 
 and she walked into the house and sat down before the 
 oper. window in the library. 
 
 The sun had just gone down behind a fleecy cloud-moun- 
 tain and kindled a volcano, from whose silver-rimmed crater 
 fiery rays of scarlet shot up, almost to the clear blue zenith ; 
 
ST. ELMO. 211 
 
 while here and there, through clefts and vapory gorges, the 
 lurid lava light streamed down toward the horizon. 
 
 Vacantly her eyes rested on this sky-Hecla, and its splen« 
 dor passed away unheeded, for she was looking far beyond 
 the western gates of day, and saw a pool of blood — a ghastly 
 face turned up to the sky — a coffined corpse strewn with 
 white poppies and rosemary — a wan, dying woman, whose 
 waving hair braided the pillow with gold — a wide, deep 
 grave under the rustling chestnuts from whose green arches 
 rang the despairing wail of a broken heart : 
 
 " O Harry ! my husband !" 
 
 Imagination travelling into the past, painted two sunny- 
 haired, prattling babes, suddenly smitten with orphanage, 
 and robed in mourning garments for parents whose fond, 
 watchful eyes were closed forever under wild clover and 
 trailing brambles. Absorbed in retrospection of that June 
 day, when she stood by the spring, and watched 
 
 " God make himself an awful rose of dawn," 
 she sat with her head resting against the window-facing, 
 and was not aware of Mr. Murray's entrance until his 
 harsh, querulous voice startled her. 
 
 " Edna Earl ! what apology have you to offer for insult- 
 ing a relative and guest of mine under my roof?" 
 
 " None, sir." 
 
 " What ! How dare you treat with unparalleled rude- 
 ness a visitor, whose claim upon the courtesy and hospi- 
 tality of this household is certainly more legitimate and 
 easily recognized than that of " 
 
 He stopped and kicked out of his way a stool upon which 
 Edna's feet had been resting. She had risen, and they 
 stood face to face. 
 
 " I am waiting to hear the remainder of your sentence, 
 Mr. Murray." 
 
 He uttered an oath and hurled his cigar through the 
 window. 
 
 " Why the d — I did you refuse to shake hands with All- 
 
212 8T. ELMO. 
 
 ston ? I intend to know the truth, and it may pttve an 
 economy of trouble for you to speak it at once." 
 
 " If you demand my reasons, you must not be offended at 
 the plainness of my language. Your cousin is a murderer, 
 and ought to be hung ! I could not force myself to touch 
 a hand all smeared with blood." 
 
 Mr. Murray leaned down and looked into her eyes. 
 
 " You are either delirious or utterly mistaken with refer- 
 ence to the identity of the man. Clinton is no more guilty 
 of murder than you are, and I have been led to suppose 
 that you are rather too ' pious' to attempt the role of Mar- 
 guerite de Brinvilliers or Joanna of Hainault ! Cufic lore 
 has turned your brain ; ' too much learning hath made thee 
 mad.' " 
 
 " No, sir, it is no hallucination ; there can be no mistake ; 
 it is a horrible, awful fact, which I witnessed, which is 
 burned on my memory, and which will haunt my brain as 
 long as I live. I saw him shoot Mr. Dent, and heard all 
 that passed on that dreadful morning. He is doubly crim- 
 inal — is as much the murderer of Mrs. Dent as of her hus- 
 band, for the shock killed her. Oh ! that I could forget her 
 look and scream of agony as she fainted oyer her husband's 
 coffin ! " 
 
 A puzzled expression crossed Mr. Murray's face ; then he 
 muttered : 
 
 " Dent ? Dent ? Ah ! yes ; that was the name of the man 
 whom Clinton killed in a duel. Pshaw ! you have whipped 
 up a syllabub storm in a tea-cup ! Allston only took ' sat- 
 isfaction' for an insult offered publicly by Dent." 
 
 His tone was sneering and his lip curled, but a strange 
 pallor crept from chin to temples ; and a savage glare in his 
 eyes, and a thickening scowl that bent his brows till they 
 met, told of the brewing of no slight tempest of passion. 
 
 "I know, sir, that custom, public opinion, sanctions — at 
 least tolerates that relic of barbarous ages — that blot upon 
 Christian civilization which, under the name of ' dueling,' 
 
ST. ELMkI. 213 
 
 I recognize as a crime ; a heinous crime w.rich I abtoi and 
 detest above all other crimes! Sir, I call things by their 
 proper names, stripped of the glozing drapery of conven- 
 tional usage. You say ' honorable satisfaction ;' I say 
 murder ! aggravated, unpardonable murder ; murder with- 
 out even the poor palliation of the sudden heat of anger. 
 Cool, deliberate, wilful murder, that stabs the happiness of 
 wives and children, and for which it would seem that even 
 the infinite mercy of Almighty God could scarcely accord 
 forgiveness ! Oh ! save me from the presence of that man 
 who can derive ' satisfaction ' from the reflection that he 
 has laid Henry and Helen Dent in one grave, under the 
 quiet shadow of Lookout, and brought desolation and or- 
 phanage to their two innocent, tender darlings ! Shake 
 hands with Clinton Allston ? I would sooner stretch out my 
 fingers to clasp those of Gardiner, reeking with the blood 
 of his victims, or those of Ravaillac ! Ah ! well might 
 Dante shudder in painting the chilling horrors of Caina." 
 
 The room was dusky with the shadow of coming night ; 
 ^ut the fading flush, low in the west, showed St. Elmo's face 
 colorless, rigid, repulsive in its wrathful defiance. 
 
 He bent forward, seized her hands, folded them together, 
 and grasping them in both his, crushed them against his 
 breast. 
 
 " Ha ! I knew that hell and heaven were leagued to poi- 
 son your mind ! That your childish conscience was fright- 
 ened by tales of horror, and your imagination harroAyed up, 
 your heart lacerated by the cunning devices of that arch 
 maudlin old hypocrite ! The seeds of clerical hate fell in 
 good ground, and I see a bountiful harvest nodding for my 
 sickle ! Oh ! you are more pliable than I had fancied ! You 
 have been thoroughly trained down yonder at the parson- 
 age. But I will be " 
 
 There was a trembling pant in his voice like that of some 
 wild- creature driven from its jungle, hopeless of escape, 
 holding its hunters temporarily at bay, waiting for death. 
 
214: ST. ELMO. 
 
 The girl's hands ached in his unyielding grasp, atd aftei 
 two ineffectual efforts to free them, a sigh of pain passed 
 her lips and she said proudly: 
 
 " No, sir ; my detestation of that form of legalized mur- 
 der, politely called ' dueling,' was not taught me at the 
 , parsonage. I learned it in my early childhood, before I 
 ever saw Mr. Hammond ; and though I doubt not he agrees 
 with me in my abhorrence of the custom, I have never 
 heard him mention the subject." 
 
 " Hypocrite ! hypocrite ! Meek little wolf in lamb's 
 wool ! Do you dream that you can deceive me ? Do you 
 think me an idiot, to be cajoled by your low-spoken denials 
 of a fact which I know ? A fact, to the truth of which I 
 will swear till every star falls ! " 
 
 " Mr. Murray, I never deceived you, and I know that 
 however incensed you may be, however harsh and unjust, 
 I know that in your heart you do not doubt my truthful- 
 ness. Why you invariably denounce Mr. Hammond when 
 you happen to be displeased with me, I can not conjecture ; 
 but I tell you solemnly that he has never even indirectly 
 alluded to the question of 'duelling' since I have known 
 him. Mr. Murray, I know you do entirely believe me 
 when I utter these words." 
 
 A tinge of red leaped into his cheek, something that 
 would have been called hope in any other man's eyes look- 
 ed out shyly from under his heavy black lashes, and a 
 tremor shook off the sneering curl of his bloodless lips. 
 
 Drawing her so close to him that his hair touched her 
 forehead, he whispered : 
 
 " If I believe in you my — it is in defiance of judgment, 
 will, and experience, and some day you will make me pay 
 a most humiliating penalty for my momentary weakness. 
 To-night I trust you as implicitly as Samson did the smooth- 
 lipped Delilah; to-morrow I shall realize that, like him, I 
 richly deserve to be shorn for my silly credulity." 
 
 He threw her hands rudely from him. turned hastily and 
 left the library. 
 
ST. ELMO. 215 
 
 Edna sat down and covered her faae with her bruised 
 and benumbed fingers, but she could not shut out the sight 
 of something that astonished and frightened her — of some- 
 thing that made her shudder from head to foot, and croucn 
 down in her chair cowed and humiliated. Hitherto she had 
 fancied that she thoroughly understood and sternly- governed 
 her heart — that conscience and reason ruled it ; but within 
 the past hour it had suddenly risen in dangerous rebellion, 
 thrown off its allegiance to all things else, and insolently 
 proclaimed St. Elmo Murray its king. She could not ana- 
 lyze her new feelings, they would not obey the summons to 
 the tribunal of her outraged self-respect ; and with bitter 
 shame and reproach and abject contrition, she realized that 
 she had begun to love the sinful, blasphemous man who had 
 insulted her revered grandfather, and who barely tolerated 
 her presence in his house. 
 
 This danger had never once occurred to her, for she had 
 always believed that love could only exist where high es- 
 teem and unbounded reverence prepared the soil ; and she 
 was well aware that this man's character had from the first 
 hour of their acquaintance excited her aversion and dread. 
 Ten days before she had positively disliked and feared him ; 
 now, to her amazement, she found him throned in her 
 heart, defying ejection. The sudden revulsion bewildered 
 and mortified her, and she resolved to crush out the feeling 
 at once, cost what it might. When Mrs. Murray had asked 
 if she loved any one else better than Mr. Leigh, she thought, 
 nay she knew, she answered truly in the negative. But 
 now when she attempted to compare the two men, such a 
 strange, yearning tenderness pleaded for St. Elmo, and pal- 
 liated his grave faults, that the girl's self-accusing severity 
 wrung a groan from the very depths of her soul. 
 
 When the sad discovery was first made, conscience lifted 
 its hands in horror, because of the man's reckless wicked- 
 ness ; but after a little while a still louder clamor was 
 raised by womanly pride, which bled at the thought of tol- 
 
216 ST. ELMO, 
 
 erating a love unsought, unvalued; and with this fieicc 
 rush of reenforcements to aid conscience, the insurgent 
 heart seemed destined to summary subjugation. Until this 
 hour, although conscious of many faults, she had not sup- 
 posed that there was any thing especially contemptible in 
 her character ; but now the feeling of self-abasement was 
 unutterably galling. She despised herself most cordially, 
 and the consistent dignity of life which she had striven to 
 attain appeared hopelessly shattered. 
 
 While the battle of reason versus love was at its height, 
 Mrs. Murray put her head in the room and asked : 
 
 " Edna ! Where are you, Edna ?" 
 
 " Here I am." 
 
 " Why are you sitting in the dark ? I have searched the 
 house for you." 
 
 She groped her way across the room, lighted the gas, and 
 came to the window. 
 
 " What is the matter, child ? Are you sick ?" 
 
 " I think something must be the matter, for I do not feel 
 at all like myself," stammered the orphan, as she hid her 
 face on the window-sill. 
 
 " Does your head ache ?" 
 
 " No, ma'am." 
 
 She might have said very truly that her heart did. ■ 
 
 " Give me your hand, let me feel your pulse. It is very 
 quick, but shows nervous excitement rather than fever 
 Child, let me see your tongue, I hear there are some typhoid 
 cases in the neighborhood. Why, how hot your cheeks 
 are !" 
 
 " Yes, I will go up and bathe them, and -perhaps I shall 
 feel better." 
 
 " I wish you would come into the parlor as soon as you 
 can, for Estelle says Clinton thought you were very rude 
 to him ; and though I apologized on the score of indisposi 
 tion, I prefer that you should make your appearance this 
 evening. Stop, you have dropped your handkerchief." 
 
ST. ELMO. 217 
 
 Edna stooped to pick it up, saw Mr. Murray's name 
 printed in one corner, and her first impulse was to thrust 
 it into her pocket; but instantly she held it toward his 
 mother. 
 
 " It is not mine, but your son's. He was here about an 
 hour ago and must have dropped it." 
 
 " I thought he had gone out over the grounds with Clin- 
 ton. What brought him here ?" 
 
 " He came to scold me for not shaking hands with his 
 cousin." 
 
 " Indeed ! you must have been singularly rude if he 
 noticed any want of courtesy. Change your dress and come 
 down." 
 
 It was in vain that Edna bathed her hot face and pressed 
 her cold hands to her cheeks. She felt as if all curious eyes 
 read her troubled heart. She was ashamed to meet the 
 family — above all things to see Mr. Murray. Heretofore 
 she had shunned|him from dislike ; now she wished to avoid 
 him because she began to feel that she loved him, and be- 
 cause she dreaded that his inquisitorial eyes would discover 
 the contemptible, and, in her estimation, unwomanly weak- 
 ness. 
 
 Taking the basket which contained her sewing utensils 
 and a piece of light needle-work, she went into the parlor 
 and seated herself near the centre-table, over which swung 
 the chandelier. 
 
 Mr. Murray and his mother were sitting on a sofa, the 
 former engaged in cutting the leaves of a new book, and 
 Estelle Harding was describing in glowing terms a scene 
 in " FhMre? which owed its charm she thought to Rachel's 
 marvellous acting. As she repeated the soliloquy beginning, 
 
 " toi, qui voia la honte ou je suis descendue, 
 Implacable Venus, suis-je assez confondue !" 
 
 Edua felt as if her own great weakness were known to 
 
218 ST. ELMO. 
 
 the world, and she bent her face clo&e to her basket and 
 tumbled the contents into inextricable confusion. 
 
 To-night Estelle seemed in unusually fine spirits, and talk- 
 ed on rapidly, till St. Elmo suddenly appeared to become 
 aware of the import of her words, and in a few trenchant 
 sentences he refuted the criticism on Phedre, advising hia 
 cousin to confine her comments to dramas with which she 
 was better acquainted . 
 
 His tone and manner surprised Mr. Allston, who re- 
 marked : 
 
 " Were I Czar, I would issue a ukase, chaining you to the 
 steepest rock on the crest of Mount Byelucha till you learn- 
 ed the courtesy due to lady disputants. Upon my word, 
 St. Elmo, you assault Miss Estelle with as much elan as if 
 you were carrying a redoubt. One would suppose that you 
 had been in good society long enough to discover that the 
 fortiter in re style is not allowable in discussions with 
 ladies." 
 
 " When women put on boxing-gloves and show their faces 
 in the ring, they challenge rough handling, and are rarely 
 disappointed. I am sick of sciolism, especially that phase 
 where it crops out in shallow criticism, and every day some- 
 thing recalls the reprimand of Apelles to the shoemaker. If 
 a worthy and able literary tribunal and critical code could 
 be established, it would be well to revive an ancient Locrian 
 custom, which required that the originators of new laws or 
 propositions should be brought befoi*e the assembled wis- 
 dom, with halters round their necks, ready for speedy execu- 
 tion if the innovation proved, on examination, to be utterly 
 unsound or puerile. Ah ! what a wholesale hanging of 
 sciolists would gladden my eyes !" 
 
 Mr. Murray bowed to his cousin as he spoke, and rising, 
 took his favorite position on the rug. 
 
 "Really, Aunt Ellen, I would advise you to have him 
 re-christened, under the name of Timon," said Mr. Allston. 
 
 " No, no. I decidedly object to any such gratification of 
 
ST. KLMO. 219 
 
 his would-be classic freaks ; and, as he is evidently aping 
 Timon, though, unfortunately, nature denied him the Attic 
 salt requisite to flavor the character, I would suggest, as a 
 more suitable sobriquet, that bestowed on Louis X., ' L$ 
 Hutin ' — freely translated, ' The Quarrelsome ! ' What sa\ 
 you, St. Elmo ?" 
 
 Estelle walked up to her cousin and stood at his side. 
 
 " That it is very bad policy to borrow one's boxing- 
 gloves ; and I happened to overhear Edna Earl when she 
 made that same suggestion to Gordon Leigh, with reference 
 to my amiable temperament. However, there is a maxim 
 which will cover your retreat, and which you can conscien- 
 tiously utter with much emphasis, if your memory is only 
 as good in repeating all the things you may have heard. 
 Pereant qui ante nos nostra dixerunt ! Shall I translate ?" 
 
 She laughed lightly, and answered : 
 
 " So much for eavesdropping ! Of all the gentlemen of 
 my acquaintance, I should fancy you were the very last 
 who could afford to indulge in that amusement." 
 
 "Miss Estelle, is this your first, second, or third Punic 
 war ? You and St. Elmo, or rather, my cousin ' The Quar- 
 relsome,' seem to wage it in genuine Carthaginian style." 
 
 " I never signed a treaty, sir, and, consequently, keep no 
 records." 
 
 " Clinton, there is a chronic casus belli between us, the 
 original spring of which antedates my memory. But at 
 present Estelle is directing all her genius and energy to 
 effect, for my individual benefit, a practical reenactraent of 
 the old Papia Poppcea, which Augustus hurled at the 
 heads of all peaceful, happy bachelordom !" 
 
 For the first time during the conversation Edna glanced 
 up at Estelle, for, much as she disliked her, she regretted 
 this thrust ; but her pity was utterly wasted, and she waa 
 surprised to find her countenance calm and smiling. 
 
 Mr. Allston shrugged his shoulders, and Mrs. Murray 
 exclaimed : 
 
220 ST. ELMO. 
 
 " I sound a ti*uce ! For heaven's sake, St. Elmc lock up 
 your learning with your mummies, and when you will say 
 barbarous things, use language that will enable us to under- 
 stand that we are being snubbed. Now who do you sup- 
 pose compifjhends ' Papia Poppsea ' ? Tou are insufferably 
 pedantic !" 
 
 " My dear mother, do you remember ever to have read 
 or heard the celebrated reply of a certain urbane lexicog 
 rapher to the rashly ambitious individual who attempted 
 to find fault with his dictionary ? Permit me, most respect- 
 fully, to offer it for your consideration. 'I am bound to 
 furnish good definitions, but not brains to comprehend 
 them.' " 
 
 " I thought you told me you had spent some time in 
 China ?" said Miss Harding. 
 
 " So I did, and learned to read the i Liki.' " 
 
 " I was laboring under the misapprehension that even 
 strangers visiting that country caught the contagion of 
 filial respect, of reverence for parents, which is there incul 
 cated by law." 
 
 " Among Chinese maxims is one to this effect : ' All per- 
 sons are alike, and the only difference is in the education.' 
 Now, as you and I were raised in the same nursery, what 
 becomes of your veneration for Chinese canons ?" 
 
 " I think, sir, that it is a very great misfortune for those 
 who have to associate with you now that you were not 
 raised in Sparta, where it was every body's privilege to 
 whip their neighbor's vicious, spoiled children ! Such a 
 regimen would doubtless have converted you into an amia- 
 ble, or at least endurable member of society." 
 
 " That is problematical, my fair cousin, for if my provo- 
 cative playmate had accompanied me, I'll be sworn but I 
 think the supply of Spartan birch would have utterly failed 
 to sweeten my temper. I should have shared the fate of 
 those unfortunate boys who were whipped to death in La- 
 cedsemon, in honor of Diana; said whipping-festival (I here 
 
ST. ELMO. 221 
 
 remark parenthetically, for my mother's enjoyment) being 
 known in classic parlance as Diamastigosis /" 
 
 His mother answered laughingly : 
 
 " Estelle is quite right ; you contrived to grow up with- 
 out the necessary and healthful quota of sound whipping 
 which you richly deserved." 
 
 Mr. Murray did not seem to hear her words; he was" 
 looking down intently, smilingly into his cousin's handsome 
 face, and, passing his arm around her waist, drew her close 
 to his side. He murmured something that made her throw 
 her head quickly back against his shoulder and look up at 
 him. 
 
 " If such is the end of all your quarrels, it offers a pre- 
 mium for unamiability," said Mr. Allston, who had been 
 studying Edna's face, and now turned again to his cousin. 
 Curling the end of his moustache, he continued : 
 
 " St. Elmo, you have travelled more extensively than any 
 one I know, and under peculiarly favorable circumstances. 
 Of all the spots you have visited, which would you pro- 
 nounce the most desirable for a permanent residence ?" 
 
 " Have you an idea of expatriating yourself — of ' quitting 
 your country for your country's good ' ?" 
 
 " One never knows what contingencies may arise, and I 
 should like to avail myself of your knowledge ; for I feel 
 assured only very charming places would have detained 
 you long." 
 
 " Then, were I at liberty to select a home, tranquil, 
 blessed beyond all expression, I should certainly lose no time 
 in domesticating myself in the Peninsula of Mount Athos." 
 
 " Ah ! yes ; the scenery all along that coast is described 
 as surprisingly beautiful and picturesque." 
 
 " O bah ! the scenery is quite as grand in fifty other 
 places. Its peculiar attraction consists in something far 
 more precious." 
 
 " To what do you refer ?" 
 
 " Its marvelous and bewildering charm is to be found 
 
222 ST. ELMO. 
 
 entirely in the fact that, since the days of Constantine, na 
 woman has set foot on its peaceful soil ; and the happy 
 dwellers in that sole remaining earthly Eden are so vigi 
 lant, dreading the entrance of another Eve, that no female 
 animal is permitted to intrude upon the sacred precincts ! 
 The embargo extends even to cats, cows, dogs, lest the in- 
 nate female proclivity to make mischief should be found 
 dangerous in the brute creation. Constantine lived in the 
 latter part of the third and beginning of the fourth century. 
 Think of the divine repose, the unapproachable beatifica- 
 tion of residing in a land where no woman has even peeped 
 for fifteen hundred years !" 
 
 " May all good angels help me to steer as far as possible 
 from such a nest of cynics ! I would sooner confront an 
 army of Amazons headed by Penthesilea herself, than trust 
 myself among a people unhumanized and uncivilized by the 
 refining influence and companionship of women ! St. Elmo, 
 you are the most abominable misogamist I ever met, and 
 you deserve to fall into the clutches of those ' eight mighty 
 daughters of the plow,' to which Tennyson's Princess 
 consigned the Prince. Most heartily I pity you !" 
 
 " For shame, St. Elmo ! A stranger listening to your 
 gallant diatribe, would inevitably conclude that your mother 
 was as unnatural and unamiable as Lord Byron's; and that 
 I, your most devoted, meek, and loving cousin, was quite 
 as angelic as Miss Edgeworth's Modern Griselda !" 
 
 Affecting great indignation, Estelle attempted to quit his 
 side ; but, tightening his arm, Mr. Murray bowed and re- 
 sumed : 
 
 " Had your imaginary stranger ever heard of the science 
 of logic, or even dreamed of Whately or Mill, the conclu- 
 sion would, as you say, be inevitable. More fortunate than 
 Rasselas, I found a happy spot where the names of women 
 are never called, where the myths of Ate and Pandora are 
 forgotten, and where the only females that have successfully 
 run the rigid blockade are the tormenting fleas, that wage 
 
ST. ELMO. 223 
 
 a ceaseless war with the unoffending men, an I justify theii 
 nervous horror lest any other creature of the same sex 
 should smuggle herself into their blissful retreat. I have 
 seen crowned heads, statesmen, great military chieftains, 
 and geniuses, whose names are destined to immortality; 
 but standing here, reviewing my certainly extended ac- 
 quaintance, I swear 1 envy above all others that handsome 
 monk whom Curzon fcund at Simopetra, who had never 
 seen a woman ! He was transplanted to the Holy Moun- 
 tain while a mere infant, and though assured he had had a 
 mother, he accepted the statement with the same blind faith, 
 which was required for some of the religious dogmas he was 
 called on to swallow. I have frequently wondered whether 
 the ghost of poor Socrates would not be allowed, in con- 
 sideration of his past sufferings and trials, to wander for- 
 ever in that peaceful realm where even female ghosts are 
 tabooed." 
 
 " There is some terrible retribution in store for your 
 libels on our sex ! How I do long to meet some woman 
 brave and wily enough to marry and tame you, my chival- 
 ric cousin ! to revenge the insults you have heaped upon 
 her sisterhood !" 
 
 " By fully establishing the correctness of my estimate of 
 their amiability? That were dire punishment indeed foi 
 what you deem my heresies. If I could realize the possi- 
 bility of such a calamity, I should certainly bewail my fate 
 in the mournful words of that most astute of female wits, 
 who is reported to have exclaimed, in considering the an- 
 gelic idiosyncrasies of her gentle sisterhood, ' The only 
 thought which can reconcile me to being a woman is that 
 I shall not have to marry one !' " 
 
 The expression with which Mr. Murray regarded Estelle 
 reminded Edna of the account given by a traveller of the 
 playful mood of a lion, who, having devoured one gazelle, 
 kept his paw on another, and amid occasional growls, teased 
 and toyed with his victim. 
 
224 ST. ELMO. 
 
 As the orphan sat bending over her work listening to the 
 conversation, she asked herself scornfully : 
 
 " What hallucination has seized me ? The man is a 
 mocking devil, unworthy the respect or toleration of any 
 Christian woman. What redeeming trait can even my par- 
 tial eyes discover in his distorted, sinful nature ? Not one. 
 No, not one !" 
 
 She was rejoiced when he uttered a sarcasm or an opin- 
 ion that shocked her, for she hoped that his irony would 
 cauterize what she considered a cancerous spot in her heart. 
 
 " Edna, as you are not well, I advise you to put aside 
 that embroidery, which must try your eyes very severely," 
 said Mrs. Murray. 
 
 She folded up the piece of cambric and was putting it in 
 her basket, when Mr. Allston asked with more effrontery 
 than the orphan was prepared for : 
 
 " Miss Earl, have I not seen you before to-day ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " May I ask where ?" 
 
 " In a chestnut grove, where you shot Mr. Dent." 
 
 " Indeed ! Did you witness that affair ? It happened 
 many years ago." 
 
 There was not a shadow of pain or regret in his coun- 
 tenance or tone, and rising, Edna said with unmistakable 
 emphasis : 
 
 " I saw all that occurred, and may God preserve me from 
 ever witnessing another murder so revolting !" 
 
 In the silence that ensued she turned toward Mrs. Mur- 
 ray, bowed, and said as she quitted the parlor: 
 
 " Mrs. Murray, as I am not very well, you will please 
 excuse my retiring early." 
 
 " Just what you deserve for bringing the subject on tapis. 
 I warned you not to allude to it." As St. Elmo muttered 
 these words he pushed Estelle from him, and nodded to Mr. 
 Allston, who seemed as nearly nonplused as his habitual 
 impudence rendered possible. 
 
SI. ELMO. 225 
 
 Thoroughly dissatisfied with herself, and too restless to 
 sleep, the orphan passed the weary hours of night in en- 
 deavoring to complete a chapter on Buddhism, which she 
 had commenced some days before ; and the birds w ere 
 chirping their reveille, and the sky blanched and reddened 
 ere she laid down her pen and locked up her ms. Throw 
 ing open the blinds of the eastern window she stood foi 
 some time looking out, gathering strength from the holy 
 calm of the dewy morning, resolving to watch her own heart 
 ceaselessly, to crush promptly the strange feeling she had 
 found there, and to devote herself unreservedly to her 
 studies. At that moment the sound of horse's hoofs on the 
 stony walk attracted her attention, and she saw Mr. Murraj 
 riding from the stables. As he passed her window he 
 glanced up, their eyes met, and he lifted his hat and rode 
 on. Were those the same sinister, sneering features she 
 had looked at the evening before ? His face was paler, 
 sterner, and sadder than she had ever seen it, and covering 
 her own with her hands she murmured : 
 
 " God help me to resist that man's wicked magnetism ! 
 Grandpa! are you looking down on your poor little 
 Pearl ? Will you forgive me for allowing myself ever to 
 have thought kindly and tenderly of this strange tempta- 
 tion which Satan has sent to draw my heart away from my 
 God and my duty ? Ah Grandpa ! I will crush it — I will 
 conquer it ! I will not yield !" 
 
CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 VOIDING as much as possible the society of Mrs. 
 Murray's guests, as well as that of her son, 
 Edna turned to her books with increased energy 
 ^and steadfastness, while her manner was marked 
 by a studied reticence hitherto unnoticed. The house was 
 thronged with visitors, and families residing in the neighbor- 
 hood were frequently invited to dinner ; but the orphan 
 generally contrived on these occasions to have an engage- 
 ment at the parsonage ; and as Mrs. Murray no longer 
 required, or seemed to desire her presence, she spent much 
 of her time alone, and rarely saw the members of the house- 
 hold, except at breakfast. She noticed that Mr. Allston 
 either felt or feigned unbounded admiration of Estelle, who 
 graciously received his devoted attentions ; while Mr. 
 Murray now and then sneered openly at both, and appeared 
 daily more impatient to quit the home, of which he spoke 
 with undisguised disgust. As day after day, and week 
 after week slipped by without bringing tidings of Edna's 
 ms., her heart became oppressed with anxious forebodings, 
 and she found it difficult to wait patiently for the verdict 
 upon which hung all her hopes. 
 
 One Thursday afternoon, when a number of persons had 
 been invited to dine at Le Bocage, and Mrs. Murray was 
 engrossed by preparations for their entertainment, Edna 
 took her Greek books and stole away unobseiwed to the 
 parsonage, where she spent a quiet evening in reading aloud 
 from the Organon of Aristotle. 
 
ST. ELMO. . 227 
 
 It was quite late when Mr. Hammond took her home in 
 his buggy, and bade her good night at the door-step. Aa 
 she entered the house she saw several couples promenading 
 on the verandah, and heard Estelle and Clinton Allston 
 singing a duet from " II Trovatore." Passing the parlor 
 door one quick glance showed hej? Mr. Murray and Mr, Leigh 
 standing together under the chandelier — the latter gentle- 
 man talking earnestly, the former with his gaze fastened on 
 the carpet, and the chilling smile fixed on his lip. The 
 faces of the two presented a painfid contrast — one fair, 
 hopeful, bright with noble aims, and youthful yet manly 
 beauty ; the other swarthy, cold, repulsive as some bronze 
 image of Abaddon. For more than three weeks Edna had 
 not spoken to Mr. Murray, except to utter " good morning," 
 as she entered the dining-room, or passed him in the hall ; 
 and now with a sigh which she did not possess the courage 
 to analyze, she went up to her room and sat down to read. 
 
 Among the books on her desk was Machiavelli's Prince, 
 and History of Florence, and the copy, which was an ex- 
 ceedingly handsome one, contained a portrait of the author. 
 Between the regular features of the Florentine satirist and 
 those of the master of the house, Edna had so frequently 
 found a startling resemblance, that she one day mentioned 
 the subject to Mrs. Murray, who, after a careful examination 
 of the picture, was forced to admit, rather ungraciously, 
 that " they certainly looked somewhat alike." To-night as 
 the orphan lifted the volume from its resting-place, it 
 opened at the portrait, and she looked long at the handsome 
 face which, had the lips been thinner, and the hair thicker 
 and more curling at the temples, might have been daguer- 
 reotyped from that one down-stairs under the chandelier. 
 
 One maxim of the Prince had certainly been adopted 
 by Mr. Murray, " It is safer to be feared than to be loved ;" 
 and while the orphan detested the crafty and unscrupulous 
 policy of Niccolo Machiavelli, her reason told her that the 
 
228 ST. ELMO. 
 
 character of St. Elmo Murray was scarcely more worthy cf 
 respect. 
 
 She heard the guests take their departure, heard Mrs. 
 Murray ask Hagar whether " Edna had returned from the 
 parsonage," and then doors were closed and the house grew 
 silent. 
 
 Vain were the girl's efforts to concentrate her thoughts 
 on her hooks or upon her ms. ; they wandered toward the 
 portrait ; and finally remembering that she needed a book 
 of reference, she lighted a candle, took the copy of Machia- 
 velli, which she determined to put out of sight, and went 
 down to the library. The smell of a cigar aroused her sus- 
 picions as she entered, and glancing nervously around the 
 room she saw Mr Murray seated before the window. 
 
 His face was turned from her, and hoping to escape un- 
 noticed, she was retracing her steps when he rose. 
 
 " Come in, Edna. I am waiting for you, for I knew you 
 would be here some time before day." 
 
 Taking the candle from her hand, he held it close to her 
 face, and compressed his lips tightly for an instant. 
 
 " How long do you suppose your constitution will endure 
 the tax you impose upon it ? Midnight toil has already 
 robbed you of your color, and converted a rosy, robust child 
 into a pale, weary, hollow-eyed woman. . What do you 
 want here ?" 
 
 « The Edda." 
 
 " What business have you with Norse myths, with runes 
 and scalds and sagas ? You can't have the book. I carried 
 it to my rooms yesterday, and I am in no mood to-night to 
 play errand-boy for any one." 
 
 Edna turned to place the copy of Machia^elli on the 
 shelves, and he continued : 
 
 " It is a marvel that the index expurgatorius of your 
 saintly tutor does not taboo the infamous doctrines of the 
 greatest statesman of Italy. I am told that you do me the 
 honor to discover a marked likeness between his coun* 
 
£T. ELMO. 
 
 tenance and mine. May I flatter myself so Highly as to be- 
 lieve the statement ?" 
 
 " Even your mother admits the resemblance." 
 
 " Think you the analogy extends further than the mere 
 physique, or do you trace it only in the corporeal develop- 
 ment ?" 
 
 " I believe, sir, that your character is as much a counter- 
 part of his as your features; that your code is quite as 
 latitudinarian as his." 
 
 She had abstained from looking at him, but now hei eyes 
 met his fearlessly, and in their beautiful depths he read an 
 expression of loathing, such as a bird might evince for the 
 serpent whose glittering eyes enchained it. 
 
 " Ah ! at least your honesty is refreshing in these ac- 
 cursed days of hypocritical sycophancy ! I wonder how 
 much more training it will require before your lips learn 
 fashionable lying tricks ? But you understand me as little 
 as the world understood poor Machiavelli^ of whom Burko 
 justly remarked, ' He is obliged to bear the iniquities of 
 those whose maxims and rules of government he published. 
 His speculation is more abhorred than their practice.' We 
 are both painted blacker than " 
 
 " I came here, sir, to discuss neither his character nor 
 yours. It is a topic for which I have as little leisure as in- 
 clination. Good night, Mr. Murray." 
 
 He bowed profoundly, and spoke through set teeth : 
 
 "I regret the necessity of detaining you a moment 
 
 onger, but I believe you have been anxiously expecting a 
 
 letter for some time, as I hear that you every day anticipate 
 
 my inquiries at the post-office. This afternoon the express 
 
 agent gave me this package." 
 
 He handed her a parcel and smiled as he watched the 
 startled look, the expression of dismay, of keen disappoint- 
 ment that came into her face. 
 
 The frail bark had struck the reefs ; she felt that her 
 hopes wera going down to ruin, and her lips quivered with 
 
•230 ST. ELMO. 
 
 pain as she recognized Mr. Manning's bold chirography on 
 the paper wrapping. 
 
 " What is the matter, child ?" 
 
 " Something that concerns only myself." 
 
 " Are you unwilling to trust me with your secret, what> 
 evar it may be? It would sooner find betrayal from the 
 grinning skeletons of Atures in the cavern of Atarnipe 
 than from my lips." 
 
 Smothering a sigh she shook her head impatiently. 
 
 " That means that red-hot steel could not pinch it out of 
 you ; and that despite your boasted charity and love of hu- 
 manity you really entertain as little confidence in your race 
 as it is my pleasure to indulge. I applaud your wisdom, 
 but certainly did not credit you with so much craftiness. 
 My reason for not delivering the parcel more promptly,was 
 simply the wish to screen you from the Argus scrutiny with 
 which we are both favored by some now resident at Bocage. 
 As your letters subjected you to suspicion, I presumed it 
 would be more agreeable to you to receive them without 
 witnesses." 
 
 He took a letter from his pocket and gave it to her. 
 
 "Thank you, Mr. Murray ; you are very kind." 
 
 " Pardon me ! that is indeed a novel accusation ! Kind, 
 I never professed to be. I am simply not quite a brute, nor 
 altogether a devil of the most malicious and vindictive va- 
 riety, as you doubtless consider it your religious duty to 
 believe. However, having hopelessly lost my character, I 
 shall not trespass on your precious time by wasting words 
 in pronouncing a eulogy upon it, as Antony did over tie 
 stabbed corpse of Cassar ! I stand in much the same rela- 
 tion to society that King John did to Christendom, when 
 Innocent III. excommunicated him ; only I snap my fingers 
 in the face of my pontiff, the world, and jingle my Peter- 
 pence in my pocket ; whereas poor John's knees quaked 
 until he found himself at the feet of Innocent, meekly receiv- 
 ing Langton, and paying tribute ! Child, you are in trou- 
 
ST. ELMO. 231 
 
 ble; and your truthful countenance reveals it as unmislak 
 ably as did the Phrygian reeds that babbled of the personal 
 beauties of Midas. Of course it does not concern me — it is 
 not my business — and you certainly have as good a right as 
 any other child of Adam, to fret and cry and pout over 
 your girlish griefs, to sit up all night, ruin your eyes, and 
 grew rapidly and prematurely old and ugly. But when- 
 evar I chance to stumble over a wounded creature trying 
 to drag itself out of sight, I generally either wring its 
 neck, or set my heel on it to end its torment ; or else, if 
 there is a fair prospect of the injury healing by 'first in- 
 tention,' I take it gently on the tip of my boot, and help it 
 out of my way. Something has hurt you, and I suspect I 
 can aid you. Your anxiety about those letters proves that 
 you doubt your idol. You and your lover have quarrelled ? 
 Be frank with me ; tell me his name, and I swear, upon the 
 honor of a gentleman, I will rectify the trouble — will bring 
 him in contrition to your feet." 
 
 Whether he dealt in irony, as was his habit, or really 
 meant what he said, she was unable to determine ; and her 
 quick glance at his countenance showed her only a danger- 
 ous sparkle in his eyes. 
 
 " Mr. Murray, you are wrong in your conjecture ; I have 
 no lover." 
 
 " Oh ! call him what you please ! I shall not presume to 
 dictate your terms of endearment. I merely wish to say, 
 that if poverty stands forbiddingly between you and hap- 
 piness, why, command me, to the extent of half my fortune. 
 I will give you a dowry that shall equal the expectations 
 of any ambitious suitor in the land. Trust me, child, with 
 your sorrow, and I will prove a faithful friend. Who has 
 your heart ?" 
 
 The unexpected question alarmed and astonished hei-, 
 and a shivering dread took possession of her that he sus 
 pected her real feelings, and was laughing at her folly. 
 Treacherous blood began to paint confusion in her face, and 
 vehement and rapid were her words. 
 
232 ST. ELMO. 
 
 " God and my conscience own my heart. 1 know no man 
 to whom I would willingly give it; and the correspondence 
 to which you allude contains not a syllable of love. My 
 time is rather too valuable to be frittered away in such 
 t rifling." 
 
 " Edna, would you prefer to have me a sworn ally or an 
 avowed enemy?" 
 
 " I should certainly prefer to consider you as neither." 
 
 " Did you ever know me to fail in any matter which I 
 nad determined to accomplish ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir ; your entire life is a huge, hideous, woful fail- 
 ure, which mocks and maddens you." 
 
 " What the d — 1 do you know of my life ? It is not 
 ended yet, and it remains to be seen whether a grand suc- 
 cess is not destined to crown it. Mark you ! the grapple is 
 not quite over, and I may yet throttle the furies whose cursed 
 fingers clutched me in my boyhood. If I am conquered 
 finally, take my oath for it, I shall die so hard that the 
 howling hags will be welcome to their prey. Single-handed 
 I am fighting the world, the flesh, and the devil, and I want 
 neither inspection, nor sympathy, nor assistance. Do you 
 understand me ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir. And as I certainly desire to thrust neither 
 upon you, I will bid you good-night." 
 
 " One moment ! What does that package contain ?" 
 
 " The contents belong exclusively to me — could not possi- 
 bly interest you — would only challenge your sarcasm, and 
 furnish food for derision. Consequently, Mr. Murray, you 
 must excuse me if I decline answering your question." 
 
 "I'll wager my title to Le Bocage that I can guess so 
 accurately, that you will regret that you did not make a 
 grace of necessity, and tell me." 
 
 A vague terror overshadowed her features as she ex- 
 amined the seals on the package, and replied : 
 
 "That, sir, is impossible, if you are the honorable gentle* 
 man I have always tried to force myself to believe." 
 
8T. ELMO. 233 
 
 "Silly child! Do you imagine I would condescend to 
 soil my fingers with the wax that secures that trash ? That 
 I could stoop to an inspection of the correspondence of a 
 village blacksmith's granddaughter ? I will give you one 
 more chance to close the breach between us by proving 
 your trust. Edna, have you no confidence in me ?" 
 
 " None, Mr. Murray." 
 
 " Will you oblige me by looking me full in the face, and 
 repeating your flattering words ?" 
 
 She raised her head, and though her heart throbbed 
 fiercely as she met his eyes, her voice was cold, steady, and 
 resolute : 
 
 " None, Mr. Murray." 
 
 " Thank you. Some day those same red lips will humbly, 
 tremblingly crave my pardon for what they utter now ; and 
 then, Edna Earl, I shall take my revenge, and ) ou will look 
 back to this night and realize the full force of my parting 
 words — vce victis ! " 
 
 He stooped and picked up a bow of rose-colored ribbon 
 which had fallen from her throat, handed it to her, smiled, 
 and, with one of those low, graceful, haughty bows so indi- 
 cative of his imperious nature, he left the library. A mo- 
 ment after she heard his peculiar laugh, mirthless and bit- 
 ter, ring through the rotundo ; then the door was slammed 
 violently, and quiet reigned once more through the man- 
 sion. 
 
 Taking the candle from the table where Mr. Murray had 
 placed it, Edna went back to her own room and sat down 
 before the window. 
 
 On her lap lay the package and letter, which she no 
 longer felt any desire to open, and her hands drooped list 
 lessly at her side. The fact that her ms. was returned rung 
 a knell for all her sanguine hopes; for such was her confi- 
 dence in the critical acumen of Mr. Manning, that she deemed 
 it utterly useless to appeal to any other tribunal. A higher 
 one she knew Dot ; a lower she scorned to consult. 
 
234 ST. ELMO. 
 
 She felt like Alice Lisle on that clay of doom, when Jef 
 freys pronounced the fatal sentence ; and after a time, when 
 she summoned courage to open the letter, her cheeks were 
 wan and her lips compressed so firmly that their curves of 
 beauty were no longer traceable. 
 
 "Miss Eael: I return your ms., not because it is devoid 
 of merit, but from the conviction that were I to accept it, 
 the day would inevitably come when you would regret its 
 premature publication. While it contains irrefragable evi- 
 dence of extraordinary ability, and abounds in descriptions 
 of great beauty, your style is characterized by more strength 
 than polish, and is marred by crudities which a dainty pub- 
 lic would never tolerate. The subject you have undertaken 
 is beyond your capacity — no woman could successfully han- 
 dle it — and the sooner you realize your over-estimate of your 
 powers, the sooner your aspirations find their proper level, 
 the sooner you will succeed in your treatment of some theme 
 better suited to your feminine ability. Burn the inclosed 
 Ms., whose erudition and archaisms would fatally nauseate 
 the intellectual dyspeptics who read my ' Maga,' and write 
 sketches of home-life — descriptions of places and things that 
 you understand better than recondite analogies of ethica 1 
 creeds and mythologic systems, or the subtle lore of Coptic 
 priests. Remember that women never write histories nor 
 epics; never compose oratorios that go sounding down the 
 centuries ; never paint ' Last Suppers ' and ' Judgment Days ;' 
 though now and then one gives to the world a pretty bal- 
 lad that sounds sweet and soothing when sung over a cradle, 
 or another paints a pleasant little genre sketch which will 
 hang appropriately in some quiet corner, and rest and re- 
 fresh eyes that are weary with gazing at the sublime spirit- 
 ualism of Fra Bartolomeo, or the gloomy grandeur of Sal- 
 vator Rosa. If you have any short articles which you desire 
 to see ii? print, you may forward them, and I will select any 
 
ST. FLAW. 235 
 
 for publication, which I think you will not blush to acknow- 
 ledge in future years. 
 
 " Very respectfully, 
 
 Your obedient servant, 
 
 Douglass G. Manning." 
 
 Unwrapping the MS., she laid it with its death-warrant 
 in a drawer, then sat down, crossed her arms on the top of 
 her desk, and rested her head upon them. The face was 
 not concealed, and, as the light shone on it, an experienced 
 physiognomist would have read there profound disappoint- 
 ment, a patient weariness, but unbending resolution and no 
 vestige of bitterness. The lai'ge, thoughtful eyes were sad 
 but dry, and none who looked into them could have imag- 
 ined for an instant that she would follow the advice she had 
 so eagerly sought. During her long reverie, she wondered 
 whether all women were browbeaten for aspiring to liter- 
 ary honors ; whether the poignant pain and mortification 
 gnawing at her heart was the inexorable initiation-fee for 
 entrance upon that arena, where fame adjudges laurel 
 crowns, and reluctantly and sullenly drops one now and 
 then on female brows. To possess herself of the golden 
 apple of immortality, was a purpose from which she had 
 never swerved ; but how to baffle the dragon critics who 
 jealously guarded it was a problem whose solution puzzled 
 her. 
 
 To abandon her right to erudition formed no part of the 
 programme which she was mentally arranging, as she sat 
 there watching a moth singe its filmy, spotted wings in the 
 gas-flame ; for she was obstinately wedded to the unpar- 
 donable heresy, that, in the nineteenth century, it was a 
 woman's privilege to be as learned as Cuvier, or Sir Wil- 
 liam Hamilton, or Humboldt, provided the learning waa 
 accurate, and gave out no hollow, counterfeit ring under 
 the merciless hammering of the dragons. If women chose 
 to blister their fair, tender hands in turning the windlass 
 
236 ST. ELMO. 
 
 of that fabled well where truth is hidden, and bruised theii 
 pretty, white feet in groping finally on the rocky bottom, 
 was the treasure which they ultimately discovered and 
 dragged to light any the less truth because stentorian, 
 manly voices were not the first to shout Eureka ? 
 
 She could not understand why, in the vineyard of letters, 
 the laborer was not equally worthy of hire, whether the 
 work was successfully accomplished in the toga virilis or 
 the gay kirtle of contadina. 
 
 Gradually the expression of pain passed from the girl's 
 countenance, and, lifting her head, she took from her desk 
 several small MBS., which she had carefully written from 
 time to time, as her reading suggested the ideas embodied 
 in the articles. Among the number were two, upon which 
 she had bestowed much thought, and which she determined 
 to send to Mr. Manning. 
 
 One was an elaborate description of that huge iconoclasm 
 attributed to Alcibiades, and considered by some philoso- 
 phic students of history as the primeval cause of the ruin 
 of Athens. In order to reflect all possible light on this 
 curious occurrence, she had most assiduously gleaned the 
 pages of history, and massed the grains of truth ; had stud- 
 ied maps of the city and descriptions of travellers, that she 
 might thoroughly understand the topography of the scene 
 of the great desecration. So fearful was she of committing 
 some anachronism, or of soaring on the wings of fancy be- 
 yond the realm of well-authenticated facts, that she searched 
 the ancient records to ascertain whether on that night in 
 May, 415 B.C., a full or a new moon looked down on the 
 bronze helmet of Minerva Promachus and the fretted frieze 
 of the Parthenon. 
 
 The other ms., upon which she had expended much 
 labor, was entitled " Keeping the Vigil of St. Martin under 
 the Pines of Griitli ;" and while her vivid imagination 
 reveled in the weird and solemn surroundings of the lonely 
 place of rendezvous, the sketch contained a glowing and 
 
ST. ELMV. 287 
 
 eloquent tribute to the liberators of HeUetia, me Confeder- 
 ates of Schweitz, Uri, and Under walden. 
 
 Whether Mr. Manning would consider either of these 
 articles worthy of preservation in the pages of his magazine, 
 3he thought exceedingly doubtful ; but she had resolved to 
 make one more appeal to his fastidious judgment, and ac- 
 cordingly sealed and directed the roll of paper. 
 
 Weary but sleepless, she pushed back the heavy folds of 
 hair that had fallen on her forehead, brightened the gas- 
 light, and turned to the completion of a chapter in that ms. 
 which the editor had recommended her to commit to the 
 flames. So entirely was she absorbed in her work that the 
 hours passed unheeded. ~Now and then, when her thoughts 
 failed to flow smoothly into graceful sentence moulds, she 
 laid aside her pen, walked up and down the floor, turning 
 the idea over and over, fitting it first to one phrase, then to 
 another, until the verbal drapery fully suited her. 
 
 The whistle of the locomotive at the depot told her that 
 it was four o'clock before her task was accomplished ; and, 
 praying that God's blessing would rest upon it, she left it 
 unfinished, and threw herself down to sleep. 
 
 But slumber brought no relaxation to the busy brain that 
 toiled on in fitful, grotesque dreams ; and when the sunshine 
 streamed through the open window at the foot of her bed, 
 it showed no warm flush of healthful sleep on the beautiful 
 face, but weariness and pallor. Incoherent words stirred 
 the lips, troubled thought knitted the delicately-arched 
 brows, and the white, dimpled arms were tossed restlessly 
 above her head. 
 
 Was the tired midnight worker worthy of her hire ? The 
 world would one day pay her wages in the currency of 
 gibes, and denunciation, and envious censoriousness ; but 
 the praise of men had not tempted her to the vineyard, and 
 she looked in faith to Him " who seeth in secret," and 
 whose rewards are at variance with those of the task-mas- 
 ters of earth. "Wherefore," O lonely but conscientious 
 
238 ST - elmo 
 
 student ! " be ye steadfast, immovable, always abounding 
 in the work of the Lord, forasmuch as ye kmow that your 
 labor is not in vain !" 
 
 Literary women, whose avocation is selected simply be- 
 cause they fancy it easier to write than to sew for bread, 
 or because they covet the applause and adulation heaped 
 upon successful genius, or desire mere notoriety, generally 
 barter their birthright of quiet, life-long happiness in the 
 j^eaceful seclusion of home for a nauseous mess of poisoned 
 pottage that will not appease their hunger ; and they go 
 clown to untimely graves disappointed, imbittered, hating 
 the public for whose praises they toiled, cheated out of the 
 price for which they bargained away fireside joys and do- 
 mestic serenity. 
 
 The fondest hope of Edna's heart was to be useful in 
 " her day and generation " — to be an instrument of some 
 good to her race ; and while she hoped for popularity as an 
 avenue to the accomplishment of her object, the fear of 
 ridicule and censure had no power to deter her from the 
 line of labor upon which she constantly invoked the guid- 
 ance and blessing of God. 
 
 The noble words of Kepler rang a ceaseless silvery chime 
 in her soul, and while they sustained and strengthened her, 
 she sought to mould her life in harmony -with their sublime 
 teachings : 
 
 " Lo ! I have done the work of my life with that power 
 of intellect which Thou hast given. If I, a worm before 
 thine eyes, and born in the bonds of sin, have brought forth 
 any thing that is unworthy of thy counsels, inspire me with 
 thy spirit, that I may correct it. If by the wonderful 
 beauty of thy works I have been led into boldness — if I have 
 sought my own honor among men as I advanced in the woik 
 which was destined to thine honor, pardon me in kindness 
 and charity, and by thy grace grant that my teaching may 
 be to thy glory and the welfare of all men. Praise ye the 
 Lord, ye heavenly harmonies ! and ye that understand the 
 new harmonies, praise the Lord '" 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 R. HAMMOND, are you ill ? What can be the 
 matter ?" 
 
 Edna threw down her books and put her 
 hand on the old man's shoulder. His face was 
 concealed in his arms, and his half-stifled groan told that 
 some fierce trial had overtaken him. 
 
 " O child ! I am troubled, perplexed, and my heart is 
 heavy with a sorrow which I thought I had crushed." 
 
 He raised his head for a moment, looked sadly into the 
 girl's, face, and dropped his furrowed cheek on his hand. 
 
 " Has any thing happened since I saw you yesterday ?" 
 
 " Yes ; I have been surprised by the arrival of some of 
 my relatives, whose presence in my house revives very 
 painful associations connected with earlier years. My niece, 
 Mrs. Powell, and her daughter Gertrude, came very unex- 
 pectedly last night to make me a visit of some length ; and 
 to you, my child, I can frankly say the surprise is a painful 
 one. Many years have elapsed since I received any tidings 
 of Agnes Powell, and I knew not until she suddenly ap- 
 peared before me last night that she was a widow and be- 
 reft of a handsome fortune. She claims a temporary home 
 tinder my roof; and though she has caused me much suf- 
 fering, I feel that I must endeavor to be patient and kind 
 to her and her child. I have endured many trials, but this 
 is the severest I have yet been called to pass through." 
 
 Distressed by the look of anguish on his pale face, Edna 
 
240 ST. ELMO. 
 
 took his Land between both hers, and stroking it caress- 
 ingly said : 
 
 " My dear sir, if it is your duty, God will strengthen and 
 sustain you. Cheer up ; I can't bear to see you looking so 
 troubled. A cloud on your face, my dear Mr. Hammond, 
 is to me like an eclipse of the sun. Pray do not keep me 
 in shadow." 
 
 " If I could know that no mischief would result from 
 Agnes's presence, I would not regret it so earnestly. I do 
 not wish to be uncharitable or suspicious ; but I fear that 
 her motives are not such as I could " 
 
 " May I intrude, Uncle Allan ?" 
 
 The stranger's voice was very sweet and winning, and as 
 she entered the room Edna could scarcely repress an excla- 
 mation of admiration ; for the world sees but rarely such 
 perfect beauty as was the portion of Agnes Powell. 
 
 She was one of those few women who seem the pets of 
 time, whose form and features catch some new grace and 
 charm from every passing year ; and but for the tall, lovely 
 girl who clung to her hand and called her " mother," a 
 stranger would have believed her only twenty-six or eight. 
 
 Fair, rosy, with a complexion fresh as a child's, and a face 
 faultless in contour as that of a Greek goddess, it was im- 
 possible to resist the fascination which she exerted over all 
 who looked upon her. Her waving yellow hair flashed in 
 the morning sunshine, and as she raised one hand to shadt> 
 her large, clear, blue eyes, her open sleeve fell back, dis- 
 closing an arm dazzlingly white and exquisitely moulded. 
 As Mr. Hammond introduced his pupil to his guests, Mrs 
 Powell smiled pleasantly, and pressed the offered hand ; 
 but the soft eyes, blue and cold as the stalactites of Capri, 
 scanned the orphan's countenance, and when Edna had seen 
 fully into their depths she could not avoid recalling Heine's 
 poem of the Loreley. 
 
 " My daughter Gertrude promises herself much pleasure 
 in your society, Miss Earl ; for uncle's praises prepare her 
 
ST. ELMO. 241 
 
 to expect a most charming companion. She is about your 
 age, but I fear you will find great disparity in her attain- 
 ments, as she has not been so fortunate as to receive her 
 education from Uncle Allan. You are, I believe, an adopt- 
 ed daughter of Mrs. Murray ?" 
 
 " No, madam ; only a resident in her house until my 
 education is pronounced sufficiently advanced to justify my 
 teaching." 
 
 "I have a friend, (Miss Harding,) who has recently re- 
 moved to Le Bocage, and intends making it her home. 
 How is she ?" 
 
 " Quite well, I believe." 
 
 Mr. Hammond left the study for a moment, and Mrs. 
 Powell added : 
 
 " Her friends at the North tell me that she is to marry 
 her cousin, Mr. Murray, very soon." 
 
 " I had not heard the report." 
 
 " Then you think there are no grounds for the rumor ?" 
 
 " Indeed, madam, I know nothing whatever concerning 
 the matter." 
 
 " Estelle is handsome and brilliant." 
 
 Edna made no reply; and after waiting a few seconds, 
 Mrs. Powell asked : 
 
 " Does Mr. Murray go much into society now ?" 
 
 " I believe not." 
 
 " Is he as handsome as ever ?" 
 
 " I do not know when you saw him last, but the ladies 
 here seem rather to dread than admire him. Mrs. Powell, 
 you are dipping your sleeve into your uncle's inkstand." 
 
 She by no means relished this catechism, and resolved to 
 end it. Picking up her books, she said to Mr. Hammond, 
 who now stood in the door : 
 
 " I presty&e I need not wait, as you will be too much oc- 
 cupied to-day to attend to my lessons." 
 
 " Yes ; I must give you holiday until Monday." 
 
 " Miss Earl, may I trouble you to hand this letter to Miss 
 
242 ST. ELMO. 
 
 Harding? It was intrusted to my care by one of he» 
 friends in New- York. Pray be so good as to deliver it, 
 with my kindest regards." 
 
 As Edna left the house, the pastor took his hat from the 
 rack in the hall, and walked silently beside her until she 
 reached the gate. 
 
 " Mr. Hammond, your niece is the most beautiful woman 
 I have ever seen." 
 
 He sighed heavily and answered hesitatingly : 
 
 " Yes, yes. She is more beautiful now than when she 
 first grew up." 
 
 " Plow long has she been a. widow?" 
 
 " Not quite a year." 
 
 The troubled expression settled once more over his placid 
 face, and when Edna bade him good morning, and had 
 walked some distance, she happened to look back, and saw 
 him still leaning on the little gate, under the drooping 
 honeysuckle tendrils, with his gray head bent down on hia 
 hand. 
 
 That Mrs. Powell was in some way connected with Mr. 
 Murray's estrangement from the minister Edna felt assured, 
 and the curiosity which the inquiries of the former had 
 betrayed, told her that she must be guarded in her inter* 
 course with a woman who was an object of distrust even 
 to her own uncle. 
 
 Very often she had been tempted to ask Mr. Hammond 
 why Mr. Murray so sedulously shunned him ; but the shadow 
 which fell upon his countenance whenever St. Elmo's name 
 was accidentally mentioned, made her shrink from alluding 
 to a subject which he evidently avoided discussing. 
 
 Before she had walked beyond the outskirts of the 
 village Mr. Leigh joined her, and she felt the color rise in 
 her cheeks as his fine eyes rested on her foce and his hand 
 pressed hers. "You must forgive me for telling you how 
 bitterly I was disappointed in not seeing you two days 
 ago. Why did you absent yourself from the table ?" 
 
ST. ELMO. 243 
 
 " Because I had no desire to meet Mrs. Murray's guests, 
 and preferred to spend my time with Mr. Hammond." 
 
 " If he were not old enough to be your grandfather. I 
 believe I should be jealous of him. Edna, do not be offended, 
 I am so anxious about you — so pained at the change in your 
 appearance. Last Sunday as you sat in church I noticed 
 how very pale and worn you looked, and with what weari- 
 ness you leaned vour head upon your hand. Mrs. Murray 
 says you are very well, but I know better. You are either 
 sick in body or mind ; which is it ?" 
 
 '"iN" either, Mr. Leigh. I am quite well, I assure you." 
 
 "You are grieved about something, which you are un- 
 willing to confide to me. Edna, it is a keen pain that some- 
 times brings that quiver to your lips, and if you would only 
 tell me ! Edna, I know that L " 
 
 " You conjure up a spectre. I have nothing to confide, 
 and there is no trouble which you can relieve." They 
 walked on silently for a while, and then Gordon said : 
 
 " I am going away day after to-morrow, to be absent at 
 least for several months, and I have come to ask a favor 
 which you are too generous to deny. I want your ambro- 
 type or photograph, and I hope you will give it to me 
 without hesitation." 
 
 " I have never had a likeness of any kind taken." 
 
 " There is a good artist here ; will you not go to-day and 
 have one taken for me ?" 
 
 " No, Mr. Leigh." 
 
 " Edna ! why not ?" 
 
 " Because I do not wish you to think of or remember 
 me. The sooner you forget me entirely, save as a mere 
 friend, the happier we both shall be." 
 
 " But that is impossible. If you withhold your picture it 
 will do no good, for I have your face here in my heart, and 
 you can not take that image from me." 
 
 " At least I will not encourage feelings which can bring 
 onlj pain to me and disappointment to yourself. I consider 
 
214 ST. ELMO. 
 
 it unprincipled and contemptible in a woman to foster or 
 promote in any degree an affection which, she knows she 
 can never reciprocate. If I had fifty photographs, I would 
 not give you one. My dear friend, let the past be forgotten ; 
 it saddens me whenever I think of it, and is a barrier to all 
 pleasant friendly intercourse. Good-by, Mr. Leigh. You 
 have my best wishes on your journey." 
 
 " Will you not allow me to see you home ?" 
 
 "I think it is best — I prefer that you should not. Mr 
 Leigh, promise me that you will struggle against this feel- 
 ing, which distresses me beyond expression." 
 
 She turned and put out her hand. He shook his head 
 mournfully and said as he left her : 
 
 " God bless you ! It will be a dreary, dreary season with 
 me till I return and see your face again. God preserve you 
 till then !" 
 
 Walking rapidly homeward, Edna wondered why she 
 could not return Gordon Leigh's affection — why his noble 
 face never haunted her dreams instead of another's — of 
 which she dreaded to think. 
 
 Looking rigorously into the past few weeks, she felt that 
 long before she was aware of the fact, an image to which 
 she refused homage, must have 6tood between her heart 
 and Gordon's. 
 
 When she reached home she inquired for Miss Harding, 
 and was informed that she and Mrs. Murray had gone visit- 
 ing with Mr. Allston ; had taken lunch, and would not re- 
 turn until late in the afternoon. Hagar told her that Mr. 
 Murray had started at daylight to one of his plantations 
 about twelve miles distant, and would not be back in time 
 for dinner ; and rejoiced at the prospect of a quiet day, she 
 determined to complete the chapter which she had left un- 
 finished two nights previous. 
 
 Needing a reference in the book which Mr. Murray had 
 taken from the library, she went up to copy it ; and as she 
 sat down in the sitting-room and opened the volume to 
 
ST. ELMO. 245 
 
 nnd the passage she required, a letter slipped out and fell 
 at her feet. She glanced at the envelope as she picked it 
 up, and her heart bounded painfully as she saw Mr. Mur- 
 ray's name written in Mr. Manning's peculiar and unmis- 
 takable chirography. 
 
 The postmark and date corresponded exactly with the 
 one that she had received the night Mr. Murray gave her 
 the roll of ms., and the strongest temptation of her life here 
 assailed her. She would almost have given her right hand 
 to know the contents of that letter, and Mr. Murray's con- 
 fident assertion concerning the package was now fully ex- 
 plained. He had recognized the handwriting on her letters, 
 and suspected her ambitious scheme. He was not a stranger 
 to Mr. Manning, and must have known the nature of their 
 correspondence ; consequently his taunt about a lover was 
 entirely ironical. 
 
 She turned the unsealed envelope over and over, longing 
 to know what it contained. 
 
 The house was deserted — there was, she knew, no human 
 being nearer than the kitchen, and no eye but God's upon 
 her. She looked once more at the superscription of the 
 letter, sighed, and put it back into the book without open- 
 ing the envelope. 
 
 She copied into her note-book the reference she was seek 
 ing, and replacing the volume on the window-sill where 
 she had found it, went back to her own room and tried to 
 banish the subject of the letter from her mind. 
 
 After all, it was not probable that Mr. Murray had ever 
 mentioned her name to his correspondent ; and as she had 
 not alluded to Le Bocage or its inmates in writing to Mr. 
 Manning, St. Elmo's hints concerning her ms. were merely 
 based on conjecture. She felt as if she would rather face 
 any other disaster sooner than have him scoffing at her 
 daring project ; and more annoyed and puzzled than she 
 chose to confess, she resolutely bent her thoughts upon her 
 work. 
 
24:6 ST. ELMO. 
 
 It was almost dusk before Mrs. Murray and Lor guests 
 returned ; and when it grew so dark that Edna could not 
 see the lines of her paper, she smoothed her hair, changed 
 her dress, and went down to the parlor. 
 
 Mrs. Murray was resting in a corner of the sofa, fanning 
 herself vigorously, and Mr. Allston smoked on the verandah 
 and talked to her through the open window. 
 
 " Well, Edna, where have you been all day ?" 
 
 " With my books." 
 
 " I am tired almost to death ! This country visiting is 
 an intolerable bore ! I am worn out with small talk and 
 backbiting. Society nowadays is composed of cannibals — 
 infinitely more to be dreaded than the Fijians — who only 
 devour the body and leave the character of an individual 
 intact. Child, let us have some music by way of variety. 
 Play that symphony of Beethoven that I heard you prac- 
 tising last week." 
 
 She laid her head on the arm of the sofa, and shut her 
 eyes, and Edna opened the piano and played the piece de- 
 signated. 
 
 The delicacy of her touch enabled her to render it with 
 peculiar pathos and power ; and she })layed on and on, un- 
 mindful of Miss Harding's entrance — oblivious of every thing 
 but the sublime strains of the great master. 
 
 The light streamed over her face, and showed a gladness, 
 an exaltation of expression there, as if her soul had broken 
 from its earthly moorings, and was making its way joyfully 
 into the infinite 6ea of eternal love and blessedness. 
 
 At last her fingers fell from the keys, and as she rose 
 sks saw Mr. Murray standing outside of the parlor door, 
 with his fingers shading his eyes. 
 
 He came in soon after, and his mother held out her hand, 
 saying : 
 
 " Here is a seat, my son. Have you just returned ?" 
 
 " No, I have been here some time." 
 
 " How are affairs at the plantation ?" 
 
ST. ELMO. 247 
 
 " I really have no idea." 
 
 " Why ? I thought you went there to-day ?" 
 
 " I started; but found my horse so lame, that I went nc 
 farther than town." 
 
 "Indeed! Hagar told me you had not returned, when I 
 came in from visiting." 
 
 " Like some other people of my acquaintance, II agar 
 reckons without her host. I have been at home ever since 
 twelve o'clock, and saw the carriage as you drove off." 
 
 " And pray how have you employed yourself, you incor- 
 rigible ignis fatuus f O my cousin ! you are well named. 
 Aunt Ellen must have had an intuitive insight into your 
 character when she had you christened St. Elmo ; only she 
 
 should have added the ' Fire ' How have you spent 
 
 the day, sir ?" 
 
 " Most serenely and charmingly, my fair cousin, in the 
 solitude of my den. If my mother could give me satisfac- 
 tory security that all my days would prove as quiet and 
 happy as this has been, I would enter into bonds never to 
 quit the confines of Le Bocage again. Ah ! the indescriba- 
 ble relief of feeling that nothing was expected of me ; that 
 the galling gyves of hospitality and etiquette were snapped, 
 and that I was entirely free from all danger of intrusion. 
 This day shall be marked with a white stone ; for I entered 
 my rooms at twelve o'clock, and remained there in uninter- 
 rupted peace till five minutes ago ; when I put on my so- 
 cial shackles once more, and hobbled down to entertain my 
 fair guest." 
 
 Edna was arranging some sheets of music that were scat- 
 tered on the piano ; but as he mentioned the hour of his re- 
 turn, she remembered that the clock struck one just as she 
 went into the sitting-room where he kept his books and 
 cabinets ; and she knew now that he was at that very time 
 in the inner room, beyond the arch. She put her hand to 
 her forehead, and endeavored to recollect the appearance of 
 the apartment. The silk curtains, she was sure, were hang* 
 
248 ST. ELMO. 
 
 ing over the arch; for she remembered distinctly luvkg 
 noticed a large and very beautiful golden butterfly which 
 had buttered in from the terrace, and was flitting over the 
 glowing folds that fell from the carved intrados to the mar- 
 ble floor. But though screened from her view, he must 
 have heard and seen her, as she sat before his book-case, 
 turning his letter curiously between her fingers. 
 
 She dared not look up, and bent down to examine the 
 music, so absorbed in her own emotions of chagrin and 
 astonishment, that she heard not one word of what Miss 
 Harding was saying. She felt well assured that if Mr. Mur- 
 ray were cognizant of her visit to the " Egyptian museum," 
 he intended her to know it, and she knew that his counte- 
 nance would solve her painful doubt. 
 
 Gathering up her courage, she raised her eyes quickly, in 
 the direction of the sofa, where he had thrown himself, and 
 met just what she most dreaded, his keen gaze riveted on 
 her face. Evidently he had been waiting for this eager, 
 startled, questioning glance ; for instantly he smiled, in- 
 clined his head slightly, and arched his eyebrows, as if 
 much amused. Never before had she seen his face so 
 bright and happy, so free from bitterness. If he had said, 
 " Yes, I saw you ; are you not thoroughly discomfited, and 
 ashamed of your idle curiosity ? What interest can you 
 possibly have, in carefully studying the outside of my let- 
 ters ? How do you propose to mend matters ?" — he could 
 not have more fully conveyed his meaning. Edna's face 
 crimsoned, and she put up her hand to shield it ; but Mr. 
 Murray turned toward the window, and coolly discussed 
 the merits of a popular race-horse, upon which Clinton 
 Allston lavished extravagant praise. 
 
 Estelle leaned against the window, listening to the con- 
 troversy, and after a time, when the subject seemed very 
 effectually settled by an oath from the master of the house, 
 Edna availed herself of the lull in the conversation, to de- 
 Liver the letter. 
 
ST. ELMO. 249 
 
 " Miss Harding, I was requested to hand you this." 
 
 Estelle broke the seal, glanced rapidly over the letter,, and 
 exclaimed : 
 
 " Is it possible ? Can she be here ? Who gave you this 
 letter ?" 
 
 " Mrs. Powell, Mr. Hammond's niece." 
 
 " Agnes Powell ?" 
 
 " Yes. Agnes Powell." 
 
 During the next three minutes one might have distinctly 
 heard a pin fall, for the ticking of two watches was very 
 audible. 
 
 Estelle glanced first at her cousin, then at her aunt, then 
 back at her cousin. Mrs. Murray involuntarily laid her 
 hand on her son's knee, and watched his face with an ex- 
 pression of breathless anxiety ; and Edna saw that, though 
 his lips blanched, not a muscle moved, not a nerve twitched ; 
 and only the deadly hate, that appeared to leap into his 
 large shadowy eyes, told that the name stirred some bitter 
 memory. 
 
 The silence was growing intolerable when Mr. Murray 
 turned his gaze full on Estelle, and said in his usual sarcastic 
 tone : 
 
 " Have you seen a ghost ? Your letter must contain tid- 
 ings of Victor's untimely demise ; for, if there is such a thing 
 as retribution, such a personage as Nemesis, I swear that 
 poor devil of a Count has crept into her garments and corne 
 to haunt you. Did he cut his white womanish throat with 
 a penknife, or smother himself with charcoal fumes, or light 
 a poisoned candle and let his poor homoeopathic soul drift out 
 dreamily into eternity ? If so, Gabriel will require a power- 
 ful microscope to find him. Notwithstanding the fact that 
 you destined him for my cousin, the little curly creature 
 always impressed me as being a stray specimen of an other- 
 wise extinct type of intellectual Lacrymatoria. Is he really 
 dead ? Peace to his infusorial soul ! Who had the courage 
 to write and break the melancholy tidings to you? Or 
 
250 ST. $LMO, 
 
 perhaps, after all, it is only the ghost of yo.ir own conscience 
 that has brought that scared look into your face." 
 
 She laughed and shrugged her shoulders. 
 
 "How insanely jealous you are of Victor! He's neither 
 dead nor dreaming of suicide, but enjoying himself vastly 
 in Baden-Baden. Edna, did Mrs. Powell bring Gertrude 
 with her ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "Do you know how long she intends remaining at the 
 parsonage ?" 
 
 " I think her visit is of indefinite duration." 
 
 "Edna, will you oblige me by inquiring whether Henry 
 intends to give us any supper to-night ? He forgets we have 
 had no dinner. St. Elmo, do turn down that gas — the wind 
 makes it flare dreadfully." 
 
 Edna left the room to obey Mrs. Murray's command, and 
 did not return; but, after the party seated themselves at 
 the table, she noticed that the master seemed in unusually 
 high spirits ; and when the meal was concluded, he chal- 
 lenged his cousins to a game of billiards. 
 
 They repaired to the rotunda, and Mrs. Murray beckoned 
 to Edna to follow her. As they entered her apartment she 
 carefully closed the door. 
 
 " Edna, when did Mrs. Powell arrive ?" 
 
 " Last night." 
 
 " Did you see her ?" 
 
 " Yes, ma'am." 
 
 " Is she very pretty ?" 
 
 " She is the most beautiful woman I ever met." 
 
 " How did Mr. Hammond receive her ?" 
 
 " Her visit evidently annoys him, but he gave me uo 
 explanation of the matter, which I confess puzzles me. I 
 should suppose her society would cheer and interest hhn." 
 
 " pooh ! Talk of what you understand. She surely 
 ha3 not come here to live ?" 
 
 " I think he fears she has. She is rery ooor." 
 
ST. ELMO. 251 
 
 Mrs. Murray set her teeth together, and muttered seme* 
 thing which her companion did not understand. 
 
 " Edna, is she handsomer than Estelle ?" 
 
 " Infinitely handsomer, I think. Indeed, they are so to- 
 tally unlike it would be impossible to compare them. Your 
 niece is very fine-looking, very commanding; Mrs. Powell 
 is exquisitely beautiful." 
 
 " But she is no longer young. She has a grown daugh 
 ter." 
 
 " True ; but in looking at her you do not realize it. Did 
 you never see her ?" 
 
 " No ; and I trust I never may ! I am astonished that 
 Mr. Hammond can endure the sight of her. You say he 
 has told you nothing about her ?" 
 
 " Nothing which explains the chagrin her presence seems 
 to cause." 
 
 " He is very wise. But, Edna, avoid her society as much 
 as possible. She is doubtless very fascinating ; but I do 
 not like what I have heard of her, and prefer that you 
 should have little conversation or intercourse with her. 
 On the whole, you might as well stay at home now ; it is 
 very warm, and you can study without Mr. Hammond's as- 
 sistance." 
 
 " You do not mean that my visits must cease alto- 
 gether ?" 
 
 " Oh ! no ; go occasionally — once or twice a week — but 
 certainly not every day, as formerly. And, Edna, be careful 
 not to mention that woman's name again ; I dislike her 
 exceedingly." 
 
 The orphan longed to ask for an explanation, but was too 
 proud to solicit confidence so studiously withheld. 
 
 Mrs. Murray leaned back in her large rocking-chair and 
 fell into a reverie. Edna waited patiently for some time, 
 and finally rose. 
 
 " Mrs. Murray, have you any thing more to say to me to« 
 night ? You look very much fatigued !" 
 
252 ST. ELMO. 
 
 " Nothing, I believe. Good-night, child. Send Ha gar 
 to me." 
 
 Edna went back to her desk and resolutely turned to hei 
 work ; for it was one of the peculiar traits of her character 
 that she could at will fasten her thoughts upon whatever 
 subject she desired to master. All irrelevant ideas were 
 sternly banished until such season as she chose to give them 
 audience ; and to-night she tore her mind from the events of 
 the day, and diligently toiled among the fragments of Scan- 
 dinavian lore for the missing links in her mythologic chain. 
 
 Now and then peals of laughter from the billiard-room 
 startled her ; and more than once Mr. Murray's clear, cold 
 voice rose above the subdued chatter of Estelle and Clinton. 
 
 After a while the game ended, good-nights were ex- 
 changed, the party dispersed, doors were closed, and all 
 grew silent. 
 
 While Edna wrote on, an unexpected sound arrested her 
 pen. She listened, and heard the slow walk of a horse be- 
 neath her window. As it passed she rose and looked out. 
 The moon was up, and Mr. Murray was riding down the 
 avenue. 
 
 The girl returned to her ms., and worked on without 
 intermission for another hour ; then the last paragraph was 
 carefully punctuated, the long and difficult chapter was 
 finished. She laid aside her pen, and locked her desk. 
 
 Shaking down the mass of hair that had been tightly 
 coiled at the back of her head, she extinguished the light, 
 and drawing a chair to the window, seated herself. 
 
 Silence and peace brooded over the world ; not a sound 
 broke the solemn repose of nature. 
 
 The summer breeze had rocked itself to rest in the elm 
 boughs, and only the waning moon seemed alive and toil- 
 ing as it climbed slowly up a cloudless sky, passing starry 
 sentinels whose nightly challenge was lost in vast vortices 
 of blue, as they paced their ceaseless rounl in the mighty 
 camp of constellations. 
 
 With her eyes fixed on the gloomy, groined archway of 
 
ST. ELMO. 258 
 
 elms, where an occasional slip of moonshine siA ared the 
 ground, Edna watched and waited. The blood beat heavily 
 in her temples and throbbed sullenly at her heart ; but she 
 sal mute and motionless as the summer night, reviewing all 
 that had occurred during the day. 
 
 Presently the distant sound of hoofs on the rocky road 
 leading to town fell upon her strained ear ; the hard, quick 
 gallop ceased at the gate, and very slowly Mr. Murray 
 walked his horse up the dusky avenue, and on toward the 
 stable. 
 
 From the shadow of her muslin curtain, Edna looked 
 down on the walk beneath, and after a few moments saw 
 him coming to the house. 
 
 He paused on the terrace, took off his hat, swept back 
 the thick hair from his forehead, and stood looking out 
 over the quiet lawn. 
 
 Then a heavy, heavy sigh, almost a moan, seemed to 
 burst from the depths of his heart, and he turned and went 
 into the house. 
 
 The night was far spent, and the moon had cradled her- 
 self on the tree-tops, when Edna raised her face all blistered 
 with tears. Stretching out her arms she fell on her knees, 
 while a passionate, sobbing prayer struggled brokenly 
 across her trembling lips : 
 
 " O my God ! have mercy upon him ! save his wretched 
 soul from eternal death ! Help me so to live and govern 
 myself that I bring no shame on the cause of Christ. And 
 if it be thy will, O my God ! grant that I may be instru- 
 mental in winning this precious but wandering, sinful soul 
 back to the faith as it is in Jesus !" 
 
 Ah ! verily — 
 
 " . . . . More tilings are wroiight by prayer 
 Than this world dreams of. Wherefore let thy voice 
 Rise like a fountain for him night and day. 
 For what are men better than sheep or goats, 
 That nourish a blind life within the brain, 
 If, knowing God, they lift not hands of prayer 
 Both for themselves, and those who call them friend 1" 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 [HERE are you going, St. Elmo ? I know it is 
 one of your amiable decrees that your move- 
 ments are not to be questioned, but I , dare to 
 brave your ire." 
 
 " I am going to that blessed retreat familiarly known as 
 Murray's den,' where, secure from feminine intrusion, as 
 if in the cool cloisters of Coutloumoussi, I surrender my 
 happy soul to science and cigars, and revel in complete 
 forgetfulness of that awful curse which Jove hurled against 
 all mankind, because of Prometheus's robbery." 
 
 " There are asylums for lunatics and inebriates, and I 
 wonder it has never occurred to some benevolent million- 
 aire to found one for such abominable cynics as you, my 
 most angelic cousin ! where the snarling brutes can only 
 snap at and worry one another." 
 
 " An admirable idea, Estelle, which I fondly imagined I 
 had successfully carried out when I built those rooms of 
 mine." 
 
 " You are as hateful as Momus, minus his wit ! He was 
 kicked out of heaven for grumbling, and you richly deserVe 
 his fate." 
 
 " I have a vague recollection that the Goddess Discord 
 shared the fate of the celestial growler. I certainly plead 
 guilty to an earnest sympathy with Momus's dissatisfac- 
 tion with the house that Minerva built, and only wish that 
 mine was movable, as he recommended, in order to escape 
 had neighborhoods and tiresome companions." 
 
ST. ELMO. 255 
 
 " Hospitable, upon my word ! You spin some spiteful 
 idea out of every sentence I utter, and are not ever, entitled 
 to the compliment which Chesterfield paid old Samuel John- 
 son, ' The utmost I can do for him is to consider him a i re- 
 spectable Hottentot.' If I did not know that instead of 
 proving a punishment it would gratify you beyond measure, 
 I would take a vow not to speak to you again for a month ; 
 but the consciousness of the happiness I should thereby bestow 
 upon you vetoes,the resolution. Do you know that even a 
 Comanche chief, or a Bechuana of the desert, shames your 
 inhospitality ? I assure you I am the victim of hopeless 
 ennui, am driven to the verge of desperation ; for Mr. All 
 ston will probably not return until to-morrow, and it is 
 raining so hard that I can not wander out of doors. Here 
 I am shut up in this dreary house, which reminds me of the 
 descriptions of that doleful retreat for sinners in Normandy, 
 where the inmates pray eleven hours a day, dig their own 
 graves every evening, and if they chance to meet one 
 another, salute each other with ''Memento mori /' Ugh ! 
 if there remains one latent spark of chivalry in your soul, 
 I beseech you be merciful ! Do not go off to your den, but 
 stay here and entertain me. It is said that you read be- 
 witchingly, and with unrivalled effect ; pray favor me this 
 morning. I will promise to lay my hand on my lips ; is it 
 not white enough for a flag of truce ? I will be meek, 
 amiable, docile, absolutely silent." 
 
 Estelle swept aside a mass of papers from the corner of 
 the sofa, and, taking Mr. Murray's hand, drew him to a 
 seqt beside her. 
 
 " Your ' amiable silence,' my fair cousin, is but a cun- 
 ningly fashioned wooden horse. Timeo Danaos et dona 
 ferentes ! I am to understand that you actually offer mo 
 your hand as a flag of truce? It is wonderfully white and 
 pretty ; but excuse me, Cest une main de fer, c/antee de 
 velours/ Your countenance, so serenely radiant, reminds 
 me of what Madame Noblet said of M. de Vitri, ' His face 
 
256 ST. ELMO. 
 
 looked just like a stratagem /' Reading aloud is a pracuce ia 
 which I never indulge, simply because I cordially detest it 
 and knowing this fact, it is a truly feminine refinement of 
 cruelty on your part to select this mode of penance. Never- 
 theless, you appeal to my chivalry, which always springs 
 up, armed cap-a-pie ' to do or die ;' and since read I must, 
 I only stipulate that I may be allowed to select my book. 
 Just now I am profoundly interested in a French work on 
 infusoria, by Dujardin ; and as you have probably not 
 studied it, I will select those portions which treat of the 
 animalcula that inhabit grains of sugar and salt and drops 
 of water ; so that by the time lunch is ready, your appetite 
 will be whetted by a knowledge of the nature of your re- 
 past. According to Leeuwenhoek, Miiller, Gleichen, and 
 others, the campaigns of Zenzis-Khan, Alexander, Attila, 
 were not half so murderous as a single fashionable dinner ; 
 and the battle of Marengo was a farce in comparison with 
 the swallowing of a cup of tea, which contains " 
 
 " For shame, you tormentor ! when you know that I love 
 tea as well as did your model of politeness, Dr. Johnson ! 
 Not one line of all that nauseating scientific stuff shall you 
 read to me. Here is a volume of poems of the ' Female 
 Poets ;' do be agreeable for once in your life, and select 
 me some sweet little rhythmic gem of Mrs. Browning, or 
 Mrs. Norton, or L. E. L." 
 
 " Estelle, did you ever hear of the Peishwah of the Mah- 
 rattas ?" 
 
 " I most assuredly never had even a hint of a syllable on 
 the subject. What of him, her, or it ?" 
 
 " Enough, that though you are evidently ambitious of 
 playing his despotic role at Le Bocage, you will never suc- 
 ceed in reducing me to that condition of abject subjuga- 
 tion necessary to make me endure the perusal of ' female 
 poetry.' I have always desired an opportunity of voting 
 my cordial thanks to the wit who expressed so felicitously 
 my own thorough conviction, that Pegasus has an uncou< 
 
ST. ELMO. 257 
 
 querable repugnance, hatred, to side-saddles. Yc.u vow 
 you will not listen to science ; and I swear I won't read 
 poetry ! Suppose we compromise on this new number 
 of the Magazine ? It is the ablest periodical pub- 
 lished in this country. Let me see the contents of this 
 number." 
 
 It was a dark, rainy morning in July. Mrs. Murray was 
 winding a quantity of zephyr wool, of various bright colors, 
 which she had requested Edna to hold in her hands ; and 
 at the mention of the magazine the latter looked up sud- 
 denly at the master of the house. 
 
 Holding his cigar between his thumb and third finger, 
 his eye ran over the table of contents. 
 
 " ' Who smote the Marble Gk>ds of Greece V Humph ! 
 rather a difficult question to answer after the lapse of 
 twenty-two centuries. But doubtless our archaeologists are 
 so much wiser than the Athenian Senate of Five Hundred, 
 who investigated the affair the day after it happened, that 
 a perusal will be exceedingly edifying. Now, then, for a 
 solution of this classic mystery of the nocturnal iconoclasm ; 
 which, in my humble opinion, only the brazen lips of Mi- 
 nerva Promachus could satisfactorily explain." 
 
 Turning to the article he read it aloud, without pausing 
 to comment, while Edna's heart bounded so rapidly that she 
 could scarcely conceal her agitation. It was, indeed, a treat 
 to listen to him ; and as his musical voice filled the room, 
 she thought of Jean Paul Richter's description of Goethe's 
 reading: "There is nothing comparable to it. It is like 
 deep-toned thunder blended with whispering rain-drops." 
 
 But the orphan's pleasure was of short duration, and as 
 Mr. Murray concluded the perusal, he tossed the magazine 
 contemptuously across the room, and exclaimed : 
 
 "Pretentious and shallow! A tissue of pedantry and 
 error from beginning to end — written, I will wager my 
 head, by some scribbler who never saw Athens ! Moreover, 
 the whole article is based upon a glaring blunder ; for, ao 
 
258 ST - zlmo. 
 
 cording to Plutarch and Diodorus, on the memorable nigh I 
 in question there was a new moon. Pshaw ! it is a taste- 
 less, insipid plagiarism from Grote ; and if I am to be bored 
 with such insufferable twaddle, I will stop my subscription. 
 For some time I have noticed symptoms of deterioration, 
 but this is altogether intolerable ; and I shall write to Man- 
 ning that, if he can not do better, it would be advisable for 
 him to suspend at once before his magazine loses its reputa- 
 tion. If I were not aware that his low estimate of female 
 intellect coincides fully with my own, I should be tempted 
 to s appose that some silly but ambitious woman wrote that 
 stuff, which sounds learned and is simply stupid." 
 
 He did not even glance toward Edna, but the peculiar 
 emphasis of his words left no doubt in her mind that he 
 suspected, nay, felt assured, that she was the luckless 
 auihor. Raising her head which had been drooped over 
 the woolen skeins, she said, firmly yet very quietly : 
 
 " If you will permit me to differ with you. Mr. Murray, 
 I will say that it seems to me all the testimony is in favor 
 of the full-moon theory. Besides, Grote is the latest and 
 best authority ; he has carefully collected and sifted the 
 evidence, and certainly sanctions the position taken by the 
 author of the article which you condemn." 
 
 " Ah ! how long since you investigated the matter ? The 
 affair is so essentially paganish that I should imagine it 
 possessed no charm for so orthodox a Christian as yourself. 
 Estelle, what say you, concerning this historic sphinx ?" 
 
 " That I am blissfully ignorant of the whole question, 
 and have a vague impression that it is not worth the paper 
 it is written on, much less a quarrel with you, Monsieui 
 'Le Hutin;' that it is the merest matter of moonshine — new 
 moon versus full moon, and must have been written by a 
 lunatic. But, my Chevalier Bayard, one thing I do intend 
 to say most decidedly, and that is, that your lunge at female 
 intellect was as unnecessary and ill-timed and ill-bred as 
 it was ill-natured. The mental equality of the sexes is now 
 
ST. ELMO. 259 
 
 as unquestioned, as universally admitted, as any c ther well° 
 established fact in science or history ; and the sooner you 
 men gracefully concede us our rights, the sooner we shall 
 cease wrangling, and settle back into our traditional amia- 
 bility." 
 
 " The universality of the admission I should certainly 
 deny, were the subject of sufficient importance to justify a 
 discussion. However, I have been absent so long from 
 America, that I confess my ignorance of the last social 
 advance in the striding enlightenment of this most pro- 
 gressive people. According to Moleschott's celebrated 
 dictum — ' Without phosphorus no thought,' and if there be 
 any truth in physiology and phrenology, you women have 
 been stinted by nature in the supply of phosphorus. Pea- 
 cock's measurements prove that in the average weight of 
 male and female brains, you fall below our standard by not 
 less than six ounces. I should conjecture that in the scales 
 of equality six ounces of ideas would turn the balance in 
 favor of our superiority." 
 
 "If you reduce it to a mere question of avoirdupois, 
 please be so good as to remember that even greater differ- 
 ence exists among men. For instance, your brain (which 
 is certainly not considered over average) weighs from three 
 to three and a half pounds, while Cuvier's brain weighed 
 over four pounds, giving him the advantage of more than 
 eight ounces over our household oracle! Accidental differ 
 ence in brain weight proves nothing ; for you will not admit 
 your mental inferiority to any man, simply because his head 
 requires a larger hat than yours." 
 
 " Pardon me, I always bow before facts, no matter how 
 unflattering, and I consider one of Cuvier's ideas worthy of 
 just exactly eight degrees more of reverence than any 
 phosphorescent sparkle which I might choose to hold xip foi 
 public acceptance and guidance. Without doubt, the most 
 thoroughly ludicrous scene I ever witnessed was furnished 
 by a ' woman's rights' meeting,' which I looked in upoa 
 
260 ST - elmo. 
 
 one night in New- York, as I returned from Europe. The 
 speaker was a raw-boned, wiry, angular, short-h ured, 
 lemon-visaged female of uncertain age ; with a hand like 
 a bronze gauntlet, and a voice as distracting as the shrill 
 squeak of a cracked cornet-a-piston. Over the wrongs and 
 grievances of her down-trodden, writhing sisterhood she 
 ranted and raved and howled, gesticulating the while with 
 a marvelous grace, which I can compare only to the antics 
 of those inspired goats who strayed too near the Pythian 
 cave, and were thrown into convulsions. Though I pulled 
 my hat over my eyes and clapped both hands to my ears, 
 as I rushed out of the hall after a stay of five minutes, the 
 vision of horror followed me, and for the first and only time 
 in my life, I had such a hideous nightmare that night, that 
 the man who slept in the next room broke open my door 
 to ascertain who was strangling me. Of all my pet aver- 
 sions my most supreme abhorrence is of what are denomi- 
 nated ' gifted women ;' strong-minded, (that is, weak-brained 
 but loud-tongued,) would-be literary females, who, puffed up 
 with insufferable conceit, imagine they rise to the diguity 
 and height of man's intellect, proclaim that their ' mission' 
 is to write or lecture, and set themselves up as shining 
 female lights, each aspiring to the rank of protomartyr of 
 reform. Heaven grant us a Bellerophon to relieve the age 
 of these noisy Amazons ! I should really enjoy seeing them 
 tied down to their spinning-wheels, and gagged with their 
 own books, magazines, and lectures ! When I was abroad 
 and contrasted the land of my birth with those I visited, 
 the only thing for which, as an American, I felt myself 
 called on to blush, was my countrywomen. An insolent 
 young count who had traveled through the Eastern and 
 Northern States of America, asked me one day in Berlin, if 
 it were really true that the male editors, lawyers, doctors, 
 and lecturers in the United States were contemplating a 
 hegira, in consequence of the rough el bowing by the women, 
 and if I could inform him at what age the New-England 
 
-ST. ELMO. 261 
 
 girls generally commenced writing learned aiticlei, and. af- 
 fixing LL.D., F.E.S., F.S.A., and M.M.S.S. to their signa- 
 tures ? Whereupon I kicked his inquisitive lordship down 
 the steps of the hotel, and informed him that though I 
 might possibly resemble an American, I rejoiced in being 
 a native of Crim Tartary, where the knowledge of woman 
 is confined exclusively to the roasting of horse-flesh and the 
 preparation of most delicious kimis." 
 
 " ' Lay on, Macduff!' I wish you distinctly to understand 
 that my toes are not bruised in the slightest degree ; for I 
 am entirely innocent of any attempt at erudition or author- 
 ship, and the sole literary dream of my life is to improve the 
 present popular receipt for biscuit glace. But mark you, 
 ' Sir Oracle,' I must ' ope my lips ' and bark a little under 
 my breath at your inconsistencies. Now if there are two 
 living men whom, above all others, you swear by, they are 
 John Stuart Mill and John Ruskin. Well do I recollect 
 your eulogy of both, on that ever-memorable day in Paris 
 
 when we dined with that French encyclopedia, Count W , 
 
 and the leading lettered men of the day were discussed. I 
 was frightened out of my wits, and dared not raise my eyes 
 higher than the top of my wine-glass, lest I should be 
 asked my opinion of some book or subject of which I had 
 never even heard, and in trying to appear well-educated 
 make as horrible a blunder as poor Madame Talleyrand 
 committed, when she talked to Denon about his man Fri- 
 day, believing that he wrote ' Robinson Crusoe.' At that 
 time I had never read either Mill or Ruskin ; but my pro- 
 found reverence for the wisdom of your opinions taught me 
 how shamefully ignorant I was, and thus, to fit myself for 
 your companionship, I immediately bought their books. Lo, 
 to my indescribable amazement, I found that Mill claimed 
 for women what I never once dreamed we were worthy of — 
 not only equality, but the right of suffrage. He, the fore- 
 most dialectician of England and the most learned of poli- 
 tical economists, demands that, for the sake of equity and 
 
262 ST - elmo. 
 
 1 social improvement,' we women (minus the required &ix 
 ounces of brains) should be allowed to vote. Behold the 
 Corypheus of the ' woman's rights ' school ! Were I to 
 follow his teachings, I should certainly begin to clamor foi 
 my right of suffrage — for the ladylike privilege of elbowing 
 you away from the ballot-box at the next election." 
 
 " I am quite as far from admitting the infallibility of 
 man as the equality of the sexes. The clearest thinkers of 
 the world have had soft spots in their brains ; for instance, 
 the daemon belief of Socrates and the ludicrous superstitions 
 of Pythagoras ; and you have laid your finger on the soft- 
 ened spot in Mill's skull, ' suffrage.' That is a jaded, spa- 
 vined hobby of his, and he is too shrewd a logician to in- 
 volve himself in the inconsistency of ' extended suffrage ' 
 which excludes women. When I read his ' Representative 
 Government' I saw that his reason had dragged anchor, the 
 prestige of his great name vanished, and I threw the book 
 into the fire' and eschewed him henceforth. Sic transit.'''' 
 
 Here Mrs. Murray looked up and said : 
 
 " John Stuart Mill — let me see — Edna, is he not the man 
 who wrote that touching dedication of one of his books to 
 his wife's memory ? You quoted it for me a few days ago, 
 and said that you had committed it -to memory because it 
 was such a glowing tribute to the intellectual capacity of 
 woman. My dear, I wish you would repeat it now ; I should 
 like to hear it again." 
 
 With her fingers full of purple woolen skeins, and her 
 eyes bent down, Edna recited, in a low, sweet voice the 
 most eloquent panegyric which man's heart ever pronounced 
 on woman's intellect : 
 
 ' To the beloved and deplored memory of her who was 
 the inspirer, and in part, the author, of all that is best in my 
 writings, the friend and wife whose exalted sense of truth 
 und right was my strongest incitement and whose approba- 
 tion was my chief reward, I dedicate this volume. Like all 
 that I have written for many years, it belongs as much to 
 
ST. ELMO. 283 
 
 her as to me ; but the work as it stands has had, in a rery 
 insufficient degree, the inestimable advantage of her rt vision ; 
 some of the most important portions having been reserved 
 for a more careful reexamination, which they are now never 
 destined to receive. "Were I but capable of interpreting to 
 the world one half the great thoughts and noble feelings 
 which are buried in her grave, I should be the medium of a 
 greater benefit to it than is ever likely to arise from any 
 thing that I can write unprompted and unassisted by her 
 all but unrivalled wisdom." 
 
 "Where did you find that dedication?" asked Mr. Mur- 
 ray. 
 
 " In Mill's book on Liberty." 
 
 " It is not in my library." 
 
 " I borrowed it from Mr. Hammond." 
 
 " Strange that a plant so noxious should be permitted in 
 such a sanctified atmosphere ! Do you happen to recollect 
 the following sentences ? ' I regard utility as the ultimate 
 appeal on all ethical questions !' ' There is a Greek ideal 
 of self-development which the Platonic and Christian ideal 
 of self-government blends with but does not supersede. It 
 may be better to be a John Knox than an Alcibiades, but it 
 is better to be a Pericles than either.' " 
 
 " Yes, sir. They occur in the same book ; but, Mr. Mur- 
 ray, I have been advised by my teacher to bear always in 
 mind that noble maxim, 'I can tolerate every thing else 
 but eveiy other man's intolerance ;' and it is with his con- 
 sent and by his instructions that I go like Ruth, gleaning 
 in the great fields of literature." 
 
 " Take care you don't find Boaz instead of barley ! 
 After all, the universal mania for match-making schemes, 
 and manoeuvers which continually stir society from its 
 dregs to the painted foam-bubble dancing on its crested 
 wave, is peculiar to no age or condition, but is an immemo- 
 rial and hereditary female proclivity ; for I defy Paris or 
 London to furnish a more perfectly developed specimen of 
 
264 ST. VLMO. 
 
 a * manoeuvring mamma ' than was crafty Naomi, when she 
 sent that pretty little Moabitish widow out husband-hunt- 
 ing." 
 
 " I heartily wish she was only here to outwit you !" 
 laughed his cousin, nestling her head against his arm as 
 they sat together on the sofa. 
 
 " Who ? The widow or the match-maker ?" 
 
 " Oh ! the match-maker, of course. There is more than one 
 Ruth already in the field." 
 
 The last clause was whispered so low that only St. Elmo 
 heard it, and any other woman but Estelle Harding would 
 have shrunk away in utter humiliation from the eye and the 
 voice that answered : 
 
 " Yourself and Mrs. Powell ! Eat Boaz's barley as long 
 as you like — nay, divide Boaz's broad fields between you ; 
 an you love your lives, keep out of Boaz's way." 
 
 " You ought both to be ashamed of yourselves. I am 
 surprised at you, Estelle, to encourage St. Elmo's irrever- 
 ence," said Mrs. Murray severely. 
 
 " I am sure, Aunt Ellen, I am just as much shocked as 
 you are ; but when he does not respect even your opinions, 
 how dare I presume to hope he will show any deference to 
 mine ? St. Elmo, what think you of the last Sibylline leaves 
 of your favorite Ruskin ? In looking over his new book, 
 I was surprised to find this strong assertion . . . Here 
 is the volume now — listen to this, will you ?" 
 
 " ' Shakespeare has no heroes ; he has only heroines. In 
 his labored and perfect plays, you find no hero, but almost 
 always a perfect woman; steadfast in grave hope and 
 enorless purpose. The catastrophe of every play is caused 
 always by the folly or fault of a man ; the redemption, 
 if there be any, is by the wisdom and virtue of a woman , 
 and failing that, there is none !' " 
 
 " For instance, Lady Macbeth, Ophelia, Regan, Goneril, 
 and last, but not least, Petruchio's sweet and gentle Kate I 
 De gmtibus /" answered Mr. Murray. 
 
ST. ELMO. 265 
 
 "Those are the exceptions, and of course you pounce 
 upon them. Ruskin continues : ' In all cases with Scott, as 
 with Shakespeare, it is the woman who watches over, teaches 
 and guides the youth ; it is never by any chance the man 
 who watches over or educates her ; and thus ' " 
 
 " Meg Merrilies, Madge Wildfire, Mause Headrigg, Effie 
 Deans, and Rob Roy's freckle-faced, red-haired, angelic 
 Helen !" interrupted her cousin. 
 
 " Don't be rude, St. Elmo. You fly in my face like an ex- 
 asperated wasp. I resume : ' Dante's great poem is a song 
 of praise for Beatrice's watch over his soul ; she saves him 
 from hell, and leads him star by star up into heaven — ' " 
 
 "Permit me to suggest that conjugal devotion should 
 have led him to apostrophize the superlative charms of his 
 own wife, Gemma, from whom he was forced to separate ; 
 and that his vision of hell was a faint reflex of his domestic 
 felicity." 
 
 " Mask your battery, sir, till I finish this page, which I 
 am resolved you shall hear : ' Greek literature proves the 
 same thing, as witness the devoted tenderness of Andro- 
 mache, the wisdom of Cassandra, the domestic excellence 
 of Penelope, the love of Antigone, the resignation of Iphi- 
 genia, the faithfulness of ' " 
 
 " Allow me to assist him in completing the list : the 
 world-renowned constancy of Helen to Menelaus, the de- 
 votion of Clytemnestra to her Agamemnon, the subli-me 
 filial affection of Medea^ and the bewitching " 
 
 " Hush, sir ! Aunt Ellen, do call hiiu to order ! I will have 
 a hearing, and I close the argument by the unanswerable 
 assertion of Ruskin : ' That the Egyptians and Greeks (the 
 most civilized of the ancients) both gave to their spirit of 
 wisdom the form of a woman, and for symbols, the weaver's 
 ghuttle and the olive !' " 
 
 "An inevitable consequence of the fact, that they consid- 
 ered wisdom as synonymous with sleepless and unscrupu- 
 lous cunning ! Schiller declares that * man depicts himself 
 
266 §T. ELMO. 
 
 in his gods ;' and even a cursory inspection of the classics 
 proves that all the abhorred and hideous ideas of the an- 
 cients were personified by women. Pluto was affable, and 
 beneficent, and gentlemanly, in comparison with Brimo : 
 ditto might be said of Loke and Hela, and the most appall- 
 ing idea that ever attacked the brain of mankind, found 
 incarnation in the Fates and Furies, who are always wo- 
 men. Unfortunately the mythologies of the world crys- 
 tallized before the age of chivalry, and a little research will 
 establish the unflattering fact that human sins and woes are 
 traced primarily to female agency ; while it is patent that 
 all the rows and "squabbles' that disgraced Olympus were 
 stirred up by scheming goddesses !" 
 
 " Thank heaven ! here comes Mr. Allston ; I can smooth 
 the ruffled plumes of my self-love in his sunny smiles, and 
 forget your growls. Good morning, Mr. Allston ; what 
 happy accident brought you again so soon to Le Bocage 
 and its disconsolate inmates ?" 
 
 Edna picked up the magazine which lay in one corner, 
 and made her escape. 
 
 The gratification arising from the acceptance and prompt 
 publication of her essay, was marred by Mr. Murray's sneer 
 ing comments ; but still her heart was happier than it had 
 been for many weeks, and as she turned to the Editors' 
 Table and read a few lines complimenting " the article of a 
 new contributor," and promising another from the same 
 pen, for the ensuing month, her face flushed joyfully. 
 
 While she felt it difficult to realize that her writings had 
 found favor in Mr. Manning's critical eyes, she thanked 
 God that she was considered worthy of communicating with 
 her race through the medium of a magazine so influential 
 and celebrated. She thought it probable that Mr. Man- 
 ning had written her a few lines, and wondered whether at 
 that moment a letter was not hidden in St. Elmo's pocket. 
 
 Taking the magazine, she went into Mrs. Murray's room, 
 and found her resting on a lounge. Her face wore a trou 
 
ST. ELMO. 267 
 
 bled exDression, and Edna saw traces of tears on the pil« 
 low. 
 
 " Come in, child ; I was just thinking of you." 
 
 She put out her hand, drew the girl to a seat near the 
 lounge, and sighed heavily. 
 
 " Dear Mrs. Murray, I am very, very happy, and I have 
 come to make a confession and ask your congratulations." 
 
 She knelt down beside her, and, taking the white fingers 
 of her benefactress, pressed her forehead against them. 
 
 "A confession, Edna ! "What have you done ?" 
 
 Mrs. Murray started up and lifted the blushing face. 
 
 " Some time ago you questioned me concerning some 
 letters which excited your suspicion, and which I promised 
 to explain at some future day. I dare say you will think 
 me very •presumptuous when I tell you that I have been as- 
 piring to authorship ; that I was corresponding with Mr. 
 Manning on the subject of some MS. which I had sent for 
 his examination, and now I have come to show you what I 
 have been doing. You heard Mr. Murray read an essay 
 
 this morning from the Magazine, which he ridiculed 
 
 very bitterly, but which Mr. Manning at least thought 
 worthy of a place in his pages. Mrs. Murray, I wrote that 
 article." 
 
 " Is it possible ? Who assisted you — who revised it ? 
 Mr. Hammond ? I did not suppose that you, my child, 
 could ever write so elegantly, so gracefully." 
 
 " ISTo one saw the ms. until Mr. Manning gave it to the 
 printers. I wished to surprise Mr. Hammond, and there- 
 fore told him nothing of my ambitious scheme. I was very 
 apprehensive that I should fail, and for that reason was un- 
 willing to acquaint you with the precise subject of the cor- 
 respondence until I was sure of success, O Mrs. Murray ! 
 I have no mother, and feeling that I owe every thing to you 
 — that without your generous aid and protection I should 
 never have been able to accomplish this one hope of my 
 life, I come to you to share my triumph, for I know you 
 
268 ST. ELMO. 
 
 will fully sympathize with me. Here is the magazine con- 
 taining Mr. Manning's praise of my work, and here are the 
 letters which I was once so reluctant to put into your 
 hands. When I asked you to trust me, you did so nobly 
 and freely ; and thanking you more than my feeble words 
 can express, I want to show you that I was not unworthy 
 of your confidence." 
 
 She laid magazine and letters on Mrs. Murray's lap, and 
 in silence the proud, reserved woman wound her arms 
 tightly around the orphan, pressing the bright young face 
 against her shoulder, and resting her own cheek on the 
 girl's fair forehead. 
 
 The door was j)artially ajar, and at that instant St. Elmo 
 entered. 
 
 He stopped, looked at the kneeling figure locked so 
 closely in his mother's arms, and over his stern face broke 
 a light that transformed it into such beauty as Lucifer's 
 might have worn before his sin and banishment, when 
 
 God— 
 
 " ' Lucifer' — kindly said as ' Gabriel,' 
 ' Lucifer' — soft as ' Michael ' ; while serene 
 He, standing in the glory of the lamps, 
 Answered, ' My Father,' innocent of shame 
 And of the sense of thunder ! " 
 
 Yearningly he extended his arms toward the two, who, ab- 
 sorbed in their low talk, were unconscious of his presence; 
 then the hands fell heavily to his side, the brief smile was 
 swallowed up by scowling shadows, and he turned silently 
 away and went to his own gloomy rooms. 
 
CHAPTER XX. 
 
 RS. POWELL and her daughter, to see Miss 
 Estelle and Miss Edna." 
 
 " Why did not you say we were at dinner ?" 
 cried Mrs. Murray impatiently, darting an 
 angry glance at the servant. 
 
 " I did, ma'am, but they said they would wait." 
 
 As Estelle folded up her napkin and slipped it into the 
 silver ring, she looked furtively at St. Elmo, who, holding 
 up a bunch of purple grapes, said in an indifferent tone to 
 his mother : 
 
 "The vineyards of Axarquia show nothing more perfect. 
 This cluster might challenge comparison with those from 
 which Red Hermitage is made, and the seeds of which are 
 said to have been brought from Schiraz. Even on the 
 sunny slopes of Cyprus and Naxos I found no finer grapes 
 than these. A propos ! I want a basketful this afternoon. 
 Henry, tell old Simon to gather them immediately." 
 
 " Pray what use have you for them ? I am sure the 
 courteous idea of sending them as a present never could 
 have forced an entrance into your mind, much less have 
 carried the outworks of your heart ! " 
 
 As his cousin spoke she came to the back of his chair and 
 leaned over his shoulder. 
 
 " I shall go out on the terrace and renew the obsolete 
 Dionysia, shouting ' Evoe /• Meleus ! ' I shall crown and 
 pelt my marble Bacchus yonder with the grapes till his 
 
270 ST. ELMO. 
 
 dainty sculptured limbs are bathed in their purpl* sacri 
 ficial blood. What other use could I possibly have foi 
 them ?" 
 
 He threw his head back and added something in a lower 
 tone, at which Estelle laughed, and put up her red, full lip 
 
 Mrs. Murray frowned, and said sternly : 
 
 " If you intend to see those persons, I advise you to do so 
 promptly." 
 
 Her niece moved toward the door, but glanced over her 
 shoulder. 
 
 " I presume Gertrude expects to see Edna, as she asked 
 for her." 
 
 The orphan had been watching Mr. Murray's face, but 
 could detect no alteration in its expression, save a brief 
 gleam as of triumph when the visitors were announced. 
 Rising, she approached Mrs. Murray, whose clouded brow 
 betokened more than ordinary displeasure, and whispered : 
 
 " Gertrude is exceedingly anxious to see the house and 
 grounds ; have I your permission to show her over the 
 place ? She is particularly curious to see the deer." 
 
 " Of course, if she requests it ; but their effrontery in 
 coming here caps the climax of all the impudence I ever 
 heard of. Have as little to say as possible." 
 
 Edna went to the parlor, leaving mother and son to- 
 gether. 
 
 Mrs. Powell had laid aside her mourning garments and 
 "wore a dress of blue muslin, which heightened her beauty, 
 and as the orphan looked from her to Gertrude she found it 
 difficult to decide who was the loveliest. After a few de- 
 sultory remarks she rose, saying : 
 
 "As you have repeatedly expressed a desire to examine 
 the park and hothouses, I will show you the way this 
 afternoon." 
 
 " Take care, my love, that you do not fatigue yourself," 
 were Mrs. Powell's low, tenderly spoken words as hei 
 daughter rose to leave the room. 
 
ST. ELMO. 271 
 
 Edna went first to the greenhouse, and though her com- 
 panion chattered ceaselessly, she took little interest in her 
 exclamations of delight, and was conjecturing the probable 
 cause of Mrs. Murray's great indignation. 
 
 For some weeks she had been thrown frequently into the 
 society of Mr. Hammond's guests, and while her distrust 
 of Mrs. Powell, her aversion to her melting, musical voice, 
 increased at every interview, a genuine affection for Ger 
 trade had taken root in her heart. 
 
 They were the same age ; but one was an earnest woman, 
 the other a fragile, careless, gleeful, enthusiastic child. 
 Although the orphan found it impossible to make a com- 
 panion of this beautiful, warm-hearted girl, who hated 
 books and turned pale at the mention of study, still Edna 
 liked to watch the lovely, radiant face, with its cheeks tinted 
 like sea-shells, its soft, childish blue eyes sparkling with 
 joyousness ; and she began to caress and to love her, as she 
 would .have petted a canary or one of the spotted fawns 
 gambolling over the lawn. 
 
 As they stood hand in hand, admiring some gold-fish in a 
 small aquarium in the centre of the greenhouse, Gertrude 
 exclaimed : 
 
 " The place is as fascinating as its master ! Do tell me 
 something about him ; I wonder very often why you never 
 mention him. I know I ought not to say it ; but really, 
 after he has talked to me for a few minutes, I forget every 
 thing else, and think only of what he says for days and 
 days after." 
 
 " You certainly do not allude to Mr. Murray ?" said 
 Edna. 
 
 " I certainly do. What makes you look so astonished ?" 
 
 " I was not aware that you knew him." 
 
 " Oh ! I have known him since the week after our ai rival 
 here. Mamma and I met him at Mrs. Inge's. Mr. Inge 
 had some gentlemeu to dinner, and they came into the 
 parlor while we were calling. Mr. Murray sat down and 
 
272 8T - ELMO. • 
 
 talked to me then for some time, and I have frequently met 
 him since; for it seems he loves to sfroll about the woods 
 almost as well as I do, and sometimes we walk together. 
 You know he and my uncle are not friendly, and I believe 
 mamma does not like him, so he never comes to the par- 
 sonage ; and never seems to see me if I am with her or 
 Uncle Allan. But is he not very fascinating ? If he were 
 not a little too old for me, I believe I should really be very 
 much in love with him." 
 
 An expression of disgust passed swiftly over Edna's pale 
 face ; she dropped her companion's hand, and asked coldly : 
 
 " Does your mother approve of your walks with Mr. 
 Murray ?" 
 
 " For heaven's sake, don't look so solemn ! I — she — 
 really I don't know ! I never told her a word about it. 
 Once I mentioned having met him, and showed her some 
 flowers he gave me ; and she took very little notice of the 
 matter. Several times since he has sent me bouquets, and 
 though I kept them out of uncle's sight, she saw them in 
 my room, and must have suspected where they came from. 
 Of course he can not come to the parsonage to see me when 
 he does not speak to my uncle or to mainma ; but I do not 
 see any harm in his walking and talking with me, when I 
 happen to meet him. Oh ! how lovely those lilies are, lean- 
 ing over the edge of the aquarium ! Mr. Murray said that 
 some day he would show me all the beautiful things at Le 
 Bocage ; but he has forgotten his promise, I am afraid 
 and I " 
 
 " All ! Miss Gertrude, how could you doubt me ? I am 
 here to fulfill my promise." 
 
 He pushed aside the boughs of a guava which stood be- 
 tween them, and, coming forward, took Gertrude's hand, 
 drew it under his arm, and looked down eagerly, admir- 
 ingly, into her blushing face. 
 
 " O Mr. Murray ! I had no idea you were anywhere 
 near me. I am sure I could " 
 
ST. ELMO. 278 
 
 " Did you imagine you could escape tay eyes, which are 
 always seeking you ? Permit me to be your cicerone oven 
 Le Bocage, instead of Miss Edna here, who looks as if she 
 had been scolding you. Perhaps she will be so good as to 
 wait for as, and I will bring you back in a half-hour at 
 least." 
 
 " Edna, will you wait here for me ?" asked Gertrude. 
 
 " Why can not Mr. Murray bring you to the house ? 
 There is nothing more to see here." 
 
 "Allow us to judge for ourselves, if you please. There 
 is a late Paris paper which will amuse you till we return." 
 
 St. Elmo threw a newspaper at her feet, and led Ger- 
 trude away through one of the glass doors into the park. 
 
 Edna sat down on the edge of the aquarium, and the 
 hungry little fish crowded close to her, looking up wistfully 
 for the crumbs she was wont to scatter there daily ; but 
 now their mute appeal was unheeded. 
 
 Her colorless face and clasped hands grew cold as the 
 marble basin on which they rested, and the great, hopeless 
 agony that seized her heart came to her large eyes and 
 looked out drearily. 
 
 It was in vain that she said to herself : 
 
 " St. Elmo Murray is nothing to me ; why should I care 
 if he loves Gertrude ? She is so beautiful and confiding 
 and winning ; of course if he knows her well he must love 
 her. It is no business of mine. We are not even friends ; 
 we are worse than strangers ; and it can not concern me 
 whom he loves or whom he hates." 
 
 Her own heart laughed her words to scorn, and answered 
 defiantly : " He is my king ! my king ! I have crowned 
 and sceptred him, and right royally he rules !" 
 
 In pitiable humiliation she acknowledged that she had 
 found it impossible to tear her thoughts from him ; that his 
 dark face followed — haunted her sleeping and waking ; 
 While she shrank from his presence, and dreaded hist 
 character she could not witness his fond manner tc Ger» 
 
274 ST. ELMO. 
 
 trude without a pang of the keenest pain she hal ever en 
 dared. 
 
 The suddenness of the discovery shocked her int d a thor« 
 ough understanding of her own feelings. The grinning 
 fiend of jealousy had SAvept aside the flimsy veil which she 
 had never before fully lifted ; and looking sorrowfully down 
 into the bared holy of holies, she saw standing between 
 the hovering wings of golden cherubim an idol of clay de- 
 manding homage, daring the wrath of conscience the 
 high priest. She saw all now, and saw too, at the same 
 instant, whither her line of duty led. 
 
 The atmosphere was sultry, but she shivered ; and if a 
 mirror could have been held before her eyes she would have 
 started back from the gray, stony face so unlike hers. 
 
 It seemed so strange that the heart of the accomplished 
 misanthrope — the man of letters and science, who had ran- 
 sacked the world for information and amusement — should 
 surrender itself to the prattle of a pretty young thing who 
 could sympathize in no degree with his pursuits, and was 
 as utterly incapable of understanding his nature, as hi? 
 Tartar horse or his pet bloodhound. 
 
 She had often heard Mrs. Murray say, "If there is one 
 thing more uncertain even than the verdict of a jury — if 
 there is one thing which is known neither in heaven, earth, 
 nor hell, and which angels and demons alike waste time in 
 guessing at — it is what style of woman any man will fancj 
 and select for his wife. It is utterly impossible to predict 
 Avhat matrimonial caprice may or may not seize even the 
 wisest, most experienced, most practical, and reasonable of 
 men; and I would sooner undertake to conjecture how high 
 the thermometer stands at this instant on the crest of 
 Mount Copernicus up yonder in the moon, than attempt to 
 guess what freak will decide a man's choice of a bride." 
 
 Sternly Edna faced the future and pictured Gertrude as 
 Mr. Murray's wife ; for if he loved her, (and did not his 
 eyes declare it ?) of course he would sweep every objection, 
 
ST. ELMO. 275 
 
 every obstacle to the winds, and marry her spee lily. She 
 tried to think of him — the cold, harsh scoffer — as the fond 
 husband of that laughing child ; and though the vision was 
 indescribably painful, she forced herself to dwell upon it. 
 
 The idea that he would ever love any one or any thing 
 had never until this hour occurred to her ; and while she 
 could neither tolerate his opinions nor respect his character, 
 she found herself smitten with a great, voiceless anguish at 
 the thought of his giving his sinful, bitter kea'rt to any 
 Woman. 
 
 " Why did she love him ? Curious fool, be still 1 
 Is human love the growth cf human will ?" 
 
 Pressing her hand to her eyes, she murmured : 
 
 " Gertrude is right ; he is fascinating, but it is the fas- 
 cination of a tempting demon ! Ah ! if I had never come 
 here ! if I had never been cursed with the sight of his face ! 
 But I am no weak, silly child like Gertrude Powell ; I know 
 what my duty is, and I am strong enough to conquer, and 
 if necessary to crush my foolish heart. Oh ! I know you, 
 Mr. Murray, and I can defy you. To-day, short-sighted as 
 I have been, I look down on you. You are beneath me, 
 and the time will come when I shall look back to this hour 
 and wonder if I were temporarily bewitched or insane. 
 Wake up ! wake up ! come to your senses, Edna Earl ! 
 Put an end to this sinful folly ; blush for your unwomanly 
 weakness !" 
 
 As Gertrude's merry laugh floated up through the trees 
 the orphan lifted her head, and the blood came back to her 
 cheeks while she watched the two figures sauntering across 
 the smooth lawn. Gertrude leaned on Mr. Murray's arm, 
 and as he talked to her his head was bent down, so that he 
 could see the flushed face shaded by her straw-hat. 
 
 She drew her hand from his arm when they reached 
 the greenhouse, and looking much embarrassed, said hur- 
 riedly : 
 
 " I am afraid I have kept you ivaiting an unconscionable 
 
276 ST. ELMO. 
 
 time; but Mr. Murray had so many beautiful things to 
 show me, that I quite forgot we had left you here alone." 
 
 "I dare say your mother, thinks I have run away with 
 you ; and as I have an engagement, I must either bid you 
 good-bye and leave you here with Mr. Murray, or go back 
 at once with you to the house." 
 
 The orphan's voice was firm and quiet ; and as she 
 handed the French paper to St. Elmo, she turned her eyes 
 full on his face. 
 
 " Have you read it already ?" he asked, giving her one 
 of his steely, probing glances. 
 
 " No, sir, I did not open it, as I take little interest in 
 continental politics. Gertrude, will you go or stay ?" 
 
 Mr. Murray put out his hand, took Gertrude's, and said : 
 
 " Good-bye till to-morrow. Do not forget your promise." 
 
 Turning away, he went in the direction of the stables. 
 
 In silence Edna walked on to the house, and presently 
 Gertrude's soft fingers grasped hers. 
 
 " Edna, I hope you are not mad with me. Do you really 
 think it is wrong for me to talk to Mr. Murray, and to like 
 him so much ?" 
 
 " Gertrude, you must judge for yourself concerning the 
 propriety of your conduct. I shall not presume to advise 
 you ; but the fact that you are unwilling to acquaint your 
 mother with your course ought to make you look closely 
 at your own heart. When a girl is afraid to trust her 
 mother, I should think there were grounds for uneasiness." 
 
 They had reached the steps, and Mrs. Powell came out 
 to meet them. 
 
 " Where have you two runaways been ? I have waited 
 a half hour for you. Estelle, do come and see me. It is 
 very dreary at the parsonage, and your visits are cheering 
 and precious. Come, Gertrude." 
 
 When Gertrude kissed her friend, she whispered : 
 
 " Don't be mad with me, dearie. I will remember what 
 you said, and talk to mamma this very evening." 
 
ST. ELMO. 277 
 
 Edna saw mother and daughter descend the long a renue 
 and then running up to her room, she tied on her hat and 
 walked rapidly across the park in an opposite direction. 
 
 About a mile and a half from Le Bocage, on a winding 
 and unfrequented road leading to a saw-mill, stood a smal 1 
 log-house containing only two rooms. The yard was ne- 
 glected, full of rank weeds, and the gate was falling from 
 its rusty hinges. 
 
 Edna walked up the decaying steps, and without pausing 
 to knock, entered one of the comfortless-looking rooms. 
 
 On a cot in one corner lay an elderly man in the last 
 stage of consumption, and by his side, busily engaged in 
 knitting, sat a child about ten years old, whose pretty white 
 face wore that touching look of patient placidity peculiar 
 to the blind. Huldah Reed had never seen the light, but a 
 marvellous change came over her countenance when Edna's 
 light step and clear, sweet voice fell on her ear. 
 
 " Huldah, how is your father to-day ?" 
 
 " ISTot as well as he was yesterday ; but he is asleep now, 
 and will be better when he wakes." 
 
 " Has the doctor been here to-day ?" 
 
 " No, he has not been here since Sunday." 
 
 Edna stood for a while watching the labored breathing 
 of the sleeper, and putting her hand on Huldab's head, she 
 whispered : 
 
 " Do you want me to read to you this evening ? It is 
 late, but I shall have time for a short chapter." 
 
 " Oh ! please do, if it is only a few lines. It will not 
 wake him." 
 
 The child rose, spread out her hands, and groped her 
 way across the room to a small table, whence she took an 
 old Bible. 
 
 The two sat down together by the western window, and 
 Edna asked : 
 
 "Is there auy particular chapter you would like tc 
 hear?" 
 
278 ST - ELMO. 
 
 '' Please* read about blind Bartimeis sitting by the xoaA 
 side, waiting for Jesus." 
 
 Edna turned to the verses and read in a subdaed time 
 for some moments. In her eager interest Huldah slid do we 
 on her knees, rested her thin hands on her companion's lap 
 and raised her sweet face, with its wide, vacant, sad, hazel 
 eyes. 
 
 When Edna read the twenty-fourth verse of the next 
 chapter, the small hands were laid upon the page to arrest 
 her attention. 
 
 " Edna, do you believe that ? ' What things soever you 
 desire, when ye pray believe that ye receive them, and 
 ye shall have them /' Jesus said that : and if I pray that 
 my eyes may be opened, do you believe I shall see ? They 
 tell me that — that pa will not live. Oh ! do you think if I 
 pray day and night, and if I believe, and oh ! I do believe ! 
 I will believe ! do you think Jesus will let me see him — my 
 father — before he dies? If I could only see his dear face 
 once, I would be willing to be blind afterward. All my 
 life I have felt his face, and I knew it by my fingers ; but 
 oh ! I can't feel it in the grave ! I have been praying so 
 hard ever since the doctor said he must die ; praying that 
 Jesus would have mercy on me, and let me see him just 
 once. Last night I dreamed Christ came and put his hands 
 on my eyes, and said to me too, ' Thy faith hath made thee 
 whole ;' and I waked up crying, and my own fingers were 
 pulling my eyes open ; but it was all dark, dark. Edna, 
 won't you help me pray? And do you believe I shall see 
 him?" 
 
 Edna took the quivering face in her soft palms, and ten- 
 derly kissed the lips several times. 
 
 " My dear Huldah, you know the days of miracles are 
 over, and Jesus is not walking in the world now, to cure 
 the suffering and the blind and the dumb." 
 
 " But he is sitting close to the Throne of God, and he could 
 Bend some angel down to touch mj eyes, and let me see 
 
ST. .ELMO. £79 
 
 my dear, dear pa once — all ! just once. Oh ! lie is tte same 
 Jesas now as when lie felt sorry for Bartimeus. And why 
 won't he pity me too ? I pray and I believe, and that is 
 what he said I must do." 
 
 " I think that the promise relates to sp- ritual things, and 
 means that when we pray for strength to resist temptation 
 and sin, Jesus sends the Holy Spirit to assist all who ear- 
 nestly strive to do their duty. But, dear Huldah, one thing 
 is very certain, even if you are blind in this world, there 
 will come a day when God will open your eyes, and you 
 shall see those you love face to face ; ' for there shall be no 
 night there ' in that city of rest — no need of sun or moon 
 for 'the Lamb is the light thereof.' " 
 
 " Huldah— daughter !" 
 
 The child glided swiftly to the cot, and, looking round, 
 Edna doubted the evidence of her senses ; for by the side 
 of the sufferer stood a figure so like Mr. Murray that her 
 heart began to throb painfully. 
 
 The corner of the room was dim and shadowy, but a 
 strong, deep voice soon dispelled all doubt. 
 
 "I hope you are better to-day, Reed. Here are some 
 grapes which will refresh you, and you can eat them as 
 freely as your appetite prompts." 
 
 Mr. Murray placed a luscious cluster in the emaciated 
 hands, and put the basket down on the floor near the cot. 
 As he drew a chair from the wall and seated himself, Edna 
 crossed the room stealthily, and, laying her hand on Hul- 
 dah's shoulder, led her out to the front-steps. 
 
 " Huldah, has Mr. Murray ever been here before ?" 
 
 " Oh ! yes — often and often ; but he generally comes later 
 than this. He brings all the wine poor pa drinks, and very 
 often peaches and grapes. Oh ! he is so good to us. I love 
 to hear him come up the steps ; and many a time, when pa 
 is asleep, I sit here at night, listening for the gallop of Mr. 
 Murray's hoi*se. Somehow I feel so safe, as if nothing could 
 go wrong, when he is in the house." 
 
280 ST - ELMO. 
 
 " Why did you nev Br tell me this before ?" Why have 
 you not spoken of him ?" 
 
 " Because he charged me not to speak to any one about 
 it — said he did not choose to have it known that he ever 
 came here. There ! pa is calling me. Won't you come in 
 and speak to him ? 
 
 " Not this evening. Good-bye. I will come again soon." 
 
 Edna stooped, kissed the child hastily, and walked away, 
 
 She had only reached the gate where Tamerlane was fas 
 tened when Mr. Murray came out of the house. 
 
 " Edna !" 
 
 Reluctantly she stopped, and waited for him. 
 
 " Are you not afraid to walk home alone ?" 
 
 " ~No, sir ; I am out frequently even later than this-" 
 
 " It is. not exactly prudent for you to go home now alone : 
 for it will be quite dark before you can possibly reach the 
 park gate." 
 
 He passed his horse's reins over his arm, and led him 
 along the road. 
 
 " I am not going that way, sir. There is a path through 
 the woods that is much shorter than the road and I can get 
 through an opening in the orchard fence. Good even- 
 ing !" 
 
 She turned abruptly from the beaten road, but he caught 
 her dress and detained her. 
 
 " I told you some time ago that I never permitted espi- 
 onage in my affairs ; and now, with reference to what oc- 
 curred at the greenhouse, I advise you to keep silent. Do 
 you understand me ?" 
 
 " In the first place, sir, I could not condescend to play spy 
 on the actions of any one ; and in the second, you may rest 
 assured I shall not trouble myself to comment upon your 
 affairs, in which I certainly have no interest. ^Your esti- 
 mate of me must be contemptible indeed, if you imagine 
 that I can only employ myself in watching your career. 
 Dismiss your apprehensions, and rest in the assurance that I 
 
ST. ELMO. 281 
 
 consider it no business of mine where you go ex trhr.t you 
 may choose to do." 
 
 " My only desire is to shield my pretty Gertrude's head 
 from the wrath that may be bottled up for her." 
 
 Edna looked up fixedly into the deep, glittering eyes thai 
 watched hers, and answered quietly : 
 
 " Mr. Murray, if you love her half as well as I do, you 
 will be more careful in future not to subject her to the 
 opening of the vials of wrath." 
 
 He laughed contemptuously, and exclaimed : 
 
 " You are doubtless experienced in such matters, and 
 fully competent to advise me." 
 
 " No, sir, it does not concern me, and I presume neither 
 to criticise nor to advise. Please be so good as to detain 
 me no longer, and believe me when I repeat that I have no 
 intention whatever of meddling with any of your affairs, 
 or reporting your actions." 
 
 Putting his hands suddenly on her shoulders, he stooped, 
 looked keenly at her, and she heard him mutter an oath. 
 When he spoke again it was through set teeth : 
 
 " You will be wise if you adhere to that decision. Tell 
 them at home not to wait supper for me." 
 
 He sprang into his saddle and rode toward the village ; 
 and Edna hurried homeward, asking herself: 
 
 " What first took Mr. Murray to the blacksmith's hovel ? 
 Why is he so anxious that his visits should remain undis- 
 covered? After all, is there some latent nobility in his 
 character ? Is he so much better or worse than I have 
 thought him ? Perhaps his love for Gertrude has softened 
 his heart, perhaps that love may be his salvation. God 
 grant it ! God grant it !". 
 
 The evening breeze rose and sang solemnly through the 
 pine trees-, but to her it seemed only to chant the melan- 
 choly refrain, " My pretty Gertrude, my pretty Gertrude." 
 
 The chill light of stars fell on the orphan's pathway, and 
 over her pale features, where dw^lt the reflection of a lone 
 
282 ST. ELMO. 
 
 liness — a silent desolation, such as she had never realized, 
 even when her grandfather was snatched from her clinging 
 arms. She passed through the orchard, startling a covey of 
 partridges that nestled in the long grass, and a rabbit that. 
 had stolen out under cover of dusk ; and when she came to 
 the fountain, she paused and looked out over the dark, quiet 
 grounds. 
 
 Hitherto duty had worn a smiling, loving countenance, 
 and walked gently by her side as she crossed the flowery 
 vales of girlhood ; now, the guide was transformed into an 
 angel of wrath, pointing with drawn sword to the gate of 
 Eden. 
 
 As the girl's slight fingers locked themselves tightly, her 
 beautiful lips uttered mournfully : 
 
 " What hast tliou done, O soul of mine 
 
 That thou trernblest so ? 
 Hast thou wrought His task, and kept the line 
 
 He bade thee go ? 
 Ah ! the cloud is dark, and day by day 
 
 I am moving thither : 
 I must pass beneath it on my way — 
 
 God pity me ! Whither ?" 
 
 When Mrs. Murray went to her own room later than 
 usual that night, she found Edna sitting by the table, with 
 her Bible lying open on her lap, and her eyes fixed on the 
 floor. 
 
 " I thought you were fast asleep before this. I sat up 
 waiting for St. Elmo, as I wished to speak to him about 
 some engagements for to-morrow." 
 
 The lady of the house threw herself wearily upon the 
 lounge, and sighed as she unclasped her bracelets and took 
 off the diamond cross that fastened her collai\ 
 
 " Edna, ring for ITagar." 
 
 ," Will you not let me take her place to-night ? I warn 
 to talk to you before I go to sleep." 
 
ST. ELMC. 283 
 
 " Well, then, unlace my gaiters and take down m y hair, 
 Child, what makes you look so very serious ?" 
 
 " Because what I am about to say saddens me very 
 much. My dear Mrs. Murray, I have been in this house 
 five peaceful, happy, blessed years ; I have become warmly 
 attached to every thing about the home where I have been 
 so kindly sheltered during my girlhood, and the thought of 
 leaving it is exceedingly painful to me." 
 
 " What do you mean, Edna ? Have you come to your 
 senses at last, and consented to make Gordon happy ?" 
 
 " No, no. I am going to New-York to try to make my 
 bread." 
 
 " You are going to a lunatic asylum ! Stuff! nonsense ! 
 W hat can you do in New-York ? It is already overstocked 
 with poor men and women, who are on the verge of starva- 
 tion. Pooh ! pooh ! you look like making your bread. 
 Don't be silly." 
 
 " I know that I am competent now to take a situation as 
 teacher in a school, or family, and I am determined to 
 make the experiment immediately. I want to go to New- 
 York because I can command advantages there which nc 
 poor girl can obtain in any Southern city ; and the maga- 
 zine for which I expect to write is published there. Mr, 
 Manning says he will pay me liberally for such articles as 
 he accepts, and if I can only get a situation which I hear is 
 now vacant, I can easily support myself. Mrs. Powell 
 received a letter yesterday from a wealthy friend in New- 
 York who desires to secure a governess for her young child- 
 ren, one of whom is deformed. She said she was exces- 
 sively particular as to the character of the woman to whose 
 care she committed her crippled boy, and that she had ad- 
 vertised for one who could teach him Greek. I shall ask 
 Mrs. Powell and Mr. Hammond to telegraph to her to-moi- 
 row and request her not to engage any one till a letter can 
 reach her from Mr. Hammond and myself. I believe he 
 knows the lady, who is very distantly related to Mrs, 
 
284 ST. ELMO. 
 
 Powell. Still, before I took this step, I felt thai I owed it 
 to you to acquaint you with my intention. " 
 
 " It is a step which I can not sanction. I detest that Mrs, 
 Powell — I utterly loathe the sound of her name, and I 
 should be altogether unwilling to see you domesticated 
 with any of her ' friends.' I am surprised that Mr. Ham- 
 mond could encourage any such foolish scheme on your 
 part." 
 
 " As yet he is entirely ignorant of my plan, for I have 
 mentioned it to no one except yourself; but I do not think 
 he will oppose it. Dear Mrs. Murray, much as I love you, 
 I can not remain here any longer, for I could not continue 
 to owe my bread even to your kind and tender charity. 
 You have educated me, and only God knows how unutter- 
 ably grateful I am for all your goodness ; but now, I could 
 no longer preseiwe my self-respect or be happy as a de- 
 pendent on your bounty." 
 
 She had taken Mrs. Murray's hand, and while tears 
 gathered in her eyes, she kissed the fingers and pressed 
 them against her cheek. 
 
 " If you are too proud to remain here as you have done 
 for so many years, how do you suppose you can endure the 
 humiliations and affronts which will certainly be your por- 
 tion when you accept a hireling's position in the family of a 
 stranger? Don't you know that of all drudgery that re- 
 quired of governesses is most fraught with vexation and 
 bitterness of spirit ? I have never treated you as an upper 
 servant, but loved you and shielded you from slights and 
 insults as if you were my niece or my daughter. Edna, 
 you could not endure the lot you have selected ; your proud, 
 sensitive nature would be galled to desperation. Stay here 
 and help me keep house ; write and study as much as you 
 like, and do as you please ; only don't leave me." 
 
 She drew the girl to her bosom, and while she kissed her, 
 tears fell on the pale face. 
 
 " O Mrs. Murray ! it is hard to leave you ! For indeed I 
 
st. ELxrc 285 
 
 love you more than you will ever believe or reaJIze ; but I 
 must go ! I feel that it is my duty, and you would not 
 wish me to stay here and be unhappy." 
 
 " Unhappy here ! Why so ? Something is wrong, and 
 I must know just what it is. Somebody has been meddling 
 — taunting you. Edna, I ask a plain question, and I want 
 the whole truth. You and Estelle do not like each other ; 
 is her presence here the cause of your determination to quit 
 my house ?" 
 
 "No, Mrs. Murray; if she were not here I should still 
 feel it my duty to go out and earn my living. You are cor- 
 rect in saying we do not particularly like each other ; there 
 is little sympathy between us, but no bad feeling that I am 
 aware of, and she is not the cause of my departure." 
 
 Mrs. Murray was silent a moment, scrutinizing the face 
 on her shoulder. 
 
 " Edna, can it be my son ? Has some harsh speech of St. 
 Elmo's piqued and wounded you?" 
 
 " Oh ! no. His manner toward me is quite as polite, nay, 
 rather more considerate than when I first came here. Be- 
 side, you know, we are almost strangers ; sometimes weeks 
 elapse without our exchanging a word." 
 
 " Are you sure you have not had a quarrel with him ? I 
 know you dislike him ; I know how exceedingly provok- 
 ing he frequently is ; but, child, he is unfortunately consti- 
 tuted ; he is bitterly rude to every body, and does not mean 
 to wound you particularly." 
 
 " I have no complaint to make of Mr. Murray's manner 
 to me. I do not expect or desire that it should be other 
 than it is. Why do you doubt the sincerity of the reason I 
 gave for quitting dear old Bocage ? I have never expected 
 to live here longer than was necessary to qualify myself for 
 the work I have chosen." 
 
 " I doubt it because it is so incomprehensible that a young 
 girl, who might be Gordon Leigh's happy wife and mistress 
 of his elegant home, surrounded by every luxury, and idolized 
 
286 ST - ELMO. 
 
 by one of the noblest, handsomest men I ever knew, stotild 
 prefer to go among strangers and toil for a scanty li reli 
 hood. Now I know something of human nature, and I 
 know that your course is very singular, very unnatural. 
 Edna, my child ! my dear, little girl ! I can't let you go. I 
 want you ! I can't spare you ! I find I love you too well, 
 my sweet comforter in all my troubles ! my only real com- 
 panion !" 
 
 She clasped the orphan closer, and wept. 
 
 "Oh! you don't know how precious your love is to my 
 heart, dear, dear Mrs. Murray ! In all this wide world 
 whom have I to love me but you and Mr. Hammond ? Even 
 in the great sorrow of leaving you, it will gladden me to 
 feel that I possess so fully your confidence and affection. 
 But I must go away; and after a little while you will not 
 miss me ; for Estelle will be with you, and you will not need 
 me. Oh ! it is hard to leave you ! it is a bitter trial ! But I 
 know what my duty is ; and were it even more difficult, I 
 would not hesitate. I hope you will not think me unduly 
 obstinate when I tell you, that I have fully determined to 
 apply for that situation in New-York." 
 
 Mrs. Murray pushed the girl from her, and, with a sob, 
 buried her face in her arms. 
 
 Edna waited in vain for her to speak, and finally she 
 stooped, kissed one of the hands, and said brokenly as she 
 left the room : 
 
 " Good-night — my dearest — my best friend. If you could 
 only look into my heart and see how it aches at the thought 
 t*f separation, you would not add the pain of your dis- 
 pleasure to that which I already suffer." 
 
 When the orphan opened her eyes on the following morn- 
 ing, she found a note pinned to her pillow : 
 
 " My Dear Edsta : I could not sleep last night in conse- 
 quence of your unfortunate resolution, and I write to beg 
 you, for my sake if not for your own, to reconsider the mat 
 
St. jelmo. 287 
 
 ter. I will gladly pay you the same salary that 3 on expect 
 to receive as governess, if you will remain as my companion 
 and assistant at Le Bocage. I can not consent to give 
 you up ; I love you too well, my child, to see you quit my 
 house. I shall soon be an old woman, and then what would 
 I do without my little orphan girl ? Stay with me always, 
 and you shall never know what want and toil and hardship 
 mean. As soon as you are awake, come and kiss me good- 
 morning, and I shall know that you are my own dear, little 
 Edna. Affectionately yours, 
 
 Ellen Murray." 
 
 Edna knelt and prayed for strength to do what she felt 
 duty sternly dictated ; but, though her will did not falter 
 her heart bled, as she wrote a few lines thanking her bene- 
 factress for the affection that had brightened and warmed 
 her whole lonely life, and assuring her that .the reasons 
 which induced her to leave Le Bocage were imperative and 
 unanswerable. 
 
 An hour later she entered the breakfast-room, and found 
 the members of the family already assembled. While Mrs. 
 Murray was cold and haughty, taking no notice of Edna's 
 salutation, Estelle talked gayly with Mr. Allston concerning 
 a horseback ride they intended to take that morning ; and 
 Mr. Murray, leaning back in his chair, seemed engrossed in 
 the columns of the London Times, which contained a re- 
 cent speech of Gladstone's. Presently he threw down the 
 paper, looked at his watch and ordered his horse. 
 
 "St. Elmo, where are you going? Do allow yourself to 
 be prevailed upon to wait and ride with us." 
 
 Estelle's tone was musical and coaxing, as she approached 
 her cousin and put one of her fingers through the button- 
 hole of his coat. 
 
 " Not for all the kingdoms that Satan pointed out from 
 the pinnacle of Mount Quarantina ! I have as insuperable 
 an objection to constituting one of a trio as some supersti- 
 
288 ST - elmo. 
 
 tious people have to forming part of a dinner-company of 
 thirteen. Where am I going ? To that 'Sea of Serenity,' 
 which astronomers tell us is located in the left eye of the 
 face known in common parlance as the man in the moon. 
 Where am I going ? To Western Ross-shire, to pitch my 
 tent and smoke my cigar in peace, on the brink of that 
 blessed Loch Maree, whereof Pennant wrote." 
 
 He shook' off Estelle's touch, walked to the mantel-piece, 
 and taking a match from the china case, drew it across the 
 heel of his boot. 
 
 " Where is Loch Maree ? I do not remember ever to 
 have seen the name," said Mrs. Murray, pushing aside her 
 coffee-cup. 
 
 " Oh ! pardon me, mother, if I decline to undertake your 
 geographical education. Ask that incipient Isotta . Noga- 
 role, sitting there at your right hand. Doubtless she wiL 
 find it a pleasing task to instruct you in Scottish topogra- 
 phy, while I have an engagement that forces me most re- 
 luctantly and respectfully to decline the honor of enlighten- 
 ing you. Confound these matches ! they are all wet." 
 
 Involuntarily Mrs. Murray's eyes turned to Edna, who 
 had not even glanced at St. Elmo since her entrance. Now 
 she looked up, and though she had 'not read Pennant, she 
 remembered the lines written on the old Druidic well by an 
 American poet. Yielding to some inexplicable impulse, 
 she slowly and gently repeated two verses : 
 
 " ' O restless heart and fevered brain ! 
 
 Unquiet and unstable, 
 That holy well of Loch Maree 
 
 Is more than idle fable ! 
 The shadows of a humble will 
 
 And contrite heart are o'er it : 
 Go read its legend—" Trust ra God " — 
 
 On Faith's white stones before it 1' " 
 
CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 jHILE your decision is inexpressibly painful to 
 me, I shall not attempt to dissuade you from a 
 resolution which I know has not been lightly 
 or hastily taken. But, ah my child ! what 
 shall I do without you ?" 
 
 Mr. Hammond's eyes filled with tears as he looked at his 
 pupil, and his hand trembled when he stroked her bowed 
 head. 
 
 " I dread the separation from you and Mrs. Murray ; but 
 I know I ought to go ; and I feel that when duty com- 
 mands me to follow a path, lonely and dreary though it 
 may seem, a light will be shed before my feet, and a staff 
 will be put into my hands. I have often wondered what 
 the Etrurians intended to personify in their Dii Tnvokiti, 
 before whose awful decrees all other gods bowed. Now I 
 feel assured that the chief of the ' Shrouded Gods ' is Duty, 
 vailing her features with a silver-lined cloud, scorning to 
 parley, but whose unbending finger signs our way — an un- 
 erring pillar of cloud by day, of fire by night. Mr. Ham- 
 mond, I shall follow that stern finger till the clods on my 
 coffin shut it from my sight." 
 
 The August sun shining through the lilac and myrtle 
 boughs that rustled close to the study- window glinted over 
 the pure, pale face of the. orphan, and showed a calm 
 mournfulness in the eyes which looked out at the quiet par- 
 sonage garden, and far away to the waving lines against 
 the sky, where 
 
 " A golden lustre slept upon the hills." 
 
290 ST. ELMO. 
 
 Just "beyond the low, ivy-wreathed stone W«fl that marked 
 the boundary of the garden ran a little stream, overhung 
 with alders and willows, under whose tremulous shadows 
 rested contented cattle — some knee-deep in water, some 
 browsing leisurely on purple-tufted clover. From the 
 wide, hot field, stretching away on the opposite side, came 
 the clear metallic ring of the scythes, as the mowers sharp- 
 ened them ; the mellow whistle of the driver lying on top 
 of the huge hay mass, beneath which the oxen crawled to- 
 ward the lowered bars ; and the sweet gurgling laughter 
 of two romping, sun-burned children, who swung on at 
 the back of the wagon. 
 
 Edna pointed to the peaceful picture, and said : "If Rosa 
 Bonheur could only put that on canvas for me, I would 
 hang it upon my walls in the great city whither I am go- 
 ing ; and when my weary days of work ended, I could sit 
 down before it, and fold my tired hands and look at it 
 through the mist of tears till its blessed calm stole into my 
 heart, and I believed myself once more with you, gazing 
 out of the study-window. Ah ! blessed among all gifted 
 women is Rosa Bonheur ! accounted worthy to wear what 
 other women may not aspire to — the Cross of the Legion 
 of Honor ! Yesterday, when I read the description of 
 the visit of the Empress to the studio, I think I was almost 
 as proud and happy as that patient worker at the easel, 
 when over her shoulders was hung the ribbon which France 
 decrees only to the mighty souls who increase her glory, 
 and before whom she bows in reverent gratitude. I am 
 glad that a woman's hand laid that badge of immortality 
 on womanly shoulders — a crowned head crowning the 
 Queen of Artists. I wonder if, when obscure and in dis- 
 guise, she haunted the abattoir die Houle, and worked on 
 amid the lowing and bleating of the victims- — I wonder if 
 faith prophesied of that distant day of glorious recompense, 
 when the ribbon of the Legion fluttered from Eugenie's 
 white fingers and she was exalted above all thrones ? For 
 
ST. ELMO. 291 
 
 who would barter Rosa's ribbon for Eugenie's c ow ^-jew- 
 els ? Some day, please Gocl, I hope to be considered wor- 
 thy to stand in that studio, in the Hue cFAssas, and touch 
 Rosa Bonheur's pure hand, and tell her how often a poor 
 girl in America — a blacksmith's grandchild — has clapped 
 her hands and thanked God for the glory which she ha& 
 shed — not on France alone, but upon all womanhood. 
 Bonheur ! blessing indeed ! Ah Mr. Hammond ! we all 
 wear our crosses, but they do not belong to the order of 
 the Legion of Honor." 
 
 The minister inclosed in his own the hand which she had 
 laid on his knee, and said gently but gravely : 
 
 " My child, your ambition is your besetting sin. It is 
 Satan pointing to the tree of knowledge, tempting you to 
 eat and become 'as gods.' Search your heart, and. I fear 
 you will find that while you believe you are dedicating your 
 talent entirely to the service of God, there is a spring of 
 selfishness underlying all. You are too proud, too am- 
 bitious of distinction, too eager to climb to some lofty 
 niche in the temple of fame, where your name, now un- 
 known, shall shine in the annals of literature and serve as 
 a beacon to encourage others equally as anxious for cele- 
 brity. I Avas not surprised to see you in print ; for long, 
 long ago, before you realized the extent of your mental 
 dowry, 1 saw the kindling of that ambitious spark whose 
 flame generally consumes the women in whose hearts it 
 burns. The history of literary females is not calculated to 
 allay the apprehension that oppresses me, as I watch you 
 just setting out on a career so fraught with trials of which 
 you have never dreamed. As a class, they are martyrs, 
 uncrowned and uncanonized ; jeered at by the masses, sin- 
 cerely pitied by a few earnest souls, and wept over by the 
 relatives who really love them. Thousands of women have 
 toiled over books that proved millstones and drowned them 
 in the sea of letters. How many of the hundreds of female 
 writers scattered through the world in this century, will be 
 
292 ST. ELMO. 
 
 remembered six months after the coffin closes over Jieii 
 weary, haggard faces ? Ton may answer, ' They made 
 their bread.' Ah child ! it .would have been sweeter if 
 earned at the wash-tub, or in the dairy, or by their needles. 
 It is the rough handling, the jars, the tension of her heart- 
 strings that sap the foundations of a woman's life, and con- 
 sign her to an early grave ; and a Cherokee rose-hedge is 
 not more thickly set with thorns than a literary career with 
 grievous, vexatious, tormenting disappointments. If you 
 succeed after years of labor and anxiety and harassing fears, 
 you will become a target for envy and malice, and, possi- 
 bly, for slander. Your own' sex will be jealous of your em- 
 inence, considering your superiority as an insult to their 
 mediocrity ; and mine will either ridicule or barely tolerate 
 you ; for men detest female competitors in the Olympian 
 game of literature. If you fail, you will be sneered down 
 till you become imbittered, soured, misanthropic ; a curse 
 to yourself, a burden to the friends who sympathize with 
 your blasted hopes. Edna, you have talent, you write well, 
 you are conscientious ; but you are not De Stael, or Hannah 
 More, or Charlotte Bronte, or Elizabeth Browning ; and I 
 shudder when I think of the disappointment that may over- 
 take all your eager aspirations. If I could be always near 
 you, I should indulge less apprehension for your future ; 
 for I believe that I could help you to bear patiently what- 
 ever is in store for you. But far away among strangers 
 you must struggle alone." 
 
 " Mr. Hammond, I do not rely upon myself; my hope is 
 in God." 
 
 " My child, the days of miraculous inspiration are 
 ended." 
 
 " Ah ! do not discourage me. When the Bishop of No- 
 yon hesitated to consecrate St. Radegund, she said to him, 
 ' Thou wilt have to render thy account, and the Sheuherd 
 will require of thee the souls of his sheep.' My dear sir, 
 your approbation is the consecration that I desire upon my 
 
ST. ELMO. 293 
 
 purpose. God will not forsake me ; he wJl strengtLei- and 
 guide me and bless my writing, even as he blesses your 
 preaching. Because he gave you five talents and to me 
 only one, do you think that in the great day of reckoning 
 mine will not be required of me ? I do not expect to ' enter 
 into the joy of my Lord' as you will be worthy to do ; but 
 with the blessing of God, I trust the doom of the alto 
 gcther unprofitable servant will not be pronounced against 
 me." 
 
 She had bowed her head till it rested on his knee, and 
 presently the old man put his hands upon the glossy hab 
 and murmured solemnly : 
 
 "And the peace of God, which passeth all understand- 
 ing, shall keep your heart and mind through Christ Jesus." 
 
 A brief silence reigned in the study, broken first by the 
 shout of the haymakers and the rippling laugh of the 
 children in the adjacent field, and then by the calm voicf 
 of the pastor : 
 
 " I have offered you a home with me as long as I have a 
 roof that I can call my own; but you prefer to go to New- 
 York, and henceforth I shall never cease to pray that your 
 resolution may prove fortunate in all respects. You no 
 longer require my directions in your studies, but I will sug- 
 gest that it might be expedient for you to give more atten- 
 tion to positive and less to abstract science. Remembei 
 those noble words of Sir David Brewster, to which, I be 
 lieve, I have already called your attention, ' If the God of 
 love is most appropriately worshiped in the Christian tem- 
 ple, the God of nature may be equally honored in the tem- 
 ple of science. Even from its lofty minarets the philosopher 
 may summon the faithful to prayer, and the priest and the 
 sage may exchange altars without the compromise of faith 
 or of knowledge.' Infidelity has shifted the battle-field 
 from metaphysics to physics, from idealism and rationalism 
 to positivism or rank materialism ; and in order to combat 
 it successfully, in order t.-j build up an imperishable system 
 
294 ST. ELMO. 
 
 of Christian teleology, it is necessary that you should tho 
 roughly acquaint yourself with the ' natural sciences,' with 
 dynamics, and all the so-called ' inherent forces in nature,' 
 or what Humboldt terms ' primordial necessity.' This apo- 
 theosis of dirt, by such men as Moleschott, Bilchner, and 
 Vogt, is the real Antaeus which, though continually over- 
 thrown, springs from mother earth with renewed vigor ; 
 and after a little while some Hercules of science will lift 
 the boaster in his inexorable arms and crush him." 
 
 Here Mrs. Powell entered the room, and Edna rose and 
 tied on her hat. 
 
 " Mr. Hammond, will you go over to see Huldah this 
 afternoon ? Poor little thing ! she is in great distress about 
 her father." 
 
 " I fear lie can not live many days. I went to see him 
 yesterday morning, and would go again with you now, but 
 have promised to baptize two children this evening." 
 
 Edna was opening the gate when Gertrude called to her 
 from a shaded corner of the yard, and turning, she saw her 
 playing with a fawn, about whose neck she had twined a 
 long spray of honeysuckle. 
 
 " Do come and see the beautiful present Mr. Murray sent 
 me several days ago. It is as gentle and playful as a kitten, 
 and seems to know me already." 
 
 Gertrude patted the head of her pretty pet and con- 
 tinued : 
 
 " I have often read about gazelle's eyes, and I wonder if 
 these are not qtiite as lovely ? Very often when I look at 
 them they remind me of yours. There is such a soft, sad, 
 patient expression, as if she knew perfectly well that some 
 day the hunters would be sure to catch her and kill her, 
 and she was meekly biding her time, to be turned into ven- 
 ison steak. I never will eat another piece ! The dear little 
 thing ! Edna, do you know that you have the most beau- 
 tiful eyes in the world, except Mr. Murray's ? His glitter 
 like great stars under long, long black silk fringe. By the 
 
ST. ELMO. 295 
 
 way, how is he ? I have not seen him for some days and 
 you can have no idea how I do want to look int.* his face^ 
 and hear his voice, which is so wonderfully sweet and low. 
 I wrote him a note thanking him for this little spotted dar- 
 ling ; but he has not answered it — has not come near me, 
 and I was afraid he might he sick." 
 
 Gertrude stole one arm around her companion's neck, 
 and nestled her golden head against the orphan's shoul- 
 der. 
 
 " Mr. Murray is very well ; at least, appears so. I saw 
 him at breakfast." 
 
 " Does he ever talk about me ?" 
 
 " No ; I never heard him mention your name but once, 
 and then it occurred incidentally." 
 
 " O Edna ! is it wrong for me to think about him so con- 
 stantly ? Don't press your lips together in that stern, hard 
 way. Dearie, put your arms around me, and kiss me. Oh ! 
 if you could know how very much I love him ! How happy 
 I am when he is with me. Edna, how can I help it ? When 
 he touches my hand, and smiles down at me, I forget every 
 thing else ! I feel as if I would follow him to the end o\ 
 the earth. He is a great deal older than I am ; but how 
 can I remember that, when he is looking at me with those 
 
 wonderful eyes ? The last time I saw him, he said well, 
 
 something very sweet, and I was sure he loved me, and I 
 leaned my head against his shoulder ; but he would not let 
 me touch him ; he pushed me away with a terrible frown, 
 that wrinkled and blackened his face. Oh ! it seems an age 
 since then." 
 
 Edna kissed the lovely coral lips, and smoothed the bright 
 curls that the wind had blown about the exquisitely moulded 
 cheeks. 
 
 " Gertrude, when he asks you to love him, you will i.ave 
 a right to indulge your affection ; but until then you ought 
 not to allow him to know your feelings, or permit yourself 
 to think so entirely of him." 
 
296 BT. ELMO. 
 
 "But do you believe it is wrong for me to love him so 
 much ?" 
 
 "That is a question which your own heart must an- 
 swer." 
 
 Edna felt that her own lips were growing cold, and she 
 disengaged the girl's clasping arms. 
 
 "Edna, I know you love me; will you do something for 
 me ? Please give him this note. I am afraid that he did 
 not receive the other, or that he is offended with me." 
 
 She drew a dainty three-cornered envelope from her 
 pocket. 
 
 " No, Gertrude ; I can be a party to no clandestine coi'- 
 respondence. I have too much respect for your uncle, to 
 assist in smuggling letters in and out of his house. Beside, 
 your mother would not sanction the course you are pur- 
 suing." 
 
 " Oh ! I showed her the other note, and she only laughed, 
 and patted my cheek, and said, " Why, Mignonne ! he is 
 old enough to be your father." This note is only to find 
 out whether he received the other. I sent it by the servant 
 
 who brought this fawn oh dear me ! just see what a hole 
 
 the pretty little wretch has nibbled in my new Swiss mus- 
 lin dress ! Won't mamma scold ! There, do go away, pet 
 I will feed you presently. Indeed, Edna, there is no harm 
 in your taking the note, for I give you my word mamma 
 does not care. Do you think I would tell you a story ? 
 Please, Edna. It will reach him so much sooner if you 
 carry it over, than if I were to drop it into the post-office, 
 where it may stay for a week ; and Uncle Allan has no ex- 
 tra servants to run around on errands for me." 
 
 " Gertrude, are you not deceiving me ? Are you sure 
 your mother read the other note and sanctions this ?" 
 
 " Certainly ; you may ask her if you doubt me. There ! 
 I must hurry in ; mamma is calling me. Dear Edna, if you 
 love me ! Yes, mamma, I am coming." 
 
 Edna could not resist the pleading of the lovely faca 
 
ST. ELMO. , 297 
 
 pressed close to hers, and with a sigh she took the unv note 
 and turned away. 
 
 More than a week had elapsed since Mr. Hammond and 
 Mrs. Powell had written, recommending her for the situa- 
 tion in Mrs. Andrews's family ; and with feverish impa- 
 tience she awaited the result. During this interval she had 
 not exchanged a word with Mr. Murray — had spent much 
 of her time in writing down in her note-book such refer- 
 ence* from the library, as she required in her MS. ; and while 
 Estelle seemed unusually high-spirited, Mrs. Murray watched 
 in silence the orphan's preparations for departure. 
 
 Absorbed in very painful reflections, the girl walked on 
 rapidly till she reached the cheerless home of the black 
 smith, and knocked at the door. 
 
 " Come in, Mr. Murray." 
 
 Edna pushed open the door and walked in. 
 
 " It is not Mr. Murray, this time." 
 
 " O Edna ! I am so glad you happened to come. He 
 would not let me tell you ; he said he did not wish it known. 
 But now you are here, you will stay with me, won't you, 
 till it is over ?" 
 
 Huldah was kneeling at the side of her father's cot, and 
 Edna was startled by the look of eager, breathless anxiety, 
 printed on her white, trembling face. 
 
 " What does she mean, Mr. Reed ?" 
 
 " Poor little lamb) she is so excited she can hardly speak, 
 and I am not strong enough to talk much. Huldah, daugh- 
 ter, tell Miss Edna all about it." 
 
 " Mr. Murray heard all I said to you about praying to 
 have my eyes opened, and he went to town that same even- 
 ing, and telegraphed to some doctor in Philadelphia,- who 
 cures blindness, to come on and see if he could do any thing 
 for my eyes. Mr. Murray was here this morning, and said 
 he had heard from the doctor, and that he would come this 
 afternoon. He said he could only stay till the cars left 
 for Chattanooga, as he must go back at once. You know 
 
298 - ST - Elmo. 
 
 he hush! There! there! I hear the carnage, ik w . 
 
 O Edna ! pray for me ! Pa, pray for my poor eyes !" 
 
 The sweet childish face was colorless, and tears filled 
 the filmy hazel eyes as Huldah clasped her hands. Her 
 lips moved rapidly, though no sound was audible. 
 
 Edna stepped behind the door and peeped through a 
 chink in the planks. 
 
 Mr. Murray entered first and beckoned to the stranger, 
 who paused at the threshold, with a case of instruments in 
 his hand. 
 
 " Come in, Hugh ; here is your patient, very much fright- 
 ened, too, I am afraid. Huldah, come to the light." 
 
 He drew her to the window, lifted her to a chair, and the 
 doctor beut down, pushed back his spectacles, and cautiously 
 examined the child's eyes. 
 
 " Don't tremble so, Huldah ; there is nothing to be afraid 
 of. The doctor will not hurt you." 
 
 " Oh ! it is not that I fear to be hurt ! Edna, are you 
 praying for me ?" 
 
 "Edna is not here," answered Mr. Murray, glancing 
 round the room. 
 
 " Yes, she is here. I did not tell her, but she happened 
 to come a little while ago. Edna, won't you hold one of 
 my hands ? O Edna ! Edna ! " 
 
 Reluctantly the orphan came forward, and, without lifting 
 her eyes, took one of the little outstretched hands firmly in 
 both her own. While Mr. Murray silently appropriated 
 the other, Huldah whispered : 
 
 " Please, both of you pray for me." 
 
 The doctor raised the eyelids several times, peered long 
 and curiously at the eyeballs, and opened his case of in- 
 struments. 
 
 "This is one of those instarces of congenital cataract 
 which might have been relieved long ago. A slight oper- 
 ation will remove the difficulty. St. Elmo, you asked me 
 about the probability of an instantaneous restoration, and 
 
ST. ELMO. 29S 
 
 *. had begun to tell you about that case which Wardrop 
 mentions of a woman blind from her birth till she waa 
 forty-six years of age. She could not distinguish objects 
 for several days. ..." 
 
 " O sir ! will I see ? Will I see my father ?" Her ringers 
 closed spasmodically over those that clasped them, and the 
 agonizing suspense written in her countenance was pitiable 
 to contemplate. 
 
 " Yes, my dear, I hope so — I think so. You know, Mur- 
 ray, the eye has to be trained ; but Haller mentions a case 
 of a nobleman who saw distinctly at various distances, im- 
 mediately after the cataract was removed from the axis of 
 vision. Now my little girl, hold just as still as possible. 
 I shall not hurt you." 
 
 Skilfully he cut through the membrane and drew it down, 
 then held his hat between her eyes and the light streaming 
 through the window. 
 
 Some seconds elapsed and suddenly a cry broke from the 
 child's lips. 
 
 " Oh ! something shines ! there is a light, I believe !" 
 
 Mr. Murray threw his handkerchief over her head, caught 
 her in his arms and placed her on the side of the cot. 
 
 " The first face her eyes ever look upon, shall be that 
 which she loves best — her father's." 
 
 As he withdrew the handkerchief Mr. Reed feebly raked 
 his arms toward his child, and whispered: 
 
 " My little Huldah — my daughter, can you see me ?" 
 
 She stooped, put her face close to his, swept her small 
 fingers repeatedly over the emaciated features, to convince 
 herself of the identity of the new sensation of sight with 
 the old and reliable sense of touch ; then she threw her 
 head back with a wild laugh, a scream of delight. 
 
 " Oh ! I see ! Thank God I see my father's face ! My dear 
 pa ! my own dear pa ! " 
 
 For some moments she hung over the sufferer kissing 
 him, murmuring brokenly her happy, tender words, and 
 now and then resorting to the old sense of touch. 
 
800 82. ELMO. 
 
 While Edna wiped away tears of joyful sympathy which 
 she strove in vain to restrain, she glanced at Mr. Murray, 
 and wondered how he could stand there watching the scene 
 with such bright, dry eyes. 
 
 Seeming suddenly to remember that there were other 
 countenances in the world beside that tear-stained one on 
 the pillow, Huldah slipped down from the cot, turned to- 
 ward the group, and shaded her eyes with her fingers. 
 
 " Edna ! an't you glad for me ? Where are you ? I 
 knew Jesus would hear me. ' What things soever ye desire, 
 when ye pray believe that ye receive them, and ye shall 
 have them.' I did believe, and I see ! I see ! I prayed 
 that God would send down some angel to touch my eyes, 
 and He sent Mr. Murray and the doctor." 
 
 After a pause, during which the oculist prepared some 
 bandages, Huldah added : 
 
 " Which one is Mr. Murray ? Will you, please, come to 
 me ? My ears and my fingers know you, but my eyes 
 don't." 
 
 He stepped forward and putting out her hands she grasped 
 his, and turned her untutored eyes upon him. Before he 
 could suspect her design she fell at his feet, threw her arms 
 around his knees, and exclaimed : 
 
 " How good you are ! How shall I ever thank you 
 enough ? How good." She clung to him and sobbed hys- 
 terically. 
 
 Edna saw him lift her from the floor and put her back 
 beside her father, while the doctor bandaged her eyes; and 
 waiting to hear no more, the orphan glided away and hur- 
 ried along the road. 
 
 Ere she had proceeded far^she heard the quick trot of the 
 horses, the roll of the carriage. Leaning out as they over- 
 took her, Mr. Murray directed the driver to stop, and 
 swinging open the door, he stepped out and approached her. 
 
 " The doctor dines at Le Bocage ; will you take a seaT 
 with us, or do you, as usual, prefer to walk alone?" 
 
ST. ELMO. 301 
 
 " Thank you, sir ; I am not going home now, I shaL 
 walk on." 
 
 He bowed, and was turning away, but she drew the de- 
 .'icateiy perfumed envelope from her pocket. 
 
 " Mr. Murray, I was requested by the writer to hand you 
 this note, as she feared its predecessor was lost by the ser- 
 vant to whom she intrusted it." 
 
 He took it, glanced at the small, cramped, school-girlish 
 handwriting, smiled, and thrust it into his vest-pocket, 
 saying in a low earnest tone : 
 
 " This is, indeed, a joyful surprise. You are certainly 
 more reliable than Henry. Accept my cordial thanks, which 
 I have not time to reiterate. I generally prefer to owe my 
 happiness entirely to Gertrude; but in this instance I can 
 bear to receive it through the medium of your hands. As 
 you are so prompt and trusty, I may trouble you to carry 
 my answer." 
 
 The carriage rolled on, leaving a cloud of dust which the 
 evening sunshine converted into a glittering track of glory, 
 and seating herself on a grassy bank, Edna leaned her head 
 against the body of a tree ; and all the glory passed swiftly 
 away, and she was alone in the dust. 
 
 As the sun went down, the pillared forest aisles stretch- 
 ing westward filled first with golden haze, then glowed with 
 a light redder than Phthiotan wine poured from the burn- 
 ing beaker of the sun; and only the mournful cooing of 
 doves broke the solemn silence as the pine organ whispered 
 its low coranach for the dead day; and the cool shadow of 
 coming night crept, purple-mantled, velvet-sandaled, down 
 the forest glades. 
 
 " Oh ! if I had gone away a week ago ! before I knew 
 there was any redeeming charity in his sinful nature ! If I 
 could only despise him utterly, it would be so much easier 
 to forget him. Ah ! God pity me ! God help me ! "What 
 right have I to think of Gertrude's lover — Gertrude's hus- 
 band ! I ought to be glad that he is nobler than I thought, 
 
302 8T. ELMO. 
 
 but I am not ! Oh ! I am not ! I wish I bad never known 
 the good that he has done. O Edna Earl ! has it come tc 
 this ? has it come to this ? How I despise — how I hate my- 
 self ! " 
 
 Rising, she shook back her thick hair, passed her hands 
 over her hot temples, and stood listening to the distant 
 whistle of a partridge — to the plaint of the lonely dove 
 nestled among the pine boughs high above her ; and gra- 
 dually a holy calm stole over her face, fixing it as the 
 merciful touch of death stills features that have long writh- 
 ed in mortal agony. Into her struggling heart entered a 
 strength which comes only when weary, wrestling, honest 
 souls turn from human sympathy, seek the hallowed clois- 
 ters of Nature, and are folded tenderly in the loving arms 
 of Mother Cybele, who ' never did betray the heart that 
 loved her.' 
 
 " Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns, 
 And the round ocean and the living air, 
 And the blue sky . . . Tis her privilege, 
 Through all the years of this our life, to lead 
 From joy to joy ; for she can so inform 
 The mind that is within us, so impress 
 With quietness and beauty, and so feed 
 With lofty thoughts, that neither 'evil tongues, 
 Eash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men, 
 Nor greetings where no kindness is — nor all 
 The dreary intercourse of daily life, 
 Shall e'er prevail against us, or disturb 
 Our cheerful faith, that all which we behold 
 Is full of blessing." 
 
 To her dewy altars among the mountains of Gilead fled 
 Jephthah's daughter, in the days when she sought for 
 strength to fulfil her father's battle-vow ; and into her pity- 
 ing starry eyes looked stricken Rizpah, from those dreary 
 rocks where love held faithful vigil, guarding the bleaching 
 bones of her darling dead, sacrificed for the sins of SauL 
 
CHAPTER XXEL 
 
 RS. ANDREWS writes that I must go on with aa 
 little delay as possible, and I shall start early 
 Monday morning, as I wish to stop for one day 
 at Chattanooga." 
 
 Edna rose and took her hat from the study-table, and 
 Mr. Hammond asked : 
 
 " Do you intend to travel alone ?" 
 
 " I shall be compelled to do so, as I know of no one who 
 is going on to New- York. Of course, I dislike very much 
 to travel alone, but in this instance I do not see how I cai 
 avoid it." 
 
 " Do not put on your hat — stay and spend the evening 
 with me." 
 
 " Thank you, sir, I want to go to the church and prac- 
 tise for the last time on the organ. After to-morrow, I may 
 never sing again in our dear choir. Perhaps I may come 
 back after a while and stay an hour or two with you." 
 
 During the past year she had accustomed herself to prac- 
 tising every Saturday afternoon the hymns selected by 
 Mr. Hammond for the services of the ensuing day, and for 
 this purpose had been furnished by the sexton with a key, 
 which enabled her to enter the church whenever inclination 
 prompted. The church-yard was peaceful and silent as 
 the pulseless dust in its numerous sepulchres ; a beautiful 
 red-bird sat on the edge of a marble vase that crowned the 
 top of one of the monuments, and leisurely drank the water 
 which yesterday's clouds had poured there, and a rabbit 
 
304 ST. ELMO. 
 
 nibbled the leaves of a cluster of pinks growing near a chLd's 
 grave. 
 
 Edna entered the cool church, went up into the gallery, 
 and sat down before the organ. For some time the low 
 solemn tones whispered among the fluted columns that 
 supported the gallery, and gradually swelled louder and 
 fuller and richer as she sang : 
 
 " Cast thy burden on the Lord." 
 
 Her magnificent voice faltered more than once, and tears 
 fell thick and fast on the keys. Finally she turned and 
 looked down at the sacred spot where she had been bap- 
 tized by Mr. Hammond, and where she had so often knelt 
 to receive the sacrament of the Lord's Supper. 
 
 The church was remarkably handsome and tasteful, and 
 certainly justified the pride with which the villagers exhib- 
 ited it to all strangers. The massive mahogany pew-doors 
 were elaborately carved and surmounted by small crosses ; 
 the tall, arched windows were of superb stained glass, re- 
 presenting the twelve apostles ; the floor and balustrade of 
 the altar, and the grand, Gothic pillared pulpit, were all of 
 the purest white marble ; and the capitals, of the airy, ele- 
 gant columns of the same material, that supported the organ 
 gallery, were ornamented with rich grape-leaf mouldings ; 
 while the large window behind and above the pulpit con- 
 tained a figure of Christ bearing his Cross — a noble copy 
 of the great painting of Solario, at Berlin. 
 
 As the afternoon sun shone on the glass, a flood of ruby 
 light fell from the garments of Jesus upon the glittering 
 marble beneath, and the nimbus that radiated around the 
 crown of thorns caught a glory that was dazzling. 
 
 With a feeling of adoration that no language could ade- 
 quately express, Edna had watched and studied this costly 
 painted window for five long years ; had found a marvel- 
 lous fascination in the pallid face stained with purplish 
 blood drops ; in the parted lips quivering with human pain, 
 
ST. ELMO. 305 
 
 end anguish of spirit ; in the unfathonuLe divine eyet that 
 pierced the veil and rested upon the Father's face. Not all 
 the sermons of Bossuet, or Chalmers, or Jeremy Taylor, or 
 Melville, had power to stir the great deeps of her soul like 
 one glance at that pale thorn-crowned Christ, who looked in 
 voiceless woe and sublime resignation over the world he 
 was dying to redeem. 
 
 To-day she gazed up at the picture of Emmanuel, till 
 her eyes grew dim with tears, and she leaned her head 
 against the mahogany railing and murmured sadly : 
 
 " ' And he that taketh not his cross, and followeth after 
 me, is not worthy of me !' Strengthen me, O my Saviour ! 
 bo that I neither faint nor stagger under mine !" 
 
 The echo of her words died away among the arches of 
 the roof, and all was still in the sanctuary. The swaying 
 of the trees outside of the windows threw now a golden 
 shimmer, then a violet shadow over the gleaming altar pave- 
 ment ; and the sun sank lower, and the nimbus faded, and 
 the wan Christ looked ghastly and toil-spent. 
 
 "Edna ! My darling ! my darling !" 
 
 The pleading cry, the tremulous, tender voice so full of 
 pathos, rang startlingly through the silent church, and the 
 orphan sprang up and saw Mr. Murray standing at her 
 side, with his arms extended toward her, and a glow on his 
 face and a look in his eyes which she had never seen there 
 before. 
 
 She drew back a few steps and gazed wonderingly at 
 him ; but he followed, threw his arm around her, and, de- 
 spite her resistance, strained her to his heart. 
 
 " Did you believe that I would let you go ? Did you 
 dream that I would see my darling leave me, and go out 
 into the world to be buffeted and sorely tried, to struggle 
 with poverty — and to suffer alone ? O silly child ! I 
 would part with my own life sooner than give you up! 
 Of what value would it be without you, my pearl, my sole 
 hope, my only love, my own pure Edna " 
 
306 ST - elmo. 
 
 " Such language you have no right to utter, and I r.one to 
 hear ! It is dishonorable in you and insulting to me. Ger- 
 trude's lover can not, and shall not, address such words to 
 me. Unwind your arms instantly ! Let me go !" 
 
 She struggled hard to free herself, but his clasp tighten- 
 ed, and as he pressed her face against his bosom, he threw 
 his head back and laughed: 
 
 " ' Gertrude's lover !' Knowing my history, how could 
 you believe that possible ? Am I, think you, so meek and 
 forgiving a spirit as to turn and kiss the hand that smote 
 me ? Gertrude's lover ! Ha ! ha ! ! Your jealousy blinds 
 you, my " 
 
 " I know nothing of your history ; I have never asked ; 
 I have never been told one word ! But I am not blind, 
 I know that you love her, and I know, too, that she fully 
 reciprocates your affection. If you do not wish me to de- 
 spise you utterly, leave me at once." 
 
 He laughed again, and put his lips close to her ear, saying 
 softly, tenderly — ah! how tenderly: 
 
 " Upon my honor as a gentleman, I solemnly swear that 
 I love but one woman ; that I love her as no other woman 
 ever was loved ; with a love that passes all language ; a 
 love that is the only light and hope of a wrecked, cursed, 
 unutterably miserable life ; and that idol which I have set 
 up in the lonely gray ruins of my heart is Edna Earl J" 
 
 " I do not believe you ! You have no honor ! With the 
 touch of Gertrude's lips and arms still on yours, you come 
 to me and dare to perjure yourself ! O Mr. Murray ! 
 Mr. Murray ! I did not believe you capable of such despic- 
 able dissimulation ! In the catalogue of your sins, I never 
 counted deceit, I thought you too proud to play the hypo- 
 crite. If you could realize how I loathe and abhor you, 
 you would get out of my sight ! You would not waste 
 time in words that sink you deeper and deeper in shameful 
 duplicity. Poor Gertrude ! How entirely you mistake 
 
8T. ELMO. 3((7 
 
 your lover's character! How youi lov€ v^ll change to 
 scorn and detestation !" 
 
 In vain she endeavored to wrench away Ms arm , a hand 
 of steel would have heen as flexible ; but St. Elmo's voice 
 hardened, and Edna felt his heart throb fiercely against her 
 cheek as he answered : 
 
 "When you are my wife you will repent your rash 
 words, and blush at the remembrance of having told your 
 husband that he was devoid of honor. You are piqued and 
 jealous, just as I intended you should be ; but, darling, I 
 am not a patient man, and it frets me to feel you struggling 
 so desperately in the arms that henceforth will always en- 
 fold you. Be quiet and hear me, for I have much to tell 
 you. Don't turn your face away from mine, your lips be- 
 long to me. I never kissed Gertrude in my life, and so help 
 me God, I never will ! Hear " 
 
 " No ! I will hear nothing ! Your touch is profanation. 
 I would sooner go down into my grave, out there in the 
 church-yard, under the granite slabs, than become the wife 
 of a man so unprincipled. I am neither piqued nor jealous, 
 for your affairs can not affect my life ; I am only astonished 
 and mortified and grieved. I would sooner feel the coil of 
 a serpent around my waist than your arms." 
 
 Instantly they fell away. He crossed them on his chest, 
 and his voice sank to a husky whisper, as the wind hushes 
 itself just before the storm breaks. 
 
 " Edna, God is my witness that I am not deceiving you ; 
 that my words come from the great troubled depths of a 
 wretched heart. You said you knew nothing of my his- 
 tory. I find it more difficult to believe you than you to 
 credit my declarations. Answer one question: Has not 
 your pastor taught you to distrust me ? Can it be possible 
 that no hint of the past has fallen from his lips ?" 
 
 " Not one unkind word, not one syllable of your* history 
 has he uttered. I know no more of your past than if it 
 were buried in mid-osean." 
 
g08 ST. ELMO. 
 
 Mr. Murray placed her in one of the cushioned chaiis de- 
 signed for the use of the choir, and leaning back against 
 the railing of the gallery, fixed his eyes on Edna's face. 
 
 " Then it is not surprising that you distrust me, for you 
 know not my provocation. Edna, will you be patient ? 
 Will you go back with me over the scorched and blackened 
 track of an accursed and sinful life ? Ha ! it is a hideous 
 waste I am inviting you to traverse ! "Will you ?" 
 
 " I will hear you, Mr. Murray, but nothing that you can 
 say will exculpate your duplicity to Gertrude, and " 
 
 "D — n Gertrude ! I ask you to listen, and suspend 
 your judgment till you know the circumstances." 
 
 He covered his eyes with his hand, and in the brief si- 
 lence she heard the ticking of his watch. 
 
 "Edna, I roll away the stone from the charnel-house of 
 the past, and call forth the Lazarus of my buried youth, 
 my hopes, my faith in God, my trust in human nature, my 
 charity, my slaughtered manhood ! My Lazarus has ten- 
 anted the grave for nearly twenty years, and comes forth, 
 at my bidding, a grinning skeleton. You may or may not 
 know that my father, Paul Murray, died when I was an in- 
 fant, leaving my mother the sole guardian of my property 
 and person. I grew up at Le Bocage under the training 
 of Mr. Hammond, my tutor; and my only associate, my 
 companion from earliest recollection, was his son Murray, 
 who was two years my senior, and named for my father. 
 The hold which that boy took upon my affection was won- 
 derful, inexplicable ! He wound me around his finger as 
 you wind the silken threads with which you embroider, 
 We studied, read, played together. I was never contented 
 out of his sight, never satisfied until I saw him liberally 
 supplied with every thing that gave me pleasure. I believe 
 I was very precocious, and made extraordinary strides in 
 the path of learning ; at all events, at sixteen I was consid- 
 ered a remarkable boy. Mr. Hammond had six children ; 
 and as his salary was rather meagre, I insisted on paying 
 
ST. MLMa 309 
 
 his son's expenses as well us my own when I tvert Sc Yale, 
 I could not bear that my Damon, my Jonathan, slould be 
 out of my sight ; I must have my idol always with me* 
 His father was educating him for the ministry, and he had 
 already commenced the study of theology ; but no ! I must 
 have him with me at Yale, and so to Yale we went. I had 
 fancied myself a Christian, had joined the church, was zeal- 
 ous and faithful in all my religious duties. In a fit of pious 
 enthusiasm I planned this church — ordered it built. The 
 cost was enormous, and my mother objected, but I intend- 
 ed it as a shrine for the ' apple of my eye,' and where he 
 was concerned, what mattered the expenditure of thou- 
 sands ? Was not my fortune quite as much at his disposal 
 as at mine ? I looked forward with fond pride to the time 
 when I should see my idol — Murray Hammond — standing 
 in yonder shining pulpit. Ha ! at this instant it is filled 
 with a hideous spectre ! I see him there ! His form and 
 features mocking me, daring me to forget ! Handsome as 
 Apollo ! treacherous as Apollyon !" 
 
 He paused, pointing to the pure marble pile where a vio- 
 let flame seemed flickering, and then with a groan bowed 
 his head upon the railing. When he spoke again, his face 
 wore an ashy hue, and his stern mouth was unsteady. 
 
 u Hallowed days of my blessed boyhood ! Ah ! they rise 
 before me now, like holy burning stars, breakiug out in a 
 stormy howling night, making the blackness blacker still ! 
 My short happy springtime of life ! So full of noble aspira- 
 tions, of glowing hopes, of philanthropic schemes, of all 
 charitable projects ! I would do so much good with my 
 money ! my heart was brimming with generous impulses, 
 with warm sympathy and care for my fellow-creatures. 
 Every needy sufferer should find relief at my hands, as long 
 as I possessed a dollar or a crust ! As I look back now at 
 that dead self, and remember all that I was, all the purity 
 of my life, the nobility of my character, the tenderness of 
 my heart — I do not wonder that people who knew me then^ 
 
310 ST. ELMO. 
 
 predicted that I would prove an honor, a blessing to my 
 race ! Mark you ! that was St. Elmo Murray — as nature 
 fashioned him ; before man spoiled God's handiwork. 
 Back ! back to your shroud and sepulchre, O Lazarus 
 of my youth ! and when I am called to the final judgment, 
 rise for me ! stand in my place, and confront those who 
 
 slaughtered you ! My affection for my 
 
 chum, Murray, increased as I grew up to manhood, and there 
 was not a dream of my brain, a hope of my heart which 
 was not confided to him. I reverenced, I trusted, I almost 
 — nay I quite worshipped him ! When I was only eighteen 
 I began to love his cousin, whose father was pastor of a 
 church in New-Haven, and whose mother was Mr. Ham- 
 mond's sister. You have seen her. She is beautiful even 
 now, and you can imagine how lovely Agnes Hunt was in 
 her girlhood. She was the belle and pet of the students, 
 and before I had known her a month, I was her accepted 
 lover. I loved her with all the devotion of my chivalric, 
 ardent, boyish nature ; and for me she professed the most 
 profound attachment. Pier parents favored our wishes for 
 an early marriage, but my mother refused to sanction such 
 an idea until I had completed my education, and visited 
 the old world. I was an obedient, affectionate son then, and 
 yielded respectfully ; but as the vacation approached, I pre- 
 pared to come home, hoping to prevail on mother to consent 
 to my being married just before we sailed for Europe the 
 ensuing year, after I graduated. Murray was my confidant 
 and adviser. In his sympathizing ears I poured all my fond 
 hopes, and he insisted that I ought to take my lovely bride 
 with me ; it would be cruel to leave her so long ; and beside, 
 he was so impatient for the happy day when he should call 
 me his cousin. He declined coming home, on the plea of 
 desiring to prosecute his theological studies with his uncle, 
 Mr. Hunt. Well do I recollect the parting between us. 
 I had left Agnes in tears — inconsolable because of my de- 
 parture ; and I flew to Murray for words of consolation. 
 
ST. ®LMO. 3H 
 
 When I bade him good-bye my eyes were full ot tears, an.l 
 as he passed his arm around my shoulders, I whispered, 
 ' Murray, take care of my angel Agnes for me ! watch over 
 and .comfort her while I am away.' Ah ! as I stand here 
 to-day, I hear again ringing over the ruins of the past 
 twenty years, his sweet loving musical tones answering : 
 
 *' 'My dear boy, trust her to my care. St. Elmo, for your 
 dear sake I will steal time from my books to cheer her 
 while you are absent. But hurry back, for you know I 
 find black-letter more attractive than! blue eyes. God blesa 
 you, my precious friend. Write to me constantly.' 
 
 " Since then, I always shudder involuntarily when I hear 
 parting friends bless each other — for well, well do I know 
 the stinging curse coiled up in those smooth liquid 
 words ! I came home and busied myself in the erection of 
 this church ; in plans for Murray's advancement in life, as 
 well as my own. My importunity prevailed over my 
 mother's sensible objections, and she finally consented that 
 I should take my bride to Europe ; while I had informed 
 Mr. Hammond that I wished Murray to accompany us; 
 that I would gladly pay his travelling expenses — I was so 
 anxious for him to see the East, especially Palestine. Full 
 of happy hopes, I hurried back earlier than I had intended, 
 and reached New-Haven very unexpectedly. The night 
 was bright with moonshine, my heart was bright with 
 hope, and too eager to see Agnes, whose letters had breathed 
 the most tender solicitude and attachment, I rushed up the 
 steps, and was told that she was walking in the little flower- 
 garden. Down the path I hurried, and stopped as I heard 
 her silvery laugh blended with Murray's ; then my name 
 was pronounced in tones that almost petrified me. Under 
 a large apple-tree in the parsonage-garden they sat on a 
 wooden bench, and only the tendrils and branches of an 
 Isabella grape-vine divided us. I stood there, grasping the 
 vine — looking through the leaves at the two whom I had 
 so idolized; and saw her beautiful golden head flashing 
 
312 ST - ELMO. 
 
 in the moonlight as she rested it on her cousin's breast 
 heard and' saw their kisses ; heard — — what wrecked, 
 blasted me ! I heard myself ridiculed — sneered at — ma- 
 ligned ; heard that I was to be a mere puppet — a cat's 
 paw ; that I was a doting, silly fool — easily hoodwinked ; 
 that she found it difficult, almost impossible, to endure my 
 caresses ; that she shuddered in my arms, and flew for hap- 
 piness to his ! I heard that from the beginning I had been 
 duped; that they had always loved each other — always 
 would ; but poverty stubbornly barred their marriage — 
 and she must be sacrificed to secure my princely fortune 
 for the use of both ! All that was uttered I can not now 
 recapitulate ; but it is carefully embalmed, and lies in the 
 little Taj Mahal, among other cherished souvenirs of my 
 precious friendships ! While I stood there, I was trans- 
 formed ; the soul of St. Elmo seem to pass away — a fiend 
 took possession of me ; love died, hope with it — and an insati- 
 able thirst for vengeance set my blood on fire. During 
 those ten miuutes my whole nature w T as warped, distorted ; 
 my life blasted — mutilated — deformed. The loss of Agnes's 
 love I could have borne, nay — fool that I was ! — I think 
 ray quondam generous affection for Murray would have 
 made me relinquish her almost* resignedly, if his happiness 
 had demanded the sacrifice on my part. If he had come to 
 me frankly and acknowledged all, my insane idolatry would 
 have made me place her hand in his, and remove the barrier 
 of poverty ; and the assurance that I had secured his life-long 
 happiness would have sufficed for mine. Oh ! the height 
 and depth and marvellous strength of my love for that 
 man passes comprehension ! But their scorn, their sneers 
 at my weak credulity, their bitter ridicule of my awkward, 
 overgrown boyishness, stung me to desperation. I won- 
 dered if I were insane, or dreaming, or the victim of some 
 horrible delusion. My veins ran fire as I listeued to the 
 tangling of her silvery voice with the rich melody of his, 
 and I turned and left the garden, and walked back toward 
 
ST. ELMO. 313 
 
 the town. The moon was full, but I staggered and groped 
 my way like one blind to the college buildings. I knew 
 where a pair of pistols was kept by one of the students, 
 and possessing myself of them, I wandered out on the road 
 leading to the parsonage. I was aware that Murray intended 
 coming into the town, and at last I reeled into a shaded 
 spot near the road, and waited for him. Oh ! the mocking 
 glory of that cloudless night ! To this day, I hate the cold 
 glitter of stars, and the golden sheen of midnight moons ? 
 For the first time in my life, I cursed the world and all it 
 held ; cursed the contented cricket singing in the grass at 
 my feet ; cursed the blood in my arteries, that beat so thick 
 and fast, I could not listen for the footsteps I was waiting 
 for. At last I heard him whistling a favorite tune, which 
 all our lives we had whistled together, as we hunted 
 through the woods around Le Bocage ; and, as the familiar 
 sound of 'The Braes of Balquither' drew nearer and 
 nearer, I sprang up with a cry that must have rung on the 
 night air like the yell of some beast of prey. Of all that 
 passed, I only know that I cursed and insulted and mad- 
 dened him till he accepted the pistol, which I thrust into 
 his hand. We moved ten paces apart — and a couple of 
 students who happened,, accidentally, to pass along the road 
 and heard our altercation, stopped at our request, gave 
 the word of command, and we fired simultaneously. The 
 ball entered Murray's heart, and he fell dead without a 
 word. I was severely wounded in the chest, and now I 
 wear the ball here in my side. Ah ! a precious in memo- 
 nam of murdered confidence !" 
 
 Until now Edna had listened breathlessly, with her eyes 
 upon his ; but here a groan escaped her, and she shuddered 
 violently, and hid her face in her hands. 
 
 Mr. Murray came nearer, stood close to her, and hurried 
 on. 
 
 " My last memory of my old idol is as he lay with his 
 handsome, treacherous face turned up to the moon ; and the 
 
3M ST. ELMO. 
 
 hair which Agnes had been fingering, dabbled with dew 
 and the blood that oozed down from his side. When 1 
 recovered my consciousness, Murray Hainmoni had been 
 three weeks in his grave. As soon as I was able to travel, 
 my mother took me to Europe, and for five years we lived 
 in Paris, Naples, or wandered to and fro. Then she came 
 home, and I plunged into the heart of Asia. After two 
 years I returned to Paris, and gave myself tip to every 
 species of dissipation. I drank, gambled, and my midnight 
 carousals would sicken your soul, were I to paint all their 
 hideousness. You have read in the Scriptures of persons pos- 
 sessed of devils ? A savage, mocking, tearing devil held me 
 in bondage. I sold myself to my Mephistopheles, on condi- 
 tion that my revenge might be complete. I hated the whole 
 world with an intolerable, murderous hate ; and to mock 
 and make my race suffer was the only real pleasure I found. 
 The very name, the bare mention of religion maddened 
 me. A minister's daughter, a minister's son, a minister 
 hhnself, had withered my young life, and I blasphemously 
 derided all holy things. O Edna ! my darling ! it is im- 
 possible to paint all the awful wretchedness of that period, 
 when I walked in the world seeking victims and finding 
 
 many. Verily, 
 
 ' There's not a crime 
 But takes its proper change out still in crime, 
 If once rung on the counter of this world, 
 Let sinners look to it.' 
 
 Ah! upon how many lovely women have I visited Agnes' s 
 sin of hypocrisy ! Into how many ears have I poured 
 tender words, until fair hands were as good as offered to 
 me, and I turned their love to mockery ! I hated and de- 
 spised all womanhood ; and even in Paris I became cele- 
 brated as a heartless trifler with the affections I won and 
 trampled under my feet. Whenever a brilliant and beau- 
 tiful woman crossed my path, I attached myself to her 
 train of admirers, until I made her acknowledge my power 
 
ST. ELMO. 315 
 
 and give public and unmistakable manifestation of her pre- 
 ference for me ; then I left her — a target for the laughter 
 of her circle. It was not vanity ; oh ! no, no ! That 
 springs from self-love, and I had none. It was hate of every 
 thing human, especially of every thing feminine. One of 
 the fairest faces that ever brightened the haunts of fashion 
 — a queenly, elegant girl — the pet of her family and of 
 society, now wears serge garments and a black veil, and is 
 immured in an Italian convent, because I entirely won her 
 heart ; and when she waited for me to declare my affection 
 and ask her to become my wife, I quitted her side for that 
 of another belle, and never visited her again. On the day 
 when she bade adieu to the world, I was among the spec- 
 tators ; and as her mournful but lovely eyes sought mine, 
 I laughed, and gloried in the desolation I had wrought. 
 Sick of Europe, I came home. . . . 
 
 ' And to a part I come where no light shines.' 
 
 My tempting fiend pointed to one whose suffering would 
 atone for much of my misery. Edna, I withhold nothing : 
 there is much I might conceal, but I scorn to do so. During 
 one terribly fatal winter, scarlet-fever had deprived Mr. 
 Hammond of four children, leaving him an only daughter- 
 Annie — the image of her brother Murray. Her health was 
 feeble ; consumption was stretching its skeleton hands 
 toward her, and her father watched her as a gardener tends 
 his pet — choice — delicate exotic. She was about sixteen, very 
 pretty, very attractive. • After Murray's death, I never 
 spoke to Mr. Hammond, never crossed his path ; but I met 
 his daughter without his knowledge, and finally I made 
 her confess her love for me. I offered her my hand ; she ac- 
 cepted it. A day was app Dinted for an elopement and 
 marriage ; the hour came : she left the parsonage, but I did 
 not meet her here on the steps of this church as I had pro- 
 raised, and she received a note, full of scorn and derision,. 
 explaining the revengeful motives that had actuated me> 
 
S16 ST. ELMO. 
 
 Two hours later, her father found her insensible on the 
 steps, and the marble was dripping with a hemorrhage of 
 blood from her lungs. The dark stain is still there ; you 
 must have noticed it. I never saw her again. She kept 
 her room from that day, and died three months after. 
 When on her death-bed she sent for me, but I refused to 
 obey the summons. As I stand here, I see through the 
 window the gray, granite vault OA r ergrown with ivy, and 
 the marble slab where sleep in untimely death Murray and 
 Annie Hammond, the victims of my insatiable revenge. Do 
 you wonder that I doubted you when you said that afflicted 
 father, Allan Hammond, had never uttered one unkind word 
 about me ?" 
 
 Mr. Murray pointed to a quiet corner of the church-yard, 
 but Edna did not lift her face, and he heard the half- 
 smothered, shuddering moan that struggled up as she list- 
 ened to him. 
 
 He put his hand on hers, but she shivered and shrunk 
 away from him. 
 
 " Years passed. I grew more and more savage ; the very 
 power of loving seemed to have died out in my nature. 
 My mother endeavored to drag me into society, but I was 
 surfeited, sick of the world — sick of my own excesses ; and 
 gradually I became a recluse, a surly misanthrope. How 
 often have I laughed bitterly over those words of Mill's : 
 ' Yet, nothing is more certain than that improvement in 
 human affairs is wholly the work of the uncontented charac- 
 ters !' My indescribable, my tormenting discontent, daily 
 belied his aphorism. My mother is a woman of stern in- 
 tegrity of character, and sincerity of purpose ; but she is 
 worldly and ambitious and inordinately proud, and for her 
 religion I had lost all respect. Again I went abroad, solely 
 to kill time; was absent two years and came back. I 
 had ransacked the world, and was disgusted, hopeless, 
 prematurely old. A week after my return I was attacked 
 by a very malignant fever, and my life was despaired of, 
 
ST. ELMO. 3L7 
 
 bat I exulted in the thought that at last I should fin 1 obli 
 vion. I refused all remedies and set at defiance all medical 
 advice, hoping to hasten the end ; but death cheated me. I 
 rose from my bed of sickness, cursing the mockery, realizing 
 that indeed : 
 
 The good die first, 
 
 And they whose hearts are dry as summer dust 
 Burn to the socket/ 
 
 Some months after my recovery, while I was out on a 
 camp-hunt, you were brought to Le Bocage, and the sight 
 of you made me more vindictive than ever. I believed you 
 selfishly designing, and I could not bear that you should 
 remain under the same roof with me. I hated children as I 
 hated men and women. But that day when you defied me 
 in the park, and told me I was sinful and cruel, I began to 
 notice you closely. I weighed your words, watched you 
 when you little dreamed that I was present, and often con- 
 cealed myself in order to listen to your conversation. I 
 saw in your character traits that annoyed me, because they 
 were noble, and unlike what I had believed all womanhood 
 or girlhood to be. I was aware that you dreaded and dis- 
 liked me ; I saw that very clearly, every time I had occasion 
 to speak to you. How it all came to pass I can not tell — I 
 know not — and it has always been a mystery even to me ; 
 but Edna, after the long lapse of years of sin and reckless 
 dissipation, my heart stirred and turned to you, child 
 though you were, and a strange, strange, invincible love for 
 you sprang from the bitter ashes of a dead affection for 
 Agnes Hunt. I wondered at myself; I sneered at my 
 idiotcy ; I cursed my mad folly, and tried to believe you as 
 unprincipled as I had found others ; but the singular fasci- 
 nation strengthened day by day. Finally I determined to 
 tempt you, hoping that your duplicity and deceit would 
 wake me from the second dream into which I feared there 
 was danger of my falling. Thinking that at your age curi- 
 osity was the strongest emotion, I carefully arranged the 
 
318 ST. ELMO. 
 
 interior of the Taj Mahal, so that it would be impossible foi 
 you to open it without being discovered ; and putting the 
 key in your hands, I went abroad. I wanted to satisfy my- 
 self that you were unworthy, and believed you would betray 
 the trust. For four years I wandered, restless, impatient, 
 scorning myself more and more because I could not forget 
 your sweet, pure, haunting face; because, despite my jeers, 
 I knew that I loved you. At last I wrote to my mother 
 from Egypt that I would go to Central Persia, and so I in- 
 tended. But one night as I sat alone, smoking amid the 
 ruins of the propylon at Philse, a vision of Le Bocage rose 
 before me, and your dear face looked at me from the lotus- 
 crowned columns of the ancient temple. I forgot the 
 hate I bore all mankind ; I forgot every thing but you ; 
 your pure, calm, magnificent eyes ; and the longing to see 
 you, my darling — the yearning to look into your eyes once 
 more, took possession of me. I sat there till the great, 
 golden, dewless dawn of the desert fell upon Egypt, and 
 then came a struggle long and desperate. I laughed and 
 swore at my folly ; but far down in the abysses of my dis- 
 torted nature hope had kindled a little feeble, flickering ray. 
 I tried to smother it, but its flame clung t to some crevice in 
 my heart, and would not be crushed. While I debated, a 
 pigeon that dwelt somewhere in the crumbling temple flut- 
 tered down at my feet, cooed softly, looked in my face, then 
 perched on a mutilated, red granite sphinx immediately in 
 front of me, and after a moment rose, circled above me in the 
 pure, rainless air and flew westward. I accepted it as an 
 omen, and started to America instead of to Persia. On the 
 night of the tenth of December, four years after I bade you 
 good-by at the park gate, I was again at Le Bocage. — 
 Silently and undiscovered I stole into my own house, and 
 secreted myself behind the curtains in the library. I had 
 been there one hour when you and Gordon Leigh came in 
 to examine the Targum. O Edna ! how little you dreamed 
 of the eager, hungry eyes that watched you ! During that 
 
ST. ELMO. 319 
 
 hour that you two sat there bencUr.g over the same look, I 
 became thoroughly convinced that while I loved you as I 
 never expected to love any one, Gordon loved you also, and 
 intended if possible to make you his wife. I contrasted my 
 worn, haggard face and grayish locks with his, so full of 
 manly hope and youthful beauty, and I could not doubt 
 that any girl would prefer him to me. Edna, my retribution 
 began then. I felt that my devil was mocking me, as I had 
 long mocked others, and made me love you when it was 
 impossible to win you. Then and there I was tempted to 
 spring upon and throttle you both before he triumphantly 
 called you his. At last Leigh left, and I escaped to my 
 own rooms. I was pacing the floor when I heard you cross 
 the rotunda, and saw the glimmer of the light you carried. 
 Hoping to see you open the little Taj, I crawled behind the 
 sarcophagus that holds my two mummies, crouched close to 
 the floor, and peeped at you across the gilded byssus that 
 covered them. My eyes, I have often been told, possess 
 magnetic or mesmeric power. At all ev r ents, you felt my 
 eager gaze, you were restless, and searched the room to 
 discover whence that feeling of a human presence came. 
 Darling, were you superstitious, that you avoided looking 
 into the dark corner where the mummies lay? Presently 
 you stopped in front of the little tomb, and swept away the 
 spider-web, and took the key from your pocket, and as you 
 put it into the lock I almost shouted aloud in my savage 
 triumph ! I absolutely panted to find Leigh's future wife 
 as unworthy of confidence as I believed the remainder of 
 her sex. But you did not open it. You merely drove 
 away the spider and rubbed the marble clean with your 
 handkerchief, and held the key between your fingers. Then 
 my heart seemed to stand still, as I watched the light 
 streaming over your beautiful, holy face and warm crimson 
 dress ; and when you put the key in your pocket and turned 
 away, my groan almost betrayed me. I had taken out my 
 thatch to see the hour, and in my suspense I clutched it so 
 
320 & T - ELMO. 
 
 tightly that the gold case and the crystal within a,l crushed 
 in my hand. You heard the tingling sound and wondered 
 whence it came ; and when you had locked the door and 
 gone, I raised one of the windows and swung myself down 
 to the terrace. Do you remember that night ?" 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Murray." 
 
 Her voice was tremulous and almost inaudible. 
 
 " I had business in Tennessee, no matter now, what, or 
 where, and I went on that night. After a week I returned, 
 that afternoon when I found you reading in my sitting-room. 
 Still I was sceptical, and not until I opened the tomb, was 
 I convinced that you had not betrayed the trust which you 
 supposed I placed in you. Then as you stood beside me, in 
 all your noble purity and touching girlish beauty — as you 
 looked up half reproachfully, half defiantly at me — it cost 
 me a terrible effort to master myself — to abstain from clasp- 
 ing you to my heart, and telling you all that you were to 
 me. Oh ! how I longed to take you in my arms, and feed 
 my poor famished heart with one touch of your bps ! I 
 dared not look at you, lest I should lose my self-control. 
 The belief that Gordon was a successful rival sealed my 
 lips on that occasion; and ah! the dreary wretchedness of 
 the days of suspense that followed. I was a starving beg- 
 gar who stood before what I coveted above every thing else 
 on earth, and saw it labelled with another man's name 
 and beyond my reach. The daily sight of that emerald ring 
 on your finger maddened me ; and you can form no ade- 
 quate idea of the bitterness of feeling with which I noted 
 my mother's earnest efforts and manoeuvres to secure for 
 Gordon Leigh — to sell to him — the little hand which her 
 own son would have given Worlds to claim in the sight of 
 God and man ! Continually I watched you when you least 
 suspected me ; I strewed infidel books where I knew you 
 must see them; I tempted you more than you dreamed of; 
 I teased and tormented and wounded you whenever an op- 
 portunity offered ; for I hoped to find some flaw in youi 
 
ST. ELMO. 321 
 
 character, some defect in your tempei, some inconsistency 
 between your professions and your practice. I knew Leigh 
 was not your equal, and I said bitterly, ' She is poor and 
 unknown, and will surely marry him for his money, for hia 
 position — as Agnes would have married me.' But you did 
 not ! and when I knew that you had positively refused his 
 fortune, I felt that a great dazzling light had broken sud- 
 denly upon my darkened life ; and, for the first time, since I 
 parted with Murray Hammond, tears of joy filled my eyes. 
 I ceased to struggle against my love — I gave myself up to 
 it, and only asked, How can I overcome her aversion to 
 me ? You were the only tie that linked me with my race, 
 and for your sake I almost felt as if I could forget my hate. 
 But you shrank more and more from me, and my punish- 
 ment overtook me when I saw how you hated Clinton Alls- 
 ton's blood-besmeared hands, and with what unfeigned 
 horror you regarded his career. When you declared so 
 vehemently that his fingers should never touch yours — oh ! 
 it was the fearful apprehension of losing you that made me 
 3atch your dear hands and press them to my aching heart. 1 
 was stretched upon a rack that taught me the full import of 
 Isaac Taylor's grim words, ' Remorse is man's dread prero- 
 gative ! ' Believing that you knew all my history and that 
 "our aversion was based upon it, I was too proud to show 
 •> T i my affection. Douglass Manning was as much my 
 mend as I permitted any man to be ; we had travelled to- 
 gether through Arabia, and with his handwriting I was 
 familiar. Suspecting your literary schemes, and dreading 
 a rival in your ambition, I wrote to him on the subject, dis- 
 covered all I wished to ascertain, and requested him, for my 
 sake to reconsider, and examine your ms. He did so to 
 oblige me, and I insisted that he should treat your letters 
 and your ms. with such severity as to utterly crush your 
 literary aspirations. O child ! do you see how entirely 
 you fill my mind and heart? How I scrutinize your words 
 and actions ? O my darling — — " 
 
§22 ST. ELMO. 
 
 He patsed and leaned over her, putting his hand on her 
 head, but she shook off his touch and exclaimed : 
 
 " But Gertrude ! Gertrude ! " 
 
 " Be patient, and you shall know all ; for as God re.gns 
 above us, there is no recess of my heart into which you 
 shall not look. It is, perhaps, needless to tell you that 
 Estelle came here to marry me for my fortune. It is not 
 agreeable to say such things of one's own cousin, but 
 to-day I deal only in truths, and facts sustain me. She 
 professes to love me ! has absolutely avowed it more than 
 once in days gone by. Whether she really loves any thing 
 but wealth and luxury, I have never troubled myself to 
 find out ; but my mother fancies that if Estelle were my 
 wife, I might be less cynicaL Once or twice I tried to be 
 affectionate toward her, solely to see what effect it would 
 have upon you ; but I discovered that you could not easily 
 be deceived in that direction — the mask was too trans- 
 parent, and besides, the game disgusted me. I have no 
 respect for Estelle, but I have a shadowy traditional rev- 
 erence for the blood in her veins, which forbids my flirting 
 with her as she deserves. The very devil himself brought 
 Agnes here. She had married a rich old banker only a 
 few months after Murray's death, and 'lived in ease and 
 splendor until a short time since, when her husband failed 
 and died, leaving her without a cent. She knew how utterly 
 she had blasted my life, and imagined that I had never 
 married because I still loved her ! With unparalleled ef- 
 frontery she came here, and trusting to her wonderfully pre- 
 served beauty, threw herself and her daughter in my way. 
 When I heard she was at the parsonage, all the old burn- 
 ing hate leaped up strong as ever. I fancied that she was 
 the real cause of your dislike to me, and that night, when 
 the game of billiards ended, I went to the parsonage for 
 the first time since Murray's death. Oh ! the ghostly 
 thronging memories that met me at the gate, trooped after 
 me up the walk, and hovered like vultures as I stood in the 
 
ST. ELMO. 323 
 
 shadow of the trees, where my idol and I had chatted and 
 romped and shouted and whistled in the far past, in the 
 sinless bygone! Unobserved I stood there, and looked 
 once more, after the lapse of twenty years, on the face that 
 had caused my crime and ruin. I listened to her clear 
 laugh, silvery as when I heard it chiming with Murray's 
 under the apple-tree on .the night that branded me, and 
 drove me forth to wander like Cain ; and I resolved, if she 
 really loved her daughter, to make her suffer for all that 
 she had inflicted on me. The first time I met Gertrude 1 
 could have sworn my boyhood's love was restored to me ; 
 she is so entirely the image of what Agnes was. To possess 
 themselves of my home and property is all that brought 
 them here ; and whether as my wife or as my mother-in-law 
 I think Agnes cares little. The first she sees is impractica- 
 ble, and now to make me wed Gertrude is her aim. Like 
 mother, like daughter ! " 
 
 " Oh ! no, no ! visit not her mother's sins on her innocent 
 head ! Gertrude is true and affectionate, and she loves you 
 dearly." 
 
 Edna spoke with a great effort, and the strange tones of 
 her own voice frightened her. 
 
 " Loves me ? Ha, ha ! just about as tenderly as her 
 mother did before her ! That they do both ' dearly love ' — 
 my heavy purse, I grant you. Hear me out. Agnes threw 
 file girl constantly and adroitly in my way ; the demon 
 here in my heart prompted revenge, and, above all, I re- 
 solved to find out whether you were indeed as utterly 
 indifferent to me as you seemed. I know that jealousy 
 will make a woman betray her affection sooner than any 
 other cause, and I deliberately set myself to work to make 
 you believe that I loved that pretty cheat over yonder at 
 the parsonage — that frolicsome wa^-doll, who would rather 
 play with a kitten than talk to Cicero ; who intercepts me 
 almost daily, to favor me with manifestations of devotion, 
 and shows me continually that I have only to put out my 
 
324 ST. ELMO. 
 
 hand and take her to rule over ray house, and trample my 
 heart under her pretty feet ! When you gave me that note 
 of hers a week ago, and looked so calmly, so coolly in my 
 face, I felt as if all hope were dying in my heart ; for I 
 could not believe that, if you had one atom of affection foi 
 me, you could be so generous, so unselfish, toward one 
 whom you considered your rival. That night I did not 
 close my eyes, and had almost decided to revisit South- 
 America ; but next morning my mother told me you were 
 going to New- York — that all entreaties had failed to shake 
 your resolution. Then once more a hope cheered me, and 
 I believed that I understood why you had determined to 
 leave those whom I know you love tenderly — to quit the 
 home my mother offered you and struggle among strangers. 
 Yesterday they told me you would leave on Monday, and I 
 went out to seek you ; but you were with Mr. Hammond, 
 as usual, and instead of you I met — that curse of my life — ■ 
 Agnes ! Face to face, at last, with my red-lipped Lamia ! 
 Oh ! it was a scene that made jubilee down in Pandemonium ! 
 She plead for her child's happiness — ha, ha, ha ! — implored 
 me most pathetically to love her Gertrude as well as Ger- 
 trude loved me, and that my happiness would make me 
 forget the unfortunate past ! She would willingly give me 
 her daughter, for did she not know how deep, how lasting, 
 how deathless was my affection? I had Gertrude's whole 
 heart, and I was too generous to trifle with her tender 
 
 love ! Edna, darling ! I will not tell you all she said— 
 
 you would blush for your sisterhood. But my vengeance 
 was complete when I declined the honor she was so 
 eager to force upon me, when I overwhelmed her with my 
 scorn, and told her that there was only one woman whom 
 I respected or trusted, only one woman upon the broad 
 earth whom I loved, only one woman who could ever be 
 my wife, and her name was — Edna Earl !" 
 
 His voice died away, and all was still as the dead in thea 
 grassy graves. 
 
ST. ELMO. 325 
 
 The orphan's face was concealed, and after a moment St 
 Elmo Murray opened his arms, and said in that low win- 
 ning tone which so many women had found it impossible 
 to resist: "Come to me now, my pure, noble Edna. You 
 whom I love, as only such a man as I have shown myself to 
 be can love." 
 
 " No, Mr. Murray ; Gertrude stands between us." 
 
 " Gertrude ! Do not make me swear here, in your pres- 
 ence — do not madden me by repeating her name ! I tell 
 you she is a silly child, who cares no more for me than her 
 mother did before her. Nothing shall stand between us. 
 I love you ; the God above us is my witness that I love 
 you as I never loved any human being, and I will not — I 
 swear I will not live without you ! You are mine, and all 
 the legions in hell shall not part us !" 
 
 He stooped, snatched her from the chair as if she had 
 been an infant, and folded her in his strong arms. 
 
 " Mr. Murray, I know she loves you. My poor little 
 trusting friend ! You trifled with her warm heart, as yoi- 
 hope to trifle with mine ; but I know you ; you have shown 
 me how utterly heartless, remorseless, unprincipled you 
 are. You had no right to punish Gertrude for her mother's 
 sins ; and if you had one spark of honor in your nature, you 
 would marry her, and try to atone for the injury you have 
 already done." 
 
 " By pretending to give her a heart wmich belongs en- 
 tirely to you ? If I wished to deceive you now, think you 
 I would have told all that hideous past, which you can not 
 abhor one half as much as I do ?" 
 
 " Your heart is not mine ! It belongs to sin, or you could 
 not have so maliciously deceived poor Gertrude. You love 
 nothing but your ignoble revenge and the gratification oi 
 your self-love ! You' " 
 
 " Take care, do not rouse me. Be reasonable, little dar- 
 ling. You doubt my love ? Well, I ought not to wonder 
 at your scepticism after all you have heard. But you can 
 
826 ST. ELMO. 
 
 feel how my heart throbs against your cheek, and if you 
 will look into my eyes, you will be convinced that I am 
 fearfully in earnest, when I beg you to be my wife to- 
 morrow — to-day — now ! if you will only let me send for a 
 minister or a magistrate ! You are " 
 
 " You asked Anme to be your wife, and " 
 
 " Hush ! hush ! Look at me. Edna, raise your head and 
 look at me." 
 
 She tried to break away, and finding it impossible, press- 
 ed both hands over her face and hid it against his shoulder. 
 
 He laughed and whispered : 
 
 " My darlings I know what that means. You dare not 
 look up because you can not trust your own eyes ! Because 
 you dread for me to see something there, which you want 
 to hide, which you think it your duty to conceal." 
 
 He felt a long shudder creep over her, and she answered 
 resolutely : 
 
 " Do you think, sir, that I could love a murderer ? A 
 man whose hands are red with the blood of the son of my 
 best friend ?" 
 
 " Look at me then." 
 
 He raised her head, drew down her hands, took then* 
 firmly in one of his, and placing the other under her chin, 
 lifted the burning face close to his own. 
 
 She dreaded the power of his lustrous, mesmeric eyes, 
 and instantly her long silky lashes swept her flushed cheeks. 
 
 " Ah ! you dare not ! You can not look me steadily in 
 the eye and say, ' St. Elmo, I never have loved — do not 
 — and never can love you !' You are too truthful ; your 
 lips can not dissemble. I know you do not want to love 
 me. Your reason, your conscience forbid it ; you are 
 struggling to crush your heart. You think it your duty to 
 despise and hate me. But, my own Edna — my darling ! 
 my darling ! you do love me ! You know you do love me, 
 though you will not confess it ! My proud darling !" 
 
 He drew the face tenderly to his own, and kissed tier 
 
ST. Mjumo. 327 
 
 qalvcving lips repeatedly; and at last a moan of anguish 
 told how she was wrestling with her heart. 
 
 " Do you think you can hide your love from my eagei 
 eyes ? Oh ! I know that I am unworthy of you ! I fee it 
 more and more every day, every hour. It is because yon 
 seem so noble — so holy — to my eyes, that I reverence wh ile 
 I love you. You are so far above all other women — so 
 glorified in your pure consistent piety— that you only have 
 the power to make my future life — redeem the wretched 
 and sinful past. I tempted, and tried you, and when you 
 proved so true and honest and womanly, you kindled a 
 faint beam of hope that, after all, there might be truth and 
 saving, purifying power in religion. Do you know that 
 since this church was finished I have never entered it until 
 a month ago, when I followed you here, and crouched 
 down-stairs — yonder behind one of the pillars, and heard 
 your sacred songs, your hymns so full of grandeur, so ft: 1 ' 
 of pathos, that I could not keep back my tears while I lis- 
 tened ? Since then I have come every Satui'day afternoon, 
 and during the hour spent here my unholy nature was 
 touched and softened as no sermon ever touched it. Oh '. 
 you wield a power over me — over all my future ! which 
 ought to make you tremble ! The first generous impulse 
 that has stirred my callous bitter soul since I was a boy, 
 I owe to you. I went first to see poor Reed, in order to 
 discover what took you so often to that cheerless place ; 
 and my interest in little Huldah arose from the fact that 
 you loved the child. O my darling ! I know I have been 
 sinful and cruel and blasphemous ; but it is not too late for 
 me to atone ! It is not too late for me to do some good in 
 the world; and if you will only love me, and trust me, 
 and help me " 
 
 His voice faltered, his tears fell upon her forehead, and 
 stooping he kissed her lips softly, reverently, as if he real- 
 ized the presence of something sacred. 
 
 " My precious Edna, no oath shall ever soil my lips 
 
328 ST. ELMO. 
 
 again ; the touch of yours has purified them. I have heen 
 mad — I think, for many, rLi.*ny years, and I loathe my past 
 life ; but remember how so- •■ T was tried, and be mercifu 
 when you judge me. With your dear little hand in mine, 
 to lead me, I will make amends for the ruin and suffering 
 I have wrought, and my Edna — my own wife shall save 
 me!" 
 
 Before the orphan's mental vision rose the picture of 
 Gertrude, the trembling coral mouth, the childish wistful 
 eyes, the lovely head nestled down so often and so loving- 
 ly on her shoulder ; and she saw too the bent figure and 
 white locks of her beloved pastor, as he sat in his old age, 
 in his childless desolate home, facing the graves of his mur- 
 dered children. 
 
 " O Mr. Murray ! You can not atone ! You can not 
 call your victims from their tombs. You can not undo 
 what you have done.! What amends can you make to Mr. 
 Hammond, and to my poor litti. j confiding Gertrude? I 
 can not help you ! I can not save you !" 
 
 " Hush ! You can, you shall ! Do you think I will ever 
 give you up ? Have mercy on my lonely life ! my wretch- 
 ed darkened soul. Lean your dear head here on my heart, and 
 say, ' St. Elmo, what a wife can do' to save her erring, 
 sinful husband, I will do for you.' If I am ever to be 
 Baved, you, you only can effect my redemption ; for I trust, 
 I reverence you. Edna as you value my soul, my eternal 
 welfare, give yourself to me ! Give your pure sinless life 
 to purify mine." 
 
 With a sudden bound she sprang from his embrace, and 
 lifted her arms toward the Christ, who seemed to shudder 
 as the flickering light of fading day fell through waving 
 foliage upon it. 
 
 "Look yonder to Jesus, weeping, bleeding! Only his 
 blood and tears can wash away your guilt. Mr. Murray, I 
 can never be your wife. I have no confidence in you, 
 Knowing how systematically you have deceived others, 
 
ST. ELMO. 329 
 
 how devoid of conscientious scruples you are I should 
 never be sure that I too was not the victim of your heart- 
 less machinations. Beside, I " 
 
 " Hush ! hush ! To your keeping I commit my con- 
 science and my heart." 
 
 "No! no! lam no vicegerent of an outraged and in- 
 sulted God ! I put no faith in any man, whose consc ; ence 
 another keeps. From the species of fascination v-hu^a you 
 exert, I shrink with unconquerable dread and aversion, and 
 would almost as soon entertain the thought of marrying 
 Lucifer himself. Oh ! your perYerted nature shocks, re- 
 pels, astonishes, grieves me. I can Thither respect nor trust 
 you. Mr. Murray, have mercy uf m yourself! Go yonder 
 to Jesus. He only can save ar..'< purify you." 
 
 " Edna, you do not, you can not intend to leave m? ? 
 Darling " 
 
 He held out his arms and moved toward her, but she 
 sprang past him, down the steps of the gallery, out of the 
 church, and paused only at sight of the dark, dull spot on 
 the white steps, where Annie Hammond had lain insen- 
 sible. 
 
 An hour later, St. Elmo Murray raised his face from the 
 mahogany railing where it had rested since Edna left him, 
 and looked around the noble pile, which his munificence 
 had erected. A full moon eyed him pityingly through the 
 stained glass, and the gleam of the marble pulpit was chill 
 and ghostly ; and in that weird light the Christ was 
 threatening, wrathful, appalling. 
 
 As St. Elmo stood there alone, confronting the picture — 
 confronting the past — memory, like the Witch of Endor, 
 called up visions of the departed that were more terrible 
 than the mantled form of Israel's prophet ; and trie proud, 
 hopeless' man bowed his haughty head, with a cry of an- 
 guish that rose mournfully to the vaulted ceiling of the 
 sanctuary : 
 
 " It went up single, echolees, ' My God ! I am forsaken V " 
 
CHAPTER XXin. 
 
 5^g||HE weather was so inclement on the following 
 day that no service was held in the church ; but, 
 notwithstanding the heavy rain, Edna went to the 
 parsonage to bid adieu to her pastor and teache-. 
 When she ascended the steps Mr. Hammond was walking 
 up and down the portico, with his hands clasped behind 
 him, as was his habit when engrossed by earnest thought ; 
 and he greeted his pupil with a degree of mournful tender- 
 ness very soothing to her sad heart. 
 
 Leading the way to his study, where Mrs. Powell sat 
 with an open book on her lap, he said gently : 
 
 " Agnes, will you be so kind as to leave us for a while ? 
 This is the last interview I shail have with Edna for a long 
 time, perhaps forever, and tL?re are some things I wish to 
 say to her alone. You wili fh> 1 a better light iu the din- 
 ing-room, where all is quiet." 
 
 As Mrs. Powell withdrew he locked the door, and for 
 some seconds paced the floor; then taking a seat on the 
 chintz-covered lounge beside his pupil, he said, eagerly: 
 
 " St. Elmo was at the church yesterday afternoon. Are 
 you willing to tell me what passed between you ?" 
 
 " Mr. Hammond, he told me his melancholy history. I 
 know all now — know why he shrinks from meeting you, 
 whom he has injured so cruelly; know all his guilt and 
 your desolation." 
 
 The old man bowed his white head on his bosom, and 
 
ST. ELMO. 33] 
 
 there was a painful silence. When he spoke, his voice waa 
 scarcely audible. 
 
 " The punishment of Eli has fallen heavily upon me, and 
 there have been hours when I thought that it was greater 
 than I could bear — that it would utterly crush me ; but 
 the bitterness of the curse has passsed away, and I can say 
 truly of that ' meekest angel of God,' the Angel of Pa- 
 tience : 
 
 ' He walks with thee, that angel kind, 
 
 And gently whispers, Be resigned : 
 
 Bear np, bear on : the end shall tell, 
 
 The dear Lord ordereth all things well 1 ' 
 
 *' I tried to train up my children in the fear and admo- 
 nition of the Lord ; but I must have failed signally in my 
 duty, though I have never been able to discover in what 
 respect I was negligent. One of the sins of my life was my 
 inordinate pride in my only boy — my gifted, gifted, hand- 
 some son. My love for Murray was almost idolatrous ; and 
 when my heart throbbed with proudest hopes and aspira- 
 tions, my idol was broken and laid low in the dust ; and, 
 like David mourning for his rebellious child Absalom, I 
 cried out in my affliction, 'My son! my son ! would God 
 I had died for thee !' Murray Hammond was my precious 
 diadem of earthly glory ; and suddenly I found myself un- 
 crowned, and sackcloth and ashes were my portion." 
 
 " Why did you never confide these sorrows to me ? Did 
 you doubt my earnest sympathy ?" 
 
 "No, my child; but I thought it best that St. Elmo 
 should lift the veil and show you all that he wished you to 
 know. I felt assured that the time would come when he 
 considered it due to himself to acquaint you with his sad 
 history ; and when I saw him go into the church yesterday 
 I knew that the hour had arrived. I did not wish to preju- 
 dice you against him ; for I believed that through your 
 agency the prayers of twenty vears would be answered, 
 and that his wandering, embittered heart would follow you 
 
g32 ST. ELMO. 
 
 to that cross before which he bowed in his bcyhood. Edna, 
 it was through my son's sin and duplicity that St. Elmo's 
 noble career was blasted, and his most admirable character 
 perverted; and I have hoped and believed that through 
 your influence, my beloved pupil, he would be redeemed 
 from his reckless course. My dear little Edna, you are very 
 lovely and winning, and I believed he would love you as he 
 never loved any one else. Oh ! I have hoped every thing 
 from your influence ! Far, far beyond all computation is 
 the good which a pious, consistent, Christian wife can ac- 
 complish in the heart of a husband who truly loves her." 
 
 " O Mr. Hammond ! you pain and astonish me. Surely 
 you would not be willing to see me marry a man who scoffs 
 at the very name of religion ; who wilfully deceives and 
 trifles with the feelings of all who are sufficiently cred- 
 ulous to trust his hollow professions — whose hands are red 
 with the blood of your children ! What hope of happiness 
 or peace could you indulge for me, in view of such a union ? 
 I should merit all the wretchedness that would inevitably 
 be my life-long portion if, knowing his crimes, I could con 
 sent to link my future with hife." 
 
 " He would not deceive you, my child ! If you knew him 
 as well as I do, if you could realize all that he was before 
 his tender, loving heart was stabbed by the two whom he 
 almost adored, you would judge him more leniently, 
 Edna, if I whom he has robbed of all that made life beauti- 
 ful — if I, standing here in my lonely old age, in sight of the 
 graves of my murdered darlings — if I can forgive him, and 
 pray for him, and, as God is my witness, love him ! you 
 have no right to visit my injuries and my sorrows upon 
 him !" 
 
 Edna looked in amazement at his troubled earnest coun 
 tenance, and exclaimed. 
 
 " Oh ! if he knew all your noble charity, your unparal- 
 leled magnanimity, surely, surely, your influence would be 
 his salvation ! His stubborn bitter heart would be melted. 
 
ST. ELMO. 333 
 
 But, sir, 1 should have a right to expect Annie's sad fate if 
 I could forget her sufferings and her wrongs." 
 
 Mr. Hammond rose and walked to the window, and 
 after a time, when he resumed his seat, his eyes were full 
 of tears, and his wrinkled face was strangely pallid. 
 
 "My darling Annie, my sweet fragile flower, my pre- 
 cious little daughter, so like her sainted mother ! Ah ! it is 
 not surprising that she could not resist his fascinations. 
 But, Edna, he never loved my pet lamb. Do you know 
 that you have become almost as dear to me as my own 
 dead child ? She deceived me ! she was willing to forsake 
 her father in his old age ; but through long years you have 
 never once betrayed my perfect confidence." 
 
 The old man put his thin hand on the orphan's head and 
 turned the countenance toward him. 
 
 "My dear little girl, you will not think me impertinently 
 curious when I ask you a question, which my sincere affec- 
 tion for and interest in you certainly sanctions ? Do you 
 love St. Elmo ?" 
 
 "Mr. Hammond, it is not love ; for esteem, respect, con- 
 fidence belong to love : but I can not deny that he exerts a 
 very singular, a wicked fascination over me. I dread his evil 
 influence, I avoid his presence, and know that he is utterly 
 unworthy of any woman's trust ; and yet — and yet — O 
 sir ! I feel that I am very weak, and I fear that I am 
 unwomanly ; but I can not despise, I can not hate him as 
 I ought to do !" 
 
 "Is not this feeling, on your part, one of the causes that 
 hurries you away to New York ?" 
 
 " That is certainly one of the reasons why I am anxious 
 to go as early as possible. O Mr. Hammond ! much as I 
 love, much as I owe you and Mrs. Murray, I sometimes 
 wish that. I had never come here ! Never seen Le Bocage 
 and the mocking, jeering demon who owns it !" 
 
 " Try to believe that somehow in the mysterious Divine 
 sconorny it is all for the best. In reviewing the appar* 
 
334 ST. ELMO. 
 
 eutly accidental circumstances that placed you among us, I 
 have thought that, because this was your appointed field of 
 labor, God in his wisdom brought you where he designed 
 you to work. Does Mrs. Murray know that her son haa 
 offered to make you his wife ?" 
 
 " No ! no ! I hope she never will ; for it would mortify 
 her exceedingly to know that he could be willing to give 
 his proud name to one of whose lineage she is so ignorant. 
 How did you know it ?" 
 
 "I knew what his errand must be when he forced him- 
 self to visit a spot so fraught with painful memories as my 
 church. Edna, I shall not urge you ; but ponder well the 
 step you are taking ; for St. Elmo's future will be colored 
 by your decision. I have an abiding and comforting faith 
 that he will yet lift himself out of the abyss of sinful dissi- 
 pation and scofiing scepticism, and your hand would aid him 
 as none other human can." 
 
 " Mr. Hammond it seems incredible that you can plead 
 for him. Oh ! do not tempt me ! Do not make me believe 
 that I could restore his purity of faith and life. Do not tell 
 me that it would be right to give my hand to a blasphem- 
 ous murderer? Oh! my own heart is weak enough already! 
 I know that I am right in my estimate of his unsciTipulous 
 character, and I am neither so vain nor so blind as to 
 imagine that my feeble efforts could accomplish for him, 
 what all your noble magnanimity and patient endeavors 
 have entirely failed to effect. If he can obstinately resist 
 the influence of your life, he would laugh mine to scorn. 
 It is hard enough for me to leave him, when I feel that 
 duty demands it. O my dear Mr. Hammond ! do not at- 
 tempt to take from me that only staff which can carry me 
 firmly away — do not make my trial even more severe. 
 I must not see his face ; for I will not be his wife. Instead 
 of weakening my resolution by holding out flattering hopes 
 of reforming him, pray for me ! oh ! pray for me ! that I 
 :nay be strengthened to flee from a great temptation ! I 
 
ST. ELMO. 335 
 
 will marry no man who is not an earnest, humble believer 
 in the religion of our Lord Jesus Christ. Rather than be- 
 come the wife of a sacrilegious scofler, such as I know Mr. 
 Murray to be, I will, so help me God ! live and work alone, 
 and go down to my grave Edna Earl I" 
 
 The minister sighed heavily. 
 
 " Bear one thing in mind. It has been said, that in dis- 
 avowing guardianship, we sometimes slaughter Abel. You 
 can not understand my interest in St. Elmo ? Remember 
 that if his wretched soul is lost at last, it will be required 
 at the hands of my son, in that dread day — Dies Irce ! Dies 
 Ilia ! — when we shall all stand at the final judgment ! Do 
 you wonder that I struggle in prayer, and in all possible 
 human endeavor to rescue him from ruin ; so that when I 
 am called from earth, I can meet the spirit of my only son 
 with the blessed tidings that the soul he jeoparded, and 
 well-nigh wrecked, has been redeemed ! is safe ! anchored 
 once more in the faith of Christ ? But I will say no more. 
 Tour own heart and conscience must guide you in this mat- 
 ter. It would pour a flood of glorious sunshine upon my 
 sad and anxious heart, as I go down to my grave, if I could 
 know that you, whose life and character I have in great de- 
 gree moulded, were instrumental in saving one whom I 
 have loved so long, so well, and under such afflicting cir- 
 cumstances, as my poor St. Elmo." 
 
 " To the mercy of his Maker, and the intercession of his 
 Saviour, I commit him. 
 
 ' As for me, I go my own way, onward, upward !' " 
 
 A short silence ensued, and at last Edna rose to say good« 
 bye. 
 
 * Do you still intend to leave at four o'clock in the morn- 
 iiig ? I fear you wih have bad weather for your journey." 
 
 "Yes, sir, I shall certainly start to-morrow. And now, 
 I must leave you. O my best friend ! how can I tell you 
 good-bye !" 
 
 The minister folded her in his trembling arms, and his 
 
S36 8T ELMO. 
 
 silver locks mingled with her black hair, while he solemnly 
 blessed her. She sobbed as he pressed his lips to her fore 
 head, and gently put her from him ; and turning, she hur- 
 ried away, anxious to escape the sight of Gertrude's accus- 
 ing face; for she supposed that Mrs. Powell had repeated 
 to her daughter Mr. Murray's taunting words. 
 
 Since the previous evening she had not spoken to St. 
 Elmo, who did not appear at breakfast ; and when she pass- 
 ed him in the hall an hour later, he was talking to his moth- 
 er, and took no notice of her bow. 
 
 Now as the carriage approached the house, she glanced 
 n the direction of his apartments, and saw him sitting at 
 the window, with his elbow resting on the sill, and his 
 cheek on his hand. 
 
 She went at once to Mrs. Murray, and the interview was 
 long and painful. The latter wept freely, and insisted that 
 if the orphan grew weary of teaching, (as she knew would 
 happen,) she should come back immediately to Le Bocage ; 
 where a home would always be hers, and to which a true 
 friend would welcome her. 
 
 At length, when Estelle Harding came in with some let- 
 ters, which she wished to submit to her aunt's inspection, 
 Edna retreated to her own quiet room. She went to her 
 bureau to complete the packing of her clothes, and found 
 on the marble slab a box and note directed to her. 
 
 Mr. Murray's handwriting was remarkably elegant, and 
 Edna broke the seal which bore his motto, Nemo me in*- 
 pwie lacessit. 
 
 "Edna. I send for your examination the contents of 
 the little tomb, which you guarded so faithfully. Read 
 the letters written before I was betrayed. The locket at 
 tached to a ribbon was always worn over my heart, and 
 the miniatures which it contains, are those of Agnes Hunt 
 and Murray Hammond. Read all the record, and then 
 judge me, as you hope to be judged. I sit alone, amid the 
 
st S.LMO. 337 
 
 mouldering, blackened ruins of my youth ; will you not lis- 
 ten to the prayer of my heart, and the half-smothered plead- 
 ings of your own, and come to me in my desolation, and help 
 me to build up a new and noble life ? O my darling ! 
 you can make me what you will. While you read and pon- 
 der, I am praying ! Aye, praying for the first time in twen- 
 ty years ! praying that if God ever hears prayer, He will in- 
 fluence your decision, and bring you to me. Edna, my dar 
 ling ! I wait for you. 
 
 " Your own St. Elmo." 
 
 Ah ! how her tortured heart writhed and bled ; how pit- 
 eously it pleaded for him, and for itself ! 
 
 Edna opened the locket, and if Gertrude had stepped into 
 the golden frame, the likeness could not have been more 
 startling. She looked at it until her lips blanched and were 
 tightly compressed, and the memory of Gertrude became 
 paramount. Murray Hammond's face she "barely glanced 
 at, and its extraordinary beauty stared at her like that of 
 eonie avenging angel. With a shudder she put it away, 
 and turned to the letters which St. Elmo had written to 
 Agnes and to Murray, in the early, happy days of his en- 
 gagement. 
 
 Tender, beautiful, loving letters, that breathed the most 
 devoted attachment and the purest piety ; letters that were 
 full of lofty aspirations, and religious fervor, and generous 
 schemes for the assistance and enlightenment of the poor 
 about Le Bocage ; and especially for " my noble, matchless 
 Murray." Among the papers were several designs for 
 charitable buildings ; a house of industry, an asylum foi 
 the blind, and a free school-house. In an exquisite ivory 
 casket, containing a splendid set of diamonds, and the costly 
 betrothal ring, bearing the initials, Edna found a sheet o± 
 paper, around which the blazing necklace was twisted. 
 Disengaging it, she saw that it was a narration of all that, 
 had stung him to desperation, on the night of the murder. 
 
338 ST. ELMO. 
 
 As she read the burning taunts, the insults the ridicule 
 heaped by the two under the apple-tree upon the fond, faith- 
 ful, generous, absent friend, she felt the indignant blood 
 gush into her face ; but she read on and on, and two hours 
 elapsed ere she finished the package. Then came a trial, a 
 long, fierce, agonizing trial, such as few women have ever 
 been called upon to pass through ; such as the world be- 
 lieves no woman ever triumphantly endured. Girded by 
 prayer, the girl went down resolutely into the flames of the 
 furnace, and the ordeal was terrible indeed. But as often 
 as Love showed her the figure of Mr. Murray, alone in his 
 dreary sitting-room, waiting, watching for her, she turned 
 and asked of Duty, the portrait of Gertrude's sweet, anx- 
 ious, face ; the picture of dying Annie ; the mournful coun- 
 tenance of a nun, shut up by iron bars from God's beautiful 
 world, from the home and the family who had fondly cher- 
 ished her in her happy girlhood, ere St. Elmo trailed his 
 poison across her sunny path. 
 
 After another hour, the orphan went to her desk, and 
 while she wrote, a pale, cold rigidity settled upon her fea- 
 tures, which told that she was calmly, deliberately shaking 
 hands with the expelled, the departing Hagar of her heart's 
 hope and happiness. 
 
 " To the mercy of God, and the love of Christ, and the 
 judgment of your own conscience, I commit you. Hence- 
 forth we walk different paths, and after to-night, it is my 
 wish that we meet no more on earth. Mr. Murray, I can 
 not lift up your darkened soul ; and you would only drag 
 mine down. For your final salvation, I shall never ceasa 
 to pray, till we stand face to face, before the Bar of God. 
 
 " Edna Eabl." 
 
 Ringing for a servant, she sent back the box, and e^en 
 his own note, which she longed to keep, but would not 
 trust herself to see again; and dreading reflection, and too 
 
ST. ELMO. 339 
 
 miserable to sleep, she went to Mrs. Murray's room, and 
 remained with her till three o'clock. 
 
 Then Mr. Murray's voice rang through the house, calling 
 for the carriage, and as Edna put on her bonnet and shawl, 
 be knocked at his mother's door. 
 
 " It is raining very hard, and you must not think of going 
 to the depot, as you intended." 
 
 " But, my son, the carriage is close and " 
 
 " I can not permit you to expose yourself so unnecessarily, 
 and, in short, I will not take you, so there is an end of it. 
 Of course I can stand the weather, and I will ride over with 
 Edna, and put her under the care of some one on the train. 
 As soon as possible send her down to the carriage. I will 
 order her trunks strapped on." 
 
 He was very pale and stern, and his voice rang coldly 
 clear as he turned and went down-stairs. 
 
 The parting was very painful, and Mrs. Murray followed 
 the orphan to the front-door. 
 
 " St. Elmo, I wish you would let me go. I do not mind 
 the rain." 
 
 " Impossible. Tou know I have an unconquerable horror 
 of scenes, and I do not at all fancy witnessing one that 
 threatens to last until the train leaves. Go up-stairs and 
 cry yourself to sleep in ten minutes; that will be much 
 more sensible. Come, Edna, are you ready ?" 
 
 The orphan was folded in a last embrace, and Mr. Murray 
 held out his hand, drew her from his mother's arms, and 
 taking his seat beside her in the carriage, ordered the coach- 
 man to drive on. 
 
 The night was very dark, the wind sobbed down the 
 avenue, and the rain fell in such torrents that as Edna 
 leaned out for a last look at the stately mansion, which she 
 had learned to love so well, she could only discern the out- 
 line of the bronze monsters by the glimmer of the light 
 burning in the hall. She shrank far back in one corner, 
 and her lingers clutched each other convulsively ; but when 
 
340 S T - ELMO. 
 
 they had passed through the gate and entered the main 
 road Mr. Murray's hand was laid on hers — the cold fingera 
 were unlocked gently but firmly, and raised to his lips. 
 
 She made an effort to withdraw them, but found it useless, 
 and the trial which she had fancied was at an end seemed 
 only beginning. 
 
 " Edna this is the last time I shall ever speak to you of 
 myself; the last time I shall ever allude to all that has 
 passed. Is it entirely useless for me to ask you to re- 
 consider ? If you have no pity for me, have some mercy on 
 yourself. You can not know how I dread the thought of 
 your leaving me, and being roughly handled by a cold, sel- 
 fish, ruthless world. Oh ! it maddens me when I think of 
 your giving your precious life, which would so glorify my 
 home, and gladden my desolate heart, to a public, who will 
 trample upon you if possible, and, if it can not entirely crush 
 you, will only value you as you deserve, when, with ruined 
 health and withered hopes, you sink into the early grave 
 malice and envy have dug for you. Already your dear face 
 has grown pale, and your eyes have a restless, troubled 
 look, and shadows are gathering about your young, pure, 
 fresh spirit. My darling, you are not strong enough to 
 wrestle with the world ; you will be trodden down by the 
 ^masses in this conflict, upon which you enter so eagerly. 
 Do you not know that '•literati'' means literally the brand- 
 ed ? The lettered slave ! Oh ! if not for my sake, at least 
 for your own, reconsider before the hot irons sear your 
 brow; and hide it here, my love; keep it white and pure 
 and unfurrowed here, in the arms that will never weary of 
 sheltering and clasping you close and safe from the burning 
 brand of fame. Literati ! A bondage worse than Roman 
 slavery ! Help me to make a proper use of my fortune, and 
 you will do more real good to your race than by all you 
 can ever accomplish with your pen, no matter how success- 
 ful it may prove. If you were selfish and heartless as other 
 women, adulation and celebrity and the praise of the public 
 
8T. ELMO. 3^1 
 
 might satisfy you. But you are not, and I tuve studied 
 your nature too thoroughly to mistake the result of your 
 ambitious career. My darling, ambition is the mirage ol 
 the literary desert you are anxious to traverse ; it is the 
 Bahr Sheitan, the Satan's water, which will ever recede and 
 mock your thirsty, toil-spent soul. Dear little pilgrim, do 
 not scorch your feet and wear out your life in the hot, 
 blinding sands, struggling in vain for the constantly fading, 
 vanishing oasis of happy literary celebrity. Ah ! the Sahara 
 of letters is full of bleaching bones that tell where many of 
 your sex as well as of mine^fell and perished miserably, 
 even before the noon of life. ^Ambitious spirit, come, rest in 
 peace in the cool, quiet, happy, palm-grove that I offer you. 
 My shrinking violet, sweeter than all Psestum boasts ! You 
 can not cope successfully with the world of selfish men and 
 frivolous, heartless women, of whom you know absolutely 
 nothing. To-day I found a passage which you had marked 
 in one of my books, and it echoes ceaselessly in my heart : 
 
 "' My future will not copy fair my past." 
 
 I wrote that once ; and thinking at my side 
 My ministering life-angel justified 
 The word by his appealing look upcast 
 To the white throne of Q-od, I turned at last, 
 And there instead saw thee, not unallied 
 To angels in thy soul ! . . Then I, long tried 
 By natural ills, received the comfort fast ; 
 While budding at thy sight, my pilgrim's staff 
 Gave out green leaves with morning dews impearled. 
 I seek no copy now of life's first half: 
 Leave here the pages with long musing curled, 
 And write me new my future's epigraph. 
 New angel mine — unhoped-for in the world 1' " 
 
 He had passed his arm around her and drawn her close 
 to his side, and the pleading tenderness of his low voice was 
 indeed hard to resist. 
 
 " No, Mr. Murray, my decision is unalterable. If you do 
 really love me, spare me, spare me, further entreaty. Before 
 
342 ST. ELMO. 
 
 we part there are some things I should like to say, and I 
 have little time left. Will you hear me ?" 
 
 He did not answer, hut tightened his arm, drew her head 
 to his hosom, and leaned his face down on hers. 
 
 "Mr Murray, I want to leave my Bible with you, he- 
 cause there are many passages marked which would greatly 
 comfort and help you. It is the most precious thing I pos- 
 sess, for Grandpa gave it to me when I was a little girl, and 
 I could not hear to leave it with any one hut you. I have 
 it here in my hand ; will you look into it sometimes if I give 
 it to you ?" 
 
 He merely put out his hand arid took it from her. 
 
 She paused a few seconds, and as he remained silent, she 
 continued : 
 
 "Mr. Hammond is the best friend you have on earth. 
 Yesterday, having seen you enter the church and suspect- 
 ing what passed, he spoke to me of you, and oh ! he pleaded 
 for you as only he could ! He urged me not to judge you 
 too harshly ; not to leave you, and these were his words : 
 ' Edna, if I, whom he has robbed of all that made life beau- 
 tiful; if I, standing here alone in my old age, in sight of 
 the graves of my murdered darlings, if I can forgive him, 
 and pray for him, and, as God is my witness, love him ! you 
 have no right to visit my injuries and my sorrows upon 
 him ! ' Mr. Murray, he can help you, and he will, if you 
 will only permit him. If you could realize how deeply he 
 is interested in your happiness, you could not fail to rever- 
 ence that religion which enables him to triumph over all 
 the natural feelings of resentment. Mr. Murray, you have 
 declared again and again that you love me. Oh ! if it be 
 true, meet me in heaven ! I know that I am weak and sin- 
 ful ; but I am trying to correct the faults of my character, 1 
 am striving to do what I believe to be my duty, and I hope 
 at last to find a home with my God. O sir ! I am not so 
 entirely ambitious as you seem to consider me. Believe 
 me: 
 
ST. ELMO. 343 
 
 ' Better tlian glory's pomp will be 
 That green and blessed spot to mo- - 
 A palm-sbade in eternity.' 
 
 Foi several years, ever since you went abroad, I Lave been 
 praying for you ; and wbile I live I shall not cease to do so. 
 Oh ! will you not pray for yourself? Mr. Murray, I believe 
 I shall not be happy even in heaven if I do not see you 
 there. On earth we are parted — your crimes divide us ; but 
 there ! there ! Oh ! for my sake make an effort to redeem 
 yourself, and meet me there !" 
 
 She felt his strong frame tremble, and a heavy shudder- 
 ing sigh broke from his lips and swept across her cheek. 
 But when he spoke his words contained no hint of the prom- 
 ise she longed to receive : 
 
 " Edna, my shadow has fallen across your heart, and I 
 am not afraid that you will forget me. You will try to do 
 so, you will give me as little thought as possible ; you will 
 struggle to crush your aching heart, and endeavor to be 
 famous. But amid your ovations the memory of a lonely 
 man, who loves you infinitely better than all the world for 
 which you forsook him, will come like a breath from the 
 sepulchre, to wither your bays ; and my words, my plead- 
 ing words, will haunt you, rising above the paeans of your 
 public worshippers. When the laurel crown you covet now 
 shall become a chaplet of thorns piercing your temples, or a 
 band of iron that makes your brow ache, you will think 
 mournfully of the days gone by," when I prayed for the privi- 
 lege of resting your weary head here on my heart. You 
 can not forget me.. Sinful and all unworthy as I confess my- 
 self, I am conqueror, I triumph now, even though you never 
 permit me to look upon your face again ; for I believe I have 
 a place in my darling's heart which no other man, which 
 not the whole world can usurp or fill ! You are too proud 
 to acknowledge it, too truthful to deny it ; but, my pure 
 Pearl, my heart feels it as well as yours, and it is a comfort 
 of which all time can not rob me. Without it, how could I 
 
344 ST. ELMO. 
 
 face my future, so desolate, sombre, lonely? Oh I indeed 
 indeed : 
 
 ' My retribution is, that to the last 
 
 I have o'errated, too, my power to cope 
 With this fierce thought— that life must all be passed 
 
 Without life's hope.' 
 
 Edna, the hour has come when, in accordance with your' 
 own decree, we part. For twenty years no woman's lips, 
 except my mother's, have touched mine until yesterday, when 
 they pressed yours. Perhaps we may never meet again in 
 this world, and, ah ! do not shrink away from me, I want to 
 kiss you once more, my darling ! my darling ! I shall wear 
 it on my lips till death stiffens them ; and I am not at all 
 afraid that any other man will ever be allowed to touch 
 lips that belong to me alone ; that I have made, and here 
 seal, all my own ! Good-bye " 
 
 He strained her to him and pressed his lips twice to hers, 
 then the carnage stopped at the railroad station. 
 
 He handed her out, found a seat for her in the cars, which 
 had just arrived, arranged her wrappings comfortably, and 
 went back to attend to her trunks. She sat near an open 
 window, and though it rained, heavily, he buttoned his coat 
 to the throat, and stood just beneath it, with his eyes bent 
 down. Twice she pronounced his name, but he did not 
 seem to hear her, and Edna put her hand lightly on his 
 shoulder and said : 
 
 "Do not stand here in the rain. In a few minutes we 
 shall start, and I prefer that you should not wait. Please 
 go home at once, Mr. Murray." 
 
 He shook his head, but caught her hand and leaned his 
 cheek against the soft little palm, passing it gently and 
 caressingly over his haggard face. 
 
 The engine whistled ; Mr. Murray pressed a long, warm 
 kiss on the hand he had taken, the cars moved on ; and as 
 he lifted his hat, giving her one of his imperial, graceful 
 
ST. ELMO. 345 
 
 oows, Edna had a last glimpse of the dark, chiselled, lepul 
 sive yet handsome face that had thrown its baleful image 
 dee]» in her young heart, and defied all her efforts to expel 
 it. The wind howled around the cars, the rain fell heavily, 
 beating a dismal tattoo on the glass, the night was moarn- 
 fully dreary, and the orphan sank back and lowered hei 
 veil, and hid her face in her hands. 
 
 Henceforth she felt that in obedience to her own decision 
 and fiat' 
 
 " They stood aloof, the scars remaining 
 
 Like cliffs that had been rent asunder ; 
 
 A dreary sea now flows between ; 
 
 But neither heat nor frost nor thunder 
 
 Shall wholly do away, I ween, 
 
 The marks of that which once hath been." 
 
CHAPTER XXIY. 
 
 As day dawned the drab clouds blanched, broke up in 
 marbled masses, the rain ceased, the wind sang out of the 
 west, heralding the coming blue and gold, and at noon not 
 one pearly vapor sail dotted, the sky. During the aftei'- 
 noon Edna looked anxiously for the first glimpse of " Look- 
 out," but a trifling accident detained the train for several 
 hours, and it was almost twilight when she saw it, a pur- 
 ple spot staining the clear beryl horizon ; spreading rapid- 
 ly, shifting its Tyrian mantle for gray robes ; and at length 
 the rising moon silvered its rocky crest, as it towered in 
 silent majesty over the little village nestled at its base. 
 The kind and gentlemanly conductor on the cars accom- 
 panied Edna to the hotel, and gave her a parcel containing 
 several late papers. As she sat in her small room, weary 
 and yet sleepless, she tried to divert her thoughts by read- 
 ing the journals, and found in three of them notices of the 
 
 last number of Magazine, and especial mention of her 
 
 essay : " Keeping the Vigil of St. Martin under the Pines of 
 Griitli." 
 
 The extravagant laudations of this article surprised her, 
 and she saw that while much curiosity was indulged con- 
 cerning the authorship, one of the editors ventured to at- 
 tribute it to a celebrated and very able writer, whose ge- 
 nius and erudition had lifted him to an enviable eminence 
 in the world of American letters. The criticisms were ex 
 cessively flattering, and the young author, gratified at the 
 complete success that had crowned her efforts, cut out the 
 
ST. ELMO. ^47 
 
 friendly notices, intending to inclose them in ^ .tt.ter to 
 Mrs. Murray. 
 
 Unable to sleep, giving audience to memories of her early 
 childhood, she passed the night at her window, watching 
 the constellations go down behind the dark, frowning mass 
 of rock that lifted its parapets to the midnight sky, and in 
 the morning light saw the cold, misty cowl drawn over the 
 venerable hoary head. 
 
 The village had changed so materially that she could 
 scarcely recognize any of the old landmarks, and the peo- 
 ple who kept the hotel could tell her nothing about Peter 
 Wood, the miller. After breakfast she took a box contain- 
 ing some flowers packed in wet cotton, and walked out on 
 the road leading in the direction of the blacksmith's shop. 
 Very soon the trees became familiar, she remembered every 
 turn of the road and bend of the fences ; and at last the 
 grove of oak and chestnut shading the knoll at the intersec- 
 tion of the roads, met her eye. She looked for the forge 
 and bellows, for the anvil and slack-tub; but shop and shed 
 had fallen to decay, and only a heap of rubbish, overgrown 
 with rank weeds and vines, marked the spot where she had 
 spent so many happy hours. The glowing yellow chestnut 
 leaves dripped down at her feet, and the oaks tossed their 
 gnarled arms as if welcoming the wanderer whose head 
 they had shaded in infancy, and, stifling a moan, the orphan 
 hurried on. 
 
 She saw that the timber had been cut down, and fences 
 inclosed cultivated fields where forests had stood when she 
 went away. At a sudden bend in the narrow, irregular 
 road when she held her breath and leaned forward to see 
 the old house where she was born and reared, a sharp cry 
 of pah? escaped her. Not a vestige of the homestead re- 
 mained, save the rocky chimney, standing in memoriam in 
 the centre of a corn-field. She leaned against the low fence, 
 and tears trickled down her cheeks as memory rebuilt the 
 log-house, a^d placed the split -bottomed rocking-chair on 
 
8^8 ST. ELMO. 
 
 the porch in front, and filled it with the figure of a white- 
 haired old man, with his pipe in his hand and his I lurred 
 eyes staring at the moon. 
 
 Through the brown corn-stalks she could see the gaping 
 mouth of the well, now partially filled with rubbish ; and 
 the wreaths of scarlet cypress which once fringed the shed 
 above it and hung their flaming trumpets down tiL tney 
 almost touched her childish head, as she sang a4 the well 
 where she scoured the cedar piggin, were bereft of all sup- 
 port and trailed helplessly over the ground. Close to the 
 fence, and beyond the reach of plough and hoe, a yellow 
 four-o'clock with closed flowers marked the location of the 
 little garden ; and one tall larkspur leaned against the fence, 
 sole survivor of the blue pets that Edna had loved so well 
 in the early years. She put her fingers through a crevice, 
 broke the plumy spray, and as she pressed it to her face, 
 she dropped her head upon the rails, and gave herself up to 
 the flood of painful yet inexpressibly precious reminiscences. 
 
 How carefully she had worked and weeded this little 
 plat ; how proud she once was of her rosemary and pinks, 
 her double feathery poppies, her sweet-scented lemon-grass ; 
 how eagerly she had transplanted wood violets and purple 
 phlox: from the forest; how often she had sat on the steps 
 watching for her grandfather's return, and stringing those 
 four-o'clock blossoms into golden crowns for her own young 
 head ; and how gayly she had sometimes swung them over 
 Brindle's horns, when she went out to milk her. 
 
 " Ah ! sad and strange, as in dark summer dawns 
 The earliest pipe of half-awakened birds 
 To dying ears, when unto dying eyes 
 The casement slowly grows a glimmering square ; 
 So sad, so strange, the days that are no more." 
 
 With a sob she turned away and walked in the direction 
 of the burying-ground ; for there, certainly, she would find 
 all unchanged ; graves at least were permanent. 
 
ST. ELMO. 349 
 
 The little spring bubbled as of yore, t.;e lusli oiiepers 
 made a tangled tapestry around it, and crimson and blue 
 convolvulus swung their velvety dew-beaded chalices above 
 it, as on that June morning long ago when she stood there 
 filling her bucket, waiting for the sunrise. 
 
 She took off her gloves, knelt down beside the spring, 
 and dipping up the cold, sparkling water in her palms, 
 drank and wept, and drank again. She bathed her aching 
 eyes, and almost cheated herself into the belief that she 
 heard again Grip's fierce bark ringing through the woods, 
 and the slow, drowsy tinkle of Brinclle's bell. Turning 
 aside from the beaten track, she entered the thick grove of 
 chestnuts, and looked around for the grave of the Dents ; 
 but the mound had disappeared, and though she recognized 
 the particular tree which had formerly overhung it, and 
 searched the ground carefully, she could discover no trace 
 of the hillock where she had so often scattered flowers. A 
 squirrel leaped and frisked in the boughs above her, and 
 she startled a rabbit from the thick grass and fallen yellow 
 leaves ; but neither these, nor the twitter of gossiping ori- 
 oles, nor the harsh hungry cry of a blue-bird told her a syl- 
 lable of all that had transpired in her absence. 
 
 She conjectured that the bodies had probably been disin- 
 terred by friends, and removed to Georgia ; and she hurried 
 on toward the hillside, where the neighborhood graveyard 
 was situated. The rude, unpainted paling still inclosed it, 
 and rows of head-boards stretched away among grass and 
 weeds ; but whose was that shining marble shaft, standing 
 n the centre of a neatly arranged square, around which ran 
 a handsome iron railing ? On that very spot, in years gone 
 by, had stood a piece of pine board : " Sacred to the mem- 
 ory of Aaron Hunt, an honest blacksmith and true Christ- 
 ian." 
 
 Who had dared to disturb his bones, to violate his 1 ast 
 resting-place, and to steal his grave for the interment of 
 some wealthy stranger ? A cry of horror and astonishment 
 
850 ST. ELMO. 
 
 broke from the orphan's trembling lips, and she shaded cer 
 eyes with her hand, and tried to read the name inscribed 
 on the monument of the sacrilegious interloper. But bitter, 
 scalding tears of indignation blinded her. She dashed them 
 away, but they gathered and fell faster ; and, unbolting tho 
 gate, she entered the inclosure and stepped close io the 
 marble. 
 
 ERECTED 
 
 IN HONOR OF 
 
 AARON HUNT, 
 
 BY HIS DEVOTED GRANDDAUGHTER. 
 
 These gilded words were traced on the polished surface 
 of the pure white obelisk, and on each corner of the square 
 pedestal or base stood beautifully carved vases, from which 
 drooped glossy tendrils of ivy. 
 
 As Edna looked in amazement at the glittering shaft 
 which rose twenty-five feet in the autumn air ; as she rubbed 
 her eyes and re-read the golden inscription, and looked at 
 the sanded walks, and the well-trimmed evergreens, which 
 told that careful hands kept the lot in order, she sank down 
 at the base of the beautiful monument, and laid her hot 
 cheek on the cold marble. 
 
 " Grandpa, Grandpa ! He is not altogether wicked 
 and callous as we once thought him, or he could never have 
 done this ! Forgive your poor little Pearl, if she can not 
 help loving one who, for her sake, honors your dear name 
 and memory ! O Grandpa ! if I had never gone away 
 from here ! If I could have died before I saw him again ! 
 before this great anguish fell upon my heart !" 
 
 She knew now where St. Elmo Murray went that night, 
 after he had watched her from behind the sarcojhagus and 
 the mummies ; knew that only his hand could have erectec? 
 this noble pillar of record ; and most fully did she appre- 
 ciate the delicate feeling which made him so proudly reti 
 
ST. ELMO. S51 
 
 cent on this subject. He wished no element of gratitude 
 in the love he had endeavored to wh\ and scorned to take 
 advantage of her devoted affection for her grandfather, by 
 touching her heart with a knowledge of the tribute paid to 
 his memory. Until this moment she had sternly refused to 
 permit herself to believe all his protestations of love ; had 
 tried to think that he merely desired to make her acknow- 
 ledge his power, and confess an affection flattering to his 
 vanity. But to-day she felt that all he had avowed was 
 true ; that his proud, bitter heart was indeed entirely hers ; 
 and this assurance filled her own heart with a measureless 
 joy, a rapture that made her eyes sparkle through their 
 tears and brought a momentary glow to her cheeks. Hour 
 after hour passed ; she took no note of time, and sat there 
 pondering her past life, thinking how the dusty heart deep 
 under the marble would have throbbed with fond pride, if 
 it could only have known what the world said of her writ- 
 ings. That she should prove competent to teach the neigh- 
 bors' children, had been Aaron Hunt's loftiest ambition for 
 his darling ; and. now she was deemed worthy to speak to 
 her race, through the columns of a periodical that few wo- 
 men were considered able to fill. 
 
 She wondered if he were not really cognizant of it all ; 
 if he were not watching her struggles and her triumph ; 
 and she asked herself why he was not allowed, in token of 
 tender sympathy, to drop one palm-leaf on her head, from 
 the fadeless branch he waved in heaven? 
 
 " Oh ! how far, 
 How far and safe, God, dost thou keep thy saints 
 When once gone from us ! We may call agajnst 
 The lighted windows of thy fair June heaven 
 Where all the souls are happy ; and not one, 
 Not even my father, look from work or play, 
 To ask, ' Who is it that cries after us, 
 Below there, in the dark ? " 
 
 The shaft threw a long slanting shadow eastward as the 
 
352 ST. PLAtO. 
 
 orphan rose, and, taking from the box the fragrant exotica 
 which she had brought from Le Bocage, arranged them in 
 the damp soil of one of the vases, and twined their bright- 
 hued petals among the dark green ivy leaves. One shining 
 wreath she broke and laid away tenderly in the box, a hal- 
 lowed souvenir of the sacred spot where it grew ; and as 
 she stood there, looking at a garland of poppy-leaves chis- 
 elled around the inscription, neither flush nor tremor told 
 aught that passed in her mind, and her sculptured features 
 were calm, as the afternoon sun showed how pale and fixed 
 her face had grown. She climbed upon the broad base and 
 pressed her lips to her grandfather's name, and there was 
 a mournful sweetness in her. voice as she said aloud : 
 
 " Pray God to pardon him, Grandpa ! Pray Christ to 
 comfort and save his precious soul ! O Grandpa ! pray the 
 Holy Spirit to melt and sanctify his suffering heart !" 
 
 It was painful to quit the place. She lingered, and start- 
 ed away, and came back, and at last knelt down and hid 
 her face, and prayed long and silently. 
 
 Then turning quickly, she closed the iron gate, and with- 
 out trusting herself for another look, walked away. She 
 passed the spring and the homestead ruins, and finally 
 found herself in sight of the miller's house, which alone 
 seemed unchanged. As she lifted the latch of the gate and 
 entered the yard, it seemed but yesterday that she was 
 driven away to the depot in the miller's covered cart. 
 
 "(YM f "^f>q glimmered through the doors, 
 Old luotsteps trod the upper floors, 
 Old voices called her from without." 
 
 An ancient apple-tree, that she well remembered, stood 
 near the house, and the spreading branches were bent 
 almost to the earth with the weight of red- streaked apples, 
 round and ripe. The shaggy black dog, that so often frol- 
 icked with Grip in the days gone by, now lay on the step, 
 blinking at the sun and the flies that now and then buzzed 
 
8T. ELMO. 833 
 
 over the golden balsam, whose crims;.n seed gloived i the 
 evening sunshine. 
 
 Over the rocky well rose a rude arbor, where a scupper- 
 nong vine clambered and hung its rich, luscious brown clus- 
 ters ; and here, with a pipe between her lips, and at her 
 feet a basket full of red pepper-pods, which she was busily 
 engaged in stringing, sat an elderly woman. She was clad 
 in blue and yellow plaid homespun, and wore a white apron 
 and a snowy muslin cap, whose crimped ruffles pressed 
 caressingly the grizzled hair combed so smoothly over her 
 temples. Presently she laid her pipe down on the top of 
 the mossy well, where the dripping bucket sat, and lifted 
 the scarlet wreath of peppers, eyed it satisfactorily, and, 
 as she resumed her work, began to hum " Auld Lang Syne." 
 
 ' Should auld acquaintance be forgot, 
 And never brought to mind ? 
 Should auld acquaintance be forgot, 
 And days o' lang syne 1" 
 
 The countenance was so peaceful and earnest and honest, 
 that, as Edna stood watching it, a warm loving light came 
 into her own beautiful eyes, and she put out both hands 
 unconsciously, and stepped into the little arbor. 
 
 Her shadow fell upon the matronly face, and the woman 
 rose and courtesied. 
 
 " Good evening, miss. Will you be seated ? There is 
 room enough for two on my bench." 
 
 The orphan did not speak for a moment, but looked up 
 in the brown, wrinkled face, and then, pushing back her 
 bonnet and veil, she said eagerly : 
 
 " Mrs. Wood, don't you know me ?" 
 
 The miller's wife looked curiously at her visitor, glance 
 at her dress, and shook her head. 
 
 "No, miss; if ever I set my eyes on you before, it's more 
 than I remember, and Dorothy Wood has a powerful mem- 
 ory, they say, and seldom forgets faces." 
 
354 ST - elmo. 
 
 " Do you remember Aaron Hunt, and his daughtei Hes- 
 ter ?" 
 
 " To be sure I do ; but you an't neither the one nor the 
 other, I take it. Stop — let me see. Aha ! Tabitha, Willis, 
 you children, run here — quick ! But, no — it can't be ! 
 You can't be Edna Earl ?" 
 
 She shaded her eyes from the glare of the sun and stooped 
 forward, and looked searchingly at the stranger ; then the 
 coral wreath fell from her fingers, she stretched out her 
 arms, and the large mouth trembled and twitched. 
 
 " Are you — can you be — little Edna ? Aaron Hunt's 
 grandchild ?" 
 
 " I am the poor little Edna you took such tender care of 
 in her great afiiiction " 
 
 "Samson and the Philistines! Little Edna — so you are ! 
 What was I thinking about, that I didn't know you right 
 away? God bless your pretty white faee !" 
 
 She caught the orphan in her strong arms and kissed her, 
 and cried and laughed alternately. 
 
 A young girl, apparently about Edna's age, and a tall, 
 lank young man, with yellow hair full of meal-dust, came 
 out of the house, and looked on in stupid wonder. 
 
 " Why, children ! don't you know little Edna that lived 
 at Aaron Hunt's — his granddaughter ? This is my Tabitha 
 and my son Willis, that tends the mill and takes care of 
 us, now my poor Peter — God rest his soul! — is dead and 
 buried these three years. Bring some seats, Willis. Sit 
 down here by me, Edna, and take off your bonnet, child, 
 and let me see you. Umph ! umph ! Who'd have thought 
 it? What a powerful handsome woman you have made, to 
 be sure ! to be sure ! Well ! well ! The very saints up in 
 glory can't begin to tell what children will turn out ! Lean 
 your face this way. Why, you an't no more like that little 
 barefooted, tangle-haired, rosy-faced Edna that used to run 
 around these woods in striped homespun, hunting the cows, 
 than 1, Dorothy Elmira Wood, am like the Queen of Sheba 
 
ST, ELMO. 35J 
 
 when she went up visiting to Jerusalem to sail cti Solomon. 
 How wonderful pretty you are ! And how soft and white 
 youi hands are ! Now I look at you good I see you are 
 like your mother, Hester Earl ; and she was the loveliest, 
 mild little pink in the county. You are taller than your 
 mother, and prouder-looking ; but you have got her big, 
 soft, shining, black eyes ; and your mouth is sweet and sor- 
 rowful, and patient as hers always was, after your father 
 fell off that frosty roof and broke his neck. Little Edna 
 come back a fine, handsome woman, looking like a queen ! 
 But, honey, you don't seem healthy, like my Tabitha. See 
 what a bright red she has in her face. You are too pale ; 
 you look as if you had just been bled. An't you well, 
 child ?" 
 
 Mrs. Wood felt the girl's arms and shoulders, and found 
 them thinner than her standard of health demanded. 
 
 " I am very well, thank you, but tired from my journey, 
 and from walking all about the old place." 
 
 "And like enough you've cried a deal. Your eyes are 
 heavy. You know, honey, the old house burnt down one 
 blustry night in March, and so we sold the place ; for when 
 my old man died we were hard-pressed, we were, and a 
 man by the name of Simmons, he bought it and planted it 
 in corn. Edna, have you been to your Grandpa's grave ?" 
 
 " Yes ma'am, I was there a long time to-day." 
 
 " Oh ! an't it beautiful ! It would be a real comfort to 
 die, if folks knew such lovely gravestones would cover 'em. 
 I think your Grandpa's grave is the prettiest place I ever 
 saw, and I wonder, sometimes, what Aaron Hunt would 
 say if he could rise out of his coffin and see what is over 
 him. Poor thing ! You haven't got over it yet, I see. I 
 thought we should have buried you, too, when he died ; for 
 never did I see a child grieve so." 
 
 "Mrs. Wood, who keeps the walks so clean, and the 
 evergreens so nicely cut?" 
 
 " My Willis, to be sure. The gentleman that came here 
 
356 -ST. ELMO. 
 
 and fixed every thing last December, paid Willis cue hun 
 dred dollars to attend to it, and keep the weeds down. He 
 said he might come back unexpectedly almost any time, 
 and that he did not want to see so much as a blade of grass 
 in the walks ; so you see Willis goes there every Saturday 
 and straightens up things. What is his name, and who is 
 he, any how ? Pie only told us he was a friend of yours, 
 and that his mother had adopted you." 
 
 " What sort of a looking person was he, Mrs. Wood ?" 
 " O child ! if he is so good to you, I ought not to say ; 
 but he was a powerful, grim-looking man, with fierce eyes 
 and a thick moustache, and hair almost pepper-and-salt ; 
 and bless your soul, honey ! his shoulders were as broad as 
 a barn-door. While he talked I didn't like his countenance, 
 it was dark like a pirate's, or one of those prowling, cattle- 
 thieves over in the coves. He asked a power of questions 
 about you and your Grandpa, and when I said you had no 
 kin on earth, that ever I heard of, he laughed, that is, he 
 showed his teeth, and said, ' So much the better! so much 
 the better !' What is his name ?" 
 
 " Mr. Murray, and he has been very kind to me." 
 "But, Edna, I thought you went to the factory to work ? 
 Do tell me how you fell into the hands of such rich peo- 
 ple?" 
 
 Edna briefly acquainted her with what had occurred dur- 
 ing her long absence, and informed her of her plans for the 
 future ; and while she listened Mrs. Wood lighted her 
 pipe, and resting her elbow on her knee, dropped her face 
 on her hands, and watched her visitor's countenance. 
 
 Finally she nodded to her daughter, saying : " Do you 
 hear that, Bitha ? She can write for the papers and get 
 paid for it ! And she is smart enough to teac'a ! Well ! 
 well ! that makes me say what I do say, and I stick to it, 
 where there's a will there's a way! and where there's no 
 hearty will, all the ways in ci'eation won't take folks to an 
 education ! Some children can't be kicked and kept down ; 
 
ST. ELMO. 357 
 
 spite of all the world tLey will nianagj to scuffle cp some- 
 how ; and then again, some can't be cuffed and coaxed and 
 dragged up by the ears ! Here's Edna, that always had a 
 hankering after books, and she has made something of her- 
 self; aud here's my girl, that I wanted to get book-learning, 
 and I slaved and I saved to send her to school, and sure 
 enough she has got no more use for reading, and knows as 
 little as her poor mother, who never had a chance to learn. 
 It is no earthly use to fly in the face of blood and nature ! 
 ' What is bred in the bone, won't come out in the flesh !' 
 Some are cut out for one thing, and some for another ! Je- 
 rusalem artichokes won't bear hops, and persimmons don't 
 grow on blackjacks !" 
 
 She put her brawny brown hand on Edna's forehead, and 
 smoothed the bands of hair, and sighed heavily. 
 
 " Mrs. Wood, I should like to see Brindle once more." 
 
 " Lord bless your soul, honey ! she has been dead these 
 three years ! Why, you forget cows don't hang on as long 
 as Methuselah, and Brindle was no yearling when we took 
 her. She mired down in the swamp, back of the mill-pond, 
 and before we could find her, she was dead. But her calt 
 is as pretty a young thing as ever you saw ; speckled all 
 over, most as thick as a guinea, and the children call her 
 ' Speckle.' Willis, step out and see if the heifer is in 
 sight. Edna, an't you going to stay with me to-night ?" 
 
 " Thank you, Mrs. Wood, I should like very much to do 
 so, but have not time, and must get back to Chattanooga be- 
 fore the train leaves, for I am obliged to go on to-night." 
 
 " Well, any how, lay off your bonnet and stay and let 
 me give you some supper, and then we will all go back with 
 you, that is, if you an't too proud to ride to town in our 
 cart ? We have got a new cart, but it is only a miller's 
 cart, and may be it won't suit your fine fashionable clothes." 
 
 " I shall be very glad to stay, and I only wish it was 
 the same old cart that took me to the depot, more than fiva 
 years ago. Please give me some water." 
 
358 9T. ELMO. 
 
 Mrs. Wood rolled up her sleeves, put away her pretty 
 peppers, and talking vigorously all the time, prepared some 
 refreshments for her guest. 
 
 A table was set under the apple-tree, a snowy cotton 
 cloth spread over it, and yellow butter, tempting as Go- 
 shen's, and a loaf of fresh bread, and honey amber-hued, 
 and buttermilk, and cider, and stewed pears, and a dish of 
 ripe red apples crowned the board. 
 
 The air was laden with the fragrance it stole in crossing 
 a hay-field beyond the road, the bees darted in and out of 
 their hives, and a peacock spread his iridescent feathers to 
 catch the level yellow rays of the setting sun, and from the 
 distant mill-pond came the gabble of geese, as the noisy fleet 
 breasted the ripples. 
 
 Speckle, who had been driven to the gate for Edna's 
 inspection, stood close to the paling, thrusting her pearly 
 horns through the cracks, and watching the party at the 
 table with her large, liquid, beautiful, earnest eyes ; and afar 
 off Lookout rose solemn and sombre. 
 
 " Edna, you eat nothing. What ails you, child ? They 
 say too much brain-work is not healthy, and I reckon you 
 study too hard. Better stay here with me, honey, and 
 run around the woods and get some red in your face, and 
 churn and spin and drink buttermilk,' and get plump, and 
 go chestnuting Avith my children. Goodness knows they 
 are strong enough and hearty enough, and too much study 
 will never make shads of them; for they won't work their 
 brains, even to learn the multiplication table. See here, 
 Edna, if you will stay awhile with me, I will give Speckle 
 to you." 
 
 " Thank you, dear Mrs. Wood, I wish I could ; but the 
 lady who engaged me to teach her children, wrote that I 
 was very much needed ; and, consequently, I must hurry on. 
 Speckle is a perfect little beauty, but I would not be so 
 selfish as to take her away from you." 
 
 Clouds began to gather in the south-west, and as the 
 
8T. ELMO. 859 
 
 covered cart was brought to the gate, a distant mutter of 
 thunder told that a storm was brewing. 
 
 Mrs. Wood and her two children accompanied the or- 
 phan, and as they drove through the wocds, myriads of fire- 
 flies starred the gloom. It was dark when they reached 
 the depot, and "Willis brought the trunks from the hotel, 
 and found seats for the party in the cars, which were rapid- 
 ly filling with passengers. Presently the down-train from 
 Knoxville came thundering in, and the usual rush and bus- 
 tle ensued. 
 
 Mrs. Wood gave the orphan a hearty kiss and warm em- 
 brace, and bidding her " Be sure to write soon, and say 
 how you are getting along !" the kind-hearted woman left 
 the cars, wiping her eyes with the corner of her apron. 
 
 At last the locomotive signaled that all was ready ; and 
 as the train moved on, Edna caught a glimpse of a form 
 standing under a lamp, leaning with folded arms against 
 the post — a form strangely like Mr. Murray's. She leaned 
 out and watched it till the cars swept round a curve, and 
 lamp and figure and depot vanished. How could he pos- 
 sibly be in Chattanooga ? The conjecture was absurd ; she 
 was the victim of some optical illusion. With a long, heavi- 
 ly-drawn sigh, she leaned against the window-frame and 
 looked at the dark mountain mass looming behind her ; and 
 after a time, when the storm drew nearer, she saw it only 
 now and then, as 
 
 " A vivid, vindictive, and serpentine flash 
 Gored the darkness, and shore it across with a gash." 
 
CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 N one of those brown-stone, palatial houses on 
 Fifth Avenue, which render the name of the 
 street a synonym for almost royal luxury and 
 magnificence, sat Mrs. Andrews's " new govern- 
 ess," a week after her arrival in New-York. Her reception 
 though cold and formal, had been punctiliously courteous ; 
 and a few days sufficed to give the stranger an accurate in- 
 sight into the characters and customs of the family with 
 whom she was now domesticated. 
 
 Though good-natured, intelligent, and charitable, Mrs. 
 Andrews was devoted to society, and gave to the demands 
 of fashion much of the time which had been better expend- 
 ed at home in training her children, and making her hearth- 
 stone rival the attractions of the club where Mr. Andrews 
 generally spent his leisure hours. She was much younger 
 than her husband, was handsome, gay, and ambitious, and the 
 polished hauteur of her bearing often reminded Edna of Mrs. 
 Murray ; while Mr. Andrews seemed immersed in business 
 during the day, and was rarely at home except at his meals 
 Felix, the eldest of the two children, was a peevish, spoil- 
 ed, exacting boy of twelve years of age, endowed with a 
 remarkably active intellect, but pitiably dwarfed in body 
 and hopelessly lame, in consequence of a deformed foot. 
 His sister Hattie was only eight years old, a bright, pretty, 
 affectionate girl, over whom Felix tyrannized unmercifully, 
 and who from earliest recollection had been accustomed to 
 yield both her rights and privileges to the fretful invalid. 
 
8T. ELMO. 3G^ 
 
 The room occupied by the governess was wmall but beau- 
 tifully furnished, and as it was situated in the fourth story, 
 the windows commanded a view of the trees in a neighbor- 
 ing parkland the waving outline of Long Island. 
 
 On the day of her arrival Mrs. Andrews entered into a 
 minute analysis of the characters of the children, indicated 
 the course which she wished pursued toward them, and, im 
 pressing upon Edna the grave responsibility of her position, 
 the mother gave her children to the stranger's guardian- 
 ship, and seemed to consider her maternal duties fully dis- 
 charged. 
 
 Edna soon ascertained that her predecessors had found 
 the path intolerably thorny, and abandoned it in conse- 
 quence of Felix's uncontrollable fits of sullenness and passion. 
 Tutors and governesses had quickly alternated, and as the 
 cripple finally declared he would not tolerate the former, 
 his mother resolved to humor his caprice in the choice of a 
 teacher. 
 
 Fortunately the boy was exceedingly fond of his books, 
 and as the physicians forbade the constant use of his eyes, 
 the governess was called on to read aloud at least one half 
 of the day. From eight o'clock in the morning till eight 
 at night the whole care of these children devolved on Edna ; 
 who ate, talked, rode with them, accompanied them wher- 
 ever their inclination led, and had not one quiet moment 
 from breakfast until her pupils went to sleep. Sometimes 
 Felix was restless and wakeful, and on such occasions he 
 insisted that his governess should come and read him to 
 sleep. 
 
 Notwithstanding the boy's imperious nature, he possessed 
 solue redeeming traits, and Edna soon beeame much attach- 
 ed to him ; while his affection for his new keeper astonished 
 and delighted his mother. 
 
 For a week after Edna's arrival, inclement weather pre- 
 vented the customary daily ride which contributed largely 
 to the happiness of the little cripple ; but one afternoon as 
 
362 ST. ELMO. 
 
 the three sat in the school-room, Felix threw his Latin gram 
 mar against the wall and exclaimed : 
 
 " I want to see the swans in Central Paik, and I mean to 
 go, even if it does rain ! Hattie, ring for Patrick to bring 
 the coupe round to the door. Miss Earl, don't you want 
 to go ?" 
 
 " Yes, for there is no longer any danger of rain, the sun 
 is shining beautifully ; and besides, I hope you will be more 
 amiable when you get into the open air." 
 
 She gave him his hat and crutches, took his gray shawl 
 on her arm, and they went down to the neat carriage drawn 
 by a handsome chestnut horse, and set apart for the use of 
 the children. 
 
 As they entered the park, Edna noticed that the boy's eyes 
 brightened, and that he looked eagerly at every passing face. 
 
 " Now, Hattie, you must watch on your side, and I will 
 keep a good lookout on mine. I wonder if she will come 
 this evening ?" 
 
 "For whom are you both looking?" asked the teacher. 
 
 " Oh ! for little Lila, Bro' Felix's sweetheart !" laughed 
 Hattie, glancing at him with a mischievous twinkle in her 
 bright eyes. 
 
 " No such thing ! Never had a sweetheart in my life ! 
 Don't be silly, Hattie ! mind your window, or I guess we 
 shan't see her." 
 
 "Well, any how, I heard Uncle Grey tell mamma that he 
 kissed his sweetheart's hand at the party, and I saw Bro 
 Felix kiss Lila's last week." 
 
 " I didn't, Miss Earl !" cried the cripple, reddening as ho 
 spoke. 
 
 " Oh ! he did, Miss Earl ! Stop pinching me, Bro' Felix. 
 My arm is all black and blue, now. There she is ! Look, 
 bere on my side ! Here is ' Red Ridinghood !' " 
 
 Edna saw a little girl clad in scarlet, and led by a grave, 
 middle-aged nurse, who was walking leisurely toward one 
 of the lakes. 
 
ST. ELMO 363 
 
 Felix put his head out of the window and cabled to the 
 woman 
 
 " Hannah, are you going to feed the swans ?" 
 
 " Good evening. Yes, Ave are going there now." 
 
 "Well, we will meet you there." 
 
 " What is the child's name ?" asked Edna. 
 
 " Lila Manning, and she is deaf and dumb. We talk to 
 her on our fingers." 
 
 They left the carriage, and approached the groups of 
 children gathered on the edge of the water, and at sight of 
 Felix, the little girl in scarlet sprang to meet him, moving 
 her slender fingers rapidly as she conversed with him. She 
 was an exceedingly lovely but fragile child, apparently 
 about Hattie's age ; and as Edna watched the changing ex- 
 pression of her delicate features, she turned to the nurse and 
 asked : 
 
 " Is she an orphan ?" 
 
 " Yes, miss ; but she will never find it out as long as her 
 uncle lives. He makes a great pet of her." 
 
 " What is his name, and where does he reside ?" 
 
 "Mr. Douglass G. Manning. He boards at ~No. — 
 Twenty-third street ; but he spends most of his time at the 
 office. No matter what time of night he comes home, he 
 never goes to his own room till he has looked at Lila, and 
 kissed her good-night. Master Felix, please don't untie her 
 hat, the wind will blow her hah all out of curl." 
 
 For some time the children were much amused in watch- 
 ing the swans, and when they expressed themselves willing 
 to resume their ride, an arrangement was made with Han- 
 nah to meet at the same place the ensuing day. They re- 
 turned to the carriage, and Felix said : 
 
 " Don't you think Lila is a little beauty ?" 
 
 " Yes, I quite agree with you. Do you know her uncle ?" 
 
 " No, and don't want to know him ; he is too cross and 
 sour. I have seen him walking sometimes with Lila, and 
 mamma has him at her parties and dinners ; but Hattie and 
 
364 ST - elmo. 
 
 I never see the company unless we peep, and, above all 
 things, I hate peeping ! It is ungenteel and vulgar ; only 
 poor people peep. Mr. Manning is an old bachelor, and 
 very crabbed, so my uncle Grey says. He is the editor of 
 
 the Magazine, that mamma declares she can't livo 
 
 without. Look ! look, Hattie ! There goes mamma this 
 minute ! Stop, Patrick ! Uncle Grey ! Uncle Grey ! hold 
 up, won't you, and let me see the new horses !" 
 
 An elegant phaeton, drawn by a pair of superb black 
 horses, drew up close to the coupe, and Mrs. Andrews and 
 her only brother, Mr. Grey Chilton, leaned forward and 
 spoke to the children ; while Mr. Chilton, who was driving, 
 teased Hattie by touching her head and shoulders with his 
 whip. 
 
 " Uncle Grey, I think the bays are the handsomest." 
 
 "Which proves you utterly incapable of judging horse- 
 flesh ; for these are the finest horses in the city. I presume 
 tins is Miss Earl, though nobody seems polite euough to in- 
 troduce us." 
 
 He raised his hat slightly, bowed, and drove on. 
 
 " Is this the first time you have met my uncle ?" asked 
 Felix. 
 
 " Yes. Does he live in the city ?" 
 
 " Why ! he lives with us ! Haven't you seen him about 
 the house ? You must have heard him romping around with 
 Hattie ; for they make noise enough to call in the police. I 
 think my uncle Grey is the handsomest man I ever saw, ex 
 cept Edwin Booth, when he plays ' Hamlet.' What do you 
 say ?" 
 
 " As I had barely a glimpse of your uncle, I formed no 
 opinion. Felix, button your coat and draw your shawl 
 over your shoulders ; it is getting cold." 
 
 When they reached home the children begged for some 
 music, and placing her hat on a chair, Edna sat down before 
 the piano, and played and sang ; while Felix stood leaning 
 on his crutches, gazing earnestly into the face of his teacher. 
 
FIT ELMO. 365 
 
 The song was Longfellow's " Rainy Day," and vvhen she 
 concluded it, the cripple laid his thin hand on hers and said : 
 
 " Sing the last verse again. I feel as if I should always 
 be a good boy, if you would only sing that for me every 
 day. ' Into each life some rain must fall !' Yes, lameuesa 
 fell into mine." 
 
 While she complied with his request, Edna watched his 
 Sallow face, and saw tears gather in the large, sad eyes, and 
 she felt that henceforth the boy's evil spirit could be exor- 
 cised. 
 
 "Miss Earl, we never had a governess at all like you. 
 They were old, and cross, and ugly, and didn't love to play 
 chess, and could not sing, and I hated them ! But I do like 
 you, and I will try to be good." 
 
 He rested his head against her arm, and she turned and 
 kissed his pale, broad forehead. 
 
 " Halloo, Felix ! flirting with your governess ? This is a 
 new phase of school life. You ought to feel quite honored, 
 Miss Earl, though upon my word I am sorry for you. The 
 excessive amiability of my nephew has driven not less than 
 six of your predecessors in confusion from the field, leaA'ing 
 him victorious. I warn you he is an incipient Turenne, 
 and the school-room is the Franche Comte of his cam- 
 paigns." 
 
 Mr. Chilton came up to the piano, and curiously scanned 
 Edna's face ; but taking her hat and veil, she rose and mov- 
 ed toward the door, saying : 
 
 " I am disposed to believe that he has been quite as much 
 sinned against as sinning. Come, children, it is time for your 
 tea." 
 
 From that nour her influence over the boy strengthened 
 so rapidly that before she had been a month in the house 
 he yielded implicit obedience to her wishes, and could not 
 bear for her to leave him, even for a moment. When more 
 than usually fretful, and inclined to tyrannize over Hattie, 
 or speak disrespectfully to his mother, a warning glance or 
 
866 ST. ELMO. 
 
 word from Edna, or the soft touch of her hat.d, would suf 
 fice to restrain the threatened outbreak. 
 
 Her days were passed in teaching, reading aloud, and 
 talking to the children ; and when released from her duties 
 she went invariably to her desk, devoting more than half 
 ©f the night to the completion of her ms. 
 
 As she took her meals with her pupils, she rarely saw the 
 other members of the household, and though Mr. Chilton 
 now and then sauntered into the school-room and frolicked 
 with Hattie, his visits were coldly received by the teacher ; 
 who met his attempts at conversation with very discourag- 
 ing monosyllabic replies. 
 
 His manners led her to suspect that the good-looking 
 lounger was as vain and heartless as he was frivolous, and 
 she felt no inclination to listen to his trifling, sans souci 
 chatter ; consequently when he thrust himself into her pres- 
 ence she either picked up a book or left him to be entertained 
 by the children. 
 
 One evening in November she sat in her own room pre- 
 paring to write, and pondering the probable fate of a sketch 
 which she had finished and dispatched two days before to 
 the office of the magazine. 
 
 The principal aim of the little tale was to portray the 
 horrors and sin of dueling, and she had written it with 
 great care ; but well aware of the vast, powerful current of 
 popular opinion that she was bravely stiiving to stem, and 
 fully conscious that it would subject her to severe animad- 
 version from those who defended the custom, she could not 
 divest herself of apprehension lest the article should be re- 
 jected. 
 
 The door-bell rang, and soon after a servant brought her 
 a card : " Mr. D. G. Manning. To see Miss Earl." 
 
 Flattered and frightened by a visit from one whose opin- 
 ions she valued so highly, Edna smoothed her hair, and with 
 trembling fingers changed her collar and cuffs, and wen* 
 
ST. ELMO. 367 
 
 down-stairs, feeling as if all the blood in her body were 
 beating a tattoo on the drum of her ears. 
 
 As she entered the library, into which he had been show ft, 
 (Mrs. Andrews having guests in the parlors,) Edna had an 
 opportunity of looking unobserved at this critical ogre, of 
 whom she stood in such profound awe. 
 
 Douglass Manning was forty years old, tall, and well 
 built ; wore slender, steel-rimmed spectacles which some- 
 what softened the light of his keen, cold, black eyes ; and 
 carried his slightly bald head with the haughty air of one 
 who habitually hurled his gauntlet in the teeth of public 
 opinion. 
 
 He stood looking up at a pair of bronze griffins that 
 crouched on the top of the rosewood book-case, and the 
 gaslight falling full on his face, showed his stern, massive 
 features, which, in their granitic cast, reminded Edna of 
 those of Egyptian Androsphinx — vast, serene, changeless. 
 
 There were no furrows on cheek or brow, no beard veiled 
 the lines and angles about the mouth, but as she marked 
 the chilling repose of the countenance, so indicative of con- 
 scious power and well-regulated strength, why did mem- 
 ory travel swiftly back among the " Stones of Venice," re- 
 peating the description of the hawthorn on Bourges Cathe- 
 dral ? "A perfect Niobe of May." Had this man petri- 
 fied in his youth before the steady stylus of Time left on his 
 features that subtle tracery which passing years engrave on 
 human faces? The motto of his magazine, Veritas sine 
 dementia, ruled his life, and, putting aside the lenses of 
 passion and prejudice, he coolly, quietly, relentlessly judged 
 men and women and their works ; neither loving nor hat- 
 ing, pitying nor despising his race ; looking neither to 
 right nor left ; laboring steadily as a thoroughly well- 
 balanced, a marvelously perfect intellectual automaton. 
 
 " Good evening, Mr. Manning. I am very glad to meet 
 you; for I fear my letters have very inadequately ex- 
 pressed my gratitude for your kindness." 
 
368 3T - elmo. 
 
 Her voice trembled slightly, and she put out her hai.d. 
 He turned, bowed, offered her a chair, and, as they seated 
 themselves, he examined her face as he would have searched 
 the title-page of some new book for an insight into its con- 
 tents. 
 
 " When did you reach New- York, Miss Earl ?" 
 
 " Six weeks ago." 
 
 " I was not aware that you were in the city, until I re- 
 ceived your note two days since. How long do you intend 
 to remain ?" 
 
 " Probably the rest of my life, if I find it possible to sup- 
 port myself comfortably." 
 
 " Is Mrs. Andrews an old friend ?" 
 
 " No, sir ; she was a stranger to me when I entered her 
 house as governess for her children." 
 
 " Miss Earl, you are much younger than I had supposed. 
 Your writings led me to imagine that you were at least 
 thirty, whereas I find you almost a child. "Will your duties 
 as governess conflict with your literary labors ?" 
 
 " No, sir. I shall continue to write." 
 
 " You appear to have acted upon my suggestion, to 
 abandon the idea of a book, and confine your attention to 
 short sketches." 
 
 " No, sir. I adhere to my original purpose, and am at 
 work upon the manuscript which you advised me to de- 
 stroy." 
 
 He fitted his glasses more firmly on his nose, and she 
 Baw the gleam of his strong white teeth, as a half smile 
 moved his lips." 
 
 " Miss Earl, my desk is very near a window, and, as I 
 was writing late last night, I noticed several large moths 
 beating against the glass which fortunately barred their 
 approach to the flame of the gas inside. Perhaps inexpe- 
 rience whispered that it was a cruel fate that shut them out; 
 but which heals soonest, disappointed curiosity or singed 
 wind's ?" 
 
ST. ELMO. 309 
 
 " Mr. Manning, why do you apprehend rr.oi e danger from 
 writing a book than from the preparation of migazine ar- 
 tides ?" 
 
 " Simply because the peril is inherent in the nature of the 
 book you contemplate. Unless I totally misunderstand your 
 views, you indulge in the rather extraordinary belief that 
 all works of fiction should be eminently didactic, and incul- 
 cate not only sound morality but scientific theories. Here- 
 in, permit me to say, you entirely misapprehend the spirit 
 of the age. People read novels merely to be amused, not 
 educated ; and they will not tolerate technicalities and ab- 
 stract speculation in lieu of exciting plots and melodramatic 
 denouements. Persons who desire to learn something of 
 astronomy, geology, chemistry, philology, etc., never think 
 of finding what they require in the pages of a novel, but 
 apply at once to the text-books of the respective sciences, 
 and would as soon hunt for a lover's sentimental dialogue 
 in Newton's 'Principia,' or spicy small-talk in Kant's 
 Critique,' as expect an epitome of modern science in a 
 work of fiction." 
 
 " But, sir, how many habitual novel-readers do you sup- 
 pose will educate themselves thoroughly from the text-books 
 to which you refer ?" 
 
 " A modicum, I grant you ; yet it is equally true that those 
 who merely read to be amused will not digest the scientific 
 dishes you set before them. On the contrary, far from ap- 
 preciating your charitable efforts to elevate and broaden 
 their range of vision, they will either sneer at the author's 
 pedantry, or skip over every passage that necessitates 
 thought to comprehend it, and rush on to the next page to 
 discover whether the heroine, Miss Imogene Arethusa Peno 
 lope Brown, wore blue or pink tarlatan to her first b all, 01 
 whether on the day of her elopement the indignant papa 
 succeeded in preventing the consummation of her felicity 
 with Mr. Belshazzar Algeimon Nebuchadnezzar Smith. I 
 neither magnify n«r dwarf, I merely state a simple fact." 
 
870 ST. ELMO. 
 
 "But, Mr. Manning, do you not regard the writers ol 
 each age as the custodians of its tastes, as well as its morals ?" 
 
 " Certainly not ; they simply reflect and do not mould 
 public taste. Shakespeare, Hogarth, Rabelais, portrayed 
 men and things as they found them ; not as they might, 
 could, would, or should have been. Was Sir Petei Lely 
 responsible for the style of dress worn by court beauties in 
 the reign of Charles II. ? He faithfully painted what passed 
 before him. Miss Earl, the objection I urge against the 
 novel you are preparing does not apply to magazine essays, 
 where an author may concentrate all the erudition he can 
 obtain and ventilate it unchallenged ; for review writers 
 now serve the public in much the same capacity that cup- 
 bearers did royalty in ancient days ; and they are expected 
 to taste strong liquors as well as sweet cordials and sour 
 light wines. Moreover, a certain haze of sanctity envelopes 
 the precints of ' Maga,' whence the incognito ' we ' thun- 
 ders with oracular power; for, nowithstanding the rapid 
 annihilation of all classic faith in modern times which per- 
 mits the conversion of Virgil's Avernus into a model oyster- 
 farm, the credulous public fondly cling to the myth that 
 editorial sanctums alone possess the sacred tripod of Delphi. 
 Curiosity is the best stimulant for public interest, and it 
 has become exceedingly difficult to conceal the authorship 
 of a book, while that of magazine articles can readily be 
 disguised. I repeat, the world of novel-readers constitute a 
 huge hippodrome, where, if you can succeed in amusing 
 your spectators or make them gasp in amazement at youi 
 rhetorical legerdemain, they will applaud vociferously, and 
 pet you, as they would a graceful danseuse, or a dexterous 
 acrobat, or a daring equestrian ; but if you attempt to edu- 
 cate or lecture them, you will either declaim to empty 
 benches or be hissed clown. They expect you to help them 
 kill time not improve it." 
 
 " Sir, is it not nobler to struggle against than to float ig- 
 nominiously with the tide of degenerate opinion?" 
 
ST. ELMO. 37j 
 
 ' 'Thai depends altogether on the earnest. ess c* y.)ir de 
 sire for martyrdom by drowning. I have seen stronger 
 swimmers than you go down, after desperate efforts to keep 
 their heads above water." 
 
 Edna folded her hands in her lap, and looked steadily 
 into the calm, cold eyes of the editor, then shook her head, 
 and answered : 
 
 "I shall not drown. At all events I will risk it. I 
 would rather sink in the effort than live without attempt- 
 ing it." 
 
 " When you require ointment for singed wings, I shall 
 have no sympathy with which to anoint them ; for, like 
 most of your sex, I see you mistake blind obstinacy for ra- 
 tional, heroic firmness. The next number of the magazine 
 will contain the contribution you sent me two days since ; 
 and, while I do not accept all your views, I think it by far 
 the best thing I have yet seen from your pen. It will, of 
 course, provoke controversy, but for that result I presume 
 you are prepared. Miss Earl, you are a stranger in New- 
 York, and if I can serve you in any way, I shall be glad to 
 do so." 
 
 " Thank you, Mr. Manning. I need some books which 1 
 am not able to purchase, and can not find in this house ; if 
 you can spare them temporarily from your library, you will 
 confer a great favor on me." 
 
 "Certainly. Have you a list of those which you re 
 quire ?" 
 
 "No sir, but " 
 
 "Here is a pencil and piece of paper; write dcwn the 
 titles, and I will have them sent to you in the morn.ng." 
 
 She turned to the table to prepare the catalogue, and all 
 the while Mr. Manning's keen eyes scanned her countenance, 
 dress, and figure. A half-smile once more stirred his grave 
 lips when she gave him the paper, over which he glanced 
 indifferently. 
 
 " Miss Earl, I fear you will regret your determination to 
 
372 ST. ELMO. 
 
 make literature a profession ; for your letters informed im 
 that you are poor ; and doubtless you remember the witti< 
 cism concerning the ' republic of letters which contained 
 not a sovereign.' Your friend, Mr. Murray, appreciated 
 the obstacles you are destined to encounter, and I am afraid 
 you will not find life in New- York as agreeable as it waf 
 under his roof." 
 
 " When did you hejx from him ?" 
 
 "I received a letter this morning." 
 
 " And you called to see me because he requested you tc 
 do so ?" 
 
 " I had determine d to come before his letter arrived." 
 
 He noticed the incredulous smile that flitted across her 
 face, and, after a moment's pause, he continued : 
 
 " I do not wish to discourage you, on the contrary, I sin- 
 cerely desire to aid you, but Mill has analyzed the subject 
 very ably in his \ Political Economy,' and declares that ' on 
 any rational calculation of chances in the existing competi- 
 tion, no writer can hope to gain a living by books ; and to 
 do so by magazines and reviews becomes daily more diffi- 
 cult.' " 
 
 " Yes, sir, that passage is not encouraging ; but I comfort 
 myself with another from the same book : ' In a national 01 
 universal point of view the labor of the savant or specula 
 tive thinker is as much a part of production, in the very 
 narrowest sense, as that of the inventor of a practical art. 
 The electro-magnetic telegraph was the wonderful and 
 most unexpected consequence of the experiments of Oersted, 
 and the mathematical investigations of Ampere ; and the 
 modern art of navigation is an unforeseen emanation from 
 the purely speculative and apparently merely curious in- 
 quiry, by the mathematicians of Alexandria, into the proper- 
 ties of three curves formed by the intersection of a plane 
 surface and a cone. ~No limit can be set to the importance, 
 even in a purely productive and material point of view, of 
 mere thought.' Sir, the economic law which regulates the 
 
ST. ELMO 373 
 
 wages of mechanics should operate correspondingly in the 
 realm of letters." 
 
 " Your memory is remarkably accurate." 
 
 " Not always, sir ; but when I put it on its honor, and 
 trust some special treasure to its guardianship, it rarely 
 proves treacherous." 
 
 " I think you can command better wages for your work 
 in New- York than anywhere else on this continent. You 
 have begun well ; permit me to say to you be careful, do 
 not write too rapidly, and do not despise adverse criticism. 
 If agreeable to you, I will call early next week and accom- 
 pany you to the public libraries, which contain much that 
 may interest you. I will send you a note as soon as 1 
 ascertain when I can command the requisite leisure ; and 
 should you need my services, I hope you will not hesitate 
 to claim them. Good evening, Miss Earl." 
 
 He bowed himself out of the library, and Edna went 
 back to her own room, thinking of the brief interview, and 
 confessing her disappointment in the conversation of this 
 most dreaded of critics. 
 
 " He is polished as an icicle, and quite as cold. He may 
 be very accurate and astute and profound, but certainly he 
 is not half so brilliant as " 
 
 She did not complete the parallel, but compressed her 
 lips, took iip her pen, and began to write. 
 
 On the following morning Mrs. Andrews came into the 
 school-room, and, after kissing her children, turned blandly 
 to the governess. 
 
 " Miss Earl, I believe Mr. Manning called upon you last 
 evening. "Where did you know him ?" 
 
 " I never saw him until yesterday, but we have corre- 
 sponded for some time." 
 
 " Indeed ! you are quite honored. He is considered very 
 fastidious." 
 
 " He is certainly hypercritical, yet I have found him kind 
 <md gentlemanly, even courteous. Our correspondence in 
 
374 ST. ELMO. ~ 
 
 entirely attributable to the fact that I write for h.s maga 
 zine." 
 
 Mrs. Andrews dropped her ivory crochet-needle and sat, 
 for a moment, the picture of wide-eyed amazement. 
 
 "Is it possible! I had no idea you were an author. Why 
 did you not tell me before ? What have you written ?" 
 
 Edna mentioned the titles of her published articles, and 
 the lady of the house exclaimed : 
 
 " Oh ! that ' Vigil at Grtitli ' is one of the most beautiful 
 things I ever read, and I have often teased Mr. Manning to 
 tell me who wrote it. That apostrophe to the Thirty Con- 
 federates is so mournfully grand that it brings tears to my 
 eyes. Why, Miss Earl, you will be famous some day ! If 
 I had your genius, I should never think of plodding through 
 life as a governess." 
 
 " But, my dear madam, I must make my bread, and am 
 compelled to teach while I write." 
 
 " I do not see what time you have for writing. I notice 
 you never leave the children till they are asleep ; and you 
 must sleep enough to keep yourself alive. Are you writing 
 any thing at present ?" 
 
 " I finished an article several days ago which will be pub- 
 lished in the next number of the magazine. Of course I 
 have no leisure during the day, but I work till late at night." 
 
 "Miss Earl, if you have no objection to acquainting me 
 with your history, I should like very much to know some- 
 thing of your early life and education." 
 
 While Edna gave a brief account of her childhood, Felix 
 nestled his hand into hers, and laid his head on her knee, 
 listening eagerly to every word. 
 
 When she concluded, Mrs. Andrews mused a moment, 
 and then said : 
 
 " Ilenceforth, Miss Earl, you will occupy a different posi- 
 tion in my house; and I shall take pleasure in introducing 
 you to such of my friends as will appreciate your + alent. I 
 hope you will not confine yourself exclusively to my child 
 
ST. ELMO. 375 
 
 ren, but come down sometimes in the evening and sit with 
 me ; and, moreover, I prefer that you snould dine with us, 
 instead of with these nursery folks, who are not quite sapa- 
 ble of appreciating you " 
 
 "How do you know that, mamma? I can tell you one 
 thing, I appreciated her before I found out that she was 
 likely to be ' famous ' ! Before I knew that Mr. Manning 
 condescended to notice her. We 'nursery folk' judge for 
 ourselves, we don't wait to find out what other people think, 
 and I shan't give up Miss Earl ! She is my governess, and I 
 wish you would just let her alone! " 
 
 There was a touch of scorn in the boy's impatient tone, 
 and his mother bit her lip, and laughed constrainedly. 
 
 " Really, Felix ! who gave you a bill of sale to Miss Earl ? 
 She should consider herself exceedingly fortunate, as she 
 is the first of all your teachers with whom you have not 
 quarrelled most shamefully, even fought and scratched." 
 
 " And because she is sweet, and good and pretty, and i 
 love her, you must interfere and take her off to entertain 
 your company. She came here to take care of Hattie and 
 me, and not to go down-stairs to see visitors. She can't go 
 mamma. I want her myself. You have all the world to 
 talk to, and I have only her. Don't meddle, mamma." 
 
 " You are very selfish and ill-tempered, my poor little 
 boy, and I am heartily ashamed of 5 ou." 
 
 " If I am, it is because " 
 
 " Hush, Felix !" 
 
 Edna laid her hand on the pale, curling lips of the cripple, 
 and luckily at this instant Mrs. Andrews was summoned 
 from the room. 
 
 Scarcely waiting till the door closed after her, the boy 
 exclaimed passionately : 
 
 " Felix ! don't call me Felix ! That means happy, lucky ! 
 and she had no right to give me such a name. I am In- 
 felix ! nobody loves me ! nobody cares for me, except te 
 pity me, and I would rather be strangled than pitied ! 1 
 
376 &r - elho. 
 
 wish T was dead and at rest in Greenwood ! I wish some- 
 body would knock my brains out with my cru'.ch ! and save 
 me from hobbling through life. Even my mother is 
 ashamed of my deformity ! She ought to have treated me 
 as the Spartans did their dwarfs ! She ought to have 
 thrown me into East River before I was a day old ! I 
 wish I was dead ! Oh ! I do ! I do !" 
 
 " Felix, it is very wicked to " 
 
 " I tell you I won't be called Felix, Whenever I hear 
 the name it makes me feel as I did one day when my 
 crutches slipped on the ice, and I fell on the pavement before 
 the door, and some newsboys stood and laughed at me. 
 Infelix Andrews ! I want that written on my tombstone 
 when I am buried." 
 
 He trembled from head to foot, and angry tears dimmed 
 his large, flashing eyes, while Hattie sat with her elbows 
 resting on her knees, and her chin in her hands, looking sor- 
 rowfully at her brother. 
 
 Edna put her arm around the boy's shoulder, and drew 
 his head down on her lap, saying tenderly : 
 
 "Your mother did not mean that she was ashamed of her 
 son, but only grieved and mortified by his ungovernable 
 temper, which made him disrespectful to her. I know that 
 she is very proud of your fine intellect; and your ambition 
 to become a thorough scholar, and " 
 
 " Oh ! yes, and of my handsome body ! and my pretty feet !'' 
 
 "My dear little boy, it is sinful for you to speak in that 
 way, and God will punish you if you do not struggle against 
 suoh feelings." 
 
 " I don't see how I can be planished any more than I have 
 been already. To be a lame dwarf is the worst that can 
 happen." 
 
 "Suppose you were poor and friendless — an orphan with 
 no one to care for you ? Suppose you had no dear, good, 
 little sister like Hattie to love you? Now, Felix, I know 
 that the very fact that you are not as strong and well-grown 
 
ST. ELMO. 877 
 
 as most boys of your age, only makes your mother and all 
 of ns love you more tenderly ; and it is very ungrateful in 
 you to talk so bitterly when we are trying to make you 
 happy and good and useful. Look at little Lila, shut up in 
 silence, unable to speak one word, or to hear a bird sing or 
 a baby laugh, and yet see how merry and good-natured she 
 is. How much more afflicted she is than you are ! Sup- 
 pose she was always fretting and complaining, looking mis- 
 erable and sour, and out of humor, do you think you would 
 love her half as well as you do now ?" 
 
 He made no reply, but his thin hands covered his sallow 
 face. 
 
 Hattie came close to him, sat down on the carpet, and 
 put her head, thickly crowned with yellow curls, on his 
 knee. Her uncle Grey had given her a pretty ring the day 
 before, and now she silently and softly took it from her own 
 finger, and slipped it on her brother's. 
 
 " Felix, you and Hattie were so delighted with that little 
 poem which I read to you from the Journal of Euge'nie de 
 Guerin, that I have tried to set it to music for you. The 
 tune does not suit it exactly, but we can use it until I find 
 a better one." 
 
 She went to the piano and sang that exquisite nursery 
 ballad, " Jotjjott, the angel op the Playthings." 
 
 Hattie clapped her hands with delight, and Felix partially 
 forgot his woes and grievances. 
 
 " Now, I want you both to learn to sing it, and I will 
 teach Hattie the accompaniment. On Felix's birthday, 
 which is not very distant, you can surprise your father and 
 mother by singing it for them. In gratitude to the author 
 I think every little child should sing it and call it ' Eugenie's 
 Angel Song.' Hattie, it is eleven o'clock, and time for yoo 
 to practise your music-lesson." 
 
 The lifctle girl climbed upon the piano-stool and began tc 
 count aloud, and after a while Edna bent down and put 
 her hand on Felix's shoulder 
 
378 ST - elmo. 
 
 " You grieved your mother this morning and spoke a ery 
 disrespectfully to her. I know you regret it, and you onght 
 to tell her so and ask her to forgive you. You would feel 
 happier all day if you would only acknowledge your fault. 
 I hear your mother in her own room : will you not go and 
 kiss her ?" 
 
 He averted his head and muttered : 
 
 " I dont want to kiss her." 
 
 " But you ought to be a dutiful son, and you are not ; 
 and your mother has cause to be displeased with you. If 
 you should ever be so unfortunate as to lose her, and stand 
 as I do, motherless, in the world, you will regret the pain 
 you gave her this morning. Oh ! if I had the privilege of 
 kissing my mother, I could bear almost any sorrow patiently. 
 If it mortifies you to acknowledge your bad behavior, it 
 is the more necessary that you should humble your pride. 
 Felix, sometimes I think it requires more nobility of sou] 
 to ask pardon for our faults than to resist the temptation 
 to commit them." 
 
 She turned away and busied herself in correcting his 
 Latin exercise, and for some time the boy sat sullen and 
 silent. 
 
 At length he sighed heavily, and, taking his crutches, 
 came up to the table where she sat. 
 
 "Suppose you tell my mother I am sorry I was disre- 
 spectful." 
 
 " Felix, are you really sorry ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Well, then, go and tell her so, and she will love you a 
 thousand times more than ever before. The confession 
 Bhould come from your own lips." 
 
 He stood irresolute and sighed again : 
 
 " I will go, if you will go with me." 
 
 She rose, and they went to Mrs. Andrews's room. The 
 mother was superbly dressed in visiting costume, and was 
 tying on her bonnet when they entered. 
 
8T. ULMO. 379 
 
 " Mrs. Andrews, your son wishes to say something which 
 I think you will be glad to hear." 
 
 " Indeed ! Well, Felix, what is it ?" 
 
 " Mamma — I believe — I know I was very cross — and dis- 
 respectful to you — and O mamma ! I hope you will forgive 
 rae !" 
 
 He dropped his crutches and stretched out his arms, arid 
 Mrs. Andrews threw down the diamond cluster, with which 
 she was fastening her ribbons and caught the boy to her 
 bosom. 
 
 "My precious child! my darling! Of course I forgive 
 you gladly. My dear son, if you only knew half how well 
 I love you, you would not grieve me so often by your pas- 
 sionate temper. My darling ! " 
 
 She stooped to kiss him, and when she turned to look for 
 the girlish form of the governess, it was no longer visible : 
 mother and son were alone. 
 
CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 fURING the first few months after her removal to 
 New- York, Edna received frequent letters from 
 Mrs. Murray and Mr. Hammond ; but as winte> 
 advanced they wrote more rarely and hurried- 
 ly, and finally many weeks elapsed without bringing any 
 tidings from Le Bocage. St. Elmo's name was never men- 
 tioned, and while the girl's heart ached, she crushed ii more 
 ruthlessly day by day, and in retaliation imposed additional 
 and unremitting toil upon her brain. 
 
 Mr. Manning had called twice to escort her to the libra- 
 ries and art-galleries, and occasionally he sent her new 
 books, and English and French periodicals ; but his chill, 
 imperturbable calmness oppressed and embarrassed Edna, 
 and formed a barrier to all friendly warmth in their inter- 
 course. He so completely overawed her, that in his au- 
 gust presence she was unable to do herself justice, and felt 
 that she was not gaining ground in his good opinion. The 
 brooding serenity of his grave, Egyptic face was not conta- 
 gious ; and she was conscious of a vague disquiet, a painful 
 restlessness, when in his company and under his cold, 
 changeless eyes. 
 
 One morning in January as she sat listening to Felix's 
 recitations, Mrs. Andrews came into the school-room with 
 an open note in one hand, and an exquisite bouquet in the 
 other. 
 
 " Miss Earl, here is an invitation for you to accompany 
 Mr. Manning to the opera, to-night ; and here, too, is a bou 
 
SI. ELMO. 381 
 
 quet from the same considerate gentleman. As he dots me 
 the honor to request my company also, I came to confer 
 with you before sending a reply. Of course you will go ?" 
 
 " Yes, Mrs. Andrews, if you will go with me." 
 
 Edna bent over her flowers, and recognizing many favor- 
 ites that recalled the hot-house at Le Bocage, her eyes tilled 
 with tears, and she hastily put her lips to the snowy cups 
 of an oxalis. How often she had seen just such fragile 
 petals nestling in the button-hole of Mr. Murray's coat. 
 
 " I shall write and invite him to come early and take tea 
 with us. Now, Miss Earl, pardon my candor, I should like 
 to know what you intend to wear? You know that Mr. 
 Manning is quite lionized here, and you will have to face a 
 terrific battery of eyes and lorgnettes ; for every body will 
 stretch his or her neck to find out, first, who you are, and 
 secondly, how you are dressed. Now I think I understand 
 rather better than you do what is comme il faut in these 
 matters, and I hope you will allow me to dictate on this 
 occasion. Moreover, our distinguished escort is extremely 
 fastidious concerning ladies' toilettes.'''' 
 
 " Here are my keys, Mrs. Andrews ; examine my ward- 
 robe and select what you consider appropriate for to-night." 
 
 " On condition that you permit me to supply any deficien- 
 cies which I may discover? Come to my room at six 
 o'clock, and let Victorine dress your hair. Let me see, I 
 expect a la Grec will best suit your head and face." 
 
 Edna turned to her pupils and their books, but all day 
 the flowers in the vase on the table prattled of days gone 
 by ; of purple sunsets streaming through golden-starred 
 acacia boughs ; of long, languid, luxurious Southern after- 
 noons dying slowly on beds of heliotrope and jasmine, spicy 
 geraniums and gorgeous pelargoniums ; of dewy, delicious 
 summer mornings, for ever and ever past, when standing 
 beside a quivering snow-bank of Lamarque roses, she had 
 watched Tamerlane and his gloomy rider go down the shad- 
 owy avenue of elms. 
 
382 ST - ELMO. 
 
 The monotonous hum of the children's voices seemed 
 thin and strange and far, far off, jarring the sweet bouquet 
 babble ; and still as the hours passed, and the winter day- 
 waned, the flower Fugue swelled on and on, through the 
 cold and dreary chambers of her heart ; now rising stormy 
 and passionate, like a battle-blast, from the deep orange 
 trumpet of a bignonia ; and now whispering and sobbing 
 and pleading, from the pearly white lips of hallowed oxalis. 
 
 When she sat that night in Mr. Manning's box at the 
 Academy of Music, the editor raised his opera-glass, swept 
 the crowded house, scanning the lovely, beaming faces 
 wreathed with smiles, and then his grave, piercing glance 
 came back and dwelt on the countenance at his side. The 
 cherry silk lining and puffings on her opera-cloak threw a 
 delicate stain of color over her exquisitely moulded cheeks, 
 and in the braid of black hair which rested like a coronal 
 on her polished brow, burned a scarlet anemone. Her long 
 lashes drooped as she looked down at the bouquet between 
 her fingers, and listening to the Fugue which memory played 
 on the petals, she sighed involuntarily. 
 
 " Miss Earl, is this your first night at the opera ?" 
 
 " No, sir ; I was here once before with Mr. Andrews and 
 his children." 
 
 "I judge from your writings that you are particularly 
 fond of music." 
 
 " Yes, sir ; I think few persons love it better than I do." 
 
 " What style do you prefer ?" 
 
 " Sacred music — oratorios rather than operas." 
 
 The orchestra began an overture of Verdi's, and Edna's 
 eyes went back to her flowers. 
 
 Presently Mrs. Andrews said eagerly : 
 
 " Look, Miss Earl ! Yonder, in the box directly opposite, 
 is the celebrated Sir Roger Percival, the English nobleman 
 about whom all Gotham is running mad. If he has not 
 more sense than most men of his age, his head will be com- 
 pletely turned by the flattery heaped upon him. What a 
 
ST. ELMO. 3S8 
 
 commentary on Republican Americans, that we are sc daz- 
 zled by the glitter of a title ! However, he really is very 
 agreeable ; I have met him several times, dined with him 
 last week at the Coltons. He has been watching ns for 
 some minutes. Ah ! there is a bow for me ; and one I pre- 
 sume for you, Mr. Manning." 
 
 " Yes, I knew him abroad. We spent a month together 
 at Dresden, and his brain is strong enough to bear all the 
 adulation New-Yorkers offer his title." 
 
 Edna looked into the opposite box, and saw a tall, ele- 
 gantly-dressed man, with huge whiskers, and a glittering 
 opera-glass ; and then as the curtain rose on the first act of 
 " Ernani," she turned to the stage, and gave her entire at' 
 tention to the music. 
 
 At the close of the second act Mrs. Andrews said : 
 
 " Pray, who is that handsome man down yonder in the 
 parquet, fanning himself with a libretto ? I do not think 
 his eyes have moved from this box for the last ten minutes. 
 He is a stranger to me." 
 
 She turned her fan in the direction of the person indicated, 
 and Mr. Manning looked down and answered : 
 
 " He is unknown to me." 
 
 Edna's eyes involuntarily wandered over the sea of heads, 
 and the editor saw her start and lean forward, and noticed 
 the sudden joy that flashed into her face, as she met the 
 earnest, upward gaze of Gordon Leigh. 
 
 " An acquaintance of yours, Miss Earl ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir ; an old friend from the South." 
 
 The door of the box opened, and Sir Roger Percival came 
 in and seated himself near Mrs. Andrews, who in her cor- 
 dial welcome seemed utterly to forget the presence of the 
 governess. 
 
 Mr. Manning sat close to Edna, and taking a couple of 
 letters from his pocket he laid them on her lap, saying : 
 
 " These letters were directed to my care by persons who 
 are ignorant of your name and address. If you will not 
 
384 8T- ELMO. 
 
 consider me unpardonably curious, I should like to know 
 the nature of their contents." 
 
 She broke the seals and read the most nattering commen- 
 dation of her magazine sketches, the most cordial thanks for 
 the pleasure derived from their perusal ; but the signatures 
 were unknown to her. 
 
 A sudden wave of crimson surged into her face as she 
 eilently put the letters into Mr. Manning's hand, and 
 watched his grave, fixed, undemonstrative features, while 
 he read, refolded, and returned them to her. 
 
 " Miss Earl, I have received several documents of a simi- 
 lar character asking for your address. Do you still desire 
 to write incognito, or do you wish your name given to your 
 admirers ?" 
 
 " That is a matter which I am willing to leave to your 
 superior judgment." 
 
 " Pardon me, but I much prefer that you determine it for 
 yourself." 
 
 " Then you may give my name to those who are sufB- 
 ciently interested in me to write and make the inquiry." 
 
 Mr. Manniug smiled slightly, and lowered his voice as 
 he said : 
 
 " Sir Roger Percival came here to-jiight to be introduced 
 to you. He has expressed much curiosity to see the author 
 of the last article which you contributed to the magazine ; 
 and I told him that you would be in my box this evening. 
 Shall I present him now ?" 
 
 Mr. Manning was rising, but Edna put her hand on his 
 arm, and answered hurriedly: 
 
 " No, no ! He is engaged in conversation with Mrs. An- 
 drews, and, moreover, I believe I do not particularly desire 
 to be presented to him." 
 
 " Here comes your friend ; I will vacate this seat in his 
 favor." 
 
 He rose, bowed to Gordon Leigh, and gave him the chair 
 which he had occupied. 
 
ST. ELMO. 335 
 
 " Edna ! how I have longed to see you once more !" 
 
 Gordon's hand seized hers, and his handsome face was 
 eloquent with feelings whieh he felt no inclination to con- 
 ceal. 
 
 "The sight of your countenance is an unexpected pleas- 
 are in New- York. Mr. Leigh, when did you arrive ?" 
 
 "This afternoon. Mr. Hammond gave me your address, 
 and I called to see you, but was told that you were here." 
 
 " How are they all at home ?" 
 
 " Do you mean at Le Bocage or the Parsonage ?" 
 
 " I mean how are all my friends ?" 
 
 " Mrs. Murray is very well, Miss Estelle, ditto. Mr. Ham- 
 mond has been sick, but was better and able to preach be- 
 fore I left. I brought a letter for you from him, but unfor- 
 tunately left it in the pocket of my travelling coat. Edna, 
 you have changed very much since I saw you last." 
 
 " In what respect, Mr. Leigh ?" 
 
 The crash of the orchestra filled the house, and people 
 turned once more to the stage. Standing with his arms 
 folded, Mr. Manning saw the earnest look on Gordon's face 
 as, with his arm resting on the back of Edna's chair, he talk- 
 ed in a low eager tone ; and a pitying smile partially curved 
 the editor's granite mouth as he noticed the expression of 
 pain on the girl's face, and heard her say coldly : 
 
 " No, Mr. Leigh ; what I told you then I repeat now. 
 Time has made no change." 
 
 The opera ended, the curtain fell, and an enthusiastic 
 audience called out the popular prima donna. 
 
 While bouquets were showered upon her, Mr. Manning 
 stooped and put his hand on Edna's : 
 
 " Shall I throw your tribute for you ?" 
 
 She hastily caught the bouquet from his fingers, and re- 
 plied : 
 
 " Oh ! no, thank you ! I am so selfish, I can not spare it." 
 
 "I shall call at ten o'clock to-morrow to deliver your 
 letter," said Gordon, as he stood hat in hand. 
 
386 ST. llxo. 
 
 " I shall be glad to see you, Mr. Leigh ' 
 
 He shook hands with her and with Mr. Manning, to whom 
 she had introduced him, and left the box. 
 
 Sir Roger Percival gave his arm to Mrs. Andrews, and 
 the editor drew Edna's cloak over her shoulders, took her 
 hand and led her down the steps. 
 
 As her little gloved fingers rested in his, the feeling; of 
 awe and restraint melted away, and looking into his face 
 she said : 
 
 "Mr. Manning, \ do not think you will ever know half 
 how much I thank you for all your kindness to an unknown 
 authorling. I have enjoyed the music very much indeed. 
 How is Lila to-night ?' 
 
 A slight tremor crossed his lips ; the petrified hawthorn 
 was quivering into life. 
 
 " She is quite well, thank you. Pray what do you know 
 abont her ? I was not aware that I had ever mentioned 
 her name in your presence." 
 
 " My pupil Felix is her most devoted knight, and I see 
 her almost every afternoon when I go with the children to 
 Central Park." 
 
 They reached the carriage where the Englishman stood 
 talking to Mrs. Andrews, and when Mr. Manning had hand- 
 ed Edna in, he turned and said something, to Sir Roger, 
 who laughed lightly and walked away. 
 
 During the ride Mrs. Andrews talked volubly of the for- 
 eigner's ease and elegance and fastidious musical taste, and 
 Mr. Manning listened courteously and bowed coldly in 
 reply. "When they reached home she invited him to dinner 
 on the following Thursday, to meet Sir Roger Percival. 
 
 As the editor bade them good night, he said to Edna : 
 
 " Go to sleep at once; do not sit up to work to-night." 
 
 Did she follow his sage advice ? Ask of the stars that 
 watched her through the long winter night, and the dap- 
 pled dawn that saw her stoopiug wearily over her desk. 
 
 At the appointed hour on the following morning Mr, 
 
ST. ELMO. 387 
 
 Leigh called, and after some desultory remarks he asked, 
 rather abruptly : 
 
 "Has St. Elmo Murray written to you about his last 
 whim ?" 
 
 " I do not correspond with Mr. Murray." 
 
 "Every body wonders what droll freak will next seize 
 him. Reed, the blacksmith, died several months ago and, 
 to the astonishment of our people, Mr. Murray has taken 
 his orphan, Huldah, to Le Bocage ; has adopted her I be- 
 lieve ; at all events, is educating her." 
 
 Edna's face grew radiant. 
 
 " Oh ! I am glad to hear it ! Poor little Huldah needed a 
 friend, and she could not possibly have fallen into kinder 
 hands than Mr. Murray's." 
 
 " There certainly exists some diversity of opinion on that 
 subject. He is rather too grim a guardian, I fancy, for one 
 so young as Huldah Reed." 
 
 " Is Mr. Hammond teaching Huldah ?" 
 
 " Oh ! no. Herein consists the wonder. Murray himself 
 hears her lessons, so Estelle told my sister. A proposf 
 rumor announces the approaching marriage of the cousins. 
 My sister informed me that it would take place early in the 
 spring." 
 
 " Do you allude to Mr. Murray and Miss Harding ?" 
 
 " I do. They will go to Europe immediately after their 
 marriage." 
 
 Gordon looked searchingly at his companion, but saw 
 only a faint incredulous smile cross her calm face. 
 
 " My sister is Estelle's confidant, so you see I speak ad- 
 visedly. I know that her trousseau has been ordered from 
 Paris." 
 
 Edna's fingers closed spasmodically over each other, but 
 she laughed as she answered : 
 
 " How then dare you betray her confidence ? Mr. Leigh, 
 how long will you remain in New-York?" 
 
 " 1 shall leave to-morrow, unless I have reason to hope 
 
SS8 ST. ELMO. 
 
 that a longer visit will give you pleasure. I came hera 
 solely to see you." 
 
 He attempted to unclasp her fingers, hut she shook off 
 his hand and said quickly : 
 
 " I know what you are ahout to say, and I would rather 
 not hear what would only distress us both. If you wish 
 me to respect you, Mr. Leigh, you must never again allude 
 to a subject which I showed you last night was exceeding- 
 ly painful to me. While I value you as a friend, and am 
 rejoiced to see you again, I should regret to learn that you 
 had prolonged your stay even one hour on my account." 
 
 " You are ungrateful, Edna ! And I begin to realize that 
 you are utterly heartless." 
 
 " If I am, at least I have never trifled with or deceived 
 you, Mr. Leigh." 
 
 " You have no heart, or you certainly could not so coldly 
 reject an affection which any other woman would proudly 
 accept. A few years hence, when your insane ambition is 
 fully satiated, and your beauty fades, and your writings pall 
 upon public taste, and your smooth-tongued flatterers for- 
 sake your shrine to bow before that of some new and more 
 popular idol, then Edna, you will rue your folly." 
 
 She rose and answered quietly : 
 
 " The future may contain only disappointments for me, 
 but however lonely, however sad my lot may prove, I think 
 I shall never fall so low as to regret not having married a 
 man whom I find it impossible to love. The sooner this in- 
 terview ends the longer our friendship will last. My time 
 is not now my own, and, as my duties claim me in the 
 school-room, I Avill bid you good-bye." 
 
 "Edna, if you send me from you now, you shall ne\er 
 .ook upon my face again in this world 1" 
 
 Mournfully her tearful eyes sought his, but her voice waa 
 low and steady as she put out both hands, and said sol- 
 emnly : 
 
 " Farewell, dear friend. God grant that when next wa 
 
ST. ELMO. ggg 
 
 see each other's faces they maybe overshado yt I ..y the 
 shining, white plumes of our angel wings, in that city of 
 God ' where the wicked cease from troubling and the 
 weary are at rest.' ' Never again in this world,' ah ! such 
 words are dreary and funereal as the dull fall of clods on a 
 coffin-lid ; but so be it. Thank God ! time brings us all to 
 one inevitable tryst before the great, white throne." 
 
 He took the hands, bowed his forehead upon them and 
 groaned ; then drew them to his lips and left her. 
 
 "With a slow, weary step she turned and went up to her 
 room and read Mr. Hammond's letter It was long ana 
 kind, full of affection and wise counsel, but contained no 
 allusion to Mr. Murray. 
 
 As she refolded it she saw a slip of paper which had 
 fallen unnoticed on the carpet, and picking it up she read 
 these words : 
 
 " It grieves me to have to tell you that, after all, I fear 
 St. Elmo will marry Estelle Harding. He does not love 
 her, she can not influence him to redeem himself; his future 
 looks hopeless indeed. Edna, my child! what have you 
 done ! Oh ! what have you done !" 
 
 Her heart gave a sudden, wild bound, then a spasm 
 seemed to seize it, and presently the fluttering ceased, her 
 pulses stopped, and a chili darkness fell upon her. 
 
 Her head sank heavily on her chest, and when she recov- 
 ered her memory she felt an intolerable sensation of suffoca- 
 tion, and a sharp pain that seemed to stab the heart, whose 
 throbs were slow and feeble. 
 
 She raised the window and leaned out panting for breath, 
 and the freezing wind powdered her face with fine snow- 
 flakes, and sprinkled its fairy flower-crystals over her 
 hair. 
 
 The outer world was chill and dreary, the leafless limbs 
 of the trees in the park looked ghostly and weird against 
 the dense dun clouds which seemed to stretch like a smoke 
 mantle just above the sea of roofs ; and, dimly seen through 
 
890 ST. ELMO. 
 
 the white mist, Brooklyn's heights and Staten's hills were 
 huge outlines monstrous as Echidna. 
 
 Physical pain blanched Edna's lips, and she pressed her 
 hand repeatedly to her heart, wondering what caused those 
 keen pangs. At last, when the bodily suffering passed 
 away, and she sat down exhausted, her mind reverted to 
 the sentence in Mr. Hammond's letter. 
 
 She knew the words were not lightly written, and that 
 his reproachful appeal had broken from the depths of his 
 aching heart, and was intended to rouse her to some action. 
 
 " I can do nothing, say nothing ! Must sit still and wait 
 patiently — prayerfully. To-day, if I could put out my 
 hand and touch Mr. Murray, and bind him to me for ever, I 
 would not. No, no ! Not a finger must I lift, even be- 
 tween him and Estelle ! But he will not marry her ! I 
 know — I feel that he will not. Though I never look upon 
 his face again, he belongs to me ! He is mine, and no other 
 woman can take him from me." 
 
 A strange, mysterious, shadowy smile settled on her 
 pallid features, and faintly and dreamily she repeated : 
 
 " And yet I know past all doubting, truly — 
 
 A knowledge greater than grief can dim — 
 I know as he loved, lie will love me duly, 
 
 Tea, better, e'en better tban I love him. 
 And as I walk by the vast, calm river, 
 
 The awful river so dread to see, 
 I say, ' Thy breadth and thy depth for ever 
 
 Are bridged by his thoughts that cross to me.' " 
 
 Her lashes drooped, her head fell back against the top of 
 the chair, and she lost all her woes until Felix's voice 
 roused her, and she saw the frightened boy standing at her 
 side, shaking her hand and calling piteously upon her. 
 
 " Oh ! I thought you were dead ! You looked so white 
 and felt so cold. Are you very sick ? Shall I go for 
 mamma ?" 
 
tT. ELMO. 391 
 
 For a moment she looked in his face with a perplexed, 
 bewildered expression, then made an effort to rise. 
 
 " I suppose that I must have fainted, for I had a ter- 
 rible pain here, and " She laid her hand over her 
 
 heart. 
 
 "Felix, let us go down-stairs. I think if your mother 
 would give me some wine, it might strengthen me." 
 
 Notwithstanding the snow Mrs. Andrews had gone out ; 
 but Felix had the wine brought to the school-room, and 
 after a little while the blood showed itself shyly in the gov- 
 erness's white lips, and she took the boy's Latin book and 
 heard him recite his lesson. 
 
 The day appeared wearily long, but she omitted none of tho 
 appointed tasks, and it was nearly nine o'clock before Felix 
 fell asleep that night. Softly unclasping his thin fingers 
 which clung to her hand, she went up to her own room, feel- 
 ing the full force of those mournful words in Eugenie de 
 Guerin's Journal : 
 
 " It goes on in the soul. No one is aware of what I feel ; 
 no one suffers from it. I only pour out my heart before 
 God — and here. Oh! to-day what efforts I make to shake 
 off this profitless sadness — this sadness without tears — arid, 
 bruising the heart like a hammer !" 
 
 There was no recurrence of the physical agony ; and af- 
 ter two days the feeling of prostration passed away, and 
 only the memory of the attack remained. 
 
 The idea of lionizing her children's governess, and intro- 
 ducing her to soi-disant "fashionable society," had taken 
 possession of Mrs. Andrews's mind, and she was quite as 
 much delighted with her patronizing scheme as a child 
 would have been with a new hobby-horse. Dreams at 
 •which even Maecenas might have laughed floated through 
 her busy brain, and filled her kind heart with generous an- 
 ticipations. On Thursday she informed Edna that she de- 
 sired her presence at dinner, and urged her request with 
 such pertinacious earnestness that no alternative remained 
 
892 ST. ELMO. 
 
 but acquiescence, and reluctantly the governess prepared to 
 meet a formidable party of strangers. 
 
 When Mrs. Andrews presented Sir Roger Percival, he 
 bowed rather haughtily, and with a distant politeness, 
 which assured Edna that he was cognizant of her refusal 
 to make his acquaintance at the opera. 
 
 During the early part of dinner he divided his gay 
 words between his hostess and a pretty Miss Morton, who 
 was evidently laying siege to his heart, and carefully flat- 
 tering his vanity ; but whenever Edna, his vis-d-vis, looked 
 toward him, she invariably found his fine brown eyes scru- 
 tinizing her face. 
 
 Mr. Manning, who sat next to Edna, engaged her in an 
 animated discussion concerning the value of a small Volume 
 containing two essays by Buckle, which he had sent her a 
 few days previous. 
 
 Something which she said to the editor with reference to 
 Buckle's extravagant estimate of Mill, brought a smile to 
 the Englishman's lip, and, bowing slightly, he said : 
 
 " Pardon me, Miss Earl, if I interrupt you a moment to 
 express my surprise at hearing Mill denounced by an Amer- 
 ican. His books on Representative Government and Lib- 
 erty are so essentially democratic that I expected only 
 gratitude and eulogy from his readers on this side of the 
 Atlantic." 
 
 Despite her efforts to control it, embarrassment unstrung 
 her nerves, and threw a quiver into her voice, as she an- 
 swered : 
 
 "I do not presume, sir, to 'denounce' a man whom 
 Buckle ranks above all other living writers and statesmen ; 
 but, in anticipating the inevitable result of the adoption of 
 some of Mill's proposed social reforms, I could not avoid 
 recalling that wise dictum, of Frederick the Great concern- 
 ing philosophers — a saying which Buckle quotes so trium- 
 phantly against Plato, Aristotle, Descartes — even Bacon, 
 Newton, and a long list of names illustrious in the annals 
 
ST ELMO. 393 
 
 of English literature. Frederick declared : if I ^ tinted to 
 ruin one of my provinces, I would make over its government 
 to the philosophers.' With due deference to Buckle's su- 
 perior learning and astuteness, I confess my study of Mill's 
 philosophy assures me that, if society should be turned over 
 to the government of his theory of Liberty and Suffrage, it 
 would go to ruin more rapidly than Frederick's province. 
 Under his teachings the women of England might soon mar- 
 shal their amazonian legions, and storm not only Parnassus 
 but the ballot-box, the bench, and the forum. That this 
 should occur in a country where a woman nominally rules, 
 and certainly reigns, is not so surprising, but I dread the 
 contagion of such an example upon America." 
 
 "His influence is powerful, from the fact that he nevei* 
 takes up his pen without using it to break some social 
 shackles; and its strokes are tremendous as those of the 
 hammer of Thor. But surely, Miss Earl, you Americans 
 can not with either good taste, grace, or consistency, upbraid 
 England on the score of woman's rights' movements ?" 
 
 "At least, sir, our statesmen are not yet attacked by this 
 most loathsome of political leprosies. Only a few crazy 
 fanatics have fallen victims to it, and if lunatic asylums 
 were not frequently cheated of their dues, these would not 
 be left at large, but shut up together in high-walled inclos- 
 ures, where, like Sydney Smith's ' graminivorous metaphy- 
 sicians,' or Reaumur's spiders, they could only injure one 
 another and destroy their own webs. America has no Ben- 
 tham, Bailey, Hare or Mill, to lend countenance or strength 
 to the ridiculous clamor raised by a few unamiable and 
 wretched wives, and as many embittered, disappointed, old 
 maids of New England; whose absurd pretensions and dis- 
 graceful conduct can not fail to bring a blush of shame and 
 smile of pity to the face of every truly refined American 
 woman. The noble apology which Edmund Burke once of- 
 fered for his countrymen, always recurs to my mind when I 
 hear these 'women's conventions' alluded to: 'Because 
 
394 ST. ELMO. 
 
 half a dozen grasshoppers under a fern make the fie.d ring 
 with their importunate chink, while thousands of great cat- 
 tle repose beneath the shade of the British oak, chew the cud, 
 and are silent, pray do not imagine that those who make the 
 noise are the only inhabitants of the field ; that, of course, 
 they are many in number, or that, after all, they are other 
 than the little, shrivelled, meagre, hopping, though loud and 
 troublesome insects of the hour.' I think, sir, that the noble 
 and true women of this continent earnestly believe that the 
 day which invests them with the elective franchise would be 
 the blackest in the annals of humanity, would ring the death- 
 knell of modern civilization, of national prosperity, social 
 morality, and domestic happiness ! and would consign the 
 race to a night of degradation and horror infinitely more ap- 
 palling than a return to primeval barbarism. Then every 
 exciting political canvass would witness the revolting deeds 
 of the furies who assisted in storming the Tuileries ; and repe- 
 titions of scenes enacted during the French Revolution, 
 which mournfully attest how terrible indeed are female 
 natures when once perverted. God, the Maker, tenderly 
 anchored womanhood in the peaceful, blessed haven of home , 
 and if man is ever insane enough to mar the divine economy, 
 by setting women afloat on the turbulent, roaring sea of poli- 
 tics, they will speedily become pitiable wrecks. Sooner than 
 such an inversion of social order, I would welcome even 
 Turkish bondage ; for surely utter ignorance is infinitely pref- 
 erable to erudite unwomanliness." 
 
 " Even my brief sojourn in America has taught me the 
 demoralizing tendency of the doctrine of ' equality of races 
 and of sexes ," and you must admit, Miss Earl, that your 
 countrywomen are growing dangerously learned," answered 
 Sir Roger, smiling. 
 
 " I am afraid, sir, that it is rather the quality than the 
 
 quantity of their learning that makes them troublesome. 
 
 One of your own noble seers has most gracefully declared : 
 
 a woman may always help her husband,' (or race,) ' by 
 
ST. ELMO 395 
 
 what she knows, however little ; by what she half knows 
 or misknows, she will only tease him.' I never hear that 
 much abused word ' equality ' without a shudder ; and vis- 
 ions of Cordeliers and Versailles furies. 1 have no aristo- 
 cratic prejudices, for my grandfather was a blacksmith, and 
 my father a carpenter ; but I do not believe that ' all men 
 are born free and equal ;' and think that two thirds of the 
 Athenians were only fit to tie Socrates' shoes, and not one 
 half of Rome worthy to play valet and clasp the toga of 
 Cato or of Cicero. Neither do I claim nor admit the 
 equality of the sexes, whom God created with distinctive 
 intellectual characteristics, which never can be merged or 
 destroyed without outraging the decrees of nature, and 
 sapping the foundations of all domestic harmony. Allow 
 me t6 say, sir, in answer to your remark concerning learned 
 women, that it seems to me great misapprehension exists 
 relative to the question of raising the curriculum of female 
 education. Erudition and effrontery have no inherent con- 
 nection, and a woman has an unquestionable right to im- 
 prove her mind, ad infinitum, provided she does not barter 
 womanly delicacy and refinement for mere knowledge ; and, 
 in her anxiety to parade what she has gleaned, forget the 
 decorum and modesty, without which she is monstrous and 
 repulsive. Does it not appear reasonable that a truly re- 
 fined woman, whose heart is properly governed, should in- 
 crease her usefulness to her family and her race, by increas- 
 ing her knowledge ? A female pedant who is coarse and 
 boisterous, or ambitious of going to Congress, or making 
 stump-speeches, would be quite as unwomanly and unlovely 
 in character if she were utterly illiterate. I am afraid it is 
 not their superior learning or ability which afflicts the nine- 
 teenth century with those unfortunate abnormal develop- 
 ments, familiarly known as ' strong-minded women ;' but 
 that it is the misdirection of their energies, the one-sided 
 nature of their education. A woman who can not be con- 
 tented and happy in the bosom of her home, busied with or- 
 
396 ST. ELMO. 
 
 dinary womanly work, but fancies it is her mi&sion to prao 
 tise law or medicine, or go out lecturing, would be a trou- 
 blesome, disagreeable personage under all circumstances; 
 and would probably stir up quite as much mischief, while 
 using ungrarnmatical language, as if she were a perfect phi- 
 lologist. Whom did Socrates find most amiable and femi- 
 nine, learned Diotima, or unlearned Xantippe ? I think even 
 mankind would consent to see women as erudite as Damo, 
 or Isotta Nogarola, provided they were also as exemplary 
 in their domestic relations, as irreproachable and devoted 
 wives and daughters as Eponina and Chelonis, Alcestis and 
 Berengaria." 
 
 Sir Roger bowed assent, and Mr. Manning said : 
 
 " Very ' true, good, and beautiful,' as a mere theory in so- 
 ciology, but in an age when those hideous hermaphrotlites, 
 ycleped ' strong-minded women,' are becoming so alarming- 
 ly numerous, our eyes are rarely gladdened by a conjunc- 
 tion of highly cultivated intellects, noble, loving hearts, ten- 
 der, womanly sensibilities. Can you shoulder the onus pro- 
 bandi?" 
 
 " Sir, that rests with those who assert that learning ren- 
 ders women disagreeable and unfeminine ; the burden of 
 proof remains for you." 
 
 " Permit me to lift the weight for you,_Manning, by ask- 
 ing Miss Earl what she thinks of the comparative merits of 
 the ' Princess,' and of ' Aurora Leigh,' as correctives of the 
 tendency she deprecates ?" 
 
 Hitherto the discussion had been confined to the trio, 
 while the conversation was general, but now silence reigned 
 around the table, and when the Englishman's question 
 forced Edna to look up, she saw all eyes turned upon her , 
 and embarrassment flushed her face, and her lashes drooped 
 as she answered : 
 
 " It has often been asserted by those who claim profi 
 ciency in the anatomy of character, that women are the 
 most infallible judges of womanly, and men of manly na- 
 
ST. ELMO. 897 
 
 tures ; o it I am afraid that the poems referre a. to would 
 veto this decision. While I yield to no human being in ad- 
 miration of, and loving gratitude to Mrs. Browning, and 
 regard the first eight books of 'Aurora Leigh' as vigorous, 
 grand, and marvellously beautiful, I can not deny that a 
 painful feeling of mortification seizes me when I read the 
 ninth and concluding book, wherein 'Aurora,' with most 
 unwomanly vehemence, voluntarily declares and reiterates 
 her love for ' Roruney.' Tennyson's ' Princess ' seems to me 
 more feminine and refined and lovely than ' Aurora ;' and 
 it is because I love and revere Mrs. Browning, and consider 
 her not only the pride of her own sex, but an ornament to 
 the world, that I find it difficult to forgive the unwomanly 
 inconsistency into which she betrays her heroine. Allow 
 me to say that in my humble opinion nothing in the whole 
 range of literature so fully portrays a perfect woman as that 
 noble sketch by Wordsworth, and the inimitable descrip- 
 tion in Rogers's ' Human Life.' " 
 
 " The first is, I presume, familiar to all of us, but the last, 
 I confess, escapes my memory. Will you be good enough 
 to repeat it ?" said the editor, knitting his brows slightly. 
 
 " Excuse me, sir ; it is too long to be quoted here, and it 
 
 seems that I have already monopolized the conversation 
 
 much longer than I expected or desired. Moreover, to 
 
 quote Rogers to an Englishman would be equivalent to 
 
 carrying coal to Newcastle,' or peddling ' owls in Athens.' " 
 
 Sir Roger smiled as he said : 
 
 " Indeed, Miss Earl, while you spoke, I was earnestly ran- 
 sacking my memory for the passage to which you allude ; 
 but, I am ashamed to say, it is as fruitless an effort as ' call- 
 ing spirits from the vasty deep.' Pray be so kind as to re- 
 peat it for me." 
 
 At that instant little Hattie crept softly to the baek of 
 Edua's chair and whispered : 
 
 " Bro' Felix says, won't you please come back soon, and 
 finish that story where you. left off reading last night ?" 
 
898 BT. ELMO. 
 
 Very glad to possess so good an excuse the governess 
 rose at once ; but Mrs. Andrews said : 
 
 " Wait, Miss EarL What do you want, Hattie ?" 
 
 " Bro' Felix wants Miss Earl, and sent me to beg her to 
 come." 
 
 " Go back and tell him he is in a hopeless minority, and 
 that in this country the majority rule. There are fifteen 
 here who want to talk to Miss Earl, and he can't have her 
 in the school-room just now," said Grey Chilton, slyly pelt- 
 ing his niece with almonds. 
 
 " But Felix is really sick to-day, and if Mrs. Andrews 
 will excuse me, I prefer to go." 
 
 She looked imploringly at the lady of the house, who 
 said nothing ; and Sir Roger beckoned Hattie to him, and 
 exclaimed : 
 
 " Pray, may I inquire, Mrs. Andrews, why your children 
 do not make their appearance? I am sure you need not 
 fear a repetition of the sarcastic rebuke of that wit who, 
 when dining at a house where the children were noisy and 
 unruly, lifted his glass, bowed to the troublesome little 
 ones, and drank to the memoiy of King Herod. I am very 
 certain 'the murder of the innocents ' would never be re- 
 called here, unless — forgive me, Miss Earl ! but from the 
 sparkle in your eyes, I believe you anticipate me. Do you 
 really know what I am about to say ?" 
 
 " I think, sir, I can guess." 
 
 " Let me see whether you are a clairvoyant !" 
 
 " On one occasion when a sign for a children's school was 
 needed, and the lady teacher applied to Lamb to suggest a 
 design, he meekly advised that of ' The Murder of the Inno- 
 cents.' Thank you, sir. However, I am not surprised that 
 you entertain such flattering opinions of a profession which 
 in England boasts ' Squeers ' as its national type and repre- 
 sentative." 
 
 The young man laughed good-humoredly, and answered : 
 
 " For the honor of my worthy pedagogical countrymen, 
 
8T. ELMO. 399 
 
 permit me to assure you that the aforesaid 'Squeeis' is sun 
 ply one of Dickens's inimitable caricatures." 
 
 " Nevertheless I have somewhere seen the statement that 
 when ' Nicholas Nickleby ' first made its appearance, only 
 six irate schoolmasters went immediately to London, to 
 thrash the author ; each believing that he recognized his 
 own features in the amiable portrait of ' Squeers.' " 
 
 She bowed and turned from the table, but Mrs. Andrews 
 exclaimed : 
 
 " Before you go, repeat that passage from Rogers ; then 
 we will excuse you." 
 
 With one hand clasping Hattie's, and the other resting 
 on the back of her chair, Edna fixed her eyes on Mrs. An- 
 drews's face, and gave the quotation. 
 
 " His house she enters, there to be a light 
 Shining within when all without is night ; 
 A guardian-angel o'er his life presiding, 
 Doubling his pleasures and his cares dividing ; 
 Winning him back, when mingling in the throng, 
 From a vain world we love, alas ! too long, 
 To fireside happiness and hours of ease, 
 Blest with that charm, the certainty to please. 
 How oft her eyes read his ! her gentle mind 
 To all his wishes, all his thoughts inclined ; 
 Still subject— ever on the watch to borrow 
 Mirth of Ms mirth, and sorrow of his sorrow.** 
 
CHAPTER XXVH. 
 
 LOWER Y as Sicilian meads was the parsonage 
 garden on that quiet afternoon, late in May, 
 when Mr. Hammond closed the honeysuckle- 
 crowned gate, crossed the street, and walked 
 slowly into the churchyard, down the sacred streets of the 
 silent city of the dead, and entered the inclosure where 
 slept his white-robed household band. 
 
 The air was thick with perfume, as if some strong, daring 
 south wind had blown wide the mystic doors of Astarte's 
 huge laboratory, and overturned the myriad alembics, and 
 deluged the world with her fragrant and subtle distillations. 
 Honey-burdened bees hummed their hymns to labor, as 
 they swung to and fro ; and numbers of Psyche-symbols, 
 golden butterflies, floated dreamily in and around and over 
 the tombs, now and then poising on velvet wings, as if 
 waiting, listening for the clarion voice of Gabriel, to rouse 
 and reanimate the slumbering bodies beneath the gleaming 
 slabs. Canary-colored orioles flitted in and out of the trail- 
 ing willows, a red-bird perched on the brow of a sculptured 
 angel guarding a child's grave, and poured his sad, sweet, 
 monotonous notes on the spicy air; two purple pigeons, 
 with rainbow necklaces, cooed and fluttered up and down 
 from the church belfry, and, close under the projecting roof 
 of the granite vault, a pair of meek brown wrens were build 
 ing their nest and twittering softly one to another. 
 
 The pastor cut down the rank grass and fringy ferns, the 
 flaunting weeds and coreopsis that threatened to choke hi» 
 
ST. ELMO. 401 
 
 more delicate flowers, and, stooping, tied up the crimson 
 pinks, and wound the tendrils of the blue-veined clematis 
 around its slender trellis, and straightened the while petu- 
 nias and the orange-tinted crocaes, which the last heavy 
 shower had beaten to the ground. 
 
 The small, gray vault was overrun with ivy, whose dark 
 polished leaves threatened to encroach on a plain slab of 
 pure marble that stood very near it ; and as the minister 
 pruned away the wreaths, his eyes rested on the black let- 
 ters in the centre of the slab : " Murray Hammond. Aged 
 21." 
 
 Elsewhere the sunshine streamed warm and bright over 
 the graves, but here the rays were intercepted by the 
 church, and its cool shadow rested over vault and slab and 
 flowers. 
 
 The old man was weary from stooping so long, and now 
 he took off his hat and passed his hand over his forehead, 
 and sighed as he leaued against the door of the vault, 
 where fine fairy-fingered mosses were weaving their green 
 arabesque immortelles. 
 
 In a mournfully measured, yet tranquil tone, he said aloud : 
 
 " Ah ! truly, throughout all the years of my life I have 
 'never heard the promise of perfect love, without seeing 
 aloft amongst the stars, fingers as of a man's hand, writing 
 the secret legend : Ashes to ashes ! dust to dust /' " 
 
 Age was bending his body toward the earth with which 
 it was soon to mingle ; the ripe and perfect wheat nodded 
 lower and lower day by day, as the Angel of the Sickle de- 
 layed ; but his noble face wore that blessed and marvellous 
 calm, that unearthly peace which generally comes some 
 hours after death, when all traces of temporal passions and 
 woes are lost in eternity's repose. 
 
 A low wailing symphony throbbed through the church, 
 where the organist was practising; and then out of the win- 
 dows, and far away on the evening ah - , rolled the solemn 
 waves of that matchlessly mournful Requiem which, under 
 
402 ST. ELMO. 
 
 projhetia shadows, Mozart began on earth and haished per 
 haps, in heaven, on one of those golden harps whose apoca- 
 lyptic ringing smote St. John's eager ears among the lonely 
 rocks of iEgean-girdled Patmos. The sun had paused as if 
 to listen, on the wooded crest of a distant hill, but as the 
 requiem ended and the organ sobbed itself to rest, he gath- 
 ered up his burning rays and disappeared ; and the spotted 
 butterflies, like " winged tulips," flitted silently away, and 
 the evening breeze bowed the large yellow primroses, and 
 fluttered the phlox ; and the red nasturtiums that climbed 
 up at the foot of the slab shuddered, and shook their blood- 
 colored banners over the polished marble. A holy hush fell 
 upon all things save a towering poplar that leaned against 
 the church, and rustled its leaves ceaselessly, and shivered 
 and turned white, as tradition avers it has done since that 
 day, when Christ staggered along the Via Dolorosa bearing 
 his cross, carved out of poplar wood. 
 
 Leaning with his hands folded on the handle of the weed 
 ing-hoe, his gray beard sweeping over his bosom, his bare, 
 silvered head bowed, and his mild, peaceful blue eyes rest- 
 ing on his son's tomb, Mr. Hammond stood listening to the 
 music ; and when the strains ceased, his thoughts travelled 
 onward and xipward till they crossed the sea of crystal be- 
 fore the Throne, and in imagination he heard the song of 
 the four and twenty elders. 
 
 From this brief reverie some slight sound aroused him, 
 and lifting his eyes, he saw a man clad in white linen gar- 
 ments, wearing oxalis clusters in his coat, standing on the 
 opposite side of the monumental slab. 
 
 " St. Elmo ! my poor, suffering wanderer ! O St. Elmo I 
 come to me once more before I die !" 
 
 The old man's voice was thick with sobs, and his anna 
 trembled as he stretched them across the grave that inter- 
 vened. 
 
 Mr. Murray looked into the tender, tearful, pleading coun- 
 tenance, and the anguish that seized his own, making his 
 
ST. ELMO. 403 
 
 features writhe, beggars language. Ht instinct vely put 
 out his arms, then drew them back, and 1 jd his face in his 
 hands ; saying, in low, broken, almost inaudible tones : 
 
 "I am too unworthy. Dripping with the blood of youi 
 children, I dare not touch you." 
 
 The pastor tottered around the tomb, and stood at Mr. 
 Murray's side, and the next moment the old man's arms 
 were clasped around the tall form, and his white hair fell 
 on his pupil's shoulder. 
 
 " God be praised ! After twenty years' separation I hold 
 you once more to the heart that, even in its hours of deepest 
 sorrow, has never ceased to love you ! St. Elmo ! " 
 
 He wept aloud, and strained the prodigal convulsively to 
 his breast. 
 
 After a moment Mr. Murray's lips moved, twitched ; tears 
 dripped over his swarthy face, and with a sob that shook 
 his powerful frame from head to foot, he asked : 
 
 " Will you ever, ever forgive me ?" 
 
 " God is my witness that I freely and fully forgave you 
 many, many years ago ! The dearest hope of my lonely 
 life has been that I might tell you so, and make you realize 
 how ceaselessly my prayers and my love have followed you 
 in all your dreary wanderings. Oh ! I thank God that, at 
 last ! at last you have come to me, my dear, dear boy ! My 
 poor, proud prodigal !" 
 
 A magnificent jubilate swelled triumphantly through 
 church and churchyard, as if the organist up in the gallery 
 knew what was transpiring at Murray Hammond's grave ; 
 and when the thrilling music died away, St. Elmo broke 
 from the encircling arms, and knelt with his face shrouded 
 in his hands and pressed against the marble that covered 
 his victim. 
 
 After a little while the pastor sat down on the edge of 
 the slab, and laid his shrunken fingers softly and caressing- 
 ly upon the bowed head. 
 
 " Do not dwell upon a past that is fraught only with bit- 
 
4:04 ST. ELMO, 
 
 terness to you, and from which yo i can draw n d ba'jn. 
 Throw your painful memories behind you, and turn reso- 
 lutely to a future which may be rendered noble and useful 
 and holy. There is truth, precious truth in George Her- 
 bert's words : 
 
 ■ For all may ha-ve, 
 If they dare choose, a glorious life or grave 1' 
 
 and the years to come may, by the grace of God, more than 
 cancel those that have gone by." 
 
 " What have I to hope for — in time or eternity ? Oh ! 
 none but Almighty God can ever know the dreary blackness 
 and wretchedness of my despairing soul i the keen, sleep- 
 less agony of my remorse ! my utter loathing of my accursed, 
 distorted nature !" 
 
 "And his pitying eyes see all, and Christ stretches out 
 his hands to lift you up to himself, and his own words of 
 loving sympathy and pardon are spoken again to you : 
 ' Come unto me, all ye weary and heavy-laden, and I will 
 give you rest. 1 Throw all your galling load of memories 
 down at the foot of the cross, and ' the peace that passeth 
 all understanding ' shall enter your sorrowing soul, and 
 abide there for ever. St. Elmo, only prayer could have sus- 
 tained and soothed me since we parted that bright summer 
 morning twenty long, long years ago. Prayer took away 
 the sting and sanctified my sorrows for the good of my soul ; 
 and, my dear, dear boy, it will extract the poison and the bit- 
 terness from yours. That God answers prayer and comforts 
 the afflicted among men, I am a living attestation. It is 
 by his grace only that ' I am what I am ;' erring and un- 
 worthy I humbly own, but patient at least, and fully re- 
 signed to his will. The only remaining cause of disquiet 
 passed away just now, when I saw that you had come back 
 to me. St. Elmo, do you ever pray for yourself?" 
 
 " For some weeks I have been trying to pray, but my 
 words seem a mockery ; they do not rise, they fall back hiss- 
 ing upon my heart. I have injured and insulted you; I 
 
ST. ELMO. 405 
 
 nave cursed you and yours, have robbed }ou o^ your peac* 
 of mind, have murdered your children " 
 
 " Hush ! hush ! we will not disinter the dead. My peaca 
 of mind you have to-day given back to me ; and the hope 
 of your salvation is dearer to me than the remembered faces 
 of my darlings, sleeping here beside us. Oh St. Elmo ! I 
 have prayed for you as I never prayed even for my own 
 Murray ; and I know, I feel that all my wrestling before the 
 Throne of Grace has not been in vain. Sometimes my faith 
 grew faint, and as the years dragged on and I saw no melt- 
 ing of your haughty, bitter spirit, I almost lost hope ; but I 
 did not, thank God, I did not ! I held on to the precious 
 promise, and prayed more fervently, and, blessed be His 
 holy name ! at last, just before I go hence, the answer comes. 
 As I see you kneeling here at my Murray's grave, I know 
 now that your soul is snatched 'as a brand from the burn- 
 ing ! ' Oh ! I bless my merciful God, that in that day when 
 we stand for final judgment, and your precious soul is requir- 
 ed at my son's hands, the joyful cry of the recording angel 
 shall be, Saved ! saved ! for ever and ever, through the blood 
 of the Lamb !" 
 
 Overwhelmed with emotion, the pastor dropped his white 
 head on his bosom, and wept unrestrainedly; and once more 
 silence fell over the darkening cemetery. 
 
 One by one the birds hushed their twitter and went to 
 rest, and only the soft cooing of the pigeons floated down 
 now and then from the lofty belfry. 
 
 On the eastern horizon a thin, fleecy scarf of clouds was 
 silvered by the rising moon, the west was a huge shrine of 
 beryl whereon burned ruby flakes of vapor, watched by a 
 solitary vestal star ; and the sapphire arch overl ead was 
 beautiful and mellow as any that ever vaulted above tl e 
 sculptured marbles of Pisan Canrpo Santo. 
 
 Mr. Murray rose and stood with his head uncovered, and 
 his eyes fixed on the nodding nasturtiums that glowed like 
 blood-spots. 
 
406 ST - ELMO. 
 
 " Mr. Hammond, your magnanimity unmans me ; and if 
 your words be true, I feel in your presence like a leper ; 
 and should lay my lips in the dust, crying, 'Unclean! un- 
 clean !' For all that I have inflicted on you, I have neither 
 apology nor defence to offer; and I could much better have 
 borne curses from you than words of sympathy and affec- 
 tion. Tou amaze me, for I hate and scorn myself so thor- 
 oughly, that I marvel at the interest you still indulge for 
 me ; I can not understand how you can endure the sight of 
 my features, the sound of my voice. Oh ! if I could atone ! 
 If I could give Annie back to your arms, there is no suffer- 
 ing, no torture that I would not gladly embrace ! No pen- 
 ance of body or soul from which I would shrink !" 
 
 " My dear boy, (for such you still seem to me, notwith- 
 standing the lapse of time,) let my little darling rest with 
 her God. She went clown early to her long home, and 
 though I missed her sweet laugh, and her soft, tender hands 
 about my face, and have felt a chill silence in my house, 
 where music once was, she has been spared much suffering 
 and many trials ; and I would not recall her if I could, for 
 after a few more days I shall gather her back to my bosom 
 in that eternal land where the blighting dew of death never 
 Mis; where 
 
 ' Adieus and farewells are a sound unknown.' 
 
 Atone ? Ah St. Elmo ! you can atone. Save your soul, re- 
 deem your life, and I shall die blessing your name. Look 
 at me in my loneliness and infirmity. I am childless ; you 
 took my idols from me, long, long, ago ; you left my heart 
 desolate ; and now I have a right to turn to you, to stretch 
 out my feeble, empty arms, and say, Come, be my child, 
 fill my son's place, let me lean upon you in my old age, as 
 I once fondly dreamed I should lean on my own Murray ! 
 St. Elmo, will you come? Will you give me your heart, 
 my son ! my son I" 
 
 lie put out his trembling hands', and a yearning terder 
 
ST. ELMO. 407 
 
 ness shone in his eyes as he raised them to the tall, sterm 
 man before him. 
 
 Mr. Murray bent eagerly forward, and looked wonder- 
 ingly at him. 
 
 "Do you, can you mean it? It appears so impossible, 
 and I ha\e been so long sceptical of all nobility in my race. 
 Will you indeed shelter Murray's murderer in your gener- 
 ous, loving heart ?" 
 
 " I call my God to witness, that it has been my dearest 
 hope for dreary years that I might win your heart back 
 before I died." 
 
 " It is but a wreck, a hideous ruin, black with sins ; but 
 such as I am, my future, my all, I lay at your feet ! If 
 there is any efficacy in bitter repentance and remorse ; if 
 there is any mercy left in my Maker's hands ; if there be 
 saving power in human will, I will atone ! I will atone !" 
 
 The strong man trembled like a wave-lashed reed, as he 
 sank on one knee at the minister's feet, and buried his face 
 in his arms; and spreading his palms over the drooped 
 head, Mr. Hammond gently and solemnly blessed him. 
 
 For some time both were silent, and then Mr. Murray 
 stretched out one arm over the slab, and said brokenly : 
 
 " Kneeling here at Murray's tomb, a strange, incompre- 
 hensible feeling creeps into my heart. The fierce, burning 
 hate I have borne him seems to have passed away; and 
 something, ah ! something, mournfully like the old yearn- 
 ing toward him, comes back, as I look at his name. O 
 idol of my youth! hurled down and crushed by my own 
 savage hands ! For the first time since I destroyed him, 
 since I saw his handsome face whitening in death, I think 
 of him kindly. For the first time since that night, I feel 
 that — that — I can forgive him. Murray ! Murray! you wrong- 
 ed me ! you wrecked me ! but oh ! if I could give you back 
 the life I took in my madness ! how joyfully would I for- 
 give you all my injuries ! His blood dyes my hands, my 
 heart, my soul !" 
 
408 ST. ELMO. 
 
 "The blood of Jesus will wash out those stainfc. The 
 law was fully satisfied when he hung on Calvary ; there, 
 ample atonement was made for just such sins as yours, and 
 you have only to claim and plead his sufferings to secure 
 your salvation. St. Elmo, "bury your past here, in Murray's 
 grave, and give all your thoughts to the future. Half of 
 your life has ebbed out, and yet your life-work remains un- 
 done, untouched. You have no time to spend in looking 
 over your unimproved years." 
 
 " ' Bury my past !' Impossible, even for one hour. I tell 
 you I am chained to it, as the Aloides were chained to the 
 pillars of Tartarus ! and the croaking fiend that will not 
 let me sleep is memory ! Memory of sins that — that avenge 
 your wrongs, old man ! that goad me sometimes to the 
 very verge of suicide ! Do you know, ha ! how could you 
 possibly know ? Shall I tell you that only one thought has 
 often stood between me and self-destruction ? It was not 
 the fear of death, no, no, no ! It was not even the dread 
 of facing an outraged God ! but it was the horrible fear of 
 meeting Murray! Not all eternity was wide enough to 
 hold us both ! The hate I bore him made me shrink from 
 a deed which I felt would instantly set us face to face once 
 more in the land of souls. Ah ! a change has come over 
 me ; now, if I could see his face, I might learn to forget 
 that look it wore when last I gazed upon it. Time bears 
 healing for some natures ; to mine it has brought only poi- 
 son. It is useless to bid me forget. Memoiy is earth's re- 
 tribution for man's sins. I have bought at a terrible price 
 my conviction of the melancholy truth, that he who touches 
 the weapons of Nemesis effectually slaughters his own 
 peace of mind, and challenges her maledictions, from which 
 there is no escape. In my insanity I said, ' Vengeance is 
 mine ! I will repay !' and in the hour when I daringly grasp- 
 ed the prerogative of God, His curse smote me ! Mr. Ham- 
 mond, friend of my happy youth, guide of my innocent boy- 
 hood ! if you could know all the depths of my abasement, 
 
8T. ELMO. 409 
 
 you would pity me indeed ! My miserable heart is like the 
 crater of some extinct volcano ; the flames of sin have tmrn- 
 ed out, and left it rugged, rent, blackened. I do not think 
 
 that " 
 
 " St. Elmo, do not upbraid yourself so bitterly 
 
 " Sir, your words are kind and noble and full of Christian 
 charity; they are well meant, and I thank you; but they 
 can not comfort me. My desolation, my utter wretchedness 
 isolate me from the sympathy of my race, whom I have de- 
 spised and trampled so relentlessly. Yesterday I read a 
 passage which depicts so accurately my dreary isolation, 
 that I have been unable to expel it ; I find it creeping even 
 now to my lips : 
 
 " ' misery and mourning ! I have felt — 
 Yes, I have felt like some deserted world 
 That God had done with, and had cast aside 
 To rock and stagger through the gulfs of space, 
 He never looking on it any more ; 
 Untilled, no use, no pleasure, not desired, 
 Nor lighted on by angels in their flight 
 From heaven to happier planets ; and the race 
 That once hath dwelt on it withdrawn or dead. 
 Could such a world have hope that some blest day 
 God would remember her, and fashion her 
 Anew ?' " 
 
 " Yes, my dear St. Elmo, so surely as God reigns above 
 us, he will refashion it, and make the light of his pardon- 
 ing love and the refreshing dew of his grace fall upon it ! 
 And the waste places shall bloom as Sharon, and the pur- 
 pling vineyards shame Engedi, and the lilies of peace shall 
 lift up their stately heads, and the ' voice of the turtle shall 
 be heard in the land !' Have faith, grapple yourself by 
 prayer to the feet of God, and he will gird, and lift up, and 
 guide you." 
 
 Mr. Murray shook his head mournfully, and the moon- 
 light shining on his face showed it colorless, haggard, hope* 
 less. ' 
 
410 -ST- ELMO. 
 
 The pastor rose, put on his hat, and took St. Elmo's arm. 
 
 " Come home with me. This spot is fraught witn painful 
 associations that open afresh all your wounds." 
 
 They walked on together until they reached the parson- 
 age gate, and as the minister raised the latch, his compan- 
 ion gently disengaged the arm clasped to the old man's side 
 
 " Not to-night. After a few days I will try to come." 
 
 "St. Elmo, to-morrow is Sunday, and " 
 
 He paused, and did not speak the request that looked out 
 from his eyes. 
 
 It cost Mr. Murray a severe struggle, and he did not an- 
 swer immediately. When he spoke his voice was unsteady. 
 
 " Yes, I know what you wish. Once I swore I would 
 tear the church down, scatter its dust to the winds, leave 
 not a stone to mark the site ! But I will come and hear 
 you preach for the first time since that sunny Sabbath, 
 twenty years dead, when your text was, ' Oast thy bread 
 upon the waters ; for thou shalt find it after many days." 
 Sodden, and bitter, and worthless, from long tossing in the 
 great deep of sin, it drifts back at last to your feet ; and 
 instead of stooping tenderly to gather up the useless frag- 
 ments, I wonder that you do not spurn the stranded ruin 
 from you. Yes, I will come." 
 
 " Thank God ! Oh ! what a weight you have lifted from 
 my heart ! St. Elmo, my son !" 
 
 There was a long, lingering clasp of hands, and the pas- 
 tor went into his home with tears of joy on his furrowed 
 face, while his smiling lips whispered to his grateful soul : 
 
 " In the morning sow thy seed, and in the evening with- 
 hold not thy hand ; for thou knowest not whether shall pros- 
 per, either this or that, or whether they both shall be alike 
 good." 
 
 Mr. Murray watched the stooping form until it disappear- 
 ed, and then went slowly back to the silent burying-ground, 
 and sat down on the steps of the church. 
 
 Hour after hour passed and still he sat there, almost as 
 
ST. ELMO. 4U 
 
 motionless as one of the monuments, while his eyes dwelt, 
 as if spellbound, on the dark dull stain where Annie Ham- 
 mond had rested, in days long, long past ; and Remorse, 
 more potent than Erictho, evoked from the charnel house 
 the sweet girlish features and fairy figure of the early dead. 
 His pale face was propped on his hand, and there in the 
 silent watches of the moon-lighted midnight, he held com- 
 munion with God a* d his own darkened spirit. 
 
 " What hast thou wrought for Eight and Truth, 
 For God and man, 
 From the golden hours of bright-eyed youth, 
 To life's mid span 1" 
 
 His almost Satanic pride was laid low as the dead in their 
 mouldering shrouds, and ah Jie giant strength of his per« 
 verted nature was gathered up and hurled in a new direc- 
 tion. The Dead Sea Past moaned and swelled, and hitter 
 waves surged and broke over his heart, but he silently buf- 
 feted them ; and the moon rode in mid-heaven when he rose, 
 went around the church, and knelt and prayed, with hia 
 forehead pressed to the marble that covered Murray Ham- 
 mond's last resting place. 
 
 " Oh ! that the mist which veileth my To Come 
 Would, so dissolve and yield unto mine eyes 
 A worthy path ! I'd count not wearisome 
 Long toil nor enterprise, 
 
 But strain to reach it ; ay, with wrestlings stout. 
 Is there such path already made to fit 
 The measure of my foot ? It shall atone 
 For much, if I at length may light on it 
 And know it for mine own." 
 
CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 |H ! how grand and beautiful it is ! Whenever I 
 look at it, I feel exactly as I did on Easter-Sun- 
 day, when I went to the cathedral to hear the 
 music. It is a solemn feeling, as if I were in a 
 holy place. Miss Earl, what makes me feel so ?" 
 
 Felix stood in an art-gallery, and leaning on his crutches 
 looked up at Church's " Heart of the Andes." 
 
 " You are impressed by the solemnity and the holy re- 
 pose of nature ; for here you look upon a pictured cathe- 
 dral, built not by mortal hands, but by the architect of the 
 universe. Felix, does it not recall to your mind something 
 of which we often speak ?" 
 
 The boy was silent for a few seconds, and then his thin, 
 sallow face brightened. 
 
 " Yes, indeed ! You mean that splendid description 
 which you read to me from ' Modern Painters ' ? How fond 
 you are of that passage, and how very often you think of it ! 
 Let me see whether I can remember it : 
 
 Slowly yet accurately he repeated the eloquent tribute to 
 "Mountain Glory," from the fourth volume of "Modern 
 Painters," 
 
 " Felix, you know that a celebrated English poet, Keats, 
 has said, ' A thing of beauty is a joy for ever ;' and as I can 
 never hope to express my ideas in half such beautiful lan- 
 guage as Mr. Ruskin uses, it is an economy of trouble to 
 quote his words. Some of his expressions are like certain 
 songs which, the more frequently we sing them, the more 
 
ST. ELMO 413 
 
 valuable and eloquent they become ; and as we rarely learn 
 a fine piece of music to be played once or twise and then 
 thrown aside, why should we not be allowed the same privi- 
 lege with verbal melodies? Last week you asked me to 
 explain to you what is meant by ' aerial perspective,' and 
 if you will study the atmosphere in this great picture, Mr. 
 Church will explain it much more clearly to you than I was 
 able to do." 
 
 u Yes, Miss Earl, I see it now. The eye could travel up 
 and up, and on and on, and never get out of that sky ; and 
 it seems to me those birds yonder would fly entirely away, 
 out of sight, through that air in the picture. But, Misa 
 Earl, do you really believe that the Chimborazo in South- 
 America is as grand as Mr. Church's ? I do not, because 
 I have noticed that pictures are much handsomer than the 
 real things they stand for. Mamma carried me last spring 
 to see some paintings of scenes on the Hudson river, and 
 when we went travelling in the summer I saw the very 
 spot where the artist stood, when he sketched the hills and 
 the bend of the river, and it was not half so pretty as the 
 picture. And yet I know God is the greatest painter. la 
 it the far-off look that every thing wears when painted ?" 
 
 " Yes, the ' far-off look,' as you call it, is one cause of the 
 effect you wish to understand ; and it has been rather more 
 elegantly expressed by Campbell, in the line : 
 
 ' Tis distance lends enchantment to the view.' 
 
 1 have seen this fact exemplified in a very singular man- 
 ner, at a house in Georgia, where I was once visiting. 
 From the front-door I had a very fine prospect or view of 
 lofty hills, and a dense forest, and a pretty little town where 
 the steeples of the churches glittered in the sunshine, and 
 I stood for some time admiring the landscape ; but present- 
 ly, when I turned to speak to the lady of the house, I saw, 
 in the glass side-lights of the door, a miniature reflection 
 of the verv same scene that was much more beautiful. J 
 
414 *R ELMO. 
 
 was puzzled, and could not comprehend how the mere 
 fact of diminishing the size of the various objects, by in- 
 creasing the distance, could enhance their loveliness; and 
 I asked myself whether all far-off things were handsomer 
 than those close at hand ? In my perplexity I went aa 
 usual to Mr. Ruskin, wondering whether he had ever no- 
 ticed the same thing; and of course he had, and has a noble 
 passage about it in one of his books on architecture. I 
 will see if my memoiy appreciates it as it deserves: 'Are 
 not all natural things, it may be asked, as lovely near as 
 far away ? Nay, not so. Look at the clouds, and watch 
 the delicate sculpture of their alabaster sides and the round- 
 ed lustre of their magnificent rolling. They are meant 
 to be beheld far away ; they were shaped for their place, 
 high above your head ; approach them, and they fuse into 
 vague mists, or whirl away in fierce fragments of thun- 
 derous vapor.' (And here, Felix, your question about 
 Chimborr zo is answered.) ' Look at the crest of the Alps, 
 from the far-away plains over which its light is cast, whence 
 human souls have communion with it by their myriads. 
 The child looks up to it in the dawn, and the husbandman 
 in the burden and heat of the day, and the old man in the 
 going down of the sun, and it is to them all as the celestial 
 city on the world's horizon ; dyed with the depth of heaven 
 and clothed with the calm of eternity. There was it set 
 for holy dominion by Him who marked for the sun his 
 journey, and bade the moon know her going down. It 
 was built for its place in the far-off sky ; approach it, and 
 the glory of its aspect fades into blanched fearfulness; its 
 pirple walls are rent into grisly rocks, its silver fretwork 
 saddened into wasting snow ; the storm-brands of ages are 
 on its breast, the ashes of its own ruin lie solemnly on its 
 white raiment !' Felix, in rambling about the fields, you 
 will frequently l>e reminded of this. I have noticed that 
 the meadow m the distance is always greener and more vel 
 vety, and seems more thickly studded with flowers, than 
 
ST. ELMO 415 
 
 the one I am crossing ; or the hill-side far away has a gcld- 
 en gleam on its rocky slopes, and the shadow spots are 
 softer and cooler and more purple than those I am climbing 
 and panting over ; and I have hurried on, and after a little, 
 turning to look back, lo ! all the glory I saw beckoning me 
 on has flown, and settled over the meadow and the hill- 
 side that I have passed, and the halo is behind ! Perfect 
 beauty in scenery is like the mirage that you read about 
 yesterday ; it fades and flits out of your grasp, as you travel 
 toward it. When we go home I will read you something 
 which Emerson has said concerning this same lovely ignis 
 fatuus; for I can remember only a few words: 'What 
 splendid distance, what recesses of ineffable pomp and love- 
 liness in the sunset ! But who can go where they are, or 
 lay his hand, 01 plant his foot thereon ? Off they fall from 
 the round world for ever and ever.' Felix, I suppose it is 
 because we see all the imperfections and inequalities of ob- 
 jects close at hand, but the fairy film of air like a silvery 
 mist hides these when at a distance ; and we are charmed 
 with the heightened beauties, which alone are visible." 
 
 Edna's eyes went back to the painting, and rested there ; 
 and little Hattie, who had been gazing up at her governess 
 in curious perplexity, pulled her brother's sleeve and said : 
 
 " Bro' Felix, do you understand all that ? I guess I 
 don't ; for I know when I am hungry, (and seems to me I 
 always am ;) why, when I am hungry the closer I get to 
 my dinner the nicer it looks ! And then there was that 
 hateful, spiteful old Miss Abby Tompkins, that mamma 
 would have to teach you ! Ugh ! I have watched her many 
 a time coming up the street, (you know she never would 
 ride in stages for fear of pickpockets,) and she always look- 
 ed just as ugly as far off as I could see her as when she 
 came close to me " 
 
 A hearty laugh cut short Hattie's observations ; and, 
 coming forward, Sir Roger Percival put his hand on her 
 head, saying: 
 
416 ST. ELMO. 
 
 " How often children tumble down * the step from the 
 subiime to the ridiculous,' and drag staid, dignified folks 
 after them ? Miss Earl, I have been watching your little 
 party for some time, listening to your incipient art-lecture. 
 You Americans are queer people ; and when I go home I 
 shall tell Mr. Ruskin that I heard a little boy criticising 
 • The Heart of the Andes,' and quoting from ' Modern 
 Painters.' Felix, as I wish to be accurate, will you tell me 
 your age ?" 
 
 The poor sensitive cripple imagined that he was being 
 ridiculed, and he only reddened and frowned and bit his 
 thin lips. 
 
 Edna laid her hand on his shoulder, and answered £or 
 him. 
 
 " Just thirteen years old ; and though Mr. Ruskin is a 
 distinguished exception to the rule that ' prophets are not 
 without honor, save in their own country,' I think he has 
 no reader who loves and admires his writings more than 
 Felix Andrews." 
 
 Here the boy raised his eyes and asked : 
 
 " Why is it that prophets have no honor among their 
 own people ? Is it because they too have to be seen from 
 a great distance in order to seem grand ? I heard mamma 
 say the o'ther day that if some book written in America had 
 only come from England every body would be raving about 
 it." 
 
 " Some other time, Felix, we will talk of that problem 
 Hattie, you look sleepy." 
 
 " I think it will be lunch-time before we get home," re- 
 plied the yawning child. 
 
 Sir Roger took her by her shoulders, and shook her 
 gently, saying : 
 
 " Come, wake up, little sweetheart ! How can you get 
 sleepy or hungry with all these handsome pictures staring 
 at you from the walls ?" 
 
 The good-natured child laughed ; but her brother, who 
 
8T. ELMO. 41? 
 
 had an unconquerable aversion to Sir Roger's nugc whis- 
 kers, curled his lips, and exclaimed scornfully : 
 
 "Hattie, you ought to be ashamed of yourself ! Hungry, 
 
 indeed ! You are almost as bad as that English Lady — , 
 
 who, when her husband was admiring some beautiful 
 lambs, and called her attention to them, answered, 'Yes, 
 lambs are beautiful — boiled I ' " 
 
 Desirous of conciliating him, Sir Roger replied : 
 
 " When you and Hattie come to see me in England, I 
 will show you the most beautiful lambs in the United 
 Kingdom ; and your sister shall have boiled lamb three 
 times a day, if she washes it. Miss Earl, you are so fond 
 of paintings that you would enjoy a European tour more 
 than any lady whom I have met in this country. I have 
 seen mile's of canvas in Boston, New- York, and Philadel- 
 phia, but very few good pictures." 
 
 " And yet, sir, when on exhibition in Europe this great 
 work here before us received most extravagant praise from 
 trans Atlantic critics, who are very loath to accord merit to 
 American artists. If I am ever so fortunate as to be able 
 to visit Europe, and cultivate and improve my taste, I think 
 I shall still be very proud of the names of Allston, West, 
 Church, Bierstadt, Kensett, and Gifford." 
 
 She turned to quit the gallery, and Sir Roger said : 
 
 " I leave to-morrow for Canada, and may possibly sail for 
 England without returning to New-York. Will you allow 
 me the pleasure of driving you to the Park this afternoon ? 
 Two months ago you refused a similar request, but since 
 then I flatter myself we have become better friends." 
 
 "Thank you, Sir Roger I presume the children can 
 spare me, and I will go with pleasure." 
 
 " I will call at five o'clock." 
 
 He handed her and Hattie into the coupe, tenderly as- 
 sisted Felix, and saw them driven away. 
 
 Presently Felix laughed, and exclaimed : 
 
 '■* Oh ! I hope Miss Morton will be in the Park this even 
 
418 ST. ELMO. 
 
 ing: It would be glorious fun to see her meet you and Sii 
 Roger." 
 
 "Why, Felix ?" 
 
 " Oh ! because she meddles. I heard Uncle Grey tell 
 mamma that she was making desperate efforts to catch the 
 Englishman ; and that she turned up her nose tremendously 
 at the idea of his visiting you. When Uncle Grey told her 
 how often he came to our house, she bit her lips almost till 
 the blood spouted. Sir Roger drives very fine horses, 
 uncle says, and Miss Morton hints outrageously for him to 
 ask her to ride, but she can't manage to get the invitation. 
 So she will be furious when she sees you this afternoon. 
 Yonder is Goupil's ; let us stop and have a look at those 
 new engravings mamma told us about yesterday. Hattie, 
 you can curl up in your corner, and go to sleep and dream 
 of boiled lamb till we come back." 
 
 Later in the day Mrs. Andrews went up to Edna's room, 
 and found her correcting an exercise. 
 
 " At work as usual. You are incorrigible. Any other 
 woman would be so charmed with her conquest that her 
 head would be quite turned by a certain pair of brown 
 eyes that are considered irresistible. Come, get ready for 
 your drive ; it is almost' five o'clock, and you know foreign- 
 ers are too polite, too thoroughly well-bred not to be punc- 
 tual. No, no, Miss Earl ; not that hat, on the peril of your 
 life ! Where is that new one that I ordered sent up to you 
 two days ago? It will match this delicate white shawl of 
 mine, which I brought up for you to wear ; and come, no 
 scruples if you please ! Stand up and let me see whether 
 its folds hang properly. You should have heard Madame 
 
 De G when she put it around my shoulders for the 
 
 first time, ' Juste del ! Madame Andrews, you are a Greek 
 statue !' Miss Earl, put your hair back a little from the 
 left temple. There, now the veins show ! Where are your 
 gloves ? You look charmingly, my dear ; only too pale, 
 too pale ! If you don't contrive to get up some color, people 
 
8T. ELMC, 419 
 
 will swear that Sir Roger was airing the ghost of a pretty 
 girl. There is the bell ! Just as I told you, he is punctual. 
 Five o'clock to a minute." 
 
 She stepped to the window, and looked down at the 
 equipage before the door. 
 
 " What superb horses ! You will be the envy of the 
 city." 
 
 There was something in the appearance and manner of 
 Sir Roger which often reminded Edna of Gordon Leigh ; 
 and during the spring he visited her so constantly, sent her 
 so frequently baskets of elegant flowers, that he succeeded 
 in overcoming her reticence, and established himself on an 
 exceedingly friendly footing in Mrs. Andrews's house. 
 
 Now, as they drove along the avenue and entered the 
 Park, their spirits rose ; and Sir Roger turned very often 
 to look at the fair face of his companion, which he found 
 more and more attractive each day. He saw too that under 
 his earnest gaze the faint color deepened, until her cheeks 
 glowed like sea-shells ; and when he spoke he bent his face 
 much nearer to hers than was necessary to make her hear 
 his words. They talked of books, flowers, music, mountain 
 scenery, and the green lanes of " Merry England." Edna 
 was perfectly at ease, and in a mood to enjoy every thing. 
 
 They dashed on, and the sunlight disappeared, and the 
 gas glittered all over the city before Sir Roger turned his 
 horses' heads homeward. When they reached Mrs. An- 
 drews's door he dismissed his carriage and spent the even- 
 ing. At eleven o'clock he rose to say good-bye. 
 
 " Miss Earl, I hope I shall have the pleasure of renewing 
 our acquaintance at an early day ; if not in America in 
 Europe. The brightest reminiscences I shall carry across 
 the ocean are those that cluster about the hours I have 
 spent with you. If I should not return to New-York, will 
 you allow me the privilege of hearing from you occasion- 
 ally?" 
 
 His clasp of the girl's hand was close, but she withdrew 
 it, and her face flushed painfully as she answered : 
 
420 ST. ELMO. 
 
 " You will excuse me, Sir Roger, when I tell yoi. that 1 
 am so constantly occupied I have not time to write even to 
 my old and dearest friends." 
 
 Passing the door of Felix's room, on her way to her owp 
 apartment, the boy called to her : u Miss Earl, are you very 
 tired ?" 
 
 " Oh ! no. Do you want any thing ?" 
 
 u My head aches, and I can't go to sleep. Please read to 
 me a little while." 
 
 He raised himself on his elbow, and looked up fondly at 
 her. 
 
 "Ah ! how very pretty you are to-night ! Kiss me, won't 
 you ?" 
 
 She stooped and kissed the poor parched lips, and as she 
 opened a volume of the Waverley Novels, he said : 
 
 " Did you see Miss Morton ?" 
 
 " Yes ; she was on horseback, and we passed her twice." 
 
 " Glad of it ! She does not like you. I guess she finds 
 it as hard to get to sleep to-night as I do." 
 
 Edna commenced reading, and it was nearly an hour be- 
 fore Felix's eyes closed, and his fingers relaxed their grasp 
 of hers. Softly she put the book back on the shelf, extin- 
 guished the light, and stole up-stairs to her desk. That 
 night, as Sir Roger tossed restlessly on his pillow, thinking 
 of her, recalling all that she had said during the drive, he 
 would not have been either comforted or flattered by a 
 knowledge of the fact that she was so entirely engrossed 
 by her ms. that she had no thought of him or his impending 
 departure. 
 
 When the clock struck three she laid down her pen ; and 
 the mournful expression that crept into her eyes told that 
 memory was busy with the past yeaij. When she fell 
 asleep she dreamed not of Sir Roger but of Le Bocage and 
 its master, of whom she would not permit herself to think 
 in her waking hours. 
 
 The influence which Mr. Manning exerted over Edna in 
 
JST. ELMO. 42] 
 
 creased as their acquaintance ripened; and the admiring 
 reverence with which she regarded the editor was exceed- 
 ingly flattering to him. With curious interest he watched 
 the expansion of her mind, and now and then warned her 
 of some error into which she seemed inclined to plunge, or 
 wisely advised some new branch of research. 
 
 So firm was her confidence in his mature and dispassion 
 ate judgment, that she yielded to his opinions a deferential 
 homage, such as she had scarcely paid even to Mr. Ham- 
 mond. 
 
 Gradually and unconsciously she learned to lean upon his 
 strong, clear mind, and to find in his society a quiet but 
 very precious happiness. The antagonism of their charac- 
 ters was doubtless one cause of the attraction which each 
 found in the other, and furnished the balance-wheel which 
 both required. 
 
 Edna's intense and dreamy idealism demanded a check, 
 which the positivism of the editor supplied ; and his exten- 
 sive and rigidly accurate information, on almost all scientific 
 topics, constituted a valuable thesaurus of knowledge to 
 which he never denied her access. 
 
 His faith in Christianity was like his conviction of the 
 truth of mathematics, more an intellectual process and the 
 careful deduction of logic than the result of some emotional 
 impulse ; his religion like his dialectics was cold, consistent, 
 irreproachable, unanswerable. Never seeking a controversy 
 on any subject he never shunned one, and, during its con- 
 tinuance, his demeanor was invariably courteous but un- 
 yielding, and even when severe he was rarely bitter. 
 
 Very early in life his intellectual seemed to have swal- 
 lowed up his emotional nature, as Aaron's rod did those of 
 the magicians of Pharaoh, and only the absence of dogma- 
 tism, and the habitual suavity of his manner atoned for hia 
 unbending obstinacy on all points. 
 
 Edna's fervid and beautiful enthusiasm surged and chafed 
 and broke over this man's stern, flinty realism, like the 
 
±22 ST - ELM 0- 
 
 warm, blue waters of the Gulf Stream that throw ihtir 
 silvery spray and foam against the glittering walls of sap- 
 phire icebergs sailing slowly southward. Her glowing im- 
 agery fell upon the bristling points of his close phalanx oi 
 arguments, as gorgeous tropical garlands caught and em- 
 paled by bayonets until they faded. 
 
 Merciless as an anatomical lecturer, he would smilingly 
 take up one of her metaphors and dissect it, and over the 
 pages of her mss. for " Maga " his gravely spoken criticisms 
 fell withering as hoar-frost. 
 
 They differed in all respects, yet daily they felt the need 
 of each other's society. The frozen man of forty sunned 
 himself in the genial presence of a lovely girl of nineteen, 
 and in the dawn of her literary career she felt a sense of 
 security from his proffered guidance, even as a wayward 
 and ambitious child, just learning to walk, totters along 
 with less apprehension when the strong, steady hand it re- 
 fuses to hold is yet near enough to catch and save from a 
 serious fall. 
 
 While fearlessly attacking all heresy, whether political, 
 scientific, or ethical, all latitudinarianism in manners and 
 sciolism in letters, he commanded the confidence and esteem 
 of all, and became in great degree the centre around which 
 the savants and literati of the city revolved. 
 
 Through his influence Edna made the acquaintance of 
 some of the most eminent scholars and artists who formed 
 this clique, and she found that his friendship and recom- 
 mendation was an " open sesame " to the charmed circle. 
 
 One Saturday Edna sat with her bonnet on, waiting for 
 Mr. Manning, who had promised to accompany her on her 
 first visit to Greenwood, and, as she put on her gloves, Fe- 
 lix handed her a letter which his father had just brought up. 
 
 Recognizing Mrs. Murray's writing the governess read it 
 immediately, and, while her eyes ran over the sheet, an ex- 
 pression, first of painful then of joyful surprise, came inte 
 her countenance. 
 
ST. ELMO 428 
 
 "My dear child, doubtless you will be amazed to hear 
 that your quondam lover has utterly driven your image 
 from his fickle heart ; and that he ignores your existence as 
 completely as if you were buried twenty feet in the ruins 
 of Herculaneum. Last night Gordon Leigh was married to 
 Gertrude Powell, and the happy pair, attended by that de- 
 spicable mother, Agnes Powell, will set out for Europe 
 early next week. My dear, it is growing fashionable to 
 4 marry for spite.' I have seen two instances recently, and 
 know of a third which will take place ere long. Poor Gor- 
 don will rue his rashness, and, before the year expires, he 
 will arrive at the conclusion that he is an unmitigated fool, 
 and has simply performed, with great success, an operation 
 familiarly known as cutting off one's nose to spite one's 
 face ! Your rejection of his renewed offer piqued him be- 
 yond expression, and wdien he returned from New- York he 
 was in exactly the most accommodating frame of mind 
 which Mrs. Powell could desire. She immediately laid 
 siege to him. Gertrude's undisguised preference for his so- 
 ciety was extremely soothing to his vanity which you had 
 so severely wounded, and in fine, the indefatigable ma- 
 noeuvres of the wily mamma, and the continual flattery of 
 the girl, who is really very pretty, accomplished the result. 
 I once credited Gordon with more sense than he has mani- 
 fested, but each year convinces me more firmly of the truth 
 of my belief that no man is proof against the subtle and 
 persistent flattery of a beautiful woman. When he an- 
 nounced his engagement to me, we were sitting in the libra- 
 ry, and I looked him full in the face, and answered : ' In- 
 deed ! Engaged to Miss Powell ? I thought you swci m e 
 that so long as Edna Earl remained unmarried you would 
 never relinquish your suit ?' He pointed to that lovely 
 statuette of Pallas that stands on the mantelpiece, and said 
 bitterly, ' Edna Earl has no more heart than that marble 
 Athena.' Whereupon I replied, 'Take care, Gordon, I 
 notice that of late you seem inclined to deal rather too 
 
424 ST. ELMO. 
 
 freely iu hyperbole. Edna's heart may resemlile the rich 
 veins of gold, which in some mines run not near the surface 
 but deep in the masses of quartz. Because you can not ob- 
 tain it, you Lave no right to declare that it does not exist. 
 You will probably live to hear some more fortunate suitor 
 shout Eureka! over the treasure.' He turned pale as the 
 Pallas and put his hand over his face. Then I said, ' Gor- 
 don, my young friend, I have always been deeply interested 
 in your happiness ; tell me frankly, do you love this girl 
 Gertrude ?' He seemed much embarrassed, but finally 
 made his confession : ' Mrs. Murray, I believe I shall be 
 fond of her after a while. She is very lovely, and deeply, 
 deeply attached to me, (vanity you see, Edna,) and I am 
 grateful for her affection. She will brighten my lonely 
 home, and at least I can be proud of her rare beauty. But 
 I never expect to love any woman as I loved Edna Earl. I 
 can pet Gertrude, I should have worshipped my first love, 
 my proud, gifted, peerless Edna ! Oh ! she will never real- 
 ize all she threw away when she coldly dismissed me.' Poor 
 Gordon ! Well, he is married ; but his bride might have 
 found cause of disquiet in his restless, abstracted manner on 
 the evening of his wedding. -What do you suppose was St. 
 Elmo's criticism on this matrimonial mismatch ? ' Poor 
 devil ! Before a year rolls over his Iread he will feel like 
 plunging into the Atlantic,with Plymouth Rock for a neck- 
 lace ! Leigh deserves a better fate, and I would rather see 
 him tied to wild horses and dragged across the Andes.' 
 These pique marriages are terrible mistakes ; so, my dear, I 
 trust you will duly repent of your cruelty to poor Gor- 
 don." 
 
 As Edna put the letter in her pocket, she wondered 
 whether Gertrude really loved her husband, or whether 
 chagrin at Mr. Murray's heartless desertion had not goaded 
 the girl to accept Mr. Leigh. 
 
 " Perhaps, after all, Mr. Murray was correct in his esti« 
 mate of her character, when he said that she was a mere 
 
ST. ELMO. 425 
 
 child, and was capable of no very earnest affection. I t ope 
 so — I hope so." 
 
 Edna sighed as she tried to assure herself of the proba- 
 bility that the newly married pair would become more at- 
 tached as time passed ; and her thoughts returned to that 
 paragraph in Mrs. Murray's letter which seemed intention- 
 ally mysterious, " I know of a third instance which will 
 take place ere long." 
 
 Did she allude to her son and her niece ? Edna could 
 not believe this possible, and shook her head at the sugges- 
 tion ; but her lips grew cold, and her fingers locked each 
 other as in a clasp of steel. 
 
 When Mr. Manning called, and assisted her into the car- 
 riage, he observed an unusual preoccupancy of mind; but 
 after a few desultory remarks she rallied, gave him her un- 
 divided attention, and seemed engrossed by his conversation. 
 
 It was a fine, sunny day, bright but cool, with a fresh 
 and stiffening west wind rippling the waters of the harbor. 
 
 The week had been one of unusual trial, for Felix was 
 sick, and even more than ordinarily fretful and exacting ; 
 and weary of writing and of teaching so constantly, the 
 governess enjoyed the brief season of emancipation. 
 
 Mr. Manning's long residence in the city had familiarized 
 him with the beauties of Greenwood, and the history of 
 many who slept dreamlessly in the costly mausoleums 
 which they paused to examine and admire ; and when at 
 last he directed the driver to return, Edna sank back in one 
 corner of the carriage and said : " Sc me morning I will 
 come with the children and spend the entire day." 
 
 She closed her eyes, and her thoughts travelled swiftly to 
 that pure white obelisk standing in the shadow of Lookout ; 
 and melancholy memories brought a sigh to her lips and a 
 slight cloud to the face that for two hours past had been sin- 
 gularly bright and animated. The silence had lasted some 
 minutes, when Mr. Manning, who was gazing abstractedly 
 out of the window, turned to his companion and said: 
 
426 ST. ELMO. 
 
 " You look pale and badly to-day." 
 
 " I have not felt as strong as usual, and it is a gre^t tieat 
 to get away from the school-room and out into the open air, 
 which is bracing and delightful. I believe I have enjoyed 
 this ride more than any I have taken since I came North ; 
 and you must allow me to tell you how earnestly I thank 
 you for your considerate remembrance of me." 
 
 " Miss Earl, what I am about to say will perhaps seem 
 premature, and will doubtless surprise you; but I beg you 
 to believe that it is the result of mature deliberation " 
 
 He paused and looked earnestly at her. 
 
 " You certainly have not decided to give up the editor- 
 ship of ' Maga,' as you spoke of doing last winter ? It 
 would not survive your desertion six months." 
 
 " My allusion was to yourself, not to the magazine, which 
 I presume I shall edit as long as I live. Miss Earl, this 
 state of affairs can not' continue. You have no regard for 
 your health, which is suffering materially, and you are de- 
 stroying yourself. You must let me take care of you, and 
 save you from the ceaseless toil in which you are rapidly 
 wearing out your life. To teach, as you do, all day, and 
 then sit up nearly all night to write, would exhaust a con- 
 stitution of steel or brass. You are probably not aware of 
 the great change which has taken place in your appearance 
 during the last three months. Hitherto circumstances may 
 have left you no alternative, bxit one is now offered you. 
 My property is sufficient to render you comfortable. I have 
 already purchased a pleasant home, to which I shall remove 
 next week, and I want you to share it with me — to share 
 my future — all that I have. You have known me scarcely 
 a year, but you are not a stranger to my character or posi- 
 tion, and I think that you repose implicit confidence in me. 
 Notwithstanding the unfortunate disparity in our years, 
 I believe we are becoming mutually dependent on each 
 other, and in your society I find a charm such as no other 
 human being possesses ; though I have no right to expect 
 
ST. ELMO. 427 
 
 (hat a girl of your age can derive equal pleasure from tha 
 companionship of a man old enough to be her father 1 o,rn 
 not demonstrative, but my feelings are warm and deep ; 
 and however incredulous you may be, I assure you that you 
 ai*e the first, the only woman I have ever asked to be my 
 wife. I have known many who were handsome and intel 
 lectual, whose society I have really enjoyed, but not one, 
 until I met you, whom I would have married. To you alone 
 am I willing to intrust the education of my little Lila. She 
 was but six months old when we were wrecked off Barne- 
 gat, and, in attempting to save his wife, my brother was 
 lost. With the child in my arms I clung to a spar, and 
 finally swam ashore ; and since then, regarding her as a sa- 
 cred treasure committed to my guardianship, I have faith- 
 fully endeavored to supply her father's place. There is a 
 singular magnetism about you, Edna Earl, which makes 
 me wish to see your face always at my hearthstone ; and 
 for the first time in my life I want to say to the world, 
 * This woman wears my name, and belongs to me for ever !' 
 You are inordinately ambitious ; I can lift you to a position 
 that will fully satisfy you, and place you above the neces- 
 sity of daily labor — a position of happiness and ease, where 
 your genius can properly develop itself. Can you consent 
 to be Douglass Manning's wife ?" 
 
 There was no more tremor in his voice than in the mea- 
 sured beat of a base drum ; and in his granite face not a 
 feature moved, not a muscle twitched, not a nerve quivered. 
 
 So entirely unexpected was this proposal that Edna could 
 not utter a word. The idea that he could ever wish to 
 marry any body seemed incredible, and that he should need 
 her society, appeared utterly absurd. For an instant she 
 wondered if she had fallen asleep in the soft, luxurious cor- 
 ner of the carriage, and dreamed it all. 
 
 Completely bewildered, she sat looking wonderingly at 
 him. 
 
 " Miss Earl, you do not seem to comprehend me, and yet 
 
428 ST. ELMO. 
 
 my words are certainly very explicit. Once mere I ask 
 you, can you put your hand in mine and be my wife ?" 
 
 lie laid one hand on hers, and with the other pushed 
 hack his glasses. 
 
 Withdrawing her hands, she covered her face with them, 
 aud answered almost inaudibly : 
 
 " Let me think — for you astonish me." 
 
 " Take a day, or a week, if necessary, for consideration, 
 and then give me your answer." 
 
 Mi*. Manning leaned back in the carriage, folded his 
 hands over each other, and looked quietly out of the win- 
 dow ; and for a half hour silence reigned. 
 
 Brief but severe was the struggle in Edna's heart. Prob- 
 ably no woman's literary vanity and ambition has ever 
 been more fully gratified than was hers, by this most un- 
 expected offer of marriage from one whom she had been 
 taught to regard as the noblest ornament of the profession 
 she had selected. Thinking of the hour when she sat 
 alone, shedding tears of mortification and bitter disappoint- 
 ment over his curt letter rejecting her ms., she glanced at 
 the stately form beside her, the mysteriously calm, com- 
 manding face, the large white, finely moulded hands, wait- 
 ing to clasp hers for all time, and her triumph seemed 
 complete. 
 
 To rule the destiny of that strong man, whose intellect 
 was so influential in the world of letters, was a conquest 
 of which, until this hour, she had never dreamed ; and the 
 blacksmith's darling was, after all, a mere woman, and the 
 honor dazzled her. 
 
 To one of her peculiar temperament wealth offered no 
 temptation ; but Douglass Manning had climbed to a 
 grand eminence, and, looking up at it, she knew that any 
 woman might well be proud to share it. 
 
 He filled her ideal, he came fully up to her lofty moral 
 and mental standard. She knew that his superior she 
 could never hope to meet, and her confidence in his nobil- 
 ity of character was boundless. 
 
ST. ELMO. 429 
 
 She felt that his society had become necessary to her 
 peace of mind ; for only in his presence was it possible to 
 forget her past. Either she must marry him, or live single, 
 and work and die — alone. 
 
 To a girl of nineteen the latter alternative seems more 
 appalling than to a woman of thirty, whose eyes have 
 grown strong in the gray, cold, sunless light of confirmed 
 old-maidenhood ; even as the vision of those who live in 
 dim caverns requires not the lamps, needed by new-comers 
 fresh from the dazzling outer world. 
 
 Edna was weary of battling with precious memories of 
 
 . that reckless, fascinating cynic whom, without trusting, 
 
 she had learned to love ; and she thought that, perhaps, if 
 
 she were the wife of Mr. Manning, whom without loving 
 
 she fully trusted, it would help her to forget St. Elmo. 
 
 She did not deceive herself; she knew that, despite her 
 struggles and stern interdicts, she loved him as she could 
 never hope to love any one else-. Impatiently she said to 
 herself: 
 
 " Mr. Murray is as old as Mr. Manning, and in the esti- 
 mation of the public is his inferior. Oh ! why can not my 
 weak, wayward heart follow my strong, clear-eyed judg- 
 ment ? I would give ten years of my life to love Mr. Man- 
 ning as I love " 
 
 She compared a swarthy, electrical face, scowling and 
 often repulsively harsh, with one cloudless and noble, over 
 which brooded a solemn and perpetual peace ; and she 
 almost groaned aloud in her chagrin and self-contempt, as 
 she thought, "Surely, if ever a woman was infatuated — 
 possessed by an evil spirit — I certainly am." 
 
 In attempting to institute a parallel between the two 
 men, one seemed serene, majestic, and pure as the vast 
 snow-dome of Oraefa, glittering in the chill light of mid- 
 summer-midnight suns ; the other fiery, thunderous, de- 
 structive as Izalco — one moment crowned with flames and 
 lava-lashed — the next wrapped in gloom and dust and 
 ashes. 
 
480 ST. ELMO. 
 
 While, she sat there wrestling as she had ne\ er done be- 
 fore, even on that day of trial in the church, memory, as if 
 leagued with Satan, brought up the image of Mr. Murray 
 as he stood pleading for himself, for his future. She heard 
 once more his thrilling, passionate cry, " O my darling ! 
 my dai-ling ! come to me !" And pressing her face to the 
 aning of the carriage to stifle a groan, she seemed to feel 
 again the close clasp of his arms, the throbbing of his heart 
 against her cheek, the warm, tender, lingering pressure of 
 his lips on hers. 
 
 When they had crossed the ferry and were rattling over 
 the streets of New- York, Edna took her hands from her 
 eyes ; and there was a rigid paleness in her face and a 
 mournful hollowness in her voice, as she said almost 
 sternly : 
 
 " No, Mr. Manning ! We do not love each other, and I 
 can never be your wife. It is useless for me to assure you 
 that I am flattered by your preference ; that I am inex- 
 pressibly proud of the distinction you have generously 
 offered to confer upon me. Sir, you can not doubt that I 
 do most fully and gratefully appreciate this honor, which I 
 had neither the right to expect nor the presumption tc 
 dream of. My reverence and admiration are, I confess, 
 almost boundless, but I find not one atom of love ; and an 
 examination of my feelings satisfies me that I could never 
 yield you that homage of heart, that devoted affection 
 which God demands that every wife should pay her hus- 
 band. You have quite as little love for me. We enjoy 
 each other's society because our pursuits are similar, our 
 tastes congenial, our aspirations identical. In pleasant and 
 profitable companionship we can certainly indulge as here' 
 tofore, and it would greatly pain me to be deprived of it 
 in future ; but this can be ours without the sinful mockery 
 of a marriage — for sxxch I hold a loveless union. I feel that 
 I must have your esteem and your society, but your love I 
 neither desire nor ever expect to possess; for the sentiments 
 
ST. JULMO. 431 
 
 you cherish for me are precisely similar to those which 1 
 entertain toward you. Mr. Manning, we shall always be 
 firm friends, but nothkg more." 
 
 An expression of surprise and disappointment drifted 
 across, but did not settle on the editor's quiet countenance. 
 
 Turning to her, he answered with grave gentleness : 
 
 " Judge your own heart, Edna ; and accept my verdict 
 with reference to mine. Do you suppose that after living 
 single all these years I would ultimately marry a woman 
 for whom I had no affection ? You spoke last week of the 
 mirror of John Galeazzo Visconte, which showed his be- 
 loved Correggia her own image ; and though I am a proud 
 and reticent man, I beg you to believe that could you look 
 into my heart you would find it such a mirror. Permit me 
 to ask whether you intend to accept the love which I have 
 reason to believe Mr. Murray has offered you ?" 
 
 " Mr. Manning, I never expect to marry any one, for I 
 know that I shall never meet your superior, and yet I can 
 not accept your most flattering offer. You fill all my re- 
 quirements of noble, Christian manhood ; but after to-day 
 this subject must not be alluded to." 
 
 "Are you not too hasty ? Will you not take more time 
 for reflection ? Is your decision mature and final ?" 
 
 " Yes, Mr. Manning — final, unchangeable. But do not 
 throw me from you! I am very, very lonely, and you 
 surely will not forsake me ?" 
 
 There were tears in her eyes as she looked up pleadingly 
 in his face, and the editor sighed and paused a moment 
 before he replied : 
 
 " Edna, if under any circumstances you feel that I can 
 aid or advise you, I shall be exceedingly glad to reniei 
 all the assistance in my power. Rest assured I shall not 
 forsake you as long as we both shall live. Call upon me 
 without hesitation, and I will respond as readily and 
 promptly as to the claims of my little Lila. In my heart 
 you are associated with her. You must not tax yourself 
 
432 ST - ELMO. 
 
 so unremittingly, or you will soon ruin your constitution. 
 There is a weariness in your face and a languor in youi 
 manner mournfully prophetic of failing health. Either give 
 up your situation as governess or abandon your writing. I 
 certainly recommend the former, as I can not spare you 
 from ' Maga,' " 
 
 Here the carriage stopped at Mrs. Andrews's door, and 
 as he handed her out Mr. Manning said : 
 
 " Edna, my friend, promise me that you will not write 
 to-night." 
 
 " Thank you, Mr. Manning ; I promise." 
 
 She did not go to her desk ; but Felix was restless, fever- 
 ish, querulous, and it was after midnight when she laid her 
 head on her pillow. The milkmen in their noisy carts were 
 clattering along the streets next morning, before her heavy 
 eyelids closed, and she fell into a brief, troubled slumber; 
 over which flitted a Fata Morgana of dreams, where the 
 central figure was always that tall one whom she had seen 
 last standing at the railroad depot, with the rain dripping 
 3Ter him. 
 
CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 ET thy abundant blessing rest upon it, O Al- 
 mighty God ! else indeed my labor will be in 
 vain. ' Paul planted, Apollos watered,' but thou 
 only can give the increase. It is finished : look 
 down in mercy, and sanctify it, and accept it." 
 
 The night was almost spent when Edna laid down her 
 pen, and raised her clasped hands over the MS., which she 
 had just completed. 
 
 For many weary months she had toiled to render it wor- 
 thy of its noble theme, had spared neither time nor severe 
 trains of thought ; by day and by night she had searched 
 and pondered ; she had prayed fervently and ceaselessly, 
 and worked arduously, unflaggingly, to accomplish this dar- 
 ling hope of her heart, to embody successfully this ambi- 
 tious dream, and at last the book was finished. 
 
 The manuscript was a mental tapestry, into which she 
 had woven exquisite shades of thought, and curious and 
 quaint, devices and rich, glowing imagery that flecked 
 the groundwork with purple and amber and gold. 
 
 But would the design be duly understood and appreci- 
 ated by the great, busy, bustling world, for whose amuse- 
 ment and improvement she had labored so assiduously at 
 the spinning-wheels of fancy — the loom of thought ? 
 Would her fellow-creatures accept it in the earnest, loving 
 spirit in which it had been manufactured? Would they 
 hang this Gobelin of her brain along the walls of mem- 
 ory, and turn to it tenderly, reading reverently its ciphers 
 
484 ST - ELMO. 
 
 and its illuminations ; or would fa be rent and ridiculed, 
 and trampled under foot ? This book w.'/s a shrine to 
 which her purest thoughts, her holiest aspirations travelled 
 like pilgrims, offering the best of which her nature wag 
 capable. "Would those for whom she had patiently chiselled 
 and built it guard and prize and keep it; or smite and 
 overturn and defile it ? 
 
 Looking down at the mass of ms. now ready for the 
 printer, a sad, tender, yearning expression filled the au- 
 thor's eyes ; and her little white hands passed caressingly 
 over its closely-written pages, as a mother's soft fingers 
 might lovingly stroke the face of a child about to be thrust 
 out into a hurrying crowd of cold, indifferent strangers, 
 who perhaps would rudely jeer at and brow-beat her dar- 
 ling. 
 
 For several days past Edna had labored assiduously to 
 complete the book, and now at last she could fold her tired 
 hands, and rest her weary brain. 
 
 But outraged nature suddenly swore vengeance, and her 
 overworked nerves rose in fierce rebellion, refusing to be 
 calm. She had so long anticipated this hour that its arrival 
 was greeted by emotions beyond her control. As she con- 
 cemplated the possible future of that pile of ms., her heart 
 bounded madly, and then once more* a fearful agony seized 
 her, and darkness and a sense of suffocation came upon her. 
 Rising, she strained her eyes and groped her way toward 
 the window, but ere she reached it fell, and lost all con- 
 sciousness. 
 
 The sound of the fall, the crash of a china vase which 
 her hand had swept from the table, echoed startlingly 
 through the silent house, and aroused some of its inmates. 
 Mrs. Andrews ran up stairs and into Felix's room, saw that 
 he was sleeping soundly, and then she hastened up another 
 flight of steps, to the apartment occupied by the governess. 
 The gas burned dazzingly over the table whpre rested the 
 rolls of MS., and on the. floor near the window lay Edna. 
 
ST KHMO. 4S5 
 
 Ringing the bell furiously to summon her husband and 
 the servants, Mrs. Andrews knelt, raised the girl's head, 
 and rubbing her cold hands, tried to rouse her. The heart 
 beat faintly, and seemed to stop now and then, and the 
 white, rigid face was as ghastly as if the dread kiss of Sam- 
 ael had indeed been pressed upon her still lips. 
 
 Finding all her restoratives ineffectual, Mrs. Andrews sent 
 her husband for the family physician, and with the assist- 
 ance of the servants, laid the girl on her bed. 
 
 When the doctor arrived and questioned her, she could 
 furnish no clew to the cause of the attack, save by pointing 
 to the table, where pen and paper showed that the sufferer 
 had been at work. 
 
 Edna opened her eyes at last, and looked around at the 
 group of anxious faces, but in a moment the spasm of pain 
 returned. Twice she muttered something, and putting his 
 ear close to her mouth, the doctor heard her whispering to 
 herself: 
 
 " Never mind ; it is done at last ! Now I can rest." 
 
 An hour elapsed before the paroxysms entirely subsided, 
 and then, with her ivory-like hands clasped and thrown xip 
 over her head, the governess slept heavily, dreamlessly. 
 
 For two days she remained in her own apartment, and 
 on the morning of the third came down to the school-room, 
 with a slow, weary step and a bloodless face, and a feeling 
 of hopeless helplessness. 
 
 She dispatched her MS. to the publisher to whom she had 
 resolved to offer it, and, leaning far back in her chair, took 
 up Felix's Greek grammar. 
 
 Since the days of Dionysius Thrax, it had probably never 
 appeared so tedious, so intolerably tiresome, as she found 
 it now, and she felt relieved, almost grateful, when Mrs. 
 Andrews sent for her to come to the library, where Dr. 
 Howell was waiting to see her. 
 
 Seating himself beside her, the physician examined he* 
 oountenance and pulse, and put his ear close to her heart. 
 
436 ST. ELMO. 
 
 "Miss Earl, have you had many si en attacks as thi one 
 whose effects have not yet passed away ?" 
 
 " This is the second time I have suffered so severely ; 
 though very frequently I find a disagreeable fluttering 
 about my heart, which is not very painful." 
 
 " "What mode of treatment have you been following ?" 
 
 " None, sir. I have never consulted a physician." 
 \ " Humph ! Is it possible ?" 
 
 He looked at her with the keen incisive eye of his pro- 
 fession, and pressed his ear once more to her heart, listen- 
 ing to the irregular and rapid pulsations. 
 
 " Miss Earl, are you an orphan ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " Have you any living relatives ?" 
 
 " None that I ever heard of." 
 
 " Did any of your family die suddenly ?" 
 
 " Yes, I have been told that my mother died while ap- 
 parently as well as usual, and engaged in spinning; and 
 my grandfather I found dead, sitting in his rocking-chair, 
 6moking his pipe." 
 
 Dr. Howell cleared his throat, sighed, and was silent. 
 
 He saw a strange, startled expression leap into the large 
 shadowy eyes, and the mouth quivered, and the wan face 
 grew whiter, and the thin fingers grasped each other ; but 
 she said nothing, and they sat looking at one another. 
 
 The physician had come like Daniel to the banquet of 
 life, and solved for the Belshazzar of youth the hideous 
 riddle scrawled on the walls. 
 
 " Dr. Howell, can you do nothing for me ?" 
 
 Her voice had sunk to a whisper, and she leaned eagerly 
 forward to oatch his answer. 
 
 "Miss Earl, do you know what is meant by hypertrophy 
 of the heart ?" 
 
 " Yes, yes, I know." 
 
 She shivered slightly. 
 
 " "Whether you inherited yotir disease, I am not prepared 
 
ST. ELMO. 437 
 
 to say, but certainly m your case there are some grounds 
 for the belief." 
 
 Presently she said abstractedly : 
 
 " But grandpa lived to be an old man." 
 
 The doctor's eyes fell upon the mosaic floor of the libra* 
 ry ; and then she knew that he could give her no hope. 
 
 When at last he looked up again, he saw that she had 
 dropped her face in her palms, and he was awed by the 
 deathlike repose of her figure, the calm fortitude she evinced. 
 
 "Miss Earl, I never deceive my patients. It is useless 
 to dose you with medicine, and drug you into semi-insensi- 
 bility. You must have rest and quiet ; rest for mind as 
 well as body ; there must be no more teaching or writing. 
 You are over-worked, and incessant mental labor has has 
 tened the approach of a disease which, under other circum- 
 stances, might have encroached very slowly and impercep- 
 tibly. If latent (which is barely possible) it has contrib- 
 uted to a fearfully rapid development. Refrain from study, 
 avoid all excitement, exercise moderately but regularly in 
 the open air; and, above all things, do not tax your brain. 
 If you carefully observe these directions, you may live to 
 be as old as your grandfather. Heart diseases baffle proph- 
 ecy, and I make no predictions." 
 
 He rose and took his hat from the table. 
 
 " Miss Earl, I have read your writings with great pleas- 
 ure, and watched your brightening career with more in- 
 terest than I ever felt in any other female author ; and God 
 knows it is exceedingly painful for me to tear away the 
 veil from your eyes. From the first time you were pointed 
 out to me in church, I saw that in your couutenance which 
 distressed and alarmed me ; for its marble pallor whispered 
 that your days were numbered. Frequently I have been 
 tempted to come and expostulate with you, but I knew it 
 would be useless. You have no reader who would more 
 earnestly deplore the loss of your writings, but, for your 
 own sake, I beg you to Ihrow away your pen and rest." 
 
43 S ST. ELMO. 
 
 She raised her head and a faint smile ci tpt feebly across 
 her face. 
 
 " Rest ! rest ! If my time is so short I can not afford to 
 rest. There is so much to do, so much that I have planned 
 and hoped to accomplish. I am only beginning to leam 
 how to handle my tools, my life-work is as yet barely begun 
 Whm my long rest overtakes me, I must not be found idle 
 sitting with folded hands. Since I was thirteen yearp, old 
 I have never once rested ; and now I am afraid I never shall. 
 I would rather die working than live a drone." 
 
 " But, my dear Miss Earl, those who love you have claims 
 upon you." 
 
 " I am alone in this world. I have no family to love me, 
 and my work is to me what I suppose dear relatives must 
 be to other women. For six years I have been studying 
 to tit myself for usefulness, have lived with and for books ; 
 and though I have a few noble and kind friends, do you 
 suppose I ever forget that I am kinless ? It is a mournful 
 tiling to know that you are utterly isolated among millions 
 of human beings ; that not a drop of your blood flows in 
 any other veins. My God only has a claim upon me. Dr. 
 Howell, I thank you for your candor. It is best that I 
 should know the truth ; and I am glad that, instead of treat- 
 ing me like a child, you have frankly told me all. More 
 than once I have had a singular feeling, a shadowy present- 
 iment that I should not live to be an old woman, bat I 
 thought it the relic of childish superstition, and I did not 
 imagine that — that I might be called away at any instant. 
 I did not suspect that just as I had arranged my workshop, 
 and sharpened all my tools, and measured off my work, 
 that my morning sun would set suddenly in the glowing 
 east, and the long, cold night fall upon me, ' wherein no man 
 can work ' " 
 
 Her voice faltered, and the physician turned away, and 
 looked out of the window. 
 
 " I am not afraid of death, nor am I so wrapped up w 
 
ST. ELMO. 439 
 
 the mere happiness which this world gives; nc no; tint '2 
 love my work ! Ah ! I want to live long enough to finish 
 something grand and noble, something that will live when 
 the hands that fashioned it have crumbled back to dust ; 
 something that will follow me across and beyond the dark 
 8i Lent valley, something that can not be hushed and straight- 
 ened and bandaged and screwed down under my coffin-lid, 
 oh ! something that will echo in eternity ! that grandpa 
 and I can hear ' sounding down the ages,' making music 
 for the people, when I go to my final rest ! And, please 
 God ! I shall ! I will ! O doctor ! I have a feeling here 
 which assures me I shall be spared till I finish my darling 
 scheme. You know Glanville said, and Poe quoted, ' Man 
 doth not yield himself to the angels, nor unto death utterly, 
 save only through the weakness of his feeble will.' Mine 
 is strong, invincible ; it will sustain me for a longer period 
 than you seem to believe. The end is not yet. Doctor, do 
 not tell people what you have told me. I do not want to 
 be watched and pitied, like a doomed victim who walks 
 about the scaffold with a rope already around his neck. 
 Let the secret rest between you and me." 
 
 He looked woncleringly at the electric white face, and 
 something in its chill radiance reminded him of the borealis 
 light, that waves its ghostly banners over a cold midnight 
 sky. 
 
 " God grant that I may be in error concerning your dis- 
 ease;; 'and that threescore years and ten may be allotted 
 you, to embody the airy dreams you love so well. I repeat, 
 if you wish to prolong your days, give yourself more rest. 
 I can do you little good ; still, if at any time you fancy that 
 I can aid or relieve you, do not hesitate to send for me. I 
 shall come to see you as a friend, .who reads and loves all 
 that has yet fallen from your pen. God help and bless you, 
 child !" • 
 
 As he left the room she locked the door, and walked 
 slowly back to the low mantel-piece. Resting her arms on 
 
410 ST - ELMO. 
 
 the black marble, she laid her head down upon them, and 
 ambition and death stared face to face, and held grim par- 
 ley over the coveted prey. 
 
 Taking the probable measure of her remaining days, Edna 
 fearlessly fronted the future, and pondered the possibility 
 of crowding into two years the work which she had design* 
 ed for twenty. 
 
 To tell the girl to " rest," was a mockery ; the tides of 
 thought ebbed and flowed as ceaselessly as those of ocean, 
 and work had become a necessity of her existence. She was 
 fai*, far beyond the cool, quiet palms of rest, far out on the 
 burning sands ; and the Bahr-Sheitan rippled and glittered 
 and beckoned, and she panted and pressed on. 
 
 One book was finished, but before she had completed it 
 the form and features of another struggled in her busy 
 brain, and she longed to put them on paper. 
 
 The design of the second book appeared to her partial 
 eyes almost perfect, and the first seemed insignificant in 
 comparison. Trains of thought that had charmed her, 
 making her heart throb and her temples flush ; and meta- 
 phors that glowed as she wrote them down, ah ! how tame 
 and trite all looked now, in the brighter light of a newer 
 revelation ! The attained, the achieved, tarnished in her 
 grasp. All behind was dun; all beyond clothed with a 
 dazzling glory that lured her on. 
 
 Once the fondest hope of hei heart had been to finish tli6 
 book now in the publisher's hands ; but ere it could be print- 
 ed, other characters, other aims, other scenes usurped her 
 attention. If she could only live long enough to incarnate 
 the new ideal ! 
 
 Moreover, she knew that memory would spring up and 
 renew its almost intolerable torture, the moment that she 
 gave herself to aimless reveries ; and she felt that her sole 
 hope of peace of mind, her only rest, was in earnest and un- 
 ceasing labor. Subtle associations, merciless as the chains 
 of Bonnivard, bound her to a past which she was earnestly 
 
si: ELMO. 441 
 
 striving to forget; and she continually paced ss far <ff as 
 her shackles world permit, sternly refusing to sit down 
 meekly at the foot of the stake. She worked late a'j night 
 until her body was exhausted, because she dreaded to lie 
 awake, tossing helplessly on her pillow; haunted by pre- 
 cious recollections of days gone by for ever. 
 
 Her name was known in the world of letters, her reputa- 
 tion was already enviable ; extravagant expectations were 
 entertained concerning her future ; and to maintain her hold 
 on public esteem, to climb higher, had become necessary 
 for her happiness. 
 
 Through Mr. Manning's influence and friendship she was 
 daily making the acquaintance of the leading men in litera- 
 ture, and their letters and conversation stimulated her to 
 renewed exertion : 
 
 Yet she had never stooped to conciliate popular preju- 
 dices, had never written a line which her conscience did 
 not dictate, and her religious convictions sanction ; had 
 bravely attacked some of the pet vices and shameless fol- 
 lies of society, and had never penned a page without a 
 prayer for guidance from on High. 
 
 Now in her path rose God's Reaper, swinging his shining 
 sickle, threatening to cut off and lay low her budding lau- 
 rel-wreath. 
 
 While she stood silent and motionless in the quiet libra- 
 ry, the woman's soul was wrestling with God for permis- 
 sion to toil a little while longer on earth, to do some good 
 for her race, and to assist in saving a darkened soul almost 
 as dear to her as her own. 
 
 She never knew how long that struggle for life lasted ; 
 but when the prayer ended, and she lifted her face, the 
 shadows and the sorrowful dread had passed away ; and 
 the old calm, the old sweet, patient smile reigned over the 
 pale, worn features. 
 
 Early in J ily, Felix's feeble health forced his mother to 
 abandon her projected tour to the White Mountains; and 
 
-12 ST. ELMO. 
 
 iri accordance with Dr. Howell's advice, Mr. Andrews re 
 moved his family to a sea-side summer-place, which he had 
 owned for some years, but rarely occupied, as his wife pre- 
 ferred Newport, Saratoga, and JSTahant. 
 
 The house at the " Willows " was large and airy, the 
 ceilings were high, windows wide, and a broad piazza, 
 stretching across the front, was shaded by twc aged and 
 enormous willows, that stood on either side of the steps, 
 and gave a name to the place. 
 
 The fresh matting on the floors, the light cane sofas and 
 chairs, the white muslin curtains and newly-painted green 
 blinds imparted an appearance of delicious coolness and 
 repose to the rooms ; and while not one bright-hued paint- 
 ing was visible, the walls were hung with soft, gray, misty 
 engravings of Landseer's pictures, framed in carved ebony 
 and rosewood and oak. 
 
 The gilded splendor of the Fifth Avenue house was left 
 behind ; here simplicity and quiet comfort held sway. 
 Ev r en the china wore no glitter, but was enamelled with 
 green wreaths of vine-leaves ; and the vases held only 
 plumy ferns, fresh and dewy. 
 
 Low salt meadow-lands extended east and west, waving 
 fields of corn stretched northward, and the slight knoll on 
 which the building stood sloped smoothly down to the ever- 
 moaning, foam-fretted bosom of the blue Atlantic. 
 
 To the governess and her pupils the change from New- 
 York heat and bustle to sea-side rest, was welcome and de- 
 lightful ; and during the long July days, when the strong 
 ocean breeze tossed aside the willow boughs, and swept 
 through the rustling blinds, and lifted the hair on Edna's 
 hot temples, she felt as if she had indeed taken a new lease 
 on life. 
 
 For several weeks her book had been announced as in 
 press, and her publishers printed most flattering circulars, 
 which heightened expectation, and paved the way for its 
 favorable reception. Save the first chapter, rejected by 
 
ST. ELMO. 443 
 
 Mr. Manning long before, no one had teen tLe MS. ; ani 
 while the reading public was on the qui vive, ti e authoi 
 was rapidly maturing the plot of a second work. 
 
 Finally, the book was bound ; editors' copies winged their 
 way throughout the country ; the curious eagerly supplied 
 themselves with the latest publication ; and Edna's destiny 
 as an author hung in the balance, 
 
 It was with strange emotions that she handled the copy 
 sent to her, for it seemed indeed a part of herself. She 
 knew that her own heart was throbbing in its pages, and 
 wondered whether the great world-pulses would beat in 
 unison. 
 
 Instead of a preface she had quoted on the title-page 
 those pithy lines in " Aurora Leigh " : 
 
 " My critic Belfair wants a book 
 Entirely different, wliich will sell and live ; 
 A striking book, yet not a startling book — 
 The public blames originalities. 
 You must not pump spring-water unawares 
 Upon a gracious public full of nerves — 
 Good things, not subtle — new, yet orthodox ; 
 As easy reading as the dog-eared page 
 That's fingered by said public fifty years, 
 Since first taught spelling by its grandmother, 
 And yet a revelation in some sort : 
 That's hard, my critic Belfair 1" 
 
 N o w, as Edna nestled her fingers among the pages of her 
 book, a tear fell and moistened them, and the unvoiced lan- 
 guage of her soul was, " Grandpa ! do you keep close 
 enough to me to read my book ? Oh ! do you like it ? aro 
 you satisfied ? Are you proud of your poor little Pearl ?" 
 
 The days were tediously long while she waited in sus- 
 pense for the result of the weighing in editors' sanctums, 
 for the awful verdict of the critical Sanhedrim. A week 
 dragged itself away ; and the severity of the decree might 
 have entitled it to one of those slips of blue paper upon 
 
144 ST ELMO. 
 
 which Frederick the Great required his souits to inscribe 
 their sentences of death. Edna learned the full import of 
 
 the words : 
 
 " He. that writes, 
 Or makes a feast, more certainly invites 
 His judges than Ms friends ; there's not a guest 
 But will find something wanting or ill-drest." 
 
 Newspapers pronounced her book a failure. Some sneer- 
 ed in a gentlemanly manner, employing polite phraseology ; 
 others coarsely caricatured it. Many were insulted by its 
 incomprehensible erudition ; a few growled at its shallow- 
 ness. To-day there was a hint at plagiarism ; to-morrow 
 an outright, wholesale theft was asserted. Now she was a 
 pedant ; and then a sciolist. Reviews poured in upon her 
 thick and fast ; all found grievous faults, but no two re- 
 viewers settled on the same error. What one seemed dis- 
 posed to consider almost laudable the other denounced vio- 
 lently. One eminently shrewd, lynx-eyed editor discovered 
 that two of her characters were stolen from a book which 
 Edna had never seen ; and another, equally ingenious and 
 penetrating, found her entire plot in a work of which she 
 had never heard ; while a third, shocked at her pedantry, 
 indignantly assured her readers that they had been im- 
 posed upon, that the learning was -all " picked up from en- 
 cyclopaedias ;" whereat the young author could not help 
 laughing heartily, and wondered why, if her learning had 
 been so easily gleaned, her irate and insulted critics did not 
 follow her example. 
 
 The book was for many days snubbed, buffeted, brow- 
 beaten ; and the carefully-woven tapestry was torn into 
 shreds and trampled upon ; and it seemed that the patiently 
 sculptured shrine was overturned and despised and des- 
 ecrated. 
 
 Edna was astonished. She knew that her work was not 
 perfect, but she was equally sure that it was not contempti- 
 ble. She was surprised rather than mortified, and was con- 
 
ST. ELMO. 445 
 
 vinced, from the universal howling, that she had w curded 
 more people than she dreamed were vulnerable. 
 
 She felt that the impetuosity and savageness of the at- 
 tacks must necessitate a recoil ; and though it was difficult 
 to be patient under such circumstances, she waited quietly, 
 undismayed by the clamor. 
 
 Meantime the book sold rapidly, the publishers could 
 scarcely supply the demand ; and at last Mr. Manning's 
 Magazine appeared, and the yelping pack of Dandie Din- 
 mont's pets — Auld Mustard and Little Mustard, Auld Pep- 
 per and Little Pepper, Young Mustard and Young Pepper, 
 stood silent and listened to the roar of the lion. 
 
 The review of Edna's work was headed by that calm re- 
 tort of Job to his self-complacent censors, " N"o doubt but 
 ye are the people, and wisdom shall die with you ;" and it 
 contained a withering rebuke to those who had so flippantly 
 essayed to crush the young writer. 
 
 Mr. Manning handled the book with the stern imparti- 
 ality which gave such value to his criticisms — treating it as 
 if it had been written by an utter stranger. 
 
 He analyzed it thoroughly ; and while pointing out some 
 serious errors which had escaped all eyes but his, he be- 
 stowed upon a few passages praise which no other Ameri- 
 can writer had ever received from him, and predicted that 
 they would live when those who attempted to ridicule them 
 were utterly forgotten in their graves. 
 
 The young author was told that she had not succeeded in 
 her grand aim, because the subject was too vast for the lim- 
 its of a novel, and her acquaintance with the mythologies of 
 the world was not sufficiently extensive or intimate. But she 
 was encouraged to select other themes more in accordance 
 with the spirit of the age in which she lived ; and the as- 
 surance was given to her, that her writings were destined 
 to exert a powerful influence on her race. Some faults of 
 style were gravely reprimanded, some beauties most cor- 
 dially eulogized and held up for the admiration of the 
 world. 
 
446 # 7 - ELMO. 
 
 Edna had as little literary conceit as personal vanity 
 she saw and acknowledged the errors pointed out by Mr. 
 Manning, and resolved to avoid them in future, She felt 
 that some objections urged against her book were valid, 
 but knew that she was honest and earnest in her work, and 
 could not justly be accused of trifling. 
 
 Gratefully and joyfully she accepted Mr. Manning's ver- 
 dict, and turned her undivided attention upon her new 
 manuscript. 
 
 While the critics snarled, the mass of readers warmly ap- 
 proved; and many who did not fully appreciate all her ar- 
 guments and illustrations, were at least clear-eyed enough 
 to perceive that it was their misfortune, not her fault. 
 
 Gradually the book took firm hold on the affections of 
 the people ; and a few editors came boldly to the rescue, 
 and nobly and ably championed it. 
 
 During these days of trial, Edna could not avoid observ- 
 ing one humiliating fact, that saddened without embitter- 
 ing her nature. She found that instead of sympathizing 
 with her, she received no mercy from authors, who, as a 
 class, out-Heroded Herod in their denunciations, and left 
 her little room to doubt that — 
 
 " Envy's a sharper spur than pay, 
 And unprovoked 'twill court the fray ; 
 No author ever spared a brother ; 
 Wits are gamecocks to one another." 
 
CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 jISS EARL, you promised that as soon as I 5n* 
 ished the 'Antiquary' you would read ui6 a de- 
 scription of the spot which Sir Walter Scott se- 
 lected for the scene of his story. We have read 
 the last chapter : now please remember your promise." 
 
 " Felix, in your hunger for books you remind me of the 
 accounts given of cormorants. The ' Antiquary ' ought to 
 satisfy you for the present, and furnish food for thought 
 that would last at least till to-morrow ; still, if you exact 
 an immediate fulfilment of my promise, I am quite ready to 
 comply." 
 
 Edna took from her work-basket a new and handsomely- 
 illustrated volume, and read Bertram's* graphic description 
 of Auchmithie and the coast of Forfarshire. 
 
 Finding that her pupils were deeply interested in the 
 
 '"Fisher Folk," she read on and on; and when she began 
 
 the pathetic story of the widow at Prestonpans, Hattie's 
 
 eyes widened with wonder, and Felix's were dim with 
 
 tears : 
 
 " We kent then that we micht look across the sea ; but 
 ower the waters would never blink the een that made sun- 
 shine around our hearths ; ower the waters would never 
 come the voices that were mair delightfu' than the music o' 
 the simmer winds, when the leaves gang dancing till they 
 sang. My story, sir, is dune. I hae nae mair tae tell. Suf- 
 
 • The author is well aware of the fact that more than one quotation to be found In these 
 pages may be considered anachronistic. 
 
448 ST. ELMO. 
 
 ficient and suffice it till say, that there was great grief u\ 
 the Pans — Rachel weeping for her weans, and wouldna be 
 comforted. The windows were darkened, and the air was 
 heavy wi' sighin' and sabbin'." 
 
 The governess closed the book, laid it back in her basnet, 
 and raising the lid of the piano, she sang that sad, wailing 
 lyric of Kingsley's, " The Three Fishers." 
 
 It was one of those rare and royal afternoons late in Au- 
 gust, when summer, conscious that her reign is well-nigh 
 ended, gathers all her gorgeous drapery, and proudly robes 
 the world in regal pomp and short-lived splendor. Pearly 
 cloud islets, with silver sti'ands, clustered in the calm blue 
 of the upper air ; soft, salmon-hued cumulus masses sailed 
 solemnly along the eastern horizon — atmospheric ships 
 freighted in the tropics with crystal showers for thirsty 
 fields and parched meadows— with snow crowns for Ice- 
 landic mountain brows, and shrouds of sleet for mouldering 
 masts, tossed high and helpless on desolate Arctic cliffs. 
 Restless gulls flashed their spotless wings, as they circled 
 and dipped in the shining waves ; and in the magic light of 
 evening, the swelling canvas of a distant sloop glittered 
 like plate-glass smitten with sunshine. A strong, steady 
 southern breeze curled and crested the beautiful, bounding 
 billows, over which a fishing-smack danced like a gilded 
 bubble ; and as the aged willows bowed their heads, it 
 whispered messages from citron, palm, and orange groves, 
 gleaming far, far away under the white fire of the Southern 
 Crown. 
 
 Strange tidings these " winged winds " waft over sea 
 and land ; and to-day listening to low tones that travelled 
 to her from Le Bocagre Edna looked out over the ever- 
 changing, wrinkled face of ocean, and fell into a reverie. 
 
 Silence reigned in the sitting-room; Hattie fitted a new 
 tarlatan dress on her doll, and Felix was dreaming of Pres- 
 tonpans. 
 
 The breeze swept over the cluster of Tuscan jasmine, 
 
ST. ELMO. 449 
 
 and the tall, snowy phlox nodding in tht greeL v ase on the 
 table, and shook the muslin curtains till .dght Mid shadow 
 chased each other like waves over the noble Longhi en- 
 graving of Raphael's "Vision of Ezekiel," which hung just 
 above the piano. After a while Felix took his chin from the 
 window-sill, and his eyes from the sparkling, tossing water, 
 and his gaze sought the beloved countenance of his gov- 
 erness. 
 
 " The mouth with steady sweetness set, 
 
 And eyes conveying unaware 
 The distant hint of some regret 
 
 That harbored there." 
 
 Her dress was of white mull, with lace gathered around 
 the neck and wristbands ; a delicate fringy fern-leaf was 
 caught by the cameo that pinned the lace collar, and around 
 the heavy coil of hair at the back of her head, Hattie had 
 twined a spray of scarlet tecoma. 
 
 Save the faint red on her thin, flexible lips, her face was as 
 stainless as that of the Hebrew Mary, in a carved ivory 
 " Descent from the Cross," which hung over the mantel- 
 piece. 
 
 As the boy watched her he thought the beautiful eyes 
 were larger and deeper, and burned more brilliantly than 
 ever before ; and the violet shadows beneath them seemed 
 to widen day by day, telling of hard study and continued 
 vigils. Pale and peaceful, patiently sad, without a trace 
 of bitterness or harshness, her countenance might have 
 served as a model for some which Ary Scheffer dimly saw 
 in his rapt musings over " Wilhelm Meister." 
 
 " Oh ! yonder comes mamma and — Uncle Grey ! No ; 
 that is not my uncle Grey. Who can it be ? It is — Sir 
 Roger !" 
 
 Hattie ran out to meet her mother, who had been to 
 New-York ; and Felix frowned, took up his crutches, and 
 put on his hat. 
 
 Edna turned and went to her own room, and in a few 
 
450 ST. ELMO. 
 
 moments Hattie brought her a package of letters, and a 
 message from Mrs. Andrews, desiring her to come hack to 
 the sitting-room. 
 
 Glancing over the directions the governess saw that all 
 the letters were from strangers, except one from Mrs. Mur- 
 ray, which she eagerly opened. The contents were melan- 
 choly and unexpected. Mr. Hammond had been very ill 
 for weeks, was not now in immediate danger, but was con- 
 fined to his room ; and the physicians thought that he 
 would never be well again. He had requested Mrs. Murray 
 to write, and beg Edna to come to him, and remain in his 
 house. Mrs. Powell was in Europe with Gertrude and Gor- 
 don, and the old man was alone in his home, Mrs. Murray 
 and her son having taken care of him thus far. At the 
 bottom of the page Mr. Hammond had scrawled almost 
 illegibly : " My dear child, I need you. Come to me at 
 once." 
 
 Mrs. Murray had added a postscript to tell her that if 
 she would telegraph them upon what day she could ar- 
 range to start, Mr. Murray would come to New- York for 
 her. 
 
 Edna put the letter out of sight, and girded herself for a 
 desperate battle with her famishing heart, which bounded 
 wildly at the tempting joys spread almost within reach. 
 The yearning to go back to the dear old parsonage, to the 
 revered teacher, to cheer and brighten his declining days ; 
 and, above all, to see Mr. Murray's face, to hear his voice 
 once more, oh ! the temptation was strong indeed, and the 
 cost of resistance bitter beyond precedent. Having heard 
 incidentally of the reconciliation that had taken place, she 
 knew why Mr. Hammond so earnestly desired her presence 
 in a house where Mr. Murray now spent much of his time ; 
 she knew all the arguments, all the pleadings to which she 
 must listen, and she dared not trust her heart. 
 
 " Enter not into temptation !" was the warning which 
 ehe uttered again and again to her own soul ; and though 
 
81. ELMO. 451 
 
 §he feared the pastor would be pained, she fe.t tlat Lo 
 would not consider her ungrateful — knew that his warm, 
 tender heart would understand hers. 
 
 Though she had always studiously endeavored U exp*i 
 Mr. Murray from her thoughts, there came hours whin his 
 image conquered ; when the longing, the intense wish to 
 see him was overmastering; when she felt that she would 
 give ten years of her life for one long look into his face, 01 
 for a picture of him. 
 
 Now when she had only to* say, " Come !" and he would 
 be with her, she sternly denied her starving heart, and in- 
 stead of bread gave it stones and serpents. 
 
 She took her pen to answer the letter, but a pang which 
 she had learned to understand told her that she was not 
 now strong enough ; and, swallowing some medicine which 
 Dr. Howell had prescribed, she snatched up a crimson 
 scarf and went down to the beach. 
 
 The serenity of her countenance had broken up in a feai - 
 ful tempest, and her face writhed as she hurried along to 
 overtake Felix. Just now she dreaded to be alone, and yet 
 the only companionship she could endure was that of the 
 feeble cripple, whom she had learned to love, as woman 
 can love only when all her early idols are in the dust. 
 
 " Wait for me, Felix !" 
 
 The boy stopped, turned, and limped back to meet her, 
 for there was a strange, pleading intonation in her mourn- 
 fully sweet voice. 
 
 " What is the matter, Miss Earl ? You look troubled." 
 
 " I only want to walk with you, for I feel lonely this 
 evening." 
 
 " Miss Earl, have you seen Sir Roger Percival ?" 
 
 " No, no ; why should I see him ? Felix, my darling, 
 my little brother ! do not call me Miss Earl any longer. 
 Call me Edna. Ah child ! I am utterly alone ; I must 
 have somebody to love me. My heart turns to you." 
 
 She passed her arm around the boy's shoulders and 
 
452 ST. ELMO. 
 
 leaned against him, while he rested on his crutches at.d 
 looked up at her with fond pride. 
 
 " Edna ! I have wanted to call you so since the day I 
 first saw you. You know very well that I love you better 
 than every thing else in the world. If there is any good in 
 me, I shall have to thank you for it ; if ever I am useful, it 
 will be your work. I am Avicked still ; but I never look at 
 you without trying to be a better boy. You do not need 
 me — you who are so great and gifted; whose writings 
 every body reads and admires ; whose name is already cele- 
 brated. Oh ! you can not need any one, and, least of all, a 
 poor little helpless cripple ! who can only worship you, and 
 love the sound of your voice better than all the music that 
 ever was played ! If I thought that you, Miss Earl — 
 whose book all the world is talking about — if I thought 
 you really cared for me — O Edna ! Edna ! I believe my 
 heart would be too big for my poor little body !" 
 
 " Felix, we need each other. Do you suppose I would 
 have followed you out here, if I did not prefer your society 
 to that of others ?" 
 
 " Something has happened since you sang the * Three 
 Fishers' and sat looking out of the window an hour ago. 
 Your face has changed. What is it, Edna ? Can't you 
 trust me ?" 
 
 " Yes. I received a letter which troubles me. It an- 
 nounces the feeble health of a dear and noble friend, who 
 writes begging me to come to him, and nurse and remain 
 with him as long as he lives. You need not start and 
 shiver so — I am not going. I shall not leave you ; but it 
 distresses me to know that he has asked an impossible 
 thing. Now you can understand why I did not wish to :jo 
 alone." 
 
 She leaned her cheek down on the boy's head, and both 
 stood silent, looking over the wide heaving waste of imme- 
 morial waters. 
 
 A glowing orange sky overarched an orange ocean, which 
 
ST. VLMv. 453 
 
 slowly became in turn ruby, and rose, and violet, and L .<eaily 
 gray, powdered with a few # dim stars. As the rising waves 
 broke along the beach, the stiffening breeze bent the spray 
 till it streamed like silvery plumes ; and the low musical 
 murmur swelled to a monotonous moan, that seemed to 
 come over the darkening waters like wails of the lost from 
 some far, far " isles of the sea." 
 
 Awed by the mysterious solemnity which ever broods 
 over the ocean, Felix slowly repeated that dirge of Tenny 
 eon's, " Break, break, break !" and when he commenced 
 the last verse, Edna's voice, low and quivering, joined bis. 
 As if evoked from his lonely storm-lashed lair, Varuua 
 reared his head against the amber west, and shook his 
 snowy foam-locks on the evening wind, and roared ; while 
 dim, weird, vast, and mystically blue as Egypt's Amon, the 
 monstrous outline writhed in billowy folds along the entire 
 horizon. 
 
 Out of the eastern sea, up through gauzy clond-bars, rose 
 the moon, round, radiant, almost full, shaking off the mists, 
 burnishing the waves with a ghostly lustre. 
 
 The wind rose and fluttered Edna's scarlet scarf like a 
 pirate's pennon, and the low moan became a deep, sullen, 
 ominous mutter. 
 
 " There will be a gale before daylight ; it is brewing 
 down yonder at the south-west. The wind has veered since 
 we came out. There ! did you notice what a savage snort 
 there was in that last gust ?" 
 
 Felix pointed to the distant water-line, where now and 
 then a bluish flash of lightning showed the teeth of the 
 storm raging far away under southern constellations, ex- 
 tinguishing for a time the golden flame of Can opus. 
 
 " Yes, you must go in, Felix. I ought not to have kept 
 you out so long." 
 
 Reluctantly she turned from the beach, and fcl ey had pro- 
 ceeded but a few yards in the direction of the house when 
 they met Mrs. Andrews, and her guest 
 
454 ST - ELMO. 
 
 " Felix, my son ! Too late, too late for you ! Come i» 
 with me. Miss Earl, as you are so fond of the beach, I 
 hope you will show Sir Roger all its beauties. 1 commit 
 him to your care." 
 
 She went toward the house with her boy, and as Sir 
 Roger took Edna's hand and bent forward, looking eagerly 
 into her face, she saw a pained and startled expression cross 
 his own. 
 
 " Miss Earl, did you receive a letter from me, written im- 
 mediately after the perusal of your book ?" 
 
 " Yes, Sir Roger, and your cordial congratulations and 
 flattering opinion were, I assure you, exceedingly gratify- 
 ing, especially as you were among the first who found any 
 thing in it to praise." 
 
 " You have no idea with what intense interest I have 
 watched its reception at the hands of the press, and I think 
 the shallow, flippant criticisms were almost as nauseous to 
 me as they must have been to you. Your book has had f» 
 fierce struggle with these self-consecrated, red-handed, high- 
 priests of the literary Yaraa ; but its success is now estab- 
 lished, and I bring you news of its advent in England, 
 where it has been republished. You can well afford to ex- 
 claim with Drayton : 
 
 ' We that calumnious critic may eschew, 
 
 That blasteth all things with his poisoned breath, 
 Detracting what laboriously we do 
 
 Only with that which he but idly saith.' 
 
 The numerous assaults made upon you reminded me con- 
 stantly of the remarks of Blackwood a year or two since : 
 'Formerly critics were as scarce and formidable, and con- 
 sequently as Avell known, as mastiffs in a country parish ; 
 but now no luckless traveller can show his face in a village 
 without finding a whole pack yelping at his heels.' Fortu- 
 nately, Miss Earl, though they show their teeth, and are 
 evidently anxious to mangle, they are. not strong enough to 
 
ST. ELMO. 455 
 
 do much harm. Have you answered" any of these at- 
 tacks ?" 
 
 " No, sir. Had I ever commenced filling the sieve of the 
 Danaides, I should have time for nothing else. If you will 
 not regard me as exceedingly presumptuous, and utterly 
 ridiculous by the comparison, I will add that, with refer 
 ence to unfavorable criticism, I have followed the illustrious 
 example of Buffon, who said, when critics opened their 
 batteries, ' Je n'ai jamais repondu a aucune critique, et je 
 garderai le meme silence sur celle-ci.'' " 
 
 " But, my dear Miss Earl, I see that you have been ac- 
 cused of plagiarizing. Have you not refuted this state- 
 ment ?" 
 
 " Again I find Buffon's words rising to answer for me, 
 as they did for himself under similar circumstances, i H 
 vaut mieux laisser ces mauvaises gens dans V incertitude ! ' 
 Moreover, sir, I have no right to complain, for if it is neces- 
 sary in well-regulated municipalities to have inspectors of 
 all other commodities, why not of books also ? I do not 
 object to the rigid balancing — I wish to pass for no more 
 than I weigh ; but I do feel inclined to protest sometimes, 
 Avhen I see myself denounced simply because the scales are 
 too small to hold what is ambitiously piled upon them, and 
 my book is either thrown out pettishly, or whittled and 
 scraped down to fit the scales. The storm, Sir Roger, was 
 very severe at first — nay, it is not yet ended ; but I hope, I 
 believe I have weathered it safely. If my literary bark 
 had proved unworthy, and sprung a leak and foundered, it 
 would only have shown that it did not deserve to live ; that 
 it was better it should go down alone and early, than when 
 attempting to pilot others on the rough unknown sea of 
 letters. I can not agree with you in thinking that critics 
 are more abundant now than formerly. More books are 
 written, and consequently more are tabooed ; but the his- 
 tory of literature proves that, from the days of Congreve, 
 
456 ST. ELMO. 
 
 ' Critics to plays for the same end resort 
 That surgeons wait on trials in a court ; 
 For innocence condemned they've no respect 
 Provided they've a body to dissect.' 
 
 After all, it can not be denied that some of the best por- 
 tions of Byron's and Pope's writings were scourged out of 
 them by the scorpion thongs of adverse criticism ; and the 
 virulence of the JCenie?i Sturm waged by Schiller and 
 Goethe against the army of critics who assaulted them, at- 
 tests the fact that even appreciative Germany sometimes 
 nods in her critical councils. Certainly I have had my share of 
 scourging ; for my critics have most religiously observed 
 the warning of ' spare the rod and spoil the child ;' and 
 henceforth, if my writings are not model, well-behaved, 
 puritanical literary children, my censors must be exoner- 
 ated from all blame, and I will give testimony in favor of 
 the zeal and punctuality of these self-elected officials of the 
 public whipping-post. The canons have not varied one 
 iota for ages ; if authors merely reflect the ordinary normal 
 aspects of society, without melodramatic exaggeration or 
 ludicrous caricature, they are voted trite, humdrum, com- 
 monplace, and live no longer than their contemporaries. 
 If they venture a step in advance, and attempt to lead, to 
 lift up the masses, or to elevate the standard of thought and 
 extend its range, they are scoffed at as pedants, and die un- 
 honored prophets ; and just as the tomb is sealed above 
 them, people peer more closely into their books, and whis- 
 per, ' There is something here after all ; great men have 
 been among us.' The next generation chants pseans, and 
 casts chaplets on the graves, and so the world rings with 
 the names of ghosts, and fame pours generous libations to 
 appease the manes of genius slaughtered on the altar of 
 criticism. Once Schiller said, 'Against public stupidity 
 the gods themselves are powerless.' Since then, that same 
 public lifted him to the pedestal of a demi-god ; now all 
 Germany proudly claims him ; and who shall tell us where 
 
ST. ELMO. 457 
 
 sleep his long-forgotten critics ? Such has been the history 
 of the race since Homer groped through vine-clad Chios, 
 and poor Dante was hunted from city to city. If the great 
 hierarchs of literature are sometimes stabbed while minis- 
 tering at the shrine, what can we humble acolytes expect 
 but to be scourged entirely out of the temple ? We all get 
 our dues at last ; for yonder, among the stars, Astraaa laughs 
 at man's valuations, and shakes her infallible balance and 
 re-weighs us." 
 
 She had crossed her arms on the low stone wall that in- 
 closed the lawn, and bending forward, the moon shone full 
 on her face, and her eyes and her thoughts went out to sea. 
 Her companion stood watching her countenance, and some 
 strange expression there recalled to his mind that vivid 
 description : 
 
 " And then she raised her head, and upward cast 
 Wild looks from homeless eyes, whose liquid light 
 Gleamed out between deep folds of blue black hair, 
 As gleam twin lakes between the purple peaks 
 Of deep Parnassus, at the mournful moon." 
 
 After a short silence, Sir Roger said : 
 
 " Miss Earl, I can find no triumph written on your fea- 
 tures, and I doubt whether you realize how inordinately 
 proud your friends are of your success." 
 
 " As yet, sir, it is not assured. My next book will de- 
 termine my status in literature ; and I have too much to ac- 
 complish — I have achieved too little, to pause and look 
 back, and pat my own shoulder, and cry, Io triumphe! I 
 am not so indifferent as you seem to imagine. Praise grat- 
 ifies, and censure pains me ; but I value both as mere gauges 
 of my work, indexing the amount of good I may or may 
 not hope to effect. I wish to be popular — that is natural, 
 and, surely,. pardonable ; but I desire it not as an end, but 
 as a means to an end — usefulness to my fellow-creatures ; 
 
 ' And whether crowned or crownless, when I fall, 
 It matters not, so as God's work is done.' 
 
458 ST - ELMO. 
 
 I love my race, I honor my race; I belkve tint hint an 
 nature, sublimated by Christianity, is capable ot attaining 
 nobler heights than pagan philosophers and infidel seers 
 ever dreamed of. And because my heart yearns toward 
 my fellow-creatures, I want to clasp one hand in the warm 
 throbbing palm of sinful humanity, and with the other hold 
 up the lamp that God gave me to carry through this world, 
 and so struggle onward, heavenward, with this genei'ation 
 of men and women. I claim no clear Uriel vision, now and 
 then I stumble and grope ; but at least I try to keep my 
 little lamp trimmed, r*nd I am not so blind as some, who 
 reel and stagger in the Maremme of ci'ime and fashionable 
 vice. As a pilgrim toiling through a world of sinful temp- 
 tation, and the night of time where the stars are often 
 shrouded, I cry to those beyond and above me, ' Hold high 
 your lights, that I may see my way !' and to those behind and 
 below me, ' Brothers ! sisters ! come on, come up !' Ah ! 
 these steeps of human life are hard enough to climb when 
 each shares his light and divides his neighbor's grievous 
 burden. God help us all to help one another ! Mecca pil- 
 grims stop in the Valley of Muna to stone the devil; some- 
 times I fear that in the Muna of life we only stone each 
 other and martyr Stephen. Last week I read a lecture on 
 architecture, and since then I find myself repeating one of 
 the passages : ' And therefore, lastly and chiefly, you must 
 love the creatures to whom you minister, your fellow-men ; 
 for if you do not love them, not only will you be little inter- 
 ested in the passing events of life, but in all your gazing at 
 humanity, you will be apt to be struck only by outside 
 form, and not by expression. It is only kindness and ten- 
 derness which will ever enable you to see what beauty 
 there is in the dark eyes that are sunk with weeping, and 
 in the paleness of those fixed faces which the earth's adver- 
 sity has compassed about, till they shine in their patience 
 like dying watch-fires through twilight.' In some sort I 
 think we are all mechanics — moral architects, designing as 
 
ST. ELMO. 459 
 
 apprentices en the sands of time that, which as master 
 builders, we shall surely erect on the jasper pavements of 
 eternity. So let us all heed the noble words." 
 
 She seemed talking rather to herself, or to the surging 
 sea where her eyes rested, than to Sir Roger ; and as he 
 noticed the passionless pallor of her face, he sighed, and 
 put his hand on hers. 
 
 " Come, walk with me on the beach, and let me tell you 
 why I came back to New- York, instead of sailing from Can- 
 ada, as I once intended." 
 
 A half-hour elapsed, and Mrs. Andrews, who was sitting 
 alone on the piazza, saw the governess coming slowly up 
 the walk. As she ascended the steps, the lady of the house 
 exclaimed : 
 
 " Where is Sir Roger ?" 
 
 " He has gone." 
 
 " Well, my dear ! Pardon me for anticipating you, but 
 as I happen to know all about the affair, accept my con- 
 gratulations. You are the luckiest woman in America." 
 
 Mrs. Andrews put her arm around Edna's waist, but 
 something in the countenance astonished and disappointed 
 her. 
 
 "Mrs. Andrews, Sir Roger sails to-morrow for England. 
 He desired me to beg that you would excuse him for not 
 coming in to bid you good-bye." 
 
 " Sails to-morrow ! When does he return to America ?" 
 
 " Probably never." 
 
 "Edna Earl, you are an idiot! You may have any 
 amount of genius, bxit certainly not one grain of common- 
 sense ! I have no patience with you ! I had set my heart 
 on seeing you his wife." 
 
 " But, unfortunately for me, I could not set my heart on 
 him. 1 am very sorry; I wish we had never met, for in- 
 deed I like Sir Roger ; but it is useless to discuss what ia 
 past and irremediable. Where are the children ?" 
 
 " Asleep, I suppose. After all, show me ' a gifted woman* 
 a genius,' and I will show you a fool." 
 
460 ST. ELMO. 
 
 Mrs. Andrews bit her lip, and walked oJF; and Edna 
 went up-stairs to Felix's room. 
 
 The hoy was sitting by the open window, w: itching the 
 gray clouds trailing across the moon, checkering the face of 
 the mighty deep, now with shadow, now with sheen. So 
 absorbed was he in his communing with the mysterious spirit 
 of the sea, that he did not notice the entrance of the gover- 
 ness, until he felt her hand on his shoulder. 
 
 " Ah ! have you come at last ? Edna, I was wishing for 
 you a little while ago, for as I sat looking over the waves, 
 a pretty thought came into my mind, and I want to tell 
 you about it. Last week, if you remember, we were read- 
 ing about Antony and Cleopatra ; and just now, while I 
 was watching a large star yonder, making a shining track 
 across the sea, a ragged, hungry-looking cloud crept up, and 
 nibbled at the edge of the star, and swallowed it ! And I 
 called the cloud Cleopatra swallowing her pearl !" 
 
 Edna looked wonderingly into the boy's bright eyes, and 
 drew his head to her shoulder. 
 
 " My dear Felix, are you sure you never heard that same 
 thought read or quoted ? It is beautiful, but this is not the 
 first time I have heard it. Think, my dear little boy ; try 
 to remember where you saw it written." 
 
 " Indeed, Edna, I never saw it anywhere. I am sure I 
 never heard it either; for it seemed quite new when it 
 bounced into my mind just now. Who else ever thought 
 of it ?" 
 
 "Mr. Stanyan Bigg, an English poet, whose writings are 
 comparatively unknown in this country. His works I have 
 never seen, but I read a review of them in an English book, 
 which contained many extracts ; and that pretty metaphor 
 which you used just now, was among them." 
 
 " Is that review in our library ?" 
 
 " No, I am sure it is not ; but you may have seen the 
 lines quoted somewhere else." 
 
 " Edna, I am very certain I never heard it before. Do 
 
ST. ELMO t 461 
 
 you recollect how it is written in the Englishman's poem? 
 If you can repeat it, I shall know instantly, because my 
 memory is very good." 
 
 " I think I can give you one stanza, for I read it when 1 
 was in great sorrow, and it made an impression upon me : 
 
 ' The clouds, like grim black faces, come and go ; 
 
 One tall tree stretches up against the sky ; 
 It lets the rain through, like a trembling hand 
 
 Pressing thin fingers on a watery eye. 
 The moon came, but shrank back, like a young girl 
 
 Who has burst in upon funereal sadness ; 
 One star came — Cleopatra-like, the Night 
 
 Swallowed this one pearl in a fit of madness !' " 
 
 "Well, Felix, you are a truthful boy, and I can trust 
 you !" 
 
 " I never heard the poetry before, and I tell you, Edna, 
 the idea is just as much mine as it is Mr. Bigg's !" 
 
 "I believe you. Such coincidences are rare, and people 
 are very loath to admit the possibility ; but that they do 
 occasionally occur, I have no doubt. Perhaps some day 
 when you write a noble poem, and become a shining light 
 in literature, you may tell this circumstance to the world ; 
 and bid it beware how it idly throws the charge of plagiar- 
 ism against the set teeth of earnest, honest workers." 
 
 "Edna, I look at my twisted feet sometimes, and feel 
 thankful that it is my body, not my mind, that is deformed. 
 If I am ever able to tell the world any thing, it will be how 
 much I owe you ; for I trace all holy thoughts and pretty 
 ideas to you and your music and your writings." 
 
 They sat there awhile in silence, watching heavy massei 
 of cloud darken sea and sky ; and then Felix lifted his face 
 from Edna's shoulder, and asked timidly : 
 
 " Did you send Sir Roger away ?" 
 
 " He goes to Europe to-morrow, I believe." 
 
 " Poor Sir Roger ! I am sorry for him. I told mamma 
 
462 ST - elmo. 
 
 you never thought of him; that you loved nothing but 
 hooks and flowers and music." 
 
 " How do you know that ?" 
 
 " I have watched you, and when he was with you I never 
 saw that great shining light in your eyes, or that strange 
 moving of your lower lip, that always shows me when y< u 
 are really glad ; as you were that Sunday, when the music 
 was so grand ; or that rainy morning when we saw the pic- 
 ture of the ' Two Marys at the Sepulchre.' I almost hated 
 poor Sir Roger, because I was afraid he might take you to 
 England ; and then, what would have become of me ? Oh ! 
 the world seems so different, so beautiful, so peaceful, as 
 long as I have you with me. Every body praises you, and 
 is proud of you, but nobody loves you, as I do." 
 
 He took her hand, passed it over his cheek and forehead, 
 and kissed it tenderly. 
 
 " Felix, do you feel at all sleepy ?" 
 
 " Not at all. Tell me something more about the animal- 
 cula that cause that phosphorescence yonder — making the 
 top of each wave look like a fringe of fire. Is it true that 
 they are little round things that look like jelly — so small 
 that it takes one hundred and seventy, all in a row, to 
 make an inch ; and that a wine-glass can hold millions of 
 them ?" 
 
 " I do not feel well enough to-night to talk about animal- 
 cula. I am afraid I shall have one of those terrible attacks 
 I had last winter. Felix, please don't go to bed for a while 
 at least ; and if you hear me call, come to me quickly. I 
 must write a letter before I sleep, Sit here, will you, till I 
 come back ?" 
 
 For the first time in her life she shrank from the thought 
 ol suffering alone, and felt the need of a human presence. 
 
 " Edna, let me call mamma. I saw this afternoon that 
 you were not well." 
 
 " No, it may pass off; and I want nobody about me but 
 you." 
 
ST. ELMO. 4G3 
 
 Only a narrow passage divided her room from his; and 
 leaving the door open, she sat down before her desk to an 
 swer Mr. Hammond's appeal. 
 
 As the night wore on, the wind became a gale ; the fitftd 
 bluish glare of the lightning showed fearful ranks of raven- 
 ous waves scowling over each others' shoulders ; a roar as 
 of universal thunder shook the shore, and in the coral- 
 columned cathedral of the great deep, wrathful ocean 
 played a wild and weird fugue. 
 
 Felix waited patiently, listening amid the dread diapa- 
 son of wind and wave, for the voice of his governess. But 
 no sound came from the opposite room ; and at last, 
 alarmed by the solemn silence, he took up his' crutches 
 and crossed the passage. 
 
 The muslin curtains, blown from their ribbon fastenings, 
 streamed like signals of distress on the breath of the tem- 
 pest, and the lamplight flickered and leaped to the top of 
 its glass chimney. 
 
 On the desk lay tw r o letters addressed respectively to 
 Mr. Hammond and Mrs. Murray, and beside them were 
 scattered half a dozen notes from unknown correspond- 
 ents, asking for the autograph and photograph of the young 
 author. 
 
 Edna knelt on the floor, hiding her face in the arms 
 which were crossed on the lid of the desk. 
 
 The cripple came close to her and hesitated a moment, 
 then touched her lightly : 
 
 " Edna, are you ill, or are you only praying ?" 
 
 She lifted her head instantly, and the blanched, weary 
 face reminded the boy of a picture of Gethsemane, which 
 having once seen, he could never recall without a shudder. 
 
 " Forgive me, Felix ! I forgot that you were waiting— 
 forgot that I asked you to sit. up." 
 
 She rose, took the thin little form in her arms, and wills* 
 pered :. 
 
 " I am sorry I kept you up so long. The pain has passed 
 
464 ST. ELMO. 
 
 away. I think the danger is over now. Go back to yo ni 
 room 5 ard go to sleep as soon as possible. Good-night, my 
 darling." 
 
 They kissed each other and separated ; but the fury of 
 the tempest forbade all idea of sleep, and thinking of the 
 " Fisher Folk " exposed to its wrath, governess and pupil 
 committed them to Him, who calmed the Galilean gale. 
 
 " The sea was all a boiling, seething froth, * 
 
 And God Almighty's guns were going off. 
 And the land trembled." 
 
CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 ]HE Greek myth concerning Demophoon embodies 
 a valuable truth, which the literary career of 
 Edna Earl was destined to exemplify. Harsh 
 critics like disguised Ceres plunged the young 
 author into the flames ; and fortunately for her, as no short- 
 sighted, loving Metanira snatched her from the fiery ordeal, 
 she ultimately obtained the boon of immortality. Her reg- 
 ular contributions to the magazine enhanced her reputa- 
 tion, and broadened the sphere of her usefulness. 
 
 Profoundly impressed by the conviction that she held her 
 talent in trust, she worked steadily, looking neither to right 
 nor left, but keeping her eyes fixed upon that day when she 
 would be called to render an account to Him, who would 
 demand his own with interest. Instead of becoming 
 flushed with success, she grew daily more cautious, more 
 timid, lest inadvertence or haste should betray her into 
 errors. Consequently as the months rolled away, each 
 magazine article seemed an improvement on the last, and 
 lifted her higher in public favor. The blacksmith's grand 
 child had become a power in society. 
 
 Feeling that a recluse life would give her only partial 
 glimpses of that humanity which she wished to study, she 
 moved in the circle of cultivated friends who now eagerly 
 stretched out their arms to receive her ; and "keeping her- 
 self unspotted from the world," she earnestly scrutinized 
 social leprosy, and calmly watched the tendency of Amer- 
 ican thought and feeling. 
 
466 ST. ELMO. 
 
 Among philosophic minds she saw an inclination to 
 ignore the noble principles of such systems as Sir William 
 Hamilton's, and to embrace the modified and subtle mate- 
 rialism of Buckle and Mill, or the gross atheism of Buchner 
 and Moleschott. Positivism in philosophy and pre-Rapha- 
 elitism in art, confronted her in the ranks of the literary ; 
 lofty idealism seemed trodden down — pawed over by Car- 
 lyle's " Monster Utilitaria." 
 
 When she turned to the next social stratum she found 
 altars of mammon — groves of Bael, shining Schoe Dagon — 
 set up by business men and women of fashion. Society 
 appeared intent only upon reviving the Bhudagagna, or 
 offering to propitiate evil spirits ; and sometimes it seemed 
 thickly sprinkled with very thinly disguised refugee Yezi- 
 dees, who, in the East, openly worship the devil. 
 
 Statesmen were almost extinct in America — a mere cor- 
 poral's guard remained, battling desperately to save the 
 stabbed constitution from the howling demagogues and 
 fanatics, who raved and ranted where Washington, Web- 
 ster, and Calhoun had once swayed a free and happy peo- 
 ple. Republicanism was in its death-throes, and would 
 soon be a dishonored and insulted ghost, hunted out of the 
 land by the steel bayonets of a centralized despotism. The 
 old venerated barriers and well-guarded outposts which 
 decorum and true womanly modes'ty had erected on the 
 frontiers of propriety, were swept away in the crevasse of 
 sans souci manners that threatened to inundate the entire 
 land ; and latitudinarianism in dress and conversation was 
 rapidly reducing the sexes to an equality, dangerous to 
 morals and subversive of all chivalric respect for woman. 
 
 A double-faced idol, Fashion and Flirtation, engrossed 
 the homage of the majority of females, while a few mis- 
 guided ones, weary of the inanity of the mass of woman- 
 hood and desiring to effect a reform, mistook the sources of 
 the evil, and, rushing to the opposite extreme, demanded 
 power, which, as a privilege, they already possessed, but as 
 a right could never extort. 
 
ST. ELMO. 467 
 
 A casual glance at the surface of society seemdk justify 
 Burke's conclusion, that a this earth is the bedlam of oui 
 system ;" but Edna looked deeper, and found much that 
 encouraged her, much that warmed and bound her sympa- 
 thies to her fellow-creatures. Instead of following the 
 beaten track she struck out a new path, and tried the pian 
 of denouncing the offence, not the offender ; of attacking 
 the sin while she pitied the sinner. 
 
 Ruthlessly she assaulted the darling follies, the pet, vel- 
 vet-masked vices that society had adopted, and called the 
 reading world to a friendly parley ; demanding that men 
 and women should pause and reflect in their mad career. 
 Because she was earnest and not bitter, because the white 
 banner of Christian charity floated over the conference 
 ground, because she showed so clearly that she loved the 
 race whose recklessness grieved her, because her rebukes 
 were free from scorn, and written rather in tears than gall, 
 people turned their heads and stopped to listen. 
 
 So it came to pass that finally, after toiling over many 
 obstacles, she reached the vine-clad valley of Eshcol. 
 
 Each day brought her noble fruitage, as letters came from 
 all regions of the country, asking for advice and assistance 
 in little trials of which the world knew nothing. Over th6 
 young of her own sex she held a singular sway ; and or- 
 phan girls of all ranks and ages wrote of their respective 
 sorrows and difficulties, and requested her kind counsel. 
 To these her womanly heart turned yearningly ; and she 
 accepted their affectionate confidence as an indication of 
 her proper circle of useful labor. 
 
 Believing that the intelligent, refined, modest Christian 
 women of the United States were the real custodians of 
 national purity, and the sole agents who could successfully 
 arrest the tide of demoralization breaking over the land, 
 she addressed herself to the wives, mothers, and daughters 
 of America ; calling upon them to smite their false gods, 
 and purify the shrines at which they worshipped. Jealously 
 
408 $ T - ELMO. 
 
 fclie contended for every woman's right which Gud ani na. 
 ture had decreed the sex. The right to be learned, wise, 
 noble, useful, in woman's divinely limited sphere ; the 
 right to influence and exalt the circle in which she moved ; 
 the right to mount the sanctified bema of her own quiet 
 hearthstone ; the right to modify and direct her husband's 
 opinions, if he considered her worthy and competent to 
 guide him ; the right to make her children ornaments to 
 their nation, and a crown of glory to their race; the right 
 to advise, to plead, to pray ; the right to make her desk a 
 Delphi, if God so permitted ; the right to be all that the 
 phrase " noble, Christian woman " means. But not the 
 right to vote ; to harangue from the hustings ; to trail her 
 heaven-born purity through the dust and mire of political 
 strife ; to ascend the rostra of statesmen, whither she may 
 send a worthy husband, son, or brother, but whither she 
 can never go, without disgracing all womanhood. 
 
 Edna was conscious of the influence she exerted, and 
 ceaselessly she prayed that she might wield it aright. 
 While aware of the prejudice that exists against literary 
 women, she endeavored to avoid the outre idiosyncrasies 
 that justly render so many of that class unpopular and 
 ridiculous. 
 
 She felt that she was a target at which all observers 
 aimed random shafts; and while devoting herself to study, 
 she endeavored to give due attention to the rules of eti- 
 quette, and the harmonious laws of the toilette. 
 
 The friendship between Mr. Manning and herself 
 strengthened, as each learned more fully the character of 
 the other ; and an affectionate, confiding frankness marked 
 1 heir intercourse. As her popularity increased she turned 
 to him more frequently for advice, for success only ren- 
 dered her cautious ; and day by day she weighed more 
 carefully all that fell from her pen, dreading lest some error 
 should creep into her writings and lead others astray. 
 
 In her publisher — an honorable, kind-hea' ted, and gen* 
 
ST. ELMO. 4(53 
 
 erous gentleman—she found a valued friend ; aod as lier 
 book sold extensively, the hope of a competency was real- 
 ized, and she was soon relieved from the necessity of teach- 
 ing. She was a pet with the reading public ; it became 
 fashionable to lionize her ; her pictures and autographs 
 were eagerly sought after; and the little, barefooted Ten 
 nessee child had grown up to celebrity. 
 
 Sometimes when a basket of flowers, or a handsome 
 book, or a letter of thanks and cordial praise was received 
 from an unknown reader, the young author was so over- 
 whelmed with grateful appreciation of these little tokens 
 of kindness and affection, that she wept over them, or 
 prayed tremulously that she might render herself more 
 worthy of the good opinion entertained of her by strangers. 
 
 Mr. Manning, whose cold, searching eye was ever upon 
 her, could detect no exultation in her manner. She was 
 earnestly grateful for every kind word uttered by her friends 
 and admirers, for every favorable sentence penned about 
 her writings ; but she seemed only gravely glad, and was 
 as little changed by praise as she had been by severe ani- 
 madversion. The sweet, patient expression still rested on 
 her face, and her beautiful eyes beamed with the steady 
 light of resignation rather than the starry sparkle of extrav- 
 agant joy. 
 
 Sometimes when the editor missed her at the literary re- 
 unions, where her presence always contributed largely to 
 the enjoyment of the evening, and sought her in the school- 
 room, he was often surprised to find her seated beside Felix, 
 reading to him or listening to his conversation with a de- 
 gree of interest which she did not always offer to the celeb- 
 lities who visited her. 
 
 Her power over the cripple was boundless. His charac- 
 ter was as clay in her hands, and she was faithfully striving 
 to model a noble, hallowed life; for she believed that he 
 was dest/ned to achice distinction, and fondly hoped to 
 
470 ST. ELMO 
 
 stamp upon his mind principles and aims that weald frue 
 tify abundantly when she was silent in the grave. 
 
 Mrs. Andrews often told her that she was the only per 
 son who had ever controlled or influenced the hoy — that 
 she could make him just what she pleased ; and she devoted 
 herself to him, resolved to spare no toil in her efforts to cor- 
 rect the evil tendencies of his strong, obstinate, stormy na- 
 ture. 
 
 His fondness for history, and for all that involved theo- 
 ries of government, led his governess to hope that at some 
 future day he might recruit the depleted ranks of statesmen 
 — that he might reflect lustre upon his country ; and with 
 this trust spurring her ever on, she became more and more 
 absorbed in her schemes for developing his intellect, and 
 sanctifying his heart. People wondered how the lovely 
 woman, whom society flattered and f6ted, could voluntarily 
 shut herself up in a school-room, and few understood the 
 sympathy which bound her so firmly to the broad-browed, 
 sallow little cripple. 
 
 One December day, several months after their return 
 from the sea-side, Edna and Felix sat in the library. The 
 boy had just completed Prescott's " Philip II.," and the gov- 
 erness had promised to read to him Schiller's " Don Carlos " 
 and Goethe's " Egmont," in order to impress upon his 
 memory the great actors of the Netherland revolution. 
 She took up the copy of " Don Carlos," and crossing his 
 arms on the top of his crutches, as was his habit, the pupil 
 fixed his eyes on her face. 
 
 The reading had continued probably a half-hour, when 
 Felix heard a whisper at the door, and, looking over his 
 shoulder, saw a stranger standing on the threshold. He 
 partially rose; the movement attracted the attention of the 
 governess, and, as she looked up, a ciy of joy rang through 
 the room. She dropped the book and sprang forward with 
 open arms. 
 
 " O Mrs. Murray ! dear friend ! " 
 
ST. ELMO. 471 
 
 For some moments they stood locked in a waini etat :*ace, 
 and as Felix limped out of the room he heard his governess 
 sobbing. 
 
 Mrs. Murray held the girl at arm's length, and as she 
 looked at the wan, thin face, she exclaimed : 
 
 "My poor Edna! my dear little girl! why did not you 
 lell me you were ill ? You are a mere ghost of your former 
 self. My child, why did you not come home long ago ? 
 I should have been here a month earlier, but was detained 
 by Estelle's marriage." 
 
 Edna looked vacantly at her benefactress, and her lips 
 whitened as she asked : 
 
 " Did you say Estelle — was married ?" 
 
 " Yes, my dear. She is now in New- York with her hus- 
 band. They are going to Paris " 
 
 " She married your " The head fell forward on Mrs. 
 
 Murray's bosom, and as in a dream she heard the answer: 
 
 " Estelle married that young Frenchman, Victor De Sans- 
 sure, whom she met in Europe. Edna, what is the matter ? 
 My child !" 
 
 She found that she could not rouse her, and in great 
 alarm called for assistance. 
 
 Mrs. Andrews promptly resorted to the remedies advised 
 by Dr. Howell ; but it was long before Edna fully recov- 
 ered, and then she lay with her eyes closed, and her hands 
 clasped across her forehead. 
 
 Mrs. Murray sat beside the sofa weeping silently, while 
 Mrs. Andrews briefly acquainted her with the circumstan- 
 ces attending former attacks. When the latter was sum- 
 moned from the room and all was quiet, Edna looked up at 
 Mrs. Murray, and tears rolled over her cheeks as she said : 
 
 " I was so glad to see you, the great joy and the surprise 
 overcame me. I am not as strong as I used to be in the old 
 happy days at Le Bocage, but after a little I shall be my- 
 self. It is only occasionally that I have these attacks of 
 faintness* Put your hand on my forehead, as you did years 
 
472 ST. ELMO. 
 
 ago, and let me think that I am a little child again. Oh 
 the unspeakable happiness of being with you once more !" 
 
 " Hush ! do not talk now, you ai'e not strong enough." 
 
 Mrs. Murray kissed her, and tenderly smoothed the hair 
 back from her blue-veined temples, where the blood still 
 fluttered irregulai'ly, 
 
 For some minutes the girl's eyes wandered eagerly over 
 her companion's countenance, tracing there the outlines of 
 another and far dearer face, and finding a resemblance be- 
 tween mother and son which she had never noticed before. 
 Then she closed her eyes again, and a half smile curved 
 her trembling mouth, for the voice and the touch of the 
 hand seemed indeed Mr. Murray's. 
 
 " Edna, I shall never forgive you for not writing to me, 
 telling me frankly of your failing health." 
 
 " Oh ! scold me as much as you please. It is a luxury to 
 hear your voice even in reproof." 
 
 " I knew mischief would come of this separation from 
 me. You belong to me, and I mean to have my own, and 
 take proper care of you in future. The idea of your work- 
 ing yourself to a skeleton for the amusement of those who 
 care nothing about you is simply preposterous, and I intend 
 to put an end to such nonsense." 
 
 "Mrs. Murray, why have yoa not mentioned Mr. Ham- 
 mond ? I almost dread to ask about him." 
 
 " Because you do not deserve to hear from him. A grateful 
 and affectionate pupil you have proved, to be sure. Edna ! 
 what has come over you, child r Are you so intoxicated with 
 your triumphs that you utterly forget your old friends, who 
 loved you when you were unknown to the world ? At first 
 I thought so. I believed that you were heartless, like all 
 of ycur class, and completely wrapped up in ambitious 
 schemes. But, my little dainng, I see I wronged you 
 Your poor white face reproaches me for my injustice, and 
 I feel that success has not spoiled you ; that you are still 
 toy little Edna — my sweet cLdd — my daughter. Be quiet 
 
ST. ELMO. 473 
 
 now, and listen to me, and try to keep that flutter out of 
 your lips, Mr. Hammond is no worse than he has been for 
 many months, but he is very feeble, and can not live much 
 longer. You know very well that he loves you tenderly, 
 and he says he can not die in peace without seeing you 
 once more. Every day, when I go over to the parsonage, 
 his first question is, ' Ellen, is she coming ? — have you 
 heard from her ?' I wish you could have seen him when 
 St. Elmo was reading your book to him. It was the copy 
 you sent; and when we read aloud the joint dedication tc 
 him and to myself, the old man wept, and asked for hit- 
 glasses, and tried to read it, but could not. He " 
 
 Edna put out her hand with a mute gesture, which her 
 friend well understood, and she paused and was silent; 
 while the governess turned her face to the wall, and wept 
 softly, trying to compose herself. 
 
 Ten minutes passed, and she said : " Please go on now, 
 Mrs. Murray, and tell me all he said. You can have no 
 idea how I haA r e longed to know what you all at home 
 thought of my little book. Oh ! I have been so hungry for 
 home praise ! I sent the very earliest copies to you and to 
 Mr. Hammond, and ' I thought it so hard that you never 
 mentioned them at all." 
 
 " My dear, it was my fault, and I confess it freely. Mr. 
 Hammond, of course, could not write, but he trusted to me 
 to thank you in his name for the book and the dedication. 
 I was really angry with you for not coming home when I 
 wrote for you ; and I was jealous of your book, and would 
 not praise it, because I knew you expected it. But because 
 I was silent, do you suppose I was not proud of my little 
 girl ? If you could have seen the tears I shed over some 
 of the eulogies pronounced upon you, and heard all the 
 ugly words I could not avoid uttering against some of your 
 would-be critics, you could not doubt my thorough appre- 
 ciation of your success. My dear, it is impossible to describe 
 Mr. Hammcnd's l?light, as we read your novel to him. 
 
474 ST - ELMO. 
 
 Often he wou.d say : ' St. Elmo, read that passage again, 
 I knew she was a gifted child, but I did not expect that she 
 would ever write such a book as this.' When we read the 
 last chapter he was completely overcome, and said, repeat- 
 edly, ' God bless my little Edna ! It is a noble book, it 
 will do good — much good!' To me it seems almost incred- 
 ible that the popular author is the same little lame, crushed 
 orphan, whom I lifted from the grass at the railroad track, 
 seven years ago." 
 
 Edna had risen, and was sitting on the edge of the sofa, 
 with one hand supporting her cheek, and a tender, glad 
 smile shining over her features, as she listened to the com- 
 mendation of those dearer than all the world beside. Mrs. 
 Murray watched her anxiously, and sighed as she continued : 
 
 " If ever a woman had a worshipper, you certainly pos- 
 sess one in Huldah Reed. It would be amusing, if it were 
 not touching, to see her bending in ecstasy over every 
 thing you write ; over every notice of you that meets her 
 eye. She regards you as her model in all respects. You 
 would be surprised at the rapidity with which she acquires 
 knowledge. She is a pet of St. Elmo's, and repays his care 
 and kindness with a devotion that makes people stare ; for 
 you know my son is regarded as an ogre, and the child's 
 affection for him seems incomprehensible to those who only 
 see the rough surface of his character. She never saw a 
 frown on his face, or heard a harsh word from him, for he 
 is strangely tender in his treatment of the little thing. 
 Sometimes it makes me start when I hear her merry laugh 
 ringing through the house, for the sound carries me far back 
 into the past, when my own children romped and shouted 
 at Le Bocage. You were always a quiet, demure, and 
 rather solemn child ; but this Huldah is a gay little sprite. 
 St. Elmo is so astonishingly patient with her, that Estelle 
 accuses him of being in his dotage. O Edna ! it would 
 make you glad to see my son and that orphan child sitting 
 together, reading the Bible. Last week I found them in 
 
m: elmo. 475 
 
 the library; she was fast asleep with her head 01 his knee, 
 and he sat with his open Bible in his hand. He is so 
 changed in his manner that you would scarcely \ no w him; 
 and oh ! I am so happy and so grateful, I can never thank 
 God sufficiently for the blessing !" 
 
 Mrs. Murray sobbed, and Edna bent her own head lower 
 in her palms. 
 
 For some seconds both were silent. Mrs. Murray seated 
 herself close to the governess, and clasped her arms around 
 her. 
 
 " Edna, why did you not tell me all ? "Why did you 
 leave me to find out by accident that 5 which should have 
 been confided to me ?" 
 
 The girl trembled, and a fiery spot burned on her cheeks 
 as she pressed her forehead against Mrs. Murray's bosom, 
 and said hastily : 
 
 " To what do you allude ?" 
 
 "Why did you not tell me that my son loved you and 
 wished to make you his wife ? I never knew what passed 
 between you until about a month ago, and then I learned it 
 from Mr. Hammond. Although I wondered that St. Elmo 
 went as far as Chattanooga with you on your way North, 
 I did not su--pect any special interest, for his manner be- 
 trayed none when, after his return, he merely said that he 
 found no one on the train to whose care he could commit 
 you. Now I know all — know why you left 'Le Bocage ;' 
 and I know, too, that in God's hands you have been the 
 instrument of bringing St. Elmo back to his duty — to his 
 old noble self ! O Edna, my child ! if you could know 
 how I love and thank you ! How I long to fold you in my 
 arms — so ! and call you my daughter ! Edna Murray — St. 
 Elmo's wife ! Ah ! how proud I shall be of my own daugh- 
 ter ! When I took a little bruised, moaning, homespun- 
 clad girl into my house, how little I dreamed that I was 
 sheltering unawares the angel who was to bring back hap 
 piness to my son's heart, and peace to my own !" 
 
476 ST. ELMO. 
 
 She lifted the burning face, and kissed the quivering hps 
 repeatedly. 
 
 " Edna, my brave darling ! how could you resist St. 
 Elmo's pleading ? How could you tear yourself away from 
 him ? Was it because you feared that I would not will- 
 ingly receive you as a daughter ? Do not shiver so — an« 
 swer me." 
 
 " Oh ! do not ask me ! Mrs. Murray spare me ! This is 
 a subject which I can not discuss with you." 
 
 " Why not, my child ? Can you not trust the mother 
 of the man you love ?" 
 
 Edna unwound the arms that clasped her, and rising, 
 walked away to the mantel-piece. Leaning heavily against it, 
 she stood for some time with her face averted, and beneath 
 the veil of long, floating hair Mrs. Murray saw the slight 
 figure sway to and fro, like a reed shaken by the breeze. 
 
 " Edna, I must talk to you about a matter which alone 
 brought me to New-York. My son's happiness is dearer 
 to me than my life, and I have come to plead with you, for 
 his sake if not for your own, at least to " 
 
 " It is useless ! Do not mention his name again ! Oh ! 
 Mrs. Murray ! I am feeble to-day ; spare me ! Have mercy 
 on my weakness !" 
 
 She put out her hand appealingly, but in vain. 
 
 " One thing you must tell me. Why did you reject 
 him ?" 
 
 Because I could not respect his character. Oh ! forgive 
 me ! You force me to say it — because I knew that he was 
 unworthy of any woman's confidence and affection." 
 
 The mother's face flushed angrily, and she rose and threw 
 her head back with the haughty defiance peculiar to her 
 family. 
 
 " Edna Earl, how dare you speak to me in such terms oi 
 my own son ? There is not a woman on the face of the 
 broad earth who ought not to feel honored by his prefer- 
 ence — who might not be proud of his hand. What right 
 
ST. ELMO. 477 
 
 have you to pronounce him unworthy of fcrus; ? Amsver 
 me !" 
 
 "The right to judge him from his own account of his 
 past life. The history which he gave me condemns him. 
 His crimes made' me shrink from him." 
 
 " Crimes ! take care, Edna ! You must be beside your- 
 self! My son is no criminal! He was unfortunate and 
 rash, but his impetuosity was certainly pardonable unde* 
 the circumstances." 
 
 " All things are susceptible of palliation in a mother's 
 partial eyes," answered the governess. 
 
 " St. Elmo fought a duel, and afterward carried on sev- 
 eral flirtations with women who were weak enough tc 
 allow themselves to be trifled with ; moreover, I shall not 
 deny that at one period of his life he was lamentably dissi- 
 pated ; but all that happened long ago, before you knew him. 
 How many young gentlemen indulge in the same things, 
 and are never even reprimanded by society, much less de- 
 nounced as criminals ? The world sanctions duelling and 
 flirting, and you have no right to set your extremely rigid 
 notions of propriety above the verdict of modern society. 
 Custom justifies many things which you seem to hold in 
 utter abhorrence. Take care that you do not find yourself 
 playing the Pharisee on the street corners." 
 
 Mrs. Murray walked up and down the room twice, then 
 came to the hearth. 
 
 " Well, Edna, I am waiting to hear you." 
 
 " There is nothing that I can say which would not wound 
 or displease you ; therefore, dear Mrs. Murray, I must be 
 silent." 
 
 " Retract the hasty words you uttered just now ; they 
 expressed more than you intended." 
 
 " I can not ! I meant all I said. Offences against God's 
 law, which you consider pardonable — and which the world 
 winks at and permits, and even defends — I regard as griev- 
 ous sins. I believe that every man who kills another in a 
 
478 ST. ELMO. 
 
 duel deserves the curse of Cain, and should be shunned aa 
 a murderer. My conscience assures me that a man who 
 can deliberately seek to gain a woman's heart merely to 
 gratify his vanity, or to wreak his hate by holding her up 
 to scorn, or trifling with the love which he has won, is un- 
 principled, and should be ostracized by every true woman. 
 Were you the mother of Murray and Annie Hammond, dc 
 you think you could so easily forgive their murderer ?" 
 
 " Their father forgives and ti'usts my son, and you have 
 no right to sit in judgment upon him. Do you suppose 
 that you are holier than that white-haired saint whose 
 crown of glory is waiting for him in heaven ? Are you so 
 much purer than Allan Hammond that you fear contamina- 
 tion from one to whom he clings ?" 
 
 " No — no — no ! You wrong me. If you could know 
 how humble is my estimate of myself, you would not taunt 
 me so cruelly ; you would only — pity me !" 
 
 The despairing agony in the orphan's voice touched Mrs. 
 Murray's proud heart, and tears softened the indignant ex 
 pression of her eyes, as she looked at the feeble form before 
 her. 
 
 " Edna, my poor child, you must trust me. One thing I 
 must know — I have a right to ask — do you not love my 
 son ? You need not blush to acknowledge it to me." 
 
 She waited awhile, but there was no reply, and softly her 
 arm stole around the girl's waist. 
 
 " My daughter, you need not be ashamed of your affec- 
 tion for St. Elmo." 
 
 Edna lifted her face from the low mantel, and clasping 
 her hands across her head, exclaimed : 
 
 " Do I love him ? Oh ! none but my God can ever know 
 how entirely my heart is his ! I have struggled against his 
 fascination — oh ! indeed I have wrestled and prayed against 
 it ! But to-day — I do not deceive myself — I feel that I love 
 him as I can never love any other human being. You are 
 his inothe', and you will pity me when I tell you that I fall 
 
ST. ELMC 479 
 
 asleep praying for him — that in my ireanu I am with him 
 once more — that the first thought on waking is still of him. 
 What do you suppose it cost me to give him up ? Oh ! is 
 it hard, think you, to live in the same world and yet never 
 look on his face, never hear his voice ? God only knows 
 how hard ! If he were dead, I could hear it better. But, 
 ah ! to live with this great sea of silence between us — a 
 dreary, cold, mocking sea, crossed by no word, no whisper, 
 filled only with slowly, sadly-sailing ghosts of precious 
 memories ! Yes, yes ! Despite all his unworthiness — de- 
 spite the verdict of my judgment, and the upbraiding of ray 
 conscience — I love him ! I love him ! You can sympathize 
 with me. Do not reproach me ; pity me, oh ! pity me in my 
 feebleness!" 
 
 She put out her arms like a weary child and dropped her 
 face on Mrs. Murray's shoulder. 
 
 " My child, if you had seen him the night before I left 
 home, you could not have resisted any longer the prompt- 
 ings of your own heart. He told me all that had ever 
 passed between you ; how he had watched and tempted 
 you ; how devotedly he loved you ; how he reverenced your 
 noble purity of character ; how your influence, your exam- 
 ple, had first called him back to his early faith ; and then he 
 covered his face and said, ' Mother ! mother ! if God 
 would only give her to me, I could, I would be a better 
 man !' Edna, I feel as if my son's soul rested in your 
 hands ! If you throw him off utterly, he may grow despe- 
 rate, and go back to his old habits of reckless dissipation 
 and blasphemy ; and if he should ! Oh ! if he is lost at 
 last I will hold you accountable, and charge you before 
 God with his destruction ! Edna, beware ! You have a 
 fetrange power over him ; you can make him almost what 
 you will. If you will not listen to your own suffering 
 heart, or to his love, hear me. Hear a mother pleading for 
 her son's eternal safety !" 
 
 The haughty woman fell on her knees before the orphan, 
 
480 ST. ELMO. 
 
 and wept, and Edna instantly knelt beside her and clung 
 to her. 
 
 " I pray for him continually. My latest breath shall be 
 a prayer for his salvation. His eternal welfare is almost 
 as precious to me as my own ; for if I get to heaven at 
 last, do you suppose I could be happy even there without 
 him ? But, Mrs. Murray, I can not be his wife. If he is 
 indeed conscientiously striving to atone for his past life, he 
 will be saved without my influence ; and if his remorseful 
 convictions of duty do not reform him, his affection for me 
 would not accomplish it. Oh ! of all mournful lots in life, 
 I think mine is the saddest ! To find it impossible to tear 
 my heart from a man whom I distrust, whom I can not 
 honor, whose fascination I dread. I know my duty in this 
 matter — my conscience leaves me no room to doubt — and 
 from the resolution which I made in sight of Annie's grave, 
 I must not swerve. I have confessed to you how com- 
 pletely my love belongs to him, how fruitless are my efforts 
 to forget him. I have told you what bitter suffering our 
 separation costs me, that you may know how useless it is 
 for you to urge me. Ah ! if I can withstand the wailing 
 of my own lonely, aching heart, there is nothing else that 
 can draw me from the stern path of duty ; no, no ! not 
 even your entreaties, dear Mrs. Murray, much as I love 
 and owe y"ou. God, who alone sees all, will help me to 
 bear my loneliness. He only can comfort and sustain me ; 
 and in His own good time He will save Mr. Murray, and 
 send peace into his troubled soul. Until then let us pray 
 patiently." 
 
 Flush and tremor had passed away, the features were 
 locked in rigid whiteness ; and the unhappy mother saw 
 that further entreaty would indeed be but mockery. 
 
 She rose and paced the floor for some moments. At last 
 Edna said : 
 
 " How long will you remain in New-York ?" 
 
 " Two days. Edna, I came here against my son's advice, 
 
I 
 
 8T. ELMO. 481 
 
 in opposition to his wishes, to intercede in his behalf and 
 prevail on you to go home with me. He knew you better 
 it seems than I did ; for he predicted the result, and de- 
 sired to save me from mortification ; but I obstinately 
 clung to the belief that you cherished some feelings of affec- 
 tionate gratitude toward me. You have undeceived me. Mr. 
 Hammond is eagerly expecting you, and it will be a keen 
 disappointment to the old man if I return without you. Is 
 it useless to tell you that you ought to go and see him ? 
 You need not hesitate on St. Elmo's account ; for unless 
 you wish to meet him, you will certainly not see him. My 
 son is too proud to thrust himself into the presence of any 
 one, much less into yours, Edna Earl." 
 
 " I will go with you, Mrs. Murray, and~ remain at the 
 parsonage — at least for a few weeks." 
 
 " I scarcely think Mr. Hammond will live until spring ; 
 and it will make him very happy to have you in his home." 
 
 Mrs. Murray wrapped her shawl around her and put on 
 her gloves. 
 
 " I shall be engaged with Estelle while I am here, and 
 shall not call again ; but of course you will come to the 
 hotel to see her, and we will start homeward day after to- 
 morrow evening." 
 
 She turned toward the door, but Edna caught her dress. 
 
 " Mrs. Murray, kiss me before you go, and tell me you 
 forgive the sorrow I am obliged to cause you to-day. My 
 burden is heavy enough without the weight of your dis- 
 pleasure." 
 
 But the proud face did not relax ; the mother shook her 
 head, disengaged her dress, and left the room. 
 
 An hour after Felix came in, and approaching the sofa 
 where his governess rested, said vehemently : 
 
 "Is it true, Edna? Are you going South with Mrs. 
 Murray ?" 
 
 " Yes ; I am going to see a dear friend who is probably 
 dying." 
 
482 ST - ELMO. 
 
 " O Edna ! what will become of me V 
 " I shall be absent only a few weeks- 
 
 " I have a horrible dread that if you go you will nevei 
 come back ! Don't leave me ! Nobody needs you half as 
 much as I do. Edna, you said once you would never for- 
 sake me. Remember your promise !" 
 
 " My dear little boy, I am not forsaking you ; I shall 
 only be separated from you for a month or two ; and it is 
 my duty to go to my sick friend. Do not look so wretched ! 
 for just so surely as I live, I shall come back to you." 
 
 " You think so now ; but your old friends will persuade 
 you to stay, and you will forget me, and — and " 
 
 He turned around and hid his face on the back of his 
 chair. 
 
 It was in vain that she endeavored, by promises and 
 caresses, to reconcile him to her temporary absence. He 
 would not be comforted ; and his tear-stained, woe-begone, 
 sallow face, as she saw it on the 3vening of her departure, 
 pursu3d her on her journey South. 
 
CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 |] HE mocking-bird sang as of yore in the myrtle- 
 boughs that shaded the study-window, and with- 
 in the parsonage reigned the peaceful repose 
 which seemed ever to rest like a benediction 
 upon it. A ray of sunshine stealing through the myrtle- 
 leaves made golden ripples on the wall ; a bright wood-fire 
 blazed in the wide, deep, old-fashioned chimney ; the white 
 cat slept on the rug, with her pink paws turned toward the 
 crackling flames ; and blue and white hyacinths hung their 
 fragrant bells over the gilded edge of the vases on the man- 
 tel-piece. Huldah sat on one side of the hearth peeling a 
 red apple ; and, snugly wrapped in his palm-leaf cashmere 
 dressing-gown, Mr. Hammond rested in his cushioned easy- 
 chair, with his head thrown far back, and his fingers clasp- 
 ing a large bunch of his favorite violets. His snowy hair 
 drifted away from a face thin and pale, but serene and 
 happy, and in his bright blue eyes there was a humorous 
 twinkle, and on his lips a half-smothered smile, as he lis- 
 tened to the witticisms of his Scotch countrymen in " Noc- 
 tes Ambrosianse." 
 
 Close to his chair sat Edna, reading aloud from the quaint 
 and inimitable book he loved so well, and pausing now and 
 then to explain some word which Huldah did not under 
 stand, or to watch for symptoms of weariness in the counte- 
 nance of the invalid. 
 
 The three faces contrasted vividly in the ruddy glow of 
 the fire. That of the little girl, round, rosy, red-lipped, 
 
484 . ST. ELMO: 
 
 dimpled, merry-eyed ; the aged pastor's wrinkled cheeks 
 and furrowed brow and streaming silver beai'd ; and the 
 carved ivory features of the governess, borrowing no color 
 from the soft folds of her rich crimson merino dress. Ah 
 daylight ebbed, the ripple danced up to the ceiling and 
 vanished, like the pricked bubble of a human hope ; the 
 mocking-bird hushed his vesper hymn ; and Edna closed th6 
 book and replaced it on the shelf. 
 
 Huldah tied on her scarlet-lined hood, kissed her friends 
 good-bye, and went back to Le Bocage ; and the old man 
 and the orphan sat looking at the grotesque flicker of thr 
 flames on the burnished andirons. 
 
 " Edna, are you tired, or can you sing some for me ?" 
 " Reading aloud rarely fatigues me. What shall I sing ?' 
 " That solemn, weird thing in the ' Prophet,' which suita 
 your voice so well." 
 
 She sang "Ah, mon fits /" and then, without waiting for 
 the request which she knew would follow, gave him some 
 of his favorite Scotch songs. 
 
 As the last sweet strains of " Mary of Argyle " echoed 
 through the study, the pastor shut his eyes, and memory 
 flew back to the early years when his own wife Mary had 
 sung those words in that room, and his dead darlings clus- 
 tered eagerly around the piano to listen to their mother's 
 music. Five fair-browed, innocent young faces circling 
 about the idolized wife, and baby Annie nestling in her 
 cradle beside the hearth, playing with her waxen fingers 
 and crowing softly. Death had stolen his household jewels ; 
 but recollection robbed the grave, and music's magic touch 
 unsealed " memory's golden urn." 
 
 " Oh ! death in life, the days that are no more 1" 
 
 Edna thought he had fallen asleep, he was so still, hia 
 face was so placid ; and she came softly back to her chair 
 and looked at the ruby temples and toweii6, the glittering 
 domes and ash-grey ruined arcades built by the oak coals. 
 
ST. ELMO. 435 
 
 A month had elapsed since her arrival at the parsonage, 
 and during that short period Mr. Hammond had rallied and 
 recovered his strength so unexpectedly that hopes were 
 entertained 'of his entire restoration ; and he spoke confi- 
 dently of being able to reenter his pulpit on Easter Sunday. 
 
 The society of his beloved pupil seemed to render him 
 completely happy, and his countenance shone in the blessed 
 light that gladdened his heart. After a long, dark, stormy 
 day, the sun of his life was preparing to set in cloudless 
 peace and glory. 
 
 Into all of Edna's literary schemes he entered eagerly. 
 She read to him the ms. of her new book as far as it was 
 finished, and was gratified by his perfect satisfaction with 
 the style, plot, and aim. 
 
 Mrs. Murray came every day to the parsonage, but Edna 
 had not visited Le Bocage ; and though Mr. Murray spent 
 two mornings of each week with Mr. Hammond, he called 
 at stated hours, and she had not yet met him. Twice she 
 had heard his voice in earnest conversation, and several 
 times she had seen his tall figure coming up the walk, but 
 of his features she caught not even a glimpse. St. Elmo's 
 name had never been mentioned in her presence by either 
 his mother or the pastor, but Huldah talked ceaselessly of 
 his kindness to her. Knowing the days on which he came 
 to the parsonage, Edna always absented herself from the 
 invalid's room until the visit was ovei\ 
 
 One afternoon she went to the church to play on the 
 organ ; and after an hour of mournful enjoyment in the gal- 
 lery so fraught with precious reminiscences, she left the 
 church and found Tamerlane tied to the iron gate, but his 
 master was not visible. She knew that he was somewhere 
 in the building or the yard, and denied herself the pleasure 
 of going there a second time. 
 
 Neither glance nor word had been exchanged since they 
 parted at the railroad station, eighteen months before. She 
 longed to know his opinion of her book, for many passages 
 
486 -ST. ELMO. 
 
 had been written wilh special reference to his j/erusal; but 
 she would not ask ; and it was a sore trial to sit in one 
 room, hearing the low, indistinct murmur of his voice in the 
 next, and yet never to see him. 
 
 Few women could have withstood the temptation ; but 
 the orphan dreaded his singular power over her heart, and 
 dared not trust herself in his presence. 
 
 This evening, as she sat with the fire-light shining on 
 her face, thinking of the past, she could not realize that 
 only two years had elapsed since she came daily to this 
 quiet room to recite her lessons ; for during that time she 
 had suffered so keenly in mind and body that it seemed as 
 if weary ages had gone over her young head. Involun- 
 tarily she sighed, and passed her hand across her forehead. 
 A low tap at the door diverted her thoughts, and a servant 
 entered and gave her a package of letters from New- York. 
 
 Every mail brought one from Felix ; and now opening his 
 first, a tender smile parted her lips as she read his passion- 
 ate, importunate appeal for her speedy return, and saw that 
 the closing lines were blotted with tears. The remaining 
 eight letters were from persons unknown to her, and con- 
 tained requests for autographs and photographs, for short 
 sketches for papers in different sections of the country, and 
 also various inquiries concerning the time when her new book 
 would probably be ready for press. All were kind, friendly, 
 gratifying, and one was eloquent with thanks for the good 
 effect produced by a magazine article on a dissipated, irre- 
 ligious husband and father, who, after its perusal, had re- 
 solved to reform, and wished her to know the beneficial in- 
 fluence which she exerted. At the foot of the page was a 
 line penned by the rejoicing wife, invoking heaven's choic- 
 est blessings On the author's head. 
 
 " Is not the laborer worthy of his hire ?" Edna felt that 
 her wages were munificent indeed ; that her coffers were 
 filling, and though the " thank God !" was not audible, the 
 great joy in her uplifted eyes attracted the attention of the 
 
ST. ELMO. 487 
 
 paslor, who had been silently watching her, aid le laid hia 
 hand on hers. 
 
 " What is it, my dear ?" 
 
 " The reward God has given me !" 
 
 She read aloud the contents of the letter, and there 
 was a brief silence, broken at last by Mr. Hammond. 
 
 " Edna, my child, are you really happy ?" 
 
 " So happy that I believe the wealth of California could 
 not buy this sheet of paper, which assures me that I have 
 been instrumental in bringing sunshine to a darkened 
 household ; in calling the head of a family from haunts of 
 vice and midnight orgies back to his wife and children ; 
 back to the shrine of prayer at his own hearthstone ! I 
 have not lived in vain, for through my work a human soul 
 has been brought to Jesus, and I thank God that I am ac- 
 counted worthy to labor in my Lord's vineyard ! Oh ! I 
 will wear that happy wife's blessing in my inmost heart, 
 and like those old bells in Cambridgeshire, inscribed, ' Pes- 
 tern fungo ! Sabbata pango ! ' it shall ring a silvery chime, 
 exorcising all gloom, and loneliness, and sorrow." 
 
 The old man's eyes filled as he saw the almost unearthly 
 radiance of the woman's lovely face. 
 
 " You have indeed cause for gratitude and great joy, as 
 you realize all the good you are destined to accomplish ; 
 and I know the rapture of saving souls, for, through God's 
 grace, I believe I have snatched some from the brink of 
 ruin. But Edna, can the triumph of your genius, the ap- 
 plause of the world, the approval of conscience, even the 
 assurance that you are laboring successfully for the cause 
 of Christ — can all these things satisfy your womanly heart — 
 your loving, tender heart ? My child, there is a dreary 
 look sometimes in your eyes, that reveals loneliness, almost 
 weariness of life. I have studied your countenance closely 
 when it was in repose ; I read it I think without errors ; and 
 as often as I hear your writings praised, I recall those lines, 
 written by one of the noblest of your own sex: 
 
428 ST - ELM0 - 
 
 ' To have our books 
 Appraised by love, associated with love, 
 While we sit loveless 1 is it hard, you think 1 
 At least, 'tis mournful.' 
 
 Edna, are you perfectly contented with your lot ?" 
 
 A shadow drifted slowly over the marble face, and 
 though it settled on no feature, the whole countenance was 
 changed. 
 
 " I can not say that I am perfectly content, and yet I 
 would not exchange places with any woman I know." 
 
 " Do you never regret a step which you took one even- 
 ing,yonder in my church?" 
 
 " No, sir, I do not regret it. I often thank God that I 
 was able to obey my conscience and take that step." 
 
 " Suppose that in struggling up the steep path of duty 
 one soul needs the encouragement, the cheering companion- 
 ship which only one other human being can give ? Will 
 the latter be guiltless if the aid is obstinately withheld ?" 
 
 " Suppose the latter feels that in joining hands both 
 would stumble ?" 
 
 " You would not, O Edna ! you would lift each other to 
 nobler heights ! Each life would be perfect, complete. My 
 child, will you let me tell you some things that ought 
 to " 
 
 She threw up her hand, with that old, childish gesture 
 which he remembered so well, and shook her head. 
 
 " N"o, sir ; no, sir ! Please tell me nothing that will 
 rouse a sorrow I am striving to drug. Spare me, for as St 
 Chrysostom once said of Olympias the deaconess, I ' live in 
 perpetual fellowship with pain.' " 
 
 " My dear little Edna, as I look at you and think of your 
 future, I am troubled about you. I wish I could confi- 
 dently say to you, what St. Chrysostom wrote to Pentadia : 
 ' For I know your great and lofty soul, which can sail as 
 with a fair wind through many tempests, and in the midst 
 of the waves enjoy a xohite calm? " 
 
ST. ELMO. 489 
 
 •.She turned and took the minister's hand in hers, while 
 an indescribable peace settled on her countenance, and 
 stilled the trembling of her low, sweet voice : 
 
 " Across the gray stormy billows of life, that ' white 
 calm ' of eternity is rimming the water-line, coming to meet 
 me. Already the black pilot-boat heaves in sight ; I hear 
 the signal, and Death will soon take the helm and steer my 
 little bark safely into the shining rest, into God's ' white 
 calm.' " 
 
 She went to the piano and sang, as a solo, " Night's 
 Shade no Longer," from Moses in Egypt. 
 
 While the pastor listened, he murmured to himself: 
 
 " Sublime is the faith of a lonely soul, 
 In pain and trouble cherished ; 
 Sublime the spirit of hope that lives 
 When earthly hope has perished." 
 
 She turned over the sheets of music, hunting for a Ger- 
 man hymn of which Mr. Hammond was very fond, but he 
 called her back to the fire-place. 
 
 "My dear, do you recollect that beautiful passage in 
 Faber's 'Sights and Thoughts in Foreign Churches'? 
 ' There is seldom a line of glory written upon the earth's 
 face but a line of suffering runs parallel with it ; and they 
 that read the lustrous syllables of the one, and stoop not to 
 decipher the spotted and worn inscription of the other, get 
 the least half of the lesson earth has to give.' " 
 
 w No, sir ; I never read the book. Something in that 
 passage brings to my mind those words of Martin Luther's, 
 which explain so many of the 'spotted inscriptions' of this 
 earth : ' Our Lord God doth like a printer, who setteth the 
 letters backward. We see and feel well His setting, but 
 we shall read the print yonder, in the life to come !' Mr. 
 Hammond, it is said that, in the Alexandrian MS., in the 
 British Museum, there is a word which has been subjected 
 to microscopic examination, to determine whether it is or^ 
 
490 ST. ELMO. 
 
 who, or dC- -which is the abbreviation of fleo^, God. Some 
 times I think that so ought we to turn the lens oi' faith 
 on many dim perplexing inscriptions traced in human his- 
 tory, and perhaps we might oftener find God." 
 
 " Yes, I have frequently thought that the ms. of every 
 human life was like a Peruvian Quippo, a mass of many- 
 colored cords or threads, tied and knotted by unseen, and, 
 possibly, angel hands. Here, my dear, put these violets in 
 water ; they are withering. By the way, Edna, I am glad 
 to find that in your writings you attach so much importance 
 to the ministry of flowers, and that you call the attention 
 of your readers to the beautiful arguments which they fur- 
 nish, in favor of the Christian philosophy of a divine design 
 in nature. Truly, 
 
 ' Tour voiceless lips, flowers ! are living preachers, 
 Each cup a pulpit, and each leaf a book ; 
 Supplying to my fancy numerous teachers 
 From lowliest nqok.' " 
 
 At this moment the door-bell rang, and soon after the 
 servant brought in a telegraphic dispatch, addressed to Mr. 
 Hammond. 
 
 It was from Gordon Leigh, announcing his arrival in 
 New- York, and stating that he and Gertrude would reach 
 the parsonage some time during the ensuing week. 
 
 Edna went into the kitchen to superintend the prepara- 
 tion of the minister's supper ; and when she returned and 
 placed the waiter oh a table near his chair, she told him 
 that she must go back to New- York immediately after the 
 arrival of Gordon and Gertrude, as her services would no 
 longer be required at the parsonage, and her pupils needed 
 her. 
 
 Two days passed without any further allusion to a sub- 
 ject which was evidently uppermost in Mr. Hammond's 
 mind. 
 
 On the morning of the third, Mrs. Murray said, as she 
 rose to conclude her visit: "You are so much better, sir, 
 
ST. ELMO. 491 
 
 that 1 must claim Edna for a day at least. She has rot yet 
 been to Le Bocage ; and as she goes away so soon, I want to 
 take her home with me this morning. Clara Inge promised 
 me that she would stay with you until evening. Edna, get 
 your bonnet. I shall be entirely alone to-day, for St. Elmo 
 has carried Huldah to the plantation, and they will not get 
 home until late. So, my dear, we shall have the house all 
 to ourselves." 
 
 The orphan could not deny herself the happiness offered ; 
 she knew that she ought not to go, but for once her strength 
 failed her, she yielded to the temptation. 
 
 During the ride Mrs. Murray talked cheerfully of vari- 
 ous things, and for the first time laid entirely aside the 
 haughty constraint which had distinguished her manner 
 since they travelled south from New- York. 
 
 They entered the noble avenue, and Edna gave herself 
 up to the rushing recollections which were so mournfully 
 sweet. As they went into the house, and the servants hur- 
 ried forward to welcome her, she could not repress her 
 tears. She felt that this was her home, her heart's home ; 
 and as numerous familiar objects met her eyes, Mrs. Mur- 
 ray saw that she was almost overpowered by her emotions. 
 
 " I wonder if there is any other place on earth half so 
 beautiful !" murmured the governess several hours later, 
 as they sat looking out over the lawn, where the deer and 
 sheep were browsing. 
 
 " Certainly not, to our partial eyes. And yet without you, 
 my child, it does not seem like home. It is the only 
 home where you will ever be happy." 
 
 " Yes, I know it; but it can not be mine. Mrs. Murray, 
 I want to see my own little room." 
 
 " Certainly ; you know the way. I will join you there 
 presently. Nobody has occupied it since you left, for I feel 
 toward your room as I once felt toward the empty cradle 
 of my dead child." 
 
 Edna went up-stairs alone and closed the door of the 
 
492 ST. ELMO. 
 
 apartment she had so long called hers, and .ouked with 
 childish pleasure and affection at the rosewood furniture. 
 
 Turning to the desk where she had written much that 
 the world now praised and loved, she saw a vase contain- 
 ing a superb bouquet, with a card attached by a strip of 
 ribbon. The hot-house flowers were arranged with exqui- 
 site taste, and the orphan's cheeks glowed suddenly as she 
 recognized Mr. Murray's handwriting on the card : " For 
 Edna Earl." When she took up the bouquet a small en- 
 velope similarly addressed dropped out. 
 
 For some minutes she stood irresolute, fearing to trust 
 herself with the contents ; then she drew a chair to the 
 desk, sat down, and broke the seal : • 
 
 "My Darlixg: Will you not permit me to see you 
 before you leave the parsonage? Knowing the peculiar 
 circumstances that brought you back, I can not take ad- 
 vantage of them and thrust myself into your presence 
 without your consent. I have left home to-day, because I 
 felt assured that, much as you might desire to see 'Le 
 Bocage,' you would never come here while there was a pos- 
 sibility of meeting me. Tou, who know something of my 
 wayward, sinful, impatient character, can perhaps imagine 
 what I suffer, when I am told that your health is wrecked, 
 that you are in the next room, and yet, that I must not, 
 shall not see you — my own Edna! Do you wonder that I 
 almost grow desperate at the thought that only a wall — -a 
 door — separates me from you, whom I love better than my 
 1 ife ? O my darling ! Allow me one more interview ! 
 Do not make my punishment heavier than I can bear. It 
 is hard — it is bitter enough to know that you can not, or 
 will not trust me ; at least let me see your dear face again. 
 Grant me one hour — it may be the last we shall ever spend 
 together in this world. 
 
 " Tour own St. Elmo." 
 
ST. ELMO. 493 
 
 All my God ! pity me ! Why — oh. ! why is it tnat I 
 am tantalked with glimpses of a great joy nevei to bo 
 mine in this life ! Why, in struggling to do my duty, am 
 I brought continually to the very gate of the only Eden I 
 am ever to find in this world, and yet can never surprise 
 the watching Angel of Wrath, *and have to stand shivering 
 outside, and see my Eden only by the flashing of the sword 
 that bars my entrance ?" 
 
 Looking at the chirography, so different from any other 
 which she had ever examined, her thoughts were irresisti- 
 bly carried back to that morning when, at the shop, she 
 saw this handwriting for the first time on the blank leaf of 
 the Dante ; and she recalled the shuddering aversion with 
 which her grandfather had glanced at it, and advised her 
 to commit it to the flames of the forge. 
 
 How many such notes as this had been penned to Annie 
 and Gertrude, and to that wretched woman shut up in an 
 Italian convent, and to others of whose names she was ig- 
 norant ? 
 
 Mrs. Murray opened the door, looked in, and said : 
 " Come, I want to show you something really beautiful." 
 Edna put the note in her pocket, took the bouquet, and 
 followed her friend down-stairs, through the rotunda, to 
 the door of Mr. Murray's sitting-room. 
 
 "My son locked this door and carried the key with him; 
 but after some search, I have found another that will open 
 it. Come in, Edna. Now look at that large painting hang- 
 ing over the sarcophagus. It is a copy of Titian's ' Christ 
 Crowned with Thorns,' the original of which is in a Mi- 
 lanese church, I believe. While St. Elmo was last abroad, 
 he was in Genoa one afternoon when a boat was cap- 
 sized. Being a fine swimmer, he sprang into the water 
 where several persons were struggling, and saved the lives 
 of two little children of an English gentleman, who had his 
 hands quite full in rescuing his wife. Two of the party 
 were drowned but. the father was so grateful to my son, 
 
494 ST - ELMO. 
 
 that he has written him several letters, and U&t year l:e 
 sent him this picture, which, though of course much smaller 
 than the original, is considered a very fine copy. I begged 
 to have it hung in the parlor, but fearing, I suppose, that its 
 history might possibly be discovered, (you know how he 
 despises any thing like a parade of good deeds,) St. Elmo, 
 insisted on bringing it here to this Egyptian Museum, 
 where, unfortunately, people can not see it." 
 
 For some time they stood admiring it, and then Edna's 
 eyes wandered away to the Taj Mahal, to the cabinets and 
 bookcases. Her lip began to quiver as every article of 
 furniture babbled of the By-Gone — of the happy evenings 
 spent here — of that hour when the idea of authorship first 
 seized her mind and determined her future. 
 
 Mrs. Murray walked up to the arch, over which the cur- 
 tains fell touching the floor, and laying her hand on the 
 folds of silk, said hesitatingly : 
 
 "I am going to show you something that my son would 
 not easily forgive me for betraying ; for it is a secret he 
 guards most jealously " 
 
 " No, I would rather not see it. I wish to learn nothing 
 which Mr. Murray is not willing that I should know." 
 
 " You will scarcely betray me to my son when you see 
 what it is ; and besides, I am determined you shall have no 
 room to doubt the truth of some things he has told you. 
 There is no reason why you should not look at it. Do you 
 recognize that face yonder, over the mantel-piece ?" 
 
 She held the curtains back, and despite her reluctance to 
 glancing into the inner room, Edna raised her eyes timidly, 
 and saw, in a richly-carved oval frame, hanging on the op- 
 posite wall, a life-size portrait of herself. 
 
 " We learned from the newspapers that some fine photo- 
 graphs had been taken in New- York, and I sent on and 
 bought two. St. Elmo took one of them to an artist in 
 Charleston, and superintended the painting of that portrait. 
 When he returned, just before I went North, he brought 
 
ST. ELMO. 
 
 the picture wLh him, and with his own hands hung it yon- 
 der. I have noticed that since that day he always keeps 
 the curtains down over the arch, and never leaves the house 
 without locking his rooms." 
 
 Edna had dropped her crimsoned face in her hands, but 
 Mrs. Murray raised it forcibly and kissed her. 
 
 " I want you to know how well he loves you — how ne- 
 cessary you are to his happiness. Now I must leave you, 
 for I see Mrs. Montgomery's carriage at the door. You 
 have a note to answer ; there are writing materials on the 
 table yonder." 
 
 She went out, closing the door softly, and Edna was 
 alone with reminiscences that pleaded piteously for the ab- 
 sent master. Oxalis and heliotrope peeped at her over the 
 top of the lotos vases ; one of a pair of gauntlets had fallen 
 on the carpet near the cameo cabinet ; two or three news- 
 papers and a meerschaum lay upon a chair ; several theolo- 
 gical works were scattered on the sofa, and the air was 
 heavy with lingering cigar-smoke. 
 
 Just in front of the Taj Mahal was a handsome copy of 
 Edna's novel, and a beautiful morocco-bound volume con 
 tabling a collection of all her magazine sketches. 
 
 She sat down in the crimson-cushioned arm-chair that 
 was drawn close to the circular table, where pen and pa- 
 per told that the owner had recently been writing, and 
 near the inkstand was a handkerchief with German initials, 
 
 £»; IB. ffi. 
 
 Upon a mass of loose papers stood a quaint bronze paper- 
 weight, representing Cartaphilus, the "Wandering Jew; and 
 On the base was inscribed Mr. Murray's favorite Arabian 
 maxim : " JEd dilnya djifetun ve talibeha kilab" : " The 
 world is an abomination, and those who toil about it are 
 dogs." 
 
 There, too, was her own little Bible ; and as she took it 
 up it opened at the fourteenth chapter of St. John, where 
 she found, as a book-mark, the photograph of herself from 
 
496 ST. ELMO. 
 
 which the portrait had been painted. An nnwithered gera- 
 nium sprig lying among the leaves, whispered that the 
 pages had been read that morning. 
 
 Out on the lawn birds swung in the elm-twigs, singing 
 cheerily, lambs bleated and ran races, and the little silver 
 bell on Huldah's pet fawn, " Edna," tinkled ceaselessly. 
 
 "Help nn, O my God! in this the last hour of my 
 trial." 
 
 The prayer went up moaningly, and Edna took a pen and 
 turned to write. Her arm struck a portfolio lying on the 
 edge of the table, and in falling loose sheets of paper flut- 
 tered out on the carpet. One caught her eye ; she picked 
 it up, and found a sketch of the ivied ruins of Phyle. Un- 
 derneath the drawing, and dated fifteen years before, were 
 traced, in St. Elmo's writing, those lines, which Henry 
 Soame is said to have penned on the blank leaf of a copy 
 of the " Pleasures of Memory" : 
 
 " Memory makes her influence known 
 By sighs, and tears, and grief alone. 
 I greet her as the fiend, to whom belong 
 The vulture's ravening beak, the raven's funeral eong 1 
 She tells of time misspent, of comfort lost, 
 Of fair occasions gone for ever by ; 
 Of hopes too fondly nursed, too rudely crossed, 
 Of many a cause to wish, yet fear to die ; 
 For what, except the instinctive fear 
 Lest she survive, detains me here, 
 When aU the ' Life of Life' is fled V 
 
 The lonely woman looked upward, appealingly, and there 
 upon the wall she met — not as formerly, the gleaming, au- 
 gurous, inexorable eyes of the Cimbrian Prophetess — but 
 the pitying God's gaze of Titian's Jesus. 
 
 When Mrs. Murray returned to the room, Edna sat as 
 Btill as one of the mummies in the sarcophagus, with her 
 head thrown back, and the long, black eyelashes sweeping 
 her colorless cheeks. 
 
ST. ELMO. 497 
 
 One hand was pressed over her heart, the other hold a 
 note d.rected to St. Elmo Murray; and the cold, fixed fta- 
 tux-es were so like those of an Angel of Death sometimes 
 sculptured on cenotaphs, that Mrs. Murray uttered a cry oi 
 alarm. 
 
 As she bent over her, Edna opened her arms and said in 
 a feeble, spent tone : 
 
 " Take me back to the parsonage. I ought not to have 
 come here ; I might have known I was not strong enough." 
 
 " You have had one of those attacks. Why did you not 
 call me ? I will bring you some wine." 
 
 " No ; only let me go away as soon as possible. Oh ! I 
 am ashamed of my weakness." 
 
 She rose, and her pale lips writhed as her sad eyes wan- 
 dered in a farewell glance around the room. 
 
 She put. the unsealed note in Mrs. Murray's hard, and 
 turned toward the door. 
 
 " Edna ! My daughter ! you have not refused St. Elmo's 
 request ?" 
 
 " My mo :her ! Pity me ! I could not grant it." 
 
CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 HEY have come. I hear Gertrude's birdish voice." 
 The words had scarcely passed Mr. Ham- 
 mond's lips ere his niece bounded into the room, 
 followed by her husband. 
 
 Edna was sitting on the chintz-covered lounge, mending 
 a basketful of the old man's clothes that needed numerous 
 stitches and buttons, and, throwing aside her sewing mate- 
 rials, she rose to meet the travellers. 
 
 At sight of her Gordon Leigh stopped suddenly, and his 
 face grew instantly as bloodless as her own. 
 
 " Edna ! Oh ! how changed ! What a wreck !" 
 
 He grasped her outstretched hand, folded it in his, which 
 trembled violently, and a look of anguish mastered his fea- 
 tures, as his eyes searched her calm countenance. 
 
 "I did not think it would come so soon. Passing away 
 in the early morning of your life !* O my pure, broken 
 lily !" 
 
 He did not seem to heed his wife's presence, until she 
 threw her arms around Edna, exclaiming : 
 
 " Get away, Gordon ! I want her all to myself. Why, 
 you pale darling ! What a starved ghost you are ! Not 
 half as substantial as my shadow, is she, Gordon ? O Edna ! 
 how I have longed to see you, to tell you how I enjoyed 
 your dear, delightful, grand, noble book ! To tell you what 
 a great woman I think you are ; and how proud of you I 
 *am. A gentleman who came over in the steamer with us, 
 asked me how much you paid me per annum to puff you. 
 
ST. ELMO. 499 
 
 lie was a miserable old cynic of a bachelor, iidicuiled all 
 women unmercifully, and at last I told him I would bet 
 both my ears that the reason he was so bearish and hateful, 
 was because some pretty girl had flirted with him outrage- 
 ously. He turned up his ugly nose especially at 'blue 
 stockings ;' said all literary women were ' hopeless pedants 
 and slatterns,' and quoted that abominable Horace Walpole's 
 account of Lady Mary Wortley Montagu's ' dirt and vivaci- 
 ty.' I really thought Gordon would throw him overboard. 
 I wonder what he would say if he could see you darning 
 Uncle Allan's socks. Edna, dearie ! I am sorry to find 
 you looking so pale." 
 
 All this was uttered interjectionally between vigorous 
 hugs and warm, tender kisses, and as Gertrude threw hei 
 bonnet and wrappings on the lounge," she continued : 
 
 " I wished for you just exactly ten thousand times while 
 I was abroad, there were so many things that you could 
 have described so beautifully. Gordon, don't Edna's eyes 
 remind you very much of that divine picture of the Ma- 
 donna at Dresden ?" 
 
 She looked round for an answer, but her husband had 
 left the room, and, recollecting a parcel that had been 
 stowed away in the pocket of the carriage, she ran out to 
 get it. 
 
 Presently she reappeared at the door, with a goblet in 
 her hand. 
 
 " Uncle Allan, who carries the keys now ?" 
 
 " Edna. "What will you have, my dear ?" 
 
 "I want some brandy. Gordon looks very pale, and 
 complains of not feeling well, so I intend to make him a 
 mint-julep. Ah Edna ! These husbands are such trouble- 
 some creatures." 
 
 She left the room jingling the bunch of keys, and a few 
 moments after they heard her humming an air from " Rigo- 
 letto," as she bent over the mint-bed, under the study- win- 
 dow. 
 
500 ST. ELMO. 
 
 Mr. Hammond, who had observed all thai passed, an S. 
 saw the earnest distress clouding the orphan's brow, said 
 gravely : 
 
 " She has not changed an iota ; she never will be any 
 thing more than a beautiful, merry child, and is a mere 
 pretty pet, not a companion in the true sense of the word. 
 She is not quick-witted, or she would discern a melancholy 
 truth that might overshadow all her life. Unless Gordon 
 learns more self-control, he will ere long betray himself. I 
 expostulated with him before his marriage, but for once he 
 threw my warning to the winds. I am an old man, and 
 have seen many phases of human nature, and watched the 
 development of many characters ; and I have found that 
 these pique marriages are always mournful— always disas- 
 trous. In such instances I would with more pleasure offici 
 ate at the grave than at the altar. Once Estelle and Agnes 
 persuaded me that St. Elmo was about to wreck himself on 
 this rock of ruin, and even his mother's manner led me to 
 believe that he would marry his cousin ; but, thank God ! 
 he was wiser than I feared." 
 
 " Mr. Hammond, are you sure that Gertrude loves Mr. 
 Leigh ?" 
 
 " Oh ! yes, my dear ! Of that fact there can be no doubt. 
 "Why do you question it ?" 
 
 " She told me once that Mr. Murray had won her heart." 
 
 It was the first time Edna had mentioned his name since 
 her return, and it brought a faint flush to her cheeks. 
 
 " That was a childish whim which she has utterly for- 
 gotten. A woman of her temperament never remains at- 
 tached to a man from whom she is long separated. I do 
 not suppose that she remembered St. Elmo a month, after 
 6he ceased to meet him. I feel assured that she loves Gor- 
 don as well as she can love any one. She is a remarkably 
 sweet-tempered, unselfish, gladsome woman, but is not 
 capable of very deep, lasting feeling." 
 
 " I will go away at once. This is Saturday, and I will 
 
ST. ELMO. 501 
 
 start to New- York early Monday morning. Mr leigh ia 
 weaker than I ever imagined he could be." 
 
 The outline of her mouth hardened, and .into her eyea 
 crept an expression of scorn, that very rarely found a har- 
 bor there. 
 
 " Yes, my dear ; although it grieves me to part with 
 you, I know it is best that you should not be here, at least 
 for the present. Agnes is visiting friends at the North, 
 and when she returns, Gordon and Gertrude will remove to 
 their new house. Then Edna, if I feel that I need you, if I 
 Avrite for you, will you not come back to me ? Dear child, 
 I want your face to be the last I look upon in this world." 
 
 She drew the pastor's shrunken hand to her lips, and 
 shook her head. 
 
 " Do not ask me to do that which my strength will not 
 permit. There are many reasons why I ought not to come 
 here again ; and moreover, my work calls me hence, to a 
 distant field. My physical strength seems to be ebbing fast, 
 and my vines are not all purple with mellow fruit. Some 
 clusters, thank God ! are fragrant, ripe, and ready for the 
 wine-press, when the Angel of the Vintage comes to gather 
 them in ; but my work is only half done. Not until my 
 fingers clasp white flowers under a pall, shall it be said of 
 me, ' Yet a little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of 
 the hands to sleep.' In coelo quies ! The German idea of 
 death is to me peculiarly comforting and touching, ' Heim- 
 gang ' — g®ing home. Ah sir ! humanity ought to be home- 
 sick ; and in thinking of that mansion beyond the star- 
 paved pathway of the sky, whither Jesus has gone to pre- 
 pare our places, we children of earth should, like the Swiss, 
 never lose our home-sickness. Our bodies are of the dust — 
 dusty, and bend dustward ; but our souls floated down from 
 the sardonyx walls of the Everlasting City, and brought 
 with them a yearning maladie du pays, which should help 
 them to struggle back. Sometimes I am tempted to believe 
 that the joys of this world are the true lotos, devouring 
 
602 ST. ELMO. 
 
 which, mankind glory in exile, and forget the Heimgang 
 It is mournfully true that — 
 
 ' Earth fills her lap with pleasures of her own ; 
 And, even with something of a mother's mind, 
 
 And no unworthy aim, 
 
 The homely nurse doth all she can 
 To make her foster-child, her inmate man, 
 
 Forget the glories he hath known, 
 And that imperial palace whence he came.' 
 
 Oh ! indeed, ' here we have no continuing city, but seek 
 one to come.' Heimgang ! Thank God ! going home for 
 ever !" 
 
 The splendor of the large eyes seemed almost unearthly 
 as she looked out over the fields, where in summers past 
 the shout of the merry reapers rose like the songs of Greek 
 harvesters to Demeter ? Nay, nay, as a hymn of gratitude 
 and praise to Him who ' feedeth the fowls of the air,' and 
 maketh the universe a vast Sarepta, in which the cruse 
 never faileth the prophets of God. Edna sat silent for 
 some time, with her slender hands folded on her lap, and 
 the pastor heard her softly repeating, as if to her own soul, 
 those noble hues on " Life :" 
 
 " A cry between the silences, 
 A shadow-birth of clouds at strife 
 With sunshine on the hills of life ; 
 Between the cradle and the shroud, 
 A meteor's flight from cloud to cloud I" 
 
 Several hours later, when Mr. Leigh returned to the 
 study, he fbund Edna singing some of the minister's favor- 
 ite Scotch ballads ; while Gertrude rested on the lounge, 
 half pro pped on her elbow, and leaning forward to dangle 
 the cord and tassel of her robe de chambre within reach of 
 an energetic little blue-eyed kitten, which, with its paws in 
 the air, rolled on the carpet, catching at the silken toy, 
 
ST ELMO. 503 
 
 The governess left the piano, and resumed her mending of 
 7 the contents of the clothes-basket. 
 
 In answer to some inquiries of Mr. Hammond, Mr. Leigh 
 gave a brief account of bis travels in Southern Europe ; 
 but his manner was constrained, his thoughts evidently 
 preoccupied. Once his eyes wandered to the round, rosy, 
 dimpling face of his exquisitely beautiful child-wife, and he 
 frowned, bit his lip, and sighed ; while his gaze, earnest and 
 mournfully anxious, returned and dwelt upon the weary 
 but serene and noble countenance of the orphan. 
 
 In the conversation, which had turned accidentally upon 
 philology and the mss. of the Vatican, Gertrude took no 
 part ; now and then glancing up at the speakers, she con- 
 tinued her romp with the kitten. At length, tired of her 
 frolicsome pet, she rose with a partially suppressed yawn, 
 and sauntered up to her husband's chair. Softly and lov- 
 ingly her pretty little pink palms were passed over her hus- 
 band's darkened brow, and her fingers drew his hair now 
 on one side, now on the other, while she peeped over hia 
 shoulder to watch the effect of the arrangement. 
 
 The caresses were inopportune, her touch annoyed him. 
 He shook it off, and, stretching out his arm, put her gently 
 but firmly away, saying, coldly : 
 
 " There is a chair, Gertrude." 
 
 Edna's eyes looked steadily into his, with an expression 
 of grave, sorrowful reproof — of expostulation ; and the flush 
 deepened on his face as his eyes fell before her rebuking 
 gaze. 
 
 Perhaps the young wife had become accustomed to such 
 rebuffs ; at all events she evinced neither mortification nor 
 surprise, but twirled her silk tassel vigorously around her 
 finger, and exclaimed : 
 
 " O Gordon ! have you not forgotten to give Edna that 
 letter, written by the gentleman we met at Palermo? 
 Edna, he paid your book some splendid compliments. I 
 fairly clapped my hands at his praises — didn't I, Gordon ?" 
 
504 ST - ELMO 
 
 Mr. Leigh drew a letter from the inside pocket of hia 
 coat, and, as he gave it to the orphan, said with a touch of 
 bitterness in his tone : 
 
 "Pardon my negligence; probably you will find little 
 news in it, as he is one of your old victims, and you can 
 guess its contents.' 1. 
 
 The letter was from Sir Roger ; and while he expressed 
 
 great grief at hearing, through Mr. Manning's notes, that 
 
 i her health was seriously impaired, he renewed the offer of 
 
 his hand, and asked permission to come and plead his suit 
 
 in person. 
 
 As Edna hurriedly glanced over the pages, and put them 
 in her pocket, Gertrude said gayly, "Shame on you, 
 Gordon ! Do you mean to say, or, rather to insinuate, that 
 all who read Edna's book are victimized ?" 
 
 He looked at her from under thickening eyebrows, and 
 replied with undisguised impatience : 
 
 " No ; your common-sense ought to teach you that such 
 was not my meaning or intention. Edna places no such in- 
 terpretation on my words." 
 
 " Common-sense ! O Gordon, dearie ! how unreasonable 
 you are ! Why, you have told me a thousand times that 
 I had not a particle of common-sense, except on the sub- 
 ject of juleps ; and how, then, in the name of wonder, can 
 you expect me to show any ? I never pretended to be a 
 great shining genius like Edna, whose writings all the 
 world is talking about. I only want to be wise enough to 
 understand you, dearie, and make you happy. Gordon, 
 don't you feel any better ? What makes your face so red ?" 
 
 She went back to his chair, and leaned her lovely head 
 close to his, while an anxious expression filled her large 
 blue eyes. 
 
 Gordon Leigh realized that his marriage was a terrible 
 mistake, which only death could rectify ; but even in hia 
 wretchedness he was just, blaming only himself — exonerat- 
 ing his wife. Had he not wooed the love of which, already, 
 
ST. ELMO. 505 
 
 he was weary? Having deceived her at the altar, was 
 there justification for his dropping the mask at the hearth- 
 stone ? Nay, the skeleton must be thrust out of sight, her- 
 metically sealed ; there should be no rattling of skull and 
 cross-bones to freeze the blood in the sweet laughing face 
 of the trusting bride. 
 
 Now her clinging tenderness, her affectionate humility, 
 upbraided him as no harsh words could possibly have done. 
 With a smothered sigh he passed his arm around her, and 
 drew her closer to his side. 
 
 " At least my little wife is wise enough to teach her hus- 
 band to be ashamed of his petulance." 
 
 "And quite wise enough, dear Gertrude, to make him 
 very proud and happy ; for you ought to be able to say with 
 the sweetest singer in all merry England : 
 
 ' But I look up, and he looks down, 
 
 And thus our married eyes can meet ; 
 Unclouded Ms, and clear of frown, 
 And gravely sweet.' " 
 
 As Edna glanced at the young wife and uttered these 
 words, a mist gathered in her own eyes, and collecting her 
 sewing utensils she went to her room to pack her trunk. 
 
 During her stay at the parsonage she had not attended 
 service in the church, because Mr. Hammond was lonely, 
 and her Sabbaths were spent in reading to him. But her 
 old associates in the choir insisted that, before she returned 
 to New- York, she should sing with them once more. 
 
 Thus far she had declined all invitations; but on the 
 morning of the last day of her visit, the organist called to 
 say that a distinguished divine, from a distant State, would 
 fill Mr. Hammond's pulpit ; and as the best and leading so- 
 prano in the choir was disabled by severe cold, and could 
 not be present, he begged that Edna would take her place, 
 and sing a certain solo in the music which he had selected 
 for an opening piece. Mr. Hammond, who was pardonably 
 
506 ST - ELMO. 
 
 proud of his choir, was anxious that the stranger should be 
 greeted and inspired by fine music, and urged Edna's com- 
 pliance with the request. 
 
 Reluctantly she consented, and for the first time Duty and 
 Love seemed to signal a truce, to shake hands over the pre- 
 liminaries of a treaty for peace. 
 
 As she passed through the churchyard and ascended the 
 steps, where a group of Sabbath-school children sat talking, 
 her eyes involuntarily sought the dull brown spot on the 
 marble. 
 
 Over it little Herbert Inge had spread his white handker 
 chief, and piled thereon his Testament and catechism, laying 
 on the last one, of those gilt-bordered and handsome pic- 
 torial cards, containing a verse from the Scriptures, which 
 are frequently distributed by Sabbath-school teachers. 
 
 Edna stooped and looked at the picture covering the 
 blood-stain. It represented our Saviour on the Mount, de- 
 livering the sermon, and in golden letters were printed his 
 words : 
 
 " Judge not, that ye be not judged. For with what 
 judgment ye judge, ye shall be judged ; and with what 
 measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again." 
 
 The eyes of the Divine Preacher seemed to look into 
 hers, and the outstretched hand to^point directly at her. 
 
 She trembled, and hastily kissing the sweet red lips 
 which little Herbert held up to her, she went in and up to 
 the gallery. 
 
 The congregation assembled slowly ; and as almost all 
 the faces were familiar to Edna, each arrival revived some 
 reminiscence of the past. Here the flashing silk flounces 
 of a young belle brushed the straight black folds of widow's 
 weeds ; on the back of one seat was stretched the rough 
 brown hand of a poor, laboring man ; on the next lay the 
 dainty fingers of a matron of wealth and fashion, who had 
 entirely forgotten to draw a glove over hsr sparkling dia« 
 monds 
 
st. zzmo. 507 
 
 In all the splendor of velvet, feathers, and sea-green 
 moire, Mrs. Montgomery sailed proudly into her pew, con- 
 voying her daughter Maud, who was smiling and whisper 
 ing to her escort ; and just behind them came a plainly- 
 clad but happy young mechanic, a carpenter, clasping to 
 his warm, honest heart the arm of his sweet-faced, gentle 
 wife, and holding the hand of his rosy-cheeked, bright-eyed, 
 three-year-old boy, who toddled along, staring at the bril- 
 liant pictures on the windows. 
 
 When Mr. Leigh and Gertrude entered there was a gen- 
 eral stir, a lifting of heads and twisting of necks, in order 
 to ascertain what new styles of bonnet, lace, and mantle 
 prevailed in Paris. 
 
 A moment after, Mrs. Murray walked slowly down the 
 aisle, and Edna's heart seemed to stand still as she saw Mr 
 Murray's powerful form. He stepped forward, and while 
 he opened the door of the pew, and waited for his mother 
 to seat herself, his. face was partially visible; then he sat 
 down, closing the door. 
 
 The minister entered, and, as he ascended the pulpit, the 
 organ began to breathe its solemn welcome. When the 
 choir rose and commenced their chorus, Edna stood silent, 
 with her book in her hand, and her eyes fixed on the Mur- 
 rays' pew. 
 
 The strains of triumph ceased, the organ only sobbed its 
 sympathy to the thorn-crowned Christ, struggling along 
 the Via Dolorosa, and the orphan's quivering lips parted, 
 and she sang her solo. 
 
 As her magnificent voice rose and rolled to the arched 
 roof, people forgot propriety, and turned to look at the 
 singer. She saw Mrs. Murray start and glance eagerly up 
 at her, and for an instant the grand pure voice faltered 
 slightly, as Edna noticed that the mother whispered some- 
 thing to the son. But he did not turn his proud head, ha 
 only leaned his elbow on the side of the pew next to the 
 aisle 5 and rested his temple on his hand. 
 
508 ST. ELMO. 
 
 "When the preliminary services ended, and the minister 
 stood up in the shining pulpit and commenced his discourse, 
 Edna felt that St. Elmo had at last enlisted angels in his 
 behalf; for the text was contained in the warning, whose 
 gilded letters hid the blood-spot, " Judge not, that ye be 
 not "udged." 
 
 As far as two among his auditory were concerned, the 
 preacher might as well have addressed his sermon to the 
 mossy slabs, visible through the windows. Both listened 
 to the text, and neither heard any more. Edna sat looking 
 down at Mi\ Murray's massive, finely-poised head, and she 
 could see the profile contour of features, regular and dark, 
 as if carved and bronzed: 
 
 During the next half-hour her vivid imagination sketched 
 and painted a vision of enchantment — of what might have 
 been, if that motionless man below, there in the crimson- 
 cushioned pew,had only kept his soul from grievous sins. 
 A vision of a happy, proud, young wife reigning at Le Bo- 
 cage, shedding the warm rosy light of her love over the 
 lonely life of its master ; adding to his strong clear intel- 
 lect and ripe experience, the silver flame of her genius ; bor- 
 rowing from him broader and more profound views of her 
 race, on which to base her ideal aesthetic structures ; soften- 
 ing, refining his nature, strengthening her own ; helping 
 him to help humanity ; loving all good, being good, doing 
 good ; serving and worshipping God together ; walking 
 hand in hand with her husband through earth's wide valley 
 of Baca, with peaceful faces full of faith, looking heaven- 
 ward. 
 
 " God pity them both 1 and pity us all, 
 Who vainly the dreams of youth recall. 
 For of all sad words of tongue or pen, 
 The saddest are these, ' It might have been 1' " 
 
 At last, with a faint moan, which reached no ear but that 
 of Him who never slumbers, Edna withdrew her eyes from 
 
8T. ELMO. 50& 
 
 the spot where Mr. Murray sat, and raised them towaid the 
 pale Christ, whose wan lips seemed to murmur ■ 
 
 " Be of good cheer ! He that overcometh shall inherit 
 all things. What I do, thou knowest not now, but thou 
 shalt know hereafter." 
 
 The minister standing beneath the picture of the Master 
 whom he served, closed the Bible and ended his discourse 
 by hurling his text as a thunderbolt at those whose up- 
 turned faces watched him : 
 
 " Finally, brethren, remember under all circumstances 
 the awful admonition of Jesus, ' Judge not, that ye be not 
 judged !' " 
 
 The organ peals and the doxology were concluded ; the 
 benediction fell like God's dew, alike on sinner and on 
 saint, and amid the solemn moaning of the gilded pipes, 
 the congregation turned to quit the church. 
 
 With both hands pressed over her heart, Edna leaned 
 heavily against the railing. 
 
 " To-morrow I go away for ever. I shall never see his 
 face again in this world. Oh ! I want to look at it once 
 more." 
 
 As he stepped into the aisle, Mr. Murray threw his head 
 back slightly, and his eyes swept up to the gallery and met 
 hers. It was a long, eager, heart-searching gaze. She saw 
 a countenance more fascinating than of old ; for the sardonic 
 glare had gone, the bitterness, " the dare-man, dare-brute, 
 dare-devil " expression had given place to a stern mourn- 
 fulness, and the softening shadow of deep contrition and 
 manly sorrow hovered over features where scoffing cyni- 
 cism had so long scowled. 
 
 The magnetism of St. Elmo's eyes was never more mar- 
 vellous than when they rested on the beautiful white face 
 of the woman he loved so well, whose calm holy eyes shone 
 like those of an angel, as they looked sadly down at his. 
 In the mystical violet light with which the rich stained 
 glass flooded the church, that pallid, suffering face, sublime 
 
510 ST. ELMO. 
 
 in its meekness and resignation, hung above him, like one 
 of Perugino's saints over kneeling mediaeval worshippers. 
 As the moving congregation bore him nearer to the door, 
 she leaned farther over the mahogany balustrade, and a 
 snowy crocus which she wore at her throat, snapped its 
 brittle stem and floated down till it touched his shoulder 
 He laid one hand over it, holding it there, and while & 
 prayer burned in his splendid eyes, hers smiled a melan- 
 choly farewell. The crowd swept the tall form forward, 
 under the arches, beyond the fluted columns of the gallery 
 and the long gaze ended. 
 
 " Ait ! well, for us all some sweet hope liea 
 Deeply buried from human eyes ; 
 And, in the hereafter, angels may 
 Boll the stone from its grave away 1" 
 
CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 AM truly thankful that you have returned ! I 
 am quite worn out trying to humor Felix'a 
 whims, and take your place. He has actually 
 lost ten pounds ; and if you had staid away a 
 month longer I think it would have finished my poor boy, 
 who has set you up as an idol in his heai*t. He almost had 
 a spasm last week, when his father told him he had better 
 reconcile himself to your absence, as he believed that you 
 would never come back to the drudgery of the school-room. 
 I am very anxious about him ; his health is more feeble 
 than it has been since he was five years old. My dear, you 
 have no idea how you have been missed ! Your admirers 
 call by scores to ascertain when you may be expected 
 home ; and I do not exaggerate in the least when I say, 
 that there is a champagne basketful of periodicals and let- 
 ters up-stairs,that have arrived recently. You will find 
 them piled on the table and desk in your room." 
 
 " Where are the children ?" asked Edna, glancing around 
 the sitting-room into which Mrs. Andrews had drawn her. 
 
 " Hattie is spending the day with Lila Manning, who is 
 just recovering from a severe attack of scarlet fever, and 
 Felix is in the library trying to sleep. He has one of hia 
 nervous headaches to-day. Poor fellow ! he tries so hard 
 to overcome his irritable temper and to grow patient, that 
 I am growing fonder of him every day. How travel-spent 
 
512 ST. ELMO. 
 
 and ghastly you are ! Sit down, and I will order seme re 
 freshments. Take this wine, my dear, and presently jou 
 shall have a cup of chocolate." 
 
 " Thank you, not any wine. I only want to see Felix." 
 
 She went to the library, cautiously opened the door, and 
 crept softly across the floor to the end of the sofa. 
 
 The boy lay looking through the window, and up beyond 
 the walls and chimneys, at the sapphire pavement, where 
 rolled the burning sun. Casual observers thought the crip- 
 ple's face ugly and disagreeable ; but the tender, loving 
 «mile that lighted the countenance of the governess as she 
 leaned forward, told that some charm lingered in the sharp- 
 ened features overcast with sickly sallowness. In his large, 
 deep-set eyes, over which the heavy brows arched like a 
 roof, she saw now a strange expression that frightened her, 
 Was it the awful shadow of the Three Singing Spinners, 
 whom Catullus painted at the wedding of Peleus ? As the 
 child looked into the blue sky, did he catch a glimpse of 
 their trailing white robes, purple-edged — of their floating 
 rose-colored veils ? Above all, did he hear the unearthly 
 chorus which they chanted as they spun ? 
 
 " Currite ducentes, subtemina curritefusi /" 
 
 The governess was seized by a vague apprehension as 
 she watched her pupil, and bending down she said fondly : 
 
 " Felix, my darling, I have come back ! Never again 
 while I live will I leave you." 
 
 The almost bewildering joy that flashed into his counte- 
 nance mutely but eloquently welcomed her, as kneeling be- 
 side the sofa she wound her arms around him, and drew his 
 head to her shoulder. 
 
 " Edna, is Mr. Hammond dead ?" 
 
 " No, he is almost well again, and needs me no more." 
 
 " I need you more than any body else ever did. O 
 
 Edna ! I thought sometimes you would stay at the South 
 
 that you love so well, and I should see you no more ; and 
 
 ben all the light seemed to die out of the world, and the 
 
ST. ELMO. 513 
 
 flowers were not sweet, and the stars were not bright, and 
 oh ! I was glad I had not long to live.'' 
 
 " Hush ! you must not talk so. How do you know that 
 you may not live as long as Ahasuerus, the ' Everlasting 
 Jew' ? My dear little boy, in all this wide earth, you are 
 the only one whom I have to love and to cling to, and we 
 will be happy together. Darling, your head aches to-day ? " 
 
 She pressed her lips twice to his hot forehead. 
 
 " Yes ; but the heart-ache was much the hardest to bear 
 until you came. Mamma has been very good and kind, 
 and staid at home and read to me ; but I wanted you, Edna. 
 I do not believe I have been wicked since you left ; for I 
 prayed all the while that God would bring you back to me. 
 I have tried hard to be patient." 
 
 With her cheek nestled against his, Edna told him many 
 things that had occurred during their separation, and no- 
 ticed that his eyes brightened suddenly and strangely. 
 
 " Edna, I have a secret to tell you ; something that even 
 mamma is not to know just now. You must not laugh at 
 me. While you were gone I wrote a little MS., and it is 
 dedicated to you ! and some day I hope it will be printed,, 
 Are you glad, Edna ? My beautiful, pale Edna !" 
 
 " Felix, I am very glad you love me sufficiently to dedi- 
 cate your little ms. to me ; but, my dear boy, I must see it 
 before I can say I am glad you wrote it." 
 
 " If you had been here, it would not have been written, 
 because then I should merely have talked out all the ideas 
 to you ; but you were far away, and so I talked to my 
 paper. After all, it was only a dream. One night I was 
 feverish, and mamma read aloud those passages that you 
 marked in that great book, Maury's Physical Geography 
 of the Sea, that you admire and quote so often ; and of 
 which I remember you said once, in talking to Mr. Man- 
 ning, that ' it rolled its warm, beautiful, sparkling waves 
 of thought across the cold, gray sea of science, just like the 
 Gulf Stream it treated of.' Two of the descriptions which 
 
514 ST. ELMO. 
 
 mamma read, were so splendid that they rang in my eari 
 like the music of the Swiss Bell-Ringers. One was the ac- 
 count of the atmosphere, by Dr. Buist of Bombay, and the 
 other was the description of the Indian Ocean, which was 
 quoted from Schleiden's Lecture. My fever was high, and 
 when at last I went to sleep, I had a queer dream about 
 madrepores and medusas, and I wrote it down as well as I 
 could, and called it ' Algaa Adventures, in a Voyage Round 
 the World.' Edna, I have stolen something from you, and 
 as you will be sure to find it out when you read my little 
 story, where there is a long, hard word missing in the ms., 
 I will tell you about it now. Do you recollect talking to 
 me one evening, when we were walking on the beach at 
 The Willows, about some shell-clad animalcula, which you 
 said were so very small that Professor Schultze, of Bonn, 
 found no less than a million and a half of their minute shells 
 in an ounce of pulverized quartz, from the shore of Mola di 
 Gaeta ? Well, I put all you told me in my little ms. ; but, 
 for my life, I could not think of the name of the class to 
 which they belong. Do you recollect it ?" 
 
 " Let me think a moment. Was it not Foraminifera ?" 
 " That's the identical word — ' Foraminifera !' No won- 
 der I could not thiuk of it ! Six syllables tied up in a sci- 
 entific knot. Phew ! it makes my head ache worse to try 
 to recollect it. How stoop-shouldered your memory must 
 be from carrying such heavy loads ! It is a regular camel." 
 " Yes ; it is a meek, faithful beast of burden, and will 
 very willingly bear the weight of that scientific name until 
 you want to use it •, so do not tax your mind now. You 
 Raid you stole it from me, but my dear, ambitious author- 
 ling, my little round-jacket scribbler, I wish you to under- 
 stand distinctly that I do not consider that I have been 
 robbed. The fact was discovered by Professor Schultze, 
 and bequeathed by him to the world. From that instant 
 it became universal, common property, which any man, 
 woman, or child may use at pleasure, provided a tribute 
 
ST. ELMO. 515 
 
 of gratitude is paid to the donor. Every individual is in 
 some sort an intellectual bank, issuing bills of ideas, (^ery 
 often specious, but not always convertible into gold cr sil- 
 ver ;) and now, my precious little boy, recollect that just 
 as long as I have any capital left, you can borrow ; and 
 some day I will turn Shylock, and make you pay me with 
 usury." 
 
 " Edna, I should like above all things to write a book of 
 stories for poor, sick children ; little tales that would make 
 them forget their suffering and deformity. If I could even 
 reconcile one lame boy to being shut up in-doors, while 
 others are shouting and skating in the sunshine, I should 
 not feel as if I were so altogether useless in the world. 
 Edna, do you think that I ever shall be able to do so ?" 
 
 " Perhaps so, dear Felix ; certainly, if God wills it. 
 When you are stronger we will study and write together, 
 but to-day you must compose yourself and be silent. Your 
 fever is rising." 
 
 " The doctor left some medicine yonder in that goblet, 
 but mamma has forgotten to give it to me. I will take a 
 spoonful now, if you please." 
 
 His face was much flushed ; and as she kissed him and 
 turned away, he exclaimed : 
 
 " Oh ! where are you going ?" 
 
 " To my room, to take off my bonnet." 
 
 "Do not be gone long. I am so happy now that you are 
 here again. But I don't want you to get out of my sight 
 Come back soon, and bathe my head." 
 
 On the following day, when Mr. Manning called to wel- 
 come her home, he displayed an earnestness and depth of 
 feeling which surprised the governess. Putting his hand 
 on her arm, he said in a tone that had lost its metallic 
 ring: 
 
 " How fearfully changed since I saw you last ! I knew 
 you were not strong enough to endure the trial ; and if I 
 had had a right to interfere, you should never have gone." 
 
516 ST. ELMO. 
 
 " Mr. Manning, I do not quite comprehend your allu 
 sion." 
 
 " Edna, to see you dying by inches is bitter indeed ! 1 
 believed that you would marry Murray — at least I knew 
 any other woman would — and I felt that to refuse his af- 
 fection would be a terrible tiial, through which you could 
 not pass with impunity. Why you rejected him I have no 
 right to inquire, but I have a right to ask you to let me 
 save your life. I am well aware that you do not love me ; 
 but at least you can esteem and entirely trust me ; and 
 once more I hold out my hand to you and say, give me the 
 wreck of your life ! oh ! give me the ruins of your heart ! 
 I will guard you tenderly ; we will go to Europe — to the 
 East ; and rest of mind, and easy travelling, and change of 
 scene, will restore you. I never realized, never dreamed 
 how much my happiness depended upon you, until you left 
 the city. I have always relied so entirely upon myself, feel- 
 ing the need of no other human being ; but now, separated 
 from you I am restless, am conscious of a vague discontent. 
 If you spend the next year as you have spent the last, you 
 will not survive it. I have conferred with your physician. 
 He reluctantly told me your alarming condition, and I have 
 come to plead with you for the last time not to continue 
 your suicidal course, not to destroy the life which, if worth- 
 less to you, is inexpressibly precious to a man who prays 
 to be allowed to take care of it. A man who realizes that 
 it is necessary to the usefulness and peace of his own lone- 
 ly life; who wishes no other reward on earth but the privi- 
 ] o.ge of looking into your approving eyes, when his daily 
 vi ork is ended, and he sits down at his fireside. Edna, I 
 do not ask for your love, but I beg for your hand s your 
 confidence, your society — for the right to save you from 
 toil. Will you go to the Old World with me ?" 
 
 Looking suddenly up at him, she was astonished to find 
 tears in his searching and usually cold eyes. 
 
 Scandinavian tradition reports that seven parishes were 
 
ST. ELMO. 517 
 
 once overwhelmed, and still lie buried unier snow and ice, 
 and yet occasionally those church-bells are heard ringing 
 clearly under the glaciers of the Folge Fond. 
 
 So, in the frozen, crystal depths of this man's nature, his 
 long silent, smothered affections began to chime. 
 
 A proud smile trembled over Edna's face, as she saw 
 hew entirely she possessed the heart of one, whom above 
 all other men she most admired. 
 
 " Mr. Manning, the assertion that you regard your life as 
 imperfect, incomplete, without the feeble complement of 
 mine — that you find your greatest happiness in my society, 
 is the most flattering, the most gratifying tribute which 
 ever has been, or ever can be paid to my intellect. It is a 
 triumph indeed ; and, because unsought, surely it is a par- 
 donable pride that makes my heart throb. This assurance 
 of your high regard is the brightest earthly crown I shall 
 ever wear. But, sir, you err egregiously in supposing that 
 you would be happy wedded to a woman who did not love 
 you. You think now that if we were only married, my 
 constant presence in your home, my implicit confidence in 
 your character, would fully content you ; but here you fail 
 to understand your own heart, and I know that the con- 
 sciousness that my affection was not yours would make 
 you wretched. No, no ! my dear, noble friend ! God 
 never intended us for each other. I can not go to the Old 
 World with you. I know how peculiarly precarious is my 
 tenure of life, and how apparently limited is my time for 
 work in this world, but I am content. I try to labor faith- 
 fully, listening for the summons of Him who notices even 
 the death of sparrows. God will not call me hence, so long 
 as He has any work for me to do on earth ; and when I be- 
 come useless, and can no longer serve Him here, I do not 
 wish to live. Through Christ I am told, 'Let not your 
 heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.' Mr. Manning, 
 I am not ignorant of, nor indifferent to, my physical condi 
 
518 ST. ELMO. 
 
 tion ; but, thank God! I can say truly, I am not tumbled 
 neither am I afraid, and my faith is — 
 
 ' All as God wills, who wisely heeds, 
 
 To give or to withhold, 
 And knoweth more of all my needs 
 Than all my prayers have told.' " 
 
 The editor took off his glasses and wiped them, but the 
 dimness was in his eyes ; and after a minute, during which 
 he recovered his cold calmness, and hushed the holy chime, 
 muffling the Folge Fond bells, he said gravely and quietly : 
 
 " Edna, one favor, at least, you will grant me. The 
 death of a relative in Louisiana has placed me in possession 
 of an ample fortune, and I wish you to take my little Lila 
 and travel for several years. You are the only woman I 
 ever knew to whom I would intrust her and her education, 
 and it would gratify me beyond expression to feel that I 
 had afforded you the pleasure which can not fail to result 
 from such a tour. Do not be too proud to accept a little 
 happiness from my hands." 
 
 " Thank you, my generous, noble friend ! I gratefully 
 accept a great deal of happiness at this instant, but your 
 kind offer I must decline. I can not leave Felix." 
 
 He sighed, took his hat, and his eyes ran over the face 
 and figure of the governess. 
 
 " Edna Earl, your stubborn will makes you nearly akin 
 to those gigantic fuci which are said to grow and flourish 
 as submarine forests in the stormy channel of Terra del 
 Fuego, where they shake their heads defiantly, always trem- 
 bling, always triumphing, in the fierce lashing of waves 
 that wear away rocks. You belong to a very rare order of 
 human algae, rocked and reared in the midst of tempests 
 that would either bow down, or snap asunder, or beat out 
 most natures. As you will not grant my petition, try to 
 forget it ; we will bury the subject. Good-by ! I shall 
 call to-morrow afternoon to take you to ride." 
 
Sl\ ELMO. 519 
 
 With renewed zest Edna devoted every moment stolen 
 from Felix, to the completion of her new book. Her first 
 bad been a "bounteous promise" — at least so said critic- 
 dom — and she felt that the second would determiije her lit- 
 erary position, would either place her reputation as an 
 author beyond all cavil, or utterly crush her ambition. 
 
 Sometimes as she bent over her MS., and paused to re-read 
 some passage just penned, which she had laboriously com- 
 posed, and thought particularly good as an illustration of 
 the idea she was striving to embody perspicuously, a smile 
 would flit across her countenance while she asked herself: 
 
 " Will my readers see it as I see it ? Will they thank 
 me for my high opinion of their culture, in assuming that 
 it will be quite as plain to them as to me ? If there should 
 accidentally be an allusion to classical or scientific literature, 
 which they do not understand at the first hasty, careless, 
 novel- reading glance, will they inform themselves, and t,hen 
 appreciate my reason for employing it, and thank me for 
 the hint ; or \r ill they attempt to ridicule my pedantry ? 
 When' will tin j begin to suspect that what they may im- 
 agine sounds ' learned ' in my writings, merely appears so 
 to them because they have not climbed high enough to see 
 how vast, ho v infinite is the sphere of human leainring ? 
 No, no, dear reader shivering with learning-phobia, I am 
 not learned. You are only a little, a very little more igno- 
 rant. Doubtless you know many things which I should be 
 glad to learn ; come, let us barter. Let us all study the life 
 of Giovanni Pico Mirandola, and then we shall begin to 
 understand the meaning of the word ' learned.' " 
 
 Edna unintentionally and continually judged her readers 
 according to her own standard, and so eager, so unquench- 
 able was ber thirst for knowledge, that she could no: 
 understand how the utterance of some new fact, or the re- 
 dressing ai d presentation of some forgotten idea, could 
 possibly be regarded as an insult by the person thus bene- 
 fited. He/ first book taught her that what was termed 
 
520 ST. ELMO. 
 
 her " surplus paraded erudition," had wounded the amoi r 
 propre of the public ; but she was conscientiously experi- 
 menting on public taste, and though some of her indolent, 
 luxurious readers, who wished even their thinking done by- 
 proxy, shuddered at the " spring water pumped upon their 
 nerves," she good-naturedly overlooked their grimaces and 
 groans, and continued the hydropathic treatment even in 
 her second book, hoping some good effects from the shock. 
 Of one intensely gratifying fact she could not fail to be 
 thoroughly informed, by the avalanche of letters which 
 almost daily covered her desk ; she had at least ensconced 
 herself securely in a citadel, whence she could smilingly defy 
 all assaults — in the warm hearts of her noble countrywomen. 
 Safely sheltered in their sincere and devoted love, she cared 
 little for the shafts that rattled and broke against the rocky 
 ramparts, and, recoiling, dropped out of sight in the moat 
 below. 
 
 So with many misgivings, and much hope, and great 
 patience, she worked on assiduously, and early in summer 
 her book was finished and placed in the publisher's hands. 
 
 In the midst of her anxiety concerning its reception, a 
 new and terrible apprehension took possession of her; for it 
 became painfully evident that Felix, whose health had never 
 been good, was slowly but steadily declining. 
 
 Mrs. Andrews and Edna took him to Sharon, to Saratoga, 
 and to various other favorite resorts for invalids, but with 
 no visible results that were at all encouraging, and at last 
 they came home almost disheartened. Dr. Howell finally 
 prescribed a sea-voyage, and a sojourn of some weeks at 
 Eaux Bonne in the Pyrenees, as those waters had effected 
 some remarkable cures. 
 
 As the doctor quitted the parlor, where he had held a 
 conference with Mr. and Mrs. Andrews, the latter turned 
 to her husband, saying : 
 
 " It is useless to start anywhere with Felix unless Miss 
 Earl can go with us ; for he would fret himself to death in a 
 
ST. ELMi, 521 
 
 week. Really, Louis, it is astonishin to see huw dc\ Dted 
 they are to each other. Feeble as that woman is, she will 
 always sit up whenever there is any medicine to he given 
 during the night; and while he was so ill at Sharon, she 
 did not close her eyes for a week. I can't help feeling jeab 
 ous of his affection for her, and I spoke to her about it. He 
 was asleep at the time, with his hand grasping one of hers ; 
 and when I told her how trying it was for a mother to see 
 her child's whole heart given to a stranger, to hear morn- 
 ing, noon, and night, ' Edna,' always ' Edna,' never once 
 ' mamma,' I wish you could have seen the strange suffering 
 expression that came into her pale face. Her lips trembled 
 so that she could scarcely speak ; but she said meekly, ' Oh ! 
 forgive me if I have won your child's heart ; but I love him. 
 You have your husband and daughter, your brother and sis- 
 ter ; but I — oh ! I have only Felix ! I have nothing else to 
 cling to in all this world !' Then she kissed his poor little 
 fingers, and wept as if her heart would break, and wrung 
 her hands, and begged me again and again to forgive her 
 if he loved her best. She is the strangest woman I ever 
 knew ; sometimes when she is sitting by me in church, I 
 watch her calm, cold, white face, and she makes me think 
 of a snow statue ; but if Felix says any thing to arouse her 
 feelings and call out her affection, she is a volcano. It is very 
 rarely that one finds a beautiful woman, distinguished by 
 her genius, admired and courted by the reading public, de- 
 voting herself as she does to our dear little crippled darling. 
 While I confess I am jealous of her, her kindness to my 
 child makes me love her more than I can express. Louis, 
 she must go with us. Poor thing ! she seems to be failing 
 almost as fast as Felix ; and I verily believe if he should 
 die, it would kill her. Did you notice how she paced the 
 floor while the doctors were consulting in Felix's room ? 
 She loves nothing but my precious lame boy." 
 
 " Certainly, Kate, she must go with you. I quite agree 
 witl you, my clear, that Felix is dependent upon her, and 
 
522 ST. -ELMO. 
 
 ■would not derive half the benefit from the trip, if she re 
 mainel at home. I confess she has cured :jie tD a great 
 extent, of my horror of literary characters. She is the only 
 one I ever saw who waa really lovable, and not a walking 
 parody on her own writings. You would be surprised at 
 the questions constantly asked me, about her habits and 
 temper. People seem so curious to learn all the routine ol 
 her daily life. Last week a member of our club quoted 
 something from her writings, and said that she was one of 
 the few authors of the day whose books, without having 
 first examined, he would put into the hands of his daugh- 
 ters. He remarked : ' I can trust my girls' characters to 
 her training, for she is a true woman ; and if she errs at all 
 in any direction, it is the right one, only a little too rigidly 
 followed.' I am frequently asked how she is related to me, 
 for people can not believe that she is merely the governess 
 of our children. Kate, will you tell her that it is my 
 desire that she should accompany you ? Speak to her at 
 once, that I may know how many state-rooms I shall en- 
 gage on the steamer." 
 
 " Come with me, Louis, and speak to her yourself." 
 
 They w-ent up-stairs together, and paused on the thresh- 
 old of Felix's room, to observe w T hat was passing within. 
 
 The boy was propped by pillows into an upright position 
 on the sofa, and was looking curiously into a small basket 
 which Edna held on her lap. 
 
 She was reading to him a touching little letter just re- 
 ceived from an invalid child, w r ho had never walked, who 
 was confined always to the house, and wrote to thank her, 
 in sweet, childish style, for a story which she had read in 
 the Magazine, and which made her very happy. 
 
 The invalid stated that her chief amusement consisted in 
 tending a few flowers that grew in pots in her windows ; 
 and in token of her gratitude, she had made a nosegay of 
 mignonnette, pansies, and geranium and wax-plant leaves, 
 which she sent with her scrawling letter. 
 
ST. ELMO. 523 
 
 In conclusion, the child asked that the tfoman whom, 
 ■without having seen, she yet loved, would be so kind as to 
 give her a list of such books as a little girl ought to study, 
 and to write her "just a few lines" that she could keep 
 under her pillow, to look at now and then. As Edna fin- 
 ished reading the note, Felix took it to examine the small 
 indistinct characters, and said: 
 
 " Dear little thing ! Don't you wish we knew her ? 
 ' Louie Lawrence.' Of course you will answer it, Edna ?" 
 
 " Yes, immediately, and tell her how grateful I am for 
 her generosity in sparing me a portion of her j)et flowers. 
 Each word in her sweet little letter is as precious as a 
 pearl, for it came from the very depths of her pure heart." 
 
 " Oh ! what a blessed thing it is to feel that you are 
 doing some good in the world ! That little Louie says she 
 prays for you every night before she goes to sleep ! What a 
 comfort such letters must be to you ! Edna, how happy 
 you look ! But there are tears shining in your eyes, they 
 always come when you are glad. What books will you tell 
 her to study ?" 
 
 " I will think about the subject, and let you read my 
 answer. Give me the ' notelet ;' I want to put it away 
 securely among my treasures. How deliciously fragrant 
 the flowers are ! Only smell them, Felix ! Here, my dar- 
 ling, I will give them to you, and write to the little Louie 
 how happy she made two people." 
 
 She lifted the delicate bouquet so daintily fashioned by 
 fairy child-fingers, inhaled the rich perfume, and, as she put 
 it in the thin fingers of the cripple, she bent forward and 
 kissed his fever-parched lips. At this instant Felix saw his 
 parents standing at the door, and held up the flowers tri- 
 ll raphantly. 
 
 "O mamma! come smell this mignonnette. Why can't 
 we grow some in boxes,in our windows?" 
 
 Mr. Andrews leaned over his son's pillows, softly put hia 
 hand on the boy's forehead, and said : 
 
524 ST - ELMO 
 
 " My son, Miss Earl professes to love you very much, but 
 I doubt whether she really means all she says ; and 1 am 
 determined to satisfy myself fully. Just now I can not 
 leave my business, but mamma intends to take you to 
 Europe next week, and I want to know whether Miss Earl 
 will leave all her admirers here, and go with you, and r^elp 
 mamma to nurse you. Do you think she will ?" 
 
 Mrs. Andrews stood with her hand resting on the shoulder 
 of the governess, watching the varying expression of her 
 child's countenance. 
 
 "I think, papa — I hope she will ; I believe she " 
 
 He paused, and, struggling up from his pillows, he 
 stretched out his poor little arms, and exclaimed : 
 
 " O Edna ! you will go with me ? You promised you 
 would never forsake me ! Tell papa you will go." 
 
 His head was on her shoulder, his arms were clasped 
 tightly around her neck. She hid her face on his, and was 
 silent. 
 
 Mr. Andrews placed his hand on the orphan's bowed 
 head. 
 
 " Miss Earl, you must let me tell you that I look upon 
 you as a member of my family ; that my wife and I love 
 you almost as well as if you were one of our children; and 
 I hope you will not refuse to accompany Kate on the tour 
 she contemplates. Let me take your own father's place ; 
 and I shall regard it as a great favor to me and mine if you 
 will consent to go, and allow me to treat you always as I 
 do my Hattie. I have no doubt you will derive as much 
 benefit from travelling, as I certainly hope for Felix." 
 
 " Thank you, Mr. Andrews, I appreciate your generosity, 
 and I prize the affection and confidence which you and your 
 wife have shown me. I came, an utter stranger, into your 
 house, and you kindly made me one of the family circle. 
 I am alone in the world, and have become strongly at- 
 tached to your children. Felix is not merely my dear pupil, 
 he is my brother, my companion, my little darling ! I can 
 
ST. ELMO. 525 
 
 not be separated from him. Next to his mother he belongs 
 to me. Oh ! I will travel with him anywhere that you and 
 Mrs. Andrews think it best he should go. I wi-1 never, 
 never leave him." 
 
 She disengaged the boy's arms, laid hirn back on his 
 pillows, and went to her own room. 
 
 In the midst of prompt preparations for departure, Edna's 
 new novel appeared. She had christened it "Shining- 
 Thrones of the Hearth," and dedicated it " To my 
 countrywomen, the Queens who reign thereon." 
 
 The aim of the book was to discover the only true and 
 allowable and womanly sphere of feminine work, and, 
 though the theme was threadbare, she fearlessly picked up 
 the frayed woof and rewove it. 
 
 The tendency of the age was to equality and communism, 
 and this, she contended, was undermining the golden thrones 
 shining in the blessed and hallowed light of the hearth, 
 whence every true woman ruled the realm of her own fam- 
 ily. Regarding every pseudo "reform" which struck down 
 the social and political distinction of the sexes, as a blow 
 that crushed one of the pillars of woman's throne, she 
 earnestly warned the Crowned Heads of the danger to be 
 apprehended, from the unfortunate and deluded female mal- 
 contents, who, dethroned in their own realm, and despised 
 by their quondam subjects, roamed as pitiable, royal exiles, 
 threatening to usurp man's kingdom ; and to proud, happy 
 mothers, guarded by Praetorian bands of children, she re* 
 iterated the assurance that 
 
 " Those who rock the cradle rule the world." 
 
 Most assiduously she sifted the records of history, tracing 
 in every epoch the sovereigns of the hearth-throne who nad 
 reigned wisely and contentedly, ennobling and refining hu- 
 manity ; and she proved by illustrious examples that the 
 borders of the feminine realm could not be enlarged, with- 
 out rendering the throne unsteady, and subverting God'a 
 
.526 ST. ELMO. 
 
 law of order. Woman reigned by divine riglt only at 
 home. If married, in the hearts of husband and children, 
 and not in the gilded, bedizened palace of fashion, where 
 thinly veiled vice and frivolity hold carnival, and social 
 upas and social asps wave and trail. If single, in the affec- 
 tions of brothers and sisters and friends, as the golden scep- 
 tre in the hands of parents. If orphaned, she should find 
 sympathy and gratitude and usefulness among the poor 
 and the afflicted. 
 
 Edna attached vast importance to individual influence, 
 and fearing that enthusiastic young minds would be capti- 
 vated by the charms of communism in labor, she analyzed 
 the systems of " sisterhoods " which had waxed and waned 
 from the Beguinages of the eleventh century, to Kaisers- 
 werth, and Miss Sellon's establishment at Devenport. "While 
 she paid all honor to the noble self-abnegation and exalted 
 charity which prompted their organization, she pointed out 
 some lurking dangers in all systems which permanently re- 
 moved woman from the heaven-decreed ark of the family 
 hearthstone. 
 
 Consulting the statistics of single women, and familiariz- 
 ing herself with the arguments advanced by the advo- 
 cates of that " progress," which would indiscriminately 
 throw open all professions to women, she entreated the 
 poor of her own sex, if ambitious, to become sculptors, 
 painters, writers, teachers in schools or families ; or else to 
 remain mantua-makers, milliners, spinners, dairy-maids ; 
 but on the peril of all womanhood not to meddle with scal- 
 pel or red tape, and to shun rostra of all descriptions, re- 
 membering St. Paul's injunction, that " It is not permitted 
 unto women to speak y" and even that " It is a shame for 
 women to sjoeaJc in the church." 
 
 To married women who thirsted for a draught of the 
 turbid waters of politics, she said : " If you really desire to 
 serve the government under which you live, recollect that it 
 was neither the speeches thundered from the forum, nor the 
 
ST. ELMO. 527 
 
 prayers of priests and augurs, nor the iron tramp of glitter* 
 ing legions, but the ever triumphant, maternal influence, 
 the potent, the pleading ' My son !' of Volumnia, the mother 
 of Coriolanus, that saved Rome." 
 
 To discontented spinsters, who travelled like Pandora 
 over the land, haranguing audiences that secretly laughed 
 at and despised them, to these unfortunate women, clamor- 
 ing for power and influence in the national councils, she 
 pointed out that quiet happy home at ' Barley Wood,' 
 whence immortal Hannah More sent forth those writings 
 which did more to tranquillize England, and bar the hearts 
 of its yeomanry against the temptations of red republican- 
 ism than all the eloquence of Burke, and the cautious mea- 
 sures of Parliament. 
 
 Some errors of style, which had been pointed out by 
 critics as marring her earlier writings, Edna had endea- 
 vored to avoid in this book, which she humbly offered to her 
 countrywomen as the best of which she was capable. 
 
 From the day of its appearance it was a noble success ; 
 and she had the gratification of hearing that some of the 
 seed she had sown broadcast in the land, fell upon good 
 ground, and promised an abundant harvest. 
 
 Many who called to bid her good-by on the day befoi'e 
 the steamer sailed, found it impossible to disguise their ap- 
 prehension that she would never return ; and some who 
 looked tearfully into her face and whispered " God speed !" 
 thought they saw the dread signet of death set on her 
 white brow. 
 
 To Edna it was inexpressibly painful to cross the Atlan- 
 tic while Mr. Hammond's health was so feeble ; and over 
 the long farewell letter which she sent him, with a copy of 
 her new book, the old man wept. Mrs. Murray had seemed 
 entirely estranged since that last day spent at Le Bocage, 
 and had not written a line since the orphan's return to New- 
 York. But when she received the new novel, and the affec* 
 
528 ST - elmo. 
 
 tionate, mournful, meek note that accompanied it, Mrs. Mur 
 ray laid her head on her son's bosom and sobbed aloud. 
 
 Dr. Howell and Mr. Manning went with Edna atoard 
 the steamer, and both laughed heartily at her efforts to dis- 
 engage herself from a pertinacious young book-vender, who, 
 with his arms full of copies of her own book, stopped her 
 on deck, and volubly extolled its merits, insisting that she 
 should buy one to while away the tedium of the voyage. 
 
 Dr. Howell gave final directions concerning the treat- 
 ment of Felix, and then came to speak to the governess. 
 
 " Even now, sadly as you have abused your constitution, 
 I shall have some hope of seeing gray hairs about your 
 temples, if you will give yourself unreservedly to relaxa- 
 tion of mind. You have already accomplished so much, 
 that you can certainly afford to rest for some months 
 at least. Read nothing, write nothing, (except long let- 
 ters to me,) study nothing but the aspects of nature in 
 European scenery, and you will come back improved, to 
 the country that is so justly proud of you. Disobey my 
 injunctions, and I shall soon be called to mourn over the 
 announcement that you have found an early grave, far from 
 your native land, and among total strangers. God bless 
 you, dear child ! and bring you safely back to us." 
 
 As he turned away, Mr. Manning took her hand and said : 
 
 " I hope to meet you in Rome early in February ; but 
 something might occur to veto my programme. If I should 
 never see you again in this world, is there any thing that 
 you wish to say to me now ?" 
 
 " Yes, Mr. Manning. If I should die in Europe, have my 
 body brought back to America and carried to the South — 
 my own dear South, that I love so well — and bury me close 
 to Grandpa, where I can sleep quietly in the cool shadow 
 of old Lookout ; and be sure, please be sure to have my 
 name carved just below Grandpa's, on his monument I 
 want that one marble to stand for us both." 
 
 " I will. Is there nothing else ?" 
 
ST. ELMO. 529 
 
 " Thank you, my clear, good, kind friend ! Nothing else." 
 
 "' Edna, promise me that you will take care of your pre- 
 ci ,)us life." 
 
 " I will try, Mr. Manning." 
 
 lie looked down into her worn, weary face and sighed ; 
 tien for the first time he took both her hands, kissed them 
 and left her. 
 
 Swiftly the steamer took its way seaward ; through the 
 Narrows, past the lighthouse ; and the wind sang through 
 the rigging, and the purple hills of Jersey faded from view, 
 proving Neversink a misnomer. 
 
 One by one the passengers went below, and Edna and 
 Felix were left on deck, with stars burning above, and blue 
 waves bounding beneath them. 
 
 As the cripple sat looking over the solemn, moaning 
 ocean, awed by its brooding gloom, did he catch in the 
 silvery starlight a second glimpse of the rose-colorod veils, 
 and snowy vittae, and purple-edged robes of the Parcae, 
 spinning and singing as they followed the ship across the 
 sobbing sea ? He shivered, and clasping tightly the hand 
 of his governess, said : 
 
 " Edna, we shall never see the Neversink again." 
 
 " God only knows, dear Felix. His will be done." 
 
 Over the rolling waves rang the ominous ghostly chant, 
 
 " Currite ducentes, subtemina currite fusi !" 
 
 And faith, clasping the cross for support, listened, and 
 answered, smiling meekly : 
 
 " How silverly the echoes run — 
 Thy will be done — Thy will be done." 
 
CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 pRTHY ? No, no! Unworthy! most unwor- 
 thy ! But was Thomas worthy to tend the wan- 
 i IH dering sheep of Him, whom face to face he doubt- 
 ed? Was Peter worthy to preach the Gospel 
 of Him, whom he had thrice indignantly denied ? Was 
 Paul worthy to become the Apostle of the Gentiles, teach- 
 ing the doctrine of Him, whose disciples he had persecuted 
 and slaughtered ? If the repentance of Peter and Paul 
 availed to purify their hands and hearts, and sanctify them 
 to the service of Christ, ah ! God knows my contrition has 
 been bitter and lasting enough to fit me for future useful- 
 ness. Eight months ago, when the desire to become a min- 
 ister seized me so tenaciously, I wrestled with it, tried to 
 crush it ; arguing that the knowledge of my past life of sin- 
 fulness would prevent the world from trusting my profes- 
 sions. But those who even slightly understand my charac- 
 ter, must know that I have always been too utterly indiffer- 
 ent to, too unfortunately contemptuous of public opinion, 
 to stoop to any deception in order to conciliate it. More- 
 over, the world will realize that in a merely worldly point 
 of view I can possibly hope to gain nothing, by this step. 
 If I were poor, I might be accused of wanting the loaves 
 and fishes of tke profession ; if unknown and ambitious, of 
 seeking eminence and popularity. But when a man of my 
 wealth and social position, after spending half of his life 
 in luxurious ease and sinful indulgence, voluntarily subjects 
 
ST ELMO. 53^ 
 
 himself to the rigid abstemiousness and self-sacrificing re- 
 quirements of a ministerial career, he can not be suspected 
 of hypocrisy. After all, sir, I care not for the discussion, 
 the nine days' gossip and wonder, the gibes and comments 
 my course may occasion. I am hearkening to the counsel 
 of my conscience ; I am obeying the dictates of my heart. 
 Feeling that my God accepts me, it matters little that men 
 may reject me. My remorse, my repentance, has been in- 
 expressibly bitter ; but the darkness has passed away, and 
 to-day, thank God ! I can pray with all the fervor and faith 
 of my boyhood, when I knew that I was at peace with my 
 Maker. Oblivion of the past I do not expect, and perhaps 
 should not desire. I shall always wear my melancholy 
 memories of sin, as Mussulmen wear their turban or pall- 
 as a continual memento of death. Because I have proved 
 so fully the inadequacy of earthly enjoyments to satisfy the 
 demands of a soul ; because I tried the alluring pleasures 
 of sin, and was satiated, ah ! utterly sickened, I turn with 
 panting eagerness to the cool, quiet peace which reigns over 
 the life of a true Christian pastor. I want neither fame 
 nor popularity, but peace ! — peace I must have ! I have 
 hunted the world over and over ; I have sought it every- 
 where else, and now, thank God ! I feel that it is descend- 
 ing slowly, slowly, but surely, upon my lonely, long-tor- 
 tured heart. Thank God ! I have found peace after much 
 strife and great weariness " 
 
 Mr. Murray could no longer control his voice ; and as he 
 stood leaning against the mantel-piece at the parsonage, he 
 dropped his head on his hand. 
 
 " St. Elmo, the purity of your motives will never be 
 questioned, for none who know you could believe you capa- 
 ble of dissembling in this matter ; and my heart can scarce- 
 ly contain its joy when I look forward to your future, so 
 bright with promise, so full of usefulness. The marked 
 change in your manner during the past two years, has pre- 
 pared the community for the important step you are to take 
 
532 ST. ELMO. 
 
 to-day, and your influence with young mp>n wiL' oe ntalcula-- 
 ble. Once your stern bitterness iendered you an object of 
 dread ; now I find that you are respected, and people here 
 watch your conduct with interest, and even with anxiety. 
 Ah St. Elmo ! I never imagined earth held as much pure 
 happiness as is my portion to-day. To see you one of God's 
 anointed ! To see you ministering in the temple ! Oh ! to 
 know that when I am gone to rest you will take my place, 
 guard my flock, do your own work and poor Murray's, and 
 finish mine ! This, this is indeed the crowning blessing of 
 my old age." 
 
 For some minutes Mr. Hammond sobbed ; and, lifting 
 his face, Mr. Murray answered : 
 
 " As I think of the coming years consecrated to Christ, 
 passed peacefully in endeavoring to atone for the injury and 
 suffering I have inflicted on my fellow-creatures ; oh ! as 
 the picture of a calm, useful, holy future rises before me, I 
 feel indeed that I am unworthy, most unworthy of my peace ; 
 but thank God ! 
 
 ' Oh ! I see the crescent promise of my spirit hath not set ; 
 Ancient founts of inspiration well through all my fancy yet.' " 
 
 It was a beautiful Sabbath morning, just one year after 
 Edna's departure from the parsonage, and the church was 
 crowded to its utmost capacity, for people had come for 
 many miles around, to witness a ceremony the announce- 
 ment of which, had given rise to universal comment. As 
 the hour approached for the ordination of St. Elmo Murray 
 to the ministry of Jesus Christ, even the doors were filled 
 with curious spectators ; and when Mr. Hammond and St. 
 Elmo walked down the aisle, and the old man seated him- 
 self in a chair within the altar, there was a general stir in 
 the congregation. 
 
 The officiating minister had come from a distant city to 
 perform a ceremony oi more than usual interest ; and when 
 he stood ud in the pulpit, and the organ thundered through 
 
ST. ELM. 58$ 
 
 the arches, St. Elmo bowed his he^l on his hand, and sat 
 thus during the hour that ensued. 
 
 The ordination sermon was solemn and eloquent, and 
 preached from the text in Romans : 
 
 " For when ye were the servants of sin, ye were free 
 from righteousness. But now being made free from sin, 
 and become servants to God, ye have your fruit unto holi* 
 ness, and the end everlasting life." 
 
 Then the minister, having finished his discourse, came 
 down into the altar and commenced the services ; but Mr. 
 Murray sat motionless, with his countenance concealed by 
 his hand. Mr. Hammond approached and touched him, 
 and, as he rose, led him to the altar, and presented him as 
 a candidate for ordination. 
 
 There, before the shining marble pulpit which he had 
 planned and built in the early years of his life, for the idol 
 of his youth, stood St. Elmo ; and the congregation, espe 
 cially those of his native village, looked with involuntary 
 admiration and pride at the erect, powerful form, clad in 
 its suit of black — at the nobly-proportioned head, where 
 gray locks were visible. 
 
 " But if there be any of you who knoweth any impedi- 
 ment or crime, for the which he ought not to be received 
 into this holy ministry, let him come forth, in the name of 
 God, and show what the crime or impediment is." 
 
 The preacher paused, the echo of his words died away, 
 and perfect silence reigned. Suddenly St. Elmo raised his 
 eyes from the railing of the altar, and, turning his face 
 slightly, looked through the eastern window at the ivy- 
 draped vault where slept Murray and Annie. The world 
 was silent, but conscience and the dead accused him. An 
 expression of intolerable anguish crossed his handsome fea- 
 tures, then his hands folded themselves tightly together on 
 the top of the marble balustrade, and he looked appealingly 
 up to the pale Jesus staggering under his cross. 
 
 At that instant a spotless white pigeon from the belfry, 
 
534 ST. ELMO. 
 
 found its way into the church through the open doois, cir 
 cled once around the building, fluttered against the win- 
 dow, hiding momentarily the crown of thorns, and, fright- 
 ened and confused, fell upon the fluted pillar of the pulpit. 
 
 An electric thrill ran through the congregation ; and as 
 the minister resumed the services, he saw on St. Elmo's face 
 a light, a great joy, such as human countenances rarely 
 wear this side the grave. 
 
 When Mr. Murray knelt and the ordaining hands were 
 laid upon his head, a sob was heard from the pew where his 
 mother sat, and the voice of the preacher faltered as he de- 
 livered the Bible to the kneeling man, saying : 
 
 " Take thou authority to preach the word of God, and to 
 administer the holy sacraments in the congregation." 
 
 There were no dry eyes in the entire assembly, save two 
 that looked out, coldly blue, from the pew where Mrs. 
 Powell sat like a statue, between her daughter and Gordon 
 Leigh. 
 
 Mr. Hammond tottered across the altar, and knelt down 
 close to Mr. Murray ; and m/my who knew the history of 
 the pastor's family, wept as the gray head fell on the broad 
 shoulder of St. Elmo, whose arm was thrown around the 
 old man's form, and the ordaining minister, with tears roll- 
 ing over his face, extended his hands in benediction above 
 them. 
 
 " The peace of God, which passeth all understanding, 
 keep your hearts and minds in the knowledge and love of 
 God, and of his Son Jesus Christ our Lord ; and the bless- 
 ing of God Almighty, the Father, the Son, and the Holy 
 Ghost, be among you, and remain with you alway." 
 
 And all hearts and lips present whispered " Amen !" and 
 the organ and the choir broke forth in a grand " Gloria in 
 excelsis." 
 
 Standing there at the chancel, purified, consecrated hence- 
 forth unreservedly to Christ, Mr. Murray fooked so happy, 
 
ST. ELMO. 5S5 
 
 so noble, so worthy of his high calling, that his p/o.id, fond 
 mother thought his face was fit for an archangel's wings. 
 
 Many persons who had known him in his boyhood, came 
 tip witl tears in their eyes, and wrung his hand silently. 
 At last Huldah pointed to the white pigeon, that was now 
 beating its wings against the gilded pipes of the organ, 
 and savi, in that singularly sweet, solemn, hesitating tone, 
 with which children approach sacred things : 
 
 " O Mr. Murray ! when it fell on the pulpit, it nearly 
 took my breath away, for I almost thought it was the Holy 
 Ghost." 
 
 Tears., which till then he had bravely kept back, dripped 
 over his face, as he stooped and whispered to the little or- 
 phan : 
 
 " Huldah, the Holy Spirit, the Comfortei*, came indeed ; 
 but it was not visible, it is here in my heart." 
 
 The congregation dispersed. Mrs. Murray and the 
 preacher and Huldah went to the carriage ; and, leaning 
 on Mr. Murray's arm, Mr. Hammond turned to follow, but 
 observing that the church was empty, the former said : 
 
 " After a little, I will come." 
 
 The old man walked on, and Mr. Murray went back and 
 knelt, resting his head against the beautiful glittering ba- 
 lustrade, within which he hoped to officiate through the 
 remaining years of his earthly career. 
 
 Once the sexton, who was waiting to lock up the church, 
 looked in, saw the man praying alone there at the altar, 
 and softly stole away. 
 
 When Mr. Murray came out, the churchyard seemed de- 
 serted ; but as he crossed it, going homeward, a woman 
 rose from one of the tombstones and stood before him — - 
 the yellow-haired Jezebel, with sapphire eyes and soft, 
 treacherous red lips, who had goaded him to madness and 
 blasted the best years of his life. 
 
 At sight of her he recoiled, as if a cobra cajiello had 
 started up in his path. 
 
586 ST. ELMO. 
 
 " St. Elmo, my beloved ! in the name of other c;iys stop 
 and hear me. By the memory of our early love, I entreat 
 you!" 
 
 She came close to him, and the alabaster face was mar- 
 vellously beautiful in its expression of penitential sweet- 
 ness. 
 
 " St. Elmo, can you never forgive me for the suffering I 
 caused you, in my giddy girlhood ?" 
 
 She took his hand and attempted to raise it to her lips ; 
 but shaking off her touch, he stepped back, and steadily 
 they looked in each others eyes. 
 
 " Agnes, I forgive you. May God pardon your sins, as 
 He has pardoned mine !" 
 
 He turned away, but she seized his coat-sleeve and threw 
 herself before him, standing with both hands clasping his 
 arm. 
 
 " If you mean what you say, there is happiness yet in 
 store for us. O St. Elmo ! how often have I longed to 
 come and lay my head down on your bosom, and tell 
 you all. But you were so stern and harsh I was afraid. 
 To-day when I saw you melted, when the look of your 
 boyhood came dancing back to your dear eyes, I was 
 encouraged to hope that your heart had softened also 
 toward one, who so long possessed it. Is there hope for 
 your poor Agnes? Hope that the blind, silly girl, who, 
 ignorant of the value of the treasure, slighted and spurned 
 it, may indeed be pardoned, when, as a woman realizing 
 her folly, and sensible at last of the nobility of a nature she 
 once failed to appreciate, she comes and says — what it is 
 so hard for a woman to say — ' Take me back to your heart, 
 gather me up in your arms, as in the olden days, because — 
 because I love you now; because only your love can make 
 me happy.' St. Elmo, we are no longer young ; but believe 
 me when I tell you that at last — at last — your own Agnes 
 loves you as she never loved any one, even in her girlhood. 
 Once I preferred my cousin Murray to you ; but think how 
 
ST. ELMO. 537 
 
 giddy I must have been, when I could marry jefore a year 
 had settled the sod on his grave ? I did not love my hus- 
 band, but I married him for the same reason that I would 
 have married you then. And yet for that there is some 
 palliation. It was to save my father from disgrace that I 
 sacrificed myself ; for money intrusted to his keeping- 
 money belonging to his orphan ward — had been used by 
 Lim in a ruinous speculation, and only prompt repayment 
 could prevent exposure. Remember I was so young, so 
 vain, so thoughtless then ! St. Elmo, pity me ! love me ! 
 take me back to your heart ! God is my witness that I do 
 love you entirely now ! Dearest, say, ' Agnes, I will for- 
 give all, and trust you and love you as in the days long 
 past.' " 
 
 She tried to put her arms up around his neck and to rest 
 her head on his shoulder ; but he resisted and put her at 
 arm's length from him. 
 
 Holding her there, he looked at her with cold scorn in 
 his eyes, and a heavy shadow darkening the brow that five 
 minutes before had been so calm, so bright. 
 
 " Agnes, how dare you attempt to deceive me, after all 
 that has passed between us ? O woman ! In the name 
 of all true w ™~ n nhood I could blush for you !" 
 
 She struggled to free herself, to get closer to him, but his 
 stern grasp was relentless ; and, as tears poured down her 
 cheeks, she clasped her hands and sobbed out : 
 
 "You do not believe that I really love you! Oh J 
 do not look at me so harshly ! I am not deceiving 
 you; as I hope for pardon and rest for my soul — as I 
 hope to see my father's face in heaven — I am not de- 
 ceiving' you! I do — I do love you! When I spoke to 
 you about Gertrude, it cost me a dreadful pang ; but I 
 thought you loved her because she resembled me ; and for 
 my child's sake I crushed my own hopes — I wanted, if pos- 
 sible, to. save her from suffering. But you only upbraided 
 and heaped savage sarcasms upon me. O St. Elmo ! if 
 
5S8 ST. ELMO. 
 
 you could indeed see my poor heart, you wouki. not /0.&2 %o 
 cruelly cold. You ought to know that I am terribly in ear- 
 nest when I can stoop to beg for the ruins of a heart, which 
 in its freshness I once threw away, and trampled on." 
 
 He had seen her weep before, when it suited her pur- 
 pose, and he only smiled and answered : 
 
 " Y as, Agnes, you ruined it, and trampled it in the mire 
 of sin ; but I have rebuilt it, and, by the mercy of God, I 
 hope I have purified it. Look you, woman ! when you 
 overturned the temple, you crumbled your own image that 
 was set up there ; and I long, long ago swept out and gaVe 
 to the hungry winds the despised dust of the broken idol, 
 and over my heart you can reign no more ! The only queen 
 it has known since that awful night, twenty-three years 
 ago, when my faith, hope, charity were all strangled in an 
 instant by the velvet hand I had kissed in my doating fond- 
 ness — the only queen my heart has acknowledged since then, 
 is one who, in her purity soars like an angel above you and 
 me, and her dear name is — Edna Earl." 
 
 "Edna Earl ! — a puritanical fanatic ! Nay, a Pharisee ! 
 A cold prude, a heartless blue ! A woman with some brain 
 and no feeling, who loves nothing but her own fame, and 
 has no sympathy with your nature. St. Elmo, are you in- 
 sane ! Did you not see that letter from Estelle to your 
 mother, stating that she, Edna, would certainly be married 
 in February, to the celebrated Mr. Manning, who was then 
 on his way to Rome to meet her ? Did you see that let- 
 ter ?" 
 
 "I did." 
 
 " And discredit it ? Blindness, madness, equal to my 
 own in the days gone by ! Edna Earl exists no longer ; 
 fshe was married a month ago. Here, read for yourself, or 
 you will believe that I fabricate the whole." 
 
 She held a newspaper before his eyes, and he saw a para- 
 graph, marked with a circle of ink, " Marriage in Literary 
 Circles :" 
 
ST, ELMO. 539 
 
 "The very reliable correspondent of the ISTevV-Yoi.t 
 
 Writes from Rome that the Americans now in that city, are 
 on the qui vine concerning a marriage announced to take 
 place, on Thursday next, at the residence of the American 
 Minister. The very distinguished parties are Miss Edna 
 Earl, the gifted and exceedingly popular young authoress, 
 whose works have given her an enviable reputation, even 
 on this side of the Atlantic, and Mr. Douglass G. Manning, 
 
 the well-known and able editor of the Magazine. The 
 
 happy pair will start, immediately after the ceremony, on 
 a tour through Greece and the Holy Land." 
 
 Mr. Murray opened the paper, glanced at the date, and 
 his swarthy face paled as he put his hands over his eyes. 
 
 Mrs. Powell came nearer, and once more touched his 
 hand ; but, with a gesture of disgust, he pushed her aside. 
 
 " Away, woman ! Not a word — not one word more ! 
 You are not worthy to take my darling's name upon your 
 lips ! She may be Manning's wife — God forbid it ! — or she 
 may be in her grave. I have lost her, I know ; but if I 
 never see her dear angel face again in this world, it will be 
 in consequence of my sins, and of yours ; and with God's 
 help, I mean to live out the remainder of my days, so that 
 at last I shall meet her in eternity ! Leave me, Agnes ! 
 Do not make me forget the vows I have to-day taken upon 
 myself, in the presence of the world and of my Maker. In 
 future, keep out of my path, which will never cross yours ; 
 do not rouse the old hate toward you, which I am faithfully 
 striving to overcome. The first time I went to the com- 
 munion-table, after the lapse of all those dreary years of 
 sin and desperation, I asked myself, ' Have I a right to the 
 sacrament of the Lord's Supper ? — can I face God and say, 
 I forgive Agnes Powell ?' Finally, after a hard struggle, I 
 said, from the depths of my heart, 'Even as I need and 
 hope for forgiveness myself, I do fully forgive her.' Mark 
 you, it was my injuries that I pardoned, your treachery 
 that I forgave. But recollect there is a mournful truth in 
 those words: ''There is no pardon for desecrated ideals! 
 
540 ST. ELMO. 
 
 Once, in the flush of ray youth, I selected -j.oa as tie beau 
 ideal of beautiful, perfect womanhood ; but you fell from 
 that lofty pedestal where my ardent, boyish love set you 
 for worship, and you dragged me down, down, almost be- 
 yond the pale of God's mercy ! I forgive all my wrongs ; 
 but ' take you back, love you ?' Ah ! I can never love any 
 one, I never, even in my boyhood, loved you, as I love my 
 pure darling, my own Edna ! Her memory is all I have to 
 cheer and strengthen me in my lonely work. I do not be- 
 lieve that she is married; no, no, but she is in her grave. 
 For many days past, I have been oppressed by a horrible 
 presentiment that she has gone to her rest in Christ — that 
 the next steamer will bring me the tidings of her death. 
 Do not touch me, Agnes ! If there be any truth in what 
 you have to-day asserted so solemnly, (though I can not 
 believe it, for if you ridiculed and disliked me in my noble 
 youth, how can you love the same man in the melancholy 
 wreck of his hopes ?) if there be a shadow of truth in your 
 words, you are indeed to be pitied. Ah ! you and I have 
 learned at a terrible price the deceitfulness of riches, the 
 hollowness of this world's pleasures ; and both have 
 writhed under the poisonous fangs that always dart from 
 the dregs of the cup of sin, which you and I have drained. 
 Experience must have taught you, also, what I was so long 
 in learning — the utter hopelessness ofpeace for heart and 
 soul save only through that religion, which so far subdues 
 even my sinful, vindictive, satanic nature, that I can say to 
 you — you who blasted all my earthly happiness — I forgive 
 you my sufferings, and hope that God will give you that 
 pardon and comfort which after awful conflicts I have found 
 at last. Several times you have thrust yourself into my 
 presence ; but if there remains any womanly delicacy in 
 your nature, you will avoid me henceforth when I tell you 
 that I loathe the sight of one whose un womanliness stabbed 
 my trust in womanhood, and sunk me so low that I lost 
 Edna Earl. Agnes, go yonder — where I have spent so 
 many hours of agony — yonder to the graves of your vie* 
 
ST. ELMO. 541 
 
 tims as well as mine . Jo down on your knees j snder, awl 
 pray for yourself, and may God help you !" 
 
 He pointed to the gray vault and the slab that covered 
 Annie and Murray Hammond ; and disengaging her fingers, 
 which still clutched his sleeve, he turned quickly and walked 
 away. 
 
 Her mournful eyes, strained wide and full of tears, fol- 
 lowed him till his form was no longer visible ; and sinking 
 down on the monument — whence she had risen at his ap- 
 proach — she shrouded her fair, delicate features, and rocked 
 herseli to and fro with a despairing wail. 
 
 " Lost, lost ! O St. Elmo ! your loathing is more than I 
 can bear. Once he hung over me adoringly, wearying 
 me with his caresses ; now he shudders at my touch, as if I 
 were a viper. And I — what is there that I would not 
 give for one — just one — of the kisses, which twenty-three 
 years ago I put up my hand to ward off. O fool that I 
 was ! I cast away the light of his noble, earnest love, and 
 now he despises me ; and I must walk in darkness that 
 groAvs blacker as I grope. God grant that Eclna Earl may 
 indeed be in her grave ! Or that I may go down into 
 mine before he sees her again ! To give him up to her, 
 would be more than I could endure. Oh ! curses on that 
 calm face that stole the heart of my daughter's husband, 
 and won St. Elmo's love from me ! How I hate her ! Oh ! 
 hold her fast in your icy grasp, grim death ! For to see her 
 in St. Elmo's arms, would drive me wild ! Sleep in peace, 
 Murray Hammond, you are indeed avenged." 
 
 When she went slowly homeward an hour later, with her 
 veil drawn closely over her tear-stained face, the unvoiced 
 wish of her aching heart was like hopeless GUnone's : 
 
 " death, death, death, thou ever-floating cloud ! 
 There are enough unhappy on this earth ; 
 Pass by the happy souls that love to live : 
 I pray thee pass before my light of life, 
 And shadow all my soul, that I may die. 
 Thou weighest heavy on the heart within, 
 Weigh heavy on my eyerids : let me die." 
 
CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 OW lovely ! Oh ! I did not think there was any 
 place half so beautiful, this side of heaven !" 
 
 With his head on his mother's bosom, Felix 
 lay near the window of an upper room, looking 
 out over the Gulf of Genoa. 
 
 The crescent curve of the olive-mantled Apennines gir- 
 dled the city in a rocky clasp, and mellowed by distance 
 and the magic enamelling of evening light, each particular 
 peak rose against the chrysoprase sky like a pyramid of 
 lapis lazuli, around whose mighty base rolled soft waves 
 of golden haze. 
 
 Over the glassy bosom of the Gulf, where glided boats 
 filled with gay, pleasure-seeking Italians, floated the merry 
 strains of a barcarole; with the silvery echo of "Fidulin" 
 keeping time with the silvery gleam of the dipping oars. 
 
 " And the sun went into the west, and down 
 Upon the water stooped an orange cloud, 
 And the pale irrilky reaches flushed, as glad 
 To wear its colors ; and the sultry air 
 Went out to sea, and puffed the sails of ships 
 With thymy wafts, the breath of trodden grass." 
 
 " Lift me up, mamma ! higher, higher yet. I want to see 
 the sun. There ! it has gone — gone down into the sea. I 
 can't bear to see it set to-day. It seemed to say good-by to 
 me, just then. O mamma, mamma ! I don't want to die. The 
 world is so beautiful, and life is so sweet up here in the sun- 
 
ST. ELMO. 543 
 
 shine find the starlight, and it is so ccud and daik r lown 
 there in the grave. Oh ! where is Edna ? Tell her tc come 
 quick and sing something to me." 
 
 The cripple shuddered and shut his eyes. He had wasted 
 away, until he looked a mere shadow of humanity, and hi? 
 governess stooped and took him from his mother's arins a 
 if ha were a baby. 
 
 " Edna, talk to me ! Oh ! don't let me get afraid to die ! 
 I " 
 
 She laid her lips on his, and the touch calmed their shiv- 
 ering ; and, after a moment, she began to repeat the apo- 
 calyptic vision of heaven : 
 
 " And there shall be no night there ; and they need no 
 candle, neither light of the sun ; for the Lord God giveth 
 thetn light ; and they shall reign for ever and ever." 
 
 " But, Edna, the light does not shine down there in 
 the grave. If you could go with me " 
 
 "A better and kinder Friend will go with you, dear Felix." 
 
 She sang with strange pathos "Motet," that beautiful 
 arrangement of " The Lord is my Shepherd." 
 
 As she reached that part where the words, " Yea though 
 I walk through the valley of the shadow of death," are re- 
 peated, the weak quavering voice of the sick boy joined 
 hers ; and, when she ceased, the emaciated face was placid, 
 the great dread had passed awajr for ever. 
 
 Anxious to divert his thoughts, she put into his hand a 
 bunch of orange-flowers and violets, which had beer, sent 
 to her that day by Mr. Manning ; and taking a book from 
 the bed, she resumed the reading of " The Shepherd of Salis 
 bury Plain," to which the invalid had never wearied of listen- 
 ing. 
 
 But she soon saw that for once he was indifferent ; and, 
 understanding the expression of the eyes that gazed out on 
 the purple shadows shrouding the Apennines, she closed 
 the volume, and laid the sufferer back on his pillow. 
 
 While she was standing before a table, preparing some 
 
544 ST. ELMO. 
 
 nourishment to be given to him during the night, Mrs. An 
 drews came close to her and whispered : 
 
 " Do you see much change ? Is he really worse, or do 
 my fears magnify every bad symptom ?" 
 
 " He is much exhausted, but I trust the stimulants will 
 revive him. You must go to bed early, and get a good 
 sound sleep, for you look worn out. I will wake you if I 
 see any decided change in him." 
 
 Mrs. Andrews hung for some time over her child's pillow, 
 caressing him, saying tender, soothing, motherly things; 
 and, after a while, she and Hattie kissed him, and went into 
 the adjoining room, leaving him to the care of one whom 
 he loved better than all the world beside. 
 
 It was late at night before the sound of laughter, song, 
 and chatter died away in the streets of Genoa the magnifi- 
 cent. While the human tide ebbed and flowed under the 
 windows, Felix was restless, and his companion tried to in- 
 terest him, by telling him the history of the Dorias, and of 
 the siege during which Massena won such glory. Her con 
 versation drifted away, even to Ancona, and that sad but 
 touching incident, which Sismondi records, of the noble 
 patriotic young mother, who gave to a starving soldier the 
 milk that her half-famished babe required, and sent him, 
 thus refreshed and strengthened, to defend the walls of her 
 beleaguered city. 
 
 The boy's fondness for history showed itself, even then, 
 and he listened attentively to her words. 
 
 At length silence reigned through the marble palaces 
 and Edna rose to place the small lamp in an alabaster vase. 
 
 As she did so, something flew into her face, and fluttered 
 to the edge of the vase, and as she attempted to brush it off, 
 she started back, smothering a cry of horror. It was the 
 Sphinx Atropos, the Death's Head Moth; and there, upon 
 its breast, appallingly distinct, grinned the ghastly gray hu- 
 man skull. Twice it circled rapidly round the vase, utter- 
 ing strange stridulous sounds, then floated up to the canopy 
 
ST. ELMO. 545 
 
 overarching Felix's bed, and poised itself ;n Lie carved 
 frame, waiting and flapping its wings, vulture-like. Shud- 
 dering from head to foot, notwithstanding the protest which 
 reason offered against superstition, the governess sat down 
 to watch the boy's slumber. 
 
 His eye3 were closed, and she hoped that he slept ; but 
 presently he feebly put out his skeleton hand aid took 
 hers. 
 
 " Edna, mamma can not hear me, can she ?" 
 
 " She is asleep, but I will wake her if you wish it." 
 
 " JSTo, she would only begin to cry, and that would worry 
 
 me. Edna, I want you to promise me one thing " He 
 
 paused a few seconds and sighed wearily. 
 
 " When you all go back home, don't leave me here ; take 
 me with you, and lay my poor little deformed body in the 
 ground, at ' The Willows,' where the sea will sing over me. 
 We were so happy there ! I always thought I should like 
 my grave to be under the tallest willow, where our canary's 
 cage used to hang. Edna, I don't think you will live long — 
 I almost hope you won't — and I want you to promise me, 
 too, that you will tell them to bury us close together ; so 
 that the very moment I rise out of my grave, on the day of 
 judgment, I will see your face ! Sometimes, when I think 
 of the millions and millions that will be pressing up for 
 their trial before God's throne, on that great awful day, I 
 am afraid I might lose or miss you in the crowd, and never 
 find you again ; but you know, if our coffins touch, you can 
 stretch out your hand to me as you rise, and we can go to- 
 gether. Oh ! I want your face to be the last I see here, 
 and the first — yonder." 
 
 He raised his fingers slowly, and they fell bach; wearily 
 on the coverlet. 
 
 " Don't talk so, Felix. O my darling! God will not 
 take you away from me. Try to sleep, shut your eyes ; 
 you need rest to compose you." 
 ' She knelt down, kissed him repeatedly, and laid her face 
 
546 ST. ELMO. 
 
 close to his on the pillow ; and he tried to tin i and pat Lis 
 emaciated arm around her neck. 
 
 "Edna, I have been a trouble to you for a long time ; but 
 you will miss me when I am gone, and you will have nothing 
 to love. If you live long, marry Mr. Manning, and let him 
 take care of you. Don't work so hard, dear Edna ; only 
 rest, and let him make you happy. Before I knew you I 
 was always wishing to die ; but now I hate to leave you all 
 alone, my own dear, pale Edna." 
 
 " O Felix, darling ! hush ! Go to sleep. You wring 
 my heart!" 
 
 Her sobs distressed him, and, feebly patting her cheek, 
 he said : 
 
 " Perhaps if you will sing me something low, I may go to 
 sleep, and I want to hear your voice once more. Sing me 
 that song about the child and the rose-bush, that Hattie 
 likes so much." 
 
 " Not that ! any thing but that ! It is too sad, my pre- 
 cious little darling." 
 
 " But I want to hear it ; please, Edna." 
 
 It was an exquisitely painful task that he imposed, but 
 his wishes ruled her ; and she tried to steady her voice as 
 she sang, in a very low, faltering tone, the beautiful but 
 melancholy ballad. Tears rolled over her face as she 
 chanted the verses ; and, when she concluded, he repeated 
 very faintly : 
 
 " Sweetly it rests, and on dreani-wings flies, 
 To play with tlie angels in paradise ! " 
 
 lie nestled his lips to hers, and, after a little while, mur 
 mured : 
 
 « Good-night, Edna !" 
 
 " Good-night, my darling !" 
 
 She gave him a stimulating potion, and arranged his head 
 comfortably. Ere long his heavy breathing told her that 
 
ST. EiM^ 547 
 
 he slept, and, stealing from his side, she sat down in .1 lai ge 
 chair near the head of his bed, and watched him. 
 
 For many months he had been failing, and they had trav- 
 elled from place to place, hoping against hope that each 
 change would certainly be beneficial. 
 
 Day and night Edna had nursed him, had devoted every 
 thought, almost every prayer to /him ; and now her heart 
 seemed centred in him. Scenery, music, painting, rare 
 mss., all were ignored; she lived only for that poor depend- 
 ent boy, and knew not a moment of peace when separated 
 from him. She had ceased to study aught but his comfort 
 and hajDpiness, had written nothing save letters to friends ; 
 and notwithstanding her anxiety concerning the cripple, 
 the frequent change of air had surprisingly improved her 
 own health. For six months she had escaped the attacks 
 so much dreaded, and began to believe her restoration com- 
 plete, though the long-banished color obstinately refused to 
 return to her face, which seemed unable to recover its 
 rounded outline. Still she was very grateful for the immu- 
 nity from suffering, especially as it permitted more unre- 
 mitting attendance upon Felix. 
 
 She knew that his life was flickering out gently but sure- 
 ly ; and now, as she watched the pale, pinched features, her 
 own writhed, and she clasped her hands and wept, and 
 stifled a groan. 
 
 She had prayed so passionately and continually that he 
 might be spared to her ; but it seemed that whenever her 
 heart-strings wrapped themselves around an idol, a jealous 
 God tore them loose, and snatched away the dear object, 
 and left the heart to bleed. If that boy died, how utterly 
 desolate and lonely she would be ; nothing left to care for 
 and to cling to, nothing to claim as her own, and anoint 
 with the tender love of her warm heart. 
 
 She had been so intensely interested in the expansion of 
 his mind, had striven so tirelessly to stimulate his brain, 
 and soften and purify his heart ; she had been so proud of 
 
5-18 ST. ELMO. 
 
 his rapid progress, and so ambitious for his future, and uo^r 
 the mildew of death was falling on her fond hopes. Ah ! 
 she had borne patiently many trials, but this appeared un- 
 endurable. She had set all her earthly happiness on a 
 little thing — the life of a helpless cripple; and as she gazed 
 through her tears at that shrunken, sallow face, so dear to 
 her, it seemed hard ! hard ! that God denied her this one 
 blessing What was the praise and admiration of all the 
 world in comparison with the loving light in that child's 
 eyes, and the tender pressure of his lips ? 
 
 The woman's ambition had long been fully satisfied, and 
 even exacting conscience, jealously guarding its shrine, saw 
 daily sacrifices laid thereon, and smiled approvingly upon 
 her ; but the woman's hungry heart cried out, and fought 
 fiercely, famine-goaded, for its last vanishing morsel of 
 human love and sympathy. Verily, these bread-riots of 
 the heart are fearful things, and crucified consciences too 
 often mark their track. 
 
 The little figure on the bed was so motionless, that Edna 
 crept nearer and leaned down to listen to the breathing ; 
 and her tears fell on his thick, curling hair, and upon the 
 orange-blossoms and violets. 
 
 Standing there, she threw up her clenched hands and 
 prayed sobbingly : 
 
 " My Father ! spare the boy to me !- I will dedicate anew 
 my life and his to thy work ! I will make him a minister 
 of thy word, and he shall save precious souls. Oh ! do not 
 take him away ! If not for a lifetime, at least spare him a 
 few years ! Even one more year, O my God !" 
 
 She walked to the window, rested her forehead against 
 the stone facing, and looked out ; and the wonderful witch- 
 ery of the solemn night wove its spell around her. G:eat, 
 golden stars clustered in the clear heavens, and were re- 
 flected in the calm, blue pavement of the Mediterranean, 
 where not a ripple shivered their shining images. A wan- 
 ing crescent moon swiang hij^h over the eastern crest of 
 
8T. ELMO. 549 
 
 the Apennines, and threw a weird light aloLg t'«a e Delia's 
 marble palace, and down on the silver gray olives, on the 
 glistening orange-groves, snow-powdered with fragrant 
 bloom ; and in that wan, mysterious, and most melancholy 
 
 light— 
 
 " The. old, miraculous mountains heaved in sight, 
 One straining past another along the shore 
 The way of grand, dull Odyssean ghosts, 
 Athirst to drink the cool, blue wine of seas, 
 And stare on voyagers." 
 
 From some lofty campanile, in a distant section of the 
 silent city, sounded the angelus bell ; and from the deep 
 shadow of olive, vine, and myrtle that clothed the amphi- 
 theatre of hills, the convent-bells caught and reechoed it. 
 
 " Nature comes sometimes, 
 And says, ' I am ambassador for God ;' " 
 
 and the splendor of the Italian night spoke to Edna's soul, 
 as the glory of the sunset had done some years before, when 
 she sat in the dust in the pine glades at Le Bocage ; and 
 she grew calm once more, while out of the blue depths of 
 the starlit sea came a sacred voice, that said to her aching 
 heart : 
 
 " Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you : not 
 as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart 
 be troubled, neither let it be afraid." 
 
 The cup was not passing away ; but courage to drain it 
 was given by Him, who never calls his faithful children 
 into the gloom of Gethsemane, without having first sta- 
 tioned close at hand some strengthening angel. The gov- 
 erness went back to the bed, and there, on the pillow, 
 rested the moth, which at her approach flew away with a 
 humming sound, and disappeared. 
 
 After another hour she saw that a change was stealing 
 over the boy's countenance, and his pulse fluttered more 
 feebly against her cold fingers. She sprang into the next 
 
550 8T - ELMO. 
 
 room, shook his mother, and hastened back, trying to rouso 
 the dying child, and give him some stimulants. But though 
 the large, black eyes opened when she raised his he ad, there 
 was no recognition in their fixed gaze ; for the soul was pre- 
 paring for its final flight, and was too busy to look out of 
 its windows. 
 
 In vain they resorted to the most powerful restoratives ; 
 he remained in the heavy stupor, with no sign of animation, 
 save the low, irregular, breath, and the weak flutter of the 
 thread-like pulse. 
 
 Mrs. Andrews wept aloud and wrung her hands, and Hat- 
 tie cried passionately, as she stood in her long white night- 
 gown at the side of her brother's bed ; but there were no 
 tears on Edna's cold gray face. She had spent them all at 
 the foot of God's throne ; and now that He had seen fit to 
 deny her petition, she silently looked with dry eyes at the 
 heavy rod that smote her. 
 
 The night waned, the life with it ; now and then the 
 breathing seemed to cease, but after a few seconds a faint 
 gasp told that the clay would not yet forego its hold on 
 the soul that struggled to be free. 
 
 The poor mother seemed almost beside herself, as she 
 called on her child to speak to her once more. 
 
 " Sing something, Edna ; oh ! perhaps he will hear ! It 
 might rouse him !" 
 
 The orphan shook her head, and dropped her face on his. 
 
 " He would not hear me ; no, no ! He is listening to the 
 song of those, whose golden harps ring in the New Jerusa- 
 lem." 
 
 Out of the whitening east rose the new day, radiant in 
 bridal garments, wearing a star on its pearly brow ; and the 
 sky flushed, and the sea glowed, while silvery mists rolled 
 up from the purple mountain gorges, and rested awhile on 
 t,he summits of the Apennines, and sunshine streamed over 
 Jhe world once more. 
 
 The first rays flashed into the room, kissing the withered 
 
ST. ELMO. 551 
 
 flowers on the bosom of the crippie, anJ fa lug worm 
 and bright on the cold eyelids and the pulseless temples. 
 Edna's hand was pressed to his heart, and she knew that it had 
 given its last weary throb ; knew that Felix Andrews had 
 crossed the sea of glass, and in the dawn of the Eternal day 
 wore the promised morning-star, and stood in peace before 
 the Sun of Righteousness. 
 
 During the two days that succeeded the death of Felix, 
 Edna did not leave her room ; and without her knowledge 
 Mrs. Andrews administered opiates that stupefied her. 
 Late on the morning of the third she awoke, and lay for 
 some time trying to collect her thoughts. 
 
 Her mind was clouded, but gradually it cleared, and she 
 strained her ears to distinguish the low words spoken in the 
 apartment next to her own. She remembered, as in a fever- 
 ish dream, all that passed on the night that Felix died ; and 
 pressing her hand over her aching forehead, she rose and 
 sat on the edge of her bed. 
 
 The monotonous sounds in the neighboring room swelled 
 louder for a few seconds, and now she heard very distinctly 
 the words : 
 
 " And I heard a voice from heaven, saying unto me, 
 Write, Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord from 
 henceforth." 
 
 She shivered, and wrapped around her shoulders a bright; 
 blue shawl that had been thrown over the foot of the bed. 
 
 Walking across the floor, she opened the door, and 
 looked in. 
 
 The boy's body had been embalmed, and placed in a 
 coffin which rested in the centre of the room ; and an Eng« 
 lish clergyman, a friend of Mr. Manning's, stood at the head 
 of the corpse, and read the burial service. 
 
 Mrs. Andrews and Hattie were weeping in one corner, 
 and Mr. Manning leaned against the window, with his hand 
 on Lila's curls. As the door swung open and Edna enterecL 
 he looked up. 
 
652 ST - elmo. 
 
 Her dressing gown of gray merino trailed on tl e marbla 
 floor, and her bare feet gleamed like ivory, as one hand 
 caught up the soft merino folds sufficiently to enable her 
 to walk. Over the blue shawl streamed her beautiful hair, 
 making the wan face look even more ghastly by contrast 
 ■with its glossy jet masses. 
 
 She stood irresolute, with her calm, mournful eyes riveted 
 on the coffin, and Mr. Manning saw her pale lips move as 
 ehe staggered toward it. He sprang to meet and intercept 
 her, and she stretched her hands in the direction of the 
 corpse, and smiled strangely, murmuring like one in a 
 troubled dream : 
 
 " You need not be afraid, little darling, ' there is no night 
 there.' " 
 
 She reeled and put her hand to her heart, and would have 
 fallen, but Mr. Manning caught and carried her back to her 
 room. 
 
 For two weeks she hovered on the borders of eternity ; 
 and often the anxious friends who watched her, felt that 
 they would rather see her die than endure the suffering, 
 through which she was called to pass. 
 
 She bore it silently, meekly, and when the danger seemed 
 over, and she was able to sleep without the aid of narcotics, 
 Mrs. Andrews could not bear to look at the patient white 
 face, so hopelessly calm. 
 
 No allusion was made to Felix, even after she was able to 
 sit up and ride ; but once, when Mr. Manning brought her 
 some flowers, she looked sorrowfully at the snowy orange- 
 blossoms, whose strong perfume made her turn paler, and 
 gaid faintly : 
 
 " I shall never love them or violets again. Take them 
 away, Hattie, out of my sight ; put them on your brother's 
 grave. They smell of death." 
 
 From that day she made a vigorous effort to rouse her- 
 self, and the boy's name never passed her lips ; though she 
 spent many hours over a small manuscript which she found 
 
ST. ELMO. 553 
 
 among his books, directed to her for revision. " Tales for 
 Little Cripples," was the title he had given it, and she was 
 surprised at the beauty and pathos of many of the sentences. 
 She carefully revised and rewrote it, adding a brief sketch 
 of the young writer, and gave it to his mother. 
 
 About a month after Felix's death the governess seemed 
 to have recovered her physical strength, and Mrs. Andrews 
 announced her intention of going to Germany. Mr. Man- 
 ning had engagements that called him to France, and, on 
 the last day of their stay at Genoa, he came as usual to 
 spend the evening with Edna. 
 
 A large budget of letters and papers had arrived from 
 America ; and when he gave her the package containing her 
 share, she glanced over the directions, threw them unopened 
 into a heap on the table, and continued the conversation in 
 which she was engaged, concerning the architecture of the 
 churches in Genoa. 
 
 Mrs. Andrews had gone to the vault where the body of 
 her son had been temporarily placed, and Edna was alone 
 with the editor. 
 
 " You ought to look into your papers ; they contain very 
 gratifying intelligence for you. Your last book has gone 
 through twenty editions, and your praises are chanted all 
 over your native land. Surely if ever a woman had adula- 
 tion enough to render her perfectly happy and pardonably 
 proud, you are the fortunate individual. Already your nu- 
 merous readers are inquiring when you will give them an- 
 other book." 
 
 She leaned her head back against her chair, and the little 
 hands caressed each other as they rested on her knee, while 
 her countenance was eloquent with humble gratitude for 
 the success, that God had permitted to crown her efforts ; 
 but she was silent. 
 
 " Do you intend to write a book of travels, embracing 
 the incidents that have marked your tour ? I see the public 
 expect it." 
 
554 ST. ELMO, 
 
 " ¥o, sir. It seems now a mere matter of course that 
 all scribblers who come to Europe, should afflict the reading 
 world with an account of what they saw or failed to see. 
 So many noble books have been already published, thor- 
 oughly describing this continent, that I have not the te- 
 merity, the presumption to attempt to retouch the grand 
 old word-pictures. At present, I expect to write nothing. 
 I want to study some subjects that greatly interest me, and 
 shall try to inform and improve myself, and keep silent until 
 I see some phase of truth neglected, or some new aspect of 
 error threatening mischief in society. Indeed, I have great 
 cause for gratitude in my literary career. At the beginning 
 I felt apprehensive that I was destined to sit always under 
 the left hand of fortune, whom Michael Angelo designed 
 as a lovely woman seated on a revolving wheel, throwing 
 crowns and laurel wreaths from her right hand, while only 
 thorns dropped in a sharp, stinging shower from the other ; 
 but, after a time, the wheel turned, and now I feel only the 
 soft pattering of the laurel leaves. God knows I do most 
 earnestly appreciate his abundant blessing upon what I 
 have thus far striven to effect ; but, until I see my way 
 clearly to some subject of importance which a woman's 
 hand may touch, I shall not take up my pen. Books seem 
 such holy things to me, destined to plead either for or against 
 their creators, in the final tribunal, that I dare not lightly 
 or hastily attempt to write them ; and I can not help think 
 ing that the author who is less earnestly and solemnly im- 
 pressed with the gravity, and, I may almost say, the sanc- 
 tity of his or her work, is unworthy of it, and of publio 
 confidence. I dare not, even if I could, dash off articles 
 and books as the rower shakes water-drops from his oar ; 
 and I humbly acknowledge that what success I may have 
 achieved is owing to hard, faithful work. I have received 
 so many kind letters from children that some time, if I live 
 to be wise enough, I want to write a book especially for 
 *hem. I am afraid to attempt it just now ; for it requires 
 
ST. ei,mo. 553 
 
 more mature judgment and experience, and greater versatil 
 ity of talent to write successfully for children than for 
 grown persons. In the latter, one is privileged to assume 
 native intelligence and cultivation ; but the tender,untutored 
 minds of the former permit no such margin ; and this fact 
 necessitates clearness and simplicity of style, and power of 
 illustration that seem to me very rare. As yet I am con- 
 scious of my incapacity for the mission of preparing juvenile 
 books ; but perhaps, if I study closely the characteristics of 
 young people, I shall learn to understand them more thor- 
 oughly. So much depends on the proper training of our 
 American youth, especially in view of the great political 
 questions that now agitate the country, that I confess I feel 
 some anxiety on the subject." 
 
 " But, Edna, you will not adhere to your resolution of 
 keeping silent. The public is a merciless task-master; 
 your own ambition will scourge you on ; and having once 
 put your hand to the literary plough, you will not be al- 
 lowed to look back. Rigorously the world exacts to the 
 last iota, the full quota of the author's arura" 
 
 " Yes, sir ; but ' he that plougheth should plough in hope ;' 
 and when I can see clearly across the wide field, and drive 
 the gleaming share of truth straight and steady to the end, 
 then, and not till then, shall I render my summer day's 
 antra. Meantime, I am resolved to plough no crooked, shal- 
 low furrows on the hearts of our people." 
 
 At length, when Mr. Manning rose to say good-night, he 
 looked gravely at the governess, and asked : 
 
 " Edna, can not Lila take the vacant place in your sad 
 heart ?" 
 
 " It is not vacant, sir. Dear memories walk to and fro 
 therein, weaving garlands of immortelles — singing sweet 
 tunes of days and years — that can never die. Hereafter I 
 shall endeavor to entertain the precious guests I have al- 
 ready, and admit no more. The past is the realm of my 
 heart ; the present and future the kingdom where my mind 
 must dwell, and my hands labor," 
 
556 ST. ELMO. 
 
 With a sigh he went away, and she took up the letters 
 and began to read them. Many were from strangers, and 
 they greatly cheered and encouraged her ; but finally sh« 
 opened one, whose superscription had until this instant es- 
 caped her cursory glance. It was from Mr. Hammond, and 
 contained an account of Mr. Murray's ordination. She 
 read and re-read it, with a halfbewildered expression in 
 her countenance, for the joy seemed far too great for cre- 
 dence. She looked again at the date and signature, and 
 passing her hand over her brow, wondered if there could 
 be any mistake. The paper fell into her lap, and a cry of 
 delight rang through the room. 
 
 " Saved — purified — consecrated henceforth to God's holy 
 work ? A minister of Christ ? O most merciful God ! I 
 thank thee ! My prayers are answered with a blessing I 
 never dared to hope for, or even to dream of! Can I ever, 
 ever be grateful enough ? A pastor, holding up pure 
 hands ! Thank God ! my sorrows are all ended now ; there 
 is no more grief for me. Ah ! what a glory breaks upon 
 the future ! What though I never see his face in this 
 world ? I can be patient indeed ; for now I know, oh ! I 
 know that I shall surely see it yonder !" 
 
 She sank on her knees at the open window, and wept for 
 the first time since Felix died. Happy, happy tears min- 
 gled with broken words of rejoicing,-that seemed a foretaste 
 of heaven. 
 
 Her heart was so full of gratitude and exultation, that 
 she could not sleep, and she sat down and looked over the 
 sea, while her face was radiant and tremulous. The transi- 
 tion from patient hopelessness and silent struggling — this 
 most unexpected and glorious fruition of the prayers of 
 many years — was so sudden and intoxicating, that it com- 
 pletely unnerved her. 
 
 She could not bear this great happiness as she had borne 
 her sorrows, and now and then she smiled to find the team 
 gushing afresh from her beaming eyes. 
 
ST. ELMO. 507 
 
 Once, in an hour of sinful madness, Mr. Murray had taken 
 a human life, and ultimately caused the loss of another ; 
 but the waves that were running high beyond the mole 
 told her in thunder-tones that he had saved, had snatched 
 two lives from their devouring rage. And the shining stars 
 overhead grouped themselves into characters that said to 
 her, " Judge not, that ye be not judged ;" and the ancient 
 mountains whispered, " Stand still, and see the salvation of 
 God!" and the grateful soul of the lonely woman an- 
 swered : 
 
 " That all the jarring notea of life 
 
 Seem blending in a psalm, 
 
 And all the angles of its strife 
 
 Slow rounding into calm." 
 
CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 "MMEDIATELY after her return to New- York, 
 Edna resumed her studies with renewed energy, 
 and found her physical strength recruited and 
 her mind invigorated by repose. Her fondness 
 for Hattie induced her to remain with Mrs. Andrews, in 
 the capacity of governess, though her position in the family 
 had long ceased to resemble in any respeet that of a hire- 
 ling. Five hours of each day were devoted to the educa- 
 tion of the little girl, who, though vastly inferior in mental 
 endowments to her brother, was an engaging and exceed- 
 ingly affectionate child, fully worthy of the love which her 
 gifted governess lavished upon her. The remainder of her 
 time Edna divided between study, music, and an extensive 
 correspondence, which daily increased. 
 
 She visited little, having no leisure and less inclination to 
 fritter away her mornings in gossip and chit-chat ; but she 
 appropriated one evening in each week to the reception of 
 her numerous kind friends, and of all strangers who desired 
 to call upon her. These reunions were brilliant and de- 
 lightful, and it was considered a privilege to be present at 
 gatherings where eminent men and graceful, refined, cul- 
 tivated Christian women assembled to discuss ethical and 
 aesthetic topics, which all educated Americans are deemed 
 capable of comprehending. 
 
 Edna's abhorrence of double entendre and of the fashion- 
 able sans souci style of conversation, which was tolerated 
 by many who really disliked but had not nerve enough to 
 
ST. ELMO. 559 
 
 frown it down, was not a secret to any who read her writr 
 ings or attended her receptions. Without obtruding he* 
 rigid views of true womanly delicacy and decorum upon 
 any one, her deportment under all circumstances silently 
 published her opinion of certain latitudinarian expressions 
 prevalent in society. 
 
 She saw that the growing tendency to free and easy man- 
 ners and colloquial license was rapidly destroying all rev 
 erence for womanhood ; was levelling the distinction be- 
 tween ladies' parlors and gentlemen's club-rooms ; was 
 placing the sexes on a platform of equality which was dan- 
 gerous to feminine delicacy, that God-built bulwark of femi- 
 nine purity and of national morality. 
 
 That time-honored maxim, " Honi soit qui mal y pense" 
 she found had been distorted from its original and noble 
 significance, and was now a mere convenient India-rubber 
 cloak, stretched at will to cover and excuse allusions which 
 no really modest woman could tolerate. Consequently 
 when she heard it flippantly pronounced in pilhation of 
 some gross offence against delicacy,she looked more search- 
 ingly into the characters of the indiscreet talkers, and quiet- 
 ly intimated to them that their presence was not desired at 
 her receptions. Believing that modesty and purity were 
 twin sisters, and that vulgarity and vice were rarely if ever 
 divorced, Edna sternly refused to associate with those whose 
 laxity of manners indexed, in her estimation, a correspond- 
 ing laxity of morals. Married belles and married beaux she 
 sbunned and detested, regarding them as a disgrace to their 
 families, as a blot upon all noble womanhood and manhood, 
 and as the most dangerous foes to the morality of the com- 
 munity, in which they unblushingly violated hearth-stone 
 statutes and the venerable maxims of social decorum. 
 
 The ostracized banded in wrath, and ridiculed her anti- 
 quated prudery; but knowing that the pure and noble 
 mothers, wives, and daughters honored and trusted her, 
 Edna gave no heed to raillery and envious malice, but reso 
 
560 -»» ELMO. 
 
 lutely obeyed the dictates of conscience and ti^e prcniptmgs 
 of her womanly intuitions. 
 
 Painful experience had taught her the imprulence, the 
 short-sighted policy of working until very late at night ; 
 and in order to take due care of her health, she wisely re- 
 sorted to a different system of study, which gave her more 
 sleep, and allowed her some hours of daylight for her lite- 
 rary labors. 
 
 In the industrial pursuits of her own sex she was intensely 
 interested, and spared no trouble in acquainting herself with 
 the statistics of those branches of employment already open 
 to them; consequently she was never so happy as when the 
 recipient of letters from the poor women of the land, who 
 thanked her for the words of hope, advice, and encourage- 
 ment which she constantly addressed to them. 
 
 While the world honored her, she had the precious assur- 
 ance that her Christian countrywomen loved and trusted 
 her. She felt the painful need of Mr. Manning's society, and 
 even his frequent letters did not fully satisfy her; but as he 
 had resolved to reside in Europe, at least for some years, 
 she bore the irreparable loss of his counsel and sympathy, 
 as she bore all other privations, bravely and quietly. 
 
 Now and then alarming symptoms of the old suffering 
 warned her of the uncertainty of her life ; and after much 
 deliberation, feeling that her time was limited, she com- 
 menced another book. 
 
 Mr. Hammond wrote begging her to come to him, as he 
 was now hopelessly infirm, and confined to his room ; but 
 3he shrank from a return to the village so intimately asso- 
 ciated with events which she wished if possible to forget ; 
 and, while she declined the invitation, she proved her affec- 
 tion for her venerable teacher by sending him every day a 
 long, cheerful letter. 
 
 Since her departure from the parsonage Mrs. Murray had 
 never written to her ; but through Mr. Hammond's and Hul- 
 dah's letters Edna learned that Mr. Murray was the officiat 
 
ST. ELMO. 5(31 
 
 ing minister in the church which he had. buJt in Lis boy- 
 hood ; and now and then the old pastor painted pictures of 
 life at Le Bocage,that brought happy tears to the orphan's 
 eyes She heard from time to time of the good the new 
 minister was accomplishing among the poor ; of the bene 
 ficial influence he exerted, especially over the young men of 
 the community ; of the charitable institutions to which he 
 was devoting a large portion of his fortune ; of the love 
 and respect, the golden opinions he was winning from 
 those whom he had formerly estranged by his sarcastic bit- 
 terness. 
 
 While Edna fervently thanked God for this most wonder- 
 ful change, she sometimes repeated exultingly : 
 
 " Man-like is it to fall into sin, 
 Fiend-like is it to dwell therein, 
 Christ-like is it for sin to grieve, 
 God-like is it all sin to leave !" 
 
 Only one cause of disquiet now remained. The political 
 storm of 1861 alarmed her; and she determined that if the 
 threatened secession of the South took place, she would im- 
 mediately remove to Charleston or New-Orleans, link her 
 destiny with the cause which she felt was so just, so holy, 
 and render faithful allegiance to the section she loved so well. 
 She knew that she could easily obtain a school, or support 
 herself by her pen ; and moreover, a very respectable 
 amount — the careful savings of sums paid by her publish- 
 ers — was now in Mr. Andrews keeping. 
 
 One darling rose-hued dream of her life was to establish 
 a free-school and circulating library in the village of Chat- 
 tanooga ; and keeping this hope ever in view, she had denied 
 herself all superfluous luxuries, and jealously hoarded her 
 savings. 
 
 She felt now that, should she become an invalid, and in- 
 capable of writing or teaching, the money which Mr. An- 
 drews had invested very judiciously, would at least supply 
 hei with the necessities of life. 
 
5f>2 ST. ELMO. 
 
 One evening she held her weekly reception as usual,, 
 though she had complained of not feeling quite wel. that day. 
 
 A number of carriages stood before Mrs. Andrews' door, 
 and many friends who laughed and talked to the governess, 
 little dreamed that it was the last time they would spend 
 an evening together in her society. The pleasant hours 
 passed swiftly ; Edna had never conversed more gracefully 
 or brilliantly, and the auditors thought her voice was richer 
 and sweeter than ever, as she sang the last song and rose 
 from the piano. 
 
 The guests took their departure — the carriages rolled 
 away. 
 
 Mrs. Andrews ran up to her room, and Edna paused in 
 the brilliantly lighted parlors to read a note, which had 
 been handed to her during the evening. 
 
 Standing under the blazing chandelier, the face and figure 
 of this woman could not fail to excite interest in all who 
 gazed upon her. 
 
 She was dressed in plain black silk, which exactly fitted 
 her form, and in her hair glowed rich clusters of scarlet 
 sage and geranium flowers. A spray of red fuchsia was 
 fastened by the beautiful stone cameo that confined her lace 
 collar ; and, save the handsome gold bands on her wrists, 
 she wore no other ornaments. 
 
 Felix had given her these bracelets" as a Christmas pre- 
 sent, and after his death she never took them off; for inside 
 he had his name and hers engraved, and between them the 
 word " Mizpah." 
 
 To-night the governess was very weary, and the fair sweet 
 face wore its old childish expression of mingled hopeless- 
 ness, and perfect patience, and indescribable repose. As 
 she read, the tired look passed away, and over her pallid 
 features, so daintily sculptured, stole a faint glow, such as 
 an ivory Niobe might borrow from the fluttering crimson 
 folds of silken shroudings. The peaceful lips stirred also, 
 and the low tone was full of pathos as she said; 
 
ST. ELMO. 563 
 
 " How very grateful I ought to be. How much I have 
 to make me happy, to encourage me to work diligently and 
 faithfully. How comforting it is to feel that parents have 
 sufficient confidence in me to be willing to commit their 
 children to my care. What more can I wish ? My cup is 
 brimmed with blessings. Ah ! why am I not entirely hap- 
 py?" 
 
 The note contained the signatures of six wealthy gentle- 
 men, who requested her acceptance of a tasteful and hand- 
 some house, on condition that she would consent to under- 
 take the education of their daughtei's, and permit them to 
 pay her a liberal salary. 
 
 It was a flattering tribute to the clearness of her intel- 
 lect, the soundness of her judgment, the extent of her ac- 
 quirements, and the purity of her heart. 
 
 While she could not accede to the proposition, she ap- 
 preciated most gratefully the generosity and good opinion 
 of those who made it. 
 
 Twisting the note between her fingers, her eyes fell on 
 the carpet, and she thought of all her past ; of the sorrows, 
 struggles, and heart-aches, the sleepless nights and weary, 
 joyless days — first of adverse, then of favorable criticism ; 
 of toiling, hoping, dreading, praying ; and now, in the 
 peaceful zenith of her triumph, popularity, and usefulness, 
 she realized 
 
 " That care and trial seem at last, 
 Through Memory's sunset air. 
 Like mountain ranges overpast, 
 In purple distance fair." 
 
 The note fluttered to the floor, the hands folded them- 
 selves together, and she raised her eyes to utter an humble 
 fervent " Thank God !'•* But the words froze on her lips ; 
 for as she looked up, she saw Mr. Murray standing a few 
 feet from her. 
 
 " God has pardoned all my sins, and accepted me as a 
 
504 ST. ELMO. 
 
 laborer worthy to enter his vineyard. Is EcLla Earl more 
 righteous than the Lord she worships i ' 
 
 His face was almost as pale as hers, and his voice trem- 
 bled as he extended his arms toward her. 
 
 She stood motionless, looking up at him with eyes that 
 brightened and brightened until their joyful radiance 
 seemed indeed unearthly ; and the faint, delicate blush on 
 her cheeks deepened and burned, and with a quivering cry 
 of gladness that told volumes, she hid her face in her 
 hands. 
 
 He came nearer, and the sound of his low, mellow voice 
 thrilled her heart as no other music had ever done. 
 
 " Edna, have you a right to refuse me forgiveness, when 
 the blood of Christ has purified me from the guilt of other 
 years ?" 
 
 She trembled and said brokenly : 
 
 " Mr. Murray — you never wronged me — and I have noth- 
 ing to forgive." 
 
 " Do you still believe me an unprincipled hypocrite ?" 
 
 " Oh ! no, no, no !" 
 
 "Do you believe that rny repentance has been sincere, 
 and acceptable to mv insulted God ? Do you believe that 
 I am now as faithfully endeavoring to serve Him, as a re- 
 morseful man possibly can ?" 
 
 " I hope so, Mr. Murray." 
 
 " Edna, can you trust me now ?" 
 
 Some seconds elapsed before she answere and then the 
 words were scarcely audible. 
 
 " I trust you." 
 
 " Thank God !" 
 
 There was a brief pause, and she heard a heavily-drawn 
 sigh escape him. 
 
 " Edna, it is useless to tell you how devotedly I love 
 you, for you have known that for years : and yet you have 
 shown my love no mercy. But perhaps if you could realize 
 how much I need your help in my holy work, how much 
 
ST. ELMO. 5gg 
 
 more good I could accomplish in the world if you were 
 with me, you might listen, without steeling yourself against 
 me, as you have so long done. Can you, will you trust me 
 fully '? Can you be a minister's wife, and aid him as only 
 you can ? O my darling, my darling ! I never expect to 
 be worthy of you ! But you can make me less unworthy ! 
 My own darling, come to me." 
 
 He stood within two feet of her, but he was — too hum« 
 ble? Nay, nay, too proud to touch her without permis- 
 sion. 
 
 Her hands fell from her crimson cheeks, and she looked 
 up at the countenance of her king. 
 
 In her fond eyes he seemed noble and sanctified, and 
 worthy of all confidence ; and as he opened his arms once 
 more, she glided into them and laid her head on his shoul- 
 der, whispering : 
 
 " Oh ! I trust you ! I trust you fully !" 
 
 " Ask me no more : thy fate and mine are sealed : 
 I strove against the stream, and all in vain : 
 Let the great river take me to the main : 
 No more, dear love, for at a touch I yield : 
 Ask me no more." 
 
 Standing in the close, tender clasp of his strong arms, 
 she listened to a narration of his grief and loneliness, his 
 hopes and fears, his desolation and struggles and prayers 
 during their long separation. Then for the first time she 
 learned that he had come more than once to New-York, 
 solely to see her, having exacted a promise from Mr. Man- 
 ning that he would not betray his presence in the city. 
 He had followed her at a distance as she wandered with 
 the children through the park ; and, once in the ramble, 
 stood so close to her, that he put out his hand and touched 
 her dress. Mr. Manning had acquainted him with all that 
 had ever passed between them on the subject of his unsuc- 
 cessful suit ; and during her sojourn in Europe, had kept 
 him regularly advised of the state of her health. 
 
566 ST. ELMO. 
 
 At last, when Mr. Murray bent his head to press lis lips 
 again to hers, he exclaimed in the old, pleading tone that 
 had haunted her memory for years : 
 
 " Edna, "with all your meekness you are wilfully proud .' 
 You tell me you trust me, and you nestle your dear head 
 here on my shoulder — why won't you say what you know 
 so well I am longing, hungering to hear ? Why won't you 
 say, ' St. Elmo, I love you' ? " 
 
 The glowing face was only pressed closer. 
 
 " My little darling !" 
 
 " O Mr. Murray ! could I be here " 
 
 " Well, my stately Miss Earl ! I am waiting most re- 
 spectfully to allow you an opportunity of expressing 
 yourself." 
 
 ~No answer. 
 
 He laughed as she had heard him once before, when he 
 took her in his arms and dared her to look into his eyes. 
 
 " When I heard your books extolled ; when I heard your 
 praises from men, women, and children ; when I could 
 scarcely pick up a paper without finding some mention of 
 your name ; when I came here to-night, and paced the 
 pavement, waiting for your admirers to leave the house ; 
 whenever and wherever I have heard your dear name 
 uttered, I have been exultingly proud ! For I knew that 
 the heart of the people's pet was mine,' all mine ! I gloried 
 in the consciousness, which alone strengthened and com- 
 forted me, that, despite all that the public could offer you, 
 despite the adulation of other men, and despite my utter 
 unworthiness, my own darling was true to me ! that you 
 never loved any one but St. Elmo Murray ! And as God 
 reigns above us, his happy world holds no man so grateful, 
 so happy, so proud as I am ! No man so resolved to prove 
 himself worthy of his treasure ! Edna, looking back across 
 the dark years that have gone so heavily over my head, 
 and comparing you, my pure, precious darling, with that 
 woman, whom in my boyhood I selected for my (ife-com 
 
ST. ELMO. 567 
 
 panion, I know not whether I am most humble, or giateful, 
 
 or proud ! 
 
 'Ah ! who am I, that God hath saved 
 Me from the doom I did desire, 
 And crossed the lot myself had craved 
 
 To set me higher ? 
 What have I done that he should bow 
 
 From heaven to choose a wife for me \ 
 And what deserved, he should endow 
 My home with thee Y " 
 
 As Mr. Hammond was not able to take the fatiguing 
 journey north, and Edna would not permit any one else to 
 perform her marriage ceremony, she sent Mr. Murray home 
 without her, promising to come to the parsonage as early as 
 possible. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Andrews were deeply pained by the intel- 
 ligence of her approaching departure, and finally they con- 
 sented to accompany her on her journey. 
 
 The last day of the orphan's sojourn in New- York was 
 spent at the quiet spot where Felix slept his last sleep ; and 
 it caused her poignant grief to bid gtood-bye to his resting- 
 place, which was almost as dear to her as the grave of her 
 grandfather. Their affection had been so warm, so sacred, 
 that she clung fondly to his memory ; and it was not until 
 she reached the old depot, where carriages were waiting 
 for the party, that the shadow of that day entirely left her 
 countenance. 
 
 In accordance with her own request, Edna did not seo 
 Mr. Murray again until the hour appointed for their mar- 
 riage. 
 
 It was a bright, beautiful aftenioon, warm with sunshine, 
 when she permitted Mrs. Murray to lead her into the study 
 where the party had assembled. Mr. and Mrs. Andrews, 
 Hattie, Huldah, and the white-haired pastor, were al] 
 there ; and when Edna entered, Mr. Murray advanced to 
 meet her, and received her hand from his mother. 
 
568 ST - ELMO. 
 
 The orphan's eyes were bent to the floor, an J never once 
 lifted, even when the trembling voice of her beloved pastor 
 pronounced her St. Elmo Murray's wife. The intense pal- 
 lor of her face frightened Mrs. Andrews, who watched her 
 with suspended breath, and once moved eagerly toward her. 
 Mr. Murray felt her lean more heavily against him during 
 the ceremony ; and, now turning to take her in his arms, he 
 saw that her eyelashes had fallen on her cheeks — she had 
 lost all consciousness of what was passing. 
 
 Two hours elapsed before she recovered fully from the 
 attack ; and when the blood showed itself again in lips 
 that were kissed so repeatedly, Mr. Murray lifted her from 
 the sofa in the study, and passing his arm around her, said : 
 
 " To-day I snap the fetters of your literary bondage. 
 There shall be no more books written ! No more study, 
 no more toil, no more anxiety, no more heart-aches ! And 
 that dear public you love so well, must even help itself, and 
 whistle for a new pet. You belong solely to me now, and 
 I shall take care of the life you have nearly destroyed in 
 your inordinate ambition. Come, the fresh air will revive 
 you." 
 
 They stood a moment under the honeysuckle arch over 
 the parsonage gate, where the carriage was waiting to take 
 them to Le Bocage, and Mr. Murray asked : 
 
 " Are you strong enough to go to the church ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir ; the pain has all passed away. I am perfectly 
 well again." 
 
 They crossed the street, and he took her in his arms and 
 carried her up the steps, and into the grand, solemn church, 
 where the soft, holy violet light from the richly-tinted 
 glass streamed over gilded organ-pipes and sculptured 
 columns. 
 
 Neither Edna nor St. Elmo spoke as they walked down 
 the aisle ; and in perfect silence both knelt before the shin- 
 ing altar, and only God heard their prayers of gratitude. 
 
 After some moments Mr. Murray put out his hand, took 
 
ST. ELMO. 569 
 
 Edna's, and, holding it it his on the top of the balus- 
 trade, he prayed aloud, asking God's blessing on their mar- 
 riage, and fervently dedicating all their future to his work. 
 
 And the hectic flush of the dying day was reflected on 
 the window high above the altar, and, burning thi ough the 
 red mantle of the Christ, fell down upon the marble shiine 
 like sacred, sacrificial fire. 
 
 Edna felt as if her heart could not hold all its measure- 
 less joy. It seemed a delightful dream to see Mr. Murray 
 kneeling at her side ; to hear his voice earnestly consecrat- 
 ing their lives to the service of Jesus Christ. 
 
 She knew from the tremor in his tone, and the tears in 
 his eyes, that his dedication was complete ; and now to be 
 his companion through all the remaining years of their 
 earthly pilgrimage, to be allowed to help him and love him, 
 to walk heavenward with her hand in his ; this — this was 
 the crowning glory and richest blessing of her life. 
 
 When his prayer ended, she laid her head down on the 
 altar-railing, and sobbed like a child. 
 
 In the orange glow of a wintry sunset, they came out and 
 sat down on the steps, while a pair of spotless white pigeons 
 perched on the blood-stain ; and Mr. Murray put his arm 
 around Edna, and drew her face to his bosom. 
 
 " Darling, do you remember that once, in the dark days 
 of my reckless sinfulness, I asked you one night, in the lib- 
 rary at Le Bocage, if you had no faith in me ? And you 
 repeated so vehemently, ' None, Mr. Murray !' " 
 
 " O sir ! do not think of it. Why recur to what is so 
 painful and so long past ? Forgive those words and for- 
 get them ! Never was more implicit faith, more devoted 
 affection, given to any human being than I give now to 
 you, Mr. Murray ; you, who are my first and my last and 
 my only love." 
 
 She felt his arm tighten around her waist, and his tears 
 fell on her forehead, as he bowed his face to hers. 
 
 "Forgive? Ah my darling ! do you recollect also that I 
 
570 ST. ELMO. 
 
 tcld you then that the time would come when ycur deal 
 lips would ask pardon for what they ottered that night, and 
 that when that hour arrived I would take my revenge? 
 My wife ! my pure, noble, beautiful wife ! give me my re- 
 venge, for I cry with the long-banished Roman : 
 
 ' Oh. 1 a kiss — long as my exile, 
 Sweet as my revenge 1' " 
 
 He put his hand under her chin, drew the lips to his, and 
 kissed them repeatedly. 
 
 Down among the graves, in the brown grass and withered 
 leaves, behind a tall shaft, around which coiled a carved 
 marble serpent with hooded head — there, amid the dead, 
 crouched a woman's figure, with a stony, gray, Gorgonian 
 face, and writhing lips, and blue chatoyant eyes, that glar- 
 ed with murderous hate at the sweet holy countenance of 
 the happy bride. When St. Elmo tenderly kissed the pure 
 lips of his wife, Agnes Powell smothered a savage cry, and 
 Nemesis was satisfied as the wretched woman fell forward 
 on the grass, sweeping her yellow hair over her eyes, to 
 shut out the vision that maddened her. 
 
 Then and there, for the first time, as she sat enfolded by 
 her husband's arm, Edna felt that she could thank him for 
 the monument erected over her grandfather's grave. 
 
 The light faded slowly in the west, the pigeons ceased their 
 fluttering about the belfry, and as he turned to quit the 
 church, so dear to both, Mr. Murray stretched his hand 
 toward the ivy-clad vault, and said solemnly : 
 
 " I throw all mournful years behind me ; and, by the 
 grace of God, our new lives, commencing this hallowed 
 day, shall make noble amends for the wasted past. Loving 
 eacli other, aiding each other, serving Christ, through 
 whose atonement alone, I have been saved from eternal 
 ruin. To Thy merciful guidance, O Father ! we commit oui 
 future." 
 
ST. ELMO. 571 
 
 Edna looked reverently up at his beaming countenance, 
 whence the shadows of hate and scorn had long since pass- 
 ed ; and, as his splendid eyes came back to hers, reading 
 in her beautiful, pure face all her love and confidence and 
 happy hope, he drew her closer to bis bosom, and laid his 
 dark cheek on hers, saying fondly and proudly : 
 
 " My wife, my life. Oh ! we will walk this world, 
 Yoked in all exercise of noble end, 
 And so through those dark gates across the wild 
 That no man knows. My hopes and thine are one 
 Accomplish thou my manhood, and thyself, 
 Lay thy sweet hands in mine and trust to me " 
 

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 do. 
 do. 
 do. 
 do. 
 do. 
 do. 
 do. 
 
 fr.50 
 $1 50 
 
 $150 
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 $1.50 
 
 woman, our angel. — Just published. 
 
 Richard 115. Kimball. 
 was he successful. — A novel. i2mo. cloth, $1-75 
 
 UNDERCURRENTS. do. . . do. $1-75 
 
 SAINT LEGER. do. . . do. $1-75 
 
 ROMANCE OF STUDENT LIFE. do. . . do. $1-75 
 
 IN THE TROPICS. do. . . do. $1-75 
 
 THE PRINCE OF KASHNA. do. . . do. $1-75 
 
 emilie. — A sequel to " St. Leger." hi press. do. $1.75 
 
 Orpheus C. Kerr. 
 the orpheus c kerr papers. — Comic letters and humorous 
 military criticisms. Three series. i2mo. cloth, $1.50 
 
 avert glib un. — A powerful new novel. — In press. 
 
 Josh Billings. 
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 Tli os. A. ©a vies. 
 how to make monet, and how to keep it. — A practical and 
 valuable book that every one should have. i2mo. clo., $1.50 
 T. S. Arthur's New Works. 
 A novel, 
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 our neighbors. — Just published. 
 
 Robinson Crusoe. 
 A handsome illustrated edition, complete. 
 
 Joseph Rodman Drake. 
 the culprit fat. — A faery poem. . i2mo. cloth, $1 2j 
 AN illustrated edition. — With 100 exquisite illustrations 00 
 wood. . . Quarto, beautifully printed and bound, $5.00 
 
 Algernon Charles Swinburne. 
 
 laus veneris — and other Poems and Ballads. 1 2mo. cloth. $1.75 
 
 light on shadowed paths.- 
 
 out in the world. 
 
 nothing but monet. 
 
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LIST OF BOOKS PVBL1SHWD 
 
 Cuthbert Rede. 
 
 verdant green. — A rollicking, humorous novel of English stu- 
 dent life ; with 200 comic illustrations. i2mo. cloth, $1.50 
 Private Miles O'Reilly. 
 
 BAKED MEATS OF THE FUNERAL. — A COmic book. I2mO. cloth, $1-7$ 
 
 life and adventures — with comic illustrations, do. $1.50 
 M. Michelet's Remarkable Works. 
 
 love (l' amour). — From the French. . . i2mo. cloth, $1.50 
 woman (la femme).— do. . . . do. ' $1.50 
 
 J. Sheridan l^e Fanu. 
 
 wylder's hand. — A powerful new novel. i2mo. cloth, $1.75 
 
 THE HOUSE BY THE CHURCHYARD. do. do. $1.75 
 
 Rev. JobH Cumming, D.D., of London. 
 
 THE GREAT TRIBULATION. Two Series. I2Q10. cloth, $1.50 
 
 THE GREAT PREPARATION. — do. . do. $1-50 
 
 THE GREAT CONSUMMATION. — do. . do. $I.?0 
 
 THE LAST WARNING CRY. . do. $1.50 
 
 Ernest Kenan. 
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 THE APOSTLES. — do. do. $h7S 
 
 Popular Italian Novels. 
 
 doctor antonio. — A love story. ByRuffini. i2mo. cloth, $1.75 
 vincenzo. — do. do. do. $1.75 
 
 Beatrice cenci. — By Guerrazzi, with portrait. do. $i-75 
 
 Charles Reade. 
 
 the cloister and the hearth. — A magnificent new novel — 
 
 the best this author ever wrote. . . 8vo. cloth, $2.00 
 
 The Opera. 
 
 tales from the operas. — A collection of clever stories, based 
 
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 Robert R. Roosevelt. 
 
 the game-fish of the north. — Illustrated. i2mo. cloth, $2.00 
 superior fishing. — do. do. $2.00 
 
 THE GAME-BIRDS OF THE NORTH. do. $2.00 
 
 John Phoenix. 
 
 he squibob papers. — A new humorous volume, filled with 
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 Matthew Hale Smith. 
 
 mount calvary. — Meditations in sacred places. i2mo. $2.00 
 
 P. T. Barnaul. 
 the humbugs of the world. — Two series. i2mo. cloth, $1.75 
 

 
£^f€ 
 

 
 RARE BOOK 
 COLLECTION 
 
 This book is due at tl 
 last date stamped un 
 renewed by bringing 
 
 THE LIBRARY OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 
 NORTH CAROLINA 
 
 AT 
 
 CHAPEL HILL 
 
 PS3332 
 
 .S7 
 
 1867 
 
 DATE R 
 DUE 
 
 M16 17 1 
 
 
 3SL 1 
 
 
 
 111 ' 
 
 JL 
 
 i 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 I 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 I n No 513