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 PREFACE. 
 
 If it be true, as some have said, that a secret is safer 
 in a preface than elsewhere, it would be worse than 
 folly for me to waste the "midnight oil," in the manu- 
 facture of an article which no one would read, and 
 which would serve no purpose, save the adding of a 
 page or so to a volume perhaps already too large. But I 
 do not think so. I wot of a few who, with a horror of 
 anything savoring of humbug, wade industriously 
 through a preface, be it never so lengthy, hoping therein 
 to find the moral, without which the story would, of 
 course, be valueless. To such I would say, seek no 
 further, for though I claim for " 'Lena Rivers," amoral 
 ■ — yes, half a dozen morals, if you please — I shall not 
 put them in the preface, as I prefer having them 
 sought after, for what I have written I wish to have 
 read. 
 
 Reared among the rugged hills of the Bay State, and 
 for a time constantly associated with a class of people 
 known the wide world over as Yankees, it is no more 
 than natural that I should often write of the places and 
 scenes with which I have been the most familiar. In 
 my delineations of New England character I have aimed 
 r*to copy from memory, and in no one instance I believe, 
 ^have I overdrawn the picture; for among the New 
 °^ England mountains there lives many a "Grandma 
 v Nichols," a "Joel Slocum," or a "Nancy Scovandyke," 
 
 r v^ 
 
IV PREFACE. 
 
 while the wide world holds more than one 'iena, with 
 her high temper, extreme beauty, and rare combination 
 of those qualities which make the female character so 
 lovely. 
 
 Nearly the same remarks will also apply to my por- 
 traitures of Kentucky life and character, for it has been 
 my good fortune to spend a year and a half in that 
 State; and in my descriptions of country scenes and 
 country life, I have with a few exceptions copied from 
 what I saw. Mrs. Livingstone and Mrs. (xraham are 
 characters found everywhere, while the impulsive John 
 Jr. and the generous-hearted Durward, represent a 
 class of individuals who belong more exclusively to the 
 "sunny South." 
 
 2 have endeavored to make this book both a good and 
 an interesting one, and if I have failed in my attempt, 
 it is too late to remedy it now ; and, such as it is, I give 
 it to the world, trusting that the same favor and for- 
 bearance which have been awarded to my other works, 
 will also be extended to this. 
 
 M. J. H. 
 
 Brockport, No Y. October, 1856, 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER L wm* 
 
 , c..'... .... f 
 
 CHAPTER IL 
 
 Joltf!................ . COCO.,... 14 
 
 CHAPTER IIL 
 Packing Up. , . 94 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 On the Road. . 81 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 Grove c o 46 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 The Arrival,. 67 
 
 CHAPTER VIL 
 Malcolm Everett 79 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 Scheming... 66 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 Five Years Later. 104 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 Mr. and Mrs. Graham... .. 123 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 Woodlawn.. 143 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 Mrs. Graham at Home....... 155 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 Mabel, 176 
 
▼I CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV, 
 Nellie and Mabel. . . . , , •..•.u.. 186 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 Mrs. Livingstone's Calls, and their Result. . . . , ...i..,,,,,,,,, 193 
 
 CHAPTER XVL 
 Christmas Gifts . . , . . . , , - « .. -, .. . . „. . . . 202 
 
 CHAPTER XVIL 
 Frankfort, o 208 
 
 CHAPTER XVIIL 
 The Departure. ...... e . .... . . . 216 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 The Visit . > ........................ 223 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 A Father's Love . . 233 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 Joel Slocum . . . 240 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 The Daguerreotype. 249 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 The Letter and Its Effect. .............. ^ .......... .....o.... . 2§B 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 John Jr. and Mabel. .......................... .„ „ „ <....« ..... 273 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 The Bridal.. . 282 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 Married Life ................... ...... .............. . 289 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 The Shadow. 303 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII, 
 Mrs. Graham's Return... ..... o...... 817 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 Anna and Captain Atherton ,», v< 323 
 
 CHAPTER XXX, 
 The Result. ........"..»... 341 
 
CONTENTS. Vll 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. PAGK 
 
 More Clouds...... . 350 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 Reaction 357 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 The Wanderer 362 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 Lena's Father 37ft 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 Excitement at Maple Grove 399 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 Arrival at Woodlawn - 406 
 
 .CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 Durward 414 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 Conclusion. .............. 423 
 
•LENA RIVERS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 'LENA. 
 
 For many days the storm continued. Highways 
 were blocked up, while roads less frequented were ren- 
 dered wholly impassable. The oldest inhabitants of 
 Oakland had "never seen the like before," and they 
 shook their gray heads ominously as over and adown 
 the New England mountains the howling wind swept 
 furiously, now shrieking exultingly as one by one the 
 huge forest trees bent before its power, and again 
 dying away in a low, sad wail, as it shook the casement 
 of some low-roofed cottage, where the blazing fire, 
 "high piled upon the hearth," danced merrily to the 
 sound of the storm-wind, and then whirling in fantas- 
 tic circles, disappeared up the broad mouthed chimney. 
 
 For nearly a week there was scarcely a sign of life in 
 the streets of Oakland, but at the end of that time the 
 storm abated, and the December sun, emerging from 
 its dark hiding place, once more looked smilingly down 
 upon the white, untrodden snow, which covered the 
 earth for miles and miles around, Eapidly the roads 
 were broken ; paths were made on the narrow sidewalk, 
 and then the villagers bethought themselves of their 
 mountain neighbors, who might perchance have suffered 
 from the severity of the storm. Far up the mountain 
 side in an old yellow farmhouse, which had withstood 
 the blasts of many a winter, lived Grandfather and 
 
8 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 Grandmother Nichols, as they were familiarly called, 
 and ere the sun-setting, arrangements were made for 
 paying them a visit. 
 
 Oakland was a small rural village, nestled among 
 rocky hills, where the word fashion was seldom heard, 
 and where many of the primitive customs of our fore- 
 fathers stiT ! pre^iled. Consequently, nsither the 
 buxom maidens, nor Vie hale old matrons, felt in the 
 least disgraced as the ; piled promiscuously upon the 
 four-ox sled, which ere long was moving slowly through 
 the mammoth drifts which lay upon the mountain road. 
 As they drew near the farmhouse, they noticed that the 
 blue paper curtains which shaded the windows of 
 Grandma Nichols' "spare room," were rolled up, while 
 the faint glimmer of a tallow candle within, indicated 
 that the room possessed an occupant. Who could it be? 
 Possibly it was John, the proud man, who lived in 
 Kentucky, and who, to please his wealthy bride, ex- 
 changed the plebeian name of Nichols, for that of Liv- 
 ingstone, which his high-born lady fancied was more 
 aristocratic in its sounding ! 
 
 "And if it be John," said the passengers of the ox 
 sled, with whom that gentleman was no great favorite, 
 "if it be John, well take ourselves home as fast as ever 
 we can." 
 
 Satisfied with this resolution, they kept on their way, 
 until they reached the wide gateway, where they were 
 met by Mr. Nichols, whose greeting they fancied was 
 less cordial than usual. With a simple "how d'ye do," 
 lie led the way into the spacious kitchen, which an- 
 swered the treble purpose of dining room, sitting room, 
 and cook room. Grandma Nichols, too, appeared some- 
 what disturbed, but she met her visitors with an air 
 which seemed to say, she was determined to make the 
 best of her trouble, whatever it might be. 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 3 
 
 The door of the "spare room" was slightly ajar, and 
 while the visitors were disrobing, one young girl, more 
 curious than the rest, peered cautiously in, exclaiming 
 as she did so, "Mother! mother! Helena is in there on 
 the bed, pale as a ghost. " 
 
 "Yes, Heleny is in there," interrupted Grandma 
 Nichols, who overheard the girl's remark, "She got 
 hum the fust night of the storm, and what's queerer 
 than all, she's been married better than a year." 
 
 "Married! Married! Helena married! Who to? 
 Where's her husband?" asked a dozen voices in the 
 same breath. 
 
 Grandfather Nichols groaned as if in pain, and his 
 wife, glancing anxiously toward the door of her daugh- 
 ter's room, said in reply to the last question, "That's 
 the worst on't. He was some grand rascal, who lived 
 at the suthard, and come up here to see what he could 
 do. He thought Heleny was handsome, I s'pose, and 
 married her, making her keep it still because his folks 
 in Car'lina wouldn't like it„ Of course he got sick of 
 her, and jest afore the baby was born he gin her five 
 hundred dollars and left her." 
 
 A murmur of surprise ran round the room, accom- 
 panied with a look of incredulity, which Grandma 
 Nichols quicklv divined, and, while her withered cheek 
 crimsoned at the implied disgrace, she added in an ele- 
 vated tone of voice, "It's true as the Bible. Old Father 
 Blanchard's son, that used to preach here, married 
 them, and Heleny brought us a letter from him, saying 
 it was true. Here 'tis — read it yourselves, if you don't 
 blieve me ;" and she drew from a side drawer a letter, 
 on the back of which the villagers recognized the well- 
 remembered handwriting of their former pastor. 
 
 This proof of Helena's innocence was hardly relished 
 by the clever gossips of Oakland, for the young girl, 
 
20 'LENA RIVERS, 
 
 though kind-hearted and gentle, was far too beautiful 
 to be a general favorite c Mothers saw in her a rival 
 for their daughters, while the daughters looked enviously 
 upon her clear white brow, and shining chestnut hair, 
 which fell in wavy curls about her neck and shoulders. 
 Two years before our story opens, she had left her 
 mountain home to try the mysteries of millinery in the 
 city, where a distant relative of her mother was living. 
 Here her uncommon beauty attracted much attention, 
 drawing erelong to her side a wealthy young southerner, 
 who, just freed from the restraints of college life, found 
 it vastly agreeable making love to the fair Helena. 
 Simple-minded, and wholly unused to the ways of the 
 world, she believed each word he said, and when at last 
 he proposed marriage, she not only consented, but also 
 promised to keep it a secret for a time, until he could in 
 a measure reconcile his father, who he feared might dis- 
 inherit him for wedding a penniless bride. 
 
 "Wait, darling, until he knows you," said he, "and 
 then he will gladly welcome you as his daughter. " 
 
 Accordingly, one dark, wintry night, when neither 
 moon ncr stars were visible, Helena stole softly from 
 her quiet room at Mrs. Warren's, and in less than an 
 hour was the lawful bride of Harry Rivers, the wife of 
 the clergyman alone witnessing the ceremony, 
 
 "I wish I could take you home at once," said young 
 Rivers, who was less a rascal than a coward; "I wish 
 I could take you home at once, but it cannot be. We 
 must wait awhile. " 
 
 So Helena went back to Mrs. Warren's, where for a 
 few weeks she stayed, and then, saying she was going 
 home, she left and became the mistress of a neat little 
 cottage which stood a mile or two from the city. Here 
 for several months young Rivers devoted himself en- 
 tirely to her happiness, seeming to forget that there 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 11 
 
 was aught else in the world save his "beautiful 'Lena," 
 as he was wont to call her. But at last there came a 
 change. Harry seemed sad, absent-minded, though 
 ever kind to Helena, who strove in vain to learn the 
 cause of his uneasiness. 
 
 One morning when, later than usual, she awoke, she 
 missed him from her side ; and on the table near her lay 
 a letter containing the following : 
 
 "Forgive me, darling, that I leave you so abruptly. 
 Circumstances render it necessary, but be assured, I 
 shall come back again. In the meantime you had bet- 
 ter return to your parents, where I will seek you. In- 
 closed are five hundred dollars, enough for your present 
 need. Farewell. 
 
 "H. Rivers." 
 
 There was one bitter cry of hopeless anguish, and 
 when Helena Rivers again awoke to perfect conscious- 
 ness, she lay*in a darkened room, soft footsteps passed 
 in and out, kind faces, in which were mingled pity and 
 reproach, bent anxiously over her, while at her side lay 
 a little tender thing, her infant daughter, three weeks 
 old. And now there arose within her a strong desire to 
 see once more her childhood's home, to lay her aching 
 head upon her mother's lap, and pour out the tale of 
 grief which was crushing the life from out her young 
 heart. 
 
 As soon, therefore, as her health would permit, she 
 started for Oakland, taking the precaution to procure 
 from the clergyman, who had married her, a letter con- 
 firming the fact. Wretched and weary she reached her 
 home at the dusk of evening, and with a bitter cry fell 
 fainting in the arms of her mother, who, having heard 
 regularly from her, never dreamed that she was else- 
 where than in the employ of Mrs„ Warren. With 
 
12 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 streaming eyes and trembling hands the old man and 
 his wife made ready the spare room for the wanderer, 
 more than once blessing the fearful storm which for a 
 time, at least, would keep away the prying eyes of those 
 who, they feared, would hardly credit their daughter's 
 story. 
 
 And their fears were right, for many of those who 
 visited them on the night of which we have spoken, 
 disbelieved the tale, mentally pronouncing the clergy- 
 man's letter a forgery, got up by Helena to deceive her 
 parents. Consequently, of the few who from time to 
 time came to the old farmhouse, nearly all were actu- 
 ated by motives of curiosity, rather than by feelings of 
 pity for the young girl-mother, who, though feeling 
 their neglect, scarcely heeded it. Strong in the knowl- 
 edge of her own innocence, she lay, day after day, 
 watching and waiting for one who never came. But 
 at last, as days glided into weeks, and weeks into 
 months, hope died away, and turning wearily upon her 
 pillow, she prayed that she might die; and when the 
 days grew bright and gladsome in the warm spring sun, 
 when the snow was melted from off the mountain tops 
 and the first robin's note was heard by the farm-house 
 door, Helena laid her baby on her mother's bosom, and 
 without a murmur glided down the dark, broad river, 
 whose deep waters move onward and onward, but never 
 return. 
 
 When it was known in Oakland that Helena was 
 dead, there came a reaction, and those who had been 
 loudest in their condemnation, were now the first to 
 hasten forward with offers of kindness and words of 
 sympathy. But neither tears nor regrets could recall 
 to life the fair young girl, who, wondrously beautiful 
 even in death, slept calmly in her narrow coffin, a smile 
 of sadness wreathing her lips, as if her last prayer had 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 13 
 
 been for one who had robbed her thus early of happi- 
 ness and life. In the bright green valley at the foot of 
 the mountain, they buried her, and the old father, as he 
 saw the damp earth fall upon her grave, asked that he 
 too might die. But his wife, younger by several years, 
 prayed to live — live that she might protect and care 
 for the little orphan, who first by its young mother's 
 tears, and again by the waters of the baptismal foun- 
 tain, was christened Helena Rivers; the 'Lena of 
 our story. 
 
14 XENA RIVERS. 
 
 CHAPTER IL 
 
 JOHN 
 
 Ten years of sunlight and shadow have passed away, 
 and the little grave at the foot of the mountain is now 
 grass-grown and sunken. Ten times have the snows of 
 winter fallen upon the hoary head of Grandfather 
 Nichols, bleaching his thin locks to their own whiteness 
 and bending his sturdy frame, until now, the old man 
 lay dying — dying in the same blue-curtained room, 
 where years agone his only daughter was born, and 
 where ten years before she had died. Carefully did 
 Mrs. Nichols nurse him, watching, weeping, and pray- 
 ing that he might live, while little 'Lena gladly shared 
 her grandmother's vigils, hovering ever by the bedside 
 of her grandfather, who seemed more quiet when her 
 soft hand smoothed his tangled hair, or wiped the cold 
 moisture from his brow. The villagers, too, remember- 
 ing their neglect, when once before death had brooded 
 over the mountain farmhouse, now daily came with 
 offers of assistance. 
 
 But one thing still was wanting. John, their only 
 remaining child, was absent, and the sick man's heart 
 grew sad and his eyes dim with tears, as day by day 
 went by and still he did not come. Several times had 
 'Lena written to her uncle apprising him of his father's 
 danger and once only had he answered. It was a brief, 
 formal letter written, evidently, under some constraint, 
 but it said that he was coming, and with childish Joy 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 15 
 
 the old man had placed it beneath his pillow, withdraw- 
 ing it occasionally for 'Lena to read again, particularly 
 the passage, "Dear father, I am sorry you are sick." 
 
 "Heaven bless him ! I know he's sorry," Mr. Nichols 
 would say. "He was always a good boy — is a good 
 boy now. Ain't he, Martha?" 
 
 And mother-like, Mrs. Nichols would answer, "Yes," 
 forcing back the while the tears which would start 
 when she thought how long the "good boy" had 
 neglected them, eighteen years having elapsed since he 
 had crossed the threshold of his home. 
 
 "With his hand plighted to one of the village maidens, 
 he had left Oakland to seek his fortune, going first to 
 New York, then to Ohio, and finally wending his way 
 southward, to Kentucky. Here he remained, readily 
 falling into the luxurious habits of those around him, 
 and gradually forgetting the low-roofed farmhouse far 
 away to the northward, where dwelt a gray-haired pair 
 and a beautiful young girl, his parents and his sister. 
 She to whom his vows were plighted was neither grace- 
 ful nor cultivated, and when, occasionally, her tall, 
 spare figure and uncouth manners arose before him, in 
 contrast with the fair forms around him, he smiled de- 
 risively at the thoughts of making her his wife. 
 
 About this time there came from New Orleans a 
 wealthy invalid, with his only daughter, Matilda. She 
 was a proud, haughty girl, whose disposition, natur- 
 ally unamiable, was rendered still worse by a disap- 
 pointment from which she was suffering. Accidentally 
 Mr. Richards, her father, made the acquaintance of 
 John Nichols, conceiving for him a violent fancy, and 
 finally securing him as a constant companion. For 
 several weeks John appeared utterly oblivious to the 
 presence of Matilda, who, accustomed to adulation, be- 
 gan at last to feel piqued at his neglect, and to strive in 
 aoany ways to attract his attention* 
 
16 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 John, who was ambitious, met her advances more 
 than half-way, and finally, encouraged by her father, 
 offered her his heart and hand. Under other ciroum- 
 stances, Matilda would undoubtedly have spurned him 
 with contempt; but having heard that her recreant 
 lover was about taking to himself a bride, she felt a 
 desire, as she expressed it, "to let him know she could 
 marry, too. " Accordingly, John was accepted, on con- 
 dition that he changed the name of Nichols, which Miss 
 Richards particularly disliked, to that of Livingstone. 
 This was easily done, and the next letter which went to 
 Oakland carried the news of John's marriage with the 
 proud Matilda. 
 
 A few months later and Mr. Richards died, leaving 
 his 'entire property to his daughter and her husband. 
 John was now richer far than even in his wildest 
 dreams he had ever hoped to be, and yet, like many 
 others, he found that riches alone could not insure hap- 
 piness. And, indeed, to be happy with Matilda Rich- 
 ards, seemed impossible. Proud, avaricious, and over- 
 bearing, she continually taunted her husband with his 
 entire dependence upon her, carefully watching him, 
 lest any of her hoarded wealth should find its way to 
 the scanty purse of his parents, of whom she always 
 spoke with contempt. 
 
 Never but once had they asked for aid, and that to 
 help them rear the little 'Lena. Influenced by his wife, 
 John replied sneeringly, scouting the idea of Helena's 
 marriage, denouncing her as his sister, and saying of 
 her child, that the poor-house stood ready for such as 
 she ! This letter 'Lena had accidentally found among 
 her grandfather's papers, and though its contents gave 
 her no definite impression concerning her mother, it in- 
 spired her with a dislike for her uncle, whose coming 
 she greatly dreaded, for it was confidently expected 
 
'LENA RIVERS. IT 
 
 that she, together with her grandmother, would return 
 with him to Kentucky. 
 
 "You'll be better off there than here," said her grand- 
 father one day, when speaking of the subject. "Your 
 Uncle John is rich, and you'll grow up a fine lady. " 
 
 "I don't want to be a lady — I won't be a lady," said 
 'Lena passionately. "I don't like Uncle John. He 
 called my mother a bad woman and me a little brat ! 
 I hate him !" and the beautiful brown eyes, glittering 
 with tears, flashed forth their anger quite as eloquently 
 as language could express it. 
 
 The next moment 'Lena was bending over her grand- 
 father, asking to be forgiven for the hasty words which 
 she knew had caused him pain Cl I'll try to like him," 
 said she, as the palsied hand stroked her disordered 
 curls in token of forgiveness, "I'll try to like him;" 
 adding mentally, "but I do hope he won't come." 
 
 It would seem that 'Lena's wish was to be granted, 
 for weeks glided by and there came no tidings of the 
 absent one. Daily Mr. Nichols grew weaker, and when 
 there was no longer hope of life, his heart yearned more 
 and more to once more behold his son; to hear again, 
 ere he died, the blessed name of father. 
 
 " 'Lena," said Mrs. Nichols one afternoon when her 
 husband seemed worse, " 'Lena, it's time for the stage, 
 and do you run down to the 'turn' and see if your 
 uncle's come ; something tells me he'll be here to-night. " 
 
 'Lena obeyed, and throwing on her faded calico sun- 
 bonnet, she was soon at the "turn," a point in the road 
 from which the village hotel was plainly discernible. 
 The stage had just arrived, and 'Lena saw that one of 
 the passengers evidently intended stopping, for he 
 seemed to be giving directions concerning his baggage. 
 
 "That's Uncle John, I most know, " thought she, and 
 seating herself on a rock beneath some white birches, 
 
»S 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 80 common in New England, she awaited his approach, 
 She was right in her conjecture, for the stranger was 
 John Livingstone, returned after many years, but so 
 changed that the jolly landlord, who had known hisa 
 when a boy, and with whom he had cracked many a 
 joke, now hardly dared to address him, he seemed so 
 cold and haughty. 
 
 "I will leave my trunk here for a few days," said 
 John, "and perhaps I shall wish for a room. Got any 
 decent accommodations?" 
 
 "Wonder if he don't calculate to sleep hum, "thought 
 the landlord, replying at the same instant, "Yes, sir, 
 tip-top accommodations. Hain't more'n tew beds in 
 ary room, and now-a-days we allers has a wash-bowl 
 and pitcher ; don't go to the sink as we used to when 
 you lived round here. " 
 
 With a gesture of impatience Mr. Livingstone left 
 the house and started up the mountain road, where 
 'Lena still kept her watch. Oh, how that walk recalled 
 to him the memories of other days, which came throng- 
 ing about him as one by one familiar way-marks ap- 
 peared, reminding him of his childhood, when he 
 roamed over that mountain-side with those who were 
 now scattered far and wide, some on the deep, blue sea, 
 some at the distant West, and others far away across 
 the dark river of death. He had mingled much with 
 the world since last he had traversed that road, and his 
 heart had grown callous and indifferent, but he was not 
 entirely hardened, and when at the "turn" in the road, 
 he came suddenly upon the tall walnut tree, on whose 
 shaggy bark his name was carved, together with that 
 of another — a maiden — he started as if smitten with a 
 heavy blow, and dashing a tear from his eye he ex- 
 claimed, "Oh, that I were a boy again." 
 
 From her seat on the mossy rock 'Lena had been 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 19 
 
 watching him. She was very ardent and impulsive, 
 strong in her likes and dislikes, but quite ready to 
 change the latter if she saw any indications of improve- 
 ment in the person disliked. For her uncle she had 
 conceived a great aversion, and when she saw him ap- 
 proaching, thrusting aside the thistles and dandelions 
 with his gold headed cane, she mimicked his motions, 
 wondering "if he didn't feel big because he wore a large 
 gold chain dangling from his jacket pocket." 
 
 But when she saw his emotions beneath the walnut 
 tree, her opinion suddenly changed. "A very bad man 
 wouldn't cry," she thought, and springing to his side, 
 she grasped his hand, exclaiming, "I know you are my 
 Uncle John, and I'm real glad you've come. Granny 
 thought you never would, and grandpa asks for you all 
 the time. " 
 
 Had his buried sister arisen before him, Mr. Living- 
 stone would hardly have been more startled, for in form 
 and feature 'Lena was exactly what her mother had 
 been at her age. The same clear complexion, large 
 brown eyes, and wavy hair; and the tones of her voice, 
 too, how they thrilled the heart of the strong man, 
 making him a boy again, guiding the steps of his baby 
 sister, or bearing her gently in his arms when the path 
 was steep and stony. It was but a moment, however, 
 and then the vision faded. His sister was dead, and 
 the little girl before him was her child — the child of 
 shame he believed, or rather, his wife had said it so 
 often that he began to believe it. Glancing at the old- 
 womanish garb in which Mrs. Nichols always arrayed 
 her, a smile of mingled scorn and pity curled his lip, as 
 he thought of presenting her to his fastidious wife and 
 elegant daughters; then withdrawing the hand which 
 she had taken, he said, "And you are 'Lena — 'Lena 
 Nichols they call you, I suppose.'* 
 
20 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 'Lena's old dislike began to return, and placing both 
 hands upon her hips in imitation of her grandmother, 
 she replied, "No, 'tain't 'Lena Nichols, neither. It's 
 Lena Rivers. Granny says so, and the town dark has 
 got it so on his book. How are my cousins? Are they 
 pretty well? And how is Ant?" 
 
 Mr. Livingstone winced, at the same time feeling 
 amused at this little specimen of Yankeeism, in which 
 he saw so much of his mother. Poor little 'Lena ! how 
 should she know any better, living as she always had 
 with two old people, whose language savored so much 
 of the days before the flood ! Some such thought passed 
 through Mr. Livingstone's mind, and very civilly he 
 answered her concerning the health of her cousins and 
 aunt ; proceeding next to question her of his father, who, 
 she said, "had never seen a well day since her mother 
 died." 
 
 "Is there any one with him except your grand- 
 mother?" asked Mr. Livingstone; and 'Lena replied, 
 "Aunt Nancy Scovandyke has been with us a few days, 
 and is there now. " 
 
 At the sound of that name John started, coloring so 
 deeply that 'Lena observed it, and asked "if he knew 
 Miss Scovandyke?" 
 
 "I used to," said he, while 'Lena continued: "She's 
 a nice woman, and though she ain't any connection, I 
 call her aunt. Granny thinks a sight of her." 
 
 Miss Scovandyke was evidently an unpleasant topic 
 for Mr. Livingstone, and changing the subject, he said, 
 "What makes you say Granny, child?" 
 
 'Lena blushed painfully. 'Twas the first word she 
 had ever uttered, her grandmother having taught it to 
 her, and encouraged her in its use. Besides that, 'Lena 
 had a great horror of anything which she fancied was 
 at all "stuck up," and thinking an entire change from 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 21 
 
 granny to grandmother would be altogether too much, 
 she still persisted in occasionally using her favorite 
 word, in spite of the ridicule it frequently called forth 
 from her school companions. Thinking to herself that 
 it was none of her uncle's business what she called her 
 grandmother, she made no reply, and in a few moments 
 they came in sight of the yellow farmhouse, which 
 looked to Mr. Livingstone just as it did when he left it, 
 eighteen years before. There was the tall poplar, with 
 its green leaves rustling in the breeze, just as they had 
 done years ago, when from a distant hill-top he looked 
 back to catch the last glimpse of his home. The well 
 in the rear was the same — the lilac bushes in front — the 
 tansy patch on the right and the gable-roofed barn on 
 the left ; all were there ; nothing was changed but him- 
 self. 
 
 Mechanically he followed 'Lena into the yard, half 
 expecting to see bleaching upon the grass the same web 
 of home-made cloth, which he remembered had lain 
 there when he went away. One thing alone seemed 
 strange. The blue paper curtains were rolled away 
 from the "spare room" windows, which were open as if 
 to admit as much air as possible. 
 
 "I shouldn't wonder if grandpa was worse," said 
 'Lena, hurrying him along and ushering him at once 
 into the sick room. 
 
 At first Mrs. Nichols did not observe him, for ohe was 
 bending tenderly over the white, wrinkled face, which 
 lay upon the small, scanty pillow. John thought "how 
 small and scanty they were, " while he almost shuddered 
 at the sound of his footsteps upon the uncarpeted floor. 
 Everything was dreary and comfortless, and his con- 
 science reproached him that his old father should die so 
 poor, when he counted his money by thousands. 
 
 As he passed the window his tall figure obscured the 
 
22 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 fading daylight, causing his mother to raise her head, 
 and in a moment her long, bony arms were twined 
 around his neck. The cruel letter, his long neglect, 
 were all forgotten in the joy of once more beholding her 
 "darling boy," whose bearded cheek she kissed again 
 and again. John was unused to such demonstrations 
 of affection, except, indeed, from his little golden-haired 
 Anna, who was refined and polished, and all that, 
 which made a vast difference, as he thought. Still, he 
 returned his mother's greeting with a tolerably good 
 grace, managing, however, to tear himself from her as 
 soon as possible. 
 
 "How is my father?" he asked; and his mother re- 
 plied, "He grew worse right away after 'Leny went 
 out, and he seemed so put to't for breath that Nancy 
 went for the doctor " 
 
 Here a movement from the invalid arrested her atten- 
 tion, and going to the bedside she saw that he was 
 awake. Bending over him she whispered softly, "John 
 has come. Would you like to see him?" 
 
 Quickly the feeble arms were outstretched, as if to 
 feel what could not be seen, for the old man's eyesight 
 was dim with the shadows of death. 
 
 Taking both his father's hands in his, John said, 
 "Here I am, father; can't you see me?" 
 
 "No, John, no; I can't see you." And the poormaD 
 wept like a little child. Soon growing more calm, he 
 continued: "Your voice is the same that it was years 
 ago, when you lived with us at home. That hasn't 
 changed, though they say your name has. Oh, John, 
 my boy, how could you do so? 'Twas a good name — 
 my name — and you the only one left to bear it. What 
 made you do so, oh, John, John?" 
 
 Mr. Livingstone did not reply, and after a moment 
 his father o,gain spoke: "John, lay your hand on my 
 
*.ENA RIVERS. 23 
 
 forehead. It's cold as ice. I am dying, and your 
 mother will be left alone. We are poor, my son; poorer 
 than you think. The homestead is mortgaged for all 
 it's worth, and there are only a few dollars in the purse. 
 Oh, I worked so hard to earn them for her and the girl 
 —Helena's child. Now, John, promise me that when 
 [ am gone they shall go with you to your home in the 
 West. Promise, and I shall die happy." 
 
 This was a new idea to John, and for a time he hesi- 
 tated. He glanced at his mother; she was ignorant 
 and peculiar, but she was his mother still. He looked 
 at 'Lena, she was beautiful — he knew that but she was 
 odd and old fashioned. He thought of his haughty 
 wife, his head-strong son and his imperious daughter. 
 What would they say if he made that promise, for if he 
 made it he would keep it. 
 
 A long time his father awaited his answer, and then 
 he spoke again: "Won't you give your old mother* 
 home?" 
 
 The voice was weaker than when it spoke before, and 
 John knew that life was fast ebbing away, for the brow 
 on which his hand was resting was cold and damp with 
 the moisture of death. He could no longer refuse, and 
 the promise was given. 
 
 The next morning, the deep-toned bell of Oakland 
 told that another soul was gone, and the villagers as 
 they counted the three score strokes and ten, knew that 
 Grandfather Nichols was numbered with the dead. 
 
S4 *LENA RIVERS. 
 
 CHAPTER lit 
 
 PACKING UP. 
 
 The funeral was over, and in the quiet valley by the 
 side of his only daughter, Grandfather Nichols was laid 
 to rest. As far as possible his father's business was 
 settled, and then John began to speak of his returning. 
 More than once had he repented of the promise made to 
 his father, and as the time passed on he shrank more 
 and more from introducing his "plebeian" mother to his 
 "lady" wife, who, he knew, was meditating an open 
 rebellion. 
 
 Immediately after his father's death he had written 
 to his wife, telling her all, and trying as far as he was 
 able to smooth matters over, so that his mother might 
 at least have a decent reception. In a violent passion, 
 his wife had answered, that "she never would submit 
 to it — never. When I married you," said she, "I 
 didn't suppose I was marrying the 'old woman', young 
 one, and all ; and as for my having them to maintain I 
 will not ; so Mr. John Nichols you understand it. " 
 
 When Mrs. Livingstone was particularly angry she 
 called her husband Mr. John Nichols, and when Mr. 
 John Nichols was particularly angry, he did as he 
 pleased, so in this case he replied that "he should bring 
 home as many 'old women' and 'young ones,' as he 
 liked, and she might help herself if she could !" 
 
 This state of things was hardly favorable to the 
 future happiness of Grandma Nichols, who, wholly un- 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 25 
 
 suspecting, and deeming herself as good as anybody, 
 never dreamed that her presence would be unwelcome 
 to her daughter-in-law, whom she thought to assist in 
 various ways, "taking perhaps the whole heft of the 
 housework upon herself — though," she added, "I mean 
 to begin just as I can hold out. I've hearn of such 
 things as son's wives shirkin' the whole on to their old 
 mothers, and the minit 'Tilda shows any signs of that, 
 I shall back out, I tell you. " 
 
 John, who overheard this remark, bit his lip with 
 vexation, and then burst into a laugh as he fancied the 
 elegant Mrs. Livingstone's dismay at hearing herself 
 called ' 'Tilda. Had John chosen, he could have given 
 his mother a few useful hints with regard to her treat- 
 ment of his wife, but such an idea never entered his 
 brain. He was a man of few words, and generally 
 allowed himself to be controlled by circumstances, 
 thinking that the easiest way of getting through the 
 world. He was very proud, and keenly felt how morti- 
 fying 'twould be to present his mother to his fashionable 
 acquaintances ; but that was in the future — many miles 
 away — he wouldn't trouble himself about it now ; so he 
 passed his time mostly in rambling through the woods 
 and over the hills, while his mother, good soul, busied 
 herself with the preparations for her journey, inviting 
 each and every one of her neighbors to "be sure and 
 visit her if they ever came that way," and urging some 
 of them to come on purpose and "spend the winter." 
 
 Among those who promised compliance with this last 
 request, was Miss Nancy Scovandyke, whom we have 
 once before mentioned, and who, as the reader will have 
 inferred, was the first love of John Livingstone. On 
 the night of his arrival, she had been sent in quest of 
 the physician, and when on her return she learned from 
 'Lena that he had come, she kept out of sight, thinking 
 
26 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 she would wait awhile before she met him. "Not that 
 she cared the snap of her finger for him," she said, "only 
 'twas natural that she should hate to see him. " 
 
 But when the time did come, she met it bravely, 
 shaking his hand and speaking to him as if nothing had 
 ever happened, and while he was wondering how he 
 ever could have fancied her, she, too, was mentally 
 styling herself "a fool," for having liked "such a, pussy, 
 overgrown thing !" Dearly did Miss Nancy love excite- 
 ment, and during the days that Mrs. Nichols was pack- 
 ing up, she was busy helping her to stow away the 
 "crockery," which the old lady declared should go, par- 
 ticularly the "blue set, which she'd had ever since the 
 day but one before John was born, and which she in- 
 tended as a part of 'Leny's settin' out. Then, too, 
 John's wife could use 'em when she had a good deal of 
 company; 'twould save buyin' new, and every little 
 helped!" 
 
 "I wonder, now, if 'Tilda takes snuff," said Mrs. 
 Nichols, one day, seating herself upon an empty dry 
 goods box which stood in the middle of the floor, and 
 helping herself to an enormous pinch of her favorite 
 Maccaboy; "I wonder if she takes snuff, 'cause if she 
 does, we shall take a sight of comfort together. " 
 
 "I don't much b'lieve she does," answered Misa 
 Nancy, whose face was very red with trying to cram a 
 pair of cracked bellows into the already crowded top oi 
 John's leathern trunk, "I don't b'lieve she does, fo* 
 somehow it seems to me she's a mighty nipped-up thing, 
 not an atom like you nor me. " 
 
 "Like enough," returned Mrs. Nichols, finishing her 
 snuff, and wiping her fingers upon the corner of her 
 checked apron; "but Nancy, can you tell me how in 
 the world I'm ever goin' to carry this mop f It's bran 
 new, never been used above a dozen times, and I can't 
 afford to give it away." 
 
'LENA RIVERS. ;J7 
 
 At this point, John, who was sitting in the adjoining 
 room, came forward. Hitherto he had not interfered 
 in the least in his mother's arrangements, but had 
 looked silently on while she packed away article after 
 article, which she would never need, and which un- 
 doubtedly would be consigned to the flames the moment 
 her back was turned. The mop business, however, 
 was too much for him, and before Miss Nancy had time 
 to reply, he said, "For Heaven's sake, mother, how 
 many traps do you propose taking, and what do you 
 imagine we can do with a mop? Why, I dare say no* 
 one of my servants would know how to use it, and it'u 
 a wonder if some of the little chaps didn't take it for & 
 horse before night. " 
 
 "A nigger ride my mop! my new mop!" exclaimed 
 Mrs. Nichols, rolling up her eyes in astonishment, while 
 Miss Nancy, turning to John, said, "In the name of the 
 people, how do you live without mops? I should s'pose 
 you'd rot alive !" 
 
 "I am not much versed in the mysteries of house- 
 keeping," returned John, with a smile; "but it's my 
 impression that what little cleaning our floors get is 
 done with a cloth." 
 
 "Wall, if I won't give it up now," said Miss Nancy. 
 "As good an abolutionist as you used to be, make the 
 poor colored folks wash the floor with a rag, on their 
 hands and knees ! It can't be that you indulge a hope, 
 if you'll do such things !" 
 
 John made Miss Nancy no answer, but turning to his 
 mother, he said, "I'm in earnest, mother, about your 
 carrying so many useless things. We don't want them. 
 Our house is full now, and besides that, Mrs. Living- 
 stone is very particular about the style of her furniture, 
 and I am afraid yours would hardly come up to her 
 idea of elegance." 
 
28 'LENA RIVERS,. 
 
 "That chist of drawers," said Mrs. Nichols, pointing to 
 an old-fashioned, high-topped bureau, "cost an ocean of 
 money, when 'twas new, and if the brasses on it was 
 rubbed up, 'Tilda couldn't tell 'em from gold, unless 
 she's seen more on't than I have, which ain't much 
 likely, bein' I'm double her age. " 
 
 "The chest does very well for you, I admit," said 
 John, "but we have neither use nor room for it, so if 
 you can't sell it, why, give it away, or burn it, one or 
 the otber. " 
 
 Mrs. Nichols saw he was decided, and forthwith 
 'Lena was dispatched to Widow Fisher's, to see if she 
 would take it at Tiaif price. The widow had no fancy 
 for second hand articles, consequently Miss Nancy was 
 told "to keep it, and maybe she'd sometime have a 
 chance to send it to Kentucky. It wont come amiss, I 
 know, s'posin' they be well on't. I b'lieve in lookin' out 
 for a rainy day. I can teach 'Tilda economy yet,"- 
 whispered Mrs. Nichols, glancing toward the room 
 where John sat whistling, whittling, and pondering in 
 Ms own mind the best way of reconciling his wife to 
 what could not well be helped. 
 
 'Lena, who was naturally quick-sighted, had partially 
 divined the cause of her uncle's moodiness. The more 
 she saw of him the better she liked him, and she began 
 to think that she would willingly try to cure herself of 
 the peculiarities which evidently annoyed him, if he 
 would only notice her a little, which he was not likely 
 to do. He seldom noticed any child, much less little 
 'Lena, who he fancied was ignorant as well as awk- 
 ward ; but he did not know her. 
 
 One day when, as usual, he sat whittling and think- 
 ing, 'Lena approached him softly, and laying her hand 
 upon his knee, said rather timidly, "Uncle, I wish 
 you'd tell me something about my cousins. " 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 29 
 
 "What about them," he asked somewhat gruffly, 
 for it grated upon his feelings to hear his daughters 
 called cousin by her. 
 
 "I want to know how they look, and which one I 
 shall like the best," continued 'Lena. 
 
 "You'll like Anna the best," said her uncle; and 
 'Lena asked, "Why? What sort of a girl is she? Does 
 she love to go to school and study?" 
 
 "None too well, I reckon," returned her uncle, add- 
 ing that "there were not many little girls who did." 
 
 "Why J do," said 'Lena, and her uncle, stopping for 
 a moment his whittling, replied rather scornfully : 
 
 ' l You! I should like to know what you ever studied 
 besides the spelling book. " 
 
 'Lena reddened, for she knew that, whether deserv- 
 edly or not, she bore the reputation of being an excellent 
 scholar, for one of her age, and now she rather tartly 
 answered, "I study geography, arithmetic, grammar, 
 
 and " history, she was going to add, but her uncle 
 
 stopped her, saying, "That'll do, that'll do. You study 
 all these? Now I don't suppose you know what one of 
 'em is." 
 
 "Yes I do," said 'Lena, with a good deal of spirit. 
 "Olney's geography is a description of the earth; Col- 
 burn's arithmetic is the science of numbers; Smith's 
 grammar teaches us how to speak correctly. " 
 
 "Why don't you do it then," asked her uncle. 
 
 "Do what?" said 'Lena, and her uncle continued: 
 "Why don't you make some use of your boasted knowl- 
 edge of grammar? Why, my Anna has never seen the 
 inside of a grammar, as I know of, but she don't talk 
 like you do." 
 
 "Don't what, sir?" said 'Lena. 
 
 "Don't talk like you do," repeated her uncle, while 
 'Lena's eyes fairly danced with mischief as she asked, 
 "if that were good grammar." 
 
80 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 Mr. Livingstone colored, thinking it just possible that 
 he himself might sometimes be guilty of the same things 
 for which he had so harshly chided 'Lena, of whom 
 from this time he began to think more favorably. It 
 could hardly be said that he treated her with any more 
 attention, and still there was a difference whieb she f elt» 
 aad which made her very happy. 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 31 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 ON THE ROAD. 
 
 At last the packing up process came to an end. 
 Everything too poor to sell, and too good to give away, 
 had found a place — some here, some there, and some in 
 John's trunk, among his ruffled bosoms, collars, dickeys, 
 and so forth. Miss Nancy, who stood by until the last, 
 was made the receiver of sundry cracked tea-cups, nose- 
 less pitchers, and iron spoons, which could not be dis- 
 posed of elsewhere. 
 
 And now every box and trunk was ready. Farmei 
 Truesdale's red wagon stood at the door, waiting to 
 convey them to the depot, and nothing remained for 
 Grandma Nichols, but to bid adieu to the old spot, en 
 deared to her by so many associations. Again and 
 again she went from room to room, weeping always, 
 and lingering longest in the one where her children were 
 born, and where her husband and daughter had died. 
 In the corner stood the old low-post bedstead, the first 
 she had ever owned, and now how vividly she recalled 
 the time long years before, when she, a happy maiden, 
 ordered that bedstead, blushing deeply at the sly allu- 
 sion which the cabinet maker made to her approaching 
 marriage. He, too, was with her, strong and healthy. 
 Now, he was gone from her side forever. His couch 
 was a narrow coffin, and the old bedstead stood there, 
 naked — empty. Seating herself upon it, the poor old 
 lady rocked to and fro, moaning in her grief, and wish- 
 
83 *LENA RIVERS. 
 
 fng that she were not going to Kentucky, or that it 
 were possible now to remain at her mountain home. 
 Summoning all her courage, she gave one last glance 
 at the familiar objects around her, at the flowers she 
 had planted, the trees she had reared, and then taking 
 'Lena's hand, went down to the gate where her son was 
 awaiting her. 
 
 He saw she had been weeping, and though he could 
 not appreciate the cause of her tears, in his heart he 
 pitied her, and his voice and manner were unusually 
 kind as he helped her to the best seat in the wagon and 
 asked if she were comfortable. Then his eye fell "pon 
 her dress, and his pity changed to anger as he wondered 
 if she was wholly devoid of taste. At the time of his 
 father's death, he had purchased decent mourning for 
 both his mother and 'Lena ; but these Mrs. Nichols pro- 
 nounced "altogether too good for the nasty cars; no- 
 body'd think any better of them for being rigged out 
 in their very best meetin' gowns. " 
 
 So the bombasine was packed away, and in its place 
 she wore a dark blue and white spotted calico, which 
 John could have sworn she had twenty years before, 
 and which was not unlikely, as she never wore out a 
 garment. She was a great enemy to long skirts, hence 
 her's came just to her ankles, and as her black woolen 
 stockings had been carefully footed with white, there 
 was visible a dark rim about half an inch in width ! 
 Altogether she presented a rather grotesque appearance, 
 with her oblong work-bag, in which were her snuff-box, 
 brass spectacles, and half a dozen "nut-cakes," which 
 would "save John's buying dinner." 
 
 Unlike her grandmother's, 'Lena's dress was a great 
 deal too long, and as she never wore pantalets, she had 
 the look of a premature old woman, instead of a child 
 ten summers' old, as she was. Still the uncommon 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 33 
 
 beauty of her face, and the natural gracefulness of her 
 form, atoned in a measure for the singularity of hex 
 appearance. In the doorway stood Miss Nancy, and by 
 her side her nephew, Joel Slocum, a freckled face boy, 
 who had frequently shown a preference for 'Lena, by 
 going with her for her grandmother's cow, bringing 
 her harvest apples, and letting her ride on his sled oftener 
 than the other girls at school. Strange to say his affec- 
 tion was not returned, and now, notwithstanding he sev- 
 eral times wiped both eyes and nose on the end of which 
 there was an enormous freckle, 'Lena did not relent at 
 all but with a simple "Good-by, Jo," she sprang into the 
 wagon which moved rapidly away. 
 
 It was about five miles from the farmhouse to the 
 depot and when half that distance had been gone over, 
 Mrs. Nichols suddenly seized the reins, ordering the 
 driver to stop, and saying, "she must go straight back, 
 for, on the shelf of the north room cupboard, she had left 
 a whole paper of tea, which she couldn't afford to lose !" 
 
 "Drive on," said John rather angrily, at the same 
 time telling his mother that he could buy her a ton of 
 tea if she wanted it. 
 
 "But that was already bought, and 'twould have 
 saved so much," said she, softly wiping away a tear, 
 which was occasioned partly by her son's manner, and 
 partly by the great loss she felt she sustained in leaving 
 behind her favorite "old hyson." 
 
 This saving was a matter of which Grandma Nichols 
 said so much, that John, who was himself slightly 
 avaricious, began to regret that he ever knew the def- 
 inition of the word save. Lest our readers get a wrong 
 impression of Mrs. Nichols, we must say chat she 
 possessed very many sterling qualities, and her habits 
 of extreme economy resulted more from the manner in 
 which she had been compelled to live, than from natural 
 
64 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 stinginess. For this, John hardly made allowance 
 enough, and his mother's remarks, instead of restrain- 
 ing him, only made him more lavish of his money than 
 he would otherwise have been. 
 
 When Mrs. Nichols and 'Lena entered the cars, they 
 of course, attracted universal attention, which annoyed 
 John excessively. In Oakland, where his mother was 
 known and appreciated, he could bear it, but among 
 strangers, and with those of his own caste, 'twas differ- 
 ent; so motioning them into the first unoccupied seat, 
 he sauntered on with an air which seemed to say, "they 
 were nothing to him, " and finding a vacant seat at the 
 other end of the car, he took possession of it. Scarcely, 
 however, had he entered into conversation with a gen- 
 tleman near him, when some one grasped his arm, and 
 looking up, he saw his mother, her box in one hand, a 
 and an enormous pinch of snuff in the other. 
 
 "John," said she, elevating her voice so as to drown 
 the noise of the cars, "I never thought on't till this 
 minit, but I'd just as lief ride in the second-class cars as 
 not, and it only costs half as much !" 
 
 Mr. Livingstone colored crimson, and bade her go 
 back, saying that if he paid the fare she needn't feel 
 troubled about the cost. Just as she was turning to 
 leave, the loud ring and whistle, as the train neared a 
 crossing, startled her, and in great alarm she asked if 
 "somethin' hadn't bust!" 
 
 John made no answer, but the gentleman near him 
 very politely explained to her the cause of the disturb- 
 ance, after which she returned to her seat. When the 
 conductor appeared, he fortunately came in at the door 
 nearest John, who pointed out the two for whom he 
 had tickets, and then turned again to converse with the 
 gentleman, who, though a stranger, was from Louis- 
 ville, Kentucky, and whose acquaintance was easily 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 35 
 
 made. The sight of the conductor awoke in Mrs. 
 Nichol's brain a new idea, and after peering out upon 
 the platform, she went rushing up to her son, telling 
 him that "the trunks, box, feather bed, and all, were 
 every one on 'em left !" 
 
 "No, they are not," said John; "I saw them aboard 
 myself. " 
 
 "Wall, then, they're lost off, for, as sure as you're 
 born, there ain't one on 'em in here; and there's as 
 much as twenty weight of new feathers, besides all the 
 crockery ! Holler to 'em to stop quick !" 
 
 The stranger, pitying Mr. Livingstone's chagrin, 
 kindly explained to her that there was a baggage car 
 on purpose for trunks and the like, and that her feather 
 bed was undoubtedly safe. This quieted her, and men- 
 tally styling him "a proper nice man," she again re- 
 turned to her seat. 
 
 "A rare specimen of the raw Yankee," said the 
 stranger to John, never dreaming in what relations he 
 stood to him. 
 
 "Yes," answered John, not thinking it at all neces- 
 sary to make any further explanations. 
 
 By this time Mrs. Nichols had attracted the attention 
 of all the passengers, who watched her movements 
 with great interest. Among these was a fine looking 
 youth, fifteen or sixteen years of age, who sat directly 
 in front of 'Lena. He had a remarkably open, pleasing 
 countenance, while there was that in his eyes which 
 showed him to be a lover of fun. Thinking he had 
 now found it in a rich form, he turned partly round, 
 and would undoubtedly have quizzed Mrs. Nichols un- 
 mercifully, had not something in the appearance of 
 'Lena prevented him. This was also her first ride in 
 the cars, but she possessed a tact of concealing the fact, 
 and if she sometimes felt frightened, she looked in the 
 
36 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 faces of those around her, gathering from them that 
 there was no danger. She knew that her grandmother 
 was making herself ridiculous, and her eyes filled with 
 tears as she whispered, "Do sit still, granny; every- 
 body is looking at you. " 
 
 The young lad noticed this, and while it quelled in 
 him the spirit of ridicule, it awoke a strange interest 
 in 'Lena, who, he saw, was beautiful, spite of her un- 
 seemly guise. She was a dear lover of nature, and as 
 the cars sped on through the wild mountain scenery 
 between Pittsfield and Albany, she stood at the open 
 window, her hands closely locked together, her lips 
 slightly parted, and her eyes wide with wonder at the 
 country through which they were passing. At her 
 grandmother's suggestion she had removed her bonnet, 
 and the brown curls, which clustered around her white 
 forehead and neck, were moved up and down by the 
 fresh breeze which was blowing. The youth was a 
 passionate admirer of beauty, come in what garb it 
 might, and now as he watched, he felt a strong desire 
 to touch one of the glossy ringlets, which floated within 
 his reach. There would be no harm in it, he thought — 
 "she was only a little girl, arid he was almost a man — 
 had. tried to shave, and was going to enter college in the 
 fall. " Still he felt some doubts as to the propriety of 
 the act, and was about making up his mind that he had 
 better not, when the train shot into the "tunnel," and 
 for an instant they were in total darkness. Quick as 
 thought his hand sought the brown curls, but they were 
 gone, and when the cars again emerged into the day- 
 light, 'Lena's arms were around her grandmother's 
 neck, trying to hold her down; for the old lady, sure of 
 a smash-up this time, had attempted to rise, screaming 
 loudly for "John!" 
 
 The boy laughed aloud — he could not help it; but 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 37 
 
 when 'Lena's eyes turned reprovingly upon him, he felt 
 sorry; and anxious to make amends, addressed himself 
 very politely to Mrs. Nichols, explaining to her that it 
 was a "tunnel" through which they had passed, and 
 assuring her there was no danger whatever. Then 
 turning to 'Lena, he said, "I reckon your grandmother 
 is not much accustomed to traveling. " 
 
 "No, sir," answered 'Lena, the rich blood dyeing her 
 cheek at being addressed by a stranger. 
 
 It was the first time any one had ever said "sir" to 
 the boy, and now feeling quite like patronizing the little 
 girl, he continued: "I believe old people generally are 
 timid when they enter the cars for the first time. * 
 
 Nothing from 'Lena except a slight straightening up 
 of her body, and a smoothing down of her dress, but 
 the ice was broken, and erelong she and her companion 
 were conversing as familiarly as if they had known 
 each other for years. Still the boy was not inquisitive 
 — he did not ask her name, or where she was going, 
 though he told her that his home was in Louisville, 
 and that at Albany he was to take the boat for New 
 York, where his mother was stopping with some 
 friends. He also told her that the gentleman near the 
 door, with dark eyes and whiskers, was his father. 
 
 Glancing toward the person indicated, 'Lena saw 
 that it was the same gentleman who, all the afternoon, 
 had been talking with her uncle. He was noble look- 
 ing, and she felt glad that he was the father of the boy 
 — he was just such a man, she fancied, as ought to be 
 his father — just such a man as she could wish her father 
 to be — and then 'Lena felt glad that the youth had 
 asked her nothing concerning her parentage, for, though 
 her grandmother had seldom mentioned her father in 
 her presence, there were others ready and willing to in- 
 form her that he was a villain, who broke her mother's 
 heart 
 
38 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 When tney reached Albany, the boy rose, and offer- 
 ing his hand to 'Lena, said, "I suppose I must bid you 
 good-by, but I'd like right well to go farther with you." 
 
 At this moment the stranger gentleman came up, 
 and on seeing how his son was occupied, said smilingly, 
 "So ho! Durward, you always manage to make some 
 lady acquaintance. " 
 
 "Yes, father," returned the boy called Durward, 
 "but not always one like this. Isn't she pretty," he 
 added in a whisper. 
 
 The stranger's eyes fell upon 'Lena's face, and for a 
 moment, as if by some strange fascination, seemed 
 riveted there ; but the crowd pressed him forward, and 
 'Lena only heard him reply to his son, 'Yes, Durward, 
 very pretty; but hurry, or we shall lose the boat." 
 
 The next moment they were gone. Leaning from 
 the window, 'Leua tried to catch another glimpse 
 of him, but in vain. He was gone — she would never 
 see him again, she thought ; and then she fell into a 
 reverie concerning his home, his mother, his sisters, if 
 he had any, and finally ended by wishing that she were 
 his sister, and the daughter of his father. While she 
 was thus pondering, her grandmother, also, was busy, 
 and when 'Lena looked round for her she was gone. 
 Stepping from the car, 'Lena espied her in the distance, 
 standing by her uncle and anxiously watching for the 
 appearance of her "great trunk, little trunk, band-box, 
 and bag. " Each of these articles were forthcoming, 
 and in a few moment they were on the ferry-boat cross- 
 ing the blue waters of the Hudson, Mrs. Nichols de- 
 claring that "if she'd known it wasn't a bridge she was 
 steppin' onto, she'd be bound they wouldn't have got 
 her on in one while. " 
 
 "Do sit down," said Lena; "the other people don't 
 eeem to be afraid, and I'm sure we needn't." 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 3& 
 
 This Mrs. Nichols was more willing to do, as directly 
 at her side was another old lady, traveling for the first 
 time, frightened and anxious. To her Mrs. Nicholw 
 addressed herself, announcing her firm belief that "she 
 should be blew sky high before she reached Kentucky^ 
 where she was going to live with her son John, who, 
 she supposed, was well off, worth twenty negroes oi 
 more, but," she added, lowering her voice, "I don't be- 
 lieve in no such, and I mean he shall set 'em free — poo* 
 critters, duddin' from mornin' till night without a cent 
 of pay. He says they call him 'master,' but I'll war- 
 rant he'll never catch me a callin' him so to one on 'em 
 I promised Nancy Scovandyke that I wouldn't, and I 
 wont !" 
 
 Here a little pop com boy came round, which re 
 minded Mrs. Nichols of her money, and that she hadn'ts 
 once looked after it since she started. Thinking thi«^ 
 as favorable a time as she would have, she drew fi'om 
 her capacious pocket an old knit purse, and commenced 
 counting out its contents, piece by piece. 
 
 "Beware of pickpockets!" said some on© in her Gar, 
 and with the exclamation of "Oh, the Lord!" the purse 
 disappeared in her pocket, on which she kept her hand 
 until the boat touched the opposite shore. Then in the 
 confusion and excitement it was withdrawn, the purse 
 was forgotten, and when on board the night express for 
 Buffalo it was again looked for, it wa& gone! 
 
 With a wild outcry the horror-stricken matron sprang 
 up, calling for John, who in some alarm came to her 
 side, asking what she wanted. 
 
 "I've lost my purse. Somebody's stole it. Lock the 
 door quick, and search every man, woman, and child in 
 the car !" 
 
 The conductor, who chanced to be present, now came 
 up, demanding an explanation, and trying to convince 
 
40 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 Mrs. Nichols how improbable it was that any one pres 
 ent had her money. 
 
 "Stop the train, then, and let me get off." 
 
 "Had you a large amount?" asked the conductor. 
 
 "Every cent I had in the world. Ain't you going to 
 let me get off?" was the answer. 
 
 The conductor looked inquiringly at John, who shook 
 his head, at the same time whispering to his mother not 
 to feel so badly, as he would give her all the money she 
 wanted„ Then placing a ten dollar bill in her hand, he 
 took a seat behind her. We doubt whether this would 
 have quieted the old lady, had not a happy idea that 
 moment entered her mind, causing her to exclaim 
 loudly, "There, now, I've just this minute thought. I 
 hadn't but five dollars in my purse; t'other fifty I 
 sewed up in an old night-gown sleeve, and tucked it 
 away in that satchel up there," pointing to 'Lena's trav- 
 eling bag, which hung over her head. She would un- 
 doubtedly have designated the very corner of said 
 satchel in which her money could be found, had not her 
 son touched her shoulder, bidding her be silent and not 
 tell everybody where her money was, if she didn't want 
 it stolen. 
 
 Mrs. Nichols made no reply, but when she thought 
 she was not observed, she arose, and slyly taking down 
 the satchel, placed it under her. Then seating herself 
 upon it, she gave a sigh of relief as she thought, "they'd 
 have to work hard to get it now, without her knowing 
 it!" 
 
 Dear old soul! when arrived at her journey's end, 
 how much comfort she took in recounting over and over 
 again the incidents of the robbery, wondering if it was, 
 as John said, the very man who had so kindly cautioned 
 her to beware of pickpockets, and who thus ascertained 
 where she kept her purse. Nancy Scovandyke, too, 
 
"LENA RIVERS. 41 
 
 was duly informed of her loss, and charged when she 
 came to Kentucky, "to look out on the ferry-boat for a 
 youngish, good-looking man, with brown frock coat, 
 blue cravat, and mouth full of white teeth. " 
 
 At Buffalo, Mr. Livingstone had hard work to coax his 
 mother on board the steamboat, but he finally succeeded, 
 and as the weather chanced to be fine, she declared that 
 ride on the lake to be the pleasantest part of her jour- 
 ney. At Cleveland they took the cars for Cincinnati, 
 going thence to Lexington by stage. On ordinary 
 occasions Mr. Livingstone would have preferred the 
 river, but knowing in all probability that he should meet 
 with some of his friends upon the boat, he chose the 
 route via Lexington, where he stopped at the 
 Phoenix, as was his usual custom. 
 
 After seeing his mother and niece into the public 
 parlor, he left them for a time, saying he had some 
 business to transact in the city. Scarcely was he gone 
 when the sound of shuffling footsteps in the hall an- 
 nounced an arrival, and a moment after, a boy, appar- 
 ently fifteen years of age, appeared in the door. He 
 was richly though carelessly dressed, and notwithstand- 
 ing the good-humored expression of his rather hand- 
 some face, there was in his whole appearance an inde- 
 scribable something which at once pronounced him to 
 be a "fast" boy. A rowdy hat was set on one side of 
 his head, after the most approved fashion, while in his 
 hand he held a lighted cigar, which he applied to his 
 mouth when he saw the parlor was unoccupied, save by 
 an "old woman" and a "little girl." 
 
 Instinctively 'Lena shrank from him, and withdraw- 
 ing herself as far as possible within the recess of the 
 window, pretended to be busily watching the passers 
 by. But she did not escape his notice, and after coolly 
 Burveying her for a moment, he walked up to her, say* 
 
42 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 ing, "How d'ye, polywog? I'll be hanged if I know to 
 what gender you belong — woman or gal — which is it, 
 hey?' 
 
 "None of your business." was 'Lena's ready answer. 
 
 "Spunky, ain't you," said he, unceremoniously pull- 
 ing one of the brown curls which Durward had so 
 tanged to touch. "Seems to me your hair don't match 
 the rest of you ; wonder if 'tisn't somebody else's head 
 set on your shoulders." 
 
 "No it ain't. It's my own head, and you just let it 
 alone," returned 'Lena, growing more and more indig- 
 nant, and wondering if this were a specimen of Ken- 
 tucky boys. 
 
 "Don't be saucy," continued her tormentor ; "I only 
 want to see what sort of stuff you are made of." 
 
 "Made of dirt,'''' muttered 'Lena. 
 
 "I reckon you are, returned the boy; "but say, where 
 did you come from and who do you live with?" 
 
 "I came from Massachusetts, and I live with granny" 
 said 'Lena, thinking that if she answered him civilly, 
 he would, perhaps, let her alone. But she was mistaken. 
 
 Glancing at granny, he burst into a loud laugh, 
 ajnd then placing his hat a little more on one side, and 
 assuming a nasal twang, he said, "Neow dew tell, if 
 you're from Massachusetts. How dew you dew, little 
 Y ankee, and how are all the folks to hum?" 
 
 Feeling sure that not only herself but all her relations 
 were included in this insult, 'Lena darted forward, hit- 
 ting him a blow in the face, which he returned by 
 puffing smoke into hers, whereupon she snatched the 
 cigar from his mouth and hurled it into the street, bid- 
 ding him "touch her again if he dared." All this tran- 
 spired so rapidly that Mrs. Nichols had hardly time to 
 understand its meaning, but fully comprehending it 
 now, she was about coming to the rescue, when her 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 43 
 
 Bon reappeared, exclaiming, "John, John Livingstone 
 Jr., bow came you here?" 
 
 Had a cannon exploded at the feet of John Jr., as he 
 was called, he could not have been more startled. He 
 was not expecting his father for two or three days, and 
 was making the most of his absence by having what he 
 called a regular "spree." Taking him altogether, he 
 was, without being naturally bad, a spoiled child, whom 
 no one could manage except his father, and as his father 
 seldom tried, he was, of course, seldom managed. Never 
 yet had he remained at any school more than two quar- 
 ters, for if he were not sent away, he generally ran 
 away, sure of finding a champion in his mother, who 
 had always petted him, calling him, "Johnny darling," 
 until he one day very coolly informed her that she was 
 "a silly old fool," and that "he'd thank her not to 
 Jonnny darling him any longer." 
 
 It would be difficult to describe the amazement of 
 John Jr., when 'Lena was presented to him as his cousin, 
 and Mrs. Nichols as his grandmother. Something 
 which sounded very much like an oath escaped his lips, 
 as turning to his father he muttered, "Won't mother go 
 into fits?" Then, as he began to realize the ludicrous- 
 ness of the whole affair he exclaimed, "Rich, good, by 
 gracious !" and laughing loudly, he walked away to 
 regale himself with another cigar. 
 
 'Lena began to tremble for her future happiness, if 
 that boy was to live in the same house with her. She 
 did not know that she had already more than half-won 
 his good opinion, for he was far better pleased with her 
 antagonistical demonstrations, than he would have been 
 had she cried or ran from him, a? his sister Anna gen- 
 erally did when he teased her After a few moments 
 he returned to the parlor, and walking up with Mrs. 
 Nichols, commenced talking very sociably to her, call- 
 
44 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 ing her "Granny," and winking slyly at 'Lena, as ha 
 did so. Mr. Livingstone had too much good sense to 
 sit quietly by and hear his mother ridiculed by his son, 
 and in a loud, stern voice he bade the young gentleman 
 "behave himself. " 
 
 "Law, now," said Mrs. Nichols, "let him talk if ha 
 wants to. I like to hear him. He's the only grandson 
 I've got." 
 
 This speech had the effect of silencing John Jc, , quite 
 as much as his father's command. If he could tease 
 his grandmother by talking to her, he would take de- 
 light in doing so, but if she wanted him to talk — that 
 was quite another thing. So moving away from her, 
 he took a seat near 'Lena, telling her her dress was "a 
 heap too short," and occasionally pinching her, just to 
 vary the sport! This last, however, 'Lena returned 
 with so much force that he grew weary of the fun, and 
 informing her that he was going to a circus which was 
 in town that evening, he arose to leave the room. 
 
 Mr. Livingstone, who partially overheard what he 
 had said stopped him and asked "where he was going?" 
 
 Feigning a yawn and rubbing his eyes, John Jr. 
 replied that "he was confounded sleepy and was going 
 to bed." 
 
 "'Lena, where did he say he was going?" asked her 
 
 'Lena trembled, for John Jr., had clinched his fist, 
 and was shaking it threateningly at her. 
 
 "Where did he say he was going?" repeated her uncle. 
 
 Poor 'Lena had never told a Ee in her lif <\ and now, 
 braving her cousin's anger, she said, "To the circus, 
 sir. Oh, I wish you had not asked me." 
 
 " You'll get your pay for that," muttered John Jr., 
 sullenly reseating himself by his father, who kept an eye 
 on him until he saw him safely in his room. 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 4$ 
 
 Much as t/ohn Jr. frightened 'Lena with his threats, 
 in his heart he respected her for telling the truth, and if 
 the next morning on their way home in the stage, in 
 which his father compelled him to take a seat, he fre- 
 quently found it convenient to step on her feet, it was 
 more from a natural propensity to torment than from 
 any lurking feeling of revenge. 'Lena was nowise 
 backward in returning his cousinly attentions, and so 
 between an interchange of kicks, wry faces, and so 
 forth, they proceeded toward "Maple Grove," a descd^ 
 %a* c* which wiP be given m ^other chapter 
 
$8 XENA RIVERS. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 MAPLE GROVE. 
 
 The residence of Mr. Livingstone, or rather of Mr. 
 liivingstone's wife, was a large, handsome building, 
 Such as one often finds in Kentucky, particularly in the 
 country. Like most planter's houses, it stood at some 
 little distance from the street, from which its massive 
 walls, wreathed with evergreen, were just discernible. 
 The carriage road which led to it passed first through a 
 heavy iron gate, guarded by huge bronze lions, so 
 natural and life-like, that Mrs. Nichols, when first she 
 saw them, uttered a cry of fear. Next came a beautiful 
 maple grove, followed by a long, green lawn, dotted 
 here and there with forest trees, and having on its right 
 a deep running brook, whose waters, farther on at the 
 rear of the garden, were formed into a miniature fish 
 pond. 
 
 The house itself was of brick — two storied, and sur- 
 rounded on three sides with a double piazza,, whose pil- 
 lars were entwined with climbing roses, honey-suckle, 
 and running vines, so closely interwoven as to give it 
 the appearance of an immense summer-house. In the 
 spacious yard in front, tall shade trees and bright green 
 grass were growing, while in the well-kept garden at 
 the left, bloomed an endless variety of roses and flower- 
 ing shrubs, which in their season filled the air with per- 
 fume, and made the spot brilliant with beauty. Di- 
 ectly through the center of this garden ran the stream 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 47 
 
 of which we have spoken, and as its mossy banks were 
 never disturbed, they presented the appearance of a 
 soft, velvety ridge, where each spring the starry dan- 
 delion and the blue-eyed violet grew. 
 
 Across the brook two small foot-bridges had been 
 built, both of which were latticed and overgrown by 
 luxuriant grape vines, whose dark, green foliage was now 
 intermingled with clusters of the rich purple fruit. At 
 the right, and somewhat in the rear of the building, 
 was a group of linden trees, overshadowing the white- 
 washed houses of the negroes, who, imitating as far as 
 possible the taste of their master, beautified their dwell- 
 ings with hop- vines, creepers, hollyhocks and the like. 
 Altogether, it was as 'Lena said, "just the kind of place 
 which one reads of in stories, " and which is often found 
 at the "sunny south." The interior of the building cor- 
 responded with the exterior, for with one exception, 
 the residence of a wealthy Englishman, Mrs. Living- 
 stone prided herself upon having the best furnished 
 house in the county; consequently neither pains nor 
 money had been spared in the selection of the furniture, 
 which was of the most costly kind. 
 
 Carrie, the eldest of the daughters, was now about 
 thirteen years of age. Proud, imperious, deceitful, and 
 self-willed, she was hated by the servants, and disliked 
 by her equals. Some thought her pretty. She felt sure 
 of it, and many an hour she spent before the mirror, 
 admiring herself and anticipating the time when she 
 would be a grown-up lady, and as a matter of course, a 
 belle. Her mother unfortunately belonged to that class 
 who seem to think that the chief aim in life is to secure 
 a "brilliant match," and thinking she could not com- 
 mence too soon, she had early instilled into her favorite 
 daughter's mind the necessity of appearing to the best 
 possible advantage, when in the presence of wealth and 
 
48 *LENA RIVERS. 
 
 distinction, pointing out her own marriage as a proof of 
 the unhappiness resulting from unequal matches. In 
 this way Carrie had early learned that her father owed 
 his present position to her mother's condescension in 
 marrying him — that he was once a poor hoy living 
 among the northern hills — that his parents were poor, 
 ignorant, and vulgar — and that there was with them a 
 little girl, their daughter's child, who never had a 
 father, and whom she must never on any occasion call 
 her cousin. 
 
 All this had likewise been told to Anna, the youngest 
 daughter, who was about 'Lena's age, but upon her it 
 made no impression. If her father were once poor, he 
 was in her opinion none the worse for that — and if he 
 liked his parents, that was a sufficient reason why she 
 should like them too, and if little 'Lena was an orphan, 
 she pitied her, and hoped she might sometime see her 
 and tell her so ! Thus Anna reasoned, while her mother, 
 terribly shocked at her low-bred taste, strove to instill 
 into her mind some of her own more aristocratic no- 
 tions. But all in vain, for Anna was purely democratic, 
 loving everybody and beloved by everybody in return. 
 It is true she had no particular liking for books or study 
 of any kind, but she was gentle and affectionate in her 
 manner, and kindly considerate of other people's feel- 
 ings. With her father she was a favorite, and to her 
 he always looked for sympathy, which she seldom failed 
 to give — not in words, it is true, but whenever he 
 seemed to be in trouble, she would climb into his lap, 
 wind her arms around his neck, and laying her golden 
 head upon his shoulder, would sit thus until his brow 
 and heart grew lighter as he felt there was yet some- 
 thing in the wide world which loved and cared for him. 
 
 For Carrie Mrs. Livingstone had great expectations, 
 but Anna she feared would never make a "brilliant 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 49 
 
 match." For a long time Anna meditated upon this, 
 wondering what a "brilliant match" could mean, and 
 at last she determined to seek an explanation from Cap- 
 tain Atherton, a bachelor and a millionaire, who was in 
 the habit of visiting them, and who always noticed and 
 petted her more than he did Carrie. Accordingly, the 
 next time he came, and they were alone in the parlor, 
 she broached the subject, asking him what it meant. 
 
 Laughing loudly, the captain drew her toward him, 
 saying, "Why, marrying rich, you little novice. For 
 instance, if one of these days you should be my little 
 wife, I dare say your mother would think you had 
 made a brilliant match!" and the well-preserved gentle- 
 man of forty glanced complacently at himself in the 
 mirror, thinking how probable it was that his youthful 
 looks would be unimpaired for at least ten years to 
 come! 
 
 Anna laughed, for to her his words then conveyed 
 no serious meaning, but with more than her usual 
 quickness she replied, that "she would as soon marry 
 her grandfather." 
 
 "With Mrs. Livingstone the reader is partially ac- 
 quainted. In her youth she had been pretty, and now 
 at thirty-eight she was not without pretensions to 
 beauty, notwithstanding her sall:w complexion and 
 sunken eyes. Her hair, which was very abundant, was 
 bright and glossy, and her mouth, in which the dentist 
 had done his best, would have been handsome, had it 
 not been for a certain draw at the corners, which gave 
 it a scornful and rather disagreeable expression. In 
 her disposition she was overbearing and tyrannical, 
 fond of ruling, and deeming her husband a monster of 
 ingratitude if ever in any way he manifested a spirit of 
 rebellion. Didn't she marry him? and now they were 
 married, didn't her money support him? And wasn't 
 
50 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 it exceedingly amiable in her always to speak of theii 
 children as ours! But as for the rest, 'twas my house, 
 my servants, my carriage, and my horses. All mine — 
 "Mrs. John Livingstone's — Miss Matilda Richards that 
 was !" 
 
 Occasionally, however, her husband's spirit was 
 roused, and then, after a series of tears, sick-headaches, 
 and then spasms, "Miss Matilda Richards that was" 
 was compelled to yield, her face for many days wearing 
 the look of a much-injured, heart-broken woman. Still 
 her influence over him was great, else she had never so 
 effectually weakened every tie which bound him to his 
 native home, making him ashamed of his parents and 
 of everything pertaining to them. When her husband 
 first wrote to her that his father was dead, and that he 
 had promised to take charge of his mother and 'Lena, 
 she flew into a violent rage, which was increased ten- 
 fold when she received his second letter, wherein he 
 announced his intention of bringing them home in spite 
 of her. Bursting into tears, she declared "she'd leave 
 the house before she'd have it filled up with a lot of 
 paupers. Who did John Nichols think, he was and 
 who did he think she was ! Besides that, where was 
 he going to put them? for there wasn't a place for them 
 that she knew of !" 
 
 "Why, mother," said Anna, who was pleased with 
 the prospect of a new grandmother and cousin, "Why, 
 mother, what a story. There's the two big chambers 
 and bedrooms, besides the one next to Carrie's and 
 mine. Oh, do put them in there. It'll be so nice to 
 have grandma and cousin 'Lena so near me. " 
 
 "Anna Livingstone!" returned the indignant lady, 
 "Never let me hear you say grandma and cousin again. " 
 
 "But they be grandma and cousin," persisted Anna, 
 while her mother commenced lamenting the circum- 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 51 
 
 stance which had made them so, wishing, as she had 
 often done before, that she had never married John 
 Nichols. 
 
 "I reckon you are not the only one that wishes so," 
 slyly whispered John Jr., who was a witness to her 
 emotion. 
 
 Anna was naturally of an inquiring mind, and her 
 mother's last remark awoke within her a new and 
 strange train of thought, causing her to wonder whose 
 little girl she would have been, her father's or mother's, 
 in case they had each married some one else ! As there 
 was no one whose opinion Anna dared to ask, the ques- 
 tion is undoubtedly to this day, with her, unsolved. 
 
 The next morning when Mrs. Livingstone arose, her 
 innger of the day before was somewhat abated, and 
 knowing from past experience that it was useless to re- 
 sist her husband when once he was determined, she 
 wisely concluded that, as they were now probably on 
 the road, it was best to try to endure, for a time, at 
 least, what could not well be helped. And now arose 
 the perplexing question, "What should she do with 
 them? where should she put them that they would be 
 the most out of the way? for she could never suffer 
 them to be round when she had company." The cham- 
 ber of which Anna had spoken was out of the question, 
 for it was too nice, and besides that, it was reserved for 
 the children of her New Orleans friends, who nearly 
 every summer came up to visit her. 
 
 At the rear of the building was a long, low room, 
 containing a fireplace and two windows, which looked 
 out upon the negro quarters and the hemp fields be- 
 yond. This room, which in the summer was used for 
 storing feather-beds, blankets, and so forth, was plas- 
 tered, but minus either paper or paint. Still it was 
 quite comfortable, "better than they were accustomed 
 
52 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 to at home," Mrs. Livingstone said, and tins she do- 
 cided to give them. Accordingly the negroes were set 
 at work scrubbing the floor, washing the windows, £nd 
 scouring the sills, until the room at least possessed the 
 virtue of being clean. A faded carpet, discarded as 
 good for nothing, and over which the rats had long held 
 their nightly revels, was brought to light, shaken, 
 mended, and nailed down — then came a bedstead, 
 which Mrs. Livingston had designed as a Christmas 
 gift to one of the negroes, bi t which of course would do 
 well enough for her mother-in-law. Next i allowed an 
 old wooden rocking chair, whose ancestry Anna had 
 tried in vain to trace, and which Carrie had often pro- 
 posed burning. This with two or three more chairs of 
 a later date, a small wardrobe, and a square table, com- 
 pleted the furniture o r "the room, if we except the plain 
 muslin curtains which shaded the windows, destitute of 
 blinds. Taking it by itself, the room looked tolerably 
 well, but when compared with the richly furnished 
 apartments around it, it seemed meager and poor in- 
 deed; "but if they wanted anything better," Mrs. Liv- 
 ingstone said, "they could get it themselves. They 
 were welcome to make any alterations they chose. " 
 
 This mode of reasoning hardly satisfied Anna, and, 
 unknown to her mother, she took from her own chamber 
 a handsome hearth rug, and carrying it to her grand- 
 mother's room, laid it before the fireplace. Coming 
 accidentally upon a roll of green paper, she, with the 
 help of Corinda, a black girl, made some shades for the 
 windows, which faced the west, rendering the room 
 intolerably hot during the summer season. Then, at 
 the suggestion of Corinda, who, like many of her race, 
 was possessed of considerable taste, she looped back the 
 muslin curtains with some green ribbons, which she 
 had intended using for her "dolly's dress." The bare 
 
*LENA RIVERS. 53 
 
 appearance of the table troubled her, but by dint of 
 rummaging, she brought to light a cast-off spread, 
 which, though soiled and worn, was on one side quite 
 handsome. 
 
 "Now, if we only had something for the mantel," 
 said she; "it seems so empty." 
 
 Corinda thought a moment, and then rolling up the 
 whites of her eyes, replied, "Don't you mind them 
 little pitchers," (meaning vases,) "which Master Ather- 
 ton done gin you? They'd look mighty fine up thar ? 
 full of sprigs and posies. " 
 
 Without hesitating a moment Anna brought the 
 vases, and as she did not know the exact time when her 
 grandmother would arrive, she determined to fill them 
 with fresh flowers every morning. 
 
 "There, it looks a heap better, don't it, Carrie?" said 
 she to her sister, who chanced to be passing the door 
 and looked in. 
 
 "You must be smart," answered Carrie, "taking so 
 much pains just for them; and as I live, if you haven't 
 got those elegant vases that Captain Atherton gave 
 you for a birthday present ! I know mother won't like 
 it. I mean to tell her;" and away she ran with the im- 
 portant news, 
 
 "There, I told you so," said she, quickly returning. 
 "She says you carry them straight back and let the room 
 alone." 
 
 Anna began to cry, saying, "the vases were her 'a, 
 and she should think she might do what she pleased 
 with them. " 
 
 "What did you go and blab for, you great for shame, 
 you?" exclaimed John Jr., suddenly appearing in the 
 doorway, at the same time giving Carrie a push, which 
 set her to crying, and brought Mrs. Livingstone to the 
 scene of action, 
 
54 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 "Can't my vases stay in here? Nobodyll hurt 'em, 
 and they'll look so pretty," said Anna. 
 
 "Can't that hateful John behave, and let me alone?** 
 said Carrie. 
 
 "And can't Carrie quit sticking her nose in other 
 folks' business?" chimed in John Jr. 
 
 "Oh Lordy, what a fuss," said Corinda, while poor 
 Mrs. Livingstone, half distracted, took refuge under 
 one of her dreadful headaches, and telling her children 
 "to fight their own battles and let her alone," returned 
 to her room. 
 
 "A body'd s'pose marster's kin wan't of no kind o' 
 count," said Aunt Milly, the head cook, to a group of 
 sables, who, in the kitchen, were discussing the furni- 
 ture of the "trump'ry room," as they were in the habit 
 of calling the chamber set apart for Mrs. Nichols. 
 "Yes, they would s'pose they warn't of no kind o' 
 count, the way miss goes on, ravin' and tarin', and put- 
 tin' 'em off with low-lived truck that we black folks 
 wouldn't begin to tache with the tongs. Massy knows 
 ef my ole mother warn't dead and gone to kingdom 
 come, I should never think o' sarvin' her so, and I don't 
 set myself up to be nothin' but an ole nigger, and a 
 black one at that. But Lor', that's the way with 
 tnore'n half the white folks. They jine the church, and 
 then they think they done got a title deed to one of 
 them houses up in heaven, (that nobody ever built), sure 
 enough. Goin' straight thar, as fast as a span of race- 
 hosses can carry 'em. Ki! Won't they be disap- 
 pinted, some on 'em, and Miss Matilda long the rest, 
 when she drives up, hosses all a reekin' sweat, and 
 spects to walk straight into the best room, but is told to 
 go to the kitchen and turn hoe-cakes for us niggers, 
 who are eatin' at the fust table, with silver forks and 
 napkins — ?" 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 55 
 
 Here old Milly stopped to breathe, and her daughtei 
 Vine, who had listened breathlessly to her mother's de- 
 scription of the "good time coming" asked "when these 
 things come to pass, if Miss Carrie wouldn't have to 
 swing the feathers over the table to keep off the flies, 
 instead of herself?" 
 
 "Yes, that she will, child," returned her mother. 
 "Things is all gwine to be changed in the wink of your 
 eye. Miss Anna read that very tex' to me last Sunday, 
 and I knew in a minit what it meant. Now thar's 
 Miss Anna, blessed lamb. She's one of 'em that'll wear 
 her white gowns and stay in t'other room, with her face 
 shinin' like an ile lamp !" 
 
 While this interesting conversation was going on in 
 the kitchen, John Jr., in the parlor, was teasing his 
 mother for money, with which to go up to Lexington 
 the next day. "You may just as well give it to me 
 without any fuss," said he, "for if you don't, I'll get 
 my bills at the Phoenix charged. The old man is good, 
 and they'll trust. But then a feller feels more indepen- 
 dent when he can pay down, and treat a friend, if he 
 likes ; so hand over four or five Vs. " 
 
 At first Mrs. Livingstone refused, but her head ached 
 so hard and her "nerves trembled so," that she did not 
 feel equal to the task of contending with John Jr., who 
 was always sure in the end to have his own way. 
 Yielding at last to his importunities, she gave him 
 fifteen dollars, charging him to "keep out of bad com- 
 pany and be a good boy." 
 
 "Trust me for that," said he, and pulling the tail of 
 Anna's pet kitten, upsetting Carrie's work-box, poking 
 a black baby's ribs with his walking cane, and knock- 
 ing down a cob-house, which "Thomas Jefferson" had 
 been all day building, he mounted his favorite "Fire- 
 lock," and together with a young negro, rode off. 
 
66 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 "The Lord send us a little peace now," said Aunt 
 Milly, tossing her squalling baby up in the air, and 
 telling Thomas Jefferson not to cry, "for his young 
 master was done gone off." 
 
 "And I hope to goodness he'll stay off a spell," she 
 added, "for thar's ole Sam to pay the whole time he's 
 at home, and if ever thar was a tickled critter in this 
 world it's me, when he clar's out." 
 
 "I'm glad, too," said Anna, who had been sent to 
 the kitchen to stop the screaming; "and I wish he'd 
 stay ever so long, for I don't take a bit of comfort when 
 he's at home. " 
 
 "Great hateful! I wish he didn't live here," said 
 Carrie, gathering up her spools, thimble, and scissors, 
 while Mrs. Livingstone, feeling that his absence had 
 taken a load from her shoulders, settled herself upon 
 her silken lounge and tried to sleep. 
 
 Amid all this rejoicing at his departure, John Jr., 
 put spurs to the fleet Firelock, who soon carried him to 
 Lexington, where, as we have seen, he came unexpec- 
 tedly upon his father, who, not daring to trust him on 
 horseback, lest he should play the truant, took him into 
 the stage with himself, leaving Firelock to the care of 
 the negro. 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 57 
 
 CHAPTER VL 
 
 THE ARRIVAL. 
 
 "Oh, mother, get up quick — the stage has driven up 
 at the gate, and I reckon pa has come," said Anna, 
 bursting into the room where her mother, who was 
 suffering from a headache, was still in bed. 
 
 Raising herself upon her elbow, and pushing aside 
 the rich, heavy curtains, Mrs. Livingstone looked out 
 upon the mud-bespattered vehicle, from which a leg, 
 incased in a black and white stocking, was just mak- 
 ing its egress. "Oh, heavens!" said she burying her 
 face again in the downy pillows. Woman's curiosity, 
 however, soon prevailed over all other feelings, and 
 again looking out she obtained a full view of her 
 mother-in-law, who, having emerged from the coach, 
 was picking out her boxes, trunks, and so forth. When 
 they were all found, Mr. Livingstone ordered two 
 negroes to carry them to the side piazza, where they 
 were soon mounted by three or four little darkies, 
 Thomas Jefferson among the rest. 
 
 "John, John" said Mrs. Nichols, "them niggers 
 won't scent my things will they?" 
 
 "Don't talk, granny," whispered 'Lena, painfully 
 conscious of the curious eyes fixed upon them by the 
 bevy of blacks, who had come out to greet their master, 
 and who, with sidelong glances at each other, were in« 
 specting the newcomers. 
 
 "Don't talkl why not?" said Mrs. Nichols rather 
 
68 *LENA RIVERS. 
 
 Bharply. "This is a tree country I suppose." Then 
 bethinking herself, she added quickly, "Oh, I forgot, 
 faint free here!" 
 
 After examining the satchel and finding that the 
 nightgown sleeve was safe, Mrs. Nichols took up her 
 line of march for the house, herself carrying her um- 
 brella and bandbox, which she would not intrust to the 
 care of the negroes, "as like enough they'd break the 
 umberell, or squash her caps." 
 
 "The trumpery room is plenty good enough for 'em," 
 thought Corinda, retreating into the kitchen and cut- 
 ting sundry flourishes in token of her contempt. 
 
 The moment 'Lena came in sight, Mrs. Livingstone 
 exclaimed, "Oh, mercy, which is the oldest?" and truly, 
 poor 'Lena did present a sorry figure. 
 
 Her bonnet, never very handsome or fashionable, had 
 received an ugly crook in front, which neither her 
 grandmother or uncle had noticed, and of which John 
 Jr. would not tell her, thinking that the worse she 
 looked the more fun he would have ! Her skirts were 
 not very full, and her dress hung straight around her, 
 making her of the same bigness from her head to her feet. 
 Her shoes, which had been given to her by one of the 
 neighbors, were altogether too large, and it was with 
 considerable difficulty that she could keep them on, but 
 then as they were a present, Mrs. Nichols said "it was 
 a pity not to get all the good out of them she could," 
 
 In front of herself and grandmother, walked Mr. 
 Livingstone, moody, silent, and cross. Behind them 
 was John Jr. , mimicking first Lena's gait and then his 
 grandmother's. The negroes, convulsed with laughter, 
 darted hither and thither, running against and over 
 each other, and finally disappearing, some behind the 
 house and some into the kitchen, and all retaining a 
 position from which they could have a full view of the 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 59 
 
 proceedings. On the piazza stood Anna and Carrie, 
 the one with her handkerchief stuffed in her mouth, 
 and the other with her mouth open, astounded at the 
 unlooked for spectacle. 
 
 "Oh, what shall I do, what shall I do?" groaned 
 Mrs. Livingstone. 
 
 "Do? Get up and dress yourself, and come and see 
 your new relations; that's what I should do," answered 
 John Jr., who, tired of mimicking, had run forward, 
 and now rushed unceremoniously into his mother's 
 sleeping room, leaving the door open behind him. 
 
 "John Livingstone, what do you mean?" said she; 
 "shut that door this minute." 
 
 Feigning not to hear her, John Jr. ran back to the 
 piazza, which he reached just in time to hear the pres- 
 entation of his sisters. 
 
 "This is Carrie, and this is Anna," said Mr. Living- 
 stone, pointing to each one as he pronounced her name. 
 
 Marching straight up to Carrie and extending her 
 hand, Mrs. Nichols exclaimed, "Now I want to know 
 if this is Car'line. I'd no idee she was so big. You 
 pretty well, Car'line?" 
 
 Very haughtily Carrie touched the ends of her grand- 
 mother's fingers, and with stately gravity replied that 
 she was well. 
 
 Turning next to Anna, Mrs. Nichols continued, 
 "And this is Anny. Looks weakly 'pears to me, kind 
 of blue around the eyes as though she was fitty. Never 
 have fits, do you, dear?" 
 
 "No, ma'am," answered Anna, struggling hard to 
 keep from laughing outright. j 
 
 Here Mr. Livingstone inquired for his wife, and on 
 being told that she was sick, started for her room. 
 
 "Sick? Is your marm sick?" asked Mrs. Nichols of 
 John Jr. "Wall, I guess I'll go right in and see if I 
 
60 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 can't do somethin' for her. I'm tolerable good at 
 
 nussin'. " 
 
 Following her son, who did not observe her, she en- 
 tered unannounced into the presence of her elegant 
 daughter-in-law, who, with a little shriek, covered her 
 head with the bed-clothes. Knowing that she meant 
 well, and never dreaming that she was intruding, Mrs. 
 Nichols walked up to the bedside, saying, "How de do, 
 'Tilda? I suppose you know I'm your mother — come 
 all the way from Massachusetts to live with you. 
 What is the matter? Do you take anything for your 
 sickness?" 
 
 A groan was Mrs. Livingstone's only answer. 
 
 "Little hystericky, I guess," suggested Mrs. Nichols, 
 adding that "settin' her feet in middlin' hot water is 
 good for that. " 
 
 "She is nervous, and the sight of strangers makes 
 her worse. So I reckon you'd better go out for the 
 present," said Mr. Livingstone, who really pitied his 
 wife. Then calling Corinda, he bade her show his 
 mother to her room. 
 
 Corinda obeyed, and Mrs. Nichols followed her, ask- 
 ing her on the way "what her surname was, how old 
 she was, if she knew how to read, and if she hadn't a 
 good deal rather be free than to be a slave !" to which 
 Corinda replied, that "she didn't know what a surname 
 meant, that she didn't know how old she was, that she 
 didn't know how to read, and that she didn't know 
 whether she'd like to be free or not, but reckoned she 
 shouldn't." 
 
 "A half-witted gal that, "thought Mrs. Nichols, "and 
 I guess 'Tilda don't set much store by her." Then 
 dropping into the wooden rocking chair and laying aside 
 her bonnet, she for the first time noticed that 'Lena 
 was not with her, and asked Corinda to go for her. 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 61 
 
 Corinda complied, leaving the room just in time to 
 stifle a laugh, as she saw Mrs. Nichols stoop down to 
 examine the hearth rug, wondering "how much it cost 
 when 'twas new." 
 
 We left 'Lena standing on the steps of the piazza. 
 At a glance she had taken in the whole — had compre- 
 hended that there was no affinity whatever between 
 herself and the objects around her, and a wild, intense 
 longing filled her heart to be once more among her 
 native hills. She had witnessed the merriment of the 
 blacks, the scornful curl of Carrie's lip, the half- 
 suppressed ridicule of Anna when they met her grand- 
 mother, and now uncertain of her own reception, she 
 stood before her cousins not knowing whether to ad- 
 vance or run away. For a moment there was an awk- 
 ward silence, and then John Jr., bent on mischief, 
 whispered to Carrie, "Look at that pinch in her bonnet, 
 and just see her shoes ! Big as little sailboats !" 
 
 This was too much for 'Lena. She already disliked 
 John Jr., and now, flying into a violent passion, she 
 drew off her shoes, and hurling them at the young gen- 
 tleman's head, fled away, away, she knew not, cared 
 not whither, so that she got out of sight and hearing. 
 Coming at last to the arbor bridge across the brook in 
 the garden, she paused for breath, and throwing herself 
 upon a seat, burst into a flood of tears. For several 
 minutes she sobbed so loudly that she did not hear the 
 sound of footsteps upon the graveled walk. Anna had 
 followed her, partly out of curiosity, and partly out of 
 pity, the latter of which preponderated when she saw 
 how bitterly her cousin was weeping. Going up to her 
 she said, "Don't cry so, 'Lena. Look up and talk. 
 It's Anna, your cousin." 
 
 'Lena had not yet recovered from her angry fit, and 
 thinking Anna only came to tease her, and perhaps 
 
62 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 again ridicule her bonnet, she tore the article from her 
 head, and bending it up double, threw it into the 
 stream, which carried it down to the fish-pond, where 
 for two or three hours it furnished amusement for some 
 little negroes, who, calling it a crab, fished for it with 
 hook and line ! For a moment Anna stood watching 
 the bonnet as it sailed along down the stream, thinking 
 it looked better there than on its owner's head, but 
 wondering why 'Lena had thrown it away. Then 
 again addressing her cousin, she asked why she had 
 done so? 
 
 "Its a homely old thing, and I hate it," answered 
 'Lena, again bursting into tears. "I hate everybody, 
 and I wish I was dead, or back in Massachusetts, I 
 don't care which !" 
 
 With her impressions of the "Bay State," where her 
 mother said folks lived on "cold beans and codfish," 
 Anna thought she should prefer the first alternative, 
 but she did not say so ; and after a little she tried again 
 to comfort 'Lena, telling her "She liked her, or at least 
 she was going to like her a heap." 
 
 "No, you ain't," returned 'Lena. "You laughed at 
 me and granny both. I saw you do it, and you think 1 
 don't know anything, but I do. I've been through 
 Olney's geograph} 7 , and Colburn's arithmetic twice !" 
 
 This was more than Anna could say. She had no 
 scholarship of which to boast ; but she had a heart brim 
 full of love, and in reply to 'Lena's accusation of hav- 
 ing laughed at her, she replied, "I know I laughed, for 
 grandma looked so funny I couldn't help it. But I 
 won't any more. I pity you because your mother is 
 dead, and you never had any father, ma says. " 
 
 This made 'Lena cry again, while Anna continued : 
 "Pa'U buy you some new clothes I reckon, and if he 
 don't I'll give you some of mine, for I've got heaps, and 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 63 
 
 they'll fit you I most know. Here's my mark — " point- 
 ing to a cut upon the door-post. "Here's mine, and 
 Carrie's, and brother's. Stand up and see if you don't 
 measure like I do. " 
 
 'Lena complied and to Anna's great joy they were 
 just of a height. 
 
 "I'm so glad," said she. "Now, come to my room 
 and Corinda will fix you up mighty nice before mother 
 sees you. " 
 
 Hand-in-hand the two girls started for the house, but 
 had not gone far when they heard some one calling, 
 "Ho, Miss 'Lena, whar i*8 you? Ole miss done want 
 you." At the same time Corinda mad:* fcer appearance 
 round the corner of the piazza. 
 
 "Here, Cora," said Anna. "Come with me to my 
 room ; I want you. " 
 
 With a broad grin Corinda followed her young mis 
 tress, while 'Lena, never having been accustomed to 
 any negro save the one with whom many New Eng- 
 land children are threatened when the^ cry, clung closer 
 to Anna's side, occasionally casting a timid glance 
 toward the dark-browed girl who followed them. In 
 the upper hall they met with Carrie, who, in passing 
 'Lena, held back her dress, as if fearing contamination 
 from a contact with her cousin's plainer garments. 
 Painfully alive to the slightest insult, 'Lena reddened, 
 while Anna said, "Never mind — that's just like Cad, 
 but nobody cares for her." 
 
 Thus reassured 'Lena followed on, until they reached 
 Anna's room, which they were about to enter, when 
 the shrill voice or Mrs. Nichols fell upon their ears^ 
 calling " 'Leny, 'Leny, where upon airth is she?" 
 
 ''Let's go to her first," said 'Lena, and leading the 
 way, Anna soon ushered her into her grandmother's 
 room, which, child as she was, 'Lena readily saw was 
 
64 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 far different from the handsome apartments of which 
 she had obtained a passing glance. 
 
 But Mrs. Nichols had not thought of this — and was 
 doubtless better satisfied with her present quarters than 
 she would have been with the best furnished chamber 
 in the house. The moment her granddaughter ap- 
 peared, she exclaimed, " 'Leny Rivers, where have you 
 been? I was worried to death, for fear you might be 
 runnin' after some of them paltry niggers. And now 
 while I think on't, I charge you never to go a nigh 
 'em; I'd no idee they were such half -naked, nasty 
 critters. " 
 
 This prohibition was a novelty to Anna, who spent 
 many happy hours with her sable-hued companions, 
 never deeming herself the worse for it. Her grand- 
 mother's first remark, however, struck her still more 
 forcibly, and she immediately asked, "Grandma, what 
 did you call 'Lena, just now? 'Lena what?" 
 
 "I called her by her name, 'Lena Rivers. What 
 should I call her?" returned Mrs. Nichols. 
 
 "Why, I thought her name was 'Lena Nichols; ma 
 said 'twas," answered Anna. 
 
 Mrs. Nichols was very sensitive to any slight cast 
 upon 'Lena's birth, and she rather tartly informed 
 Anna that "her mother didn't know everything," add- 
 ing that " 'Lena's father was Mr. Rivers, and there 
 wasn't half so much reason why she should be called 
 Nichols as there was why Anna should, for that was 
 her father's name the one by which he was baptized the 
 same day with Nancy Scovandyke, who's jest his age, 
 only he was born about a quarter past four in the morn- 
 ing and she not till some time in the afternoon !" 
 
 "But where is Mr. Rivers?" asked Anna, more inter- 
 ested in him than in the exact minute of her father's 
 birth. 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 66 
 
 "The Lord only knows," returned Mrs. Nichols, add- 
 ing that, "little girls shouldn't ask too many questions." 
 
 This silenced Anna, and satisfied her, too, that there 
 was some mystery connected with 'Lena, which she 
 must not try to penetrate. The mention of Nancy 
 Scovandyke reminded Mrs. Nichols of the dishes, which 
 that lady had packed away, and anxious to see if they 
 were safe, she turned to 'Lena, saying, "I guess we'll 
 have time before dinner to unpack my trunks, for I 
 want to know how the crockery stood the racket. Anny, 
 you run down and tell your pa to fetch 'em up here, 
 that's a good girl." 
 
 In her eagerness to know what those weather-beaten 
 boxes contained, Anna forgot her scheme of dressing 
 'Lena, and ran down, not to call her father, but the 
 black boy, Adam. It took her a long time to find him, 
 and Mrs. Nichols, growing impatient, determined to go 
 herself, spite of 'Lena's entreaties that she would stay 
 where she was. Passing down the long stairway, and 
 out upon the piazza, she espied a negro girl on her 
 hands and knees engaged in cleaning the steps with a 
 cloth. Instantly remembering her mop, she greatly 
 lamented that she had left it behind — " 'twould come so 
 handy now," thought she, but there was no help for it. 
 
 Walking up to the girl, whose name she did not 
 know, she said, "Sissy, can you tell me where John is?" 
 
 Quickly "Sissy's" ivories became visible, as she re- 
 plied, "We hain't got any such nigger as John." 
 
 With a silent invective upon negroes in general, and 
 this one in particular, Mrs. Nichols choked, stammered, 
 and finally said, "I didn't ask for a nigger I want 
 your master, John !" 
 
 Had the old lady been a Catholic, she would have 
 crossed herself for thus early breaking her promise to 
 Nancy Scovandyke. As it was, she mentally asked 
 
66 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 forgiveness, and as the colored girl, "didn't know where 
 marster was," but "reckoned he had gone somewhar," 
 she turned aside, and seeking her son's room, again 
 entered unannounced. Mrs. Livingstone, who was up 
 and dressed, frowned darkly upon her visitor. But 
 Mrs. Nichols did not heed it, and advancing forward, 
 she said, "Do you feel any better, 'Tilda? I'd keep 
 kinder still to-day, and not try to do much, for if you 
 feel any consarned about the housework, I'd just as lief 
 see to't a little after dinner as not. " 
 
 "I have all confidence in Milly's management, and 
 seldom trouble myself about the affairs of the kitchen, " 
 answered Mrs. Livingstone. 
 
 "Wall, then," returned her mother-in-law, nothing 
 daunted, "Wall, then, mebby you'd like to have me 
 come in and set with you a while. " 
 
 It would be impossible for us to depict Mrs. Living- 
 stone's look of surprise and anger at this proposition. 
 Her face alternately flushed and then grew pale, until 
 at last she found voice to say, "I greatly prefer being 
 alone, madam. It annoys me excessively to have any 
 one round." 
 
 "Considerable kind o' touchy," thought Mrs. Nichols; 
 "but then the poor critter is sick, and I shan't lay it up 
 agin her." 
 
 Taking out her snuff-box, she offered it to her daugh- 
 ter, telling her that "like enough 'twould cure her head- 
 ache." Mrs. Livingstone's first impulse was to strike it 
 from her mother's hand, but knowing how unlady-like 
 that would be, she restrained herself, and turning away 
 her head, replied, "Ugh! no! The very sight of it 
 makes me sick." 
 
 "How you do talk! Wall, I've seen folks that it 
 carved jest so ; but you'll git over it. Now there was 
 Nancy Scovandyke — did John ever say anything about 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 67 
 
 her? Wall, she couldn't bear snuff till after her disap- 
 pintment — John told you, I suppose?" 
 
 "No, madam, my husband has never told me any- 
 thing concerning his Eastern friends, neither do I wish 
 to hear anything of them," returned Mrs. Livingstone, 
 her patience on the point of giving out. 
 
 "Never told you nothin' about Nancy Sco Vandyke! 
 If that don't beat all ! Why he was " 
 
 She was prevented from finishing the sentence, which 
 would undoubtedly have raised a domestic breeze, when 
 Anna came to tell her that the trunks were carried to 
 her room. 
 
 "I'll come right up then," said she, adding more to 
 herself than any one else, "If I ain't mistaken, I've got 
 a little paper of sarfon somewhere, which I mean to 
 steep for 'Tilda. Her skin looks desput jandissy !" 
 
 When Mr. Livingstone again entered his wife's room, 
 he found her in a collapsed state of anger and mortifi- 
 cation. 
 
 "John Nichols," said she, with a strong emphasis on 
 the first word, which sounded very much like Jam, 
 "do you mean to kill me by bringing that vulgar, 
 ignorant thing here, walking into my room without 
 knocking — calling me ''Tilda, and prating about Nancy 
 somebody ' ' 
 
 John started. His wife knew nothing of his affaire 
 du cceur with Miss Nancy, and for his own peace of 
 mind 'twas desirable that she should not. Mentally 
 resolving to give her a few hints, he endeavored to con- 
 ciliate his wife, by saying that he knew "his mother 
 was troublesome, but she must try not to notice her 
 oddities. " 
 
 "I wonder how I can help it, when she forces herself 
 upon me continually,'* returned his wife. "I must 
 either keep the doors locked, or live in constant terror." 
 
68 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 "It's bad, I know," said he, smoothing her glossy 
 hair, "but then, she's old, you know. Have you seen 
 'Lena?" 
 
 "No, neither do I wish to, if she's at all like her 
 grandmother," answered Mrs. Livingstone. 
 
 "She's handsome," suggested Mr. Livingstone. 
 
 "Pshaw! handsome!" repeated his wife, scornfully, 
 while he replied, "Yes, handsomer than either of our 
 daughters, and with the same advantages, I've no 
 doubt sheM surpass them both. " 
 
 "Thosf advantages, then, she shall never have," re- 
 turned Mrs. Livingstone, already jealous of a child she 
 had only "seen at a distance. 
 
 Mr. Livingston made no reply, but felt that he'd 
 made a rxistake in praising 'Lena, in whom he began 
 to feel a degree of interest for which he could not 
 account. He did not know that way down in the depths 
 of his hc^rt, caloused over as it was by worldly selfish- 
 ness, there was yet a tender spot, a lingering memory 
 of his culy sister, whom 'Lena so strongly resembled. 
 If left to himself, he would undoubtedly have taken 
 pride ir seeing his niece improve, and as it was, he de- 
 termini that she should at home receive the same in- 
 struction that his daughters did. Perhaps he might 
 no*, ser/d her away to school. He didn't know how that 
 would \>e — his wife held the purse, and taking refuge 
 behmd that excuse, he, for the present, dismissed the 
 subject (So much for marrying a rich wife and noth- 
 ing els'). This we throw in gratis!) 
 
 Men titime grandma had returned to her room, at the 
 door of which she found John Jr. and Carrie, both 
 curious to know what was in those boxes, one of which 
 had 'burst open and been tied up with a rope. 
 
 "Come, children," said she, "don't stay out there—- 
 come in. " 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 69 
 
 "We prefer remaining here," said Carrie, in a tone 
 and manner so nearly resembling her mother, that Mrs. 
 Nichols could not refrain from saying, "chip of the old 
 block!" 
 
 "That's so, by cracky. You've hit her this time, 
 granny," exclaimed John Jr., snapping his fingers under 
 Carrie's nose, which, being rather long, was frequently 
 a subject of his ridicule. 
 
 "Let me be, John Livingstone," said Carrie, while 
 'Lena resolved never again to use the word, "granny," 
 which she knew her cousin had taken up on purpose to 
 tease her. 
 
 "Come, 'Lena, catch hold and help me untie this 
 rope. I b'lieve the crockery's here, " said Mrs. Nichols 
 to 'Lena, who soon opened the chest, disclosing to view 
 as motley a variety of articles as is often seen. 
 
 Among the rest was the "blue set," a part of her 
 "setting out," as his grandmother told John Jr., at the 
 same time dwelling at length upon their great value. 
 Mistaking Carrie's look of contempt for envy, Mrs. 
 Nichols chucked her under the chin, telling her "Maybe 
 there was something for her, if she was a good girl. " 
 
 "Now, Cad, turn your nose up clear to the top of 
 your head," said John Jr., vastly enjoying his sister's 
 vexation. 
 
 "Where does your marm keep her china? I want to 
 put this with it," said Mrs. Nichols to Anna, who, un- 
 certain what reply to make, looked at Carrie to answer 
 for her. 
 
 "I reckon mother don't want that old stuff stuck into 
 her china-closet," said Carrie, elevating her nose to a 
 height wholly satisfactory to John Jr. , who unbottoned 
 one of his waistband buttons to give himself room to 
 laugh. 
 
 " Mortal sakes alive! I wonder if she don't," re- 
 
70 *LENA RIVERS. 
 
 turned Mrs. Nichols, beginning to get an inkling of 
 Carrie's character, and the estimation in which her 
 valuables were held. 
 
 "Here's a nice little cupboard over the fireplace; I'd 
 put them here," said 'Lena. 
 
 "Yes," chimed in John Jr., imitating both his grand- 
 mother and cousin; "yes, granny, put 'em there; the 
 niggers are aivful critters to steal, and like enough 
 you'd lose 'em if they sot in with marm's!" 
 
 This argument prevailed. The dishes were put away 
 in the cupboard, 'Lena thinking that with all his bad- 
 ness John Jr. was of some use after all. At last, tired 
 of looking on, Anna suggested to 'Lena, who did not 
 seem to be helping matters forward much, that she 
 should go and be dressed up as had been first proposed. 
 Readily divining her sister's intention, Carrie ran with 
 it to her mother, who sent back word that " 'Lena 
 must mind her own affairs, and let Anna's dresses 
 alone !" 
 
 This undeserved thrust made 'Lena cry, while Anna 
 declared "her mother never said any such thing," which 
 Carrie understood as an insinuation that she had told a 
 falsehood. Accordingly a quarrel of words ensued be- 
 tween the two sisters, which was finally quelled by 
 John Jr., who called to Carrie "to come down, as she'd 
 got a letter from Durward Bellmont. " 
 
 Durward! How that name made 'Lena's heart leap! 
 Was it her Durward — the boy in the cars? She almost 
 hoped not, for somehow the idea of his writing to Car- 
 rie was not a pleasant one. At last summoning cour- 
 age, she asked Anna who he was, and was told that he 
 lived in Louisville with his step-father, Mr. Graham, 
 and that Carrie, about two months before, had met him 
 in Frankfort at Colonel Douglass's, where she was in 
 the habit of visiting. "Colonel Douglass, " continued 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 71 
 
 Anna, "has got a right nice little girl, whose name is 
 Nellie. Then there's Mabel Ross, a sort of cousin, who 
 lives with them part of the time. She's an orphan and 
 a great heiress. You mustn't tell any body for the 
 world, but I overheard ma say that she wanted John 
 to marry Mabel, she's so rich — but, pshaw ! he won't, 
 for she's awful babyish and ugly looking. Captain 
 Atherton is related to Nellie, and during the holidays 
 she and Mabel are coming up to spend a week, and I'll 
 bet Durward is coming, too. Cad teased him, and he 
 said maybe he would if he didn^t go to college this fall. 
 I'll run down and see." 
 
 Soon returning, she brought the news that it was as 
 she had conjectured. Durward, who was now travel- 
 ing, was not going to college until the next fall, and at 
 Christmas he was coming to the country with his 
 cousin. 
 
 "Oh, I'm so glad," said Anna. "We'll have a time; 
 for ma'll invite them here, of course. Cad thinks a 
 heap of Durward, and I want so bad to see him. Don't 
 you?" 
 
 'Lena made no direct reply, for much as she would 
 like to see her compagnon du voyage, she felt an un- 
 willingness to meet him in the presence of Carrie, who, 
 she knew would spare no pains to mortify her. Soon 
 forgetting Durward, Anna again alluded to her plan 
 of dressing 'Lena, wishing "Cad would mind her own 
 business." Then, as a new idea entered her head, she 
 brightened up, exclaiming, "I know what I can do. 
 I'll have Corinda curl your hair real pretty. You've 
 got beautiful hair. A heap nicer than my yellow flax. " 
 
 'Lena offered no remonstrance, and Corinda, who 
 came at the call of her young mistress, immediately 
 commenced brushing and curling the bright, wavy hair 
 which Anna had rightly called beautiful. While this 
 
72 *LENA RIVERS. 
 
 was going on, Grandma Nichols, who had always ad- 
 hered to the good old puritanical custom of dining 
 exactly at 12 o'clock, hegan to wonder why dinner 
 was not forthcoming. She had breakfasted in Ver- 
 sailles, but, like many travelers, could not eat much at a 
 hotel, and now her stomach clamored loudly for food. 
 Three times had she walked back and forth before what 
 she supposed was the kitchen, and from which a savory 
 smell c£ something was issuing, and at last determining 
 to stop and reconnoiter, she started for the door. 
 
 The northern reader at all acquainted with southern 
 life, knows well that a kitchen there and a kitchen here 
 are two widely different things — ours, particularly in 
 the country, being frequently used as a dining room, 
 while a southern lady would almost as soon think of 
 eating in the barn as in her cook room. Like most 
 other planters, Mr. Livingstone's kitchen was separate 
 and at some little distance from the main building, 
 causing grandma to wonder "how the poor critters 
 managed to carry victuals back and to when it was cold 
 and slippery." 
 
 When Aunt Milly, who was up to ner elbows in 
 dough, saw her visitor approaching, she exclaimed, 
 "Lor'-a-mighty, if thar ain't ole miss coming straight 
 into this lookin' hole ! Jeff, you quit that ar' pokin' in 
 dem ashes, and knock Lion out dat kittle; does you 
 har? And you, Polly," speaking to a superannuated 
 negress who was sitting near the table, "you just shove 
 that ar' piece of dough I done save to bake for you 
 and me, under your char, whar she won't see it. " 
 
 Polly complied, and by this time Mrs. Nichols was 
 at the door, surveying the premises, and thinking how 
 differently she'd make things look after a little. 
 
 "Does missus want anything?" asked Aunt Milly, 
 and grandma replied : 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 73 
 
 "Yes, I want to know if 'taint nigh about noon." 
 
 This is a term never used among the blacks, and roli° 
 ing up her white eyes, Aunt Milly answered, "You 
 done got me now, sartin, for this chile know nothin' 
 what you mean more'n the deadest critter livin'. " 
 
 As well as she could, Mrs. Nichols explained her 
 meaning, and Aunt Milly replied : "Oh, yes, yes, I know 
 now. 'Is it most dinner timef Yes — dinner'll be done 
 ready in an hour,, We never has it till two no day and 
 when we has company not till three. " 
 
 Confident that she should starve Mrs. Nichols ad% 
 vanced a step or two into the kitchen whereupon Aunt 
 Milly commenced making excuses saying "she was 
 gwine to clar up one of these days, and then if Thomas 
 Jefferson and Marquis de Lafayette didn't quit thar 
 litterin' they'd cotch it. " 
 
 Attracted by the clean appearance of Aunt Polly who 
 not having to work, prided herself upon always being 
 neatly dressed Mrs. Nichols walked up to her and to 
 use a vulgar expression the two old ladies were soon 
 "hand-in-glove;" Mrs. Nichols informing her of her loss 
 and how sorry Nancy Scovandyke would feel when she 
 heard of it and ending by giving her the full particulars 
 of her husband's sickness and death. In return Aunt 
 Polly said that "she was born and bred along with ole 
 Marster Richards, Miss Matilda's father, and that she 
 too had buried a husband. " 
 
 With a deep sigh Mrs. Nichols was about to com- 
 miserate her when Aunt Polly cut her short by saying 
 " 'Twant of no kind o'count as she never relished him 
 much." 
 
 "Some drunken critter I warrant," thought Mrs. 
 Nichols, at the same time asking what his name was. 
 
 ''Jeems," said Aunt Polly. 
 
 l^jis was not definite enough for Mrs. Nichols, who 
 A&ked for the surname* " Jeems what?" 
 
74 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 "Jeems Atherton, I reckon, bein' he longed to ole 
 Marster Atherton," said Polly. 
 
 For a time Mrs. Nichols had forgotten her-hunger, 
 but the habit of sixty years was net so easily broken, and 
 she now hinted so strongly of the emptiness of her 
 stomach that Aunt Polly, emboldened by her familiar- 
 ity, said, "I never wait for the rest, but have my cup 
 of tea or coffee just when I feel like it, and if missus 
 wouldn't mind takin' a bite with a nigger, she's wel- 
 come." 
 
 "Say nothin' about it. We shall all be white in 
 heaven." 
 
 "Dat am de trufe," muttered Milly, mentally assign- 
 ing Mrs. Nichols a more exalted occupation than that of 
 turning hoe-cakes ! 
 
 Two cups and saucers were forthwith produced, Milly 
 acting as waiter for fear Aunt Polly would leave her 
 seat and so disclose to view the loaf of bread which had 
 been hidden under the chair. Some coffee was poured 
 from the pot, which still stood on the stove, and t nen 
 the little negroes, amused with the novelty of the thing, 
 ran shouting and yelling that, "ole miss was eatin' in 
 the kitchen 'long with Lion, Aunt Polly, and the other 
 dogs!" 
 
 The coffee being drank, Mrs. Nichols returned to the 
 house, thinking "what sights of comfort she should 
 take with Mrs. Atherton" whom she pronounced to be 
 "a likely, clever woman as ever was." 
 
 Scarcely had she reached her room when the dinner- 
 bell rang, every note falling like an ice-bolt on the heart 
 of 'Lena, who, though hungry like her grandmother, 
 still greatly dreaded the dinner, fearing her inability to 
 acquit herself creditably. Corinda had finished her 
 hair, and Anna, looking over her wardrobe and coming 
 upon the black dress which her father had purchased for 
 
*1:ena rivers. '75 
 
 her, had insisted upon 'Lena's wearing it. It was of 
 rather more modern make than any of her other dresses, 
 and when her toilet was completed, she looked uncom- 
 monly well. Still she trembled violently as Anna led 
 her to the dining room. 
 
 Neither Mrs. Nichols nor Mrs. Livingstone had yet 
 made their appearance, but the latter soon came lan- 
 guidly in, wrapped in a rose-colored shawl, which John 
 Jr. said "she wore to give a delicate tint to her yellow 
 complexion, " She was in the worst of humors, having 
 just been opening her husband's trunk, where she found 
 the numerous articles which had been stowed away by 
 Nancy Scovandyke. Very angrily she had ordered 
 them removed from her sight, and at this very moment 
 the little negroes in the yard were playing with the 
 cracked bellows, calling them a "blubber," and filling 
 them with water to see it run out ! 
 
 Except through the window, Mrs. Livingstone had 
 not yet seen 'Lena, and now dropping into her chair, 
 she never raised her eyes until Anna said, "Mother, 
 mother, this is 'Lena. Look at her. " 
 
 Thus importuned, Mrs. Livingstone looked up, and 
 the frown with which she was prepared to greet her 
 niece softened somewhat, for 'Lena was not a child to 
 be looked upon and despised. Plain and humble as 
 was her dress, there was something in her fine, open 
 face, which at once interested and commanded respect. 
 John Jr. had felt it; his father had felt it-, and his 
 mother felt it too, but it awoke in her a feeling of bit- 
 terness as she thought how the fair young girl before 
 her might in time rival her daughters. At a glance, 
 she saw that 'Lena was beautiful, and that it was quite 
 as much a beauty of intellect as of feature and form. 
 
 "Yes," thought sn«, "husband was right when he 
 said that, with the same advantages, she'd soon out 
 
$6 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 strip her cousins — but it shall never be — never," and 
 the white teeth shut firmly together, as the cold, proud 
 woman bowed a welcome. 
 
 At this moment Mrs. Nichols appeared. Stimulated 
 by the example of 'Lena, she, too, had changed her 
 dress, and now in black bombasine, white muslin cap, 
 and shining silk apron, she presented so respectable an 
 appearance that her son's face instantly brightened. 
 
 "Come, mother, we are waiting for you," said he, as 
 she stopped on her way to ask Vine, the fly girl, "how 
 she did, and if it wasn't hard work to swing them 
 feathers. " 
 
 Not being very bright, Vine replied with a grin, 
 "Dun know, miss." 
 
 Taking her seat next to her son, Mrs. Nichols said, 
 when offered a plate of soup, "I don't often eat broth; 
 besides that, I ain't much hungry, as I've just been 
 takin' a bite with Miss Atherton!" 
 
 "With whom?" asked Mr. Livingstone, John Jr., 
 Carrie and Anna, in the same breath. 
 
 "With Miss Polly Atherton, that nice old colored 
 lady in the kitchen," said Mrs. Nichols. 
 
 The scowl on Mrs. Livingstone's face darkened visi- 
 bly, while her husband, thinking it time to speak, said, 
 "It is my wish, mother, that you keep away from the 
 kitchen. It does the negroes no good to be meddled 
 with, and besides that, when you are hungry the serv- 
 ants will take you something." 
 
 "Accustomed to eat in the kitchen, probably," mut- 
 tered Carrie, with all the air of a young lady of twenty. 
 
 "Hold on to your nose, Cad," whispered John Jr., 
 thereby attracting his sister's attention to himself. 
 
 By this time the soup was removed, and a fine large 
 turkey appeared. 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 77 
 
 "What a noble great feller. Gobbler, ain't it?" asked 
 Mrs. Nichols, touching the turkey with the knife. 
 
 John Jr. roared, and was ordered from the table by 
 his father, while Lena, who stepped on her grand- 
 mother's toes to keep her from talking, was told by that 
 lady "to keep her feet still." Along with the dessert 
 came ice cream, which Mrs. Nichols had never before 
 tasted, and now fancying that she was dreadfully 
 burned, she quickly deposited her first mouthful upon 
 her plate. 
 
 "What's the matter, grandma? Can't you eat it?" 
 asked Anna. 
 
 "Yes, I kin eat it, but I don't hanker arter it," an- 
 swered her grandmother, pushing the plate aside. 
 
 Dinner being over, Mrs. Nichols returned to her 
 room, but soon growing wear}^, she started out to view 
 the premises. Coming suddenly upon a group of young 
 negroes, she discovered her bellows, the water dripping 
 from the nose, while a little farther on she espied 'Lena's 
 bonnet, which the negroes had at last succeeded in 
 catching, and which, wet as it was, now adorned the 
 head of Thomas Jefferson ! In a trice the old lady's 
 principles were forgotten, and she cuffed the negroes 
 with a right good will, hitting Jeff the hardest, and, 
 as a matter of course, making him yell the loudest. 
 Out came Aunt Milly, scolding and muttering about 
 "white folks tendin' to thar own business," and revers- 
 ing her decision with regard to Mrs. Nichols' position 
 in the next world. Cuff, the watch-dog, whose kennel 
 was close by, set up a tremendous howling, while John 
 Jr., always on hand, danced a jig to the sound of the 
 direful music. 
 
 "For Heaven's sake, husband, go out and see what's 
 the matter, " said Mrs. Livingstone, slightly alarmed all 
 the unusual noise. 
 
78 'LENA RIVEKS. 
 
 John complied, and reached the spot just in time ta 
 catch a glimpse of John Jr. 's heels as he gave the fin- 
 ishing touch to his exploit, while Mrs. Nichols, highly 
 incensed, marched from the field of battle with the bon- 
 net and bellows, thinking "if them niggers was only 
 bor'n they'd catch it '" 
 
'LENA RIVERS, 79 
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 MALCOLM EVERETT. 
 
 It would be tiresome both to ourselves and our read- 
 ers were we to enumerate' the many mortifications 
 which both Mr. and Mrs. Livingstone were compelled to 
 endure from their mother, who gradually came to 
 understand her true position in the family. One by 
 one her ideas of teaching them economy were given up, 
 as was also all hopes of ever being at all familiar with 
 her daughter, whom, at her son's request, she had 
 ceased to call " 'Tilda." 
 
 "Mebby you want me to say Miss Livingstone," said 
 she, "but I shan't. I'll call her Miss Nichols, or Ma- 
 tilda, just which she chooses." 
 
 Of course Mrs. Livingstone chose the latter, wincing, 
 though, every time she heard it. Dreading a scene 
 which he knew was sure to follow a disclosure of his 
 engagement with Miss Nancy, Mr. Livingstone had 
 requested his mother to keep it from his wife, and she, 
 appreciating his motive, promised secrecy, lamenting 
 the while the ill-fortune which had prevented Nancy 
 from being her daughter-in-law, and dwelling frequently 
 upon the comfort she should take were Nancy there in 
 Matilda's place. On the whole, however, she was tol- 
 erably contented ; the novelty of Kentucky life pleased 
 her, and at last, like most northern people, she fell in 
 with the habits of those around her. Still her Massa- 
 chusetts friends were not forgotten, and many a letter, 
 
80 *LENA RIVERS. 
 
 wonderful for its composition and orthography found 
 its way to Nancy Scovandyke, who wrote in return 
 that "some time or other she should surely visit Ken- 
 tucky," asking further if the "big bugs," didn't prefer 
 eastern teachers for their children, and hinting at her 
 desire to engage in that capacity when she came South ! 
 
 "Now, that's the very thing," exclaimed Mrs. Nichols 
 folding the letter, directed wrong side up, and resum- 
 ing her knitting. "Nancy's larnin' is plenty good 
 enough to teach Car'line and Anny, and I mean to 
 speak to John about it right away. " 
 
 "I wouldn't do any such thing," said 'Lena, seeing 
 at a glance how such a proposal would be received. 
 
 "Why not?" asked Mrs. Nichols, and 'Lena replied, 
 "I don't think Nancy would suit Aunt Livingstone at 
 all, and besides that, they've engaged a teacher, a Mr. 
 Everett, and expect him next week." 
 
 "You don't say so?" returned Mrs. Nichols. '''I 
 never hearn a word on't. Where 'bouts is he from, 
 and how much do they give him a week?" 
 
 The latter 'Lena knew nothing about, but she replied 
 that "she believed he was from Rockford, a village near 
 Rochester, New York. " 
 
 "Why, Nancy Sco Vandyke's sister lives there. I 
 wouldn't wonder if he knew her. " 
 
 "Very likely," returned 'Lena, catching her bonnet 
 and hurrying off to ride with Captain Atherton and 
 Anna. 
 
 As we have once before observed, Anna was a great 
 favorite with the captain, who had petted her until 
 John Jr. teased her unmercifully, calling him her gray- 
 haired lover, and the like. This made Anna exceed- 
 ing^ sensitive, and now when the captain called for her 
 to ride, as he frequently did, she refused to go unless 
 the invitation was al«io extended to 'Lena, who in this 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 81 
 
 way got many a pleasant ride around the country. She 
 was fast learning to like Kentucky, and would have 
 been very happy had her aunt and Carrie been a little 
 more gracious. But the former seldom spoke to her, 
 and the latter only to ridicule something which she said 
 or did. 
 
 Many and amusing were the disputes between the 
 two girls concerning their pecularities of speech, Carrie 
 bidding 'Lena "quit her Yankee habit of eternally 
 guessing," and 'Lena retorting that "she would when 
 Carrie stopped her everlasting reckoning. " To avoid 
 the remarks of the neighbors, who she knew were 
 watching her narrowly, Mrs. Livingstone had pur- 
 chased 'Lena two or three dresses, which, though greatly 
 inferior to those worn by Carrie and Anna, were still 
 fashionably made, and so much improved 'Lena's looks, 
 that her manners improved also, for what child does not 
 appear to better advantage when conscious of looking 
 well? More than once had her uncle's hand rested for 
 a moment on her brown curls, while his thoughts were 
 traversing the past, and in fancy his fingers were again 
 straying among the silken locks now resting in the 
 grave. It would seem as if the mother from her coffin 
 was pleading for her child, for all the better nature of 
 Mr. Livingstone was aroused ; and when he secured the 
 services of Mr. Everett, who was highly recommended 
 both as a scholar and gentleman, he determined that 
 'Lena should share the same advantages with his 
 daughters. To this Mrs. Livingstone made no serious 
 objection, for as Mr. Everett would teach in the house, 
 it would not do to debar 'Lena from the privilege of 
 attending his school; and as the highest position to 
 which she could aspire was to be governess in some 
 private family, she felt willing, she said, that she should 
 have a chance of acquiring the common branches. 
 
82 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 And now Mr. Everett was daily expected. Anna, 
 who had no fondness for books, greatly dreaded his 
 arrival, thinking within herself how many pranks she'd 
 pay off upon him, provided 'Lena would lend a helping 
 hand, which she much doubted. John Jr., too, who 
 for a time, at least, was to be placed under Mr. Everett's 
 instruction, felt in no wise eager for his arrival, fearing, 
 as he told 'Lena, that "between the 'old man' and the 
 tutor, he would be kept a little too straight for a gentle- 
 man of his habits ;" and it was with no particular emo- 
 tions of pleasure that he and Anna saw the stage stop 
 before the gate one pleasant morning toward the middle 
 of November. Running to one of the front windows, 
 Carrie, 'Lena, and Anna watched their new teacher, 
 each after her own fashion, commenting upon his ap- 
 pearance, 
 
 "Ugh!" exclaimed Anna, "what a green, boyish look- 
 ing thing! I reckon nobody's going to be afraid of 
 him. " 
 
 "I say he's real handsome," said Carrie, who, being 
 thirteen years of age, had already, in her own mind, 
 practised many a little coquetry upon the stranger. 
 
 "I like him," was 'Lena's brief remark. 
 
 Mr. Everett was a pale, intellectual looking man, 
 scarcely twenty years of age, and appearing still 
 younger, so that Anna was not wholly wrong when 
 she called him boyish. Still there was in his large 
 black eye a firmness and decision which bespoke the 
 man strong within him, and which put to flight all of 
 Anna's preconceived notions of rebellion. "With the 
 utmost composure he returned Mrs. Livingstone's greet- 
 ing, and the proud lady half -bit her lip with vexation 
 as she saw how little he seemed awed by her presence. 
 
 Malcolm Everett was not one to acknowledge super- 
 iority where there was none, and though ever polite 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 83 
 
 toward Mrs. Livingstone, there was something in his 
 manner which forbade her treating him as aught save 
 an equal. He was not to be trampled down, and for 
 once in her life Mrs. Livingstone had found a person 
 who would neither cringe to her nor flatter. The chil- 
 dren were not presented to him until dinner-time, when, 
 with the air of a young desperado, John Jr. marched into 
 the dining room, eying his teacher askance, calculating 
 his strength, and returning his greeting with a simple 
 nod. Mr. Everett scanned him from head to foot, and 
 then turned to Carrie, half -smiling at the great dignity 
 which she assumed. With 'Lena and Anna he seemed 
 better pleased, holding their hands and smiling down 
 upon them through rows of teeth which Anna pro- 
 nounced the whitest she had ever seen. 
 
 Mr. Livingstone was not at home, and when his 
 mother appeared, Mrs. Livingstone did not think proper 
 to introduce her. But if by this omission she thought 
 to keep the old lady silent, she was mistaken, for the 
 moment Mrs. Nichols was seated she commenced with, 
 "Your name is Everett, I b'lieve?" 
 
 "Yes, ma'am," said he, bowing very gracefully 
 toward her. 
 
 "Any kin to the governor that was?" 
 
 "No, ma'am, none whatever," and the white teeth 
 became slightly visible for a moment, but soon disap- 
 peared. 
 
 "You are from Rockford, 'Lena tells me?" 
 
 "Yes, ma'am. Have you friends there?" 
 
 "Yes— or that is, Nancy Scovansdyke's sister, Betsy 
 Scovandyke that used to be, lives there. Maybe you 
 know her. Her name is Bacon — Betsy Bacon. She's 
 a widder and keeps boarders." 
 
 "Ah," said he, the teeth this time becoming wholly 
 visible, "I've heard of Mrs. Bacon, but have not th© 
 
84 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 honor of her acquaintance. You are from the East, I 
 perceive. " 
 
 "Law, now! how did you know that?" asked Mrs. 
 Nichols, while Mr. Everett answered : 
 
 "I guessed at it," with a peculiar emphasis on the 
 word guessed, which led 'Lena to think he had used it 
 purposely and not from habit. 
 
 Mr. Everett possessed in a remarkable degree the 
 faculty of making those around him both respect and 
 like him, and ere six weeks had passed, he had won the 
 love of all his pupils. Even John Jr. was greatly 
 improved, and Carrie seemed suddenly reawakened into 
 a thirst for knowledge, deeming no task too long, and 
 no amount of stud}? - too hard, if it won the commenda- 
 tion of her teacher. 'Lena, who committed to memory 
 with great ease, and who, consequently did not deserve 
 so much credit for her always perfect lessons, seldom 
 received a word of praise, while poor Anna, notoriously 
 lazy when books were concerned, cried almost every 
 day, because, as she said, "Mr. Everett didn't like her 
 as he did the rest, else why did he look at her so much, 
 watching her all the while, and keeping her after school 
 to get her lessons over, when he knew how she hated 
 them. " 
 
 Once Mrs. Livingstone ventured to remonstrate, tell- 
 ing him that Anna was very sensitive, and required 
 altogether different treatment from Carrie. "She 
 thinks you dislike her," said she, "and while she retains 
 this impression, she will do nothing as far as learning is 
 concerned ; so if you do not like her, try and make her 
 think you do !" 
 
 There was a peculiar look in Mr. Everett's dark eyes 
 as he answered, "You may think it strange, Mrs. Liv- 
 ingstone, but of all my pupils I love Anna the best ! I 
 know I find more fault with her, and am, perhaps, more 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 85 
 
 severe -with her than with the rest, but it's because I 
 would make her what I wish her to be. Pardon me, 
 madam, but Anna does not possess the same amount of 
 intellect with her cousin or sister, but by proper culture 
 she will make a fine, intelligent woman." 
 
 Mrs. Livingstone hardly relished being told that one 
 child was inferior to the other, but she could not well 
 help herself — Mr. Everett would say what he pleased 
 — and thus the conference ended. From that time Mr. 
 Everett was exceedingly kind to Anna, wiping away the 
 tears which invariably came when told that she must 
 stay with him in the school-room after the rest were 
 gone ; then, instead of seating himself in rigid silence 
 at a distance until her task was learned, he would sit by 
 her side, occasionally smoothing her long curls and 
 speaking encouragingly to her as she pored over some 
 hard rule of grammar, or puzzled her brains with some 
 difficult problem in Colburn. Erelong the result of all 
 this became manifest. Anna grew fonder of her books, 
 more ready to learn, and — more willing to be kept after 
 school ! 
 
 Ah, little did Mrs. Livingstone think what she was 
 doing when she bade young Malcolm Everett make her 
 warm-hearted, impulsive daughter think he liked her J 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 SCHEMING. 
 
 "Mother, where's Lena's dress? Hasn't she got 
 any?" asked Anna, one morning, about two weeks be- 
 fore Christmas, as she bent over a promiscuous pile of 
 merinos, delaines, and plaid silks, her own and Carrie's 
 dresses for the coming holidays. "Say, mother, didn't 
 you buy 'Lena any?" 
 
 Thus interrogated, Mrs. Livingstone replied, "I 
 wonder if you think I'm made of money ! 'Lena is in- 
 debted to me now for more than she can ever pay. As 
 long as I give her a home and am at so much expense 
 in educating her, she of course can't expect me to dress 
 her as I do you. There's Carrie's brown delaine and 
 your blue one, which I intend to have made over fo* 
 her, and she ought to be satisfied with that, for they 
 are much better than anything she had when she came 
 here. " 
 
 And the lady glanced toward the spot where 'Lena 
 sat, admiring the new things, in which she had no share, 
 and longing to ask the question which Anna had asked 
 for her, and which had now been answered. John Jr. , 
 who was present, and who knew that Mr. Everett had 
 been engaged to teach in the family long before it was 
 known that 'Lena was coming, now said to his cousin, 
 who arose to leave, '"Yes, 'Lena, mother's a model of 
 generosity, and you'll never be able to repay her for her 
 kindness in allowing you to wear the girls' old duds, 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 87 
 
 which would otherwise be given to the blacks, and in 
 permitting you to recite to Mr. Everett, who, of course., 
 was hired on your account. " 
 
 The slamming together of the door as 'Lena left the 
 room brought the young gentleman's remarks to a 
 close, and wishing to escape the lecture which he saw 
 was preparing for him, he, too, made his exit. 
 
 Christmas was coming, and with it Durward Bell- 
 mont, and about his coming Mrs. Livingstone felt some 
 little anxiety. Always scheming, and always looking 
 ahead, she was expecting great results from this visit. 
 Durward was not only immensely wealthy, but was also 
 descended on his father's side from one of England's 
 noblemen. Altogether he was, she thought, a "decided 
 catch," and though he was now only sixteen, while 
 Carrie was but thirteen, life-long impressions had been 
 made at even an earlier period, and Mrs. Livingstone 
 resolved that her pretty daughter should at least have 
 all the advantages of dress with which to set off her 
 charms. Concerning Anna's appearance she cared less, 
 for she had but little hope of her, unless, indeed — but 
 'twas too soon to think of that — she would wait, and per- 
 haps in good time 'twould all come round naturally 
 and as a matter of course. So she encouraged her 
 daughter's intimacy with Captain Atherton, who, until 
 Malcolm Everett appeared, was in Anna's estimation the 
 best man living. Now, however, she made an exception 
 in favor of her teacher, "who," as she told the captain, 
 "neither wore false teeth, nor kept in his pocket a pair 
 of specs, to be slyly used when he fancied no one saw 
 him." 
 
 Captain Atherton coughed, colored, laughed, and say- 
 ing that ' ' Mr. Everett was a nicish kind of a boy, " swore 
 eternal enmity toward him, and under the mask of 
 friendship — watched ! Eleven years before, when Anna 
 
88 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 was a baby, Mrs. Livingstone had playfully told the 
 captain, who was one day deploring his want of a wife, 
 that if he would wait he should have her daughter. To 
 this he agreed, and the circumstance, trivial as it was, 
 made a more than ordinary impression upon his mind ; 
 and though he as yet had no definite idea that the 
 promise would ever be fulfilled, the little girl was to him 
 an object of uncommon interest. Mrs. Livingstone 
 knew this, and whenever Anna's future prospects were 
 the subject of her meditations, she generally fell back 
 upon that fact as an item not to be despised. 
 
 Now, however, her thoughts were turned into another 
 and widely different channel. Christmas week was to 
 be spent by Durward Bellmont partly at Captain Ather- 
 ton's and partly at her own house, and as Mrs. Liv- 
 ingstone was not ignorant of the effect a becoming dress 
 has upon a pretty face, she determined that Carrie 
 should, at least, have that advantage. Anna, too, was 
 to fare like her sister, while no thought was bestowed 
 upon poor 'Lena's wardrobe, until her husband, who 
 accompanied her to Frankfort, suggested that a certain 
 pattern, which he fancied would be becoming to 'Lena, 
 should be purchased. 
 
 With an angry scowl, Mrs. Livingstone muttered 
 something about "spending so much money for other 
 folks' young ones. " Then remembering the old delaines, 
 and knowing by the tone of her husband's voice that he 
 was in earnest, she quickly rejoined, "Why, 'Lena's 
 got two new dresses at home. " 
 
 Never doubting his wife'" - word, Mr. Livingstone 
 was satisfied, and nothing more was said upon the sub- 
 ject. Business of importance made it necessary for him 
 to go for a few weeks to New Orleans, and he was now 
 on his way thither, his wife having accompanied him as 
 far as Frankfort, where he took the boat, while she re- 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 89 
 
 turned home. When Lena left the room after learning 
 that she had no part in the mass of Christmas finery, 
 she repaired to the arbor bridge, where she had wept so 
 bitterly on the first day of her arrival, and which was 
 now her favorite resort. For a time she sat watching 
 the leaping waters, swollen by the winter rains, and 
 wondering if it were not possible that they started at 
 first from the pebbly spring which gushed so cool and 
 clear from the mountain side near her old New England 
 home. This reminded her of where and what she was 
 now — a dependent on the bounty of those who wished 
 her away, and who almost every day of her life made 
 her feel it so keenly, too. Not one among them loved 
 her except Anna, and would not her affection change 
 as they grew older? Then her thoughts took another 
 direction. Durward Bellmont was coming — but did she 
 she wish to see him? Could she bear the sneering re- 
 marks which she knew Carrie would make concerning 
 herself? And how would he be affected by them? 
 Would he ask her of her father? and if so, what had 
 she to say? 
 
 Many a time had she tried to penetrate the dark 
 mystery of her birth, but her grandmother was wholly 
 non-commital. Once, too, when her uncle seemed 
 kinder than usual, she had ventured to ask him of her 
 father, and with a frown he had replied, that "the least 
 she knew of him the better !" Still 'Lena felt sure that 
 he was a good man, and that some time or other she 
 would find him. 
 
 All day long the clouds had been threatening rain, 
 which began to fall soon after 'Lena entered the arbor, 
 but so absorbed was she in her own thoughts, that she 
 did not observe it until her clothes were perfectly 
 dampened ; then starting up, she repaired to the house. 
 For several days she had not been well, and this expos- 
 
90 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 ure brought on a severe cold, which confined her to hei 
 room for nearly two weeks. Meantime the dress-mak- 
 ing process went on, Anna keeping 'Lena constantly 
 apprised of its progress, and occasionally wearing in 
 some article for her inspection. This reminded 'Lena of 
 her own wardrobe, and knowing that it would not be 
 attended to while she was sick, she made such haste to 
 be well, that on Thursday at tea-time she took her ac- 
 customed seat at the table. After supper she lingered 
 awhile in the parlor, hoping something would be said, 
 but she waited in vain, and was about leaving, when a 
 few words spoken bv Carrie in an adjoining room 
 caught her ear and arrested her attention. 
 
 They were — "And so 'Lena came down to-night. I 
 dare say she thinks you will set Miss Simpson at work 
 upon my old delaine. " 
 
 "Perhaps so, "returned Mrs. Livingstone; "but I 
 don't see how Miss Simpson can do it, unless you put off 
 having that silk apron embroidered. " 
 
 "I shan't do any such thing," said Carrie, glad of an 
 excuse to keep 'Lena out of the way. "What matter is 
 it if she don't come down when the company are here? 
 I'd rather she wouldn't, for she's so green and awkward, 
 and Durward is so fastidious in such matters, that I'd 
 rather he wouldn't know she's a relative of ours ! I 
 know he'd tell his mother, and they say she is very 
 particular about his associates. " 
 
 'Lena's first impulse was to defy her cousin to her 
 face — to tell her she had seen Durward Bellmont, and 
 that he didn't laugh at her either. But her next thought 
 was calmer and more rational. Possibly under Carrie's 
 influence he might make fun of her, and resolving on 
 no condition whatever to make herself visible while he 
 was in the house, she returned to her room, and throw- 
 ing herself upon the bed, wept until she fell asleep. 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 9\ 
 
 "When is Miss Simpson going to fix 'Lena's dress?" 
 asked Anna, as day after day passed, and nothing was 
 said of the brown delaine. 
 
 For a instant Miss Simpson's nimble fingers were still, 
 as she awaited the answer to a question which had oc- 
 curred to her several times. She was a kind-hearted, 
 intelligent girl, and at a glance had seen how matters 
 stood. She, too, was an orphan, and her sympathies 
 were all enlisted in behalf of the neglected 'Lena. She 
 had heard from Anna of the brown delaine, and in her 
 own mind she had determined that it should be fitted 
 with the utmost taste of which she was capable. 
 
 Her speculations, however, were brought to a close 
 by Mrs. Livingstone saying, in reply to Anna, that 
 'Lena seemed so wholly uninterested, and cared so little 
 about seeing the company, she had decided not to have 
 the dress fixed until after Christmas week. 
 
 The fiery expression of two large, glittering eyes, 
 which at that moment peered in at the door, convinced 
 Miss Simpson that her employer had hardly told the 
 truth, and she secretly determined that 'Lena should 
 have the dress whether she would or not. Accordingly, 
 the next time she and Anna were alone, she asked for 
 the delaine, intrusting her secret to Anna, who, think- 
 ing no harm, promised to keep it from her mother. 
 But to get 'Lena fitted was a more difficult matter. 
 Her spirit was roused and for a time she resisted their 
 combined efforts. At last, however, she yielded, and 
 by working late at night in her own room, Miss Simpson 
 managed to finish the dress, in which 'Lena really looked 
 better than did either of her cousins in their garments 
 of far richer materials. Still she was resolved not to 
 go down, and Anna, fearing what her mother might 
 say, dared not urge her very strongly, hoping, though, 
 that "something would turn up." 
 
92 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 Durward Bellmont, Nellie Douglass, and Mabel Ross 
 had arrived at Captain Atherton's. Mrs. Livingstone 
 and her daughters had called upon them, inviting them 
 to spend a few days at Maple Grove, where they were 
 to meet some other young people, "selected from the 
 wealthiest families in the neighborhood," Mrs. Living- 
 stone said, at the same time patting the sallow cheek of 
 Mabel, whose reputed hundred thousand she intended 
 should one day increase the importance of her own 
 family. 
 
 The invitation was accepted — the day had arrived, 
 the guests were momentarily expected, and Carrie, be- 
 fore the long mirror, was admiring herself, alternately 
 frowning upon John Jr., who was mimicking her 
 "airs," and scolding Anna for fretting because 'Lena 
 could not be induced to join them. Finding that her 
 niece was resolved not to appear, Mrs. Livingstone, for 
 look's sake, had changed her tactics, saying, " 'Lena 
 could come down if she chose — she was sure there was 
 nothing to prevent. " 
 
 Knowing this, Anna had exhausted all her powers of 
 eloquence upon her cousin. But she still remained in- 
 exorable, greatly to the astonishment of her grand- 
 mother, who for several days had been suffering from 
 a rheumatic affection, notwithstanding which she 
 "meant to hobble down if possible, for," said she, "I 
 want to see this Durward Bellmont. Matilda says he's 
 got Noble blood in him. I used to know a family of 
 Nobles in Massachusetts, and I think like as not he's 
 some kin !" 
 
 Carrie, to whom this remark was made, communi- 
 cated it to her mother, who forthwith repaired to Mrs. 
 Nichols' room, telling her "That 'twas a childs' party," 
 and hinting pretty strongly that she was neither wanted 
 nor expected in the parlor, and would confer a great 
 favor by keeping aloof. 
 
■LENA RIVEK& 
 
 93 
 
 "Wall, wall," said Mrs; Nichols, who Had learned to 
 Aread her daughter's displeasure, "I'd as lief stay up 
 here as not, but I do want ''Lena to jine J em. She's 
 young, and would enjoy it." 
 
 Without a word of answer Mrs. Livingstone walked 
 away, leaving 'Lena more determined than ever not to 
 go down. When the evening at last arrived, Anna in- 
 sisted so strongly upon her wearing the delaine, for fear 
 of what might happen, that 'Lena consented, curling 
 her hair with great care, and feeling a momentary thrill 
 of pride as she saw how well she looked. 
 
 "When we get nicely to enjoying ourselves," said 
 Anna, "you come down and look through the glass 
 door, for I do want you to see Durward, he's so hand- 
 some — but there's the carriage — I must go ;" and away 
 ran Anna down the stairs, while 'Lena flew to one of 
 the front windows to see the company as they rode up. 
 
 First came Captain Atherton's carriage, and in it the 
 captain and his maiden sister, together with a pale, 
 sickly looking girl, whom 'Lena knew to be Mabel Ross. 
 Behind them rode Durward Bellmont, and at his side, 
 on a spirited little pony, was another girl, thirteen or 
 fourteen years of age, but in her long riding-dress look- 
 ing older, because taller. 'Lena readily guessed that 
 this was Nellie Douglass, and at a glance she recog- 
 nized the Durward of the cars — grown handsomer and 
 taller since then, she thought. With a nimble bound 
 he leaped from his saddle, kissing his hand to Carrie, 
 who, with her sunniest smile, ran past him to welcome 
 Nellie. A pang, not of jealousy, but of an undefined 
 something shot through 'Lena's heart, and dropping the 
 heavy curtain, she turned avvay, while the tears gath- 
 ered thickly in her large, brown eyes. 
 
 "Where's 'Lena," asked Captain Atherton, of Anna, 
 wanning his red fingers before the blazing grate, and 
 
94 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 looking round upon the group of girls who were gath« 
 ered near. 
 
 Glancing at her mother, Anna replied, "She says she 
 don't want to come down. " 
 
 "Bashful," returned the captain ; while Nellie Douglass 
 asked, "who 'Lena was," at the same time returning 
 the pinch which John Jr. , had slyly given her as a 
 mode of showing his preference, for Nellie was his 
 favorite. 
 
 Fearful of Anna's reply, Mrs. Livingstone answered 
 carelessly, "She's the child of one of Mr. Livingstone's 
 poor relations, and we've taken her awhile out of 
 charity. " 
 
 At any other time John Jr. would doubtless have 
 questioned his mother's word, but now so engrossed 
 was he with the merry, hoydenish Nellie, that he scarce- 
 ly heard her remark, or noticed the absence of 'Lena. 
 With the exception of his cousin, Nellie was the only 
 girl whom John Jr. could endure — "the rest," he said, 
 "were so stuck up and affected." 
 
 iTor Mabel Boss, he seemed to have a particular aver- 
 sion. Not because she was so very disagreeable, but 
 because his mother continually reminded him of what 
 she hoped would one day be, "and this," he said, "was 
 enough to make a 'feller' hate a girl." £'o, without 
 considering that Mabel was not to blame, he ridiculed 
 her unmercifully, calling her "a bundle of medicine," 
 and making fun of her thin, sallow face, which really 
 appeared to great disadvantage when contrasted with 
 Nellie's bright eyes, and round, rosy cheeks. 
 
 When the guests were all assembled, Carrie, not 
 knowing whether Durward Bellmont would relish 
 plays, seated herself demurely upon the sofa, prepared 
 to act the dignified young lady, or any other character 
 she mis b.t think necessary. 
 
 "Get up, Cad," said John Jr. "Nobody's going to 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 96 
 
 act like they were at a funeral; get up, and let's play 
 
 something." 
 
 As the rest seemed to be similarly inclined, Carrie 
 arose, and ere long the joyous shouts reached 'Lena, 
 making her half wish that she, too, was there. Re- 
 membering Anna's suggestion of looking through the 
 glass door, she stole softly down the stairs, and station- 
 ing herself behind the door, looked in on the scene. 
 Mr. Everett, usually so dignified, had joined in the 
 game, claiming "forfeits" from Anna more frequently 
 than was considered at all necessary by the captain, 
 who for a time looked jealously on, and then declaring 
 himself as young as any of them, joined them with a 
 right good will. 
 
 "Blind man's buff," was next proposed, and 'Lena's 
 heart leaped up, for that was her favorite game. John 
 Jr, was first blinded, but he caught them so easily that 
 all declared he could see, and loud were the calls for 
 Durward to take his place. This he willingly did, and 
 whether he could see or not, he suffered them to pass 
 directly under his hands, thus giving entire satisfaction. 
 On account of the heat of the rooms, Anna, on passing 
 the glass door, threw it open, and the next time Dur- 
 ward came round he marched directly into the hall, 
 seizing "Lena, who was trying to hide. 
 
 Feeling her long curls, he exclaimed "Anna, you are 
 caught. " 
 
 "Fo. I ain't Anna; let me go," said 'Lena, strug- 
 gling to escape. 
 
 This , brought all the girls to the spot, while Durward, 
 snatching the muffler from his eyes, looked down with 
 astonishment upon the trembling 'Lena, who would 
 have escaped Lad she not been so securely hemmed in. 
 
 "Ain't you ashamed, 'Lena, to be peeking?" askecl 
 Carrie, while Durward repeated — " 'Lena! ''Lena! I've 
 
96 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 seen her before in the cars between Springfield and 
 Albany, but how came she here?" 
 
 "She lives here — she's our cousin," said Anna, not- 
 withstanding the twitch given to her sleeve by Carrie, 
 who did not care to have the relationship exposed. 
 
 "Your cousin," said Durward, "and where's the old 
 lady who was with her?" 
 
 "The one she called granny?" asked John Jr., on 
 purpose to rouse up his fiery little cousin. 
 
 "No, I don't call her granny, neither — I've quit it," 
 said 'Lena angrily, adding, as a sly hit at Kentucky 
 talk, "she's up stars, sick with the rheumatism." 
 
 "Good," said Durward; "but why are you not down 
 here with us?" 
 
 "I didn't want to come," was her reply; and Dur- 
 ward, leading her into the parlor, continued, "but now 
 that you are here, you must stay. " 
 
 "Pretty, isn't she," said Nellie, as the full blaze of 
 the chandelier fell upon 'Lena. 
 
 "Rather-er," was Carrie's hesitating reply. 
 
 She felt annoyed that 'Lena should be in the parlor, 
 and provoked that Durward should notice her in any 
 way, and at the first opportunity she told him "how 
 much she both troubled and mortified them, by her vul- 
 garity and obstinacy," adding that "she had a most 
 violent temper. " 
 
 From Nellie she had learned that Durward particu- 
 larly disliked passionate girls, and for this reason she 
 strove to give him the impression that 'Lena was such 
 an one. Once or twice she fancied him half -inclined to 
 disbelieve her, as he saw how readily 'Lena joined in 
 their amusements, and how good-naturedly she bore 
 John Jr. 's teasing, and then she hoped something would 
 occur to prove her words true. Her wish was gratified. 
 
 The next day was dark and stormy, confining the 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 97 
 
 young people to the house. About 10 o'clock the negro 
 who had been to the post-office returned, bringing let- 
 ters for the family, among which was one for 'Lena, so 
 curious in its shape and superscription, that even the 
 negro grinned as he handed it out. 'Lena was not 
 then present, and Carrie, taking the letter, exclaimed, 
 ''Now if this isn't the last specimen from Yankeedom. 
 Just listen — "and she spelled out the direction — "To 
 Mis Hell-eny Rivers, state of Jcentucky, county of 
 ■woodford, Dorsey post offis, care of Mis nichals. " 
 
 Unobserved by any one, 'Lena had entered the par- 
 lor in time to hear every word, and when Carrie, chanc- 
 ing to espy her, held out the letter saying, "Here, 
 Helleny, I guess this came from down east," she darted 
 forward, and striking the letter from Carrie's hand, 
 stamped upon it with her foot, declaring "she'd never 
 open it in the world," and saying "they might do what 
 they pleased with it for all of her. " 
 
 "Read it — may we read it?" eagerly asked Carrie, 
 delighted to see 'Lena doing such justice to her reputa- 
 tion. 
 
 "Yes, read it!" almost screamed 'Lena, and before 
 any one could interpose a word, Carrie had broken the 
 seal and commenced reading, announcing first, that it 
 came from "Joel Slocum!" It was as follows: 
 
 "Dear Helleny, mebby you'll wonder when you see a 
 letter from me, but I'll be hanged if I can help 'ritin', 
 I am so confounded lonesome now you are gone, that I 
 dun know nothing what to do with myself. So I set 
 on the great rock where the saxefax grows, and think, 
 and think,, till it syems 's ef my head would bust open. 
 Wa'll, how do you git along down amongst them hea- 
 thenish Kentucks & niggers? I s'pose "there ain't no 
 great difference between 'em, is there? When I git a 
 little more larnin', I b'lieve I'll come down there to 
 keep school. O, I forgot to tell you that our old line 
 
98 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 back cow has got a calf — the prettiest little critter- 
 Dad has gin her to me, and I call her Helleny, I do, I 
 swow! And when she capers round, she makes me 
 think of the way you danced 'High putty Martin' the 
 time you stuck a sliver in your heel " 
 
 Up to this point 'Lena had stood immovable, amid 
 the loud shouts of her companions, but the fire of a 
 hundred volcanoes burned within and flashed from her 
 eyes. And now springing forward, she caught the let- 
 ter from Carrie's hand, and inflicting a long scratch 
 upon her forehead, fled from the room. Had not Dur- 
 ward Bellmont been present, Carrie would have flown 
 after her cousin, to avenge the insult, and even now 
 she was for a moment thrown off her guard, and start- 
 ing forward, exclaimed, "the tigress !" 
 
 Drawing his fine cambric handkerchief from his 
 pocket, Durward gently wiped the blood from her white 
 brow, saying, "Never mind. It is not a deep scratch." 
 
 "I wish 't was deeper," muttered John Jr. "You'd 
 no business to serve her so mean. " 
 
 An angry retort rose to Carrie's lips, but, just in time 
 to prevent its utterance, Durward also spoke, saying, 
 "It was too bad to tease her so, but we were all more 
 or less to blame, and I'm not sure but we ought to 
 apologize. " *< 
 
 Carrie felt that she would die, almost, before she'd 
 apologize to such as 'Lena, and still she thought it 
 might be well enough to give Durward the impression 
 that she was doing her best to make amends for her 
 fault. Accordingly, the next time her cousin appeared 
 in the parlor she was all smiles and affability, talking a 
 great deal to 'Lena, who returned very short but civil 
 answers, while her face wore a look which Durward 
 construed into defiance and hatred of everybody and 
 everything. 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 99 
 
 "Too passionate," thought he, turning from her to 
 Carrie, whose voice, modulated to its softest tones, 
 rang out clear and musical, as she sported and laughed 
 with her moody cousin, appearing the very essence of 
 sweetness and amiability. 
 
 Pity he could not have known how bitterly 'Lena had 
 wept over her hasty action — not because he witnessed 
 it, but because she knew it was wrong ! Pity he could 
 not have read the tear-blotted note, which she laid on 
 Carrie's work-box and in which was written, "I am 
 sorry Carrie, that I hurt you so. I didn't know what I 
 was about, but I will try and not get so angry again. " 
 Pity, too, that he did not see the look of contempt with 
 which Carrie perused this note; and when the two girls 
 accidentally met in the upper hall, and 'Lena laid her 
 hand gently on Carrie's arm, it is a thousand pities he 
 was not present to see how fiercely she was repulsed, 
 Carrie exclaiming : 
 
 "Get out of my sight! I hate you, and so do all of 
 them downstairs, Durward in particular. " 
 
 Had he known all this he would have thought differ- 
 ently of 'Lena, who, feeling that she was not wanted in 
 the parlor, kept herself entirely aloof, never again ap- 
 pearing during the remainder of his stay. Once Dur- 
 ward asked for her, and half -laughingly Carrie replied, 
 that "she had not yet recovered from her pouting fit." 
 Could he have known her real occupation, he might, 
 have changed his mind again. The stormy weather 
 had so increased Mrs. Nichols' rheumatic complaint, 
 that now, perfectly crippled, she lay as helpless as a 
 child, carefully nursed by 'Lena and old Aunt Polly, 
 who, spite of her own infirmities, had hobbled in to 
 wait upon her friend. Never but once did Mrs. Living- 
 stone go near her mother's sick-room — "the smell of 
 herbs made her faint," she said! But to do her justice, 
 
100 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 we must say that she gave Polly unqualified permission 
 to order anything she pleased for the invalid. 
 
 Toward the close of the third day, the company left, 
 Nellie Douglass, who really liked 'Lena, and wished to 
 bid her good-by, whispered to John Jr. , asking him to 
 show her the way to his cousin's room. No one except 
 members of the family had ever been in Mrs. Nichols' 
 apartment, and for a moment John Jr. hesitated, know- 
 ing well that Nellie could not fail to observe the con- 
 trast it presented to the other richly-furnished chambers. 
 
 "They ought to be mortified — it'll serve 'em right," 
 he thought at last, and motioning Nellie to follow him, 
 he silently led the way to his grandmother's room, 
 where their knock was answered by Aunt Polly's gruff 
 voice, which bade them "come in." 
 
 They obeyed, but Nellie started back when she saw 
 how greatly inferior was this room to the others around 
 it. In an instant her eye took in everything, and she 
 readily comprehended the whole. 
 
 "It isn't my doings, by a jug-full!" whispered John 
 Jr. , himself reddening as he noted the different articles 
 of furniture which had never before seemed so meager 
 and poor. 
 
 On the humble bed, in a half -upright position, lay 
 Mrs. Nichols, white as the snowy cap-border which 
 shaded her face. Behind her sat 'Lena, supporting her 
 head, and when Nellie entered, she was carefully push- 
 ing back the few gray locks which had fallen over the 
 invalid's forehead, her own bright curls mingling with 
 them, and resting, some on her neck, and some on her 
 grandmother's shoulder. A deep flush dyed her cheeks 
 when she saw Nellie, who thought she had never looked 
 upon a sight more beautiful. 
 
 "I did not know your grandmother was ill," said she, 
 
*LENA RIVERS. 101 
 
 coming forward and gently touching the swollen hand 
 which lay outside the counterpane. 
 
 Mrs. Nichols was not too ill to talk, and forthwith 
 she commenced a history of her malady, beginning at 
 the time she first had it when 'Lena's mother was a 
 year and a day old, frequently quoting Nancy Scovan- 
 dyke, and highly entertaining Nellie, who listened until 
 warned by the sound of the carriage, as it came round 
 to the door, that she must go. 
 
 "We are going back to Uncle Atherton's," said she, 
 "but I wanted to bid jou good -by, and ask you to 
 visit me in Frankfort with your cousins. Will you do 
 so?" 
 
 This was wholly unexpected to 'Lena, who, without 
 replying, burst into tears. Nellie hardly knew what to 
 do. She seldom cried herself — she did not like to see 
 others cry — and still she did not blame 'Lena, for she 
 felt that she could not help it. At last, taking her 
 hand, she bade her farewell, asking if she should not 
 carry a good-by to the others. 
 
 "Yes, to Mabel," said Lena. 
 
 "And not Durward?" asked Nellie. 
 
 With something of her old spirit, 'Lena answered, 
 "No; he hates me — Carrie says so." 
 
 "Cad's a fool," muttered John Jr., while Nellie re- 
 joined, "Durward never hated anybody, and even if he 
 did, he would not say so — I mean to tell him ;" and 
 with another good-by she was gone. 
 
 On the stairs she met Durward, who was looking for 
 her, and asked where she had been. 
 
 "To bid 'Lena good-by; don't you want to go, too?' 
 said Nellie. 
 
 "Why, yes, if you are sure she won't scratch my 
 eyes out," he returned gayly, following his cousin. 
 
 "I reckon I'd better tell 'Lena to come out into the 
 
102 *LENA RIVERS* 
 
 hall — she may not want you in there," said John Jr. 5 
 and hastening forward he told his cousin what was 
 wanted. 
 
 Oh, how 'Lena longed to go, but pride, and the re- 
 membrance of Carrie's words, prevented her, and coldly 
 answering, "No, I don't wish to see him," she turned 
 away to hide the tears and pain which those words had 
 cost her. 
 
 This visit to Grandma Nichols' room was productive 
 of some good, for John Jr. did not fail of repeating to 
 his mother the impression which he saw was made on 
 Nellie's mind, adding, that "though Durward did not 
 venture in, Nellie would of course tell him all about it. 
 And then," said he, "I wouldn't give much for his 
 opinion of your treatment of your mother." 
 
 Angry, because she felt the truth of what her son 
 said, Mrs. Livingstone demanded "what he'd have her 
 
 do?" 
 
 "Do?" he repeated, "give grandmother a decent 
 room, or else fix that one up, so it won't look like the 
 old scratch had been having a cotillion there. Paper 
 and paint it, and make it look decent. " 
 
 Upon this last piece of advice Mrs. Livingstone re- 
 solved to act, for recently several vague rumors had 
 reached her ear, touching her neglect of her mother-in- 
 law, and she began herself to think it just possible that 
 a little of her money would be well expended in adding 
 to the comfort of her husband's mother. Accordingly, 
 as soon as Mrs. Nichols was able to sit up, her room 
 underwent a thorough renovation, and though no great 
 amount of money was expended upon it. it was fitted 
 up with so much taste that the poor old lady, whom 
 John Jr. , 'Lena, and Anna had adroitly kept out of the 
 way until her room was finished, actually burst into 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 103 
 
 tears when first ushered into her light, airy apartment, 
 in which everything looked so cheerful and pleasant. 
 
 " 'Tilda has now and then a good streak," said she, 
 while Aunt Milly, who had taken a great deal of inter- 
 est in the repairing of the room, felt inclined to change 
 her favorite theory with regard to her mistress' future 
 condition. 
 
104 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 FIVE YEARS LATER. 
 
 And in the fair city of elms we again open the scene. 
 It was commencement at Yale, and the crowd which 
 filled the old Center church were listening breathlessly 
 to the tide of eloquence poured forth by the young 
 valedictorian. 
 
 Durward Bellmont, first in his studies, first in his 
 class, and first in the esteem of his fellow-students, had 
 been unanimously chosen to that post of honor, and as 
 the gathered multitude hung upon his words and gazed 
 upon his manly beauty, they felt that a better choice 
 could not well have been made. At the right of the 
 platform sat a group of ladies, friends it would seem, of 
 the speaker, for ever and anon his eyes turned in that 
 direction, and as if each glance incited him to fresh 
 efforts, his eloquence increased, until at last no sound 
 save that of his deep-toned voice was heard, so rapt was 
 every one in the words of the young orator. But when 
 his speech was ended, there arose deafening shouts of 
 applause, while bouquets fell in perfect showers at his 
 feet. Among them was one smaller and more elegant 
 than the rest, and as if it were more precious, too, 'twas 
 the first which Durward took from the floor. 
 
 "See, Carrie, he gives you the preference," whispered 
 one of the young ladies on the right ; and Carrie Liv- 
 ingstone, for she it was, felt a thrill of gratified pride, 
 when she saw how carefully he guarded the bouquet, 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 105 
 
 which during all the exercises she had made her special 
 care, calling attention to it in so many different ways 
 that hardly any one who saw it in Durward's possession, 
 could fail of knowing from what source it came. 
 
 But then everybody said they were engaged — so 
 what did it matter? Everybody but John Jr., who 
 was John Jr. still, and who, while openly denying the 
 engagement, teasingly hinted "that 'twas no fault of 
 Cad's." 
 
 For the last three years Carrie, Nellie, Mabel and 
 Anna had been inmates of the seminary in New Haven, 
 and as they were now considered sufficiently accom- 
 plished to enter at once upon all the gayeties of fashion- 
 able life, John Jr. had come on "to see the elephant," 
 as he said, and to accompany them home. Carrie had 
 fulfilled the promise of her girlhood, and even her 
 brother acknowledged that she was handsome in spite 
 of her nose, which, like everybody's else, still continued 
 to be the most prominent feature of her face ! She was 
 proud, too, as well as beautiful, and throughout the city 
 she was known as the "haughty southern belle," ad- 
 mired by some and disliked by many. Among the 
 students she was not half so popular as her unpretend- 
 ing sister, whose laughing blue eyes and sunny brown 
 hair were often toasted, together with the classical brow 
 and dignified bearing of Nellie Douglass, who had lost 
 some of the hoydenish propensities of her girlhood, and 
 who was now a graceful, elegant creature just merging 
 into nineteen — the pride of her widowed father, and the 
 idol still of John Jr. , whose boyish preference had rip- 
 ened into a kind of love such as only he could feel. 
 
 With poor Mabel Ross it had fared worse ; her plain 
 face and dumpy little figure never receiving the least 
 attention except from Durward Bellmont, who, pitying 
 her lonely condition, frequently left more congenial 
 
106 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 society for the sake of entertaining her. Of any one else 
 Carrie would have been jealous, but feeling sure that 
 Mabel had no attraction save her wealth, and knowing 
 that Durward did not care for that, she occasionally 
 suffered him to leave her side, always feeling amply 
 repaid by the evident reluctance with which he left her 
 society for that of Mabel's. 
 
 "When ill-naturedly rallied by his companions upon 
 his preference for Carrie, Durward would sometimes 
 laughingly refer them to the old worn-out story of the 
 fox and the grapes, for to scarcely any one save himself 
 did Carrie think it worth her while to be even gracious. 
 This conduct was entirely at variance with her natural 
 disposition, for she was fond of admiration, come from 
 what source it might, and she would never have been 
 so cold and distant to all save Durward, had she not 
 once heard him say that "he heartily despised a flirt, 
 and that no young lady could at all interest him, if he 
 suspected her of being a coquette. " 
 
 This, then, was the secret of her reserve. She was 
 resolved upon winning Durward Bellmont, deeming no 
 sacrifice too great if in the end it secured the prize. It 
 is true there was one sophomore, a perfumed, brainless 
 fop, from Rockford, N. Y., who, next to Durward, was 
 apparently most in favor ; but the idea of her entertain- 
 ing even a shadow of a liking for Tom Lakin, was too 
 ludicrous to be harbored for a moment, so his attentions 
 went for naught, public opinion uniting in giving her to 
 Mr. Bellmont. 
 
 With the lapse of years, Anna too, had greatly im- 
 proved. The extreme delicacy of her figure was gone, 
 and though her complexion was as white and pure as 
 marble, it denoted perfect health. With John Jr. she 
 was still the favorite sister, the one whom he loved the 
 best. "Carrie was too stiff and proud," he said, and 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 107 
 
 though when he met her in New Haven, after a year's 
 absence, his greeting was kind and brotherly, he soon 
 turned from her to Anna and Nellie, utterly neglecting 
 Mabel, who turned away to her chamber to cry, be- 
 cause no one cared for her. 
 
 Frequently had his mother reminded him of the im- 
 portance of securing a wealthy bride, always finishing 
 her discourse by speaking of Mr. Douglass' small income 
 and enlarging upon the immense wealth of Mabel Ross, 
 whose very name had become disagreeable to John Jr. 
 At one time his father had hoped he, too, would enter 
 college, but the young man derided the idea of his ever 
 making a scholar, saying, however, more in sport than 
 in earnest, that "he was willing to enter a store, or 
 learn a trade, so that in case he was ever obliged to 
 earn his own living he would have some means of doing 
 it ;" but to this his mother would not listen. He was 
 her "darling boy," and his hands, soft and white as 
 those of a girl, should never become hardened and em- 
 browned by labor ! So, while his sisters were away at 
 school, he was at home, hunting, fishing, riding, teas- 
 ing his grandmother, tormenting the servants, and 
 shocking his mother by threatening to make love to his 
 cousin 'Lena, to whom he was at once a p^st and a 
 comfort, and who now claims a share of our attention 
 
 When it was decided to send Carrie and Anna to 
 New Haven, Mr. Livingstone proposed that 'Lena 
 should also accompany them, but this plan Mrs. Liv- 
 ingstone opposed with all her force, declaring that her 
 money should never be spent in educating the "beg- 
 garly relatives" of her husband, who in this, as in 
 numerous other matters, was forced to yield the point. 
 
 As Mr. Everett's services were now no longer needed 
 he accepted the offer of a situation in the family of 
 General Fontaine, a high-bred, southern gentleman 
 
108 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 whose plantation was distant but half a mile from 
 "Maple Grove ;" and as he there taught a regular school 
 having under his charge several of the daughters of the 
 neighboring planters, it was decided that 'Lena also 
 should continue under his instruction. 
 
 Thus while Carrie and Anna were going through the 
 daily routine of a fashionable boarding-school, 'Lena 
 was storing her mind with useful knowledge, and 
 though her accomplishments were not quite so showy 
 as those of her cousins, they had in them the ring of 
 the pure metal. Although her charms were as yet but 
 partially developed, she was a creature of rare love- 
 liness, and many who saw her for the first time, mar- 
 veled that aught so beautiful could be real. She had 
 never seen Durward Bellmont since that remarkable 
 Christmas week, but many a time had her cheeks 
 flushed with a feeling which she could not define as she 
 read Anna's accounts of the flattering attentions which 
 he paid to Carrie, who, when at home, still treated her 
 with haughty contempt or cool indifference. 
 
 But for this she did not care. She knew she was 
 loved by Anna, and liked by John Jr. , and she hoped 
 ■ — nay, half -believed- that she was not wholly indiffer- 
 ent to her uncle who, while he seldom made any show 
 of nis affection, still in his heart admired and felt proud 
 of her. With his wife it was different. She hated 
 'Lena — hated her because she was beautiful and tal- 
 ented, and because in her presence Carrie and Anna 
 were ever in the shade. Still her niece was too general 
 a favorite in the neighborhood to allow of open hostility 
 at home, and so the proud woman ground together her 
 glittering teeth — and waited! 
 
 Among the many who admired 'Lena, there was no 
 one who gave her such full and unbounded homage as 
 did her grandmother, whose life at Maple Grove had 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 109 
 
 been one of shadow, seldom mingled with sunshine. 
 Gradually had she learned the estimation in which she 
 was held by her son's wife, and she felt how bitter it 
 was to eat the bread of dependence. As far as she 
 was able, 'Lena shielded her from the sneers of her 
 aunt, who, thinking she had done all that was required 
 of her when she fixed their room, would for days and 
 even weeks appear utterly oblivious of their presence, 
 or frown darkly whenever chance threw them in her 
 way. She had raised no objection to 'Lena's continu- 
 ing a pupil of Mr. Everett, who, she hoped, would not 
 prove indifferent to her charms, fancying that in this 
 way she would sooner be rid of one whom she feared as 
 a rival of her daughters. 
 
 But she was mistaken ; for much as Malcolm Everett 
 might admire 'Lena, another image than hers was en- 
 shrined in his heart, and most carefully guarded was 
 the little golden curl, cut in seeming sport from the 
 head it once adorned, and now treasured as a sacred 
 memento of the past. Believing that it would be so be- 
 cause she wished it to be so, Mrs. Livingstone had more 
 than once whispered to her female friends her surmises 
 that Malcolm Everett would marry 'Lena, and at the 
 time of which we are speaking, it was pretty generally 
 understood that a strong liking, at least, if not an en- 
 gagement, existed between them. 
 
 Old Captain Atherton, grown more smooth and 
 portly, rubbed his fat hands complacently, and while 
 applying Twigg's Preparation to his hair, congratulated 
 himself that the only rival he had ever feared was now 
 out of his way. Thinking, too, that 'Lena had con- 
 ferred a great favor upon himself by taking Mr. Everett 
 from off his mind, he became exceedingly polite to her, 
 making her little presents, and frequently asking her to 
 ride. Whenever these invitations were accepted, they 
 
110 'LENA RIVERS, 
 
 were sure to be followed by a ludicrous description to 
 Anna, who laughed merrily over her cousin's letters, 
 declaring herself half -jealous of her "gray- haired 
 lover," as she termed the captain. 
 
 All such communications were eagerly seized by Car- 
 rie, and fully discussed in the presence of Durward, 
 who gradually received the impression that 'Lena was 
 a flirt, a species of womankind which he held in great 
 abhorrence. Just before he left New Haven, he re- 
 ceived a letter from his step-father, requesting him to 
 stop for a day or two at Captain Atherton's, where he 
 would join him, as he wished to look at a country-seat 
 near Mr. Livingstone's which was now for sale. This 
 plan gave immense satisfaction to Carrie, and when her 
 brother proposed that Durward should stop at their 
 father's instead of the captain's, she seconded the invi- 
 tation so warmly, that Durward finally consented, and 
 word was immediately sent to Mrs, Livingstone to hold 
 herself in readiness to receive Mr. Bellmont. 
 
 "Oh, I do hope your father will secure Woodlawn," 
 said Carrie, as, in the parlor of the Burnett House, Cin- 
 cinnati, they were discussing the projected purchase. 
 
 The other young ladies had gone out shopping, and 
 John Jr. , who was present, and who felt just like teas- 
 ing his sister, replied, "What do you care? Mrs. 
 Graham has no daughters, and she won't fancy such a 
 chit as you ; so it must be Durward's society that you 
 so much desire, but I can assure you that your nose will 
 be broken when once he sees our 'Lena. " 
 
 Carrie turned toward the window to hide her wrath 
 at this speech, while Durward asked if "Miss Rivers 
 were so very handsome?" 
 
 "Handsomer repeated John. "That don't begin to 
 express it. Cad is what I call handsome, but 'Lena is 
 beautiful, more beautiful, most beautiful — now you 
 
'LENA RIVERS. Ill 
 
 have it superlatively. Such complexion — such eyes — 
 such hair — I'll be hanged if I ha vent been more than 
 half in love with her myself. " 
 
 "I really begin to tremble," said Durward laugh- 
 ingly, while Carrie rejoined : 
 
 "You've only to make the slightest advance, and 
 your love will be returned tenfold, for 'Lena is very 
 susceptible, and already encourages several admirers. " 
 
 "There, my fair sister, you are slightly mistaken," 
 interrupted John Jr. , who was going on farther in his 
 remarks, when Durward asked if "she ever left any 
 marks of her affection," referring to the scratch she had 
 given Carrie; who before her brother had time to speak, 
 replied that "the ivill and the claws remained the same, 
 though common decency kept them hidden when it was 
 necessary. " 
 
 "That's downright slander," said John Jr., deter- 
 mined now upon defending his cousin. " 'Lena has a 
 high temper, I acknowledge, but she tries hard to gov- 
 ern it, and for nearly two years I've not seen her angry 
 once, though she's had every provocation under 
 heaven." 
 
 "She knows when and where to be amiable," retorted 
 Carrie. "Any one of her admirers would tell the same 
 story with yourself. " 
 
 At this juncture John Jr. was called for a moment 
 from the room, and Carrie, fearing she had said too 
 much, immediately apologized to Durward, saying, "it 
 was not often that she allowed herself to speak against 
 her cousin, and that she should not have done so now, 
 were not John so much blinded, that her mother, know- 
 ing 'Lena's ambitious nature, sometimes seriously feared 
 the consequence. ' ' I know, " said she, ' ' that John fancies 
 Nellie, but 'Lena's influence over him is very great. " 
 
 Durward made no reply, and Carrie continued: "I'm 
 
US 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 always sorry when I speak against 'Lena ; she is my 
 cousin, and I wouldn't prejudice any one against her; 
 so you must forget my unkind remarks, which would 
 never have been uttered in the presence of a stranger. 
 She is handsome and agreeable, and you must like her 
 in spite of what I said. " 
 
 "I cannot refuse when so fair a lady pleads her 
 cause," was Durward's gallant answer, and, as the other 
 young ladies then entered the room, the conversation 
 ceased. 
 
 Meanwhile 'Lena was very differently employed. 
 Nearly a year had elapsed since she had seen her cous- 
 ins, and her heart bounded with joy at the thought of 
 meeting Anna, whom she dearly loved. Carrie was to 
 her an object of indifference, rather than dislike, and 
 ofttimes had she thought, "If she would only let me 
 love her." But it could not be, for there was no affinity 
 between them. Carrie was proud and overbearing — 
 jealous of her high-spirited cousin, who, as John Jr. 
 had said, strove hard to subdue her temper, and who 
 now seldom resented Carrie's insults, except when they 
 were leveled at her aged grandmother. 
 
 As we have before stated, news had been received at 
 Maple Grove that Durward would accompany her cous- 
 ins homa Mr. Graham would, of course, join him 
 there, and accordingly, extensive preparations were 
 immediately commenced. An unusual degree of sick- 
 ness was prevailing among the female portion of Mrs. 
 Livingstone's servants, and the very day before the 
 company was expected, Aunt Milly, the head cook, was 
 taken suddenly ill. Coaxing, scolding, and threatening 
 were alike ineffectual. The old negress would not say 
 she was well when she wasn't, and as Hagar, the next 
 in command, was also sick {lazy, as her mistress called 
 it), Mrs. Livingstone was herself obliged to superintend 
 the cookery. 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 113 
 
 "Grosser than a bar," as the little darkies said, she 
 flew back and forth, from kitchen to pantry, her bunch 
 of keys rattling, the corners of her mouth drawn back, 
 and her hands raised ready to strike at anything that 
 came in her way. As if there were a fatality attending 
 her movements, she was unfortunate in whatever she 
 undertook. The cake was burned black, the custard 
 curdled, the preserves were found to be working, th© 
 big preserve dish got broken, a thunder shower soured 
 the cream, and taking it all in all, she really had trouble 
 enough to disconcert the most experienced housekeeper. 
 Still, the few negroes able to assist, thought "she 
 needn't be so fetch-ed cross. " 
 
 But cross she was, feeling more than once inclined 
 to lay witchcraft to the charge of old Milly, who, com- 
 fortably ensconced in bed, listened in dismay to the dis- 
 astrous accounts brought her from time to time from 
 the kitchen, mentally congratulating herself the while 
 upon not being within hearing of her mistress' tongue. 
 Once Mrs. Nichols attempted to help, but she was re- 
 pulsed so angrily that 'Lena did not presume to offer 
 her services until the day of their arrival, when, with- 
 out a word, she repaired to the chambers, which she 
 swept and dusted, arranging the furniture, and making 
 everything ready for the comfort of the travelers. 
 Then descending to the parlors, she went through the 
 same process there, filled the vases with fresh flowers, 
 looped back the curtains, opened the piano, wheeled the 
 sofa a little to the right, the large chair a little to the 
 left, and then going to the dining room, she set the 
 table in the most perfect order, doing all so quietly that 
 her aunt knew nothing of it until it was done. Jake, 
 the coachman, had gone down to Frankfort after them, 
 and as he was not expected to return until between 
 three and four, dinner was deferred until that hour. 
 
114: 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 From sunrise Mrs. Livingstone had worked industri- 
 ously, until her face and temper were at a boiling heat. 
 The clock was on the point of striking three, and she 
 was bending over a roasting turkey, when Lena ven- 
 tured to approach her saying, "I have seen Aunt Milly 
 baste a turkey many a time, and I am sure I can do as 
 well as she. " 
 
 "Well, what of it?" was the uncivil answer. 
 
 'Lena's temper choked her, but forcing it down, she 
 replied: "Why, it is almost three, and I thought per- 
 haps you would want to cool and dress yourself before 
 they came. I can see to the dinner, I know I can. 
 Please let me try." 
 
 Somewhat mollified by her niece's kind manner, MrSr 
 Livingstone resigned her post and repaired to her own 
 room, while 'Lena, confining her long curls to the top of 
 her head and donning the wide check-apron which her 
 aunt had thrown aside, set herself at work with a right 
 good will. 
 
 "What dat ar you say?" exclaimed Aunt Milly, lift- 
 ing her woolly head from her pillow, and looking at the 
 little colored girl, who had brought to her the news that 
 "young miss was in de kitchen." "What dar ar you 
 tellin'? Miss 'Leny pokin' 'mong de pots and kittles, 
 and dis old nigger lazin' in bed jes like white folks. 
 Long as 'twas ole miss, I didn't keer. Good 'nough for 
 her to roast, blister, and bile ; done get used to it, case 
 she's got to in kingdom come, no mistake — he! — he! 
 But little Miss 'Leny, it's too bad to bake her lambs- 
 wool hands and face, and all de quality comin'; I'll 
 hobble up thar, if I can stand. " 
 
 Suiting the action to the word she got out of bed, and 
 crawling up to the kitchen, insisted upon taking 'Lena's 
 place, saying, "she could sit in her chair and tell the 
 rest what to do." 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 115 
 
 For a time 'Lena hesitated, the old woman seemed so 
 faint and weak, but the sound of wheels decided her. 
 Springing to the sideboard in the dining room, she 
 brought Aunt Milly a glass of wine, which revived her 
 so much that she now felt willing to leave her. By 
 this time the carriage was at the door, and to escape 
 unobserved was now her great object. But this she 
 could not do, for as she was crossing the hall, Anna 
 espied her, and darting forward, seized her around the 
 neck, at the same time dragging her toward Carrie, 
 who, with Durward's eye upon her, kissed her twice , 
 then turning to him, she said, "I suppose you do not 
 need an introduction to Miss Rivers?" 
 
 Durward was almost guilty of the rudeness of start- 
 ing at the strangeness of 'Lena's appearance, for as 
 nearly as she could, she looked like a fright. Bending 
 over hot stoves and boiling gravies is not very bene- 
 ficial to one's complexion, and 'Lena's cheeks, neck, 
 forehead, and nose were of a purplish red — her hair was 
 tucked back in a manner exceedingly unbecoming, 
 while the broad check-apron, which came nearly to her 
 feet, tended in no wise to improve her appearance. She 
 felt it keenly, and after returning Durward's salutation, 
 she broke away before Anna or John Jr., who were 
 both surprised at her looks, had time to ask a question. 
 
 Running up to her room, her first impulse was to cry, 
 but knowing that would disfigure her still more, she 
 bathed her burning face and neck, brushed out her 
 cmls, threw on a simple muslin dress, and started for 
 the parlor, of which Durward and Carrie were at that 
 moment the only occupants. As she was passing the 
 outer door, she observed upon cne of the piazza pillars 
 a half blown rose, and for a moment stopped to admire 
 it. Durward, who sat in a corner, did not see her, but 
 Carrie did, and a malicious feeling prompted her to 
 
116 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 draw out her companion, who she felt sure was disap- 
 pointed in 'Lena's face. They were speaking of a lady 
 whom they saw at Frankfort, and whom Carrie pro- 
 nounced "perfectly beautiful," while Durward would 
 hardly admit that she was even good-looking. 
 
 "I am surprised at your taste," said Carrie, adding, 
 as she noticed the proximity of her cousin, "I think 
 she resembles 'Lena, and of course you'll acknowledge 
 she is beautiful. " 
 
 ''She ivas beautiful five years ago, but she's greatly 
 changed since then," answered Durward, never suspect- 
 ing the exquisite satisfaction his words afforded Carrie, 
 who replied, "You had better keep that opinion to your- 
 self, and not express it before Captain Atherton or 
 brother John." 
 
 "Who takes my name in vain?" asked John Jr., him- 
 self appearing at a side door. 
 
 "Oh, John," said Carrie, "we were just disputing 
 about 'Lena. Durward does not think her handsome. " 
 
 "Durward be hanged!" answered John, making a 
 feint of drawing from his pocket a pistol which was not 
 there. "What fault has he to find with Lena?" 
 
 "A little too rosy, that's all," said Durward laugh- 
 ingly, while John continued : 
 
 "She did look confounded red and dowdyish, for her. 
 I don't understand it myself." 
 
 Here the hem of the muslin dress on which Carrie's 
 eye had all the while been resting, disappeared, and as 
 there was no longer an incentive for ill-natured remarks, 
 the amiable young lady adroitly changed the conversa- 
 tion. 
 
 John Jr. also caught a glimpse of the retreating 
 figure, and started in pursuit, in the course of his search 
 passing the kitchen, where he was instantly hailed by 
 Aunt Milly, who, while bemoaning her own aches and 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 117 
 
 pains, did not fail to tell him how "Miss 'Lena, like a 
 homed angel dropped right out of 'tarnity, had heen in 
 thar, burning her sMn to a fiery red, a-tryin' to get up 
 a tip-top dinner. " 
 
 "So ho!" thought the young man, "that explains it;" 
 and turning on his heel, he walked back to the house 
 just as the last bell was ringing for dinner. 
 
 On entering the dining room, he found all the family 
 assembled except 'Lena. She had excused herself on 
 the plea of a severe headache, and now in her own room 
 was chiding herself for being so much affected by a 
 remark accidentally overheard. What did she care if 
 Durward did think her plain? He was nothing to her, 
 and never would be — and again she bathed her head, 
 which really was aching sadly. 
 
 "And so 'Lena's got the headache," said John Jr._ 
 "Well, I don't wonder, cooking all the dinner as she 
 did." 
 
 "What do you mean?", asked Anna, while Mrs. Liv- 
 ingstone's angry frown bade her son keep silence. 
 
 Filial obedience, however, was not one of John Jr. 's 
 cardinal virtues, and in a few words, he repeated what 
 Aunt Milly had told him, adding aside to Durward, 
 ii This explains the extreme rosiness which so much 
 offended your lordship. When next you see her, you'll 
 change your mind." 
 
 Suddenly remembering that his grandmother had not 
 been introduced, he now presented her to Durward c 
 The Noble's blood had long been forgotten, but grand- 
 ma was never at a loss for a subject, and she com- 
 menced talking, notwithstanding Carrie's effort to keep 
 her still. 
 
 "Now I think on't, Car'line," said she at last, turn- 
 ing to her granddaughter, "Now I think on't, what 
 made you propose to have my dinner sent up to my 
 
118 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 room. I hain't et there but once this great while, and 
 that was the day General Fontaine's folks were here, 
 and Matilda thought I warn't able to come down. " 
 
 Durward's half -concealed smile showed that he under- 
 stood it all, while John Jr., in his element when his 
 grandmother was talking, managed to lead her on, until 
 she reached her favorite theme — Nancy Scovandyke. 
 Here a look from her son silenced her, and as dinner 
 was just then over, Durward missed of hearing that re- 
 markable lady's history. 
 
 Late in the afternoon, as the family were sitting upon 
 the piazza, 'Lena joined them. Her headache had 
 passed away, leaving her face a shade whiter than 
 usual. The flush was gone from her forehead and 
 nose, but mindful of Durward's remark, the roses deep- 
 ened on her cheek, which only increased her loveliness. 
 
 "I acknowledge that I was wrong — your cousin is 
 beautiful, " whispered Durward to Carrie, who, mentally 
 hating the beauty which had never before struck her so 
 forcibly, replied in her softest tones, "I knew you 
 would, and I hope you'll be equally ready to forgive 
 her for winning hearts only to break them, for with that 
 face how can she help it?" 
 
 "A handsome face is no excuse for coquetry," an- 
 swered Durward; "neither can I think Miss Rivers 
 guilty of it. At all events, I mean to venture a little 
 nearer," and before Carrie could frame a reasonable 
 excuse for keeping him at her side, he had crossed over 
 and taken a seat by 'Lena, with whom he was soon in 
 the midst of an animated conversation, his surprise each 
 moment increasing at the depth of intellect she dis- 
 played, for the beauty of her mind was equal to that of 
 her person. Had it not been for the remembrance of 
 Carrie's insinuations, his admiration would have been 
 complete. But anything like coquetry he heartily de- 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 119 
 
 spised, and one great secret of his liking for Carrie, was 
 her evident freedom from that fault. As yet. he had 
 seen nothing to condemn in 'Lena's conduct. Wholly 
 unaffected, she talked with him as she would have 
 talked with any stranger, and still there was in her 
 manner a certain coldness for which he could not 
 account. 
 
 "Perhaps she thinks me not worth the winning," 
 thought he, and in spite of his principles, he erelong 
 found himself exerting all his powers to please and in- 
 terest her. 
 
 About tea-time, Captain Atherton rode into the yard, 
 and simultaneously with his arrival, Mr. Everett came 
 also. Immediately remembering what he had heard, 
 Durwardj in his eagerness to watch 'Lena, failed to 
 note the crimson flush on Anna's usually pale cheek, as 
 Malcolm bent over her with his low-spoken, tender 
 words of welcome, and when the phthisicky captain, 
 claiming the privilege of an old friend, kissed the blush- 
 ing Anna, Durward in his blindness attributed the 
 scornful expression of 'Lena's face to a feeling of un- 
 willingness that any save herself should share the atten- 
 tions even of the captain ! And in this impression he 
 was erelong confirmed. 
 
 Drawing his chair up to Anna, Captain Atherton 
 managed to keep Malcolm at a distance, while he him- 
 self wholly monopolized the young girl, who cast im- 
 ploring glances toward her cousin, as if asking for re- 
 lief. Many a time, on similar occasions, had 'Lena 
 claimed the attention of the captain, for the sake of 
 leaving Anna free to converse with Malcolm, and now 
 understanding what was wanted of her, she nodded in 
 token that she would come to the rescue. Just then, 
 Mrs. Livingstone, who had kept an eye upon her niece, 
 drew near, and as she seemed to want a seat, 'Lena 
 
120 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 instantly arose and offered hers, going herself to the 
 place where the captain was sitting. Erelong, her 
 lively sallies and the captain's loud laugh began to at- 
 tract Mrs. Livingstone's attention, and observing that 
 Durward's eyes were frequently drawn that way, she 
 thought proper to make some remarks concerning the 
 impropriety of her niece's conduct. 
 
 "I do wish," said she, apparently speaking more to 
 herself than to Durward, "I do wish 'Lena would ieam. 
 discretion, and let Captain Atherton alone, when she 
 knows how much her behavior annoys Mr. Everett. " 
 
 "Is Mr. Everett anything to her?" asked Durward, 
 half -hoping that she would not confirm what Carrie had 
 before hinted. 
 
 "If he isn't he ought to be," answered Mrs. Living- 
 stone, with an ominous shake of the head. "Rumor 
 says they are engaged, and though when questioned she 
 denies it, she gives people abundant reason to think so ; 
 and yet every chance she gets, she flirts with Captain 
 Atherton, as you see her doing now. " 
 
 "What can she or any other young girl possibly want 
 of that old man?" asked Durward, laughing at the very 
 idea. 
 
 "He is rich. 'Lena is poor, proud, and ambitious — 
 there lies the secret," was Mrs. Livingstone's reply, and 
 thinking she had said enough for the present, she ex- 
 cused herself, while she went to give orders concerning 
 supper. 
 
 John Jr. and Carrie, too, had disappeared, and thus 
 left to himself, Durward had nothing to do but to 
 watch 'Lena, who, as she saw symptoms of desertion in 
 the anxious glances which the captain cast toward 
 Anna, redoubled her exertions to keep him at her side, 
 thus confirming Durward in the belief that she really 
 was what her aunt and Carrie had represented her to 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 121 
 
 be. "Poor, proud, and ambitious," rang in his ears, 
 and as he mistook the mischievous look which 'Lena 
 frequently sent toward Anna and Malcolm, for a desire 
 to see how the latter was affected by her conduct, he 
 thought, "Fickle as fair," at the same time congratu- 
 lating himself that he had obtained an insight into her 
 real character, ere her exceeding beauty and agreeable 
 manners had made any particular impression upon him. 
 
 Knowing she had done nothing to offend him, and 
 feeling piqued at his indifference, 'Lena in turn treated 
 him so coldly, that even Carrie was satisfied with the 
 phase which affairs had assumed, and that night, in the 
 privacy of her mother's dressing room, expressed her 
 pleasure that matters were progressing so finely. 
 
 "You've no idea, mother," said she, "how much he 
 detests anything like coquetry. Nellie Douglass thinks 
 it's a kind of monomania with him, and I am inclined 
 to believe it is so. " 
 
 "In that case," answered Mrs. Livingstone, "it be- 
 hooves you, in his presence, to be very careful how you 
 demean yourself toward other gentlemen. " 
 
 "I hav'nt lived nineteen years for nothing," said 
 Carrie, folding her soft white hands complacently one 
 over the other. 
 
 "Speaking of Nellie Douglass," continued Mrs. Liv- 
 ingstone, who had long desired this interview with her 
 daughter, "speaking of Nellie, reminds me of your 
 brother, who seems perfectly crazy about her." 
 
 "And what if he does?" asked Carrie, her thoughts 
 far more intent upon Durward Bellmont than her 
 brother. "Isn't Nellie good enough for him?" 
 
 "Yes, good enough, I admit," returned her mother, 
 "but I think I can find a far more suitable match — 
 Mabel Ross, for instance. Her fortune is said to be im- 
 mense, while Mr. Douglass is worth little or nothing." 
 
122 'LENA RIVFUS. 
 
 "When you bring about a ui ion between John Liv- 
 ingstone Jr. and Mabel Rosf , I shall have full confi- 
 dence in your powers to df anything, even to the 
 marrying of Anna and Grandfather Atherton, answered 
 Carrie, to whom her mother';* schemes were no secret. 
 
 "And that, too, I'll effect, rather than see her thrown 
 away upon a low-bred Noxt 7 ierner, who shall never wed 
 her — never;" and the lmughty woman paced up and 
 down her room, devising numerous ways by which her 
 long-cherished threefold plan should be effected. 
 
 The next morning, Durward arose much earlier than 
 was his usual custom, and going out into the garden he 
 came suddenly upon 'Lena. "This," said he, "is a 
 pleasure which I did not expect when I rather unwill- 
 ingly tore myself from my pillow." 
 
 All the coldness of the night befoie was gone, but 
 'Lena could na§ so soon forget, and quite indifferently 
 she answered fhat "she learned to rise early among the 
 New England hills." 
 
 "An exceF&nt practice, and one which more of our 
 young ladifS would do well to imitate," returned Dur- 
 ward, at fhe same time speaking of the beautifying 
 effect wbwh the morning air had upon her complexion. 
 
 'Lena reddened, for she recalled his words of yester- 
 day concerning her plainness, and somewhat sharply 
 she replied, that "any information regarding her per- 
 sonal appearance was wholly unnecessary, as she knew 
 very well how she looked. " 
 
 Durward bit his lip, and resolving never to compli- 
 ment her again, walked on in silence at her side, while 
 'Lena, repenting of her hasty words, and desirous of 
 making amends, exerted herself to be agreeable; and 
 by the time the breakfast bell rang, Durward mentally 
 j renounced her "a perfect mystery," which he would 
 t'J$)& delight in unravelling!" 
 
*LENA RIVERS. 
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 MR. AND MRS. GRAHAM. 
 
 Breakfast had been some time over, when the roll 
 of carriage wheels and a loud ring at the door, an- 
 nounced the arrival of Mr. Graham, who, true to his 
 appointment with Durward, had come up to meet him, 
 accompanied by Mrs. Graham. This lady, who could 
 boast of having once been the bride of an English lord, 
 to say nothing of belonging to the "very first family of 
 Virginia," was a sort of bugbear to Mrs. Livingstone, 
 who, haughty and overbearing to her equals, was 
 nevertheless cringing and cowardly in the presence of 
 those whom she considered her superiors. Never hav- 
 ing seen Mrs. Graham, her ideas concerning her were 
 quite elevated, and now when she came unexpectedly, 
 it quite overcame her. Unfortunately, too, she was 
 this morning suffering from a nervous headache, th© 
 result of the excitement and late hours of the night be- 
 fore, and on learning that Mrs. Graham was in the 
 parlor, she fell back in her rocking chair, and between 
 a groan and a sigh, declared her utter inability to see 
 her at present, saying that Carrie must play the part of 
 hostess until such time as she felt composed enough to 
 undertake it. 
 
 "Oh, I can't — I shan't — that ends it!" said Carrie, 
 who, though a good deal dressed on Durward's ac- 
 count, still felt anxious to give a few more finishing 
 
1^4 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 touches to her toilet, and to see if her hair and complex- 
 ion were all right, ere she ventured into the august 
 presence of her "mother-in-law elect," as she confi- 
 dently considered Mrs. Graham. 
 
 "Anna must go then," persisted Mrs. Livingstone, 
 who knew full well how useless it would be to press 
 Carrie further. "Anna must go — where is she? Call 
 her, 'Lena." 
 
 But Anna was away over the fields, enjoying with 
 Mr. Everett a walk which had ^been planned the night 
 previous, and when 'Lena returned with the intelligence 
 that she was nowhere to be found, her aunt in great 
 distress exclaimed, "Mercy me! what will Mrs. Gra- 
 ham think — and Mr. Livingstone too, keeps running 
 back and forth for somebody to entertain her. What 
 shall I do ! I can't go in looking so yellow and jaded 
 as I now do !" 
 
 'Lena's first thought was to bring her aunt's powder- 
 ball, as the surest way of remedying the yellow skin, 
 but knowing that such an act would be deeply resented, 
 she quickly repressed the idea, offering instead to go 
 herself to the parlor. 
 
 " You! What could you say to her?" returned Mrs. 
 Livingstone, to whom the proposition was not altogether 
 displeasing. 
 
 "I can at least answer her questions, "returned 'Lena, 
 and after a moment her aunt consented, wondering the 
 while how 'Lena, in her plain gingham wrapper and 
 linen collar, could be willing to meet the fashionable 
 Mrs. Graham. 
 
 "But then," thought she, "she has so little sensibil- 
 ity, I don't s'pose she cares! and why should she? Mrs, 
 Graham will of course look upon her as only a little 
 above a servant" — and with this complimentary reflec* 
 tion upon her niece, Mrs. Livingstone retired to her 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 125 
 
 dressing room, while "Lena, with a beating heart and 
 slightly heightened color, repaired to ttw parlor. 
 
 On a sofa by the window sat Mrs; Graham, and the 
 moment 'Lena's eye fell upon her, her fears vanished, 
 while she could hardly repress a smile at the idea of 
 being afraid of her. She was a short, dumpy, florid- 
 looking woman, showily, and as 'Lena thought, over- 
 dressed for morning, as her person was covered with 
 jewelry, which flashed and sparkled with every move- 
 ment. Her forehead was very low, and marked by a 
 scowl of discontent which was habitual, for with every- 
 thing to make her happy, Mrs. Graham was far from 
 being so. Exceedingly nervous and fidgety, she was 
 apt to see only the darker side, and when her husband 
 and son, who were of exactly opposite temperaments, 
 strove to laugh her into good spirits, they generally 
 made the matter worse, as she usually reproached them 
 with having no feeling or sympathy for her. 
 
 Accustomed to a great deal of attention, she had 
 fretted herself into quite a fever at Mrs. Livingstone's 
 apparent lack of courtesy in not hastening to receive 
 her, and when 'Lena's light step was heard in the hall, 
 she turned toward the door with a frown which seemed 
 to ask why she had not come sooner. Durward, who 
 was present, immediately introduced his mother, at the 
 same time admiring the extreme dignity of 'Lena's 
 manner as she received the lady's greeting, apologizing 
 for her aunt's nonappearance, saying, "she was suffer- 
 ing from a severe headache, and begged to be excused 
 for an hour or so. " 
 
 "Quite excusable, " returned Mrs. Graham, at the 
 same time saying something in a low tone about its not 
 being her wish to stop there so early, as she knew she 
 was not expected. 
 
 "But perfectly welcome, nevertheless," 'Lena has 1 
 
126 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 tened to say, thinking that for the time being the repu 
 tation of her uncle's house was resting upon her shoul- 
 ders. 
 
 "I dare say, "was Mrs. Graham's ungracious answer, 
 and then her little gray, deep-set eyes rested upon 
 'Lena, wondering if she were "a governess or what?" 
 and thinking it strange that she should seem so per- 
 fectly self-possessed. 
 
 Insensibly, too, 'Lena's manner won upon her, for 
 spite of her fretfulness, Mrs. Graham at heart was a 
 kindly-disposed woman. Ill-health and long years « 
 dissipation had helped to make her what she was. Bf 
 sides this, she was not quite happy in her domestic relf 
 tions, for though Mr. Graham possessed all the requ 
 sites of a kind and affectionate husband, he could m 
 remove from her mind the belief that he liked othei 
 better than he did herself ! 'Twas in vain that he alter, 
 nately laughed at and reasoned with her on the subject. 
 She was not to be convinced, and so poor Mr. Graham, 
 who was really exceedingly polite and affable to the 
 ladies, was almost constantly provoking the green-eye< 
 monster by his attentions to some one of the fair sex. 
 In spite of his nightly "Caudle" lectures, he wouW 
 transgress again and again, until his wife's patience 
 was exhausted, and now she affected to have given him 
 up, turning for comfort and affection toward Durward, 
 who. was her special delight, "the very apple of her eye 
 — he was so much like his father. Sir Arthur, who dur- 
 ing the whole year that she lived with him had nevei 
 once given her cause for jealousy." 
 
 Just before 'Lena entered the parlor, Mr. Graham 
 had for a moment stepped out with Mr. Livingstone, but 
 soon returning, he, too, was introduced to the young 
 lady. It was strange, considering 'Lena's uncommon 
 beauty, that Mrs. Graham did not watch her husband's 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 127 
 
 manner, but for once in her life she felt no fears, and 
 looking from the window, she failed to note the sudden 
 pallor which overspread his face when Mr. Livingstone 
 presented to him "Miss Rivers — my niece." 
 
 Mr. Graham was a tall, finely-formed man, with a 
 broad, good-humored face, whose expression instantly 
 demanded respect from strangers, while his pleasant, 
 affable deportment universally won the friendship of all 
 who knew him. And 'Lena was not an exception to 
 the general rule, for the moment his warm hand 
 grasped hers and his kindly beaming eye rested upon 
 her, her heart went toward him as a friend, while she 
 wondered why he looked at her so long and earnestly, 
 twice repeating her name— "Miss Rivers — Rivers." 
 
 From the first, 'Lena had recognized him as the same 
 gentleman whom Durward had called father in the 
 cars years ago, and when, as if to apologize for his 
 singular conduct, he asked if they had never met before, 
 she referred him to that time, saying "she thought it 
 strange that he should remember her. " 
 
 "Old acquaintances — ah — indeed!" and little Mrs, 
 Graham nodded and fanned, while her round, florid 
 face grew more florid, and her linen cambric went up 
 to her forehead as if trying to smooth out the scowl 
 which was of too long standing to be smoothed. 
 
 "Yes, my dear," said Mr. Graham, turning toward 
 his wife, "I had entirely forgotten the circumstance, 
 but it seem 5 I saw her in the cars when we took our 
 eastern tour six or seven years ago. You were quite a 
 little girl then — " turning to 'Lena. 
 
 "Only ten," was the reply, and Mrs. Graham, 
 ashamed of herself and anxious to make amends, soft- 
 ened considerable toward 'Lena, asking "how long she 
 had lived in Kentucky — where she used to live — and 
 where her mother was*" 
 
i28 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 At this question, Mr. Graham, who was talking > nth 
 Mr. Livingstone, suddenly stopped. 
 
 "My mother is dead," answered 'Lena. 
 * "And your father?" 
 
 "Gone to Canada!" interrupted Durward, who nad 
 heard vague rumors of 'Lena's parentage, and who did 
 not quite like his mother's being so inquisitive. 
 
 Mrs. Graham laughed; she always did at whatever 
 Durward said ; while Mr. Graham replied to a remark 
 made by Mr. Livingstone some time before. Here 
 John Jr. appeared, and after being formally introduced, 
 he seated himself by his cousin, addressing to her some 
 trivial remark, and calling her 'Lena. It was well for 
 Mr. Graham's after peace that his wife was just then 
 too much engrossed with Durward to observe the effect 
 which that name produced upon him. 
 
 Abruptly rising he turned toward Mr. Livingstone, 
 saying, "You were telling me about a fine species of 
 cactus which you have in your yard — suppose we go 
 and see it. " 
 
 The cactus having been duly examined, praised, and 
 commented upon, Mr. Graham casually remarked, 
 "Your niece is a fine-looking girl — 'Lena, I think your 
 son called her?" 
 
 "Yes, or Helena, which was her mother's name." 
 
 "And her mother was your sister, Helena Living- 
 stone?" 
 
 "No, sir, Nichols. I changed my name to gratify a 
 fancy of my wife," returned Mr. Livingstone, thinking 
 it better to tell the truth at once. 
 
 Again Mr. Graham bent over the cactus, inspecting 
 it minutely, and keeping his face for a long time con- 
 f sealed from his friend, whose thoughts, as was usually 
 tne case when his sister was mentioned, were far back 
 in the past. When at last Mr. Graham lifted his head, 
 
*LENA RIVERS. 129 
 
 there were no traces of the stormy emotions which had 
 shaken his very heartstrings, and with a firm, com- 
 posed step he walked back to the parlor, where he found 
 both Mrs. Livingstone and Carrie just paying their In- 
 spects to his lady. 
 
 Nothing could be more marked than the difference 
 between Carrie's and 'Lena's manner toward Mrs. 
 Graham. Even Durward noticed it, and while he could 
 not sufficiently admire the quiet self-possession of the 
 latter, who in her simple morning wrapper and linen 
 collar had met his mother on perfectly equal terms, he, 
 for the first time in his life, felt a kind of contempt (pity 
 he called it) for Carrie, who, in an elegantly embroid- 
 ered double-gown confined by a rich cord and tassels 
 which almost swept the floor, treated his mother with a 
 fawning servility as disgusting to him as it was pleas- 
 ing to the lady in question. Accustomed to the utmost 
 deference on account of her wealth and her husband's 
 station, Mrs. Graham had felt as if something were 
 withheld from her, when neither Mrs. Livingstone nor 
 her daughters rushed to receive and welcome her; but 
 now all was forgotten, for nothing could be more flat- 
 tering than their attentions. Both mother and daugh- 
 ter having the son in view, did their best, and when at 
 last Mrs. Graham asked to be shown to her room, Car- 
 rie, instead of ringing for a servant, offered to conduct 
 her thither herself; whereupon Mrs. Graham laid her 
 hand caressingly upon her shoulders, calling her a 
 "dear little pet," and asking "where she stole those 
 bright, naughty eyes !" 
 
 A smothered laugh from John Jr. and a certain low 
 nasal sound which he was in the habit of producing 
 when desirous of reminding his sister of her nose, made 
 the "bright, naughty eyes" flash so angrily, that even 
 
130 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 Durward noticed it, and wondered if 'Lena's temper nad 
 not been transferred to her cousin. 
 
 , "That young girl — 'Lena, I think you call her — is a 
 relative of yours, " said Mrs. Graham to Carrie, as they 
 were ascending the stairs. 
 
 "Ye-es, our cousin, I suppose," answered Carria 
 
 "She bears a very aristocratic name, that of Rivers- 
 does she belong to a Virginia family?" 
 
 Carrie looked mysterious and answered, "I never 
 knew anything of her father, and indeed, I reckon no 
 one does" — then after a moment she added, "Almost 
 every family has some objectionable relative, with 
 which they could willingly dispense." 
 
 "Very true," returned Mrs. Graham. "What a pity 
 we couldn't all have been born in England. There 
 dear, you can leave me now." 
 
 Accordingly Carrie started for the parlor, meeting in 
 the hall her mother, who was in a sea of trouble con- 
 cerning the dinner. "Old Milly," she said, "had gone 
 to bed out of pure hatef ulness, pretending she had got a 
 collapse, as she called it." 
 
 "Can't Hagar do," asked Carrie, anxious that Mrs. 
 Graham's first dinner with them should be in style, 
 
 "Yes, but she can't do everything — somebody must 
 superintend her, and as for burning myself brown over 
 the dishes and then coming to the table, I won't." 
 
 "Why not make 'Lena go into the kitchen — 'twon't 
 hurt her to-day more than it did yesterday," suggested 
 Carrie. 
 
 "A good idea, ' ? returned her mother, and stepping to 
 the parlor door she called 'Lena from a most interesting 
 conversation with Mr. Graham, who, the moment his 
 wife was gone, had taken a seat by her side, and now 
 seemed oblivious to all else save her. 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 131 
 
 There was a strange tenderness in the tones of his 
 voice and in the expression of his eyes as they rested 
 upon her, and Durward, who well knew his mother's 
 peculiarities, felt glad that she was not present, while 
 at the same time he wondered that his father should 
 appear so deeply interested in an entire stranger. 
 
 " 'Lena, I wish to speak with you," said Mrs. Liv- 
 ingstone, appearing at the door, and 'Lena, gracefully 
 excusing herself left the room, while Mr. Graham com- 
 menced pacing the floor in a slow, abstracted manner, 
 ever and anon wiping away the beaded drops which 
 stood thickly on his forehead. 
 
 Meantime, 'Lena, having learned for what she was 
 wanted, went without a word to the kitchen, though 
 her proud nature rebelled, and it was with difficulty she 
 could force down the bitter spirit which she felt rising 
 within her. Had her aunt or Carrie shared her labors, 
 or had the former asked instead of commanded her to 
 go, she would have done it willingly. But now in quite 
 a perturbed state of mind she bent over pastry and pud- 
 ding, scarcely knowing which was which, until a pleas- 
 ant voice at her side made her start, and looking up she 
 saw Anna, who had just returned from her walk, and 
 who, on learning how matters stood, declared her inten- 
 tion of helping too. 
 
 "If there's anything I like, it's being in a muss," said 
 she, and throwing aside her leghorn flat, pinning up 
 her sleeves, and fastening back her curls in imitation of 
 'Lena, she was soon up to her elbows in cooking — her 
 dress literally covered with flour, eggs, and cream, and 
 her face as red as the currant jelly which Hagar 
 brought from the china closet. "There's a pie fit for a 
 queen or Lady Graham either," said she, depositing in 
 the huge oven her first attempt in the pie line. 
 
 But alas ! Malcolm Everett's words of love spoken 
 
132 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 beneath the wide-spreading sycamore were still ringing 
 in Anna's ears, so 'twas no wonder she salted the 
 custard instead of sweetening it. But no one noticed 
 the mistake, and when the pie was done, both 'Lena and 
 Hagar praised its white, *tncurdled appearance. 
 
 "Now we shall just have time to change our dresses," 
 said Anna, when everything pertaining to the dinner 
 was in readiness, but 'Lena, knowing how flushed and 
 heated she was, and remembering Durward's distaste 
 of high colors, announced her determination of not ap- 
 pearing at the table. 
 
 "I shall see that grandma is nicely dressed," said she, 
 "and you must look after her a little for I shall not come 
 down. 
 
 So saying she ran up to her room, where she found 
 Mrs. Nichols in a great state of fermentation to know 
 "who was below, and what the doin's was. I should 
 of gone down," said she, "but I know'd 'Tilda would 
 be maddern a hornet. " 
 
 'Lena commended her discretion in remaining where 
 she was, and then informing her that Mr. Bellmont's 
 father and mother were there, she proceeded to make 
 some alterations in her dress. The handsome black silk 
 and neat lace cap, both the Christmas gift of John Jr., 
 were donned, and then, staff in hand, the old lady 
 started for the dining room, 'Lena giving her numerous 
 charges not to talk much, and on no account to mention 
 her favorite topic — Nancy Scovandyke ! 
 
 "Nancy's as good any day as Miss Graham, if she 
 did marry a live lord," was grandma's mental com- 
 ment, as the last-mentioned lady, rustling in a heavy 
 brocade and loaded down with jewelry, took her place 
 at the table. 
 
 Purposely, Mrs. Livingstone omitted an introduction, 
 which her husband, through fear of her, perhaps, failed 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 133 
 
 to give. But not so with John Jr. To be sure, he 
 cared not a fig on his grandmother's account, whether 
 she were introduced or not, for he well knew she would 
 not hesitate to make their acquaintance ; but knowing 
 how it would annoy his mother and Carrie, he called 
 out in a loud tone, "My grandmother, Mrs. Nichols — 
 Mr. and Mrs. Graham." 
 
 Mr. Graham started so quickly that his wife asked 
 "if anything stung him." 
 
 "Yes — no," said he, at the same time indicating that 
 'twas not worth while to mind it. 
 
 "Got stung, have you?" said Mrs. Nichols. "Mebby 
 'twas a bumble-bee — seems 's ef I smelled one ; but like 
 enough it's the scent on Car'line's handkercher. " 
 
 Mrs. Graham frowned majestically, but it was en- 
 tirely lost on grandma, who, after a time, forgetful of 
 'Lena's caution, said, "I b'lieve they say you're from 
 "Virginny!" 
 
 "Yes, madam, Virginia is my native state," returned 
 Mrs. Graham, clipping off each word as if it were burn- 
 ing her tongue. 
 
 "Anywheres near Richmond?" continued Mrs. 
 Nichols. 
 
 "I was born in Richmond, madam." 
 
 "Law, now! who knows but you're well acquainted 
 with Nancy Scovandyke's kin." 
 
 Mrs. Graham turned as red as the cranberry sauce 
 upon her plate, as she replied, "I've not the honor of 
 knowing either Miss Sco Vandyke or any of her relatives. " 
 
 "Wall, she's a smart, likely gal, or woman I s'pose 
 you'd call her, bein' she's just the age of my son." 
 
 Here Mrs. Nichols, suddenly remembering 'Lena's 
 cnarge, stopped, but John Jr. , who loved to see the fun 
 go on, started her again, by asking what relatives Miss 
 Scovandyke had in Virginia. 
 
234 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 " 'Leny told me not to mention Nancy, but bein* 
 you've aske I a civil question, 'tain't more'n fair for me 
 to answer it. Better'n forty year ago Nancy's mother's 
 aunt " 
 
 "Which would be Miss Nancy's great-aunt," inter- 
 rupted John Jr. 
 
 "Bless the boy," returned the old lady, "he's got the 
 Nichols' head for figgerin'. Yes, Nancy's great-aunt, 
 though she was six years and two months younger'n 
 Nancy's mother. Wall, as I was sayin' she went off to 
 Virginny to teach music. She was prouder'n Lucifer, 
 and after a spell she married a Southerner, rich as a 
 Jew, and then she never took no more notice of her 
 folks to hum than ? s ef they hadn't been. But the poor 
 critter didn't live long to enjoy it, for when her first 
 baby was born, she died. 'Twas a little girl, but her 
 folks in Massachusetts have never heard a word 
 whether she's dead or alive. Joel Slocum, that Nancy's 
 nephew, says he means to go down there some day, and 
 look her up, but I wouldn't bother with 'em, for that 
 side of the house always did feel big, and above Nancy's 
 folks, thinkin 5 Nancy's mother married beneath her. " 
 
 Mrs. Graham must have enjoyed her dinner very 
 much, for during grandma's recital she applied herself 
 assiduously to her plate, never once looking up, while 
 her face and neck were literally spotted, either with 
 heat, excitement or anger. These spots at last attracted 
 Mrs. Nichols' attention, causing her to ask the lady "if 
 she warn't pestered with erysipelas. " 
 
 "I am not aware of it, madam," answered Mrs. 
 Graham ; and grandma replied : 
 
 "It looks mighty like it to me, and I've seen a good 
 deal on't, for Nancy Scovandyke has allers had it more 
 or less. Now I think on't," she continued, as if bent on 
 tormenting her companion, "now I think on't, you look 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 135 
 
 quite a considerable like Nancy — the same forehead and 
 complexion — only she's a head taller. Hain't you 
 noticed it, John?" 
 
 "No, I have not," answered John, at the same time 
 proposing a change in the conversation, as he presumed 
 "they had all heard enough of Nancy Scovandyke." 
 
 At this moment the dessert appeared, and with it 
 Anna's pie. John Jr. was the first to taste it, and with 
 an expression of disgust he exclaimed, "Horror, mother, 
 who made this pie?" 
 
 Mrs. Livingstone needed but one glance at her guests 
 to know that something was wrong, and darting an 
 angry frown at Hagar, who was busy at a side-table, 
 she wondered, "if there ever was any one who had 
 so much trouble with servants as herself. " 
 
 Anna saw the gathering storm, and knowing full 
 well that it would burst on poof Hagar's head, spoke 
 out, "Hagar is not in the fault, mother — no one but 
 myself is to blame. I made the pie, and must have put 
 in salt instead of sugar. " 
 
 "You made the pie!" repeated Mrs. Livingstone 
 angrily. "What business had you in the kitchen? 
 Pity we hadn't a few more servants, for then we should 
 all be obliged to turn drudges. " ' 
 
 Anna was about to reply, when John Jr. prevented 
 her by asking, "if it hurt his sister to be in the kitchen 
 anymore than it did 'Lena, who," he said, "worked 
 there both yesterday and to-day, burning herself until 
 she is ashamed to appear at the table. " 
 
 Mortified beyond measure at what had occurred, Mrs. 
 Livingstone hastened to explain that her servants were 
 nearly all sick, and that in her dilemma, 'Lena had 
 volunteered her services, adding by way of compliment^ 
 undoubtedly, that "her niece seemed peculiarly adapted 
 to such work — indeed, that her forte lay among pots 
 and kettles,"" 
 
136 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 An expression of scorn, unusual to Mr. Graham, 
 passed over his face, and in a sarcastic tone he asked 
 Mrs. Livingstone, "if she thought it detracted from a 
 young lady's worth to be skilled in whatever pertained 
 to the domestic affairs of a family. " 
 
 Ready to turn whichever way the wind did, Mrs. 
 Livingstone replied, "Not at all — not at all. I mean 
 that my daughters shall learn everything, so that their 
 husbands will find in them every necessary qualifica- 
 tion." 
 
 "Then you confidently expect them to catch husbands 
 sometime or other," said John Jr., whereupon Carrie 
 blushed, and looked very interesting, while Anna 
 retorted : 
 
 "Of course we shall. I wouldn't be an old maid for 
 the world — I'd run away first !" 
 
 And amidst the laughter which this speech called 
 forth, the company retired from the table. For some 
 time past, Mrs. Nichols had walked with a cane, limp- 
 ing even then. Observing this, Mr. Graham, with his 
 usual gallantry, offered her his arm, which she will- 
 ingly accepted, casting a look of triumph upon her 
 daughter-in-law, who apparently was not so well 
 pleased. So thorough had been grandma's training, 
 that she did not often venture into the parlor without 
 a special invitation from its mistress, but on this occasion 
 Mr. Graham led her in there as a matter of course, and 
 placing her upon the sofa, seated himself by her side, 
 and commenced questioning her concerning her former 
 home and history. Never in her life had Mrs. Nichols 
 felt more communicative, and never before had she so 
 attentive a listener. Particularly did he hang upon 
 every word, when she told him of her Helena, of her 
 exceeding beauty, her untimely death, and rascally hus- 
 band. 
 
'LENA RIVERS, 137 
 
 "Rivers — Rivers," said he, "what kind of a looking 
 man was he?" 
 
 "The Lord only knows — I never see him," returned 
 Mrs. Nichols. "But this much I do know, he was one 
 scandalous villain, and if an old woman's curses can do 
 him any harm, he's had mine a plenty of times." 
 
 "You do wrong to talk so," said Mr. Graham, "for 
 who knows how bitterly he may have repented of the 
 great wrong done to your daughter. " 
 
 "Then why in the name of common sense don't he 
 hunt up her child, and own her — he needn't be ashamed 
 of 'Leny." 
 
 "Very true," answered Mr. Graham. "No one need 
 be ashamed of her. I should be proud to call her my 
 daughter. But as I was saying, perhaps this Rivers 
 has married a second time, keeping his first marriage a 
 secret from his wife, who is so proud and high-spirited 
 that now, after the lapse of years, he dares not tell her 
 for fear of what might follow. " 
 
 "Then she's a good-for-nothing, stuck-up thing, and 
 he's a cowardly puppy ! That's my opinion on 'em, and 
 I'll tell 'em so, if ever I see 'em!" exclaimed Mrs. 
 Nichols, her wrath waxing warmer and warmer toward 
 the destroyer of her daughter. 
 
 Pausing for breath, she helped herself to a pinch of 
 her favorite Maccaboy, and then passed it to Mr. Gra- 
 ham, who, to her astonishment, took some, slyly cast- 
 ing it aside when she did not see him. This emboldened 
 the old lady to offer it to Mrs. Graham, who, languidly 
 reclining upon the end of the sofa, sat talking to Carrie, 
 who, on a low stool at her feet, was looking up into her 
 face, as if in perfect admiration. Without deigning 
 other reply than a haughty shake of the head, Mrs. 
 Graham cast a deprecating glance toward Carrie, who 
 muttered, "How disgusting! But for pa's sake we 
 tolerate it" 
 
138 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 Here 'Lena entered the parlor, very neatly dressed^ 
 and looking fresh and blooming as a rose. There was 
 no vacant seat near except one between Durward and 
 John Jr., which, at the invitation of the latter, she 
 accepted. A peculiar smile flitted over Carrie's face, 
 which was noticed by Mrs. Graham, and attributed to 
 the right cause. Ere long Durward, John Jr. , 'Lena, 
 and Anna, who had joined them, left the house, and 
 from the window Carrie saw that tb.ey were amusing 
 themselves by playing "Graces." Gradually the sound 
 of their voices increased, and as 'Lena's clear, musical 
 laugh rang out above the rest, Mrs. Graham and Car- 
 rie looked out just in time to see Durward holding the 
 struggling girl, while John Jr. claimed the reward of 
 his having thrown the "grace hoop" upon her head. 
 
 Inexpressibly shocked, the precise Mrs. Graham 
 asked, "What kind of a girl is your cousin;" to which 
 Carrie replied, "You have a fair sample of her," at the 
 same time nodding toward 'Lena who was unmercifully 
 pulling John Jr. 's ears as a reward for his presumption. 
 
 "Rather hoydenish, I should think," returned Mrs. 
 Graham, secretly hoping Durward would not become 
 enamored of her. 
 
 At length the party left the yard, and repairing to 
 the garden sat down in one of the arbor bridges, where 
 they were joined by Malcolm Everett, who naturally, 
 and as a matter of course, appropriated Anna to him- 
 self. Durward observed this, and when he saw them 
 walk away together, while 'Lena appeared wholly un- 
 concerned, he began to think that possibly Mrs. Living- 
 stone was mistaken when she hinted of an engagement 
 between her niece and Mr. Everett. Knowing John 
 Jr. 's straight-forward way of speaking, he determined 
 to sound him, so he said, "Your sister and Mr. Everett 
 evidently prefer each others' society to ours. " 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 139 
 
 "Oh, yes," answered John. "I saw that years ago, 
 when Anna wasn't knee-high ; and I'm glad of it, for 
 Everett is a mighty fine fellow. " 
 
 'Lena, too, united in praising her teacher, until Dur- 
 ward felt certain that she had never entertained for him 
 any feeling stronger than that of friendship ; and as to 
 her flirting seriously with Captain Atherton, the idea 
 was too preposterous to be harbored for a single mo- 
 ment. Once exonerated from these charges, it was 
 strange how fast 'Lena rose in his estimation, and when 
 John Jr., with a loud yawn, asked if they did not wish 
 he would leave them alone, more in earnest than in fun 
 Durward replied, "Yes, yes, do." 
 
 "I reckon I will," said John, shaking down his tight 
 pants, and pulling at his long coat sleeves. "I never 
 want anybody round when I'm with Nellie Douglass." 
 
 So saying, he walked off, leaving Durward and 'Lena 
 alone. That neither of them felt at all sorry, was 
 proved by the length of time which they remained to- 
 gether, for when more than an hour afterward Mrs. 
 Graham proposed to Carrie to take a turn in the garden, 
 she found the young couple still in the arbor, so wholly 
 engrossed that they neither saw nor heard her until she 
 stood before them. 
 
 'Lena was an excellent horsewoman, and Durward had 
 just proposed a ride early the next morning, when his 
 mother, forcing down her wrath, laid her hand on his 
 shoulder, and as if the proposition had come from Lena 
 instead of her son, she said, "No, no, Miss Rivers, Dur- 
 ward can't go — he has got to drive me over to Wood- 
 lawn, together with Carrie and Anna, whom I have 
 asked to accompany me; so you see 'twill be impossible 
 for him to ride with you." 
 
 "Unless she goes with us," interrupted Durward. 
 "You would like to visit Woodlawn, would you not, 
 Miss Rivers?" 
 
.40 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 "Oh, very much," was 'Lena's reply, while Mrs. 
 Graham continued, "I am sorry I cannot extend my 
 invitation to Miss Rivers, but our carriage will be full, 
 and I cannot endure to be crowded. " 
 
 "It has carried six many a time," said Durward, 
 "and if she will go, I will take you on my lap, or any* 
 where. " 
 
 Of course 'Lena declined — he knew she would — and 
 determined not to be outwitted by his mother, whose 
 aim he saw, he continued, "I shan't release you from 
 your engagement to ride with me. We will start early 
 and get back before mother is up, so our excursion will 
 in no way interfere with my driving her to Woodlawn 
 after breakfast." 
 
 Mrs. Graham was too polite to raise any further 
 objection, but resolving not to leave them to finish their 
 tete-a-tete, she threw herself upon one of the seats, and 
 commenced talking to her son, while Carrie, burning 
 with jealousy and vexation, started for the house, 
 where she laid her grievances before her mother, who, 
 equally enraged, declared her intention of "hereafter 
 watching the vixen pretty closely. " 
 
 "And she's going to ride with him to-morrow morn- 
 ing, you say. Well, I fancy I can prevent that. " 
 
 "How?" asked Carrie, eagerly, and her mother re- 
 plied, "You know she always rides Fleetfoot, which 
 now, with the other horses, is in the Grattan woods, 
 two miles away. Of course she'll order Caesar to bring 
 him up to the stable, but I shall countermand that 
 order, bidding him say nothing to her about it. He 
 dare not disobey me, and when in the morning she asks 
 for the pony, he can tell her just how it is. " 
 
 ' Capital! capital!" exclaimed Carrie, never suspect- 
 ing that there had been a listener, even John Jr. , who 
 all the while was sitting in the back parlor. 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 141 
 
 "Whew!" thought the young man. ''Plotting, are 
 they? "Well, I'll see how good I am at counterplotting. " 
 
 So, slipping quietly out of the house, he went in quest 
 of his servant, Bill, telling him to go after Fleetfoot, 
 whom he was to put in the lower stable instead of the 
 one where she was usually kept; "and then in the 
 morning, long before the sun is up," said he, "do you 
 have her at the door for one of the young ladies to 
 ride." 
 
 "Yes, marster," answered Bill, looking around for 
 his old straw hat. 
 
 "Now see how quick you can go," John Jr. continued 
 adding as an incentive to haste, that if Bill would get 
 the pony stabled before old Csesar, who had gone to 
 Versailles, should return he would give him ten cents. 
 
 Bill needed no other inducement than the promise of 
 money, and without stopping to find his hat, he started 
 off bareheaded, upon the run, returning in the course 
 of an hour and claiming his reward, as Csesar had not 
 yet got home. 
 
 "All right," said John Jr., tossing him the silver. 
 "And now remember to keep your tongue between your 
 teeth." 
 
 Bill had kept too many secrets for his young master 
 to think of tattling about something which to him 
 seemed of no consequence whatever, and he walked off, 
 eying his dime, and wishing he could earn one so easily 
 every day. 
 
 Meantime John Jr. sought out 'Lena, to whom he 
 said, "And so you are going to ride to-morrow morn- 
 ing?" 
 
 "How did you know?" she asked, and John, looking 
 very wise, replied that "little girls should not ask too 
 many questions," adding that as he supposed she would 
 of course want Fleetfoot, he had ordered Bill to have 
 her at the door early in the morning. 
 
142 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 "Much obliged," answered 'Lena. "I was about 
 giving it up when I heard the pony was in the Grattan 
 woods, for Ceesar is so cross I hated to ask him to go 
 for her; but now I'll say nothing to him about it." 
 
 That night when Ceesar was eating his supper in the 
 kitchen, his mistress suddenly appeared, asking "if he 
 had received any orders to go for Fleetf oot. " 
 
 The old negro, who was naturally cross, began to 
 scowl. "No, miss, and Lord knows I don't want to 
 tote clar off to the Grattan woods to-night. " 
 
 "You needn't, either, and if any one tells you to go, 
 don't you do it, " returned Mrs. Livingstone. 
 
 "Somebody's playin' possum, that's sartin," thought 
 Bill, who was present, and began putting things to- 
 gether. "Somebody's playin' possum, but they don't 
 catch this child leakin'. " 
 
 "Have you told him?" whispered Carrie, meeting her 
 mother in the hall. 
 
 Mrs. Livingstone nodded, adding in an undertone 
 that "she presumed the ride was given up, as 'Lena 
 had said nothing to Ceesar about the pony. " 
 
 With her mind thus at ease, Carrie returned to the 
 parlor, where she commenced talking to Mrs. Graham 
 of their projected visit to Woodlawn, dwelling upon it 
 as if it had been a tour to Europe, and evidently exult- 
 ing that 'Lena was to be left behind. 
 
XENA RIVERS. 143 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 WOODLAWN. 
 
 Next morning, long before the sun appeared abovs 
 the eastern horizon, Fleetfoot, attended by Bill, stood 
 before the door, saddled and waiting for its young rider, 
 while near by it was Firelock, which Durward had bor- 
 rowed of John Jr. At last 'Lena appeared, and if Dur- 
 ward had admired her beauty before, his admiration 
 was now greatly increased when he saw how well she 
 looked in her neatly-fitting riding dress and tasteful 
 straw hat. After bidding her good-morning, he ad- 
 vanced to assist her in mounting, but declining his offer, 
 she with one bound sprang into the saddle. 
 
 "Jumps like a toad," said Bill. "Ain't stiff and 
 clumsy like Miss Carrie, who alius has to be done sot 
 on." 
 
 At a word from Durward they galloped briskly away, 
 the clatter of their horses' hoofs arousing and bringing 
 to the window Mrs. Graham, who had a suspicion of 
 what was going on. Pushing aside the silken curtain, 
 she looked uneasily after them, wondering if in reality 
 her son cared aught for the graceful creature at his side, 
 and thinking if he did, how hard she would labor to 
 overcome his liking. Mrs. Graham was not the only 
 one who watched them, for fearing lest Bill should not 
 awake, John Jr. had foregone his morning nap, himself 
 calling up the negro, and now from his window he, too, 
 looked after them until they entered upon the turnpika 
 
J 44 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 and were lost to view. Then, with some very compii* 
 mentary reflections upon Lena's riding, he returned to 
 his pillow, thinking to himself, "There's a girl worth 
 having. By Jove, if I'd never seen Nellie Douglass, 
 and 'Lena wasn't my cousin, wouldn't I keep mother in 
 the hysterics most of the time !" 
 
 On reaching the turnpike, Durward halted, while he 
 asked 'Lena "where she wished to go." 
 
 "Anywhere you please," said she, when, for reasons 
 of his own, he proposed that they should ride over to 
 Woodlawn. 
 
 'Lena was certainly excusable if she felt a secret feel- 
 ing of satisfaction in thinking she was after all the first 
 of the family to visit Woodlawn, of which she had heard 
 so much that it seemed like a perfect Eldorado. It 
 was a grand old building, standing on a crossroad 
 about three miles from the turnpike, and commanding 
 quite an extensive view of the country around. It was 
 formerly owned by a wealthy Englishman, who spent 
 his winters in New Orleans and his summers in the 
 country. The year before he had died insolvent, Wood- 
 lawn falling into the hands of his creditors, who now 
 offered it for sale, together with the gorgeous furniture 
 which still remained just as the family had left it. To 
 the left of the building was a largo handsome park, in 
 which the former owner had kept a number of deer, 
 and now as Durward and 'Lena rode up and down the 
 shaded avenues, these graceful creatures would occa- 
 sionally spring up and bound away with the fleetness of 
 the wind. 
 
 The garden and yard in front were laid out with per- 
 fect taste, the former combining both the useful and the 
 agreeable. A luxurious grapevine wreathed itself over 
 the arched entrance, while the wide, graveled walks 
 were bordered, some with box, and others with choice 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 145 
 
 flowers, now choked and overgrown with weeds, but 
 showing marks of great beauty when properly tended 
 and cared for. At the extremity of the principal walk, 
 which extended the entire length of the garden, was a 
 summer house, fitted up with everything which could 
 make it attractive during the sultry heat of summer, 
 while farther on through the little gate was a handsome 
 grove or continuation of the park, with many well- 
 beaten paths winding through it and terminating fmall j 
 at the side of a tiny sheet of water, which within a few 
 years had forced itself through the limestone soil natural 
 to Kentucky. 
 
 Owing to some old feud, the English family had not 
 been on visiting terms with the Livingstones ; conse- 
 quently, 'Lena had never before been at Woodlawn, 
 and her admiration increased with every step, and 
 when at last they entered the house and stood within 
 the elegant drawing rooms, it knew no bounds. She 
 remembered the time when she had thought her uncle's 
 furniture splendid beyond anything in the world, but it 
 could not compare with the magnificence around her, 
 and for a few minutes she stood as if transfixed with 
 astonishment. Durward had been highly amused at her 
 enthusiastic remarks concerning the grounds, and now 
 noticing her silence, he asked, "what was the matter?" 
 
 "Oh, I am half -afraid to speak, lest this beautiful 
 room should prove an illusion and fade away," said she. 
 
 "Is it then so much more beautiful than anything 
 you ever saw before?" he asked; and she replied: 
 
 "Oh, yes, far more so," at the same time giving him 
 a laughable description of her amazement when she 
 first saw the inside of her uncle's house, and ending by 
 saying, "But you can imagine it all, for you saw me in 
 the cars, and can judge pretty well what were my ideas 
 of the world." 
 
146 . *LENA RIVERS. 
 
 Wishing to see if 'Lena would attempt to conceal her 
 former humble mode of living, Durward said, "I have 
 never heard anything concerning your eastern home 
 and how you lived there — will you please to tell me?" 
 
 " There's nothing to tell which will interest you," an- 
 swered 'Lena; but Durward thought there was, and 
 leading her to a sofa, he bade her commence. 
 
 Durward had a peculiar way of making people do 
 what he pleased, and now at his bidding 'Lena told him 
 of her mountain -home, with its low roof, bare walls, 
 and oaken floors — of herself, when, a barefooted little 
 girl, she picked huckleberries with Joel Slocuin! And 
 then, in lower and more subdued tones, she spoke of 
 her mother's grave in the valley, near which her be- 
 loved grandfather — the only father she had ever known 
 — was now sleeping. 'Lena never spoke of her grand- 
 father without weeping. She could not help it. Her 
 tears came naturally, as they did when first they told 
 her he was dead, and now laying her head upon the 
 arm of the sofa, she sobbed like a child. 
 
 Durward's sympathies were all enlisted, and without 
 stopping to consider the propriety or impropriety of the 
 act, he drew her gently toward him, trying to soothe 
 her grief, calling her 'Lena, and smoothing back the 
 curls which had fallen over her face. As soon as pos- 
 sible, 'Lena released herself from him, and drying her 
 tears, proposed that they should go over the house, as 
 it was nearly time for them, to return home. Accord- 
 ingly they passed on through room after room, 'Lena's 
 quick eye taking in and appreciating everything which 
 she saw, while Durward was no less lost in admiration 
 of her for speaking of herself so frankly as she had 
 done. Many young ladies, he well knew, would shrink 
 from acknowledging that their home was once in a 
 brown, old-fashioned house among wild and rugged 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 147 
 
 mountains, and 'Lena's truthfulness in speaking not 
 only of this, but many similar things connected with her 
 early history, inspired him with a respect for her which 
 he had never before felt for any young lady of his 
 acquaintance. 
 
 Eut little was said by either ot them as they went 
 over the house, until Durward, prompted by something 
 he could not resist, suddenly asked his companion, 
 "how she would like to be mistress of Woodlawn?" 
 
 Had it been Carrie to whom this question was put, 
 she would have blushed and simpered, expecting noth- 
 ing short of an immediate offer, but 'Lena quickly re- 
 plied, "Not at all," laughingly giving as an insuperable 
 objection, "the size of the house and the number of 
 windows she would have to wash !" 
 
 With a loud laugh Durward proposed that they 
 should now return home, and again mounting their 
 horses, they started for Maple Grove, which they 
 reached just after the family had finished breakfast. 
 With the first ring of the bell, John Jr. , eager not to 
 lose an iota of what might occur, was at the table, and 
 when his mother and Carrie, anxious at the non-appear- 
 ance of Durward and 'Lena, cast wistful glances toward 
 each other, he very indifferently asked Mrs. Graham "if 
 her son had returned from his ride. " 
 
 "I've not seen him," answered the lady, her scowl 
 deepening and her lower jaw dropping slightly, as it 
 usually did when she was ill at ease. 
 
 "Who's gone to ride?" asked Mr. Graham; and John 
 Jr. replied that Durward and 'Lena had been riding 
 nearly two hours, adding that, "they must find each 
 other exceedingly interesting to be gone so long. " 
 
 This last was for the express benefit of his mother, 
 whose frown kept company with Mrs. Graham's scowl. 
 
 Chopping her steak into mincemeat, and almost bit* 
 
148 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 ing a piece from her cup as she sipped her coffee, she 
 at last found voice to ask, "what horse 'Lena rode!" 
 
 "Fleetfoot of course," said John Jr., at the same time 
 telling his father he thought, "he ought to give 'Lena a 
 pony of her own, for she was accounted the best rider 
 in the county, and Fleetfoot was getting old and 
 clumsy." 
 
 The moment breakfast was over, Mrs. Livingstone 
 went in quest of Csesar, whom she abused for disobey- 
 ing her orders, threatening aim with the calaboose, and 
 anything else which came to her mind. Old Csesar 
 was taken by surprise, and being rather slow of speech, 
 was trying to think of something to say, when John 
 Jr. , who had followed his mother, came to his aid say- 
 ing that "he himself had sent Bill for Fleetfoot," and 
 adding aside to his mother, that "the next time she and 
 Cad were plotting mischief he'd advise them to see who 
 was in the back parlor !" 
 
 Always ready to suspect 'Lena of evil, Mrs. Living- 
 stone immediately supposed it was she who had listened ; 
 but, before she could frame a reply, John Jr. walked 
 off leaving her undecided whether to cowhide Csesar, 
 'Lena, or her son, the first of whom, taking advantage 
 of the pause, followed the example of his young master 
 and stole away. The tramp of horses' feet was now 
 heard, and Mrs. Livingstone, mentally resolving that 
 Fleetfoot should be sold, repaired to the door in time to 
 see Durward carefully lift 'Lena from her pony and 
 place her upon the ground. Mrs. Graham, Carrie, and 
 Anna were all standing upon the piazza, and as 'Lena 
 came up the walk, her eyes sparkling and her bright 
 face glowing with exercise, Anna exclaimed, "Isn't she 
 beautiful?" at the same time asking her "where she had 
 been." 
 
 "To Woodlawn," answered 'Lena. 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 149 
 
 "To Woodlawn!" repeated Mrs. Graham. 
 
 "To Woodlawn!" echoed Mrs. Livingstone, while 
 Carrie brought up the rear by exclaiming, "To Wood- 
 lawn! pray what took you there?" 
 
 "The pony," answered 'Lena, as she passed into the 
 house. 
 
 Thinking it best to put Mrs. Graham on her guard, 
 Mrs. Livingstone said to her, in a low tone, "I would 
 advise you to keep an eye upon your son, if he is at all 
 susceptible, for there is no bound to 'Lena's ambition." 
 
 Mrs. Graham made no direct reply, but the flashing 
 of her little gray eye was a sufficient answer, and satis- 
 fied with the result of her caution, Mrs. Livingstone re- 
 entered the house. Two hours afterward, the carriage 
 stood at the door waiting to convey the party to Wood- 
 lawn. It had been arranged that Mrs. Graham, 
 Carrie, Anna, and Durward should ride in the carriage, 
 while Mr. Graham went on horseback. Purposely, 
 Carrie loitered behind her companions, who being first, 
 of course took the back seat, leaving her the privilege 
 of riding by the side of Durward. This was exactly 
 what she wanted, and leaning back on her elbow, she 
 complacently awaited his coming. But how was she 
 chagrined, when, in his stead, appeared Mr. Graham, 
 who sprang into the carriage and took a seat beside her, 
 saying to his wife's look of inquiry, that as John Jr. 
 had concluded to go, Durward preferred riding on 
 horseback with him, adding, in his usual polite way, 
 "And I, you know, would always rather go with the 
 ladies. But where is Miss Rivers?" he continued, 
 "Why isn't she here?" 
 
 "Simply because she wasn't invited, I suppose," re- 
 turned his wife, detecting the disappointment in his face. 
 
 "Not invited!" he repeated; "I didn't know as this 
 trip was of sufficient consequence to need a special invi- 
 tation. I thought»_of course, she was here " 
 
150 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 "Or you would have gone on horseback," suggested 
 his wife, ever ready to catch at straws. 
 
 Mr. Graham saw the rising jealousy in time to re- 
 press the truthful answer — "Yes" — while he compro- 
 mised the matter by saying that "the presence of three 
 fair ladies ought to satisfy him. " 
 
 Carrie was too much disappointed even to smile, and 
 during all the ride she was extremely taciturn, hardly 
 replying at all to Mr. Graham's lively sallies, and win- 
 ning golden laurels in the opinion of Mrs. Graham, who 
 secretly thought her husband altogether too agreeable. 
 As they turned into the long avenue which led to 
 Woodlawn, and Carrie thought of the ride which 'Lena 
 had enjoyed alone with its owner — for such was Dur- 
 ward reported to be — her heart swelled with bitterness 
 toward her cousin, in whom she saw a dreaded rival. 
 But when they reached the house, and Durward assisted 
 her to alight, keeping at her side while they walked 
 over the grounds, her jealousy vanished, and with her 
 sweetest smile she looked up into his face, affecting a 
 word of childish simplicity, and making, as she believed, 
 a very favorable impression. 
 
 "I wonder if you are as much pleased with "Wood- 
 lawn as your cousin," said Durward, noticing that her 
 mind seemed to be more intent on foreign subjects than 
 the scenery around her. 
 
 "Oh, no, I dare say not," returned Carrie. " 'Lena 
 was never accustomed to anything until she came to 
 Kentucky, and now I suppose she thinks she must go 
 into ecstasies over everything, though I sometimes wish 
 she wouldn't betray her ignorance quite so often." 
 
 "According to her description, her home in Massa- 
 chusetts was widely different from her present one," 
 said Durward; and Carrie quickly replied, "I wonder 
 now if she bored you with an account of her former 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 151 
 
 Aome ! You must have been edified, and had a delight 
 ful ride, I declare." 
 
 "And I assure you I never had a pleasanter one, for 
 Miss Rivers is, I think, an exceedingly agreeable com- 
 panion," returned Durward, beginning to see the drift 
 of her remarks. 
 
 Here Mr. Graham called to his son, and excusing 
 himself from Carrie, he did not again return to her until 
 it was time to go home. Meantime, at Maple Grove, 
 Mrs. Livingstone, in the worst possible humor, was 
 finding fault with poor 'Lena, accusing her of eaves- 
 dropping, and asking her if she did not begin to believe 
 the old adage, that listeners never heard any good ot 
 themselves. In perfect astonishment 'Lena demanded 
 what she meant, saying she had never, to her knowl- 
 edge, been guilty of listening. 
 
 Without any explanation whatever, Mrs. Livingstone 
 declared herself "satisfied now, for a person who would 
 listen and then deny it, was capable of almost anything. " 
 
 "What do you mean, madam?" said 'Lena, her tem- 
 per getting the ascendency. "Explain yourself, for no 
 one shall accuse me of lying without an attempt to 
 prove it." 
 
 With a sneer Mrs. Livingstone replied, "I wonder 
 what you can do ! Will you bring to your assistance 
 some one of your numerous admirers?" 
 
 "Admirers! What admirers?" asked 'Lena, and her 
 aunt replied, "I'll give you credit for feigning the best 
 of any one I ever saw, but you can't deceive me. I 
 know very well of your intrigues to entrap Mr. Bell- 
 mont. But it is not strange that you should inherit 
 something of your mother's nature, and you know what 
 she was !" 
 
 This was too much, and with eyes flashing fire 
 through the glittering tears, which shone like diamonds, 
 
152 LENA RIVERS. 
 
 'Lena sprang to her feet, exclaiming, "Yes, I do know 
 what she was. She was a far more worthy woman 
 than you, and if in my presence you dare again breathe 
 aught against her name, you shall rue it " 
 
 "That she shall, so help me Heaven," murmured a 
 voice near, which neither Mrs. Livingstone nor 'Lena 
 heard, nor were they aware of any one's presence until 
 Mr. Graham suddenly appeared in the doorway. 
 
 At his wife's request he had exchanged places with 
 his son, and riding on before the rest, had reached home 
 first, being just in time to overhear the last part of the 
 conversation between Mrs. Livingstone and 'Lena. In- 
 stantly changing her manner, Mrs. Livingstone mo- 
 tioned her niece from the room, heaving a deep sigh as 
 the door closed after her, and saying that "none but 
 those who had tried it knew what a thankless job it was 
 to rear the offspring of others. " 
 
 There was a peculiar look in Mr. Graham's eyes aa 
 he answered, "In your case I will gladly relieve you, if 
 my wife is willing. I have taken a great fancy to Miss 
 Rivers, and would like to adopt her as my daughter. 
 I will speak to Mrs. Graham to-night. " 
 
 Much as she disliked 'Lena, Mrs. Livingstone would 
 not for the world have her become an inmate of Mr, 
 Graham's family, where she would be constantly 
 thrown in Durw^ard's way ; and immediately changing 
 her tactics, she replied, "I thank you for your kind 
 offer, but I know my husband would not think of such 
 a thing ; neither should I be quite willing for her to 
 leave us, much as she troubles me." 
 
 Mr. Graham bowed stiffly, and left the house. That 
 night, after he had retired to his room, he seemed un- 
 usually distracted, pacing up and down the apartment, 
 occasionally pausing to gaze out into the moonlit sky, 
 and then resuming his measured tr^ad. At last nerv- 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 153 
 
 ing himself to brave the difficulty, he stopped before his 
 wife, to whom he made known his plan of adopting 
 'Lena. 
 
 "It seems hasty, I know," said he, "but she is just 
 the kind of person I would like to have round — just 
 such an one as I would wish my daughter to be if I had 
 one. In short, I like her, and with your consent I will 
 adopt her as my own, and take her from this place 
 where I know she's not wanted. What say you, 
 Lucy?" 
 
 "Will you adopt the old woman too?" asked Mrs. 
 Graham, whose face was turned away so as to hide its 
 expression. 
 
 "That is an after consideration," returned her hus- 
 band, "But if you are willing, I will either take her to 
 our home, or provide for her elsewhere — but come, 
 what do you say?" 
 
 All this time Mrs. Graham had sat bolt upright, her 
 little dumpling hands folded one within the other, the 
 long transparent nails making deep indentures in the 
 soft flesh, and her gray eyes emitting green gleams of 
 scorn. The answer her husband sought came at length, 
 and was characteristic of the woman. Hissing out the 
 words from between her teeth, she replied, "When I 
 take 'Lena Rivers into my family for my husband and 
 son to make love to, alternately, I shall be ready for the 
 lunatic asylum at Lexington. " 
 
 "And what objection have you to her?" asked Mr, 
 Graham; to which his wife replied, "The very fact, sir, 
 that you wish it, is a sufficient reason why I will not 
 have her; besides that, you must misjudge me strangely 
 if you tkink I'd be willing for my son to come daily in 
 contact with a girl of her doubtful parentage. " 
 
 "What know you of her parentage?" said Mr. 
 Graham, his lips turning slightly pale. 
 
154 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 "Yes, what do I know?" answered his wife. "Her 
 father, if she has any, is a rascal, a villain " 
 
 "Yes, yes, all of that," muttered Mr. Graham, while 
 his wife continued, "And her mother a poor, low, 
 mean, ignorant " 
 
 "Hold!" thundered Mr. Graham. "You shall not 
 speak so of any woman of whom you know nothing, 
 much less of 'Lena Rivers' mother. " 
 
 "And pray what do you know of her — is she an old 
 acquaintance?" asked Mrs. Graham, throwing into her 
 manner as much insolence as possible. 
 
 "I know," returned Mr. Graham, "that 'Lena's 
 mother could be nothing else than respectable." 
 
 "Undoubtedly; but of this be assured — the daughter 
 shall never, by my permission, darken my doors, " said 
 Mrs. Graham, growing more and more excited, and 
 continuing — "I know you of old, Harry Graham; and 
 I knew now that your great desire to secure Woodlawn 
 was so as to be near her, but it shan't be. " 
 
 In her excitement, Mrs. Graham forgot that it was 
 herself who had first suggested Woodlawn as a resi' 
 dence, and that until within a day or two her husband 
 and 'Lena were entire strangers. But this made no 
 difference. She was bent upon being unreasonable, and 
 for nearly an hour she fretted and cried, declaring her- 
 self the most abused of ner sex, and wishing she had 
 never seen her husband, who, in his heart, warmly 
 seconded that wish, wisely resolving not to mention the 
 offending 'Lena again in the presence of his "wife. 
 
 The next day the bargain for Woodlawn was com- 
 pleted, after which, Mr. and Mrs. Graham, together 
 with Durward, returned to Louisville, intending to take 
 possession of their new home about the first of October. 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 15d 
 
 CHAPTER Xli 
 
 MRS. GRAHAM AT HOME. 
 
 As the summer advanced, extensive preparations 
 were commenced for repairing Woodlawn, which was 
 to be fitted up in a style suited to the luxurious taste 
 of its rightful owner, which, as report said, was in real- 
 ity Durward. He had conceived a fancy for the place 
 five years before, when visiting in the neighborhood, 
 and on learning that it was for sale, he had purchased 
 it, at the suggestion of his mother, proposing to his 
 father that for a time, at least, he should be its nominal 
 possessor. What reason he had for this he hardly 
 knew himself, unless it was that he disliked being flat- 
 tered as a man of great wealth, choosing rather to be 
 esteemed for what he really was. 
 
 And, indeed, few of his age were more generally be- 
 loved than he was. Courteous, kind-hearted, and gen- 
 erous almost to a fault, he gained friends wherever he 
 went, and it was with some reason that Mrs. Graham 
 thought herself blessed above mothers, in the possession 
 of such a son. "He is so like me," she would say, in 
 speaking of his many virtues, when, in fact, there was 
 scarcely anything in common between them, for nearly 
 all of Durward's sterling qualities were either inherited 
 from his own father, or the result of many years' com- 
 panionship with his stepfather. Possessed of the most 
 exquisite taste, he exercised it in the arrangement of 
 Woodlawn, which, under his skillful management, be- 
 
156 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 gan in a few weeks to assume a more beautiful appear 
 ance than it had ever before worn. 
 
 Once m two weeks either Mr. Graham or Durward 
 came out to see how matters were progressing, the latter 
 usually accepting Mrs. Livingstone's pressing invitation 
 to make her house his home. This he was the more 
 willing to do, as it threw him into the society of 'Lena, 
 who was fast becoming an object of absorbing interest 
 to him. The more he saw of her, the more was his 
 admiration increased, and oftentimes, when joked con- 
 cerning his preference for Carrie, he smiled to think 
 how people were deceived, determining, however, to 
 keep his own secret until such time as he should be con- 
 vinced that 'Lena was all he could desire in a wife. 
 For her poverty and humble birth he cared nothing. 
 If she were poor, he was rich, and he possessed too 
 much good sense to deem himself better than she, be- 
 cause the blood of a nobleman flowed in his veins. He 
 knew that she was highly gifted and beautiful, and 
 could he be assured that she was equally true-hearted, 
 he would not hesitate a moment. 
 
 But Mrs. Livingstone's insinuation that she was a 
 heartless coquette troubled him, and though he could 
 not believe it without more proof than he had yet re- 
 ceived, he determined to wait and watch, studying her 
 character the while, to see if there was in her aught of 
 evil. In this state of affairs, it was hardly more than 
 natural that his manner toward her should be rather 
 more reserved than that which he assumed toward Car- 
 rie, for whom he cared nothing, and with whom he 
 talked, laughed, and rode, forgetting her the moment 
 she was out of his sight, and never suspecting how 
 much importance she attached to his every word and look, 
 construing into tokens of admiration the most casual 
 remark, such as he would utter to any one. This was 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 157 
 
 of advantage to 'Lena, for, secure of their prize, both 
 Mrs. Livingstone and Carrie, for a time, at least, 
 ceased to persecute her, seldom speaking of her in Dur- 
 ward's presence, and, as a general thing, acting as 
 though she were not in existence. 
 
 John Jr., too, who had imposed upon himself the 
 duty of watching his mother and sister, seeing no signs 
 of hostility, now withdrew his espionage, amusing him- 
 self instead by galloping three times a week over to 
 Frankfort, the home of Nellie Douglass, and by keep- 
 ing an eye upon Captain Atherton, who, as a spider 
 would watch a fly, was lying in wait for the unsuspect- 
 ing Anna. 
 
 At last all was in readiness at Woodlawn for the re- 
 ception of Mrs. Graham, who came up early in October, 
 bringing with her a larger train of house servants than 
 was often seen in Woodford county. About three 
 weeks after her arrival invitations were issued for a 
 party or "house-warming" as the negroes termed it. 
 Nero, Durward's valet, brought the tiny notes to Mr. 
 Livingstone's, giving them into the care of Carrie, who 
 took them immediately to her mother's room. 
 
 "It's Durward's handwriting," said she glancing at 
 the superscriptions and reading them as she did so — 
 "Mr. and Mrs. Livingstone" — "Mr. John Livingstone 
 Jr." — "Miss Carrie Livingstone" — "Miss Anna Living- 
 stone" — "Miss '''Lena Rivers j" and here she stopped, in 
 utter dismay, continuing, as her mother looked up in- 
 quiringly — "And, as I live, one for grandma — "Mrs. 
 Martha Nichols!'" 
 
 "Impossible!" exclaimed Mrs. Livingstone, reaching 
 out her hand for the billet. "Yes, 'tis Mrs. Martha 
 Nichols ! — what can it mean?" 
 
 A peep behind the scenes would have told her what 
 it meant. For once in his life Mr. Graham had exer* 
 
158 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 cised the right of being master in his own house, declaiv 
 ing that if Mrs. Nichols were not invited with the fam- 
 ily, there should be no party at all. Mrs. Graham saw 
 that he was in earnest, and yielded the point, knowing 
 that in all probability the old lady would not be per- 
 mitted to attend. Her husband had expected a like 
 opposition with regard to 'Lena, but he was disap- 
 pointed, for his wife, forgetting her declaration that 
 'Lena should never darken her doors, and thinking it 
 would not do to slight her, consented that, on her 
 uncle's account, she should be invited. Accordingly, 
 the notes were dispatched, producing the effect we have 
 seen. 
 
 "How perfectly ridiculous to invite grandma !" said 
 Carrie. "It's bad enough to have 'Lena stuck in with 
 us, for of course she'll go." 
 
 "Why of course?" asked Mrs. Livingstone. "The 
 invitations are at my disposal now ; and if I choose to 
 withhold two of them, no one will be blamed but Nero, 
 who was careless and dropped them ! 'Lena has nothing 
 decent to wear, and I don't feel like expending much 
 more for a person so ungrateful as she is. You ought 
 to have heard how impudent she was that time you all 
 went to Woodlawn. " 
 
 Then followed a one-sided description of that morn- 
 ing's occurrence, Mrs. Livingstone working herself up 
 to such a pitch of excitement, that before her recital 
 was finished, she had determined at all events to keep 
 back 'Lena's invitation, as a method of punishing her 
 for her "insolence," as she termed it. 
 
 "Mrs. Graham will thank me for it, I know," said 
 she, "for she cannot endure her; and besides that, I 
 don't think 'Lena expects to be invited, so there's no 
 harm done." 
 
 Carrie was not yet quite so hardened as her mother, 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 159 
 
 and for a moment her better nature shrank from so 
 mean a transaction, which might, after all, be found 
 out, involving them in a still worse difficulty ; .but as 
 the thought flashed upon her that possibly 'Lena might 
 again attract Durward toward her, she assented, and 
 i,hey were about putting the notes aside, when John Jr. 
 came in, catching up his grandmother's note the first 
 thing, and exclaiming, "Oh, rich — capital! I hope 
 she'll go !" Then, before his mother could interpose a 
 word, he darted away in quest of Mrs. Nichols, whose 
 surprise was fully equal to that of Mrs. Livingstone 
 and Carrie. 
 
 "Now, you don't say I've got an invite," said she, 
 leaving the darning-needle in the stocking-heel which 
 she was mending, and wiping her steel-bowed spectacles. 
 "Come, 'Leny, you read it, that's a good girl." 
 
 'Lena complied, and taking the note from her cousin's 
 hand, read that Mrs. Graham would be at home Thurs- 
 day evening, etc. 
 
 "But where's the invite? That don't say anything 
 about me!" said Mrs. Nichols, beginning to fear that it 
 was a humbug after all. 
 
 As well as they could, 'Lena and John Jr. explained 
 it to her, and then, fully convinced that she was really 
 invited, Mrs. Nichols began to wonder what she should 
 wear, and how she should go, asking John "if he 
 couldn't tackle up and carry her in the shay," as she 
 called the si igle buggy. 
 
 "Certainly," answered John Jr., willing to do any- 
 thing for the sake of the fun which he knew would 
 ensue from his grandmother's attendance. 
 
 'Lena thought otherwise, for much as she desired to 
 gratify her grandmother, she would not for the world 
 expose her to the ridicule which her appearance at % 
 fashionable party would call forth. Glancing reprov- 
 
160 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 ingly at her cousin, she said, "I wouldn't, think of 
 going, grandma, for you are lame and old, and there'll 
 be so many people there, all strangers, too, that you 
 won't enjoy it at all. Besides that, we'll have a nice 
 time at home together — I'll read to you all the evening. " 
 
 "We," repeated John Jr. "Pray, are you not 
 going?" 
 
 4 'Not without an invitation," said 'Lena, smilingly. 
 
 "True, true," returned her cousin. "It's downstairs, 
 I dare say. I only stopped to look at this, I'll go and 
 get yours now." 
 
 "Suiting the action to the word, he descended to his 
 mother's room, asking for " 'Lena's card." 
 
 "'Lena's card! What do you mean?" said Mrs. Liv- 
 ingstone, looking up from the book she was reading 
 while Carrie for a moment suspended her needlework. 
 
 " 'Lena's invitation ; you know well enough what I 
 mean," returned John Jr., tumbling over the notes 
 which lay upon the table, and failing to find the one 
 for which he was seeking. 
 
 "You'll have to ask Mrs. Graham for it, I presume, 
 as it's not here," was Mrs. Livingstone's quiet answer. 
 
 "Thunder!" roared John Jr., "'Lena not invited! 
 That's a smart caper. But there's some mistake about 
 it, I know. Who brought them?" 
 
 "Nero brought them," said Carrie, "and I think it is 
 strange that grandmother should be invited and 'Lena 
 left out. But I suppose Mrs. Graham has her reasons. 
 She don't seem to fancy 'Lena much. " 
 
 "Mrs. Graham go to grass," muttered John Jr., 
 leaving the room, and slamming the door after him 
 with great violence. 
 
 It was a pity he did not look in one of the drawers 
 of his mother's workbox, for there, safe and sound, lay 
 the missing note ! But he did not think of that. He 
 
LENA RIVERS. 161 
 
 only knew that 'Lena was slighted, and for the next 
 two hours he raved and fretted, sometimes declaring he 
 would not go, and again wishing Mrs. Graham in a 
 temperature but little suited to her round, fat propor- 
 tions. 
 
 "Wall, if they feel too big to invite 'Leny, they 
 needn't expect to see me there, that's just all there is 
 about it," said grandma, settling herself in her rocking 
 chair, and telling Lena "she wouldn't care an atom if 
 she's in her place. " 
 
 But 'Lena did care. No one likes to be slighted, and 
 she was not an exception to the general rule. Owing 
 to her aunt's skillful management she had never yet at- 
 tended a large party, and it was but natural that she 
 should now wish to go. But it could not be, and she 
 was obliged to content herself with the hopes of a min- 
 ute description from Anna; Carrie she would not trust, 
 for she well knew that whatever she told would be 
 greatly exaggerated. 
 
 Mrs. Graham undoubtedly wished to give her friends 
 ample time to prepare, for her invitations were issued 
 nearly a week in advance. This suited Carrie, who 
 had a longer time to decide upon what would be becom- 
 ing, and when at last a decision was made, she could 
 do nothing but talk about her dress, which really was 
 beautiful, consisting of a pink and white silk, with an 
 overskirt of soft, rich lace. This, after it was com- 
 pleted, was tried on at least half a dozen times, and the 
 effect carefully studied before the long mirror. Anna, 
 who cared much less for dress than her sister, decided 
 upon a black flounced skirt and velvet basque. This 
 was Mr. Everett's taste, and whatever suited him suited 
 her. 
 
 "I do think it's too bad that 'Lena is not invited," 
 said she one day, when Carrie, as usual, was discussing 
 
162 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 the party. "She would enjoy it so much. I don't 
 understand, either, why she is omitted, for Mr. Graham 
 seemed to like her, and Durward too " 
 
 "A great ways off, you mean," interrupted Carrie. 
 "For my part, I see nothing strange in the omission. 
 It is no worse to leave her out than scores of others who 
 will not be invited. " 
 
 "But to come into the house and ask all but her," 
 said Anna. "It does not seem right. She is as good 
 as we are. " 
 
 "That's as people think," returned Carrie, while 
 John Jr., who was just going out to ride, and had 
 stopped a moment at the door, exclaimed, "Zounds, 
 Cad, I wonder if you fancy yourself better than 'Lena 
 Rivers. If you do, you are the only one that thinks so. 
 Why, you can't begin to compare with her, and it's a 
 confounded shame that she isn't invited, and so I shall 
 tell them if I have a good chance. " 
 
 "You'll look smart fishing for an invitation, won't 
 you?" said Carrie, her fears instantly aroused, but John 
 Jr was out of her hearing almost before the words 
 were uttered. 
 
 Mounting Firelock, he started off for Versailles, fall- 
 ing in with Durward, who was bound for the same 
 place. After the usual greetings were exchanged, Dur- 
 ward said, "I suppose you are all coming on Thursday 
 night?" 
 
 "Yes," returned John Jr., "I believe the old folks, 
 Cad, and Anna intend doing so." 
 
 "But where's Miss Rivers? Doesn't she honor us 
 with her presence?" asked Durward in some concern. 
 
 John Jr.'s firet impulse, as he afterward said, was 
 "to knock him off from his horse;" but a second thought 
 convinced him there might be some mistake ; so he re- 
 plied that "it was hardly to be supposed Miss Rivers 
 
"LENA RIVERS. 163 
 
 would attend without an invitation — she wasn't quite s<? 
 verdant as that !" 
 
 "Without an invitation !" repeated Durward, stopping 
 short in the road. ' ' 'Lena not invited ! It isn't so ! I 
 directed one to her myself, and gave it to Nero, together 
 with the rest which were designed for your family, He 
 must have lost it. I'll ask him the moment I get home, 
 and see that it is all made right. She must come, any 
 way, for I wouldn't give " 
 
 Here he stopped, as if he had said too much, but 
 John Jr. finished the sentence for him. 
 
 "Wouldn't give a picayune for the whole affair with- 
 out her — that's what you mean, and why not say so? I 
 speak right out about Nellie, and she isn't onehalf as 
 handsome as 'Lena." 
 
 "It isn't 'Lena's beauty that I admire altogether," 
 returned Durward. "I like her for her frankness, and 
 because I think her conduct is actuated by the best of 
 principles ; perhaps I am mistaken " 
 
 "No, you are not," again interrupted John Jr. 
 " 'Lena is just what she seems to be. There's no decep- 
 tion in her. She isn't one thing to-day and another to- 
 morrow. Spunky as the old Nick, you know, but still 
 she governs her temper admirably, and between you and 
 me, I know I'm a better man than I should have been 
 had she never come to live with us. How well I re- 
 member the first time I saw her," he continued, repeat- 
 ing to Durward the particulars of their interview in 
 Lexington, and describing her introduction to his sisters. 
 "From the moment she refused to tell that lie for me, 1 
 liked her," said he, "and when she dealt me that blow 
 in my face, my admiration was complete. " 
 
 Durward thought he could dispense with the blow, 
 but he laughed heartily at John's description of his 
 spirited cousin, thinking, too, how different was his 
 
164 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 opinion of her from that which his mother evidently 
 entertained. Still, if Mrs. Livingstone was prejudiced, 
 John Jr. might also be somewhat biased, so he would 
 not yet make up his mind ; but on one thing he was 
 resolved — she should be invited, and for fear of contin- 
 gencies, he would carry the card himself. 
 
 Accordingly, on his return home, Nero was closely 
 questioned, and negro-like, called down all manner of 
 evil upon himself "if he done drapped the note any 
 whar. 'Strue as I live and breathe, Mas'r Bellmont," 
 said he, "I done carried Miss 'Leny's invite with the 
 rest, and guv 'em all to the young lady with the big 
 nose !" 
 
 Had Durward understood Mrs. Livingstone a little 
 better, he might have believed him ; but now it was but 
 natural for him to suppose that Nero had accidentally 
 dropped it. So he wrote another, taking it himself, and 
 asking for "Miss Rivers." Carrie, who was in the par- 
 lor and saw him coming up to the house, instantly flew 
 to the glass, smoothing her collar, puffing out her hair a 
 little more, pinching her cheek, which was not quite so 
 red as usual, and wishing that she was alone. But un- 
 fortunately, both Anna and 'Lena were present, and as 
 there was no means of being rid of them, she retained 
 her seat at the piano, carelessly turning over the leaves 
 of her music book, when the door opened, and Corinda, 
 not Durward appeared. 
 
 "If you please, Miss 'Lena," said the girl, Marster 
 Bellmont want to speak with you in the hall. " 
 
 "With 'Lena! How funny!" exclaimed Carrie. 
 "Are you sure it was 'Lena?" 
 
 "Yes, sure — he done ask for Miss Rivers." 
 
 "Ask him in, why don't you?" said Carrie, suspect- 
 ing his errand, and thinking to keep herself from all 
 suspicion by appearing "wonderfully pleased" that 
 
"LENA RIVERS. 165 
 
 'Lena was not intentionally neglected. Before Corinda 
 could reply, 'Lena had stepped into the hall, and was 
 standing face to face with Durward, who retained her 
 hand, while he asked if "she really believed they in- 
 tended to slight her," at the same time explaining how 
 it came to his knowledge, and saying "he hoped she 
 would not fail to attend. " 
 
 'Lena hesitated, but he pressed her so hard, saying 
 he should surely think she distrusted them if she re- 
 fused, that she finally consented, and he took his leave, 
 playfully threatening to come for her himself if she 
 were not there with the rest. 
 
 "You feel Letter now, don't you?" said Carrie with a 
 sneer, as 'Lena re-entered the parlor. 
 
 "Yes, a great deal,'' was 'Lena's truthful answer. 
 
 "Oh, I'm real glad!" exclaimed Anna. "I most 
 knew 'twas a mistake all the time, and I did so want 
 you to go. What will you wear? Let me see. Why, 
 you haven't got anything suitable, have you?" 
 
 This was true, for 'Lena had nothing fit for the occa- 
 sion, and she was beginning to wish she had not been 
 invited, when her uncle came in, and to him Anna 
 forthwith stated the case, saying 'Lena must have a 
 new dress, and suggesting embroidered muslin. 
 
 "How ridiculous!" muttered Carrie, thrumming 
 away at the piano. "There's no time to make dresses 
 now. They should have invited her earlier." 
 
 "Isn't Miss Simpson still here?" asked her father. 
 
 Anna replied that she was, and then turning to 'Lena, 
 Mr. Livingstone asked if "she wanted to go very 
 much. " 
 
 The tears which shone in her eyes were a sufficient 
 answer, and when at supper that night, inquiry was 
 made for Mr. Livingstone, it was said that he had gone 
 to Frankfort. 
 
166 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 "To Frankfort!" repeated his wife. "What has he 
 gone there for?" 
 
 No one knew until late in the evening, when he re- 
 turned home, bringing with him 'Lena's dress, which 
 Anna pronounced "the sweetest thing she ever saw," 
 at the same time running with it to her cousin. There 
 was company in the parlor, which for a time kept down 
 the gathering storm in Mrs. Livingstone's face, but the 
 moment they were gone, and she was alone with her 
 husband in their room, it burst forth, and in angry 
 tones she demanded 'Svhat he meant by spending her 
 money in that way, and without he?* consent?" 
 
 Before making any reply, Mr. Livingstone stepped 
 to her work-box, and opening the little drawer, held to 
 view the missing note. Then turning to his wife whose 
 face was very pale, he said, "This morning I made a 
 discovery which exonerates Nero from all blame. I 
 understand it fully, and while I knew you were capable 
 of almost anything, I must say I did not think you 
 would be guilty of quite so mean an act. Stay, " he 
 continued, as he saw her about to speak, "You are my 
 wife, and as 'Lena is at Last invited, your secret is safe, 
 but remember, it must not be repeated. You under- 
 stand me, do you?'' 
 
 Mrs. Livingstone was struck dumb with mortification 
 and astonishment — the first, that she was detected, and 
 the last, that her husband dare assume such language 
 toward her. But he had her in his power — she knew 
 that — and for a time it rendered her very docile, causing 
 her to consult with Miss Simpson concerning the fitting 
 of 'Lena's dress, herself standing by when it was done, 
 and suggesting one or two improvements, until 'Lena, 
 perfectly bewildered, wondered what had come over her 
 aunt, that she should be so unusually kind. Carrie, 
 too, learning from her mother how matters stood, 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 16? 
 
 thought proper to change her manner, and while in her 
 heart she hoped something would occur to keep 'Lena 
 at home, she loudly expressed her pleasure that she was, 
 going, offering to lend her several little ornaments, and 
 doing many things which puzzled 'Lena, who readily 
 saw that she was feigning what she did not feel. 
 
 Meanwhile, grandma, learning that 'Lena was in- 
 vited, declared her intention of going. "I shouldn't 
 of gin up in the first on't," said she, "only I wanted to 
 show 'em proper resentment ; but now it's different, and 
 I'll go, anyway — 'Tilda may say what she's a mind 
 to." 
 
 It was in vain that 'Lena reasoned the case. Grand-* 
 ma was decided, and it was not until both her son and 
 daughter interfered, the one advising and the other 
 commanding her to stay at home, that she yielded with 
 a burst of tears, for grandma was now in her second, 
 childhood, and easily moved. It was terrible to 'Lena 
 to see her grandmother weep, and twining her arms 
 around her neck, she tried to soothe her, saying, "she 
 would willingly stay at home with her if she wished it. " 
 
 Mrs. Nichols was not selfish enough to suffer this. 
 "No, 'Leny," said she, "I want you to go and enjoy 
 yourself while you are young, for you'll sometime be old 
 and in the way f and the old creature covered her face 
 with her shriveled hands and wept. 
 
 But she was of too cheerful a nature long to remem- 
 ber grief, and drying her tears, she soon forgot her 
 trouble in the pride and satisfaction which she felt when 
 she saw how well the white muslin became 'Lena, who, 
 John Jr. said, never looked so beautifully as she did 
 when arrayed for the party. Mr. Livingstone had not 
 been sparing of his money when he purchased the 
 party dress, which was a richly embroidered muslin,, 
 and fell in soft folds around 'Lena's graceful figure.. 
 
16S 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 Her long, flowing curls were intertwined with a few 
 natural flowers, her only attempt at ornament of any 
 kind, and, indeed, ornaments would have been sadly 
 out of place on 'Lena. 
 
 It was between nine and ten when the party from 
 Maple Grove reached Woodlawn, where they found a 
 large company assembled, some in the drawing rooms 
 below, and others still lingering at the toilet in the 
 dressing chamber. Among these last were Nellie 
 Douglass and Mabel Ross, the latter of whom Mrs. 
 Livingstone was perfectly delighted to see, overwhelm- 
 ing her with caresses, and urging her to stop for a while 
 at Maple Grove. 
 
 "I shall be so glad to have you with us, and the 
 country air will do you so much good, that you must 
 not refuse," said she, pinching Mabel's sallow cheek, 
 and stroking her straight, glossy hair, which, in con- 
 trast with the bandeau of pearls that she wore, looked 
 dark as midnight. 
 
 Spite of her wealth, Mabel had long been accustomed 
 to neglect, and there was something so kind in Mrs. 
 Livingstone's motherly demeanor, that the heart of the 
 young orphan warmed toward her, and tears glittered 
 in her large, mournful eyes, the only beauty, save her 
 hair, of which she could boast. Yery few had ever 
 cared for poor Mabel, who, though warm-hearted and 
 affectionate, required to be known in order to be appre 
 ciated, and as she was naturally shy and retiring, there 
 were not many who felt at all acquainted with her. 
 Left alone in the world at a very early age, she had 
 never known what it was to possess a real, disinterested 
 friend, unless we except Nellie Douglass, who, while 
 there was nothing congenial between them, had always 
 tried to treat Mabel as she herself would wish to bo 
 treated, were she in like circumstances. 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 169 
 
 Many had professed friendship for the sake of the 
 gain which they knew would accrue, for she was gener- 
 ous to a fault, bestowing with a lavish hand upon those 
 whom she loved, and who had too often proved false," 
 denouncing her as utterly spiritless and insipid. So 
 often had she been deceived, that now, at the age of 
 eighteen, she had learned to distrust her fellow-crea- 
 tures, and oftentimes in secret would she weep bitterly 
 over her lonely condition, lamenting the plain face and 
 unattractive manners, which she fancied rendered her 
 an object of dislike. Still there was about her a depth 
 of feeling of which none had ever dreamed, and it only 
 required a slrillf ul hand to mold her into an altogether 
 different being. She was, perhaps, too easily influ- 
 enced, for in spite of her distrust, a pleasant word or 
 kind look would win her to almost anything. 
 
 Of this weakness Mrs. Livingstone seemed well aware, 
 and for the better accomplishment of her plan, she 
 deemed it necessary that Mabel should believe her to be 
 the best friend she had in the world. Accordingly, she 
 now nattered and petted her, calling her "darling," and 
 "dearest," and urging her to stop at Maple Grove, until 
 sb" consented, "provided Nellie Douglass were willing." 
 
 "Oh, I don't care," answered Nellie, whose gay, 
 dashing disposition poorly accorded with the listless, 
 sickly Mabel, and who felt it rather a relief than other- 
 wise to be rid of her. 
 
 So it was decided that she should stay at Maple 
 Grove, and then Mrs. Livingstone, passing her arm 
 around her waist, whispered, "Go down with me," at 
 the same time starting for the parlor, followed by her 
 daughters, Nellie, and 'Lena. In the hall they met 
 with John Jr. He had heard Nellie's voice, and 
 stationing himself at the head of the stairs, was waiting 
 her appearance. 
 
170 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 "Miss Ross," said Mrs. Livingstone to her son, at the 
 same time indicating her willingness to give her into 
 his care. 
 
 But John Jr. would not take the hint. Bowing stiffly 
 to Mabel, he passed on toward Nellie, in his eagerness 
 stepping on Carrie's trail, and drawing from her an ex- 
 clamation of anger at his awkwardness. Mrs. Living- 
 stone glanced backward just in time to see the look of 
 affection with which her son regarded Nellie, as she 
 placed her soft hand confidingly upon his arm, and gazed 
 upward smilingly into his face. She dared not slight 
 Miss Douglass in public, but with a mental invective 
 against her, she drew Mabel closer to her side, and 
 smoothing down the heavy folds of her moire antique, 
 entered the drawing room, which was brilliantly lighted, 
 and filled with the beauty and fashion of Lexington, 
 Frankfort, and Versailles. 
 
 At the door they met Durward, who as he took 
 'Lena's hand said, "It is well you remembered your 
 promise, for I was about starting after you." This 
 observation did not escape Mrs. Livingstone, who, be- 
 sides having her son and Nellie under her special 
 cognizance, had also an eye upon her niece and Anna. 
 Her espionage of the latter, however, was not needed 
 immediately, owing to her being straightway appropri- 
 ated to Captain Atherton, who, in dainty white -kids, 
 and vest to match (the color, not the material, ) strutted 
 back and forth with Anna tucked under his arm, until 
 the poor girl was ready to cry with vexation. 
 
 When the guests had nearly all arrived, both Mr. 
 Graham and Durward started for 'Lena, the latter 
 reaching her first, and paying her so many little atten- 
 tions that the curiosity of others was aroused, and fre- 
 quently was the question asked, "Who is she, the beau- 
 tiful young lady in white muslin and curls?" 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 171 
 
 Nothing of all this escaped Mrs. Livingstone, and 
 once, m passing near her niece, she managed to whis- 
 per, "For Heaven's sake don't show your ignorance of 
 etiquette by taxing Mr. Bellmont's good nature any 
 longer. Its very improper to claim any one's attention 
 so long, and you are calling forth remarks. " 
 
 Then quickly changing the whisper into her softest 
 tones, she said to Durward, "How can you resist such 
 beseeching glances as those ladies send toward you?" 
 nodding to a group of girls of which Carrie was one. 
 
 'Lena colored scarlet, and gazed wistfully around the 
 room in quest of some other shelter when Durward 
 should relinquish her, as she felt he would surely do, 
 but none presented itself. Her uncle was playing the 
 agreeable to Misc Atherton, Mr. Graham to some other 
 lady, while John Jr. kept closely at Nellie's side, for- 
 getful of all else. 
 
 "What shall I do?" said 'Lena, unconsciously and 
 half aloud. 
 
 "Stay with me," answered Durward, drawing her 
 hand further within his arm, and bending upon her a 
 look of admiration which she could not mistake. 
 
 Several times they passed and re-passed Mrs. Gra- 
 ham, who was highly incensed at her son's proceedings, 
 and at last actually asked him, "if he did not intend 
 noticing any one except Miss Rivers," adding, as an 
 apology for her rudeness, for Mrs. Graham prided her- 
 self upon being very polite in her own house, "she has 
 charms enough to win a dozen gallants, but there are 
 others here who need attention from you. There's Miss 
 Livingstone, you've hardly spoken with her to-night. " 
 
 Thus importuned, Durward released 'Lena and 
 walked away, attaching himself to Carrie, who clung 
 to him closer, if possible, than did the old captain to 
 Anna. About this time Mr. Everett came. He had 
 
172 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 been necessarily detained, and now, after paying his 
 respects to the host and hostess, he started in quest of 
 Anna, who was still held "in durance vile" by the cap- 
 tain. But the moment she saw Malcolm, she uttered a 
 low exclamation of joy, and without a single apology, 
 broke abruptly away from her ancient cavalier, whose 
 little watery eyes looked daggers after her for an in 
 stant ; then consoling himself with the reflection that he 
 was tolerably sure of her, do what she would, he walked 
 up to her mother, kindly relieving her for a time of her 
 charge, who was becoming rather tiresome. Fre- 
 quently, by nods, winks, and frowns, had Mrs. Living- 
 stone tried to bring her son to a sense of his improper 
 conduct in devoting himself exclusively to one individual, 
 and neglecting all others. 
 
 But her efforts were all in vain. John Jr. was in- 
 corrigible, slyly whispering to Nellie, that "he had no 
 idea of beauing a medicine chest. " This he said, refer- 
 ring to Mabel's ill-health, for among his other oddities, 
 John Jr. had a particular aversion to sickly ladies. 
 Of course Nellie reproved him for his unkind remarks, 
 at the same time warmly defending Mable, "who," she 
 said, "had been delicate from infancy, and suffered far 
 more than was generally suspected. " 
 
 "Let her stay at home, then," was John Jr.'s answer, 
 as he led Nellie toward the supperroom, which the 
 company were just then entering. 
 
 About an hour after supper the guests began to leave, 
 Mrs. Livingstone being the first to propose going. As 
 she was ascending the stairs, John Jr. observed that 
 Mabel was with her, and turning to 'Lena, who now 
 leaned on his arm, he said, "There goes the future Mrs. 
 John Jr. — so mother thinks!" 
 
 "Where?" asked 'Lena, looking around. 
 
 "Why, there," continued John, pointing toward 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 173 
 
 Mabel. "Haven't you noticed with what parental 
 solicitude mother watches over her?" 
 
 "I saw them together," answered 'Lena, "and I 
 thought it very kind in my aunt, for no one else seemed 
 to notice her, and I felt sorry for her. She is going 
 home with us, I believe." 
 
 "Going home with ms/" repeated John Jr. "In the 
 name of the people, what is she going home with us 
 for?" 
 
 "Why," returned 'Lena, "your mother thinks the 
 country air will do her good. " 
 
 " ZJn-doubtedly," said John, with a sneer. "Mother's 
 motives are usually very disinterested. I wonder she 
 don't propose to the old captain to take up his quarters 
 with us, so she can nurse him !" 
 
 With this state of feeling, it was hardly natural that 
 John Jr. should be very polite toward Mabel, and when 
 his mother asked him to help her into the carriage, he 
 complied so ungraciously, that Mabel observed it, and 
 looked wonderingly at her patroness for an explanation. 
 
 "Only one of his freaks, love — he'll get over it," said 
 Mrs. Livingstone, while poor Mabel, sinking back 
 among the cushions, wept silently, thinking that every- 
 body hated her. 
 
 When 'Lena came down to bid her host and hostess 
 good night, the former retained her hand, while he ex- 
 pressed his sorrow at her leaving so soon. "I meant 
 to have seen more of you," said he, "but you must visit 
 us often — will you not?" 
 
 Neither the action nor the words escaped Mrs. 
 Graham's observation, and the lecture which she that 
 night read her offending spouse, had the effect to keep 
 him awake until the morning was growing gray in the 
 east. Then, when he was asleep, he so far forgot him- 
 self and the wide-open ears beside him as actually to 
 breath the name of 'Lena in his dreams 
 
174 'LENA RIVERS, 
 
 Mm Graham needed no further confirmation of her 
 suspicions, and at the breakfast table next morning, she 
 gave her son a lengthened account of her husband's 
 great sin in dreaming of a young girl, and that girl 
 'Lena Rivers. Durward laughed heartily, and then, 
 either to tease his mother, or to make his father's guilt 
 less heinous in her eyes, he replied, "It is a little singu- 
 lar that our minds should run in the same channel, for 
 -I, too, dreamed of 'Lena Rivers !" 
 
 Poor Mrs. Graham. A double task was now im- 
 posed upon her — that of watching both husband and 
 son; but she was accustomed to it, for her life, since 
 her second marriage, had been one continued series of 
 watching for evil where there was none. And now, 
 with a growing hatred toward 'Lena, she determined to 
 increase her vigilance, feeling sure she should discover 
 something if she only continued faithful to the end. 
 
'LENA RIVERS, ITS 
 
 CHAPTER XIJL 
 
 MABEL. 
 
 The morning following the party, Mr. Livingstone 1 ** 
 family were assembled in the parlor, discussing the 
 various events of the previous night. John Jr., 'Lena, 
 and Anna declared themselves to have been highly 
 pleased with everything, while Carrie, in the worst of 
 humors, pronounced it "a perfect bore," saying she 
 never had so disagreeable a time in all her life, and 
 ending her ill-natured remarks by a malicious thrust at 
 'Lena, for having so long kept Mr. Bellmont at her 
 side. 
 
 "I suppose you fancy he would have looked better 
 with you, but I think he showed his good taste by pre- 
 ferring 'Lena," said John Jr. ; then turning toward the 
 large easy chair, where Mabel sat, pale, weary, and 
 spiritless, he asked "how she had enjoyed herself." 
 
 With the exception of his accustomed "good morn- 
 ing," this was the first time he had that day addressed 
 her, and it was so unexpected that it brought a bright 
 glow to her cheek, making John Jr. think she was "not 
 so horridly ugly after all." 
 
 But she was very unfortunate in her answer, which 
 was, "that on account of her ill health, she seldom en- 
 joyed anything of the kind." Then pressing her hand 
 upon her forehead, she continued, "My head is aching 
 dreadfully, as a punishment for last night's dissipation." 
 
 Three times before, be had heard her speak of her 
 
176 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 aching head, and now, with an impatient gesture, he 
 was turning away, when his mother said, "Poor girl, 
 she really looks miserable. I think a ride would do her 
 good. Suppose you take her with you — * heard you 
 say you were going to Versailles." 
 
 If there was anything in which Mabel excelled, it 
 was horsemanship, she being a better rideT, if possible, 
 than 'Lena, and now, at Mrs. Livingstone's proposition., 
 she looked up eagerly at John Jr., who replied: 
 
 'Oh, hang it all! mother, I can't always bo bothered 
 with a girl ;" then as he saw how Mabel's countenance 
 fell, he continued, "Let 'Lena ride with her — she wants 
 to, I know." 
 
 "Certainly," said Lena, whose heart warmed toward 
 the orphan girl, partly because she was an orphan, and 
 partly because she saw that she was neglected and un- 
 loved. 
 
 As yet Mabel cared nothing for John Jr., nor even 
 suspected his mother's object in detaining her as a 
 guest. So when 'Lena was proposed as a substitute, 
 she seemed equally well pleased, and the young man, 
 as he walked off to order the ponies, mentally termed 
 himself a bear for his rudeness; "for after all," thought 
 he, "it's mother who has designs upon me, not Mabel. 
 She isn't to blame." 
 
 This opinion once satisfactorily settled, it was strange 
 how soon John Jr. began to be sociable with Mabel, 
 finding her much more agreeable than he had at first 
 supposed, and even acknowledging to 'Lena that "she 
 was a good deal of a girl, after all, were it not for her 
 everlasting headaches and the smell of medicine," which 
 he declared she always carried about with her. 
 
 "Hush-sh," said 'Lena, "you shan't talk so, for she 
 is sick a great deal, and she does not feign it, either." 
 
 "Perhaps not," returned John Jr.. "but she can at 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 177 
 
 least keep her miserable feelings to herself. Nobody 
 wants to know how many times she's been blistered and 
 Wed!" 
 
 Still John Jr. acknowledged that there were some 
 things in Mabel which he liked, for no one could live 
 long with her and not admire her gentleness and uncom- 
 mon sweetness of disposition, which manifested itself in 
 numerous little acts of kindness to those around her. 
 Never before in her life had she been so constantly asso- 
 ciated with a young gentleman, and as she was quite 
 susceptible, it is hardly more than natural that erelong 
 thoughts of John Jr. mingled in both her sleeping and 
 waking dreams. She could not understand him, but 
 the more his changeful moods puzzled her, the more she 
 felt interested in him, and her eyes would alternately 
 sparkle at a kind word from him, or fill with tears at 
 the abruptness of his speeches ; while he seemed to take 
 special delight in seeing how easily he could move her 
 from one extreme to the other. 
 
 Silently Mrs. Livingstone looked on, carefully noting 
 each change, and warily calculating its result. Not 
 once since Mabel became an inmate of her family had 
 she mentioned her to her son, for she deemed it best to 
 wait, and let matters take their course. But at last, 
 anxious to know his real opinion, she determined to 
 sound him. Accordingly, one day when they were 
 alone, sh& spoke of Mabel, asking him if he did not 
 think she improved upon acquaintance, at the same 
 time enumerating her many excellent qualities, and say- 
 ing that whoever married her would get a prize, to say 
 nothing of a fortune. 
 
 Quickly comprehending the drift of her remarks, 
 John Jr. replied, "I dare say, and whoever wishes for 
 both prize and fortune, is welcome to them for all me." 
 
 "I thought you liked Mabel," said hi& mother; and 
 
178 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 John answered, "So I do like her, but for pity's sake, 
 is a man obliged to marry every girl he likes? Mabel 
 does very well to tease and amuse one, but when you 
 come to the marrying part, why, that's another thing. " 
 
 "And what objection have you to her?" continued his 
 mother growing very fidgety and red. 
 
 "Several," returned John. "She has altogether too 
 many aches and pains to suit me ; then she has no spirit 
 whatever ; and last, but not least, I like somebody else. 
 So, mother mine, you may as well give up all hope of 
 that hundred thousand down in Alabama, for I shall 
 never marry Mabel Ross, never." 
 
 Mrs. Livingstone was now not only red and fidgety, 
 but very angry, and in an elevated tone of voice, she 
 said, "I s'pose it's Nellie Douglass you mean; but if you 
 knew all of her that I do, I reckon " 
 
 Here she paused, insinuating that she could tell some- 
 thing dreadful, if she would! But John Jr. took no 
 notice of her hints, and when he got a chance, he re- 
 plied, "You are quite a Yankee at guessing, for if 
 Nellie will have me, I surely will have her. " 
 
 "Marry her, then," retorted his mother — "marry her, 
 with all her poverty, but for Heaven's sake, don't give 
 so much encouragement to a poor defenseless girl. " 
 
 Wishing Mabel in Guinea, and declaring he'd neither 
 speak to nor look at her again, if common civilities 
 were construed into encouragement, John Jr. strode out 
 of the room, determining, as the surest method of end- 
 ing the trouble, to go forthwith to Nellie, and in a 
 plain, straightforward way make her an offer of him- 
 self. With him, to will was to do, and in about an 
 hour he was descending the long hill which leads into 
 Frankfort. Unfortunately, Nellie had gone for a few 
 weeks to Madison, and again mounting Firelock, the 
 young man galloped back, reaching home just as the 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 179 
 
 family were sitting down to supper. Not feeling 
 hungry, and wishing to avoid, as long as possible, the 
 sight of his mother and Mabel, whom he believed were 
 leagued against him, he repaired to the parlor, whistling 
 loudly, and making much more noise than was at all 
 necessary. 
 
 "If you please, Mr. Livingstone, won't you be a little 
 moie quiet, for my head aches so hard to-night," said 
 a languid voice, from the depths of the huge easy chair 
 which stood before the glowing grate. 
 
 Glancing toward what he had at first supposed to be 
 a bundle of shawls, John Jr. saw Mabel Ross, her fore- 
 head bandaged up and her lips white as ashes, while 
 the purple rings about her heavy eyes, told of the pain 
 she was enduring. 
 
 "Thunder!" was John's exclamation, as he strode 
 from the room, slamming together the door with un- 
 usual force. 
 
 When Mrs. Livingstone came in from supper, with a 
 cup of hot tea and a slice of toast for Mabel, she was 
 surprised to find her sobbing like a child. It did not 
 take long for her to learn the cause, and then, as well 
 as she could, she soothed her, telling her not to mind 
 John's freaks — it was his way, and he always had a 
 particular aversion to sick people, never liking to hear 
 them talk of their ailments. This hint was sufficient 
 for Mabel, who ever after strove hard to appear well 
 and cheerful in his presence. But in no way, if he 
 could help it, would he notice her. 
 
 Next to Mrs. Livingstone, 'Lena was Mabel's best 
 friend, and when she saw how much her cousin's rude- 
 ness and indifference pained her, she determined to talk 
 with him about it. So the first time they were alone, 
 she broached the subject, speaking very kindly of 
 Mabel, and asking if he had any well-grounded reason 
 
180 *LENA RIVERS, 
 
 for his uncivil treatment of her. There was no person 
 in the world who possessed so much influence over John 
 Jr. as did 'Lena, and now hearing her patiently 
 through, he replied, "I know I'm impolite to Mabel, 
 but hang me if I can help it. She is so flat and silly, 
 and takes every little attention from me as a declaration 
 of love. Still, I don't blame her as much as I do 
 mother, who is putting her up to it, and if she'd only 
 go home and mind her own business, I should like her 
 well enough. " 
 
 "I don't understand you," said 'Lena, and her cousin 
 continued: "Why, when Mabel first came here, I do 
 not think she knew what mother was fishing for, so she 
 was not so much at fault, but she does now " 
 
 "Are you sure?" interrupted 'Lena, and John Jr. re- 
 plied, "She's a confounded fool if she don't. And 
 what provokes me, is to think she'll still keep staying 
 here, when modesty, if nothing else, should prompt her 
 to leave. You wouldn't catch Nellie doing so. Why, 
 she'll hardly come here at all, for fear folks will say she 
 comes to see me, and that's why I like her so well. " 
 
 "I think you are mistaken with regard to Mabel," 
 said 'Lena, "for I've no idea she's in love with 3^ou a 
 bit more than I am. I dare say she likes you well 
 enough, for there's nothing in you to dislike." 
 
 "Thank you," interrupted John Jr., returning the 
 compliment with a kiss, a liberty he often took with 
 her. 
 
 "Behave, can't you?" said 'Lena, at the same time 
 continuing — "No, I don't suppose Mabel is dying for 
 you at all. All of us girls like to receive attention from 
 you gentlemen, and she's not an exception. Besides 
 that, you ought to be polite to her, because she's your 
 mother's guest, if for nothing else. I don't ask you to 
 love her," said she, "but I do ask you to treat her well. 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 181 
 
 Kind words cost nothing, and they go far toward mak- 
 ing others happy. " 
 
 "So they do," answered John, upon whom 'Lena's 
 words were having a good effect. "I've nothing under 
 heaven against Mabel Ross, except that mother wants 
 me to marry her; but if you'll warrant me that the 
 young lady herself has no such intentions, why, I'll do 
 my very best. " 
 
 "I'll warrant you," returned 'Lena, who really had 
 no idea that Mabel cared aught in particular for her 
 cousin, and satisfied with the result of her interview, 
 she started to leave the room. 
 
 As she reached the door, John Jr. stopped her, say- 
 ing, "You are sure she don't care for me?" 
 
 "Perfectly sure," was 'Lena's answer. 
 
 "The plague, she don't," thought John, as the door 
 closed upon 'Lena ; and such is human nature, that the 
 young man began to think that if Mabel didn't care for 
 him, he'd see if he couldn't make her, for, after all, 
 there was something pleasant in being liked, even by 
 Mabel! 
 
 The next day, as the young ladies were sitting to- 
 gether in the parlor, John Jr. joined them, and after 
 wringing Carrie's nose, pulling 'Lena's and Anna's 
 curls, he suddenly upset Mabel's work-box, at the same 
 time slyly whispering to his cousin, "Ain't I coming 
 round?" 
 
 Abrupt as this proceeding was, it pleased Mabel, 
 who, with the utmost good humor, commenced picking 
 up her things, John Jr. assisting her, and managing 
 once to bump his head against hers ! After this, affairs 
 at Maple Grove glided on as smoothly as even Mrs. 
 Livingstone could wish. John and Mabel were appar~ 
 ently on the most amicable terms, he deeming 'Lena's 
 approbation a sufficient reward for the many little atten* 
 
182 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 tions which he paid to Mabel, and she, knowing nothing 
 of all that had passed, drinking in his every word and 
 look, learning to live upon his smile, and conforming 
 herself, as far as possible, to what she thought would 
 best please him. 
 
 Gradually, as she thought it would do, Mrs. Living- 
 stone unfolded to Mabel her own wishes, saying she 
 should be perfectly happy could she only call her 
 "daughter," and hinting that such a thing "by wise 
 management could easily be brought about. " With a 
 gush of tears the orphan girl laid her head in Mrs. Liv- 
 ingstone's lap, mentally blessing her as her benefactress, 
 and thanking the Giver of all good for the light and 
 happiness which she saw dawning upon her pathway. 
 
 "John is peculiar," said Mrs. Livingstone, '.'and if he 
 fancied you liked him very much, it might not please 
 him as well as indifference on your part. " 
 
 So, with this lesson, Mabel for the first time in her 
 life attempted to act as she did not feel, feigning care- 
 lessness or indifference when every pulse of her heart 
 was throbbing with joy at some little attention paid her 
 by John Jr., who could be very agreeable when he 
 chose, and who, observing her apparent indifference 
 began to think that what 'Lena had said was true, and 
 that Mabel really cared nothing for him. With this 
 impression he exerted himself to be agreeable, wondering 
 how her many good qualities had so long escaped his 
 observation. 
 
 "There is more to her than I supposed," said he one 
 day to 'Lena, who was commending him for his im- 
 proved manner. "Yes, a heap more than I supposed. 
 Why, I really like her !" 
 
 And he told the truth, for with his prejudice laid 
 aside, he, as is often the case, began to find virtues in 
 her, the existence of which he had never suspected. 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 183 
 
 Frequently, now, he talked, laughed, and rode with 
 her, praising her horsemanship, pointing out some 
 points wherein it might be improved, and never dream- 
 ing the while of the deep affection his conduct had 
 awakened in the susceptible girl. 
 
 "Oh, I am so happy," said she one day to 'Lena, 
 who was speaking of her improved health. "I never 
 thought it possible for me to be so happy. I dreaded 
 to come here at first, but now I shall never regret it, 
 never. " 
 
 She was standing before the long mirror in the parlor, 
 adjusting the feathers to her tasteful velvet cap, which, 
 with her neatly fitting riding dress, became her better 
 than anything else. The excitement of her words sent 
 a deep glow to her cheek, while her large black eyes 
 sparkled with unusual brilliancy. She was going out 
 with John Jr., who, just as she finished speaking, ap- 
 peared in the doorway, and catching a glimpse of her 
 face, exclaimed in his blunt, jocose way, "Upon my 
 word, Meb, if you keep on, you'll get to be quite decent 
 looking in time. " 
 
 'Twas the first compliment of the kind he had ever 
 paid her, and questionable as it was, it tended to 
 strengthen her fast forming belief that her affection for 
 him was returned. 
 
 "I can't expect him to do anything like other people, 
 he's so odd," thought she, and yet it was this very odd- 
 ness which charmed her. 
 
 At length Nellie, who had returned from Madison, 
 and felt rather lonely, wrote to Mabel, asking her to 
 come home. This plan Mrs. Livingstone opposed, but 
 Mabel was decided, and the week before Christmas was 
 fixed upon for her departure. John Jr. , anxious to see 
 Nellie, proposed accompanying her, but when the day 
 came he was suffering from a severe cold, whieh ren- 
 
184 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 dered his stay in the house absolutely necessary. S« 
 his mother, who had reasons of her own for doing so, 
 went in his stead. Carrie, who never had any fancy 
 for Mabel, and only endured her because she was rich, 
 was coolly polite, merely offering her hand, and then 
 resumed the novel she was reading, even before Mabel 
 had left. Anna and 'Lena bade her a more affectionate 
 adieu, and then advancing toward John Jr. , who, in 
 dressing gown and slippers, reclined upon the sofa, she 
 offered him her hand. 
 
 As if to atone for his former acts of rudeness, the 
 3 r oung man accompanied her to the door, playfully 
 claiming the privilege of taking leave just as his sister 
 and cousin had done. 
 
 "It's only me, you know," said he, imprinting upon 
 her forehead a kiss which sent the rich blood to her 
 neck and face. 
 
 John Jr. would not have dared to take that liberty 
 with Nellie, while Mabel, simple-hearted and wholly un- 
 used to the world, saw in it a world of meaning and for 
 a long time after the carriage rolled away from Maple 
 Grove the bright glow on her cheek told of happy 
 thoughts within. 
 
 "Did my son say anything definite to you before you 
 left?" asked Mrs. Livingstone as they came within sight 
 of the city. 
 
 "No madam," answered Mabel, and Mrs. Livingstone 
 continued, "That's strange. He confessed to me that 
 he — ah — he — loved you, and I supposed he intended tell- 
 ing you so ; but bashf ulness prevented I dare say !" 
 
 Accustomed as she was to equivocation, this down- 
 right falsehood cost Mrs. Livingstone quite an effort, 
 but she fancied the case required it, and after a few 
 twinges, her conscience felt easy, particularly when she 
 saw how much satisfaction her words gave to her com- 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 185 
 
 panion, to whom the improbability of the affair never 
 occurred. Could she have known how lightly John 
 Jr. treated the matter, laughingly describing his leave- 
 taking to his sisters and 'Lena, and saying, "Meb 
 wasn't the worst girl in the world, after all, " she might 
 not have been so easily duped. 
 
 But she did not know all this, and thus was the delu- 
 sion perfect. 
 
186 'LENA RIVERS, 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 NELLIE AND MABEL. 
 
 Nellie Douglass sat alone in her chamber, which 
 was filled with articles of elegance and luxury, for ner 
 father, though far from being wealthy, still loved to 
 surround his only daughter with everything which could 
 increase her comfort. So the best, the fairest, and the 
 most costly was always for her, his "darling Nellie," 
 as he called her, when with bounding footsteps she flew 
 to greet him on his return at night, ministering to his 
 wants in a thousand ways, and shedding over his home 
 such a halo of sunshine that ofttimes he forgot that he 
 was a lonely widower, while in the features of his pre- 
 cious child he saw again the wife of his bosom, who 
 years before had passed from his side forever. 
 
 But not on him were Nellie's thoughts resting, as 
 she sat there alone that afternoon. She was thinking of 
 the past — of John Livingstone, and the many marked 
 attentions, which needed not the expression of words to 
 tell her she was beloved. And freely did her heart re- 
 spond. That John Jr. was not perfect, she knew, but 
 he was noble and generous, and so easily influenced by 
 those he loved, that she knew it would be an easy task 
 to soften down some of the rougher shades of his char- 
 acter. Three times during her absence had he called, 
 expressing so much disappointment, that with woman's 
 ready instinct she more than half -divined his intentions, 
 and regretted that she was gone. But Mabel was com- 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 187 
 
 Ing to-day, and he was to accompany her, for so had 
 'Lena written, and Nellie's cheeks glowed and her heart 
 beat high, as she thought of what might occur. She 
 knew well that in point of wealth she was not his equal, 
 for though mingling with the first in the city, her father 
 was poor — but one of John Jr. 's nature would never 
 take that into consideration. They had known each 
 other from childhood, and he had always evinced for 
 her the same preference which he now manifested. 
 Several weeks had elapsed since she had seen him, and 
 now, rather impatiently, she awaited his arrival. 
 
 "If you please, ma'am, Mrs. Livingstone and Miss 
 Mabel are in the parlor," said a servant, suddenly ap- 
 pearing and interrupting her reverie. 
 
 "Mrs. Livingstone!" she repeated, as she glanced at 
 herself in a mirror, and rearranged one side of her shin- 
 ing hair, "Mrs. Livingstone — and so he has not come. 
 I wonder what's the matter !" and with a less joyous 
 face she descended to the back parlor, where, with rich 
 furs wrapped closely about her, as if half -frozen, sat 
 Mrs. Livingstone, her quick eye taking an inventory of 
 every article of furniture, and her proud spirit whisper- 
 ing to herself , "Poverty, poverty." 
 
 With a cry of joy, Mabel flew to meet Nellie, who, 
 while welcoming her back, congratulated her upon her 
 improved health and looks, saying, "the air of Maple 
 Grove must have agreed with her ;" then turning toward 
 Mrs. Livingstone, who saw in her remark other mean- 
 ing than the one she intended, she asked her to remove 
 her wrappings, apologizing at the same time for the 
 fire's being so low. 
 
 "Father is absent most of the day," said she, "and 
 as I am much in my chamber, we seldom keep a fire in 
 the front parlor. 
 
 "Just as well," answered Mrs. Livingstone, remov- 
 
188 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 ing her heavy furs. "One fire is cheaper than two, and 
 in these times I suppose it is necessary for some people 
 to economize." 
 
 Nellie colored, not so much at the words as at the 
 manner of her visitor. After a moment, Mrs. Living- 
 stone again spoke, looking straight in Nellie's face. 
 
 "My son was very anxious to ride over with Mabel, 
 but a, bad cold prevented him, so she rather unwillingly 
 took me as a substitute. " 
 
 Here not only Nellie, but Mabel, also colored, and 
 the latter left the room. When she was gone, Nellie 
 remarked upon the visible improvement in her health. 
 
 "Yes," said Mrs. Livingstone, setting herself a little 
 more easily in her chair, "Yes, Mabel isn't the same 
 creature she was when she came to us, but then it's no 
 wonder, for love, you know, will work miracles. " 
 
 No answer from Nellie, who almost instinctively felt 
 what was coming next. 
 
 "Upon my word, Miss Douglass, you've no curiosity 
 whatever. Why don't you ask with whom Mabel is 
 in love?" 
 
 "Who is it?" laughingly asked Nellie, nervously play- 
 ing with the tassel of her blue silk apron. 
 
 After a moment, Mrs. Livingstone replied, "It may 
 seem out of place for me to speak of it, but I know you, 
 Miss Douglass, for a girl of excellent sense, and feel 
 sure you will not betray me to either party. " 
 
 "Certainly not," answered Nellie, rather haughtily, 
 while her tormentor continued: "Well, then, it is my 
 son, and I assure you, both myself and husband are 
 well pleased that it should be so. From the moment I 
 first saw Mabel, I felt for her a motherly affection for 
 which I could not account, and if I were now to select 
 my future daughter-in-law, I should prefer her to all 
 others." 
 
? LENA RIVERS. 189 
 
 Here ensued a pause which Nellie felt no inclination 
 to break, and again Mrs. Livingstone spoke: "It may 
 be a weakness, but I have always felt anxious that 
 John should make a match every way worthy of him, 
 both as to wealth and station. Indeed, I would hardly 
 be willing for him to marry one whose fortune is less 
 than Mabel's. But I need have no fears, for John has 
 his own views on that subject, and though he may 
 sometimes be attentive to girls far beneath him, he is 
 pretty sure in the end to do as J think best !" 
 
 Poor Nellie ! How every word sank into her soul, 
 torturing her almost to madness. She did not stop to 
 consider the improbability of what she heard. Natur- 
 ally impulsh r e and excitable, she believed it all, for if 
 John Jr. really loved her, as once she had fondly be- 
 lieved, had there not been a thousand opportunities for 
 him to tell her so? At this moment Mabel re-entered 
 *he parlor, and Nellie, on the plea of seeing to the din- 
 ner left the room, going she scarce knew whither, until 
 she found herself in a little arbor at the foot of the gar- 
 den, where many and many a time John Jr. had sat 
 with her, and where he would never sit again — so she 
 thought, so she believed — and throwing herself upon 
 one of the seats, she struggled hard to school herself to 
 meet the worst — to conquer the bitter resentment which 
 she felt rising within her toward Mabel, who had sup- 
 planted her in the affections of the only one she had 
 ever loved. 
 
 Nellie had a noble, generous nature, and after a few 
 moments of calmer reflection, she rose up, strengthened 
 in her purpose of never suffering Mabel to know how 
 deeply she had wronged her. "She is an orphan — a 
 lonely orphan," thought she, "and God forbid that 
 through me one drop of bitterness should mingle in her 
 cup of joy." 
 
190 LENA RIVERS. 
 
 With a firm step she walked to the kitchen, gave 
 some additional orders concerning the dinner, and then 
 returned to the parlor, half -shuddering when Mabel 
 came near her, and then with a strong effort pressing 
 the little blue-veined hand laid so confidingly upon her 
 own. Dinner being over, Mrs. Livingstone, who had 
 some other calls to make, took her leave, bidding a most 
 affectionate adieu to Mabel, who clung to her as if she 
 had indeed been her mother. 
 
 "Good-by, darling Meb," said she. "I shall come 
 for you to visit us erelong." Turning to Nellie, she 
 said, "Do take care of her health, which you know is 
 now precious to more than one;" then in a whisper she 
 added, "Remember that what I have told you is 
 sacred. " 
 
 The next moment she was gone, and mechanically, 
 Nellie returned to the parlor, together with Mabel, 
 whose unusual buoyancy of spirits contrasted painfully 
 with the silence and sadness which lay around her 
 heart. That night, Mr. Douglass had some business in 
 the city, and the two girls were left alone. The lamps 
 were unlighted, for the full golden moonlight, which 
 streamed through the window-panes, suited better the 
 mood of Nellie, who, leaning upon the arm of the sofa, 
 looked listlessly out upon the deep beauty of the night. 
 Upon a little stool at her feet, sat Mabel, her head rest- 
 ing on Nellie's lap, and her hand searching in vain for 
 another, which involuntarily moved farther and farther 
 away, as hers advanced. 
 
 At length she spoke: "Nellie, dear Nellie — there is 
 something I want so much to tell you — if you will hear 
 it, and not think me foolish. " 
 
 "With a strong effort, the hand which had crept away 
 under the sofa-cushion, came back from its hiding- 
 place, and rested upon Mabel's brow, while Nellie's 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 191 
 
 voice answered softly and slow, "What is it, Mabel r I 
 mil hear you." 
 
 Briefly, then, Mabel told the story of her short life, 
 beginning at the time when a frowning nurse tore her 
 away from her dead mother, chiding her for her tears, 
 and threatening her with punishment if she did not 
 desist. "Since then," said she, "I have been so lonely 
 — how lonely, none but a friendless orphan can know.. 
 No one has ever loved me, or if for a time they seemed 
 to, they soon grew weary of me, and left me ten times 
 more wretched than before. I never once dreamed that 
 — that Mr. Livingstone could care aught for one so ugly 
 as I know I am. I thought him better suited for you, 
 .Nellie. (How cold your hand is, but don't take it away, 
 for it cools my forehead.)" 
 
 The icy hand was not withdrawn, and Mabel con- 
 tinued: "Yes, I think him better suited to you, and 
 when his mother told me that he loved me, and that he 
 would, undoubtedly, one day make me his wife, it was 
 almost too much for me to believe, but it makes me so 
 happy — oh, so happy." 
 
 "And he — he too, told you that he lo^ed you?" said 
 Nellie very low, holding her breath for the answer. 
 
 "Oh, no — he never told me in words. 'Twas hi$ 
 mother that told me — he only acted!" 
 
 "And what did he do?" asked Nellie, smiling in spite 
 of herself, at the simplicity of Mabel, who, without any 
 intention of axaggerating, proceeded to tell what John 
 Jr. had said and done, magnifying every attention, 
 until Nellie, blinded as she was by what his mother had 
 said, was convinced that, at all events, he was not tru© 
 to herself. To be sure, ho had never told her he loved 
 her in words; but in actions he had said it many a time, 
 and if he could do the same with Mabel, he must be- 
 false either to one or the other. Always frank and 
 
193 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 open-hearted herself, Nellie despised anything like de 
 eeption in others, and the high opinion she had once 
 entertained for John Jr. was now greatl j changed. 
 
 Still, reason as she would, Nellie could not forget so 
 easily, and the hour of midnight found her restless and 
 wakeful. At length, rising up and leaning upon her 
 elbow, she looked down upon the face of Mabel, who 
 lay sleeping sweetly at her side. Many and bitter were 
 her thoughts, and as she looked upon her rival, mark- 
 ing her plain features and sallow skin, an expression 
 of scorn flittered for an instant across her face. 
 
 "And she is preferred to me!" said she. "Well, let 
 it be so, and God grant I may not hate her." 
 
 Erelong, better feelings came to her aid, and with 
 her arms wound round MabeFs neck, as if to ask for- 
 giveness for her unkind thoughte, she fell asleep. 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 193 
 
 CHAPTER XV, 
 
 MRS. LIVINGSTONE'S CALLS AND THEIR RESULT. 
 
 After leaving Mr. Douglass', Mrs. Livingston© 
 ordered her coachman to drive her around to the house 
 of Mrs. Atkins, where she was frequently in the habit 
 of stopping, partly as a matter of convenience when 
 visiting in town, and partly to learn the latest news of 
 the day, for Mrs. Atkins was an intolerable gossip. 
 Without belonging exactly to the higher circles, she 
 still managed to keep up a show of intimacy with them, 
 possessing herself with their secrets, and kindly intrust- 
 ing them to the keeping of this and that "dear friend." 
 
 From her, had Mrs. Livingstone learned to a dime 
 the amount of Mr. Douglass' property, and how he was 
 obliged to economize in various ways, in order to keep 
 up the appearance of style. From her, too, had she 
 learned how often her son was in the habit of calling 
 there, and what rumor said concerning those calls, 
 while Mrs. Atkins had learned, in return, that the am- 
 bitious lady had other views for John, and that any- 
 thing which she, Mrs. Atkins, could do to further the 
 plans of her friend, would be gratefully received. On 
 this occasion she was at home, and of course delighted 
 to meet Mrs. Livingstone. 
 
 "It is such an age since I've seen you, that I began 
 to fear you were offended at something," said she, as 
 she led the way into a cozy little sitting room, where a 
 cheerful wood fire was blazing on the nicely painted 
 
194 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 hearth. *'Do sit down and make yourself as comforta« 
 ble as you can, on such poor accommodations. I have 
 just finished dinner, but will order some for you." 
 
 "No, no," exclaimed Mrs. Livingstone, "I dined at 
 Mr. Douglass' — thank you." 
 
 "Ah, indeed," returned Mrs. Atkins, feeling a good 
 deal relieved, for to tell the truth, her larder, as was 
 often the case, was rather empty. Dined at Mr. Doug- 
 lass' ! Of course, then, nothing which I could offer you 
 could be acceptable after one of his sumptuous meals. 
 I suppose Nellie brought out all her mother's old silver, 
 and made quite a display. It's a wonder to me how 
 they hold their heads so high, and folks notice them as 
 they do, for between you and me, I shouldn't be sur- 
 prised to hear of his failing any minute." 
 
 "Is it possible?" said Mrs. Livingstone. 
 
 "Why, yes," returned Mrs. Atkins. "There's noth- 
 ing to prevent it, they say, except a moneyed marriage 
 on the part of Nellie, who seems to be doing her best." 
 
 "Has she any particular one in view?" asked Mrs. 
 Livingstone, and Mrs. Atkins, aware of Mrs. Living- 
 stone's aversion to the match, replied, "Why, you know 
 she tried to get your son " 
 
 "But didn't succeed," interrupted Mrs. Livingstone. 
 
 "No, didn't succeed. You are right. Well, now it 
 seems she's spreading sail for a Mr. Wilbur, of Madi- 
 son " 
 
 Mrs. Livingstone's eyes sparkled eagerly, and not to 
 lose one word she drew her chair nearer to her friend, 
 who proceeded : "He's a rich bachelor — brother to Mary 
 Wilbur, Nellie's most intimate friend. You've heard 
 of her?" 
 
 "Yes, yes," returned Mrs. Livingstone. "Hasn't 
 Nellie been visiting her?" 
 
 "Her or her brother," answered Mrs. Atkins. 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 195 
 
 "Mary s health is poor, and you know it's mighty con- 
 venient for Nellie to go there, under pretense of staying 
 with her." 
 
 "Exactly," answered Mrs. Livingstone, with a satis- 
 fied smile, and another hitch of her chair toward Mrs. 
 Atkins, who, after a moment, continued: "The brother 
 came home with Nellie, staid over Sunday, rode out 
 with her Monday, indorsed ever so many notes for her 
 father, so I reckon, and then went home. If that 
 don't mean something, then I'm mistaken" — and Mrs. 
 Atkins rang for a glass of wine and a slice of cake. 
 
 After an hour's confidential talk, in which Mrs. Liv- 
 ingstone told of Mabel's prospects, and Mrs. Atkins 
 told how folks who were at Mr. Graham's party praised 
 'Lena Rivers' beauty, and predicted a match between 
 her and Mr. Bellmont, the former arose to go; and 
 calling upon one or two others, and by dint of quizzing 
 and hinting, getting them to say "they shouldn't be 
 surprised if Mr. Wilbur did like Nellie Douglass," she 
 started for home, exulting to think how everything 
 seemed working together for her good, and how, in the 
 denouement, nothing particular could be laid to her 
 charge. 
 
 "I told Nellie no falsehood," thought she. "I did 
 not say John loved Mabel ; I only said she loved him, 
 leaving all else for her to infer. And it has commenced 
 operating, too, I could see it in the spots on her face 
 and neck, when I was talking. Nellie's a fine girl, 
 though, but too poor for the Livingstones ;" and with 
 this conclusion, she told the coachman to drive faster, 
 as she was in a hurry to reach home. 
 
 Arrived at Maple Grove, she found the whole family, 
 grandma and all, assembled in the parlor, and with 
 them Durward Bellmont. His arm was thrown care- 
 lessly across the back of 'Lena's chair, while he occa- 
 
196 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 sionally bent forward to look at a book of prints which 
 she was examining. The sight of him determined her 
 to wait a little, ere she retailed her precious bit of gossip 
 to her son. He was Nellie's cousin, and as such, would 
 in all probability repeat to her what he heard. How- 
 ever communicative John Jr. might be in other re- 
 spects, she knew he would never discuss his heart- 
 troubles with any one, so, upon second thought, she 
 deemed it wiser to wait until they were alone. 
 
 Durward and 'Lena, however, needed watching, and 
 by a little maneuvring, she managed to separate them, 
 greatly to the satisfaction of Carrie, who sat upon the 
 sofa, one foot bent under her, and the other impatiently 
 tapping the carpet. From the moment Durward took 
 his seat by her cousin, she had appeared ill at ease, and 
 as he began to understand her better, he readily guessed 
 that her silent mood was owing chiefly to the attentions 
 he paid to 'Lena, and not to a nervous headache, as she 
 said, when her grandmother, inquiring the cause of her 
 silence, remarked, that "she'd been chipper enough 
 until Mr. Bellmont came in. " 
 
 But he did not care. He admired 'Lena, and John 
 Jr. like, it made but little difference with him who 
 knew it. Carrie's freaks, which he plainly saw, rather 
 amused him than otherwise, but of Mrs. Livingstone 
 he had no suspicion whatever. Consequently, when 
 she sent 'Lena from the room on some trifling errand, 
 herself appropriating the vacated seat, he saw in it no 
 particular design, but in his usual pleasant way com- 
 menced talking with Carrie, who brightened up so 
 much that grandma asked "if her headache wasn't 
 e'en-a'most well !" 
 
 When 'Lena returned to the parlor, Durward was 
 proposing a surprise visit to Nellie Douglass some time 
 during the holidays. " w 9'll invite Mr. Everett, and 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 197 
 
 all go down, What do you say, girls?" said he, turn- 
 ing toward Carrie and Anna, but meaning 'Lena quite 
 as much as either of them. 
 
 "Capital," answered Anna, visions of a long ride 
 with Malcolm instantly passing before her mind. 
 
 "I should like it very much," said Carrie, visions of a 
 ride with Durward crossing her mind. 
 
 "And I, too," said 'Lena, laying her hand on John 
 Jr. 's shoulder, as if he would of course be her escort. 
 
 Carrie's ill-nature had not all vanished, and now, in 
 a slightly insolent tone she said, "How do you know 
 you are included?" 
 
 'Lena was about to reply, when Durward, a little 
 provoked at Carrie's manner, prevented her by saying, 
 "Of course I meant Miss Rivers, and I will now do 
 myself the honor of asking her to ride with me, either 
 on horseback or in a carriage, just as she prefers." 
 
 In a very graceful manner 'Lena accepted the invita- 
 tion, saying that "she always preferred riding on horse- 
 back, but as the pony which she usually rode had 
 recently been sold, she would be content to go in any 
 other way. " 
 
 "Fleetfoot sold! what's that for?" asked Anna ; and 
 her mother replied, "We've about forty horses on oui 
 hands now, and as Fleetfoot was seldom used by any 
 one except 'Lena, your father thought we couldn't 
 afford to keep him. " 
 
 She did not dare tell the truth of the matter, and say 
 that ever since the morning when 'Lena rode to Wood' 
 lawn with Durward, Fleetfoot's fate had been decreed. 
 Repeatedly had she urged the sale upon her husband, 
 who, wearied with her importunity, at last consented, 
 selling him to a neighboring planter, who had taken 
 him away that very day. 
 
 "That's smart," said John Jr. looking at his father, 
 
198 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 who had not spoken. "What is 'Lena going to ride, I 
 should like to know." 
 
 'Lena pressed his arm to keep him still, but he would 
 not heed her. ' ' Isn't there plenty of feed for Fleetfoot?" 
 ."Certainly," answered his father, compelled now to 
 speak; "plenty of feed, but Fleetfoot was getting old 
 and sometimes stumbled. Perhaps we'll get 'Lena a 
 better and younger horse. " 
 
 This was said in a half timid way. which brought 
 the tears to 'Lena's eyes, for at the bottom of it all she 
 saw her aunt, who sat looking into the glowing grate, 
 apparently oblivious to all that was passing around her. " 
 
 "That reminds me of Christmas gifts," said Dur- 
 ward, anxious to change the conversation. "I wonder 
 how many of us will get one?" 
 
 Ere there was any chance for an answer, a servant 
 appeared at the door, asking Mrs. Livingstone for some 
 medicine for old Aunt Polly, the superannuated negress, 
 who will be remembered as having nursed Mrs. Fiends 
 during her attack of rheumatism, and for whom grand- 
 ma had conceived a strong affection. For many days 
 she had been very ill, causing Mrs. Livingstone to won- 
 der "what old niggers wanted to live for, bothering 
 everybody to death. " 
 
 The large stock of abolitionism which Mrs. Nichols 
 had brought with her from Massachusetts was a little 
 diminished by force of habit, but the root was there 
 still in all its vigor, and since Aunt Polly's illness she 
 had been revolving in her mind the momentous ques- 
 tion, whether she would not be most guilty if Polly 
 were suffered to die in bondage. 
 
 "I promised Nancy Scovandyke," said she, "that I'd 
 have some on 'em set free, but I'll be bound if 'taint 
 harder work than I s'posed 't would be. " 
 
 Still Aunt Polly's freedom lay warm at grandma's 
 
'LENA RIVERS 199 
 
 heart, and now when she was mentioned together with 
 "Christmas gifts," a bright idea entered her mind. 
 
 "John," said she to her son, when Corinda had gone 
 with the medicine, "John, have you ever made me a 
 Christmas present since I've been here?" 
 
 "I believe not," was his answer. 
 
 "Wall," continued grandma, "bein's the fashion, 1 
 wan't you to give me somethin' this Christmas, will 
 you?" 
 
 "Certainly," said he, "what is it?" 
 
 Grandma replied that she would rather not tell him 
 then — she would wait until Christmas morning, which 
 came the next Tuesday, and here the conversation 
 ended. Soon after, Durward took his leave, telling 
 'Lena he should call for her on Thursday. 
 
 "That's a plaguy smart feller," said grandma, as the 
 door closed upon him ; "and I kinder think he's got a 
 notion after 'Leny. " 
 
 "Ridiculous!" muttered Mrs. Livingstone, while 
 Carrie added, "Just reverse it, and say she has a notion 
 after him!" 
 
 "Shut up your head," growled John Jr. "You are 
 only angry because he asked her to accompany him, 
 instead of yourself. I reckon he knows what he's 
 about. " 
 
 "I reckon he does, too!" said Mrs. Livingstone, with 
 a peculiar smile, which nettled 'Lena more than any 
 open attack would have done. 
 
 With the exception of his mother, John Jr. was the 
 last to leave the parlor, and when all the rest were gone, 
 Mrs. Livingstone seized her opportunity for telling him 
 what she had heard. Taking a light from the table, he 
 was about retiring, when she said, "I learned some 
 news to-day which a little surprised me. " 
 
 "Got it from Mother Atkins, I suppose," answered 
 -John, still advancinar toward the door 
 
200 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 "Partly from her, and partly from others," said his 
 mother, adding, as she saw him touch the door-knob, 
 "It's about Nellie Douglass." 
 
 This was sufficient to arrest his attention, and turn- 
 ing about, he asked, "What of her?" 
 
 "Why, nothing of any great consequence, as I know 
 of," said Mrs. Livingstone, "only people in Frankfort 
 think she's going to be married." 
 
 "J think so, too," was John's mental reply, while his 
 verbal one was, "Married! To whom?" 
 
 "Did you ever hear her speak of Mary Wilbur?" 
 
 "Yes, she's been staying with her ever since Mrs. 
 Graham's party." 
 
 "Well, Mary, it seems, has a brother, a rich old bache- 
 lor, who they say is very attentive to Nellie. He came 
 home with her from Madison, staying at her father's 
 the rest of the week, and paying her numberless atten- 
 tions, which " 
 
 "I don't believe it," interrupted John Jr., striking 
 his fist upon the table, to which he had returned. 
 
 "Neither did I, at first," said his mother, "but I heard 
 it in so many places that there must be something in it. 
 And I'm sure it's a good match. He is rich, and will- 
 ing they say, to help her father, who is in danger of 
 failing any moment." 
 
 Without knowing it, John Jr. was a little inclined to 
 be jealous, particularly of those whom he loved very 
 much, and now suddenly remembering to have heard 
 .Nellie speak in high terms of Robert Wilbur, he began 
 to feel uneasy, lest what his mother had said were true. 
 She saw her advantage, and followed it up until, in a 
 fit of anger he rushed from the room and repaired to his 
 own apartment, where for a time he walked backward 
 and forward, chafing like a caged lion, and wishing all 
 manner of evil upon Nellie, if she were indeed false to 
 him. 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 201 
 
 He was very excitable, and at last worked himself up 
 to such a pitch, that he determined upon starting at 
 once for Frankfort, to demand of Nellie if what he had 
 heard were true ! Upon cooler reflection, however, he 
 concluded not to make a "perfect fool of himself," and 
 plunging into bed, he fell asleep, as what man will not, 
 be his trouble what it may. 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 CHRISTMAS GIFTS. 
 
 The sunlight of a bright Christmas morning had 
 hardly dawned upon the earth, when from many a 
 planter's home in the sunny South was heard the joyful 
 cry of "Christmas Gift," "Christmas Gift," as the 
 negroes ran over and against each other, hiding, oft- 
 times, until some one came within hailing distance, 
 when their loud ' ' Christmas Gift" would make all echo 
 again. On this occasion, every servant at Maple Grove 
 was remembered, for Anna and 'Lena had worked both 
 early and late in preparing some little present, and feel- 
 ing amply compensated for their trouble, when they 
 saw how much happiness it gave. Mabel, too, while 
 she stayed, had lent a helping hand, and many a blessing 
 was that morning invoked upon her head from the 
 hearts made glad by her generous gifts. Carrie, when 
 asked to join them, had turned scornfully away, saying 
 "she'd plenty to do, without working for niggers, who 
 could not appreciate it. " So all her leisure hours were 
 spent in embroidering a fine cambric handkerchief, in- 
 tended as a present for Mrs. Graham, and which with 
 a delicate note was, the evening previous, sent to Wood- 
 lawn, with instructions to have it placed nest morning 
 on Mrs. Graham's table. Of course Mrs. Graham felt 
 in duty bound to return the compliment, and looking 
 over her old jewelry, she selected a diamond ring which 
 she had formerly worn, but which was now too small 
 for her fat, chubby fingers. This was immediately for- 
 
•LENA RIVERS. 203 
 
 warded to Maple Grove, reaching there just as the 
 family were rising from the breakfast table. "Oh, isn't 
 it beautiful — splendid — magnificent !" were Carrie's ex- 
 clamations, while she praised Mrs. Graham's generos- 
 ity, secretly wondering if "Durward did not have some- 
 thing to do with it." 
 
 On this point she was soon set right, for the young 
 man himself erelong appeared, and after bidding them 
 all a "Merry Christmas," presented Anna with a pack- 
 age, which, on being opened, proved to be a large and 
 complete copy of Shakespeare, elegantly bound, and 
 bearing upon its heavy golden clasp the words, "Anna 
 Livingstone, from Durward." 
 
 "This you will please accept from me," said he. 
 "Mother, I believe, has sent Carrie something, and if 
 'Lena will step to the door, she will see her gift from 
 father, who hopes it will give her as much pleasure to 
 accept it as it does him to present it." 
 
 "What can it be?" thought Carrie, rising languidly 
 from the sofa and following 'Lena and her sister to the 
 side door where stood one of Mr. Graham's servants 
 holding a beautiful gray pony all nicely equipped for 
 riding. 
 
 Never dreaming that this was intended for 'Lena 
 Carrie looked vacantly around, saying, "Why, where is 
 it; I don't see anything." 
 
 "Here," said Durward, taking the bridle from the 
 negro's hand, and playfully throwing it across 'Lena's 
 neck. "Here it is — this pony, which we call Vesta. 
 Vesta, allow me to introduce you and your new mis- 
 tress, Miss 'Lena, to each other," and catching her up, 
 as if she she been a feather, he placed her in the saddle. 
 Then, at a peculiar whistle, the well-trained animal 
 started off upon an easy gallop, bearing its burden 
 lightly around the yard and back again to the piazza. 
 
204 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 "Do you like her?" lie asked of 'Lena, extending nia 
 arms to lift her down. 
 
 For a moment 'Lena could not speak, her heart was 
 so full. But at last, forcing down her emotion, she re- 
 plied, "Oh, very very much ; but it isn't for me, I know 
 — there must be some mistake. Mr. Graham never in- 
 tended it for me. " 
 
 "Yes he did," answered DurwarcL "He has in- 
 tended it ever since the morning when you and I rode 
 to Woodlawn, A remark which your cousin John 
 made at the table, determined him upon buying and 
 training a pony for you. So here it is, and as I have 
 done my share toward teaching her, you must grant 
 me the favor of riding her to Frankfort day after to- 
 morrow. " 
 
 "Thank you, fihank you — you and Mr. Graham, too 
 — a thousand times," said 'Lena, winding her arms 
 around the neck of the docile animal, who did her best 
 to return the caress, rubbing her face against 'Lena, 
 and evincing her gentleness in various ways. 
 
 By this time Mr. Livingstone had joined them, and 
 while he was admiring the pony, Durward said to him, 
 "I am commissioned by my father to tell you that he 
 will defray all the expense of keeping Vesta. " 
 
 "Don't mention such a thing again," hastily inter- 
 posed Mr. Livingstone. "I can keep fifty horses, if I 
 choose, and nothing will give me more pleasure than to 
 take care of this one for 'Lena, who deserves it if any 
 one does. " 
 
 "That's my Christmas gift from you, uncle, isn't it?" 
 asked 'Lena, the tears gushing from her shining, brown 
 eyes. 
 
 "And now, please, may I return it?" 
 
 "Certainly," said he, and with a nimble spring she 
 caught him around the neck, imprinting upon his lips 
 
1ENA RIVERS. 205 
 
 the first and only kiss she had ever given him ; then, 
 amid blushes and tears, which came from a heart f ul? 
 of happiness, she ran away upstairs followed by the 
 envious eyes of Carrie, who repaired to her mother's 
 room, where she stated all that had transpired — "How 
 Mr. Graham had sent 'Lena a gray pony — how she had 
 presumed to accept it — and how, just to show off before 
 Mr. Bellmont, she had wound her arms around its neck, 
 and then actually kissed pa!" 
 
 Mrs. Livingstone was equally indignant with her 
 daughter, wondering if Mr. Graham had lost his reason, 
 and reckoning his wife knew nothing about Vesta! 
 But fret as she would, there was no help for it. Vesta 
 belonged to 'Lena — Mr. Livingstone had given orders 
 to have it well-cared for — and worse than all the rest, 
 'Lena was to accompany Durward to Frankfort. 
 Something must be done to meet the emergency, but 
 what, Mrs. Livingstone didn't exactly know, and 
 finally concluded to wait until she saw Mrs. Graham. 
 
 Meantime grandma had claimed from her son her 
 promised Christmas gift, which was nothing less than 
 "the freedom of old Aunt Polly." 
 
 "You won't refuse me, John, I know you won't,"' 
 said she, laying her bony hand on his. "Polly's arnt 
 her freedom forty times over, even s'posin' you'd a 
 right to her in the fust place, which I and Nancy Sco- 
 vandyke both doubt; so now set down like a man, 
 make out her free papers, and let me carry 'em to her 
 right away." 
 
 Without a word Mr. Livingstone complied with his 
 mother's request, saying, as he handed her the paper, 
 "It's not so much the fault of the South as of the North 
 that every black under heaven is not free. " 
 
 Grandma looked aghast. Her son, born, brought 
 Tip, and baptized in a purely orthodox atmosphere, to 
 
206 'LENA RIVERS* 
 
 hold such treasonable opinions in opposition to every- 
 thing he'd ever been taught in good old Massachusetts ! 
 She was greatly shocked, but thinking she could not do 
 the subject justice, she said, "Wall, wall, it's of no use 
 for you and I to arger the pint, for I don't know 
 nothin' what I want to say, but if Nancy Scovandyke 
 was here, she'd convince you quick, for she's good 
 'jarnin' as any of the gals now-a-days. " 
 
 So saying, she walked away to Polly's cabin. The 
 old negress was better to-day, and attired in the warm 
 double-gown which Mabel had purchased and 'Lena 
 had made, she sat up in a large, comfortable rocking 
 chair, which John Jr. had given her at the commence- 
 ment of her illness, saying it was "his Christmas gift in 
 advance. " Going straight up to her, grandma laid the 
 paper in her lap, bidding her "read it and thank the 
 Lord." 
 
 "Bless missus' dear old heart," said Aunt Polly, "I 
 can't read a word. " 
 
 "Sure enough," answered Mrs. Nichols, and taking 
 up the paper she read it through, managing to make the 
 old creature comprehend its meaning. 
 
 "Praise the Lord! Praise Marster John, and all the 
 other apostles !" exclaimed Aunt Polly, clasping together 
 her black, wrinkled hands, while tears of joy coursed 
 their way down her cheeks. "The breath of liberty is 
 sweet — sweet as sugar," she continued, drawing long 
 inspirations, as if to make up for lost time. 
 
 Mrs. Nichols looked on, silently thanking God for 
 having made her an humble instrument in contributing 
 so much to another's happiness. 
 
 "Set down," said Aunt Polly, motioning toward a 
 wooden bottomed chair; "set down, and let's talk over 
 this great miracle, which I've prayed and rastled for 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 207 
 
 mighty nigh a hundred times, without havin' an atom 
 of faith that 't would ever be." 
 
 So Mrs. Nichols sat down, and for nearly an hour the 
 old ladies talked, the one of her newly-found freedom, 
 and the other of her happiness in knowing that ' ' 'twas- 
 n't for nothin' she was turned out of her old home and 
 brought away over land and sea to Kentucky." 
 
208 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 CHAPTER XVXL 
 
 FRANKFORT. 
 
 Thursday morning came, bright, sunshiny, and 
 beautiful, and at about 10 o'clock 'Lena, dressed and 
 ready for her ride, came down to the parlor, where she 
 found John Jr. listlessly leaning upon the table with his 
 elbows, and drumming with his fingers. 
 
 "Come, cousin/ 5 said she, "why are you not ready?" 
 
 "Ready for what!" he asked, without raising his 
 head. 
 
 "Why, ready for our visit," replied 'Lena, at the 
 same time advancing nearer, to see what ailed him. 
 
 "All the visit I make to-day won't hurt me, I 
 reckon," said he, pushing his hat a little more to one 
 side and looking up at 'Lena, who, in some surprise, 
 asked what he meant. 
 
 "I mean what I say," was his ungracious answer; 
 "I've no intention whatever of going to Frankfort." 
 
 "Not going?" repeated Lena. "Why not? What 
 will Carrie do?" 
 
 "Stick herself in with you and Durward, I suppose," 
 said John Jr., just as Carrie entered the room, together 
 with Mr. Bellmont, Malcolm, and Anna. 
 
 "Not going? of course then I must stay at home, 
 too," said Carrie, secretly pleased at her brother's deci- 
 sion. 
 
 "Why of course?" asked Durward, who, in the emer- 
 gency, felt constrained to offer his services to Carrie? 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 209 
 
 though he would greatly have preferred 'Lena's com- 
 pany alone. "The road is wide enough for three, and 
 I am fully competent to take charge of two ladies. But 
 why don't you go?" turning to John Jr. 
 
 "Because I don't wish to. If it was anywhere in 
 creation but there, I'd go," answered the young man, 
 hastily leaving the room to avoid all further argument. 
 
 "He does it just to be hateful and annoy me," said 
 Carrie, trying to pout, but making a failure, for she 
 had in reality much rather go under Durward's escort 
 than her brother's. 
 
 The horses were now announced as ready, and in a 
 few moments the little party were on their way, Carrie 
 affecting so much fear of her pony that Durward at last 
 politely offered to lead him awhile. This would of 
 course bring him close to her side, and after a little well 
 feigned hesitation, she replied, "I am sorry to trouble 
 you, but if you would be so kind " 
 
 'Lena saw through the ruse, and patting Vesta gen- 
 tly, rode on in advance, greatly to the satisfaction of 
 Carrie, and greatly to the chagrin of Durward, who 
 replied to his loquacious companion only in monosylla- 
 bles. Once, indeed, when she said something concern- 
 ing 'Lena's evident desire to show off her horsemanship, 
 he answered rather coolly, that "he'd yet to discover in 
 Miss Rivers the least propensity for display of any 
 kind." 
 
 "You've never lived with her," returned Carrie, and 
 there the conversation concerning 'Lena ceased. 
 
 Meantime, Nellie Douglass was engaged in answer- 
 ing a letter that morning received from Mary Wilbur. 
 A few years before, Mary had spent some months in 
 Mr. Douglass' family, conceiving a strong affection for 
 Nellie, whom she always called her sister, and with 
 whom she kept up a regular correspondence. Mary 
 
210 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 was an orphan, living with her only brother, Robert, 
 who was a bachelor of thirty or thirty -five. Once she 
 had ventured to hope that Nellie would indeed be to her 
 a sister, but fate had decreed it otherwise, and her 
 brother was engaged to a lady whom he found a school- 
 girl in Montreal, and who was now at her own home in 
 England. This was well-known to Nellie, but she did 
 not deem it a matter of sufficient importance to discuss, 
 so it was a secret in Frankfort, where Mr. Wilbur's 
 polite attentions to herself was a subject of considerable 
 remark. For a long time Mary had been out of health, 
 and the family physician at last said that nothing could 
 save her except a sea voyage, and as her brother was 
 about going to Europe to consummate his marriage, it 
 was decided that she should accompany him. This she 
 was willing to do, provided Nellie Douglass would go 
 too. 
 
 "It would be much pleasanter," she said, "having 
 some female companion besides her attendant, and then, 
 too, Nellie had relatives in England ;" so she urged her 
 to accompany them, offering to defray all expenses foi 
 the pleasure of her society. 
 
 Since Nellie's earliest recollection, her fondest dreams 
 had been of England, her mother's birthplace ; and now, 
 when so favorable an opportunity for visiting it was 
 presented, she felt strongly tempted to say "Yes." 
 Still, she would give Mary no encouragement until she 
 had seen her father and John Jr. , the latter of whom 
 would influence her decision quite as much as the for- 
 mer. But John Jr. no longer loved her — she was sure 
 of that — and with her father's consent she had half -de- 
 termined to go. Still she was undecided until a letter 
 came from Mary, urging her to make up her mind 
 without delay, as they were to sail the 15th of January. 
 
 "Brother is so sensitive concerning his love affairs,* 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 211 
 
 wrote Mary, "that whether you conclude to join us or 
 not, you will please say nothing about his intended 
 marriage." 
 
 Nellie had seated herself to answer this letter, when a 
 servant came up, saying that "Marster Bellmont, all the 
 Livingstones, and a heap more were downstars, and 
 had sent for her." 
 
 She was just writing, "I will go," when this an- 
 nouncemdnt came, and quickly suspending her pen, she 
 thought, "He's come at last. It may all be a mistake. 
 I'll wait. " With a beating heart she descended to the 
 parlor, where she politely greeted Mr. Everett and Dur- 
 ward, and then anxiously glancing around for the miss- 
 ing one. Mabel, who felt a similar disappointment, 
 ventured to inquire for him, in a low tone, whereupon 
 Carrie replied loudly enough for Nellie to hear, "Oh, 
 pray don't speak of that bear. Why, you don't know 
 how cross he's been ever since — let me see — ever since 
 you came away. He doesn't say a civil word to any- 
 body, and I really wish you'd come back before he kills 
 us all." 
 
 ♦"Did you invite him to come?" said Nellie. 
 
 "To be sure we did," answered Carrie, "and he said, 
 'anywhere in creation but here. ' " 
 
 Nellie needed no further confirmation, and after con- 
 versing awhile with her guests, she begged leave to be 
 excused for a few moments, while she finished a letter 
 of importance, which must go out in the next mail. 
 Alone in her room, she wavered, but the remembrance 
 of the words, "anywhere in creation but there," de- 
 cided her, and with a firm hand she wrote to Mary that 
 she would go. When the letter was finished and sent 
 to the office, Nellie returned to her visitors, who began 
 to rally her concerning the important letter which must 
 be answered. 
 
212 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 "Now, coz," said Durward, pulling her down upon 
 the sofa by his side, "now, coz, I claim a right to know 
 something about this letter. Was it one of acceptance 
 or rejection?" 
 
 "Acceptance, of course," answered Nellie, who, 
 knowing no good reason why her intended tour should 
 be kept a secret, proceeded to speak of it, telling how 
 they were to visit Scotland, France, Switzerland, and 
 Italy, and almost forgetting, in her enthusiasm, how 
 wretched the thought of the journey made her. 
 
 "And Miss Wilbur's brother is to be your escort — he 
 is unmarried I believe?" said Durward, looking steadily 
 upon the carpet. 
 
 In a moment Nellie would have told of his engage- 
 ment, and the object of his going, but she remembered 
 Mary^s request in time, and the blush which the almost 
 committed mistake called to her cheek, was construed 
 by all into a confession that there was something be- 
 tween her and Mr. Wilbur. 
 
 "That accounts for John's sudden churlishness," 
 thought 'Lena, wondering how Nellie could have de- 
 ceived Mm so. 
 
 "Oh, I see it all," exclaimed Mabel. "I understand 
 now what has made Nellie so absent-minded and rest- 
 less these many days. She was making up her mind to 
 become Mrs. Wilbur, while I fancied she was offended 
 with me." 
 
 "I don't know what you mean," answered Nellie's 
 without smiling in the least. "Mary Wilbur wishes 
 me to accompany her to Europe, and I intend doing so. 
 Her brother is nothing to me, nor ever will be. " 
 
 "Quite a probable story," thought Mr. Everett, with- 
 out forming his reflections into words. 
 
 Toward the middle of the afternoon, a violent ringing 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 213 
 
 of the door-bell, and a heavy tramp in the hall, an- 
 nounced some new arrival, and Nellie was about open- 
 ing the parlor door, when who should appear but John 
 Jr. ! From his room he had watched the departure of 
 the party, one moment wishing he was with them, and 
 the next declaring he'd never go to Frankfort again so 
 long as he lived! At length inclination getting the 
 ascendancy of his reason, he mounted Firelock, and 
 rushing furiously down the 'pike, never once slackened 
 his speed until the city was in sight. 
 
 "I dare say she'll think me a fool," thought he, "tag- 
 ging her round, but she needn't worry. I only want to 
 show her how little her pranks affect me. " 
 
 With these thoughts he could not fail to meet Nellie 
 otherwise than coldly, while she received him with 
 equal indifference, calling him Mr. Livingstone, and 
 asking if he were cold, with other questions, such as 
 any polite hostess would ask of her guest. But her 
 accustomed smile and usual frankness of manner were 
 gone, and while John Jr. felt it keenly, he strove, under 
 a mask of indifference, to conceal his chagrin. Mabel 
 seemed delighted to see him and for want of something 
 better to do, he devoted himself to her, calling her Meb, 
 and teasing her about her " Indian locks," as he called 
 her straight, black hair. Could he have seen the bitter 
 tears which Nellie constantly forced back, as she moved 
 carelessly among her guests, far different would have 
 been his conduct. But he only felt that she had been 
 untrue to him, and in his anger he was hardly conscious 
 of what he was doing. 
 
 So when Mabel said to him, "Nellie is going to 
 Europe with Mr. Wilbur and Mary," he replied, "Glad 
 of it — hope she'll" — be drowned, he thought — "have a 
 good time," he said — and Nellie, who heard all, never 
 
214 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 guessed how heavily the blow had fallen, or that the 
 hand so suddenly placed against his heart, was laid 
 there to still the wild throbbing which he feared she 
 might hear. 
 
 "When next he spoke, his voice was very calm, as he 
 asked when she was going, and how long she intended 
 to be gone. "What! so soon?" said he, when told that 
 she sailed the 15th of January, and other than that, not 
 a word did he say to Nellie concerning her intended 
 visit, until just before they left for home. Then for a 
 moment he stood alone with her in the recess of a win- 
 dow. There was a film upon his eyes as he looked 
 upon her, and thought it might be for the last time. 
 There was anguish, too, in his heart, but it did not min- 
 gle in the tones of his voice, which was natural, and, 
 perhaps, indifferent, as he said, "Why do you go to 
 Europe, Nellie?" 
 
 Quickly, and with something of her olden look, she 
 glanced up into his face, but his eyes, which would not 
 meet hers, lest they should betray themselves, were 
 resting upon Mabel, who, on a stool across the room, 
 was petting and caressing a kitten. 'Twas enough, 
 and carelessly Nellie answered, "Because I want to; 
 what do you suppose?" 
 
 "Without seeming to hear her answer, the young man 
 walked away to where Mabel sat, and commenced teas- 
 ing her and her kitten, while Nellie, maddened with 
 herself, with him, with everybody, precipitately left the 
 room, and going to her chamber hastily, and without a 
 thought as to what she was doing, gathered together 
 every little token which John Jr. had given her, to- 
 gether with his notes and letters, written in his own 
 peculiar and scarcely legible hand. Tying them in a 
 bundle, she wrote with unflinching nerve, "Do thou 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 215 
 
 likewise, " and then descending to the hall, laid it upon 
 the hat-stand, managing, as he was leaving, to place it 
 unobserved in his hand. Instinctively he knew what 
 it was, glanced at the three words written thereon, and 
 in a cold, sneering voice, replied, "I will, with pleasure." 
 And thus they parted. 
 
216 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 THE DEPARTURE. 
 
 "John, how would you like to take a trip to New 
 York — the city, I mean?" said Mr. Livingstone to his 
 son one morning, about two weeks following the events 
 narrated in the last chapter. 
 
 "Well enough — why do you ask?" answered John. 
 
 "Because," said his father, "I have to-day received 
 a letter which makes it necessary for one of us to be 
 there the 15th, and as you are fond of traveling, I had 
 rather you would go. You had better start immediately 
 — say to-morrow. " 
 
 John Jr. started from his chair. To-morrow she left 
 her home — the 15th she sailed. He might see her 
 again, though at a distance, for she should never know 
 he followed her ! Since that night in Frankfort he had 
 not looked upon her face, but he had kept his promise, 
 returning to her everything — everything except a with- 
 ered rosebud, which years before, when but a boy, he 
 had twined among the heavy braids of her hair, and 
 which she had given back to him, playfully fastening it 
 in the button -hole of his roundabout! How well he 
 remembered that day. She was a little romping girl, 
 teasing him unmercifully about his flat feet and big 
 hands, chiding him for his negro slang, as she termed 
 his favorite expressions, and with whatever else she did, 
 weaving her image into his heart's best and noblest 
 affections, until he seemed to live only for her. But 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 217 
 
 now 'twas changed — terribly changed. She was no 
 longer "his Nellie," the Nellie of his boyhood's love; 
 and with a muttered curse and a tear, large, round, 
 and hot, such as only John Jr. could shed, he sent her 
 back every memento of the past, all save that rosebud, 
 with which he could not part, it seemed so like his early 
 hopes — withered and dead. 
 
 Nellae was alone, preparing for her journey, when 
 the box containing the treasures was handed her. 
 Again and again she examined to see if there was not 
 one farewell word, but there was nothing save, "Here 
 endeth the first lesson ! !" followed by two exclamation 
 points, which John Jr. had dashed off at random. 
 Every article seemed familiar to her as she looked them 
 over, and everything was there but one — she missed the 
 rosebud — and she wondered at the omission, for she 
 knew he had it in his possession. He had told her so 
 not three months before. Why, then, did he not return 
 it? Was it a lingering affection for her which prompted 
 the detention? Perhaps so, and down in Nellie's heart 
 was one warm, bright spot, the memory of that bud, 
 which grew green and fresh again, as on the day when 
 first it was torn from its parent stem. 
 
 When it was first known at Maple Grove that Nellie 
 was going to Europe, Mrs. Livingstone, who saw in the 
 future the full consummation of her plans, proposed 
 that Mabel should spend the period of Nellie's absence 
 with her. But to this Mr. Douglass would not consent. 
 "He could not part with both his daughters," he said, 
 and Mabel decided to remain, stipulating that 'Lena, of 
 whom she was very fond, should pass a portion of the 
 time with her. 
 
 "All the time, if she chooses," said Mr. Douglass, 
 who also liked 'Lena, while Nellie, who was present, 
 immediately proposed that she should take music lessons 
 
21S 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 of Monsieur Du Pont, who had recently come to the 
 city, and who was said to be a superior teacher. "She 
 is fond of music," said she, "and has always wanted to 
 learn, but that aunt of hers never seemed willing ; and 
 this will be a good opportunity, for she can use my 
 piano all the time if she chooses." 
 
 "Capital!" exclaimed Mabel, generously thinking 
 how she would pay the bills, and how much she would 
 assist 'Lena, for Mabel was an excellent musician, sing- 
 ing and playing admirably. 
 
 When this plan was proposed to 'Lena, she objected, 
 for two reasons. The first, that she could not leave her 
 grandmother, and second, that much as she desired the 
 lessons, she would not suffer Mabel to pay for them, 
 and she had no means of her own. On the first point 
 she began to waver, when Mrs. Nichols, who was in 
 unusually good health, insisted upon her going. 
 
 "It will do you a sight of good," said she, "and 
 there's no kind of use why you should stay hived up 
 with me. I'd as lief be left alone as not, and I shall 
 take comfort thinkin' you're larnin' to play the pianner, 
 for I've alius wondered 'Tildy didn't set you at Car'- 
 line's. So, go," the only lady continued, whispering in 
 'Lena's ear, "Go and mebby some day you'E be a music 
 teacher, and take care of us both. " 
 
 Still 'Lena hesitated at receiving so much from 
 Mabel, who, after a moment's thought, exclaimed, 
 "Why, I can teach you myself! I should love to, 
 dearly. It will be something to occupy my mind; and 
 my instructors have frequently said that I was capable 
 of teaching advanced pupils, if I chose. You'll go 
 now, I know" — and Mabel plead her cause so well, that 
 'Lena finally consented, saying she should come home 
 once a week to see her grandmother. 
 
 "A grand arrangement, I must confess," said Carrie, 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 219 
 
 when she heard of it. "I should think she sponged 
 enough from her connections, without living on other 
 folks, and poor ones, too, like Mr. Douglass." 
 
 "How ridiculous you talk," said John Jr., who was 
 present. "You'd be perfectly willing to spend a year 
 at Mr. Graham's, or Mr. Douglass' either, if he had a 
 son whom you considered an eligible match. Then as 
 to his being so poor, that's one of Mother Atkins' 
 yarns, and she knows everybody's history, from Noah 
 down to the present day. For 'Lena's sake I am glad 
 to have her go, though Heaven knows what I shall do 
 without her." 
 
 Mrs. Livingstone, too, was secretly pleased, for she 
 would thus be more out of Durward's way, and the 
 good lady was again becoming somewhat suspicious. 
 So when her husband objected, saying 'Lena could take 
 lessons at home if she liked, she quietly overruled him, 
 giving many good reasons why Lena should go, and 
 finally saying, that if Mrs. Nichols was very lonely 
 without her, she might spend her evenings in the parlor 
 when there was no company present ! So it was de- 
 cided that 'Lena should go, and highly pleased with the 
 result of their call, Mr Douglass and Mabel returned to 
 Frankfort. 
 
 At length the morning came when Nellie was to start 
 on her journey. Mr. Wilbur had arrived the night be- 
 fore, together with his sister, whose marble cheek and 
 lusterless eye even then foretold the lonely grave which 
 awaited her far away 'neath a foreign sky. Durward 
 and Mr. Douglass accompanied them as far as Cincin- 
 nati, where they took the cars for Buffalo. Just before 
 it rolled from the depot, a young man closely muffled, 
 who had been watching our party, sprang into a car 
 just in the rear of the one they had chosen, and taking 
 the first vacant seat, abandoned himself to his own 
 
220 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 thoughts, which must have been very absorbing, as a 
 violent shake was necessary, ere he heeded the call of 
 * 'Your ticket, sir." 
 
 Onward, onward flew the train, while faster and 
 faster Nellie's tears were dropping. They had gushed 
 forth when she saw the quivering chin and trembing 
 lips of her gray-haired father, as he bade his only child 
 good-by, and now that he was gone, she wept on never 
 heeding her young friend, who strove in vain to call 
 her attention to the fast receding hills of Kentucky, 
 which she — Mary — was leaving forever. Other 
 thoughts than those of her father mingled with Nellie's 
 tears, for she could not forget John Jr., nor the hope 
 cherished to the last that he would come to say fare- 
 well. But he did not. They had parted in coldness, if 
 not in anger, and she might never see him again. 
 
 "Come, cheer up, Miss Douglass; I cannot suffer you 
 to be sad," said Mr. Wilbur, placing himself by Nelhe, 
 and thoughtlessly throwing his arm across the back of 
 the seat, while at the same time he bent playfully for- 
 ward to peep under her bonnet. 
 
 And Nellie did look up, smiling through her tears, 
 but she did not observe the flashing eyes which watched 
 her through the window at the rear of the car. Always 
 restless and impatient of confinement, John Jr. had 
 come out for a moment upon the platform, ostensibly to 
 take the air, but really to see if it were possible to get a 
 glimpse of Nellie. She was sitting not far from the 
 door, and he looked in, just in time to witness Mr. Wil- 
 bur's action, which he of course construed just as his 
 jealousy dictated. 
 
 "Confounded fool!" thought he. "J wouldn't hug 
 Nellie in the cars in «ood broad daylight, even if I was 
 married to her !" 
 
 And returning to "his seat, he wondered which was the 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 221 
 
 silliest, "for Nellie to run off with Mr. "Wilbur, or for 
 himself to run after her. Six of one and half a dozen 
 of the other, I reckon," said he; at the same time wrap- 
 ping himself in his shawl, he feigned sleep at every 
 station, for the sake of retaining his entire seat, and 
 sometimes, if the crowd was great, going so far as to 
 snore loudly ! 
 
 And thus they proceeded onward, Nellie never sus- 
 pecting the close espionage kept upon her by John Jr. , 
 who once in the night, at a crowded depot, passed so 
 closely to her that he felt her warm breath on his cheek. 
 And when, on the morning of the 15th, she sailed, she 
 little thought who it was that followed her down to the 
 water's edge, standing on the last spot where she had 
 stood, and watching with a swelling heart the vessel 
 which bore her away. 
 
 "I'm nothing better than a walking dead man, now," 
 said he, as he retraced his steps back to his hotel. 
 "Nellie's gone, and with her all for which I lived, for 
 she's the only girl except 'Lena who isn't a libel on the 
 sex — or, yes — there's Anna — does as well as she knows 
 how — and there's Mabel, a little simpleton, to be sure, 
 but amiable and good-natured, and on the whole, as 
 smart as they'll average. 'Twas kind in her anyway, 
 to offer to pay 'Lena's music bills. " 
 
 And with these reflections, John Jr. sought out the 
 men whom he had come to see, transacted his business, 
 and then started for home, where he found his mother 
 in unusually good spirits. Matters thus far had suc- 
 ceeded even beyond her most sanguine expectations. 
 Nellie was gone to Europe, and the rest she fancied 
 would be easy. 'Lena, too, was gone, but the result 
 of this was not what she had hoped. Durward had 
 
222 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 been at Maple Grove but once since 'Lena left, while 
 she had heard of his being in Frankfort several times. 
 
 ' ' Something must be done, " — her favorite expression — 
 and in her difficulty she determined to call upon Mrs. 
 Graham, whom she had not seen since Christmas. "It 
 is quite time she knew about the gray pony, as well as 
 other matters," thought she, and ordering the carriage, 
 she set out one morning for Woodlawn, intending to 
 spend the day if she found its mistress amiably dis- 
 posed, which was not always the case. 
 
1ENA RIVERS. 223 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 THE VISIT. 
 
 Mrs. Graham reclined upon a softly-cushioned sofa, 
 her tasteful lace morning-cap half falling from her 
 head, and her rich cashmere gown flowing open, so as 
 to reveal the flounced cambric skirt which her sewing- 
 girl had sat up ti 1 midnight to finish. A pair of deli- 
 cate French slippers pinched rather than graced her fat 
 foot, one of which angrily beat the carpet, as if keeping 
 time to its mistress' thoughts. Nervous and uncomfort- 
 able was the lady of Woodlawn this morning, for she 
 had just passed through a little conjugal scene with her 
 husband, whom she had called a brute, lamenting the 
 dispensation of Providence which took from her "her 
 beloved Sir Arthur, who always thought whatever she 
 said was right, " and ending by throwing herself in the 
 most theatrical manner upon the sofa in the parlor, 
 where, with both her blood and temper at a boiling 
 heat, she lay, when her waiting-maid, but recently pur- 
 chased, announced the approach of a carriage. 
 
 "Mercy," exclaimed the distressed lady, "whose is it? 
 I hope no one will ask for me." 
 
 "Reckon how it's Marster Livingstone's carriage, 'case 
 thar's Tom on the box," answered the girl, who had 
 her own private reason for knowing Tom at any 
 distance. 
 
 "Mrs, Livingstone, I'll venture to say," groaned Mrs. 
 Srraham, burying her lace cap and flaxen hair still farther 
 
324 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 in the silken cushions. "Just because I stopped there 
 a few days last summer, she thinks she must run here 
 every week ; and there's no way of escaping her. Do 
 shut that blind ; it lets in so much light. There, would 
 you think I'd been crying?" 
 
 "Lor' no," returned the stupid servant, "Lor' no, I 
 should sooner think your eyes and face were swelled 
 with pisen." 
 
 "The Lord help me," exclaimed Mrs. Graham; "you 
 don't begin to know as much as poor Charlotte did. 
 She was a jewel, and I don't see anything what she 
 wanted to die for, just as I had got her well trained ; 
 but that's all the thanks I ever get for my goodness. 
 xTow go quick, and tell her I've got an excruciating 
 headache." 
 
 "If you please, miss," said the girl, trying in vain to 
 master the big word, lu if you please, give me somethin' 
 shorter, 'case I done f orgit that ar, sartin'. " 
 
 "Fool! Idiot !" exclaimed Mrs. Graham, hurling, for 
 want of something better, one of her satin slippers at 
 the woolly head, which dodged out of the door in time 
 to avoid it. 
 
 "Is your mistress at home?" asked Mrs. Livingstone, 
 and Martha, uncertain what answer she was to make, 
 replied, "Yes — no — I dun know, 'case she done driv 
 me out afore I know'd whether she was at home or not. " 
 
 "Martha, show the lady this way," called out Mrs. 
 Graham, who was listening. "Ah, Mrs. Livingstone, 
 is it you. I'm glad to see you," said she, half rising 
 and shading her swollen eyes with her hand, as if the 
 least effort were painful. "You must excuse my dis- 
 habille, for I am suffering from a bad headache, and 
 when Martha said some one had come, I thought at 
 first I could not see them, but you are always welcome. 
 How have you been this long time, and why have you 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 225 
 
 neglected me so, when you know how I must feel the 
 change from Louisville, where I was constantly in 
 society, to this dreary neighborhood?" and the lady lay 
 back upon the sofa, exhausted with and astonished at 
 her own eloquence. 
 
 Mrs. Livingstone was quite delighted with her friend'&i 
 unusual cordiality, and seating herself in the large, easy 
 chair, began to make herself very agreeable, offering to 
 bathe Mrs. Graham's aching head, which kind offer the 
 lady declined, bethinking herself of sundry gray hairs, 
 which a close inspection would single out from among 
 her flaxen tresses. 
 
 "Are your family all well?" she asked; to which Mrs. 
 Livingstone replied that they were, at the same time 
 speaking of her extreme loneliness since Mabel left 
 them. 
 
 "Ah, you mean the little dark-eyed brunette, whom I 
 saw with you at my party. She was a nice-looking 
 girl — showed that she came of a good family. I think 
 everything of that. I believe I'd rather Durward 
 would marry a poor aristocrat, than a wealthy plebeian 
 — one whose family were low and obscure." 
 
 Mrs. Livingstone wondered what she thought of her 
 family, the Livingstones. The Richard's blood she 
 knew was good, but the Nichols' was rather doubtful. 
 Still, she would for once make the best of it, so she has- 
 tened to say that few American ladies were so fortunate 
 as Mrs. Graham had been in marrying a nobleman. 
 "In this country we have no nobility, you know," said 
 she, "and any one who gets rich and into good 
 society, is classed with the first." 
 
 "Yes, I know," returned Mrs. Graham, "but in my 
 mind there's a great difference. Now, Mr. Graham's 
 ancestors boast of the best blood of South Carolina, 
 while my family, everybody knows, was one of the first 
 
226 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 in Virginia, so if Durward had been Mr. Graham's son 
 instead of Sir Arthur's, I should be just as proud of 
 him, just as particular whom he married." 
 : "Certainly," answered Mrs. Livingstone, a little 
 piqued, for there was something in Mrs. Graham's 
 manner which annoyed her — "certainly — I understand 
 you. I neither married a nobleman, nor one of the best 
 bloods of South Carolina, and still I shall not be willing 
 for my son to marry — let me see — well, say 'Lena 
 Rivers. " 
 
 "'Lena Rivers!" repeated Mrs. Graham — "why, 1 
 would not suffer Durward to look at her, if I could help 
 it. She's of a horribly low family on both sides, as I 
 am told. " 
 
 This was a home thrust which Mrs. Livingstone 
 could not endure quietly, and as she had no wish to de- 
 fend the royalty of a family which she herself depised, 
 she determined to avenge the insult by making her 
 companion as uncomfortable as possible. So she said, 
 "Perhaps you are not aware that your son's attentions 
 to this same 'Lena Rivers, are becoming somewhat 
 marked. " 
 
 "No, I was not aware of it," and the greenish-gray 
 eyes fastened inquiringly upon Mrs. Livingstone, who 
 continued: "It is nevertheless true, and I can appreciate 
 your feelings ; I thought it might not be out of place for 
 me to warn you. " 
 
 "Thank you," returned Mrs. Graham, now raising 
 herself upon her elbow, "Thank you — but do you know 
 anything positive? What has Durward done?" 
 
 " 'Lena is in Frankfort now, at Mr. Douglass'," an 
 swered Mrs. Livingstone, "and your son is in the con- 
 stant habit of visiting there ; besides that, he invited her 
 to ride with him when they all went to Frankfort — 
 'Lena upon the gray pony which your husband gave 
 her as a Christmas present." 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 227 
 
 Mrs. Livingstone had touched the right spot. 'Twas 
 the first intimation of Vesta which Mrs. Graham had 
 received, and now sitting bolt upright, she demanded 
 what Mrs. Livingstone meant. "My husband give 
 'Lena Rivers a pony! Harry Graham do such a thing I 
 It can't be possible. There must be some mistake. " 
 
 "I think not," returned Mrs. Livingstone. "Your 
 son came over with it, saying 'it was a present from his 
 father, who sent it, together with his compliments. ' " 
 
 Back among her cushions tumbled Mrs. Graham, 
 moaning, groaning, and pronouncing herself wholly 
 heartbroken. "I knew he was bad," said she, "but I 
 never dreamed it had come to this. And I might have 
 known it, too, for from the moment he first saw that 
 girl, he has acted like a crazy creature. Talks about 
 her in his sleep — wants me to adopt her — keeps his eyes 
 on her every minute when he's where she is; and to 
 crown all, without consulting me, his lawful wife, he 
 has made her a present, which must have cost more than 
 a hundred dollars ! And she accepted it — the vixen !" 
 
 "That's the worst feature in the case," said Mrs. 
 Livingstone. "I have always been suspicious of 'Lena, 
 knowing what her mother was, but I must confess I did 
 not think her quite so presumptuous as to accept so 
 costly a present from a gentleman, and a married one, 
 too. But she has a peculiar way of making them think 
 what she does is right, and neither my husband nor 
 John Jr. can see any impropriety in her keeping Vesta. 
 Carrie wouldn't have done such a thing." 
 
 "Indeed she wouldn't. She is too well-bred for that," 
 said Mrs. Graham, who had been completely won by 
 Carrie's soft speeches and fawning manner. 
 
 This compliment to her daughter pleased Mrs. Liv- 
 ingstone, who straightway proceeded to build Carrie up 
 Still higher, by pulling 'Lena down. Accordingly, every 
 
328 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 little thing which she could remember, and many which 
 she could not, were told in an aggravated manner, until 
 quite a case was made out, and 'Lena would never have 
 recognized herself in the artful, designing creature 
 which her aunt kindly pictured her to be. 
 
 "Of course," said she, "if you ever repeat this, you 
 will not use my name, for as she is my husband's niece, 
 it will not look well in me to be proclaiming her vices, 
 except in cases where I think it my duty." 
 
 Mrs. Graham was too much absorbed in her own 
 reflections to make a reply and as Mrs. Livingstone saw 
 that her company was hardly desired, she soon arose to 
 go, asking Mrs. Graham "why she did not oftener visit 
 Maple Grove." 
 
 When Mrs. Graham felt uncomfortable, she liked to 
 make others so, too, and to her friend's question she an- 
 swered, "1 may as well be plain as not, and to tell you 
 the truth, I should enjoy visiting you very much, were 
 it not for one thing. Tnat mother of yours " 
 
 "Of my husband's," interrupted Mrs. Livingstone, 
 and Mrs. Graham continued just where she left off. 
 
 "Annoys me exceedingly, by eternally tracing in me 
 a resemblance to some down east creature or other — ■ 
 what is her name — Sco — Sco — Scovandyke ; yes, that's 
 it — Scovandyke. Of course it's not pleasant for me to 
 be told every time I meet your mother — — " 
 
 "Mr. Livingstone's mother," again interrupted the 
 lady. 
 
 •"That I look like some of her acquaintances, for I 
 contend that families of high birth bear with them 
 marks which cannot be mistaken." 
 
 "Certainly, certainly," said Mrs. Livingstone, add- 
 ing, that "she was herself continually annoyed by Mrs. 
 Nichols' vulgarity, but her husband insisted that she 
 should come to the table, so what could she do?" 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 229 
 
 And mutually troubled, the one about her husband, 
 and the other about her husband's mother, the two 
 amiable ladies parted. 
 
 Scarcely was Mrs. Livingstone gone when Mr. Gra» 
 ham entered the room, finding his wife, who had heard 
 his footsteps, in violent hysterics. He had seen her so 
 too often to be alarmed, and was about to pull the bell- 
 rope, when she found voice to bid him desist, saying it 
 was himself who was killing her by inches, and that 
 the sooner she was dead the better, she supposed, he 
 would like it. "But, for my sake," she added, in a 
 kind of howl, between crying and scolding, "do try to 
 behave yourself during the short time I have to live, 
 and not go to giving away ponies, and mercy knows 
 what. " 
 
 Now, Mr. Graham was not conscious of having 
 looked at a lady, except through the window, for many 
 days, and when his wife first attacked him, he was at a 
 great loss to understand ; but as she proceeded it all be- 
 came plain, and on the whole, he felt glad that the 
 worst was over. He would not acknowledge, even to 
 himself, that he was afraid of his wife, and still he had 
 a little rather she would not always know what he did. 
 He supposed, as a matter of course, that she would, 
 earlier or later, hear of his present to 'Lena, and he well 
 knew that such an event would surely be followed by a 
 storm ; but after what had taken place between them 
 that morning, he did not expect so much feeling, for he 
 had thought her wrath nearly expended. But Mrs. 
 Graham was capable of great things — as she proved on 
 this occasion, taunting her husband with his preference 
 for 'Lena, accusing him of loving her better than he did 
 herself, and asking him plainly if it were not so. 
 
 "Say," she continued, stamping her foot (the one 
 without a slipper), "say — I ivill be answered. Don't you 
 like 'Lena better than vou do me?" 
 
230 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 Mr. Graham was provoked beyond endurance, and 
 to the twice repeated question, he at length replied, 
 "God knows I've far more reason to love her than I 
 have you." At the same moment he left the room, in 
 time to avoid a sight of the collapsed state into which 
 his horrified wife, who did not expect such an answer 
 had fallen. 
 
 "Can I tell her? oh, dare I tell her?" he thought as 
 he wiped the drops of perspiration from his brow, and 
 groaned in the bitterness of his spirit. Terribly was he 
 expiating his fault, but at last he grew calmer, and 
 cowardice (for he was cowardly, else he had never been 
 what he was) whispered, "Wait yet awhile. Anything 
 for domestic peace. " 
 
 So the secret was buried still deeper in his bosom, he 
 never thinking how his conduct would in the end injure 
 the young girl, dearer to him far than his own life. 
 While he sat thus alone in his room, and as his wife 
 lay upon her sofa, Durward entered the parlor, and 
 began good-humoredly to rally his mother upon her woe- 
 begone face, asking what was the matter now. 
 
 "Oh, you poor boy, you," she sobbed, "you'll soon 
 have no mother to go to, but you must attribute my 
 death wholly to your stepfather, who alone will be to 
 blame for making you an orphan !" 
 
 Durward knew his mother well, and he thought he 
 knew his father too, and while he respected him, he 
 blamed her for the unreasonable whims of which he was 
 becoming weary. He knew there had been a jar in the 
 morning, but he had supposed that settled, and now, 
 when he found his mother ten times worse than ever, he 
 felt half -vexed, and said, "Do be a woman, mother, 
 and not give way to such fancies. I really wonder 
 father shows as much patience with you as he does, for 
 you make our home very unpleasant; and really," he 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 231 
 
 continued, in a laughing tone, "if this goes on much 
 longer, I shall, in self-defense, get me a wife and home 
 of my own." 
 
 "And if report is true, that wife will be 'Lena 
 Rivers," said Mrs. Graham, in order to try him. 
 
 "Very likely — I can't tell what may be," was his an- 
 swer; to which Mrs. Graham replied, "that it would be 
 extremely pleasant to marry a bride with whom one's 
 father was in love." 
 
 "How ridiculous!" Durward exclaimed. "As though 
 my father cared aught for 'Lena, except to admire her 
 for her beauty and agreeable manners. " 
 
 "But, he's ackonwledged it. He's just told me, 
 "God knew he loved her better than he did me.' What 
 do you think of that?" 
 
 "Did Mr. Graham say that?" asked Durward, look- 
 ing his mother directly in the face. 
 
 "Yes he did, not fifteen minutes before you came in, 
 and it's not a secret either. Others know it and talk 
 about it. Think of his giving her that pony." 
 
 Durward was taken by surprise. Knowing none of 
 the circumstances, he felt deeply pained at his father's 
 remark. He had always supposed he liked 'Lena, and 
 he was glad of it, too, but to love her more than his own 
 wife was a different thing, and for the first time in his 
 life Durward distrusted his father. Still, 'Lena was 
 not to blame ; there was comfort in that ; and that very 
 afternoon found him again at her side, admiring her 
 more and more, and learning each time he saw her to 
 love her better. And she — she dared not confess to 
 herself how dear he was to her — she dared not hope her 
 affection was returned. She could not think of the dis- 
 appointment the future might bring, so she lived on the 
 present, waiting anxiously for his coming, and striving 
 hard to do the things whiV.h she thought would please 
 him best. 
 
"LENA RIVERS. 
 
 True to her promise, Mabel had commenced giving 
 her instructions upon the piano, and they were in the 
 midst of their first lessen, when who should walk in, 
 but Monsieur Du Pont, bowing, and saying "he had 
 been hired by von nice gentleman, to give Mademoiselle 
 Rivers lessons in musique. " 
 
 'Lena immediately thought of her uncle, who had 
 once proposed her sharing in the instructions of her 
 cousin, but who, as usual, was overruled by his wife. 
 
 '"Twas my uncle, was it not?" she asked of Du Pont, 
 who replied, "I promised not to tell. He say, though, 
 he connected with mademoiselle." 
 
 And Lena, thinking it was of course Mr. Living- 
 stone, who, on his wife's account, wished it a secret, 
 readily consented to receive Du Pont as a teacher in 
 place of Mabel, who still expressed her willingness to 
 assist her whenever it was necessary. Naturally fond 
 of music, 'Lena's improvement was rapid, and when 
 she found how gratified Durward appeared, she re' 
 doubled her exertions, practicing always five, and some- 
 times six hours a day. 
 
'LENA RIVERS. %Zh 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 A father's love. 
 
 When it was known at Maple Grove that 'Lena was 
 taking lessons of Du Pont, it was naturally supposed 
 that Mabel, as she had first proposed, paid the bills. 
 
 "Mighty kind in her, and no mistake," said John Jr., 
 throwing aside the stump of a cigar which he had been 
 smoking, and thinking to himself that "Mabel was a 
 nice girl, after all." 
 
 The next daj^, finding the time hang heavily upon 
 his hands, he suddenly wondered why he had never 
 thought to call upon 'Lena. "To be sure, I'll feel 
 awfully to go where Nellie used to be, and know she is 
 not there, but it's lonesomer than a graveyard here, and 
 I'm bound to do something. " 
 
 So saying, he mounted Firelock and started off, fol- 
 lowed by no regrets from his mother or sisters, for since 
 Nellie went away he had been intolerably cross and 
 fault-finding. He found a servant in the door, so he 
 was saved the trouble :f ringing, and entering unan- 
 nounced, walked noiselessly to the parlor-door, which 
 was ajar. 'Lena, as usual, sat at the piano, wholly 
 absorbed, while over her bent Mabel, who was assisting 
 her in the lesson, speaking encouragingly, and patiently 
 helping her through all the difficult places. Mabel's 
 health was improved since first we saw her, and though 
 she was still plain — ugly, many would say — there was 
 something pleasing in her face, and in the expression of 
 
234 'LENA RIVERS- 
 
 her black eyes, which looked down so kindly upon 'Lena. 
 John Jr. noticed it, and never before had Mable ap- 
 peared to so good advantage to him as she did at that 
 moment, as he watched her through the open door. 
 
 At last the lesson was finished, and rising up, 'Lena 
 said, "I know I should never learn if it were not for 
 you," at the same time winding her arm about Mabel's 
 neck and kissing her glowing cheek. 
 
 "Let me have a share of that," exclaimed John Jr., 
 stepping forward and clasping both the girls in his arms 
 ere they were aware of his presence. 
 
 With a gay laugh they shook him off, and 'Lena, 
 leading him to the sofa, sat down beside him, asking 
 numerous questions about home and her grandmother. 
 John answered them all, and then, oh, how he longed t< 
 ask if there had come any tidings of the absent one ■; 
 but he would not — she had left him of her own accori, 
 and he had sworn never to inquire for her. So he sat 
 gazing dreamily upon her piano, the chair she used to 
 occupy, and the books she used to read, until 'Lena, 
 either divining his thoughts, or fancying he would wish 
 to know, said, "We've not heard from Nellie since she 
 left us." 
 
 "You didn't expect to, so soon, I suppose," was" 
 John's indifferent reply. 
 
 "Why, no, not unless they chanced to speak a ship. 
 I wish they'd taken a steamer instead of a sailing ves- 
 sel," said 'Lena. 
 
 "I suppose Mr. Wilbur had an eye upon the long, 
 cozy chats he could have with Nellie, looking out upon 
 the sea, " was John's answer, while Mabel quickly re- 
 joined, that "he had chosen a sailing vessel solely on 
 Mary's account. " 
 
 In the midst of their conversation, the door-bell rang, 
 and a moment after, Durward was ushered into the 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 235 
 
 parlor. "He was in town on business," he said, "and 
 thought he would call. " 
 
 Scarcely had he taken his seat, when again the door 
 opened, this time admitting Mr. Graham, who was re- 
 turning from Louisville, and had also found it conven- 
 ient to call. Involuntarily Durward glanced toward 
 'Lena, hut her face was as calm and unruffled as if the 
 visitor had been her uncle. 
 
 "All right there," thought he, and withdrawing his 
 eyes from her, he fixed them upon his father, who he 
 fancied seemed somewhat disconcerted when he saw 
 him there. Mentally blaming himself for the distrust 
 which he felt rising within him, he still determined to 
 watch, and judge for himself how far his mother's sus- 
 picions were correct. Taking up a book which lay 
 near, he pretended to be reading, while all the time his 
 thoughts were elsewhere. It was 'Lena's lesson-day, 
 and erelong Du Pont came in, appearing both pleased 
 and surprised when he saw Mr. Graham. 
 
 "I hope you don't expect rcie to expose my ignorance 
 before all these people," said 'Lena, as Du Pont mo- 
 tioned her to the stool. 
 
 "Suppose we adjourn to another room," said Mabel, 
 leading the way, and followed by John Jr. on]y. 
 
 Durward at first thought of leaving also, and arose to 
 do so, but on observing that his father showed no inten- 
 tion of going, he resumed his seat and book, poring 
 over the latter as intently as if it had not been wrong 
 side up ! 
 
 "Does monsieur incline to stay," asked Du Pont, as 
 Mr. Graham took his station at the end of the piano. 
 
 "Certainly," answered Mr, Graham, "unless Miss 
 Rivers insists upon my leaving, which I'm sure she 
 would not do if she knew how much interest I take in 
 her progress." 
 
336 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 So, during the entire lesson, Mr. Graham stood there, 
 his eyes fixed upon 'Lena with a look which puzzled 
 Durward, who from behind his book was watching him. 
 Admiration, affection, pity and remorse, all seemed 
 mingled in the exp r 3ssk>n of his face, and as Durward 
 watched, he felt that there was a something which he 
 could not fathom. 
 
 "I never knew he was so fond of music," thought he 
 — "I mean to put him to the test." 
 
 Accordingly, when Du Pont was gone, he asked 
 Mabel, who he knew was an excellent pianist, to favor 
 him with one of her very best pieces — "something livery 
 and new, which will wake us up, " said he. 
 
 Mabel would greatly have preferred remaining with 
 John Jr. , but she was habitually polite, always playing 
 when invited, and now taking her seat at the piano, she 
 brought out sounds far different from those of a new 
 performer. But Mr. Graham, if he heard it, did not 
 heed it, his eyes and ears being alone for 'Lena. Seat- 
 ing himself near her, he commenced talking to her in 
 an undertone, apparently oblivious to everything else 
 around him, and it was not until Durward twice asked 
 how he liked Mabel's playing, that he heard a note. 
 Then, starting up and going toward the instrument, he 
 said, "Ah, yes, that was a fine march ('twas the "Rain- 
 bowSchottish," then new), please repeat it, or something 
 just like it!" 
 
 Durward bit his lip, while Mabel, in perfect good 
 humor, dashed off into a spirited quickstep, receiving 
 but little attention from Mr. Graham, who seemed in a 
 strange mood to-day, scribbling upon a piece of white 
 paper which lay upon the piano, and of which Durward 
 managed to get possession, finding thereon the name, 
 "Helena Nichols," to which was added that of "Rivers," 
 
'LENA RIVERS. %Ss 
 
 the Nichols being crossed out. It would seem as if both 
 father and son were determined each to outstay the 
 other, for hour after hour went by and neither spoke of 
 leaving, although John Jr. had been gone some time. 
 At last, as the sun was setting, Durward arose to go, 
 asking if his father contemplated spending the night ; 
 "and if so," said he, with a meaning in his manner, 
 "where shall I tell my mother I left you?" 
 
 This roused Mr. Graham, who said he was only wait- 
 ing for his son to start, adding, that "he could not find 
 it in his heart to tear him away from two so agreeable 
 ladies, for he well remembered the weakness of his own 
 youth." 
 
 "In your second youth, now, I fancy," thought Dur- 
 ward, watching him as he bade 'Lena and Mabel good- 
 by, and failing not to see how much longer he held the 
 hand of the former than he did of the latter. 
 
 "Does she see as I do, or not?" thought he, as he 
 took the hand his father dropped, and looked earnestly 
 into the clear brown eyes, which returned his inquiring 
 glance with one open and innocent as a little child. 
 
 "All right here," again thought Durward, slightly 
 pressing the soft, warm hand he held in his own, and 
 smiling down upon her when he saw how quickly that 
 pressure brought the tell-tale blood to her cheek. 
 
 "Durward," said Mr. Graham, after they were out of 
 the city, "I have a request to m^ke of you." 
 
 "Weil." 
 
 The answer was very short and it was several min- 
 utes ere Mr. Graham again spoke. 
 
 "You know your mother as well as I do " 
 
 "Well." 
 
 Another silence, and Mr. Graham continued: "You 
 know how groundlessly jealous she is of me — and it 
 may be just as well for her not to know that " 
 
238 'LENA RIVERS, 
 
 Here he paused, and Durward finished the sentence 
 for him„ 
 
 "Just as well for her not to know that you've spent 
 the afternoon with 'Lena Rivers ; is that it?" 
 
 '"That's it — yes — yes — " answered Mr, Graham, add- 
 ing, ere Durward had time to utter the angry words 
 which he felt rising within him, "I wish you'd marry 
 'Lena." 
 
 This was so sudden — so different from anything 
 which Durward had expected, that he was taken quite 
 by surprise, and it was some little time ere he answered, 
 "Perhaps I shall." 
 
 "I wish you would," continued Mr, Graham. "I'd 
 willingly give every dollar I'm worth for the privilege 
 of calling her my daughter. " 
 
 Durward was confounded, and knew not what to 
 think. If his father had an undue regard for 'Lena, 
 why should he wish to see her the wife of another, and 
 that other his son? Was it his better and nobler nature 
 struggling to save her from evil, which prompted the 
 wish? Durward hoped so — he believed so; and the 
 confidence which had so recently been shaken, was 
 fully restored, when, by the light of the hall lamp at 
 home, he saw how white and almost ghostly was the 
 face which, ere they entered the drawing room, turned 
 imploringly upon him, asking him "to be careful." 
 
 Mrs. Graham had been in a fit of the sulks ever since 
 the morning of Mrs. Livingstone's call, and now, 
 though she had not seen her husband for several days, 
 she merely held out her hand, turning her head, mean- 
 time, and replying to his question in a low, quiet kind 
 of a much-injured-woman way, as provoking as it was 
 uncalled for. 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 239 
 
 "Father's suggestion was a good one," thought Dur- 
 ward, when he had retired to rest. '"Lena is too beau- 
 tiful to be alone in the world. I will propose to her at 
 once, and she will thus be out of danger. " 
 
 But what should he do with her? Should he bring 
 her there to Woodlawn, where scarcely a day passed 
 without some domestic storm? No, his home should be 
 full of sunlight, of music, and flowers, where no angry 
 word or darkening frown could ever find entrance ; and 
 thus dreaming of a blissful future, when 'Lena should 
 be his bride, he fell asleep 
 
240 *LENA RIVERS. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 JOEL SLOCUM. 
 
 In this chapter it may not be out of place to introduce 
 an individual who, though not a very important person- 
 age, is still in some degree connected with our story. 
 On the night when Durward and his father were riding 
 home from Frankfort, the family at Maple Grove, with 
 the exception of grandma, were as usual assembled in 
 the parlor. John Jr. had returned, and purposely tell- 
 ing his mother and Carrie whom he had left with 'Lena 
 had succeeded in putting them both into an uncomforta- 
 ble humor, the latter secretly lamenting the mistake 
 which she had committed in suffering 'Lena to stay 
 with Mabel. But it could not be remedied now. There 
 was no good reason for calling her home, and the lady 
 broke at least three cambric needles in her vigorous 
 jerks at the handkerchief she was hemming. 
 
 A heavy tread upon the piazza, a loud ring of the 
 bell, and Carrie straightened up, thinking it might pos- 
 sibly be Durward, who had called on his way home, but 
 the voice was strange, and rather impatiently she 
 waited. 
 
 ''Does Mr. John Livingstone live here?" asked the 
 stranger of the negro who answered the summons. 
 
 "Yes, sir," answered the servant, eying the new- 
 comer askance. 
 
 "And is old Miss Nichols and Heleny to hum?" 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 241 
 
 The negro grinned, answering in the affimative, and 
 asking the young man to walk in. 
 
 "Wall, guess I will," said he, advancing a few steps 
 toward the parlor door. Then suddenly halting, he 
 added, more to himself than to the negro, "Darned if I 
 don't go the hull figger, and send in my card as they 
 do to Boston. " 
 
 So saying, he drew from his pocket an embossed card, 
 and bending his knee for a table, he wrote with sundry 
 flourishes, "Mr. Joel Slocum, Esq., Slocumville, Massa- 
 chusetts. " 
 
 "There, hand that to your boss," said he, "and tell 
 him I'm out in the entry." At the same time he 
 stepped before the hat-stand, rubbing up his oily hair, 
 and thinking "Mr. Joel Slocum would make an impres- 
 sion anywhere. " 
 
 "Who is it, Ben?" whispered Carrie. 
 
 "Dunno, miss," said the negro, passing the card to 
 his master, and waiting in silence for his orders. 
 
 "Mr. Joel Slocum, Esq., Slocumville, Massachusetts," 
 slowly read Mr. Livingstone, wondering where he had 
 heard that name before. 
 
 "Who?" simultaneously asked Carrie and Anna, 
 while their mother looked wonderingly up. 
 
 Instantly John Jr. remembered 'Lena's love-letter, 
 and anticipating fun, exclaimed, "Show him in, Ben — ■ 
 show him in." 
 
 While Ben is showing him in, we will introduce him 
 more fully to our readers, premising that the picture is 
 not overdrawn, but such as we saw it in our native 
 State. Joel belonged to that extreme class of Yankees 
 with which we sometimes, though not often, meet. 
 Brought up among the New England mountains, he 
 was almost wholly ignorant of what really belonged to 
 good manners, fancying that he knew everything, and 
 
242 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 sneering at those of his acquaintance who, being of a 
 more quiet turn of mind, were content to settle down in 
 the home of their fathers, caring little or nothing for the 
 world without. But as for him, "he was hound," he 
 said, "to see the elephant, and if his brothers were 
 green enough to stay tied to their mother's apron- 
 strings, they might do it, but he wouldn't. No, sir! he 
 was going to make something of himself." 
 
 To effect this, about two years before the time of 
 which we are speaking, he went to Boston to learn the 
 art of daguerreotype-taking, in which he really did seem 
 to excel, returning home with some money, a great deal 
 of vanity, and a strong propensity to boast of what he 
 had seen. Recollections of 'Lena, his early, and, as he 
 sentimentally expressed it, "his undying, all-enduring 5 
 love, still haunted him, and at last he determined upon 
 a tour to Kentucky, purchasing for the occasion a rathe? 
 fantastic suit, consisting of greenish pants, blue coat 
 red vest, and yellow neck-handkerchief, These he laid 
 carefully by in his trunk until he reached Lexington, 
 where he intended stopping for a time, hanging out a 
 flaming sign, which announced his presence and capa- 
 bilities. 
 
 After spending a few days in the city, endeavoring to 
 impress its inhabitants with a sense of his consequence, 
 and mentally styling them all "Know Nothings," because 
 they did not seem to be more affected, he one afternoon 
 donned his best suit, and started for Mr. Livingstone's, 
 thinking he should create a sensation there ; for wasn't 
 he as good as anybody? Didn't he learn his trade in 
 Boston, the very center and source of all the isms' of the 
 day, and ought not Mr. Livingstone to feel proud of 
 such a guest, and wouldn't Lena stare when she saw 
 him so much improved from what he was wnen they 
 picked checkerberries together? 
 
"LENA RIVERS. 245 
 
 With this comfortable opinion of himself, it is not at 
 all probable that he felt any misgivings when Ben 
 ushered him at once into the presence of Mr. Living- 
 stone's family, who stared at him in unfeigned astonish- 
 ment. Nothing daunted, he went through with the 
 five changes of a bow, which he had learned at a danc- 
 ing school, bringing himself up finally in front of Mr. 
 Livingstone, and exclaiming, "How-dy-do? — Mr. Liv- 
 ingstone, I s'pose, though it comes more natural to say 
 cousin John, for I've hearn Miss Nichols and Aunt 
 Nancy talk of you ever since I was knee high, and 
 seems as how you must be related. How is the old 
 lady, and Helleny, too. I don't see 'em here, though 
 I thought, at fust, this might be her," nodding to Anna. 
 
 Mr. Livingstone was confounded, while his wife had 
 strong intentions of ordering the intruder from the 
 room ; but John Jr. had no such idea. He liked the 
 fun, and now coming forward, said, "Mr. Slocum, as 
 your card indicates, allow me the pleasure of presenting 
 you to my mother — and sisters ;" at the same time ring- 
 ing the bell, he ordered a servant to go for his grand- 
 mother. 
 
 "Ah, ladies, how-dy-do? Hope you are well till we 
 are better acquainted," said Joel, bowing low, and 
 shaking out the folds of his red silk handkerchief, 
 strongly perfumed with peppermint. 
 
 Mrs. Livingstone did not even nod, Carrie but slightly 
 while Anna said, "Good -evening, Mr. Slocum." 
 
 Quickly observing Mrs. Livingstone's silence, Joel 
 turned to John Jr., saying, "Don't believe she heard 
 you — deaf, mebby?" 
 
 John Jr. nodded, and at that moment grandma ap- 
 peared in a great flurry to know who wanted to see her. 
 
 Instantly seizing her hand, Joel exclaimed, Now 
 Aunt Martha, if this ain't good for sore eves. How do 
 you do?" 
 
244 'LENA RIVER& 
 
 "Pretty well, pretty well," she returned; "but you'vs 
 got the better of me, for I don't know more'n the dead 
 who you be." 
 
 "Now how you talk," said Joel. "If this don't beat 
 all my fust wife's relations. Why, I should have 
 known you if I'd met you in a porridge-pot. But then, 
 I s'pose I've altered for the better since I see you. 
 Don't you remember Joel Slocum, that used to have 
 kind of a snickerin' notion after Helleny?" 
 
 "Why-ee, I guess I do," answered grandma, again 
 seizing his hand. "Where did you come from, ana 
 why didn't your Aunt Nancy come with you !" 
 
 " 'Tilda, this is Nancy Sco Vandyke's sister's boy. 
 Car'line and Anny, this is Joel; you've heard tell of 
 him." 
 
 "I've been introduced, thank you," said Joel, taking 
 a seat near Carrie, who haughtily gathered up the 
 ample folds of her dress, lest it should be polluted. 
 
 "Bashful critter, but she'll get over it by the time 
 she's seen as much of the world as I have, " soliloquized 
 Joel ; at the same time thinking to make some advances 
 he hitched a little nearer, and taking hold of the strip of 
 embroidery on which she was engaged, he said, "Now, 
 du tell, if they've got to workin' with floss way down 
 here. Waste of time, I tell 'em, this makin' holes for 
 the sake of sewing 'em up. But law !" he added, as he 
 saw the deepening scowl on Carrie's face, "wimmin 
 may jest as well be putterin' about that as anything else, 
 for their time ain't nothin' more'n an old settin' hen's. " 
 
 This speech called forth the first loud roar in which 
 John Jr. had indulged since Nellie went awaj, and now 
 settling back in his chair, he gave vent to his feelings in 
 peals of laughter, in which Joel also joined, thinking 
 he'd said something smart. When at last he'd finished 
 laughing, he thought again of 'Lena, and turning to 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 245 
 
 Mrs. Livingstone, asked where she was, raising his 
 voice to a high key on account of her supposed deaf- 
 ness. 
 
 "Did you speak to me?" asked the lady, with a look 
 which she meant should annihilate him, and in a still 
 louder tone Joel repeated his question, asking Anna 
 aside, if her mother had ever tried "McAllister's All- 
 Healing Ointment," for her deafness, saying it had 
 "nighly cured his grandmother when she was several 
 years older than Mrs. Livingstone. " 
 
 "Much obliged for your prescription, which, fortu- 
 nately, I do not need," said Mrs. Livingstone, angrily, 
 while Joel thought, "how strange it was that deaf peo- 
 ple would always hear in the wrong time !" 
 
 "Mother don't seem inclined to answer your question 
 concerning 'Lena," said John Jr., "so I will do it for 
 her. She is in Frankfort, taking music lessons. You 
 used to know her, I believe. " 
 
 "Lud, yes! I chased her once with a streaked snake, 
 and if she'd did't put 'er through, then I'm no judge. 
 Takin' music lessons, is she? I'd give a fc'pence to 
 hear her play. " 
 
 "Are you fond of music?" asked John Jr., in hopes 
 of what followed. 
 
 "Wall, I wouldn't much wonder if I was," answered 
 Joel, taking a tuning-fork from his pocket and striking 
 it upon the table. "I've kep' singin' school one term, 
 besides leadin' the Methodis' choir in Slocumvillle; so I 
 orto know a little somethin' about it." 
 
 "Perhaps you play, and if so, we'd like to hear you," 
 continued John Jr. , in spite of the deprecating glance 
 cast upon him by Carrie. 
 
 "Not such a dreadful sight," answered Joel, saunter- 
 ing toward the piano and drumming a part of " Auld 
 Lang Syna" "Not such a dreadful sight, but I rather 
 
246 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 guess these girls do. Come, girls, play us a jig, won't 
 you?" 
 
 "Go, Cad, it won't hurt you," whispered John, but 
 Carrie was immovable, and at last Anna, who entered 
 more into her brother's spirit, took her seat at the in- 
 strument, asking what he would have. 
 
 "Oh, give us 'Money Musk,' 'Hail Columby,' 'Old 
 Zip Coon,' or anything to raise a feller's ideas." 
 
 Fortunately, Anna's forte lay in playing old music, 
 which she prefered to more modern pieces, and Joel 
 was soon beating time to the lively strains of "Money 
 Musk." 
 
 "Wall, I declare," said he, when it was ended, "1 
 don't see but what you Kentucky gals play most as well 
 as they do to hum. I didn't s'pose many on you ever 
 seen a pianner. Come," turning to Carrie, "less see 
 what you can do. Mebby you'll beat her all holler," 
 and he offered his hand to Carrie, who rather petulantly 
 said she "must be excused." 
 
 "Oh, git out," he continued. "You needn't feel so 
 bashful, for I shan't criticise you very hard. I know 
 how to feel for new beginners. " 
 
 "Have you been to supper, Mr. Slocum?" asked Mr. 
 Livingstone, pitying Carrie, and wishing to put an end 
 to the performance. 
 
 "No, I hain't, and I'm hungrier than a bear," an- 
 swered Joel, whereupon Mrs. Nichols, thinking he was 
 her guest, arose, saying she would see that he had 
 some. 
 
 When both were gone to the dining room, Mrs. Liv- 
 ingstone's wrath boiled over. 
 
 "That's what comes of harboring your relatives," 
 said she, looking indignantly at her husband, and adding 
 that she hoped "the insolent fellow did not intend stay- 
 ing all night, for if he did he couldn't. " 
 
'LENA RIVERS, 247 
 
 "l)o you propose turning him into the street?" asked 
 Mr. Livingstone, looking up from his paper. 
 
 "I don't propose anything, except that he won't stay 
 in my house, and you needn't ask him. " 
 
 "I hardly think an invitation is necessary, for I pre- 
 sume he expects to stay," returned Mr. Livingstone; 
 while John Jr. rejoined : 
 
 "Of course he does, and if mother doesn't find him a 
 room, I shall take him in with me, besides going to 
 Frankfort with him to-morrow. " 
 
 This was enough, for Mrs. Livingstone would do al- 
 most anything rather than have her son seen in the city 
 with that specimen. Accordingly, when the hour for 
 retiring arrived, she ordered Corinda to show him into 
 the "east chamber," a room used for her common kind 
 of visitors, but which Joel pronounced "as neat as a 
 fiddle." 
 
 The next morning he announced his intention of visit- 
 ing Frankfort, proposing to grandma that she should 
 accompany him, and she was about making up her 
 mind to do so, when 'Lena and Mabel both appeared in 
 the yard. They had come out for a ride, they said, and 
 finding the morning so fine, had extended their excur- 
 sion as far as Maple Grove, sending their servant back 
 to tell where they were going. With his usual assur- 
 ance, Joel advanced toward 'Lena, greeting her ten- 
 derly, and whispering in her ear that "he found she 
 was greatly improved as well as himself," while 'Lena 
 wondered in what the improvement consisted. She had 
 formerly known him as a great, overgrown, good-natured 
 boy, and now she saw him a "conceited gawky." Still, 
 her manner was friendly toward him, for he had come 
 from her old home, had breathed the air of her native 
 hills, and she well remembered how, years ago, he had 
 with her planted and watered the flowers which he told 
 her were still growing at her mother's grave. 
 
248 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 And yet there was something about her which puz> 
 zled Joel, who felt that the difference between them was 
 great. He was disappointed, and the declaration which 
 he had fully intended making was left until another time, 
 when, as he thought, "he shouldn't be so confounded 
 shy of her. " His quarters, too, at Maple Grove were 
 not the most pleasant, for no one noticed him except 
 grandma and John Jr. , and with the conviction that 
 "the Kentuckians didn't know what politeness meant," 
 he ordered his horse after dinner, and started back to 
 Lexington, inviting all the family to call and "set for 
 their picters," saying that "seein' 'twas them, he'd take 
 'em for half price. " 
 
 As he was leaving the piazza, he turned back, and 
 drawing a large, square case from his pocket, passed it 
 to 'Lena saying it was a daguerreotype of her mountain 
 home, which he had taken on purpose for her, forget- 
 ting to give it to her until that minute. The look of 
 joy which lighted up 'Lena's face made Joe almost re- 
 pent of not having said to her what he intended to, but 
 thinking he would wait till next time, he started off, 
 his heart considerably lightened by her warm thanks 
 for his thoughtf ulness. 
 
"LENA RIVERS. 249 
 
 \ 
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 THE DAGUERREOTYPE. 
 
 "Look, grandmother — a picture of our old nome. 
 Isn't it natural?" exclaimed 'Lena, as she ran back to 
 the parlor. 
 
 Y es, it was natural, and the old lady's tears gushed 
 forth the moment she looked upon it. There was the 
 well, the garden, the gate partially open, the barn in 
 the rear, now half -fallen down, the curtain of the west 
 window rolled up as it was wont to be, while on the 
 doorstep, basking in the warm sunshine, lay a cat, 
 which Mrs. Nichols declared was hers. 
 
 "John ought to see this," said she, wiping the tears 
 from her eyes, and turning toward the door, which at 
 that moment opened, admitting her son, together with 
 Mr. Graham, who had accidentally called. "Look 
 here, John," said she, calling him to her side — "Do you 
 remember this?" 
 
 The deep flush which mounted to John's brow 
 showed that he did, and his mother, passing it toward 
 Mr. Graham, continued: "It is our old home in Massa- 
 chusetts. There's the room where John and Helleny 
 both were born, and where Helleny and her father died. 
 Oh, it seems but yesterday since she died, and they car- 
 ried her out of this door, and down the road, there — do 
 you see?" 
 
 This question was addressed to Mr. Graham, who, 
 whether he saw or not, made no answer, but walked to 
 
250 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 the window and looked out upon the prospect beyond, 
 which for him had no attractions then. The sight of 
 that daguerreotype had stirred up many bitter memo- 
 ries, and for some time he stood gazing vacantly through 
 the window, and thinking — who shall say of what? It 
 would seem that the daguerreotype possessed a strong 
 fascination for him, for after it had been duly examined ' 
 and laid down, he took it in his hand, inspecting it min- 
 utely, asking where it was taken, and if it would bo 
 possible to procure a similar one. 
 
 "I have a fancy for such scenes," said he, "and 
 would like to have just such a picture. Mr. Slocum 
 is stopping in Lexington, you say. He can take one 
 from this, I suppose. I mean to see him ;" and with his 
 usual good-morning, he departed. 
 
 Two weeks from this time Durward again went down 
 to Frankfort, determining, if a favorable opportunity 
 presented itself, to offer Lena his heart and fortune. 
 
 He found her alone, Mabel having gone out to spend 
 the day. For a time they conversed together on in- 
 different topics, each one of which was entirely foreign 
 from that which lay nearest Durward's heart. At last 
 the conversation turned upon Joel Slocum, of whose 
 visit Durward had heard. 
 
 "I really think, Lena," said he, laughingly, "that 
 you ought to patronize the poor fellow, who has come 
 all this distance for the sake of seeing you. Suppose 
 you have your daguerreotype taken for me, will you?" 
 
 Durward was in earnest, but with a playful shake of 
 her brown curls, 'Lena answered lightly, "Oh, no, no. 
 I have never had my picture taken in my life, and I 
 shan't begin with Joel. " 
 
 "Never had it taken!" repeated Durward, in some 
 surprise. 
 
 "No, never," said 'Lena, and Durward continued 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 251 
 
 drawing her nearer to him, "It is time you had, then. 
 So have it taken for me. I mean what I say," he con- 
 tinued, as he met the glance of her merry eyes. "There 
 is nothing I should prize more than your miniature, ex- 
 cept, indeed, the original, which you will not refuse 
 me, when I ask it, will you?" 
 
 'Lena's mirth was all gone — she knew he was in 
 earnest now. She felt it in the pressure of his arm, 
 which encircled her waist ; she saw it in his eye, and 
 heard it in the tones of his voice. But what should she 
 say? Closer he drew her to his side; she felt his breath 
 upon. her cheek; and an inaudible answer trembled on 
 her lips, when noiselessly through the door came Mr. 
 Graham, starting when he saw their position, and offer- 
 ing to withdraw if he was intruding. 'Lena was sur- 
 prised and excited, and springing up, she laid her hand 
 upon his arm as he was about to leave the room, bidding 
 him stay, and saying he was always welcome there. 
 
 So he stayed, and with the first frown upon his brow 
 which 'Lena had ever seen, Durward left left without re- 
 ceiving an answer to his question, or even referring to 
 it again, though 'Lena accompanied him to the door, 
 half -dreading, yet hoping, he would repeat it. But he 
 did not, and wishing her much pleasure in his father's 
 company, he walked away, writing in his heart bitter 
 things against him, not her. On his way home he fell 
 in with Du Pont, who, Frenchman-like, had taken a little 
 too much wine, and was very talkative. 
 
 "Vous just come from Mademoiselle Rivers," said he. 
 "She be von fine girl. "What relation be she to Mon- 
 sieur Graham?" 
 
 "None whatever. Why do you ask?" 
 
 "Because he pay her musique lessons and " 
 
 Here Du Pont suddenly remembered his promise, so 
 he kept back Mr. Graham's assertion that he was a 
 
25$ 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 near relative, adding in its place, that "he thought 
 probable he related; but you no tell," said he "for mon- 
 sieur bid me keep secret and I forgot. " 
 
 Here, having reached a cross-road they parted, and 
 again Durward wrote down bitter things against his 
 father ; for what could be his object in wishing it kept a 
 secret that he was paying for 'Lena's lessons, or why 
 did he pay for them at all — and did 'Lena know it? 
 He thought not, and for a time longer was she blame- 
 less in his eyes. 
 
 On reaching home he found both the parlor and 
 drawing room deserted, and upon inquiry learned that 
 his mother was in her own room. Something, he could 
 hardly tell what, prompted him to knock for admission 
 which being granted, he entered, finding her unusually 
 pale, with the trace of tears still upon her cheek. This 
 of itself was so common an occurrence, that he would 
 hardly have observed it had not there been about 
 her a look of unfeigned distress which he had seldom 
 seen before. 
 
 "What's the matter, mother?" said he, advancing 
 toward her. "What has happened to trouble you?" 
 
 Without any reply, Mrs. Graham placed in his hand 
 a richly cased daguerreotype, and laying her head upon 
 the table sobbed aloud. A moment Durward stood 
 transfixed to the spot, for en opening the case, the fair, 
 beautiful face of 'Lena Rivers looked smilingly out 
 upon him ! 
 
 "Where did you get this, mother? how came you by 
 it?" he asked, and she answered, that in looking through 
 her husband's private drawer, the key of which she had 
 accidentally found in his vest pocket, she had come 
 upon it, together with a curl of soft chestnut-brown 
 hair which she threw across Durward's finger, and 
 from which he recoiled as from a viper's touch. 
 
'LENA RIVERS. * 253 
 
 For several minutes not a word was spoken by either, 
 and then Mrs. Graham, looking him in the face, said, 
 "You recognize that countenance, of course?" 
 
 "I do," he replied in a voice husky with emotion, 
 for Durward was terribly moved. 
 
 Twice had 'Lena asserted that never in her life had 
 her daguerreotype been taken, and yet he held it in his 
 hands; there was no mistaking it — the same broad, 
 open brow — the same full, red lips — the same smile — ■ 
 and more than all, the same clustering ringlets, though 
 arranged a little differently from what she usually wore 
 them, the hair on the picture being combed smoothly 
 over the forehead, while 'Lena's was generally brushed 
 up, after the style of the prevailing fashion. Had Dur- 
 ward examined minutely, he might have found oth« 
 points of difference, but he did not think of that. jA$ 
 look had convinced him that 'twas Lena — his 'Lena, ne" 
 had fondly hoped to call her. But that was over now — 
 she had deceived him — told him a deliberate falsehood — 
 refused him her daguerreotype and given it to his father, 
 whose secrecy concerning it indicated something wrong. 
 His faith was shaken, and yet for the sake of what she 
 had been to him, he would spare her good name. He 
 could not bear to hear the world breathe aught against 
 her, for possibly she might be innocent ; but no, there 
 was no mistaking the falsehood, and Durward groaned 
 in bitterness as he handed the picture to his mother, 
 bidding her return it where she found it. Mrs. Graham 
 had never seen her son thus moved, and obeying him, 
 she placed her hand upon his arm, asking, "why he 
 was so affected — what she was to him?" 
 
 "Everything, everything," said he laying his face 
 upon the table. " 'Lena Rivers was all the world to 
 me. I loved her as I shall never love again." 
 
 And then, without withholding a thing, Durward 
 
254 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 told his mother all — how he had that very morning gone 
 to Frankfort with the intention of offering 'Lena his 
 hand — how he had partially done so, when they were 
 interrupted by the entrance of a visitor, he did not say 
 whom. 
 
 "Thank Heaven for your escape. I can bear your 
 father's conduct, if it is the means of saving you from 
 her," exclaimed Mrs. Graham, while her son continued: 
 
 "And now, mother, I have a request to make of you — 
 a request which you must grant. I have loved 'Lena 
 too well to cease from loving her so soon. And though I 
 can never again think to make her my wife, I will not 
 hear her name lightly spoken by the world, who must 
 never know what we do. Promise me, mother, to 
 keep secret whatever you may know against her." 
 
 "Do you think me bereft of my senses," asked Mrs. 
 Graham petulantly, "that I should wish to proclaim 
 my affairs to every one?" 
 
 "No, no, mother," he answered, "but you are easily 
 excited, and say things you had better not. Mrs. Liv- 
 ingstone bears 'Lena no good will, you know, and some- 
 times when she is speaking disparagingly of her, you 
 may be thrown off your guard, and tell what you know. 
 But this must not be. Promise me, mother, will you?" 
 
 Durward was very pale, and the drops of sweat 
 stood thickly about his mouth as he asked this of his 
 mother, who, mentally congratulating herself upon her 
 son's escape, promised what he asked, at the same 
 time repeating to him all that she heard from Mrs. Liv- 
 ingstone concerning 'Lena, until Durward interrupted 
 her with, "Stop, stop, I've heard enough. Nothing 
 which Mrs. Livingstone could say would have weighed 
 a straw, but the conviction of my own eyes and ears 
 have undeceived me, and henceforth 'Lena and I are 
 strangers." 
 
LENA RIVERS. 255 
 
 Nothing could please Mrs. Graham better, for the* 
 ^dea of her son's marrying a poor, unknown girl, was 
 dreadful, and though she felt indignant toward her hus- 
 band, so peculiar was her nature that she would not 
 have had matters otherwise if she could ; and when 
 Durward, who disliked scenes, suggested the propriety 
 of her not speaking to his father on the subject at 
 present, she assented, saying that it would be more easy 
 for her to refrain, as she was intending to start for 
 Louisville on the morrow. 
 
 "I have been contemplating a visit there for soma 
 time, and before Mr. Graham left home this morning, 
 I had decided to go," said she, at the same time propos. 
 ing that Durward should accompany her. 
 
 To this he consented willingly, for in the first shock of 
 his disappointment, a change of place and scene waa 
 what he most desired. The hot blood of the South s 
 which burned in his veins, seemed all on fire, and he 
 felt that he could not, for the present, at least, be daily 
 associated with his stepfather. An absence of several 
 days, he thought, might have the effect of calming him 
 down. It was accordingly decided that he snould, on 
 the morrow, start with her for Louisville, to be gone 
 two weeks ; and with this understanding they parted, 
 Durward going to his own chamber, there to review 
 the past, and strive, if possible, to efface from his heart 
 every memory of 'Lena, whom he had loved so welL 
 But 'twas all in vain ; he could not so soon forget her, 
 and far in the hours oi night he sat alone, striving to 
 frame some excuse for her conduct. The fact that his 
 father possessed her daguerreotype might possibly be 
 explained, without throwing censure upon her ; but the 
 falsehood — never; and with the firm conviction that she 
 was lost to him forever, he at last retired to rest, just 
 as the clock in the hall below proclaimed the hour of 
 midnight. 
 
256 'leivJ buyers. 
 
 Meantime, Mrs. Graham was pondering in her owe. 
 mind the probable result of a letter which, in the heat 
 of passion she had that day dispatched to 'Lena, accusing 
 * her of " marring the domestic peace of a hitherto happy 
 family," and while she cast some rejections upon her 
 birth, commanding her never, under any circumstances, 
 " to venture into her presence ! " 
 
 This cruel letter had been sent to the office before 
 Durward's return, and as she well knew how much he 
 would disapprove of it, she resolved not to tell him, 
 secretly hoping 'Lena would keep her own counsel. 
 " Base creature," said she, " to give my husband her 
 likeness, but he shall never see it again ; and with 
 stealthy step she advanced toward the secret drawer, 
 which she again opened, and taking from it both 
 •daguerreotype and ringlet, locked it, replacing the key 
 in the pocket where she found it. Then seizing the 
 long, bright curl, she hurled it into the glowing grate, 
 shuddering as she did so, and trembling, as if she really 
 knew a wrong had been done to the dead. 
 
 Opening the case, she looked once more upon the 
 hated features, which now seemed to regard her mourn- 
 fully, as if reproaching her for what she had done. No 
 part of the dress was visible — nothing except the head 
 and neck, which was uncovered, and over which fell 
 the chestnut curls whose companion so recently lay 
 seething and scorching on the burning coals. 
 
 There was a footstep without — her husband had re- 
 turned — and quick as thought was the daguerreotype 
 concealed, while Mrs. Graham, forcing down her emo- 
 tion, took up a book, which she seemed to be intently 
 reading when her husband entered. After addressing 
 to her a few commonplace remarks, all of which she 
 answered civilly, he went to the wardrobe, and on pre- 
 tense of looking for his knife, which, he said, he believed 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 257 
 
 h© left in his vest pocket, he took out the key, and then 
 carelessly proceeded to unlock his private drawer, his 
 wife watching him the while, and keenly enjoying his 
 look of consternation when he saw that his treasure was 
 gone. Again and again was his drawer searched, but 
 all to no purpose, and casting an anxious glance toward 
 his wife, whose face, for a wonder, betrayed no secret, 
 he commenced walking the floor in a very perturbed 
 state of mind, his wife exulting in his discomforture, 
 and thinking herself amply avenged for all that she had 
 endured. 
 
 At last he spoke, telling her of a letter which he had 
 that day received from South Carolina, containing 
 the news of the death of a distant relative, who had 
 left him some property. "It is not necessary for me to 
 be there in person," said he, "but still I should like to 
 visit my old home once more. What do you think of 
 it?" 
 
 "Go, by all means," said she, glad of anything which 
 would place distance between him and 'Lena. "No 
 one can attend to your business one-half as well as 
 yourself. "When will you start if you go?" 
 
 "Immediately — before your return from Louisville— 
 unless you wish to accompany me. " 
 
 "I'm afraid I should be an incumbrance, and would 
 rather not, " said she, in a way which puzzled him, caus- 
 ing him to wonder "what had come over her." 
 
 "You can do as you choose," said he, "but I should be 
 glad of your company. " 
 
 "No, I thank you," was her laconic reply, as she, in 
 turn, wondered what had come over him. 
 
 The next morning the carriage came up to the door 
 to convey Mrs. Graham and Durward to Frankfort. 
 The latter was purposely late, and he did not see his 
 father until he came down, traveling-bag in hand, to 
 
258 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 enter the carriage. Then Mr. Graham asked, in some 
 surprise, "Where he was going!" 
 
 "With my mother, to Louisville, sir," answered Dur- 
 ward, stiffly. I am not willing she should travel alone, 
 if you are;" and he sprang into the carriage, ordering 
 the coachman to drive off ere another word could be 
 spoken. 
 
 "Gone, when I had nerved myself to tell him every- 
 thing — my usual luck!" mused Mr. Graham, as he 
 returned to the house, and sure of no prying eyes, recom- 
 menced his search for the daguerreotype, which was 
 nowhere to be found. Could she have found it? Im- 
 possible ! for it was not in her jealous nature to have 
 held her peace ; and again he sought for it, but all to no 
 purpose; and finally thinking he must have taken it 
 with him and lost it, he gave it up, mourning more for 
 the loss of the curl, which could never, never be re- 
 placed, while the picture might be found. 
 
 "Why do I live so?" thought he, as he nervously 
 paced the room. "My life is one of continual fear and 
 anxiety, but it shall be so no longer. I'll tell her all 
 when she returns. I'll brave the world, dare her dis- 
 pleasure, take 'Lena home, and be a man. " 
 
 Satisfied with this resolution, and nothing doubting 
 that he should keep it, he started for Versailles, where 
 he had an engagement with a gentleman who trans- 
 acted business for him in Lexington. 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 259 
 
 CHAPTER XXIIL 
 
 THE LETTER AND ITS EFFECT. 
 
 Mabel had gone out, and 'Lena sat alone in the little 
 room adjoining the parlor which Mr. Douglass termed 
 his library, but which Nellie had fitted up for a private 
 sewing room. It was 'Lena's favorite resort when she 
 wished to be alone, and as Mabel was this morning ab- 
 sent, she had retired thither, not to work, but to think 
 — to recall every word and look of Durward's, to won- 
 der when and how he would repeat the question, the 
 answer to which had been prevented by Mr. Graham. 
 
 Many and blissful were her emotions as she sat there, 
 wondering if it were not a bright dream, from which 
 she would too soon awaken, for could it be that one so 
 noble, so good, and so much sought for as Durward 
 Bellmont, had chosen her of all others, to be his bride? 
 Yes, it must be so, for he was not one to say or act 
 what he did not mean ; he would come that day and re- 
 peat what he had said before ; and she blushed as she 
 thought what her answer would be. 
 
 There was a knock on the door, and a servant en- 
 tered, bringing her a letter, which she eagerly seized, 
 thinking it was from him. But 'twas not his writing 
 though bearing the postmark of Versailles. Hastily 
 she broke the seal, and glancing at the signature, turned 
 pale, for it was "Lucy Graham," his mother, who had 
 written, but for what, she could not guess. A moment 
 more and she fell back on the sofa, white and rigid as 
 
$60 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 a piece of marble. 'Twas a cruel and insulting letter, 
 containing many dark insinuations, which she, being 
 wholly innocent, could not understand. She knew, in- 
 deed, that Mr. Graham had presented her with Vesta, 
 but was there anything wrong in that? She did not 
 think so, else she had never taken her. Her uncle, her 
 cousin, and Durward, all three approved of her accept- 
 ing it, the latter coming with it himself — so it could not 
 be that ; and for a long time 'Lena wept passionately, 
 resolving one moment to answer the letter as it de- 
 served; determining the next, to go herself and see 
 Mrs. Graham face to face ; and then concluding to treat 
 it with silent contempt, trusting that Durward would 
 erelong appear and make it all plain between them. 
 
 At last, about 5 o'clock, Mabel returned, bringing 
 the intelligence that Mrs. Graham was in the city, at 
 the Weisiger House, where she was going to remain 
 until the morrow. She had met with an accident, 
 which prevented her arrival in Frankfort until the train 
 which she was desirous of taking had left. 
 
 "Is her husband with her?" asked 'Lena, to which 
 Mabel replied, that she understood she was alone. 
 
 "Then I'll see her and know what she means," 
 thought 'Lena, trembling, even then, at the idea of ven- 
 turing into the presence of the cold, haughty woman. 
 
 Supper was over at the Weisiger House, and in a 
 handsome private parlor Mrs. Graham lay, half asleep 
 upon the sofa, while in the dressing room adjoining 
 Durward sat, trying to frame a letter which should tell 
 poor 'Lena that their intimacy was forever at an end. 
 For hours, and until the last gleam of daylight had 
 faded away, he had sat by the window, watching each 
 youthful form which passed up and down the busy 
 street, hoping to catch a glimpse of her who had once 
 
'LENA RIVERSc 261 
 
 made his world. But his watch was in vain, and now 
 he had sat down to write, throwing aside sheet after 
 sheet, as he thought its beginning too cold, too harsh, off 
 too affectionate. He was about making up his mind not 
 to write at all, but to let matters take their course, when 
 a knock at his mother's door, and the announcement 
 that a lady wished to see her, arretted his attention. 
 
 "Somebody want to see me? Just show her up s '* 
 said Mrs. Graham, smoothing down her flaxen hairj, 
 and wiping from between her eyes a spot of powder 
 which the opposite mirror revealed. 
 
 In a moment the visitor entered—a slight, girlish 
 form, whose features were partially hidden from view 
 by a heavy lace veil, which was thrown over her satin 
 hood. A single glance convinced Mrs. Graham that it 
 was a lady, a well-bred lady, who stood before her, and 
 very politely she bade her be seated. 
 
 Rather haughtily the proffered chair was declined, 
 while the veil was thrown aside, disclosing to the aston- 
 ished gaze of Mrs. Graham the face of 'Lena Rivers, 
 which was unnaturally pale, while her dark eyes grev* 
 darker with the intensity of her feelings. 
 
 "'Lena Rivers! why came you here?" she asked, 
 while at the mention of that name Durward started to 
 his feet, but quickly resumed his seat, listening with 
 indescribable emotions to the sound of a voice which 
 made every nerve quiver with pain. 
 
 "You ask me why I am here, madam," said 'Lens, 
 "I came to seek an explanation from you — to know 
 of what I am accused — to ask why you wrote me thai 
 insulting letter — me, an orphan girl, alone and unpro • 
 tected in the world, and who never knowingly harmed 
 you or yours. " 
 
 "Never harmed me or mine!" scornfully repeated 
 Mrs. Graham. "Don't add falsehood to your other sins 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 • — though, if you'll lie to my son, you of course will to 
 me, his mother." 
 
 "Explain yourself madam, if you please," exclaimed 
 'Lena, her olden temper beginning to get the advantage 
 of her. 
 
 "And what if I do not please?" sneeringly asked Mrs. 
 Graham. 
 
 "Then I will compel you to do so, for my good name 
 is all I have, and it shall not be wrested from me with- 
 out an effort on my part to preserve it," answered 'Lena. 
 
 "Perhaps you expect my husband to stand by you 
 and help you. I am sure it would be very ungentle- 
 manly in him to desert you now," said Mrs. Graham, 
 her manner conveying far more meaning than her 
 words. 
 
 'Lena trembled from head to foot, and her voice 
 was hardly distinct as she replied, "Will you ex- 
 plain yourself, or will you not? What have I done, 
 that you should treat me thus?" 
 
 "Done? Done enough, I should think! Haven't you 
 wiled him away from me with your artful manners? 
 Has he ever been the same man since he saw you? 
 Hasn't he talked of you in his sleep? made you most 
 valuable presents which a true woman would have re- 
 fused? and in return, haven' t you bestowed upon him 
 your daguerreotype, together with a lock of your hair, 
 on which you no doubt pride yourself, but which to me 
 and my son seem like so many coiling serpents?" 
 
 'Lena had sat down. She could stand no longer, 
 and burying her face in her hands, she waited until 
 Mrs. Graham had finished. Then, lifting up her head, 
 she replied in a voice far more husky than the one in 
 which she before had spoken — "You accuse me wrong- 
 fully, Mrs. Graham, for as I hope for heaven, I never 
 entertained a feeling for your husband which I would 
 
*LENA RIVERS. 263 
 
 not have done for my own father, and indeed, he has 
 seemed to me more like a parent than a friend " 
 
 "Because you fancied he might some day he one, I 
 dare say," interrupted Mrs. Graham. 
 
 'Lena paid no attention to this sarcastic remark, hut 
 continued: "I know I accepted Vesta, but I never 
 dreamed it was wrong, and if it was, I will make 
 amends by immediately returning her, for much as I 
 love her, I shall never use her again." 
 
 "But the daguerreotype?" interrupted Mrs. Graham, 
 anxious to reach that point. "What have you to say 
 about the daguerreotype? Perhaps you will presume to 
 deny that, too. " 
 
 Durward had arisen, and now in the doorway watched 
 'Lena, whose dark-brown eyes flashed fire as she an- 
 swered, "It is false, madam. You know it is false. I 
 never yet have had my picture taken. " 
 
 "But he has it in his possession; how do you account 
 for that?" 
 
 "Again I repeat, that is false;" said 'Lena, while 
 Mrs. Graham, strengthened by the presence of her son, 
 answered, "I can prove it, miss." 
 
 "I defy you to do so," said 'Lena, strong in her own 
 innocence. 
 
 "Shall I show it to her, Durward," asked Mrs. 
 Graham, and 'Lena, turning suddenly round, became 
 for the first time conscious of his presence. 
 
 With a cry of anguish she stretched her arms implor- 
 ingly toward him, asking him, in piteous tones, to save 
 her from his mother. Durward would almost have laid 
 down his life to prove her innocent, but he felt that 
 could not be. So he made her no reply, and in his eyes 
 she read that he, too, was deceived. With a low wail- 
 ing moan she again covered her face with her hands, 
 while Mrs. Graham repeated her miestion, "Shall I 
 show it to her?" 
 
264 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 Durward was not aware that she had it in her posses* 
 eion, and he answered, "Why do you ask, when you 
 know you cannot do so?" 
 
 Oh, how joyfully 'Lena started up ; he did not believe 
 it, after all, and if ever a look was expressive of grati- 
 tude, that was which she gave to Durward, who re- 
 turned her no answering glance, save one of pity; and 
 again that wailing cry smote painfully on his ear. 
 Taking the case from her pocket, Mrs. Graham ad- 
 vanced toward 'Lena, saying, "Here, see for yourself, 
 and then deny it if you can. " 
 
 But 'Lena had no power to take it. Her faculties 
 seemed benumbed, and Durward, who, with folded 
 arms and clouded brow stood leaning against the man- 
 tel, construed her hesitation into guilt, which dreaded 
 to be convicted. 
 
 "Why don't you take it?" persisted Mrs. Graham. 
 "You defied me to prove it, and here it is. I found it 
 in my husband'c private drawer, together with one of 
 those long curls, which last I burned out of my sight. " 
 
 Durward shuddened, while 'Lena involuntarily 
 thought of the mass of wavy tresses which they had 
 told her clustered around her mother's face, as she lay 
 in her narrow coffin. Why thought she of her mother 
 then? Was it because they were so strangely alike, 
 that any allusion to her own personal appearance always 
 reminded her of her lost parent? Perhaps so. But to 
 return to our story. 'Lena would have sworn that the 
 likeness was not hers, and still an undefined dread crept 
 over her, preventing her from moving. 
 
 "You seem so unwilling to be convinced, allow me to 
 assist you," said Mrs. Graham, at the same time un- 
 clasping the case and holding to tow the picture, on 
 which, with wondering eyes, 'Lena gazed in astonish- 
 ment. 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 265 
 
 "It is I — it is; but oh, Heaven, how came he by it?" 
 she gasped, and the next moment she fell fainting at 
 Durward's feet. 
 
 In an instant he was bending over her, his mother 
 exclaiming, "Pray don't touch her — she does it for 
 effect." 
 
 But he knew better. He knew there was no feigning 
 the corpse-like pallor of that face, and pushing his 
 mother aside, he took the unconscious girl in his arms, 
 and bearing her to the sofa, laid her gently upon it, re- 
 moving her hat and smoothing back from her cold brow 
 the thick, clustering curls which his mother had desig- 
 nated as "coiling serpents." 
 
 "Do not ring and expose her to the idle gaze of serv- 
 ants," said he, to his mother, who had seized the bell- 
 rope. "Bring some water from your bedroom, and we 
 will take charge of her ourselves. " 
 
 There was something commanding in the tones of his 
 voice, and Mrs. Graham, now really alarmed at the 
 deathly appearance of 'Lena, hastened to obey. When 
 he was alone, Durward bent down, imprinting upon the 
 white lips a burning kiss — the first he had ever given 
 her. In his heart he believed her unworthy of his love, 
 and yet she had never seemed one -half so dear to him 
 as at that moment, when she lay there before him help- 
 less as an infant, and all unmindful of the caresses 
 , which he lavished upon her. " If it w ere indeed death, " 
 he thought, "and it had come upon her while yet she 
 was innocent, I could have borne it, but now I would I 
 had never seen her ;" and the tears which feel like rain 
 upon her cheek, were not unworthy of the strong man 
 who shed them. The cold water which they profusely 
 bathed her face and neck with, restored her, and then 
 Durward, who could bear the scene no longer, glided si- 
 kaatly into the next room. 
 
266 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 When he was gone, Mrs. Graham, who seemed bent 
 npon tormenting 'Lena, asked, "what she thought 
 about it now?" 
 
 " Please don't speak to me again, for I am very, very 
 wretched," said 'Lena softly, while Mrs. Graham con- 
 tinued : 
 
 "Have you nothing to offer in explanation?" 
 
 "Nothing, nothing — it is a dark mystery to me, and 
 I wish that I was dead," answered 'Lena, sobbing pas- 
 sionately. 
 
 "Better wish to live and repent," said Mrs. Graham, 
 beginning to read her a long sermon on her duty, to 
 which 'Lena paid no attention, and the moment she felt 
 that she could walk, she arose to go. 
 
 The moon was shining brightly, and as Mr. Douglass 
 lived not far away, Mrs. Graham did not deem an 
 escort necessary. But Durward thought differently. 
 He could not walk with her side by side, as he had often 
 done before, but he would follow at a distance, to see 
 that no harm came near her. There was no danger of 
 his being discovered, for 'Lena was too much absorbed 
 in her own wretchedness to heed aught about her, and 
 in silence he walked behind her until he saw the door of 
 Mr. Douglass' house close upon her. Then feeling that 
 there was an inseparable barrier between them, he re- 
 turned to his hotel, where he found his mother exulting 
 over the downfall of one whom, for some reason, she 
 had always disliked. 
 
 "Didn't she look confounded, though, when I showed 
 her the picture?" said she; to which Durward replied 
 by asking "when and why she sent the letter." 
 
 "I did it because I was a mind to, and I am not 
 sorry for it, either," was Mrs. Graham's crusty answer; 
 whereupon the conversation was dropped, and, as if by a 
 tacit agreement, the subject was not again resumed 
 during their stay in Louisville. 
 
XENA RIVERS. 26? 
 
 It would be impossible to describe 'Lena's emotion** 
 as she returned to the house. Twice in the hall was 
 she obliged to grasp at the banister to keep from falling, 
 and knowing that such excessive agitation would be 
 remarked, she seated herself upon the stairs until she 
 felt composed enough to enter the parlor. Fortunately, 
 Mabel was alone, and so absorbed in the fortunes of 
 "Uncle True and Little Gerty," as scarcely to notice 
 'Lena at all. Once, indeed, as she sat before the grate 
 so motionless and still, Mabel looked up, and observing 
 how white she was, asked what was the matter. 
 
 "A bad headache," answered 'Lena, at the same time 
 announcing her intention of retiring. 
 
 Alone in her room, her feelings gave way, and none 
 save those who like her have suffered, can conceive of 
 her anguish, as prostrate upon the floor she lay, her 
 long silken curls falling about her white face, which 
 looked ghastly and haggard by the moonlight that fell 
 softly about her, as if to soothe her woe. 
 
 "What is it," she cried aloud — "this dark mystery, 
 which I cannot explain." 
 
 The next moment she thought of Mr. Graham. He 
 could explain it — he must explain it. She would go to 
 him the next day, asking him what it meant. She felt 
 sure that he could make it plain, for suspicious as mat- 
 ters looked, she exculpated him from any wrong inten- 
 tion toward her. Still she could not sleep, and when 
 the gray morning light crept in, it found her too much 
 exhausted to rise. 
 
 For several days she kept her room, carefully at- 
 tended by Mabel and her grandmother, who, at the first 
 intimation of her illness, hastened down to nurse her. 
 Every day did 'Lena ask of Mr. Douglass if Mr. Gra- 
 ham had been in the city, saying that the first time he 
 came she wished to see him. Days, however, went by, 
 
268 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 and nothing was seen or heard from him, until at last 
 John Jr., who visited her daily, casually informed her 
 that Mr. Graham had been unexpectedly called away 
 to South Carolina. A distant relative of his had died, 
 bequeathing him a large property, which made it neces- 
 sary for him to go there immediately ; so without wait- 
 ing for the return of his wife, he had started off, leav- 
 ing Woodlawn alone. 
 
 "Gone to South Carolina P" asclaimed Lena. "When 
 will he return?" 
 
 "Nobody knows. He's away from home more than 
 half the time, just as I should be if Mrs. Graham were 
 my wife, " answered John Jr. , at the same time play- 
 fully remarking that 'Lena need not look so blank, as 
 it was not Durward who had gone so far. 
 
 For an instant 'Lena resolved to tell him everything, 
 and ask him what to do ; but knowing how impetuous 
 he was when at all excited, she finally" decided to keep 
 her own secret, determining, however, to write to Mr. 
 Graham, as soon as she was able. Just before Jchn 
 Jr. left her, she called him to her side, asking him if he 
 would do her the favor of seeing that Vesta was sent 
 back to Woodlawn, as she did not wish for her any 
 longer. 
 
 "What the plague is that for — has mother been rais= 
 ing a row?" asked John Jr., and 'Lena replied: 
 
 "No, no, your mother has nothing to do with it. I 
 only want Vesta taken home. I cannot at present tell 
 you why, but I have a good reason, and some time, 
 perhaps, I'll explain. You'll do it, won't you?" 
 
 With the determination of questioning Durward as to 
 what had happened, John Jr. promised, and when Mrs. 
 Graham and her son returned from Louisville, they 
 found Vesta safely stabled with their other horses, 
 while the saddle with its tiny slipper hung upon a beam. 
 
>LENA RIVERS. 269 
 
 and seemingly looked down with reproach upon Dur- 
 ward, who turned away with a bitter pang as he 
 thought of the morning when he first took it to Maple 
 Grove. 
 
 The next day was dark and rainy, precluding all out- 
 door exercise, and weary, sad, and spiritless, Durward 
 repaired to the library, where, for an hour or more he 
 sat musing dreamily of the past — of the morning, years 
 ago, when first he met the little girl who had since 
 grown so strongly into his love, and over whom so 
 dark a shadow had fallen. A heavy knock at the door, 
 and in a moment John Jr. appeared, with dripping 
 garments and a slightly scowling face. There was a 
 faint resemblance between him and 'Lena, manifest in 
 the soft, curling hair and dark, lustrous eyes. Dur- 
 ward had observed it before — he thought of it now — and 
 glad to see any one who bore the least resemblance to 
 her, he started up, exclaiming, "why Livingstone, the 
 very one of all the world I am glad to see." 
 
 John made no reply, but shaking the raindrops from 
 his overcoat, which he carelessly threw upon the floor, 
 he took a chair opposite the grate, and looking Dur- 
 ward fully in the face, said, "I've come over, Bellmont, 
 to ask you a few plain unvarnished questions, which I 
 believe you will answer truthfully. Am I right?" 
 
 "Certainly, sir — go on," was Durward's reply. 
 
 "Well, then, to begin, are you and 'Lena engaged?" 
 
 "No, sir." 
 
 "Have you been engaged?" 
 
 "No, sir." 
 
 "Do you ever expect to be engaged?" 
 
 "No, sir." 
 
 "Have you quarreled?" 
 
 "No, sir." 
 
 "Do you know why she wished to have Vesta sent 
 home?" 
 
270 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 "I suppose I do." 
 
 "Will you tell me?" 
 
 "No sir," said Durward, determined, for 'Lena's 
 sake, that no one should wring from him the secret. 
 
 John Jr. arose, jammed both hands into his pockets 
 ■ — walked to the window — made faces at the weather — 
 walked back to the grate — made faces at that — kicked 
 it — and then turning to Durward, said, "There's the 
 old Nick to pay, somewhere. " 
 
 Nothing from Durward, who only felt bound to an- 
 swer direct questions. 
 
 "I tell you, there's the old Nick to pay, somewhere," 
 continued John, raising his voice. "I knew it all the 
 while 'Lena was sick. I read it in her face when I told 
 her Mr. Graham had gone South " 
 
 A faint sickness gathered around Durward's heart, 
 and John Jr. proceeded: "She wouldn't tell me, and 
 I've come to you for information. Will you give it to 
 me?" 
 
 ' ' No, sir, " said Durward. ' ' The nature of our trouble 
 is known only to ourselves and one other individual, 
 and I shall never divulge the secret. " 
 
 "Is that other individual my mother?" 
 
 "No, sir." 
 
 "Is it Cad?" 
 
 "No, sir." 
 
 "Had they any agency in the matter?" 
 
 "None, whatever, that I know of." 
 
 "Then I'm on the wrong track, and may as well go 
 home," said John Jr., starting for the door, where he 
 stopped, while he added, "If, Bellmont, I ever do hear 
 of your having misled me in this matter — " He did 
 not finish the sentence in words, but playfully produc- 
 ing a revolver, he departed. The next moment he was 
 dashing across the lawn, the mud flying in every direo- 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 271 
 
 tion, and himself thinking how useless it was to try to 
 unravel a love*>quarrel. 
 
 In the meantime, 'Lena waited impatiently for an 
 answer to the letter which she had sent to Mr. Graham, 
 but day after day glided by, and still no tidings came. 
 At last, as if everything had conspired against her, she 
 heard that he was lying dangerously ill of a fever at 
 Havana, whither he had gone in quest of an individual 
 whose presence was necessary in the settlement of the 
 estate. 
 
 The letter which brought this intelligence to Mrs. 
 Graham, also contained a request that she would come 
 to him immediately, and within a few days after its 
 receipt, she started for Cuba, together with Durward, 
 who went without again seeing 'Lena. 
 
 They found him better than they expected. The 
 danger was past, but he was still too weak to move 
 himself, and the physician said it would be many weeks 
 ere he was able to travel. This rather pleased Mrs. 
 Graham than otherwise. She was fond of change, and 
 had often desired to visit Havana, so now that she was 
 there, she made the best of it, and for once in her life 
 enacted the part of a faithful, affectionate wife. 
 
 Often during intervals of mental aberration, Mr. 
 Graham spoke of "Helena," imploring her forgiveness 
 for his leaving her so long, and promising to return. 
 Sometimes he spoke of her as being dead, and in piteous 
 accents he would ask of Durward to bring him back his 
 "beautiful 'Lena," who was sleeping far away among 
 the New England mountains. 
 
 One day when the servant, as usual, came in with 
 their letters, he brought one directed to Mr. Graham, 
 which had been forwarded from Charleston, and which 
 bore the postmarks of several places, it having been sent 
 hither and thither, ere it reached its place of destination* 
 
272 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 It was mailed at Frankfort, Kentucky, and in the 
 superscription Durward readily recognized the hand- 
 writing of 'Lena. 
 
 "Worse and worse," thought he, now fully assured 
 of her worthlessness. 
 
 For a moment he felt tempted to break the seal, but 
 from this act he instinctively shrank, thinking that 
 whatever it might contain, it was not for him to read it. 
 But what should he do with it? Must he give it to his 
 mother, who already had as much as she could bear? 
 No, 'twas not best for her to know aught about it, and 
 as the surest means of preventing its doing further 
 trouble, he destroyed it — burned it to ashes — repenting 
 the next moment of the deed, wishing he had read it, 
 and feeling, not that he had wronged the dead, as his 
 mother did when she burned the chestnut curl, but as 
 if he had done a wrong to 'Lena. 
 
 In the course of two months he went back to Wood- 
 lawn, leaving his father and mother to travel leisurely 
 from place to place, as the still feeble state of the former 
 would admit. 'Lena, who had returned from Frank- 
 fort, trembled lest he should come to Maple Grove, but 
 he seemed equally desirous of avoiding a meeting, and 
 after lingering about Woodlawn for several days, he 
 suddenly departed for Louisville, where, for a time, we 
 leave him, while we follow the fortunes of others con- 
 nected with our story* 
 
*LENA RIVERS. 27i 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV, 
 
 JOHN JR. AND MABEL. 
 
 Time and absence had gradually softened John Jr» 's 
 feelings toward Nellie. She was not married to Mr. 
 Wilbur — possibly she never would be — and if on her 
 return to America he found her the same, he would lose 
 no time in seeing her, and, if possible, secure her to 
 himself. Such was the tenor of his thoughts, as on one 
 bright morning in June he took his way to Lexington, 
 whither he was going on business for his father, Be- 
 fore leaving the city, he rode down to the depot, as was 
 his usual custom, reaching there just as the cars bound 
 for Frankfort were rolling away. Upon the platform 
 of the rear car stood an acquaintance of his, who called 
 out, "Halloo, Livingstone, have you heard the news?" 
 
 "News, no. What news?" asked John Jr., follow- 
 ing after the fast moving train. 
 
 "Bob "Wilbur and Nellie Douglass are married," 
 screamed the young man, who, having really heard of 
 Mr. Wilbur's marriage, supposed it must of course be 
 with Nellie. 
 
 John Jr. had no doubt of it, and for a moment his 
 heart fainted beneath the sudden blow. But he was 
 not one to yield long to despair, and soon recovering 
 from the first shock, he raved in uncontrollable fury, 
 denouncing Nellie as worthless, fickle, and good for 
 nothing, mentally wishing her much joy with her hus- 
 band, who in the same breath he hoped "would break 
 
274 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 his confounded neck," and ending his tirade by solemnly 
 vowing to offer himself to the first girl he met, whethef 
 black or white ! 
 
 Full of this resolution he put spurs to Firelock and 
 sped away over the turnpike, looking neither to the 
 right nor the left, lest a chance should offer for the ful- 
 fillment of his vow. It was the dusk of evening when 
 he reached home, and giving his horse into the care of 
 a servant he walked with rapid strides into the parlor, 
 starting back as he saw Mabel Ross, who, for a few 
 days past, had been visiting at Maple Grove. 
 
 "There's no backing out," thought he. "It's my 
 destiny, and I'll meet it like a man. Nellie spited me, 
 and I'll let her know how good it feels." 
 
 "Mabel," said he, advancing toward her, "will you 
 marry me? Say yes or no, quick." 
 
 This was not quite the kind of wooing which Mabel 
 had expected. 'Twas not what she read of in novels, 
 but then it was in keeping with the rest of John Jr's 
 conduct, and very frankly and naturally she answered 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Very well, "said he, beginning to feel better already; 
 and turning to leave the room — "Very well, you fix the 
 day, and arrange it all yourself, only let it be very 
 soon, for now I've made up my mind, I'm in a mighty 
 hurry." 
 
 Mabel laughed, and hardly knowing whether he were 
 in earnest or not, asked, "if she should speak to the 
 minister, too." 
 
 "Yes, no," said he. "Just tell mother, and she'll fix 
 it all right. Will you?" 
 
 And he walked away, feeling nothing, thinking noth- 
 ing, except that he was engaged ! Engaged ! The very 
 idea seemed to add new dignity to hi?n, while it invested 
 Mabel with a charm she had not hitherto possessed 
 
*LENA RIVERS. 275 
 
 John Jr. liked everything that belonged to him exclu- 
 sively, and Mabel now was his — his wife she would be 
 — and when next he met her in the drawing room, his 
 manner toward her was unusually kind, attracting the 
 attention of his mother, who wondered at the change. 
 One after another the family retired, until there was no 
 one left in the parlor except Mabel and Mrs. Living- 
 stone, who, as her husband chanced to be absent, had 
 invited her young visitor to share her room. When 
 they were alone, Mabel, with many blushes and a few 
 tears, told of all that had occurred, except, indeed, of 
 John Jr.'s manner of proposing, which she thought best 
 not to confide to a third person. 
 
 Eagerly Mrs. Livingstone listened, mentally con- 
 gratulating herself upon the completion of her plan with- 
 out her further interference, wondering the while how 
 it had been so suddenly brought about, and half trem- 
 bling lest it should prove a failure after all. So when 
 Mabel spoke of John Jr.'s wish that the marriage should 
 be consummated immediately, she replied, "Certainly — 
 by all means. There is no necessity for delay. You 
 can marry at once, and get ready afterward. It is now 
 the last of June. I had thought of going to Saratoga 
 in July, and a bride is just the thing to give eclat to 
 our party." 
 
 "But," answered Mabel, who hardly fancied a wed- 
 ding without all the usual preparations, which she felt 
 she should enjoy so much, "I cannot think of being 
 married until October, when Nellie perhaps will be 
 here." 
 
 Nellie's return was what Mrs. Livingstone dreaded, 
 and very ingeniously she set herself at work to put aside 
 Mabel's objections, succeeding so far that the young 
 girl promised compliance with whatever she should 
 think proper. The next morning, as John Jr. was pass* 
 
276 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 ing though the hall, zhe called him into her room, deB« 
 cately broaching the subject of his engagement, saying 
 she knew he could not help loving a girl possessed of so 
 many excellent qualities as Mabel Ross. Very pa- 
 tiently John Jr. heard her until she came to speak of 
 love. Then, in much louder tones than newly engaged 
 men are apt to speak of their betrothed, he exclaimed, 
 "Love! Fudge! If you think I'm marrying Mabel for 
 love, you are greatly mistaken. I like her, but love is 
 out of the question." 
 
 "Pray what are you marrying her for? Her prop- 
 erty?" 
 
 "Property!" repeated John with a sneer, "I've seen 
 the effect of marrying for property, and I trust I'm not 
 despicable enough to try it for myself. No, madam, 
 I'm not marrying her for money — but to spite Nellie 
 Douglass, if you must know the reason. I've loved her 
 as I shall never again love woman-kind, but she cheated 
 me. She's married to Robert Wilbur, and now I've 
 too much spirit to have her think I care. If she can 
 marry, so can I — she isn't the only girl in the world — 
 and when I heard what she had done, I vowed I'd offer 
 myself to the first female I saw. As good or bad luck 
 would have it, 'twas Mabel, who you know said yes of 
 course, for I verily believe she likes me far better than 
 I deserve. What kind of a husband I shall make, the 
 Lord only knows, but I'm in for it. My word is passed, 
 and the sooner you get us tied together the better, but 
 for Heaven's sake don't go to making a great parade. 
 Mabel has no particular home. She's here now and 
 why not let the ceremony take place here. But fix it to 
 suit yourselves, only don't let me hear you talking about 
 it, for fear I'll get sick of the whole thing. " 
 
 This was exactly what Mrs. Livingstone desired. 
 She had the day before been to Frankfort herself, learn* 
 
'LENA RIVERSc 277 
 
 ing from Mrs. Atkins of Mr. "Wilbur's marriage with 
 the English girl. She knew her son was deceived, and 
 it was highly necessary that he should continue so. She 
 felt sure that neither her daughters, Mabel, nor 'Lena 
 knew of Mr. "Wilbur's marriage, and she resolved the$ 
 should not. It was summer, and as many of their city 
 friends had left Frankfort for places of fashionable 
 resort, they received but few calls, and by keeping them 
 at home until the wedding was over, she trusted that 
 all would be safe in that quarter. Durward, too, was 
 fortunately absent, so she only had to deal with Mabel 
 and John Jr. The first of these she approached very 
 carefully, casually telling her of Mr. Wilbur's marriage, 
 and then hastily adding, "But pray don't speak of it to 
 any one, as there are special reasons why it should not 
 at present be discussed. Sometime I may tell you the 
 reason." 
 
 Mabel wondered why so small a matter should be a 
 secret, but Mrs. Livingstone had requested her to keep 
 silence, and that was a sufficient reason why she should 
 do so. The next step was to win her consent for the 
 ceremony to take place there, and in the course of three 
 weeks, saying that it was her son's wish. But on this 
 point she found more difficulty than she had antici- 
 pated, for Mabel shrank from being married at the house 
 of fits father. 
 
 "It didn't look right," said she, "and she knew Mr, 
 Douglass would not object to having it there." 
 
 Mrs. Livingstone knew so, too, but there was too 
 much danger in such an arrangement, and she replied, 
 
 "Of course not, if you request it, but will it be quite 
 proper for you to ask him to be at all that trouble when 
 Nellie is gone, and there is no one at home to superin- 
 tend?" 
 x So after a time Mabel was convinced, thinking, 
 
278 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 though, how differently everything was turning out 
 from what she expected. Three weeks from that night 
 was fixed upon for the bridal, to which but few were to 
 be invited, for Mrs. Livingstone did not wish to call 
 forth remark. 
 
 "Everything should be done quietly and in order," 
 she said, "and then, when autumn came, she would 
 give a splendid party in honor of the bride." 
 
 Mr. Douglass, when told of the coming event by Mrs. 
 Livingstone, who would trust no one else, expressed 
 much surprise, saying he greatly preferred that the 
 ceremony should take place at his own house. 
 
 "Of course," returned the oily-tongued woman, "Of 
 course you had, but even a small wedding party is a 
 vast amount of trouble, and in Nellie's absence you 
 would be disturbed. Were she here I would not say 
 a word, but now I insist upon having it my own way, 
 and indeed, I think my claim upon Mabel is the 
 strongest. " 
 
 Silenced, but not quite convinced, Mr. Douglass said 
 no more, thinking, meanwhile, that if he only could 
 afford it, Mabel should have a wedding worthy of her. 
 Eut he could not ; he was poor, and hence Mrs. Living- 
 stone's arguments prevailed the more easily. Fortunately 
 for her, John Jr. manifested no inclination to go out 
 at all. A kind of torpor seemed to have settled upon 
 him, and day after day he remained at home, some- 
 times in a deep study in his own room, and sometimes 
 sitting in the parlor, where his very unlover-like- 
 deportment frequently brought tears to Mabel's 
 eyes, while Carrie loudly denounced him as the most 
 clownish fellow she ever saw. 
 
 "I hope you'll train him, Mabel," said she, "for he 
 needs it. He ought to have had Nellie Douglass. 
 She's a match for him. Whv didn't you have her T 
 John?" 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 279 
 
 With a face dark as night, he angrily requested Car- 
 rie "to mind her own business," saying, "he was fully 
 competent to take charge of himself, without the inter- 
 ference of either wife or sister." 
 
 "Oh, what if he should look and talk so tome!" 
 thought Mabel, shuddering as a dim foreboding of her 
 sad future came over her. 
 
 'Lena, who understood John Jr. better than any one 
 else, saw that all was not right. She knew how much 
 he had loved Nellie ; she believed he loved her still ; and 
 why should he marry another? She could not tell, and 
 as he withheld his confidence from her, appearing un- 
 usually moody and cross, she dared not approach him. 
 At last, having an idea of what she wanted, and willing 
 to give her a chance, he one day, when they were alone, 
 abruptly asked her what she thought of his choice. 
 
 "If you ask me what I think of Mabel," said she, "I 
 answer that I esteem her very highly, and the more I 
 know her the better I love her. Still, I never thought 
 she would be your wife." 
 
 "Ah — indeed — never thought she would, hey?" an- 
 swered John, beginning to grow crusty, and elevating 
 his feet to the top of the mantel. "You see now what 
 thought did ; but what is your objection to her?" 
 
 "Nothing, nothing," returned 'Lena. "Mabel is 
 amiable, gentle, and confiding, and will try to be a good 
 wife." 
 
 I "What the deuce are you grumbling for, then?" in- 
 terrupted John Jr. "Do you want me yourself? If 
 you do, just say the word, and it shall be done ! I'm 
 bound to be married, and I'd sooner have you than 
 anybody else. Come, what do you say?" 
 
 'Lena smiled while she disclaimed any intention 
 toward her cousin, who, resuming the position which 
 in his excitement he had slightly changed, continued: 
 
280 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 "I have always dealt fairly with you, 'Lena, and now 1 
 tell you truly, I have no particular love for Mabel, al- 
 though I intend making her my wife, and heartily wish 
 she was so now." 
 
 'Lena started, and clasping John's arm, exclaimed, 
 "Marry Mabel and not love her! You cannot be in 
 earnest. You will not do her so great a wrong — you 
 shall not." 
 
 "I don't know how you'll help it, unless you meddle 
 with what does not concern you," said John. "I am 
 doing her no wrong. I never told her I loved her — ■ 
 never acted as though I did ; and if she is content to 
 have me on such terms, it's nobody's business. She 
 loves me half to death, and if the old adage be true that 
 love begets love, I shall learn to love her, and when I 
 do I'll let you know." 
 
 So saying, the young man shook down his pants, 
 which had become disarranged, and walked away, leav- 
 ing 'Lena to wonder what course she had better pursue. 
 Once she resolved on telling Mabel all that had passed 
 between them, but the next moment convinced her that, 
 as he had said, she would be meddling, so she decided 
 to say nothing, silently hoping that affairs would turn 
 out better than she feared. 
 
 It was Mabel's wish that 'Lena and Anna should be 
 her bridesmaids, Durward and Malcolm officiating as 
 groomsmen, and as Mr. Bellmont was away, she wrote 
 to him, requesting his attendance, but saying she had 
 not yet mentioned the subject to 'Lena. Painful as was 
 the task of being thus associated with 'Lena, Durward 
 felt that to refuse might occasion much remark, so he 
 wrote to Mabel that "he would comply with her re- 
 quest, provided Miss Rivers were willing." 
 
 "Of course she's willing," said Mabel to herself, at 
 the same time running with the letter to 'Lena, who, to 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 281 
 
 her utter astonishment, not only refused outright, but 
 also declined giving any particular reason for her doing 
 so. "Carrie will suit him much better than I," said 
 she; but unfortunately, Carrie, who chanced to be pres- 
 ent, half -hidden in the recess of a window, indignantly 
 declined "going Jack at-a-pinch" with any one, so 
 Mabel was obliged to content herself with Anna and 
 Mr. Everett, 
 
 But here a new difficulty arose, for Mrs. Livingstone 
 declared that the latter should not be invited, and 
 Anna, in a fit of anger, insisted that if he were not 
 good enough to be present, neither was she, and she 
 should accordingly remain in her own room. Poor Mabel 
 burst into tears, and when a few moment's afterward 
 John Jr. appeared, asking what ailed her, she hid her 
 face in his bosom and sobbed like a child. Then fright- 
 ened at her own temerity, for he gave her no answer- 
 ing caress, she lifted up her head, while with a quizzical 
 expression John Jr. said, "So-ho, Meb, seems to me 
 you've taken to crying on my jacket a little in advance. 
 But what's the matter?" 
 
 In a few words Mabel told him how everything went 
 wrong, how neither 'Lena, Carrie, nor Anna would be 
 her bridesmaids, and how Anna wouldn't see her mar- 
 ried because Malcolm was not invited. 
 
 "I can manage that," said John Jr. Mr. Everett 
 shall be invited, so just shut up crying, for if there's 
 anything I detest, it is a woman's sniveling;" and he 
 walked off, thinking he had begun just as he meant to 
 Aold out. 
 
28* 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV, 
 
 THE BRIDAL. 
 
 Twas Mabel's wedding night, and in one of the 
 upper rooms of Mr. Livingstone's house she stood await- 
 ing the summons to the parlor. They had arrayed her 
 for the bridal; Mrs. Livingstone, Carrie, 'Lena, Anna 
 and the seamstress, all had had something to do with 
 her toilet, and now they had left her for a time with 
 him who was so soon to be her husband. She knew — 
 for they had told her — she was looking uncommonly 
 well. Her dress, of pure white satin, was singularly 
 becoming ; pearls were interwoven in the heavy braids 
 of her raven hair; the fleecy folds of the rich veil, 
 which fell like a cloud around her, swept the floor. In 
 her eye there was an sjmusual sparkle and on her cheek 
 an unwonted bloom. 
 
 Still Mabel was not happy. There was a heavy pain 
 at her heart — a foreboding of coming evil — and many 
 an anxious glance she cast toward the stern, silent man, 
 who, with careless tread, walked up and down the 
 room, utterly regardless of her presence, and apparently 
 absorbed in bitter reflections. Once only had she ven- 
 tured to speak, and then, in child-like simplicity, she 
 had asked him "how she looked." 
 
 "Well enough," was his answer, as, without raising 
 his eyes, he continued his walk. 
 
 The tears gathered in Mabel's eyes — she could not 
 help it; drop after drop they came, falling upon the 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 283 
 
 marble table, until John Jr., who saw more than he 
 pretended, came to her side, asking "why she wept." 
 
 Mabel was beginning' to be terribly afraid of him, 
 and for a moment she hesitated, but at length, sum- 
 moning all her courage, she wound her arms about his 
 neck, and in low, earnest tones, said, "Tell me truly, 
 do you wish to marry me?" 
 
 "And suppose I do not?" he asked, with the same 
 stony composure. 
 
 Stepping backward, Mabel stood proudly erect before 
 him, and answered, "Then would I die rather than wed 
 you !" 
 
 There was something in her appearance and attitude 
 peculiarly attractive to John Jr. Never in his life had 
 he felt so much interested in her, and drawing her toward 
 him and placing his arm around her, he said, gently, 
 "Be calm, little Meb, you are nervous to-night. Of 
 course I wish you to be my wife, else I had not asked 
 you. Are you satisfied?" 
 
 The joyous glance of the dark eyes lifted so confid- 
 ingly to his, was a sufficient answer, and as if conscious 
 of the injustice he was about to do her, John Jr. bent 
 for an instant over her slight figure, mentally resolving, 
 that so far as in him lay he would be true to his trust. 
 There was a knock at the door, and Mrs. Livingstone 
 herself looked in pale, anxious, and expectant. Mr. 
 Douglass, who was among the invited guests, had 
 arrived, and must have an interview with John Jr. ere 
 1 the ceremony. 'Twas in vain she attempted politely to 
 waive his request. He would see him, and distracted 
 with fear, she had at last conducted him into the upper 
 hall, and out upon an open veranda, where in the moon- 
 light he awaited the coming of the bridegroom, who, 
 with some curiosity, approached him, asking what he 
 wanted. 
 
284 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 "It may seem strange to you," said Mi, Douglass 
 "that I insist upon seeing you now when another time 
 might do as well, but I believe in having a fair under- 
 standing all round." 
 
 "Meddling old rascal !" exclaimed Mrs. Livingstone, 
 who, of course, was within hearing, bending her ears to 
 so as not to lose a word. 
 
 But in this she was thwarted, for drawing nearer to 
 John Jr. , Mr. Douglass said, so low as to prevent her 
 catching anything further, save the sound of his voice, 
 "I do not accuse you of being at all mercenary, but 
 such things have been, and there has something come 
 to my knowledge to-day, which I deem it my duty to 
 tell you, so that hereafter you can neither blame me nor 
 Mabel." 
 
 "What is it?" asked John Jr., and Mr. Douglass re- 
 plied, "To be brief, then, Mabel's large fortune is, with 
 the exception of a few thousands, of which I have 
 charge, all swept away by the recent failure of the 
 Planters' Bank, in which it was invested. I heard of it 
 this morning, and determined on telling you, knowing 
 that if you loved her for herself, it would make no 
 difference, while if you loved her for her money, it were 
 far better to stop here„" 
 
 Nothing could have been further from John's thoughts 
 than a desire for Mabel's wealth, which, precious as it 
 seemed in his mother's eyes, was valueless to him, and 
 after a moment's silence, in which he was thinking 
 what a rich disappointment it would be to his mother, 
 who, he knew, prized Mabel only for her money, he ex- 
 claimed, "Good, I'm glad of it. I never sought Mabel's 
 hand for what there was in it, and I'm more ready to 
 marry her now than ever. But," he added, as a sud- 
 den impulse of good came over him, "She need not 
 know it; it would trouble her uselessly, and for the 
 present we'll keep it from her." 
 
'LENA RIVERS." 285 
 
 John Jr. had always been a puzzle to Mr. Douglass, 
 who by turns censured and admired him, but now there 
 was but one feeling in his bosom toward him, and that 
 was one of unbounded respect. With a warm pressure 
 of the hand he turned away, thinking, perchance, of his 
 fair young daughter, who, far away o'er the Atlantic 
 wave, little dreamed of the scene on which that summer 
 moon was shining. As the conference ended, Mrs. 
 Livingstone who had learned nothing, glided from her 
 hiding place, eagerly scanning her son's face to see if 
 there was aught to justify her fears. But there was 
 nothing, and with her heart beating at its accustomed 
 pace, she descended the stairs in time to meet Durward, 
 who, having reached Woodlawn that day, had not 
 heard of 'Lena's decision. 
 
 "This way, Marster Bellmont — up stars is the gen- 
 tleman's room," said the servant in attendance, and as- 
 cending the stairs, Durward met with Anna, asking her 
 for her cousin. 
 
 "In there — go in," said Anna, pointing to a half -open 
 door, and then hurrying away to meet Malcolm, whose 
 coming she had seen from the window. 
 
 Hesitatingly, Durward approached the chamber indi- 
 cated, and as his knock met with no response, he ven- 
 tured at last to enter unannounced into the presence of 
 'Lena, whom he had not met since that well -remembered 
 night. Tastefully attired for the wedding in a simple 
 white muslin, she sat upon a little stool with her face 
 buried in the cushions of the sofa. She had heard his 
 voice in the lower hall, and knowing she must soon 
 meet him, she had for a moment abandoned herself to 
 the tumult of bitter thoughts, which came sweeping 
 over her in that trying hour. She was weeping — he 
 knew that by the trembling of her body — and for an 
 instant everything was forgotten. 
 
286 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 Advancing softly toward her, he was about to lay his 
 hand upon those clustering curls which fell unheeded 
 around her, when the thought that from among them 
 had been cut the hated tress which his mother had cast 
 into the flames, arrested his hand, and he was himself 
 again. Forcing down his emotion, he said calmly, 
 "Miss Rivers," and starting quickly to her feet, 'Lena 
 demanded proudly what he would have, and why he 
 was there. 
 
 "Pardon me," said he, as he marked her haughty 
 bearing and glanced at her dress, which was hardly in 
 accordance with that of a bridesmaid: "I supposed I 
 was to be groomsman — am I mistaken?" 
 
 "So far as I am concerned you are, sir. I knew 
 nothing of Mabel's writing to you, or I should have 
 prevented it, for after what has occurred, you cannot 
 deem me weak enough to lend myself to such an 
 arrangement. " 
 
 And 'Lena walked out of the room, while Durward 
 looked after her in amazement, one moment admiring 
 her spirit, and the next blaming Mabel for not inform- 
 ing him how matters stood. "But there's no help for it 
 now," thought he, as he descended the stairs and made 
 his way into the parlor, whither 'Lena had preceded 
 him. 
 
 And thus ended an interview of which 'Lena had 
 thought so much, hoping and praying that it might re- 
 sult in a reconciliation. But it was over now — the 
 breach was wider than ever — and with half-benumbed 
 faculties she leaned against the open window, uncon- 
 scious of the earnest desire he felt to approach her, for 
 there was about her a strange fascination which it re- 
 quired all his power to resist. 
 
 When at last all was in readiness, a messenger was 
 dispatched to John Jr., who, without a word, offered 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 287 
 
 his arm to Mabel, and descending the broad stair- 
 case, they stood within the parlor in the spot which 
 had been assigned them. Once during the cere- 
 mony he raised his eyes, encountering those of 'Lena 
 fixed upon him so reproachfully that with a scowl 
 he turned away. Mechanically he went through 
 with his part of the service, betraying no emotion 
 whatever, until the solemn words which made 
 them one were uttered. Then, when it was over — 
 when be was bound to her forever — he seemed suddenly 
 to awake from his apathy and think of what he had 
 done. Crowding around him, they came with words of 
 congratulation— all but 'Lena, who tarried behind, for 
 she had none to give. Wretched as she was herself, 
 she pitied the frail young bride, whose half -joyous, half- 
 timid glances toward the frigid bridegroom, showed 
 that already was she sipping from the bitter cup whose 
 very dregs she was destined to drain. 
 
 In the recess of a window near to John Jr., Mr. 
 Douglass and Durward stood, speaking together of 
 Nellie, and though John shrank from the sound of her 
 name, his hearing faculties seemed unusually sharp- 
 ened, and he lost not a word of what tney were saying. 
 
 "So Nellie is coming home in the autumn, I am 
 told," said Durward, "and I am glad of it, for I miss 
 her much. But what is it about Mr. Wilbur's mar- 
 riage. Wasn't it rather unexpected?" 
 
 "No, not ?ery. Nellie knew before she went that he 
 was engaged to Miss Allen, but at his sister's request 
 she kept it still. He found her at a boarding-school in 
 Montreal several years ago." 
 
 "Will they' remain in Europe?" 
 
 "For a time, at least, until Mary is better — but Nellie 
 comes home with some friends from New Haven, whom 
 ehe met in Paris ;" then in a low tone Mr. Douglass 
 
288 "LENA RIVERS. 
 
 added. "I almost dread the effect of this marriage upon 
 her, for I am positive she liked him better than any one 
 else. " 
 
 The little white, blue-veined hand which rested on 
 that of John Jr., was suddenly pressed so spasmodi- 
 cally, that Mabel looked up inquiringly in the face 
 which had no thought for her, for Mr. Douglass' words 
 had fallen upon him like a thunderbolt, crushing him 
 to the earth, and for a moment rendering him power- 
 less. Instantly he comprehended it all. He had de- 
 ceived himself, and by his impetuous haste lost all that 
 he held most dear on earth. 
 
 There was a cry of faintness, a grasping at empty 
 space to keep from falling, and then forth into the open 
 air they led the half- fainting man, followed by hie 
 frightened bride, who tenderly bathed his damp, cole" 
 brow, unmindful how he shrank from her, shudder- 
 ing as he felt the touch of her soft hand, and motioning 
 her aside when she stooped to part from his forehead 
 the heavy locks of his hair. 
 
 That night the pale starlight of another hemisphere 
 kept watch over a gentle girl, who 'neath the blue skies 
 of sunny France, dreamed of her distant home across 
 the ocean wave; of the gray-haired man, who, with 
 every morning light and evening shade, blessed her as 
 his child; of another, whose image was ever present 
 with her, whom from her childhood she had loved, and 
 whom neither time nor distance could efface from her 
 memory. 
 
 Later, and the silvery moon looked mournfully down 
 upon the white, haggard face and heavy bloodshot eye 
 of him who counted each long, dreary hour as it passed 
 by, cursing the fate which had made him what he was 
 and unjustly hardening his heart against his innocent, 
 unsuspecting wife. 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 289 
 
 CHAPTER XXVL 
 
 MARRIED LIFE. 
 
 For a short time after their marriage, John Jr. 
 treated Mabel with at least a show of attention, but he 
 was not one to long act as he did not feel. Had Nellie 
 been indeed, the wife of another, he might in time have 
 learned to love Mabel as she deserved, but now her 
 presence only served to remind him of what he had lost, 
 and at last he began to shun her society, never seeming 
 willing to be left with her alone, and either repulsing or 
 treating with indifference the many little acts of kind- 
 ness which her affectionate nature prompted. To all 
 this Mabel was not blind, and when once she began to 
 suspect her true position, it was easy for her to fancy 
 slights where none were intended. 
 
 Thus, ere she had been two months a wife, her life 
 was one of constant unhappiness, and, as a matter of 
 course, her health, which had been much improved, be- 
 gan to fail. Her old racking headaches returned with 
 renewed force, confining her for whole days to her 
 room, where she lay listening in vain for the footsteps 
 which never came, and tended only by 'Lena, who, in 
 proportion as the others neglected her, clung to her more 
 and more. The trip to Saratoga was given up, John 
 Jr., in the bitterness of his disappointment, utterly refus- 
 ing to go, and saying there was nothing sillier than for 
 a newly-married couple to go riding around the country, 
 disgusting sensible people with their fooleries. So with 
 
290 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 a burst of tears Mabel yielded, and her bridal tour ex« 
 tended no further than Frankfort, whither her husband 
 did once accompany her, dining out even then with an 
 rid schoolmate whom he chanced to meet, and almost 
 forgetting to call at Mr. Douglass' for Mabel when it 
 was time to return home. 
 
 Ere long, too, another source of trouble arose, which 
 shipwrecked entirely the poor bride's happiness. By 
 some means or other it at last came to Mrs. Living- 
 stone's knowledge that Mabel's fortune was not only all 
 gone, but that her son had known it in time to prevent 
 his marrying her. Owing to various losses her own 
 property had for a few years past been gradually dimin- 
 ishing, and when she found that Mabel's fortune, which 
 she leaned upon as an all-powerful prop, was swept 
 away, it was more than she could bear peaceably; and 
 in a fit of disappointed rage she assailed her son, re- 
 proaching him with bringing disgrace upon the family 
 by marrying a poor, homely, sickly girl, who would be 
 forever incurring expense without any means of paying 
 it ! For once, however she found her match, for in a 
 good round terms John Jr. bade her "go to thunder," 
 his favorite point of destination for his particular 
 friends, at the same time saying, "he didn't care a 
 dime for MabePs money. It was you," said he, "who 
 kept your eye on that, aiding and abetting the match, 
 and now that you are disappointed, I'm heartily glad of 
 it." 
 
 "But who is going to pay for her board," asked Mrs. 
 Livingstone,, "You've no means of earning it, and I 
 hope you don't intend to sponge out of me, for I think 
 I've enough paupers on my hands already !" 
 
 i(, Board!" roared John Jr. in a towering passion, 
 "While you thought her rich, you gave no heed to 
 board or anything else, and since she had become poor, 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 291 
 
 I do not think her appetite greatly increased. Yotf 
 taunt me, too, with having no means of earning my 
 own living. Whose fault is it? — tell me that. Haven't 
 you always opposed my having a profession? Didn't 
 you pet and baby 'Johnny,' when a boy, keeping him 
 always at your apron strings, and now that he's a man, 
 he's not to be turned adrift. No, madam, I shall stay, 
 and Mabel, too, just as long as I please." 
 
 Gaining no satisfaction from him, Mrs. Livingstone 
 turned her battery upon poor Mabel, treating her with 
 shameful neglect, intimating that she was in the way; 
 that the house was full enough already, and that she 
 never supposed John was going to settle down at home 
 for her to support ; that he was big enough to look after 
 himself, and if he chose to marry a wife who had noth- 
 ing, why let them go to work, as other folks did. 
 
 Mabel listened in perfect amazement, never dreaming 
 what was meant, for John Jr. had carefully kept from 
 her a knowledge of her loss, requesting his mother to do 
 the same in such decided terms, that, hint as strongly 
 as she pleased, she dared not tell the whole, for fear of 
 the storm which was sure to follow. All this was not, 
 of course, calculated to add to Mabel's comfort, and 
 day by day she grew more and more unhappy, gener- 
 ously keeping to herself, however, the treatment which 
 she received from Mrs. Livingstone. 
 
 "He will only dislike me the more if I complain to 
 him of his mother," thought she, so the secret was kept, 
 though she could not always repress the tears which 
 would start when she thought how wretched she was. 
 
 "We believe we have said elsewhere, that if there was 
 anything particularly annoying to John Jr., it was a 
 sick or crying woman, and now, when he so often found 
 Mabel indisposed or weeping, he grew more morose and 
 fault-finding, sometimes wantonly accusing her of try- 
 
292 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 ing to provoke him, when, in fact, she had used every 
 means in her power to conciliate him. Again, con- 
 science-smitten, he would lay her aching head upon his 
 bosom, and tenderly bathing her throbbing temples, 
 would soothe her into a quiet sleep, from which she al- 
 ways awoke refreshed, and in her heart forgiving him 
 for all he had made her suffer. 
 
 At such times, John would resolve never again to 
 treat her unkindly, but alas ! his resolutions were toe 
 easily broken. Had he married Nellie, a more faithful, 
 affectionate husband there could not have been. But 
 now it was different. A withering blight had fallen 
 upon his earthly prospects, and forgetting that he alone 
 was to blame, he unjustly laid the fault upon his inno- 
 cent wife, who, as far as she was able, loved him deeply 
 as Nellie herself coald have done. 
 
 One morning about the first of September, John Jr. 
 received a note, informing him that several of his young 
 associates were going on a three days' hunting excur- 
 sion, in which they wished him to join. In the large, 
 easy chair, just before him, sat Mabel, her head sup- 
 ported by pillows and saturated with camphor, while 
 around her eyes were the dark rings which usually ac- 
 companied her headaches. Involuntarily John Jr. 
 glanced toward her. Had it been Nellie, all the pleas- 
 ures of the world could not have induced him to leave 
 her, but Mabel was altogether another person, and more 
 for the sake of seeing what she would say, than from 
 any real intention of going, he read the note aloud; 
 then carelessly throwing it aside, he said, "Ah yes, I'll 
 go. It'll be rare fun camping out these moonlight 
 nights." 
 
 Much as she feared him, Mabel could not bear to 
 have him out of her sight, and now, at the first intima- 
 tion of his leaving her, her lip began to tremble, while 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 293 
 
 tears filled her eyes and dropped upon her cheeks. 
 This was enough, and mentally styling her "a perfect 
 cry-baby, " he resolved to go at all hazards. 
 
 "I don't think you ought to leave Mabel, she feels so 
 badly," said Anna, who was present. 
 
 "I want to know if little Anna's got so she can dic- 
 tate me, too," answered John, imitating her voice, and 
 adding, that "he reckoned Mabel would get over her 
 bad feelings quite as well without him as with him." 
 
 More for the sake of opposition than because she 
 really cared, Carrie, too, chimed in, saying that "he 
 was a pretty specimen of a three month's husband, 5 * 
 and asking "how he ever expected to answer for all of 
 Mabel's tears and headaches. " 
 
 "Hang her tears and headaches," said he, beginning 
 to grow angjry. "She can get one up to order any 
 time, and for my part, I am getting heartily tired of 
 the sound of aches and pains. " 
 
 "Please don't talk so," said Mabel, pressing her hands 
 upon her aching head, while 'Lena sternly exclaimed, 
 "Shame on you, John Livingstone. I am surprised at 
 you, for I did suppose you had some little feeling left. " 
 
 "Miss Rivers can be very eloquent when she chooses, 
 but I am happy to say it is entirely lost on me," said 
 John, leaving the room and shutting the door with a 
 bang, which made every one of Mabel's nerves quiver 
 anew. 
 
 "What a perfect brute," said Carrie, while 'Lena and 
 Anna drew nearer Mabel, the one telling her "she 
 would not care, "and the other silently pressing the little 
 hand which instinctively sought hers, as if sure of find- 
 ing sympathy. 
 
 At this moment Mrs. Livingstone came in, and im- 
 mediately Carrie gave a detailed account of her brother's 
 conduct, at the same time referring her mother for 
 proof to Mabel's red eyes and swollen face. 
 
£94 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 * I never interfere between husband and wife," said 
 Mrs. Livingstone, coolly, "but as a friend, I will give 
 Mabel a bit of advice. Without being at all personal, 
 I would say that a few women have beauty enough to 
 afford to impair it by eternally crying, while fewer men 
 have patience enough to bear with a woman who is for- 
 ever whining and complaining, first of this and then of 
 that. I don't suppose that John is so much worse than 
 other people, and I think he bears up wonderfully, con- 
 sidering his disappointment." 
 
 Here the lady flounced out of the room, leaving the 
 girls to stare at each other in silence, wondering what 
 she meant. Since her marriage, Mabel had occupied 
 the parlor chamber, which connected with a cozy little 
 bedroom and dressing room adjoining. These had at 
 the time been fitted up and furnished in a style which 
 Mrs. Livingstone thought worthy of Mabel's wealth, 
 but now that she was poor, the case was altered, and 
 she had long contemplated removing her to more in- 
 ferior quarters. "She wasn't going to give her the 
 very best room in the house. No, indeed she wasn't — 
 wearing out the carpets, soiling the furniture, and keep • 
 ing everything topsy-turvy." 
 
 She understood John Jr. well enough to know that it 
 would not do to approach him on the subject, so she 
 waited, determining to carry out her plans the very first 
 time he should be absent, thinking when it was once 
 done, he would submit quietly. On hearing that he 
 had gone off on a hunting excursion, she thought, "Now 
 is my time," and summoning to her assistance three or 
 four servants, she removed everything belonging to 
 John Jr. and Mabel to the small and not remarkably 
 convenient room which the former had occupied pre- 
 vious to his marriage. 
 
 "What are you about?" asked Anna, who chanced to 
 pass by and looked in. 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 29& 
 
 "About my business," answered Mrs. Livingstone. 
 ''I'm not going to have my best things all worn out, 
 p,nd if this was once good enough for John to sleep in,, 
 it is now. " 
 
 "But will Mabel like it?" asked Anna, a little suspi- 
 cions that her sister-in-law's rights were being infringed, 
 
 "Kobody cares whether she is pleased or not," said 
 Mrs. Livingstone. "If she don't like it, all she has to 
 do is to go away. " 
 
 "Lasted jest about as long as I thought 'twould, "said 
 Aunt Milly, when she heard what was going on. "He 
 and crab -apple vinegar won't mix, nohow, and if before 
 the year's up old miss don't worry the life out of that 
 poor little sickly critter, that looks now like a picked 
 chicken, my name ain't Milly Livingstone. " 
 
 The other negroes agreed with her. Constantly asso- 
 ciated with the family, they saw things as they were, 
 and while Mrs. Livingstone's conduct was universally 
 condemned, Mabel was a general favorite. After Mrs, 
 Livingstone had left the room, Milly, with one or two 
 others, stole up to reconnoiter. 
 
 "Now I 'ciar' for't," said Milly, "if here ain't Mars-- 
 ter John's bootjack, fish-line, and box of tobacky, right 
 out in far sight, and Miss Mabel comin' in here to sleep, 
 'Pears like some white folks hain't no idee of what, 
 'longs to good manners. Here, Corind, put the jack in. 
 thar, the fish-line thar, the backy thar, and heave that 
 ar other trash out o'door," pointing to some geological 
 specimens which from time to time John Jr. had gath- 
 ered, and which his mother had not thought proper to 
 molest. 
 
 Corinda obeyed, and then Aunt Milly, who really 
 possessed good taste, began to make some alterations in 
 the arrangement of the furniture, and under her super- 
 vision the room soon began to present a more cheerful 
 and inviting aspect 
 
295 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 "Git out with yer old airthen candlestick, " said she, 
 turning up her broad nose at the said article, which 
 stood upon the stand. "What's them tall frosted ones 
 in the parlor chamber for., if 'tain't to use. Go, 
 Corind, and fetch 'em." 
 
 But Corinda did not dare, and Aunt Milly went her- 
 self, taking the precaution to bring them in the tongs, 
 so that in the denouement she could stoutly deny hav- 
 ing ever "tached 'em, or even had 'em in her hands!" 
 So much for a subterfuge, where there is no moral 
 training. 
 
 When Mabel heard of the change, she seemed for a 
 moment stupefied. Had she been consulted, had Mrs, 
 Livingstone frankly stated her reasons for wishing her 
 to take another room, she would have consented will- 
 ingly, but to be thus summarily removed without a 
 shadow of warning, hardly came up to her idea of jus- 
 tice. Still, there was no help for it, and that night the 
 bride of three months watered her lone pillow with 
 tears, never once closing her heavy eyelids in sleep until 
 the dim morning light came in through the open win- 
 dow, and the tread of the negroes' feet was heard in the 
 yard below. Then, for many hours, the weary girl 
 slumbered on, unconscious of the ill-natured remarks 
 which her non-appearance was eliciting from Mrs. Liv- 
 ingstone, who said "it was strange what airs some peo- 
 ple would put on ; perhaps Mistress Mabel fancied her 
 breakfast would be sent to her room, or kept warm for 
 her until such time as she chose to appear ; but she'd 
 find herself mistaken, for the servants had enough to 
 do without waiting upon her, and if she couldn't get 
 up to breakfast, why, she must wait until dinner time !" 
 
 'Lena and Milly, however, thought differently. 
 Softly had the latter stolen up to his cousin's room, gaz- 
 ing pityingly upon the pale, worn face, whose grieved. 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 297 
 
 mournful expression told of sorrow whicb had come all 
 too soon. 
 
 "Let her sleep; it will do her good," said Lena, ad- 
 justing the bed-clothes, and dropping the curtains so 
 that the sunlight should not disturb her, she left the 
 chamber. 
 
 An hour after, on entering the kitchen, she found 
 Aunt Milly preparing a rich cream toast, which, with 
 a cup of fragrant black tea, were to be slyly conveyed to 
 Mabel, who was now awake. 
 
 "Reckon thar don't nobody starve as long as this 
 nigger rules the roost," said Milly, wiping one of the 
 silver tea-spoons with the corner of her apron, and then 
 placing it in the cup destined for Mabel, who, not hav- 
 ing seen her breakfast prepared, relished it highly, 
 thinking the world was not, after all, so dark and 
 dreary, for there were yet a few left who cared for her. 
 
 Her headache of the day before still remained, and 
 'Lena suggested that she should stay in her room, say» 
 ing that she would herself see that every necessary at- 
 tention was paid her. This she could the more readily 
 do, as Mrs. Livingstone had gone to Versailles with her 
 husband. That afternoon, as Mabel lay watching the 
 drifting clouds as they passed and repassed before the 
 window, her ear suddenly caught the sound of horses' 
 feet. Nearer and nearer they came, until with a cry of 
 delight she hid her face in the pillows, weeping for very 
 joy — for John Jr. had come home ! She could not be 
 mistaken, and if there was any lingering doubt, it was 
 soon lost in certainty, for she heard his voice in the hall 
 below, his footsteps on the stairs. He was coming, and 
 unusual thing, to see her first ! 
 
 But how did he know she was there, in his old room? 
 He did not know it; he was only coming to put his rifle 
 in its accustomed place, and on seeing the chamber 
 
298 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 filled with the various paraphernalia of a woman*s toilet, 
 he started, with the exclamation, "What the deuce 1 
 I reckon I've got into the wrong pew," and was 
 going away, when Mabel called him back. "Meb, you 
 here?" said he. " You in this little tucked up hole, that 
 I always thought too small for me and my traps! 
 What does it mean?" 
 
 Mabel had carefully studied the tones of her husband's 
 roice, and knowing from the one he now assumed that 
 he was not displeased with her, the sense of injustice 
 done her by his mother burst out, and throwing her 
 arms around his neck, she told him everything con- 
 nected with her removal, asking what his mother meant 
 by saying, "she should never get anything for their 
 board, "and begging him "to take her away where they 
 could live alone and be happy. " 
 
 Since he had left her, John Jr. had thought a great 
 deal, the result of which was, that he determined on re- 
 turning home much sooner than he at first intended, 
 promising himself to treat Mabel decently, and if possi- 
 ble win back the respect of 'Lena, which he knew he 
 had lost. To his companions, who urged him to remain, 
 he explained that "he had left his wife sick, and he 
 could not stay longer." 
 
 It cost him a great effort to say "my wife," for never 
 before had he so called her, but he felt better the mo- 
 ment he had done so, and bidding his young friends 
 adieu, he started for home with the same impetuous 
 speed which usually characterized his riding. He had 
 fully expected to meet Mabel in the parlor, and was 
 even revolving in his own mind the prospect of kissing 
 her, provided 'Lena were present. "That'll prove to 
 her," thought he, "that I am not the hardened wretch 
 she thinks I am ; so I'll do it, if Meb doesn't happen tc 
 be all bound up in camphor and aromatic vinegar 
 which I can't endure, anyway* '1^ 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 299 
 
 Full of this resolution he had hastened home, going 
 first to his old room, where he had come so unex- 
 pectedly upon Mabel, that for a moment he scarcely 
 knew what to say. By the time, however, that she 
 had finished her story, his mind was pretty well made 
 up. 
 
 "And so it's mother's doings, hey?" said he, violently 
 pulling the bell-rope, and then walking up and down 
 the room until Corinda appeared in answer to his sum- 
 mons. 
 
 "How many blacks are there in the kitchen?" he 
 asked. 
 
 "Six or seven, besides Aunt Polly," answered 
 Corinda. 
 
 "Very well. Tell every man of them to come up 
 here quick." 
 
 Full of wonder Corinda departed, carrying the intelli- 
 gence, and adding that "Marster John looked mighty 
 black in the face, and she reckoned some on 'em would 
 catch it, " at her same time, for fear of what might hap- 
 pen, secretly conveying back to the safe the piece of 
 cake which, in the mistress' absence, she had stolen ! 
 Aunt Milly's first thought was of the frosted candle- 
 sticks, and by way of impressing upon Corinc'a a sense 
 of what she might expect if in any way she implicated 
 her she gave her a cuff in advance, bidding her "be 
 keerful how she blabbed;" then heading the sable 
 group, she repaired to the chamber, where John Jr. 
 was awaiting them. 
 
 Advancing toward them, as they appeared in the 
 doorway, he said, "Take hold here, every one of you, 
 and move these things back where they came from. " 
 
 "Don't, oh don't," entreated Mabel, but laying his 
 hand over her mouth, John Jr. bade her keep still, at 
 the same time ordering the negroes "to be quick." 
 
300 *LENA RIVERS. 
 
 At first the younger portion of the blacks stood 
 speechless, but Aunt Milly, comprehending the whole 
 at once, and feeling glad that her mistress had her 
 match in her son, set to work with a right good will, 
 and when about dusk Mrs. Livingstone came home she 
 was astonished at seeing a light in the parlor chamber, 
 while occasionally she could discern the outline of a 
 form moving before the window. What could it mean? 
 Perhaps they had company, and springing from the 
 carriage she hastened into the house, meeting 'Lena in 
 the hall, and eagerly asking who was in the front 
 chamber. 
 
 "I believe," said Lena, "that my cousin is not pleased 
 with the change, and has gone back to the front room." 
 
 "The impudent thing!" exclaimed Mrs. Livingstone, 
 ignorant of her son's return, and as a matter of course 
 attributing the whole to Mabel. 
 
 Darting up the stairs, she advanced toward the 
 chamber and pushing open the door, stood face to face 
 with John Jr. , who, with hands crammed in his pockets 
 and legs crossed, was leaning against the mantel, 
 waiting and ready for whatever might occur. 
 
 "John Livingstone!" she gasped in her surprise. 
 
 "That's my name," he returned, quietly enjoying her 
 look of amazement. 
 
 "What do you mean?" she continued. 
 
 "Mean what I say," was his provoking answer. 
 
 "What have you been about?" was her next question, 
 to which he replied, "your eyesight is not deficient — you 
 can see for yourself. " 
 
 Gaining no satisfaction from him, Mrs. Livingstone 
 now turned upon Mabel, abusing her until John Jr. 
 sternly commanded her to desist, bidding her "confine 
 her remarks to himself, and let his wife alone, as she 
 was not in the least to blame. " 
 
*LENA RIVERS. 301 
 
 "Your wife!" repeated Mrs. Livingstone — "very 
 affectionate you've grown, all at once. Perhaps you've 
 forgotten that you married her to spite Nellie, who you 
 then believed was the bride of Mr. Wilbur, but you 
 surely remember how you fainted when you accidentally 
 learned your mistake." 
 
 A cry from Mabel, who fell back, fainting, among 
 the pillows, prevented Mrs. Livingstone from any fur- 
 ther remarks, and satisfied with the result of her visit, 
 she walked away, while John Jr. , springing to the bed- 
 side, bore his young wife to the open window, hoping 
 the cool night air would revive her. But she lay so 
 pale and motionless in his arms, her head resting so 
 heavily upon his shoulder, that with a terrible forebod- 
 ing he laid her back upon the bed, and rushing to the 
 door, shouted loudly, "Help — somebody — come quick — 
 Mabel is dead, I know she is." 
 
 'Lena heard the cry and hastened to the rescue, start- 
 ing back when she saw the marble whiteness of Mabel's 
 face. 
 
 "I didn't kill her, 'Lena. God knows I didn't. 
 Poor little Meb," said John Jr., quailing beneath 'Lena's 
 rebuking glance, and bending anxiously over the slight 
 form which looked so much like death. 
 
 But Mabel was not dead. 'Lena knew it by the faint 
 fluttering of her heart, and an application of the usual 
 remedies sufficed, at last, to restore her to conscious- 
 ness. "With a long-drawn sigh her eyes unclosed, and 
 looking earnestly in 'Lena's face, she said, "Was it a 
 dream, 'Lena? Tell me, was it all a dream?" — then, as 
 she observed her husband, she added, shudderingly, 
 "No, no, not a dream. I remember it all now. And I 
 wish I was dead." 
 
 Again 'Lena's rebuking glance went over to John 
 Jr., who, advancing nearer to Mabel, gently laid his 
 
803 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 hand upon her white brow, saying softly, "Poor, pot* 
 •Meb." 
 
 There was genuine pity in the tones of his voice, and 
 while the hot tears gushed forth, the sick girl mur- 
 mured, "Forgive me, John, I couldn't help it. I didn't 
 know it, and now, if you say so, I'll go away, alone— 
 where you'll never see me again. " 
 
 She comprehended it all. Her mother-in-law had 
 rudely torn away the veil, and she saw why she was 
 there — knew why he had sought her for his wife — 
 understood all his coldness and neglect ; but she had no 
 word of reproach for him, her husband, and from the 
 depths of her crushed heart she forgave him, commiser- 
 ating him as the greater sufferer. 
 
 "Maybe I shall die," she whispered, "and then- - a' 
 
 She did not finish the sentence, neither was it r>*;ces- 
 sary, for John Jr. understood what she meant, and 
 with his conscience smiting him as it did, he felt half 
 inclined to declare, with his usual impulsiveness, that 
 it should never be ; but the rash promise was not made, 
 and it was far better that it should not be. 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 303 
 
 CHAPTER ZXYII 
 
 THE SHADOW. 
 
 Mabel's nerves had received too great a shock to 
 rally immediately, and as day after day went by, she 
 still kept her room, notwithstanding the very pointed 
 hints of her mother-in-law that "she was making be- 
 lieve for the sake of sympathy. " "Why didn't she get 
 up and go out doors — anybody would be sick to be flat 
 on their back day in and day out ; or did she think she 
 was spiting her by showing what muss she could keep 
 the "best chamber" in if she chose? 
 
 This last was undoubtedly the grand secret of Mrs. 
 Livingstone's dissatisfaction. Foiled in her effort to 
 dislodge them, she would not yield without an attempt 
 at making Mabel, at least, as uncomfortable in mind as 
 possible. Accordingly, almost every day, when her 
 son was not present, she conveyed from the room some 
 nice article of furniture, substituting in its place one of 
 inferior quality, which was quite good enough, she 
 thought, for a penniless bride. 
 
 "Pears like ole miss goin' to make a clean finish of 
 her dis time," said Aunt Milly, who watched her mis- 
 tress' daily depredations. "Ole Sam done got title deed 
 of her, sure enough. Ki ! won't she ketch it in t'other 
 world, when he done show her his cloven foot, and 
 won't she holler for old Milly to fotch her a drink of 
 water? not particular then — drink out of the bucket, 
 gourd-shell, or anything; but dis nigger'll sign hex 
 post in de parlor afore she'll go." 
 
804 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 "Why, Milly," said 'Lena, who overheard this solil- 
 oquy, "don't you know it's wrong to indulge in such 
 wicked thoughts?" 
 
 "Bless you, child," returned the old negress, "she 
 'sarves 'em all for treatin' that poor, dear lamb so. I'd 
 'nihilate her if I's Miss Mabel." 
 
 "No, no, Milly," said Aunt Polly, who was present. 
 "You must heap coals of fire on her head." 
 
 "Yes, yes, that's it — she orto have 'em," quickly re- 
 sponded Milly, thinking Polly's method of revenge the 
 very best in the world, provided the coals were "bilin' 
 hot," and with this reflection she started upstairs, with a 
 bowl of nice warm gruel she had been preparing for the 
 invalid. 
 
 Several times each day Grandma Nichols visited Ma- 
 bel's room, always prescribing some new tea of herbs, 
 whose healing qualities were wonderful, having effected 
 cures in every member of Nancy Scovandyke's family, 
 that lady herself, as a matter of course, being first in- 
 cluded. And Aunt Milly, with the faithfulness charac- 
 teristic of her race, would seek out each new herb, unit- 
 ing with it her own simple prayer that it might have 
 the desired effect. But all in vain, for every day 
 Mabel became weaker, while her dark eyes grew larger 
 and brighter, anon lighting up with joy as she heard 
 her husband's footsteps in the hall, and again filling 
 with tears as she glanced timidly into his face, and 
 thought of the dread reality. 
 
 "Maybe I shall die," was more than once murmured 
 in her sleep, and John Jr., as often as he heard those 
 words, would press her burning hands, and mentally 
 reply, "Poor little Meb." 
 
 And all this time no one thought to call a physician, 
 until Mr. Livingstone himself at last suggested it. At 
 first he had felt no interest whatever in his daughter-in- 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 305 
 
 law, but with him force of habit was everything, and 
 when she ho longer came among them, he missed her — 
 missed her languid steps upon the stairs and her childish 
 voice in the parlor. At last it one day occurred to him 
 to visit her. She was sleeping when he entered the room, 
 but he could see there had been a fearful change since 
 last he looked upon her, and without a word concerning 
 his intentions, he walked to the kitchen, ordering one of 
 his servants to start forthwith for the physician, whose 
 residence was a few miles distant. 
 
 Mrs. Livingstone was in the front parlor when he re- 
 turned, in company with Doctor Gordon, and imme- 
 diately her avaricious spirit asked who would pay the 
 bill, and why was he sent for. Mabel did not need him 
 — she was only babyish and spleeny — and so she told 
 the physician, who, however, did not agree with her. 
 He did not say that Mabel would die, but he thought 
 so, for his experienced eye saw in her infallible signs of 
 the disease which had stricken down both her parents, 
 and to which, from her birth, she had been a prey. 
 Mabel guessed as much from his manner, and when 
 again he visited her, she asked him plainly what he 
 thought. 
 
 She was young — a bride — surrounded apparently by 
 everything which could make her happy, and the physi- 
 cian hesitated, answering her evasively, until she said, 
 "Do not fear to tell me truly, for I want to die. Oh, I 
 long to die," she continued, passionately clasping her 
 thin white hands together. 
 
 "That is an unusual wish in one so young, "answered 
 the physician, "but to be plain with you, Mrs. Living- 
 stone, I think consumption too deeply seated to admit 
 of your recovery. You may be better, but never well. 
 Your disease is hereditary, and has been coming on too 
 long." 
 
806 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 "It is well," was Mabel's only answer, as she turned 
 wearily upon her side and hid her face in the pillows. 
 
 For a long time she lay there, thinking, weeping, and 
 thinking again, of the noisome grave through which 
 she must pass, and from which she instinctively shrank, 
 it was so dark, so cold, and dreary. 
 
 But Mabel had trusted in One who she knew would 
 go with her down into the lone valley — whose arm she 
 felt would uphold her as she crossed the dark, rolling 
 stream of death ; and as if her frail bark were already 
 safely moored upon the shores of the eternal river, she 
 looked back dreamily upon the world she had left, and 
 as she saw what she felt would surely be. she again 
 murmured through her tears, "It is well." 
 
 That night, when John Jr. came up to his room, he 
 appeared somewhat moody and cross, barely speaking 
 to Mabel, and then walking up and down the room with 
 the heavy tread which always indicated a storm within. 
 He had that day been to Frankfort, hearing that Nellie 
 was really coming home very soon — very possibly sh« 
 was now on her way. Of course she would visit Mabel, 
 when she heard she was sick, and of course he must- 
 meet her face to face, must stand with her at the bed « 
 side of his wife, and that wife Mabel. In his heart he 
 did not accuse the latter of feigning her illness, but he 
 wished she would get well faster, so that Nellie need 
 not feel obliged to visit her. She could at least make 
 an effort — a great deal depended upon that — and she 
 had now been confined to her room three or four weeks. 
 
 Thus he reflected as he walked, and at last his 
 thoughts formed themselves into words. Stopping 
 short at the foot of the bed, he said abruptly and with- 
 out looking her in the face, "How do you feel to-night?" 
 
 The stifled cough which Mabel tried to suppress be- 
 cause it was offensive to him, brought a scowl to his 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 307 
 
 forehead, and in imagination he anticipated her answer. 
 "I do not think I am any better." 
 
 "And I don't believe you try to be," sprang to his 
 lips, but its utterance was prevented by a glance at her 
 face which, by the flickering lamplight looked whiter 
 than ever. 
 
 "Nellie is coming home in a few weeks," he said at 
 length, with his usual precipitancy. 
 
 'Twas the first time Mabel had heard that name since 
 the night when her mother-in-law had rang it in her 
 ears, and now she started so quickly, that the offending 
 cough could not be forced back, and the coughing fit 
 which followed was so violent that John Jr. , as he held 
 the bowl to her quivering lips, saw that what she had 
 raised was streaked with blood. But he was unused 
 to sickness, and he gave it no farther thought, resum- 
 ing the conversation as soon as she became quiet. 
 
 "To be plain, Meb," said he, "I want you to hurry 
 and get well before Nellie comes — for if you are sick 
 she'll feel in duty bound to visit you, and I'd rather face 
 a loaded cannon than her. " 
 
 Mabel was too much exhausted to answer immedi- 
 ately, and she lay so long with her eyes closed that John 
 Jr., growing impatient, said, "Are you asleep, Meb?" 
 
 "No, no," said she, at the same time requesting him 
 to take the vacant chair by her side, as she wished to 
 talk with him. 
 
 John Jr. hated to be talked to, particularly by her, 
 for he felt that she had much cause to reproach him ; 
 but she did not, and as she proceeded, his heart melted 
 toward her in a manner which he had never thought 
 possible. Very gently she spoke of her approaching 
 end as sure. 
 
 "You ask me to make haste and be well," said she 
 "but it cannot be. I shall never go out into the bright 
 
308 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 sunshine again, never join you in the parlor below, and 
 before the cold winds of winter are blowing, I shall be 
 dead. I hope I shall live until Nellie comes, for I must 
 see her. I must make it right betw3en her and you. I 
 must tell her to forgive you for marrying me when you 
 loved only her ; and she will listen — she won't refuse 
 me, and when I am gone you'll be happy together. " 
 
 John Jr. did not speak, but the little hand which 
 nervously moved toward him was met more than half- 
 way, and thus strengthened, Mabel continued : "You 
 must sometimes think and speak of Mabel when sue is 
 dead. I do not ask you to call me wife. I do not wish 
 it, but you must forget how wretched I have made you, 
 for oh, I did not mean it, and had I sooner known what 
 I do now, I would have died ere I had caused you one 
 pang of sorrow. " 
 
 Afterward, when it was too late, John Jr. would 
 have given worlds to recall that moment, that he might 
 tell the broken-hearted girl how bitterly he, too, re- 
 pented of all the wrong he had done her ; but he did 
 not say so then — he could only listen, while he mentally 
 resolved that if Mabel were indeed about to die, he 
 would make the remainder of her short life happy, and 
 thus atone, as far as possible, for the past. But alas 
 for John Jr. , his resolutions were easily broken, and as 
 days and weeks went by, and there was no perceptible 
 change in her, he grew weary of well-doing, absenting 
 himself whole days from the sick-room, and at night 
 rather unwillingly resuming his post as watcher, for 
 Mabel would have no one else. 
 
 Since Mabel's illness he had occupied the little room 
 adjoining hers, and often when in the still night he lay 
 awake, watching the shadow which the lamp cast upon 
 the wall, and thinking of her for whom the light was 
 constantly kept burning, his conscience would smite him 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 309 
 
 terribly, and rising up, he would steal softly to her bed- 
 side, to see if she were sleeping quietly. But anon he 
 grew weary of this, too; the shadow on the wall 
 troubled him ; it kept him awake ; it was a continual 
 reproach, and he must be rid of it, somehow. He tried 
 the experiment of closing his door, but Mabel knew the 
 moment he attempted it, and he could not refuse her 
 when she asked him to leave it open. 
 
 John Jr. grew restless, fidgety, and nervous. "Why 
 need the lamp be kept burning? He could light it 
 when necessary; or why need he sleep there, when 
 some one else would do as well? He thought of 'Lena 
 — she was just the one, and the next day he would 
 speak to her. To his great joy she consented to relieve 
 him awhile, provided Mabel were willing; but she was 
 not, and John Jr. was forced to submit. He was not 
 accustomed to restraint, and every night matters 
 grew worse and worse. The shadow annoyed him ex- 
 ceedingly. If he slept, he dreamed that it kept a glim- 
 mering watch over him, and when he awoke, he, in 
 turn, watched over that, until the misty daylight came 
 to dissipate the phantom. 
 
 About this time several families from Frankfort 
 started for New Orleans, where they were wont to 
 spend the winter, and irresistibly, John Jr. became 
 possessed of a desire to visit that city, too. Mabel 
 would undoubtedly live until spring, now that the try- 
 ing part of autumn was past, and there could be no 
 harm in his leaving her for awhile, when he so much 
 needed rest. Accordingly, 'Lena was one day sur- 
 prised by his announcing his intended trip. 
 
 "But you cannot be in earnest," she said; "you 
 surely will not leave Mabel now. " 
 
 "And why not?" he asked. "She doesn't grow any 
 worse, and won't until spring, and this close confine- 
 
810 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 ment is absolutely killing me! Why, I've lost six 
 pounds in six months, and you'll see to her, I know you 
 will. You're a good girl and I like you, if I did get 
 angry with you weeks ago when I went a hunting. " 
 
 'Lena knew he ought not to go, and she tried hard to 
 convince him of the fact, telling him how much pleasure 
 she had felt in observing his improved manner toward 
 Mabel, and that he must not spoil it now. 
 
 "It's no use talking," said he, "I'm bent on going 
 somewhere. I've tried to be good, I know, but the fact 
 is, I can't stay put. It isn't my nature. I shan't tell 
 Meb till just before I start, for I hate scenes. " 
 
 "And suppose she dies while you are gone?" asked 
 'Lena. 
 
 John was beginning to grow impatient, for he knew 
 he was wrong, and rather tartly he answered, as he left 
 the room, "Give her a decent burial, and present the 
 bill to mother !" 
 
 The next morning, as 'Lena sat alone with Mabel, 
 John Jr. entered, dressed and ready for his journey. 
 But he found it harder telling his wife than he had an- 
 ticipated. She looked unusually pale this morning. 
 The sallowness of her complexion was all gone, and 
 on either cheek there burned a round, bright spot. 
 'Lena had just been arranging her thick, glossy hair, 
 and now, wholly exhausted, she reclined upon her pil- 
 lows, while her large, black eyes, unnaturally bright, 
 sparkled with joy at the sight of her husband. But 
 they quickly filled with tears when told that he was 
 going away, and had come to say good-by. 
 
 "It's only to New Orleans and back," he said, as he 
 saw her changing face. "I shan't be gone long, and 
 'Lena will take care of you a heap better than I can. " 
 
 "It isn't that," answered Mabel, wiping her tears 
 away. "Don't go, John. Wait a little while. I'm 
 sure it won't be long. " 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 311 
 
 "You are nervous, " said he, playfully tapping her 
 white cheek. "You're not going to die. You'll live to 
 be grandmother yet, who knows? But I must be off or 
 lose the train. Good-by, little Meb, " grasping her hand, 
 "Good-by, 'Lena. I'll bring you both something nice 
 — good-by. " 
 
 When she saw that he was going, Mabel asked him 
 to come back to her bedside just for one moment. He 
 could not refuse, and winding her long, emaciated arms 
 around his neck, she whispered, "Kiss me once before 
 you go. I shall never ask it again, and 'twill make me 
 happier when you are gone." 
 
 "A dozen times, if you like," said he giving her the 
 only husband's kiss she had ever received. 
 
 For a moment longer she detained him, while she 
 prayed silently for Heaven's blessing on his wayward 
 head, and then releasing him, she bade him go. Had 
 he known of all that was to follow, he would not have 
 left her, but he believed as he said, that she would sur- 
 vive the winter, and with one more kiss upon her brow, 
 where the perspiration was standing thickly, he de- 
 parted. The window of Mabel's room commanded a 
 view of the turnpike, and when the sound of horses' feet 
 were heard on the lawn, she requested 'Lena to lead 
 her to the window, where she stood watching him until 
 a turn in the road hid him from her sight. 
 
 " 'Tis the last time," said she, "and he will never 
 know how much this parting cost me. " 
 
 That night, as they were alone in the gathering twi- 
 light, Mabel said, "If I die before Nellie comes I want 
 you to tell her how it all happened, and that she must 
 forgive him, for he was not to blame. " 
 
 "I do not understand you," said 'Lena, and then, in 
 broken sentences, Mabel told what her mother-in-law 
 had said, and how terribly John was deceived. "Of 
 
312 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 course lie couldn't love me after that," said she, "and 
 it's right that I should die. He and Nellie were made 
 for each other, and if the inhabitants of heaven are 
 allowed to watch over those they loved on earth, I will 
 ask to be always near them. You will tell her, won't 
 you?" 
 
 'Lena promised, adding that she thought Mabel would 
 see Nellie herself as she was to sail from Liverpool the 
 20th, and a few days proved her conjecture correct. 
 Entering Mabel's room one morning about a week after 
 John's departure, she brought the glad news that Nellie 
 had returned, and would be with them to-morrow. 
 
 The next day Nellie came, but she, too, was changed. 
 The roundness of her form and face was gone ; the rose 
 had faded from her cheek, and her footsteps were no 
 longer light and bounding as of old. She knew of 
 John Jr. 's absence or she would not have come, for she 
 could not meet him face to face. She had heard, too, 
 of his treatment of Mabel, and while she felt indignant 
 toward him, she freely forgave his innocent wife, who 
 she felt had been more sinned against than sinning. 
 
 With a faint cry Mabel started from her pillow, and 
 burying her face on Nellie's neck, wept like a child. 
 "You do not hate me," she said at last, "or you would 
 not have come so soon. " 
 
 "Hate you? no," answered Nellie. "I have no cause 
 for hating you." 
 
 "And you will stay with me until I die — until he 
 comes home — and forgive him, too," Mabel continued. 
 
 "I can promise the first, but the latter is harder," 
 said Nellie, her cheeks burning with anger as she gazed 
 on the wreck before her. 
 
 "But you must, you will," exclaimed Mabel, rapidly 
 telling all she knew ; then falling back upon the pillow 
 she added, "You'll forgive him now." 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 313 
 
 As time passed on, Mabel grew weaker and weaker, 
 clinging closer to Nellie as she felt the dark shadow of 
 death creeping gradually over her. 
 
 "If he'd only come," she would say, "and I could 
 place your hand in his before I died. " 
 
 But it was not to be. Day after day John Jr. lin- 
 gered, dreading to return, for he knew Nellie was there, 
 and he could not meet her, he thought, at the bedside 
 of Mabel. So he tarried until a letter from 'Lena, 
 which said that Mabel would die, decided him, and 
 rather reluctantly he started homeward. Meantime 
 Mabel, who knew nothing of her loss, conceived the 
 generous idea of willing all her possessions to her re- 
 creant husband. 
 
 "Perhaps he'll think more kindly of me," said she to 
 his father, to whom she first communicated her plan, 
 and Mr. Livingstone felt that he could not undeceive 
 her. 
 
 Accordingly, a lawyer was summoned from Frank- 
 fort, and the will duly drawn up, signed, sealed, and 
 delivered into the hands of Mr. Livingstone, whose 
 wife, with a mocking laugh, bade him "guard it care- 
 fully, it was so valuable. " 
 
 "It shows her goodness of heart, at least,'' said he, 
 and possibly Mrs. Livingstone thought so, too, for from 
 that time her manner softened greatly toward her 
 daughter-in-law. 
 
 It was midnight at Maple Grove. On the table, in 
 its accustomed place, the lamp was burning dimly, cast- 
 ing the shadow upon the wall, whilst over the whole 
 room a darker shadow was brooding. The window 
 was open, and the cool night air came softly in, lifting 
 the masses of raven hair from off the pale brow of the 
 dying. Tenderly above her Nellie and 'Lena were bend* 
 
314 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 ing. They had watched by her many a night, and now 
 she asked them not to leave her, not to disturb a single 
 one — she would rather die alone. 
 
 The sound of horses' hoofs rang out on the still air, 
 but she did not heed it. Nearer and nearer it came, 
 and over the lawn, up the graveled walk, through the 
 yard, and Nellie's face blanched to an unnatural white- 
 ness as she thought who that midnight rider was. 
 Arrived in Frankfort only an hour before, he had has- 
 tened forward, impelled by a something he could not 
 resist. From afar he had caught the glimmering light, 
 and he felt he was not too late. He knew how to enter 
 the house, and on through the wide hall and up the 
 broad staircase he came, until he stood in the chamber, 
 where before him another guest had entered, whose 
 name was Death ! 
 
 Face to face he stood with Nellie Douglass, and be- 
 tween them lay his wife — her rival — the white hands 
 folded meekly upon her bosom, and the pale lips just as 
 they had breathed a prayer for him. 
 
 "Mabel! She is dead!" was all he uttered, and fall- 
 ing upon his knees, he buried his face in the pillow, 
 while half -scornfully, half -pityingly, Nellie gazed upon 
 him. 
 
 There was much of bitterness in her heart toward 
 him, not for the wrong he had done her, but for the 
 sake of the young girl, now passed forever away. 
 'Lena felt differently. His silent grief conquered all 
 resentment, and going to his side, she told him how 
 peacefully Mabel had died — how to the last she had 
 loved and remembered him, praying that he might be 
 happy when she was gone. 
 
 "Poor little Meb, she deserved a better fate," was all 
 he said, as he continued his kneeling posture, until the 
 family and servants, whom Nellie had summoned, 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 315 
 
 came crowding round, the cries of the latter grating on 
 the ear, and seeming sadly out of place for her whose 
 short life had been so dreary, and who had welcomed 
 death as a release from all her pain. 
 
 It was Mrs. Livingstone's wish that Mabel should be 
 arrayed in her bridal robes, but with a shudder at the 
 idle mockery, John Jr. answered, "No;" and in a plain 
 white muslin, her shining hair arrayed as she was wont 
 to wear it, they placed her in her coffin, and on a sunny 
 slope where the golden sunlight and the pale moon- 
 beams latest fell, and where in spring the bright green 
 grass and sweet wild flowers are earliest seen, they laid 
 her down to sleep. 
 
 That night, when all around was still, John Jr. lay 
 musing sadly of the past. His affection for Mabel had 
 been slight and variable, but now that she was gone, he 
 missed her. The large, easy chair, with its cushions 
 and pillows, was empty, and as he thought of the pale, 
 dark face and aching head he had so often seen reclin- 
 ing there, and which he would never see again, he 
 groaned in bitterness of spirit, for well he knew that he 
 had helped to break the heart now lying cold and still 
 beneath the coffin lid. There was no shadow on the 
 wall, for the lamp had gone out with the young life for 
 whom it had been kept burning, but many a shadow lay 
 dark and heavy across his heart. 
 
 With the sun-setting a driving rain had come on, and 
 as the November wind went howling past the window, 
 and the large drops beat against the casement, he 
 thought of the lonesome little grave on which that rain 
 was falling; and shuddering, he hid his face in the pil- 
 lows, asking to be forgiven, for he knew that all too 
 soon that grave was made, and he had helped to make 
 it. At last, long after the clock had told the hour of 
 midnight, he arose, and lighting the lamp which many 
 
316 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 a weary night had burned for her, he placed it where 
 the shadow would fall upon the wall as it had done of 
 old. It was no longer a phantom to annoy him, and 
 soothed by its presence, he fell asleep, dreaming that 
 Mabel had come back to bring him her forgiveness, but 
 when he assayed to touch her, she vanished from his 
 sight, and there was nothing left save that shadow o« 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 317 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 MRS. GRAHAM'S RETURN. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Graham had returned to Woodlawn, 
 the former remaining but a day and night, and then, 
 without once seeing 'Lena, departing for Europe, where 
 business, either fancied or real, called him. Often, 
 when lying weary and sick in Havana, had he resolved 
 on revealing to his wife the secret which he felt was 
 wearing his life away, but the cowardice of his nature 
 seemed increased by physical weakness, and from time 
 to time was the disclosure postponed, while the chain 
 of evidence was fearfully lengthening around poor 'Lena, 
 to whom Mrs. Graham had transferred the entire weight 
 of her displeasure. 
 
 Loving her husband as well as such as she could love, 
 she was ever ready to forgive when she saw any indica- 
 tions of reform on his part, and as during all their jour- 
 ney he had never once given her cause for offense, sh<> 
 began to attribute his former delinquencies wholly to 
 'Lena; and when he proposed a tour to Europe she 
 readily sanctioned it, hoping that time and absence 
 would remove from his mind all thoughts of the beauti- 
 ful girl, who she thought was her rival. Still, though 
 she would not confess it, in her heart she did not believe 
 'Lena guilty, except so far as a desire to attract Mr. 
 Graham's attention would make her so. 
 
 For this belief she had a good and potent reason. 
 The daguerreotype which had caused so much trouble 
 
318 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 was still in her possession, guarded carefully from he* 
 husband, who never suspecting the truth, supposed he 
 had lost it. Frequently had Mrs. Graham examined 
 the picture, each time discovering some point of differ- 
 ence between it and its supposed original. Still she 
 never for a moment doubted that it was 'Lena, until an 
 event occurred which convinced her of the contrary, 
 leaving her, meantime, more mystified than ever. 
 
 On their way home from Havana, Mr. Graham had 
 proposed stopping a day in Cincinnati, taking rooms at 
 the Burnet House, where the first individual whom 
 they saw at the table was our old acquaintance, Joel 
 Slocum. Not finding his business as profitable in Lex- 
 ington as he could wish, he had recently removed to 
 Cincinnati. Here his aspiring mind had prompted him 
 to board at the Burnet House, until he'd seen the "Ohio 
 elephant," when he intended retiring to one of the 
 cheaper boarding-houses. The moment he saw Mr. 
 Graham, a grin of recognition became visible on his 
 face, bringing to view a row of very long and very yel- 
 low teeth, apparently unacquainted with the use of 
 either water or brush. 
 
 "Who is that loafer who seems to know you?" asked 
 Mrs. Graham, directing her husband's attention toward 
 Joel. 
 
 Mr. Graham replied that "he had once seen him in 
 Lexington, and that he took daguerreotypes." 
 
 The moment dinner was over, Joel came forward, 
 going through with one of his wonderful bows, and ex- 
 claiming, with his peculiar nasal twang, "Now you 
 don't say this is you. And this is your old woman, I 
 s'pose. Miss Graham, how-dy-du? Darned if you 
 don't look like Aunt Nancy, onty she's lean and you are 
 squatty. S'posin' you give me a call and get your pic- 
 ters taken. I didn't get an all-killin' sight of practice 
 
V LENA RIVERS. 319 
 
 in Lexington, for the plaguy green -horns didn't know 
 enough to patternize me, and 'taint a tarnation sight 
 better here; but you," turning to Mr. Graham, "em- 
 ployed me once, and pretended to be suited. " 
 
 Mr. Graham turned scarlet, and saying something in 
 an undertone to Joel, gave his wife his arm, leading her 
 to their room, where he made an excuse for leaving her 
 awhile. Looking from the window a moment after, 
 Mrs. Graham saw him walking down the street in close 
 conversation with Joel, who, by the way of showing his 
 importance, lifted his white beaver to almost every man 
 he met. Instantly her curiosity was roused, and when 
 her husband returned, every motion of his was narrowly 
 watched, the espionage resulting in the conviction that 
 there was something in his possession which he did not 
 wish her to see. Once, when she came unexpectedly 
 upon him, he hastily thrust something into his pocket, 
 appearing so much confused that she resolved to ferret 
 out the secret. 
 
 Accordingly, that night, when assured by his heavy 
 breathing that he was asleep, she crept softly from his 
 side and rummaging his pockets, found a. daguerreotype, 
 which by the full moonlight she saw was a, facsimile of. 
 the one she had in her possession. The arrangement of 
 the hair — everything — was the same, and utterly con- 
 founded, she stood gazing first at one and then at the 
 other, wondering what it meant. Could 'Lena be in 
 the city? Sae thought not, and even if she were, the 
 last daguerreotype was not so much like her, she fan- 
 cied, as the first. At all events, she did not dare secrete 
 it as she had done its companion, and stealthily return- 
 ing it to its place, she crept back to bed. 
 
 The next night they reached Woodlawn, where they 
 learned that Mabel was buried that day. Of course 
 'Lena could not have been absent from home. Mrs. 
 
320 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 Graham felt convinced of that, and gradually the con- 
 viction came upon her that another than 'Lena was the 
 original of the daguerreotypes. And yet she was not 
 generous enough to tell Durward so. She knew he was 
 deceived — she wished him to remain so — and to effect 
 it, she refrained from seeking an explanation from her 
 husband, fearing lest 'Lena should be proved innocent. 
 Her husband knew there was a misunderstanding be- 
 tween Durward and 'Lena, and if she were to ask him 
 about the pictures, he would, she thought, at once sus- 
 pect the cause of that misunderstanding, and as a 
 matter of course, exonerate 'Lena from all blame. The 
 consequence of this she foresaw, and therefore she re- 
 solved upon keeping her own counsel, satisfied if in the 
 end she prevented Durward from making 'Lena his 
 wife. 
 
 To effect this, she endeavored, during the winter, to 
 keep the matter almost constantly before Durward's 
 mind, frequently referring to 'Lena's agitation when 
 she first learned that Mr. Graham had started for Eur- 
 ope. She had called with her son at Maple Grove on 
 the very day of her husband's departure. 'Lena had 
 not met the lady before, since that night in Frankfort, 
 and now, with the utmost hauteur, she returned her 
 nod, and then, too proud to leave the room, resumed 
 her seat near the window, directly opposite the divan 
 on which Durward was seated with Carrie. 
 
 She did not know before of Mrs. Graham's return, 
 and when her aunt casually asked, "Did your husband 
 come back with you?" she involuntarily held her breath 
 for the answer, which, when it came, sent the blood in 
 torrents to her face and neck, while her eyes sparkled 
 with joy. She should see him — he would explain every- 
 thing — and she should be guiltless in Durward's sight. 
 This was the cause of her joy, which was quickly turned 
 
"LENA RIVERS. 321 
 
 into sorrow by Mrs- Graham's adding, "But he started 
 this morning for Europe, where he will remain three 
 months, and perhaps longer, just according to his busi- 
 ness. " 
 
 The bright flush died away, and was succeeded by 
 paleness, which did not escape the observation of either 
 mother or son, the latter of whom had watched her 
 from the first, noting each change, and interpreting it 
 according to his fears. 
 
 " 'Lena, 'Lena, how have I been deceived!" was his 
 mental cry as she precipitately left the room, saying to 
 her aunt, who asked what was the matter, that she was 
 faint and dizzy. Death had been but yesterday within 
 their walls, and as if softened by its presence, Mrs. 
 Livingstone actually spoke kindly of her niece, saying y 
 that "constant watching with poor, dear Mabel had im- 
 paired her health. " 
 
 "Perhaps there are other causes which may affect 
 her," returned Mrs. Graham, with a meaning look, 
 which, though lost on Mrs. Livingstone, was noticed by 
 Durward, who soon proposed leaving. 
 
 On their way home, his mother asked if he observed 
 'Lena when Mr. Graham was mentioned. 
 
 "Without saying that he did, Durward replied, "I 
 noticed your remark to Mrs. Livingstone, and was 
 sorry for it, for I do not wish you to say a word which 
 will throw the least shade of suspicion upon 'Lena. 
 Her reputation as yet is good, and you must not be the 
 first to say aught against it." 
 
 "I won't, I won't," answered Mrs. Graham, anxious 
 to conciliate her son, but she found it a harder matter 
 to refrain than she had first supposed. 
 
 'Lena was to her a constant eye-sore, and nothing but 
 the presence of Durward prevented her from occasion- 
 ally giving vent in public to expressions which would 
 
322 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 have operated unfavorably against the young girl, and 
 when at last circumstances occurred which gave her, 
 as she thought, liberty to free her mind, she was only 
 too willing to do so. Of those circumstances, in which 
 others besides 'Lena were concerned, we will s^es^k hi 
 another chapter. 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 323 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 ANNA AND CAPTAIN ATHERTQN. 
 
 Malcolm Everett's engagement with General 
 Fontaine had expired, and as was his original intention, 
 he started for New York, first seeking an interview 
 with Mr. and Mrs. Livingstone, of whom he asked their 
 daughter Anna in marriage, at the same time announc- 
 ing the startling fact that they had been engaged for 
 more than a year. "I do not ask you for her now," 
 said he, "for I am not in a situation to support her as I 
 would wish to, hut that time will come erelong, I trust, 
 and I can assure you that her happiness shall be the first 
 object of my life. " 
 
 There was no cringing on the part of Malcolm Ever- 
 ett. He was unused to that, and as an equal meets an 
 equal, he met them, made known his request, and then 
 in silence awaited their answer. Had Mrs. Livingstone 
 been less indignant, there would undoubtedly have 
 ensued a clamorous call for hartshorn and vinagrette, 
 but as it was, she started up, and confronting the young 
 man, she exclaimed, "How dare you ask such a thing? 
 My daughter marry your 
 
 "And why not, madam?" he answered, coolly, while 
 Mrs. Livingstone continued: 
 
 "You, a low-born Yankee, who have been, as it 
 were, an hireling. You presume to ask for my 
 daughter!" 
 
 "I do," he answered calmly, with a quiet smile, ten- 
 
824 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 fold more tantalizing than harsh words would have 
 been, "I do. Can I have her with your consent?" 
 y "Never, so long as I live. I'd sooner see her dead 
 than wedded to vulgar poverty. " 
 
 "That is your answer. Yery well," said Malcolm, 
 bowing stiffly. "And now I will hear yours," turning 
 to Mr. Livingstone, who replied that "he would leave 
 the matter entirely with his wife — it was nothing to 
 him — he had nothing personal against Mr. Everett — he 
 rather liked him than otherwise, but he hardly thought 
 Anna suited to him, she had been brought up so differ- 
 ently ;" and thus evasively answering he walked away. 
 
 "Cowardly fool!" muttered Mrs. Livingstone, as the 
 door closed upon him. "If I pretended to be a man, 
 I'd be one;" then turning to Malcolm, she said, "Is 
 there anything further you wish to say?" 
 
 "Nothing," he replied. "I have honorably asked 
 you for your daughter. You have refused her, and 
 must abide the consequence. " 
 
 "And pray what may that be?" she asked, and he 
 answered : 
 
 "She will soon be of an age &> act for herself, and 
 though I would far rather take her with your consent, I 
 shall not then hesitate to take her without, if you still 
 persist in opposing her. " 
 
 "There is the door," said Mrs. Livingstone rising. 
 
 "I see it, madam," answered Malcolm, without 
 deigning to move. 
 
 "Oblige me by passing out," continued Mrs. Living- 
 stone. "Insolent creature, to stand here threatening 
 to elope with my daughter, who has been destined for 
 another since her infancy." 
 
 "But she shall never become the bride of that old 
 man," answered Macolm. "I know your schemes. 
 I've seen them all along, and I will frustrate them, 
 too." 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 325 
 
 "You cannot," fiercely answered Mrs. Livingstone. 
 "It shall be ere another year comes round, and when 
 you hear that it is so, know that you hastened it for- 
 ward;" and the indignant lady, finding that her oppo- 
 nent was not inclined to move, left the room herself, 
 going in quest of Anna, whom she determined to watch 
 for fear of what might happen. 
 
 But Anna was nowhere to be found, and in a paroxysm 
 of rage she alarmed the household, instituting a strict 
 search, which resulted in the discovery of Anna beneath 
 the same sycamore where Malcolm had first breathed 
 his vows, and whither she had repaired to await the de- 
 cision of her parents. 
 
 "I expected as much," said she, when told of the re- 
 sult, "but it matters not. I am yours, and I'll never 
 marry another." 
 
 The approach of the servants prevented any further 
 conversation, and with a hurried adieu they parted. 
 A few days afterward, as Mrs. Livingstone sat in her 
 large, easy chair before the glowing grate, Captain 
 Atherton was announced, and shown at once into her 
 room. To do Mrs. Livingstone justice, we must say 
 that she had long debated the propriety of giving Anna, 
 in all the freshness of her girlhood, to a man old as her 
 father, but any hesitancy she had heretofore felt, had 
 now vanished. The crisis had come, and when the 
 captain, as he had two or three times before done, 
 broached the subject, urging her to a decision, she re- 
 plied that she was willing, provided Anna's consent 
 could be gained. 
 
 "Pho! that's easy enough," said the captain, com- 
 placently rubbing together his fat hands and smoothing 
 his colored whiskers — "bring her in here, and I'll coax 
 her in five minutes. " 
 
 Anna was sitting with her grandmother and 'Lena. 
 
326 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 when word came that her mother wished to see her,, 
 the servant adding, with a titter, that "Mas'r Arther« 
 ton thar too. " 
 
 Instinctively she knew why she was sent for, and 
 turning white as marble, she begged her cousin to go 
 with her. But 'Lena refused, soothing the agitated 
 girl, and begging her to be calm. "You've only to be 
 decided," said she, "and it will soon be over. Captain 
 Atherton, I am sure, will not insist when he sees how 
 repugnant to your feelings it is." 
 
 But Anna knew her own weakness — she could never 
 say, in her mother's presence, what she felt — and trem- 
 bling like an aspen, she descended the stairs, meeting 
 in the lower hall her brother, who asked what was the 
 matter. 
 
 "Oh, John, Joji.," she cried, "Captain Atherton is 
 in there with mother, and they have sent for me. 
 "What shall I do?" 
 
 "Be a woman," answered John Jr. "Tell him no 
 in good broad English, and if the old fellow insists, I'll 
 blow his brains out!" 
 
 But the captain did not insist. He was too cunning 
 for that, and when, with a burst of tears, Anna told 
 him she could not be his wife because she loved another, 
 he said, good-humoredly, "Well, well, never mind 
 spoiling those pretty blue eyes. I'm not such an old 
 savage as you think me. So we'll compromise the mat- 
 ter this way. If you really love Malcolm, why, marry 
 him, and on your bridal day I'll make you a present of 
 a nice little place I have in Frankfort ; but if, on the 
 other hand, Malcolm proves untrue, you must promise 
 to have me. Come, that's a fair bargain. What do 
 you say?" 
 
 "Malcolm will never prove untrue," answered Anna. 
 
 "Of course not," returned the captain. "So you are 
 safe in promising." 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 327 
 
 "But what good will it do you?" queried Anna, 
 
 "No good, in particular," said the captain. "It's 
 only a whim of mine, to which I thought you might 
 perhaps agree, in consideration of my offer. " 
 
 "I do — I will," said Anna, thinking the captain not 
 so bad, after all. 
 
 "There's mischief somewhere, and I advise you to 
 Watch, " said John Jr. , when he learned from Anna the 
 result of the interview. 
 
 But week after week glided by. Mrs. Livingstone's 
 persecutions ceased, and she sometimes herself handed 
 to Anna Malcolm's letters, which came regularly, and 
 when about the first of March Captain Atherton him- 
 self went off to Washington, Anna gave her fears to 
 the wind, and all the day long went singing about the 
 house, unmindful of the snare laid for her unsuspecting 
 footsteps. At length Malcolm's letters suddenly ceased, 
 and though Anna wrote again and again, there came no 
 answer. Old Caesar, who always carried and brought 
 the mail for Maple Grove, was questioned, but he de- 
 clared he "done got none from Mas'r Everett," and 
 suspicion in that quarter was lulled. Unfortunately 
 for Anna, both her father and John Jr. were now 
 away, and she had no counselor save 'Lena, who once, 
 on her own responsibility, wrote to Malcolm, but with 
 a like success, and Anna's heart grew weary with hope 
 deferred. Smilingly Mrs. Livingstone looked on, one 
 moment laughing at Anna for what she termed love- 
 sickness, and the next advising her to be a woman, and 
 marry Captain Atherton. "He was not very old — only 
 forty-three — and it was better to be an old man's darl- 
 ing than a young man's slave !" 
 
 Thus the days wore on, until one evening, just as the 
 family were sitting down to tea they were surprised by 
 a call from the captain, who had returned that after* 
 
328 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 noon, and who with the freedom of an old friend, in> 
 ceremoniously entered the supper room, appropriating 
 to himself the extra plate which Mrs. Livingstone al- 
 ways had upon the table. Simultaneously with him 
 came Csesar who, having been to the post-office, had 
 just returned, bringing besides other things, a paper 
 for Carrie, from her old admirer, Tom LaMn, who 
 lived in Kockf ord, at which place the paper was printed. 
 Several times had Tom remembered Carrie in this way, 
 and now carelessly glancing at the first page, she threw 
 it upon the floor, whence it was taken by Anna who 
 examined it more minutely, glancing, as a matter of 
 course, to the marriage notices. 
 
 Meantime the captain, who was sitting by 'Lena, 
 casually remarked, "Oh, I forgot to tell you that I saw 
 Mr. Everett in Washington. " 
 
 "Mr. Everett— Malcolm Everett?" said 'Lena, quickly. 
 
 "Yes, Malcolm Everett," answered the captain. "He 
 is there spending the honeymoon with his bride !" 
 
 "Lena's exclamation of astonishment was prevented 
 by a shriek from Anna, who had that moment read 
 the announcement of Mr. Everett's marriage, which 
 was the first in the list. It was Malcolm H. Everett — 
 there could be no mistake — and when 'Lena reached 
 her cousin's side, she found that she had fainted. All 
 was now in confusion, in the midst of which the captain 
 took his leave, having first managed to speak a few 
 words in private with Mrs. Livingstone. 
 
 "Fortune favors us," was her reply, as she went back 
 to her daughter, whose long, death-like swoon almost 
 wrung from her the secret. 
 
 But Anna revived, and with the first indication of 
 returning consciousness, the cold, hard woman stifled 
 all her better feelings, and then tried to think she was 
 acting only for the good of her child. For a long time 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 329 
 
 Anna appeared to be in a kind of benumbed torpor, re- 
 questing to be left alone, and shuddering if Mr. Ever- 
 ett's name were mentioned in her presence. It was in 
 vain that 'Lena strove to comfort her, telling her there 
 might be some mistake. Anna refused to listen, angrily 
 bidding 'Lena desist, and saying frequently that she 
 cared but little what became of herself now. A species 
 of recklessness seemed to have taken possession of her, 
 and when her mother one day carelessly remarked that 
 possibly Captain Atherton would claim the fulfillment 
 of her promise, she answered, in the cold, indifferent 
 tone which now marked her manner of speaking, "Let 
 him. I am ready and willing for the sacrifice. " 
 
 "Are you in earnest?" asked Mrs. Livingstone, 
 eagerly. 
 
 "In earnest? Yes — try me and see," was Anna's 
 brief answer, which somewhat puzzled her mother, who 
 would in reality have preferred opposition to this un- 
 natural passiveness. 
 
 But anything to gain her purpose, she thought, and 
 drawing Anna closely to her side, she very gently and 
 affectionately told her how happy it would make her 
 could she see her the wife of Captain Atherton, who 
 had loved and waited for her so long, and who would 
 leave no wish, however slight, ungratified. And Anna, 
 with no shadow of emotion on her calm, white face, 
 .consented to all that her mother asked, and when next 
 the captain came, she laid her feverish hand in his, and 
 with a strange, wild light beaming from her dark blue 
 eyes, promised to share his fortunes as his wife. 
 
 " 'Twill be winter and spring, "said she, with a bitter, 
 mocking laugh, " 'Twill be winter and spring, but it 
 matters not. " 
 
 Many years before, when a boy of eighteen, Captain 
 Atherton had loved, or fancied he loved, a young girl, 
 
330 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 whose very name afterward became hateful to him, and 
 now, as he thought of Anna's affection for Malcolm, he 
 likened it to his own boyish fancy, believing she would 
 goon get over it, and thank him for what he had done. 
 
 That night Anna saw the moon and stars go down, 
 bending far out from her window, that the damp air 
 might cool her burning brow, and when the morning 
 sun came up the eastern horizon, its first beams fell on 
 the golden curls which streamed across the window sill, 
 her only pillow the livelong night. On 'Lena's mind a 
 terrible conviction was fastening itself — Anna was 
 crazed. She saw it in the wildness of her eye, in the 
 tones of her voice, and more than all, in the readiness 
 with which she yielded herself to her mother's schemes. 
 "But it shall not be," she thought; "I will save her," 
 and then she knelt before her aunt, imploring her to 
 spare her daughter — not to sacrifice her on the altar of 
 mammon. 
 
 But Mrs. Livingstone turned angrily away, telling 
 her to mind her own affairs. Then 'Lena sought hei 
 cousin, and winding her arms around her neck, be- 
 sought of her to resist — to burst the chain which bound 
 her, and be free. But with a shake of her head, Anna 
 bade her go away. "Leave me, 'Lena Rivers," she 
 said, "leave me to work out my destiny. It is decreed 
 that I shall be his wife, and I may not struggle against 
 it. Each night I read it in the stars, and the wind, as 
 it sighs through the maple trees, whispers it to my 
 ear. " 
 
 "Oh, if my aunfc could see her now," thought 'Lena; 
 but as if her mother's presence had a paralyzing power, 
 Anna, when with her, was quiet, gentle, and silent, and 
 if Mrs. Livingstone sometimes missed her merry laugh 
 and playful ways, she thought the air of dignity which 
 seemed to have taken their place quite an improvement^ 
 
OENA RIVERS, 331 
 
 and far more m keeping with the bride-elect of Captain 
 Atherton. 
 
 About this time Mr. Livingstone returned, appearing 
 greatly surprised at the phase which affairs had as- 
 sumed in his absence, but when 'Lena whispered to him 
 her fears he smilingly answered, "I reckon you're mis- 
 taken. Her mother would have found it out — -where 
 is she?" 
 
 In her chamber at the old place by the open window 
 they found her, and though she did not as usual spring 
 eagerly forward to meet her father, her greeting was 
 wholly natural ; but when Mr. Livingstone taking her 
 upon his knee said gently, "They tell me you are to be 
 married soon, " the wildness came back to her eye, and 
 'Lena wondered he could not see it. But he did not, 
 and smoothing her disordered tresses, he said, "Tell me, 
 my daughter, does this marriage please you? Do you 
 enter into it willingly?" 
 
 For a moment there was a wavering, and 'Lena held 
 her breath to catch the answer, which came at last, 
 while the eyes shone brighter than ever — "Willing? 
 yes, or 1 should not do it; no one compels me, else I 
 would resistc" 
 
 "Woman's nature," said Mr. Livingstonn, laugh- 
 ingly, while 'Lena turned away to hide her tears. 
 
 Day after day preparations went on, for Mrs. Living- 
 stone would have the ceremony a grand and imposing 
 one. In the neighborhood, the fast approaching event 
 was discussed, some pronouncing it a most fortunate 
 thing for Anna ? who could not, of course, expect to 
 make so eligible a match as her more brilliant sister, 
 while others—the sensible portion — wondered, pitied, 
 and blamed, attributing the whole to the ambitious 
 mother, whose agency in her son's marriage was now 
 generally known. At Maple Grove closets, chairs, and 
 
832 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 sofas were loaded down with finery, and like an autom- 
 aton, Anna stood up while they fitted to her the rich 
 white satin, scarcely whiter than her own face, and 
 Mrs. Livingstone, when she saw her daughter's indiffer- 
 ence, would pinch her bloodless cheeks, wondering how 
 she could care so little for her good fortune. 
 
 Unnatural mother! — from the little grave on the 
 sunny slope, now grass-grown and green, came there 
 no warning voice to stay her in her purpose? No ; she 
 scarcely thought of Mabel now, and with unflinching 
 determination she kept on her way. 
 
 But there was one who, night and day pondered in 
 her mind the best way of saving Anna from the living 
 death to which she would surely awake, when it was 
 too late. At last she resolved on going herself to Cap- 
 tain Atherton, telling him just how it was, and if there 
 was a spark of generosity in his nature, she thought he 
 would release her cousin. But this plan required much 
 caution, for she would not have her uncle's family know 
 of it, and if she failed, she preferred that it should be 
 kept a secret from the world. There was then no alter- 
 native but to go in the night, and alone. She did not 
 now often sit with the family, and she knew they would 
 not miss her. So, one evening when they were as usual 
 assembled in the parlor, she stole softly from the house, 
 and managing to pass the negro quarters unobserved 
 she went down to the lower stable, where she saddled 
 the pony she was now accustomed to ride, and lead- 
 ing him toy a circuitous path out upon the turnpike, 
 mounted and rode away. 
 
 The night was moonless, and the starlight obscured 
 by heavy clouds, but the pale face and golden curls of 
 Anna, for whose sake she was there alone, gleamed on 
 her in the darkness, and 'Lena was not afraid. Once— 
 twice — she thoughtlshe caught the sound of another 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 333 
 
 horse's hoofs, but when she stopped to listen, all was still, 
 and again she pressed forward, while her pursuer (for 
 'Lena was followed) kept at a greater distance. Dur- 
 ward had been to Frankfort, and on his way home had 
 stopped at Maple Grove to deliver a package. Stopping 
 only a moment he reached the turnpike just after 'Lena 
 struck into it. Thinking it was a servant, he was about 
 to pass her, when her horse sheered at something on the 
 roadside, and involuntarily she exclaimed: "Courage, 
 Dido, there's nothing to fear. " 
 
 Instantly he recognized her voice, and was about to 
 overtake and speak to her, but thinking that her mission 
 was a secret one, or she would not be there alone, he 
 desisted. Still he could not leave her thus. Her safety 
 might be endangered, and reining in his steed, and 
 accommodating his pace to hers, he followed without 
 her knowledge. On she went until she reached the 
 avenue leading to "Sunnyside," as Captain Atherton 
 termed his residence, and there she stopped, going on 
 foot to the house, while, hidden by the deep darkness, 
 Durward waited and watched. 
 
 Half timidly 'Lena rang the door-bell, dropping her 
 veil over her face that she might not be recognized. 
 
 "I want to see your master," she said to the woman 
 who answered her ring, and who in some astonishment 
 replied : 
 
 "Bless you, miss, Mas'r Atherton done gone to Lex- 
 ington and won't be home till to-morry, " 
 
 "Gone!" repeated 'Lena in a disappointed tone, 
 *'Oh, I'm so sorry." 
 
 "Is you the new miss what's comin' here to live?" 
 asked the negro, who was Captain Atherton's house- 
 keeper. 
 
 Instantly the awkwardness of her position flashed 
 upon 'Lena, but resolving to put a bold face on the 
 
834 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 matter, she removed her veil, saying playfully, "You 
 know me now, Aunt Martha. " 
 
 "In course I do," answered the negro, holding up 
 both hands in amazement, "but what sent you here this 
 dark, unairthly night?" 
 
 "Business with your master," and then suddenly re- 
 membering that among her own race Aunt Martha was 
 accounted an intolerable gossip, she began to wish she 
 had not come. 
 
 But it could not now be helped, and turning away 
 she walked slowly down the avenue wondering what 
 the result would be. Again they were in motion, she 
 and Durward, who followed until he saw her safe home, 
 and then, glad that no one had seen her but himself, he 
 retraced his steps, pondering on the mystery which he 
 could not fathom. After 'Lena left Sunnyside, a misty 
 rain came on, and by the time she reached her home, 
 her long riding-dress was wet and drizzled, the feathers 
 on her cap were drooping, and to crown all, as she was 
 crossing the hall with stealthy step, she came suddenly 
 upon her aunt, who, surprised at her appearance, de- 
 manded of her where she had been. But 'Lena refused 
 to tell, and in quite a passion Mrs. Livingstone laid the 
 ?5ase before her husband. 
 
 '"Lena had been off that dark, rainy night, ridirjg 
 somewhere with somebody, she wouldn't tell who, but 
 she (Mrs. Livingstone) most knew it was Durward, and 
 something must be done. " 
 
 Accordingly, next day, when they chanced to be 
 alone, Mr. Livingstone took the opportunity of ques- 
 tioning 'Lena, who dared not disobey him, and with 
 many tears she confessed the whole, saying that "if it 
 were wrong she was very sorry. " 
 
 "You acted foolishly, to say the least of it," answered 
 her uncle, adding, dryly, that he thought she troubled 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 335 
 
 herself altogether too much about Anna, who seemed 
 happy and contented. 
 
 Still he was ill at ease. 'Lena's fears disturbed him, 
 and for many days he watched his daughter narrowly, 
 admitting to himself that there was something strange 
 about her c But possibly all engaged girls acted so ; his 
 wife said they did ; and hating anything like a scene, 
 he concluded to let matters take their course, half -hop- 
 ing, and half -believing, too, that something would occur 
 to prevent the marriage. What it would be, or by 
 what agency it would be brought about, he didn't know, 
 but he resolved to let 'Lena alone, and when his wife 
 insisted upon his "lecturing her soundly for meddling," 
 he refused, venturing even to say, that "she hadn't 
 meddled. " 
 
 Meantime a new idea had entered 'Lena's mind. She 
 would, write to Mr. Everett. There might yet be some 
 mistake ; she had read of such things in stories, and it 
 could do no harm. Gradually as she wrote, hope grew 
 strong within her, and it became impressed upon her 
 that there had been some deep-laid, fiendish plot. If 
 so, she dared not trust her letter with old Caesar, who 
 might be bribed by his mistress. And how to convey it 
 to the office was now the grand difficulty. As if for- 
 tune favored her plan, Durward, that very afternoon, 
 called at Maple Grove, being, as he said, on his way to 
 Frankfort. 
 
 'Lena would have died rather than ask a favor of him 
 for herself, but to save Anna she could do almost any- 
 thing. Hastily securing the letter, and throwing on her 
 sun-bonnet, she sauntered down the lawn and out upon 
 the turnpike, where by the gate she awaited his coming. 
 
 "Lena — excuse me — Miss Rivers, is it you?" asked 
 Durward, touching his hat ; as in evident confusion sha 
 came forward, asking if she could trust him. 
 
336 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 "Trust me? Yes, with anything," answered Dur- 
 ward, quickly dismounting, and forgetting everything 
 save the bright, beautiful face which looked up to him 
 so eagerly. 
 
 "Then," answered 'Lena, "take this letter and see it 
 deposited safely, will you?" 
 
 Glancing at the superscription, Durward felt his face 
 crimson, while he instantly remembered what Mrs. 
 Livingstone had once said concerning 'Lena's attach* 
 ment to Mr. Everett. 
 
 "Sometime, perhaps, I will explain," said Lena, ob- 
 serving the expression of his countenance, and then 
 adding, with some bitterness, "I assure you there is no 
 harm in it." 
 
 "Of course not," answered Durward, again mounting 
 his horse, and riding away more puzzled than ever, 
 while 'Lena returned to the house, which everywhere 
 gave tokens of the approaching nuptials. 
 
 Already had several costly bridal gifts arrived, and 
 among them was a box from the captain, containing a 
 set of diamonds, which Mrs. Livingstone placed in her 
 daughter's waving hair, bidding her mark their effect. 
 But not a muscle of Anna's face changed; nothing 
 moved her ; and with the utmost indifference she gazed 
 on the preparations around her. A stranger would have 
 said 'Lena was the bride, for with flushed cheeks and 
 nervously anxious manner, she watched each sun as it 
 rose and set, wondering what the result would be. 
 Once, when asked whom she would have for her brides- 
 maid and groomsman, Anna had answered, "Nellie and 
 John !" but that could not be, for the latter had imposed 
 upon himself the penance of waiting a whole year ere 
 he spoke to Nellie of that which lay nearest his heart, 
 and in order the better to keep his vow, he had gone 
 from home, first winning from her the promise that she 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 337 
 
 would not become engaged until his return. And now, 
 when he learned of his sister's request, he refused to 
 come, saying, "if she would make such a consummate 
 fool of herself, he did not wish to see her." 
 
 So Carrie and Durward were substituted, and as this 
 arrangement brought the latter occasionally to the 
 house, 'Lena had opportunities of asking him if there 
 had yet come any answer to her letter; and much 
 oftener than he would otherwise have done, Durward 
 went down to Frankfort, for he felt that it was no un- 
 important matter which thus deeply interested 'Lena. 
 At last, the day before the bridal came, Durward had 
 gone to the city, and in a state of great excitement 
 'Lena awaited his return, watching with a trembling 
 heart as the sun went down behind the western hills. 
 Slowly the hours dragged on, and many a time she 
 stole out in the deep darkness to listen, but there was 
 nothing to be heard save the distant cry of the night- 
 owl, and she was about retracing her steps for the fifth 
 time, when from behind a clump of rose-bushes started 
 a little dusky form, which whispered softly, "Is you 
 Miss'Leny?" 
 
 Repressing the scream which came near escaping her 
 lips, 'Lena answered, "Yes; what do you want?" while 
 at the same moment she recognized a little hunchback 
 belonging to General Fontaine. 
 
 "Marster Everett tell me to fotch you this, and wait 
 for the answer," said the boy, passing her a tiny note. 
 
 "Master Everett! Is he there?" she exclaimed, catch- 
 ing the note and re-entering the house, where by the 
 light of the hall lamp she read what he had written. 
 
 It was very short, but it told all — how he had written 
 again and again, receiving no answer, and was about 
 coming himself when a severe illness prevented. The 
 marriage, he said, was that of his uncle, for whom he 
 
338 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 was named, and who had in truth gone on to Washing- 
 ton, the home of his second wife. It closed by asking 
 her to meet him, with Anna, on one of the arbor bridges 
 at midnight. Hastily tearing a blank leaf from a book 
 which chanced to be lying in the hall, 'Lena wrote, 
 "We will be there," and giving it to the negro, bade 
 him hasten back. 
 
 There was no longer need to wait for Durward, who, 
 if he got no letter, was not to call, and trembling in 
 every nerve, 'Lena sought her chamber, there to con- 
 sider what she was next to do. For some time past 
 Carrie had occupied a separate room from Anna, who, 
 she said, disturbed her with her late hours and restless 
 turnings, so 'Lena's part seemed comparatively easy. 
 Waiting until the house was still, she entered Anna's 
 room, finding her as she had expected, at her old place 
 by the open window, her head resting upon the sill, and 
 when she approached nearer, she saw that she was 
 asleep. 
 
 "Let her sleep yet awhile, 5 ' said she, "it will do her 
 good. " 
 
 In the room adjoining lay the bridal dress, and 
 'Lena's first impulse was to trample it under her feet, 
 but passing it with a shudder, she hastily collected 
 whatever she thought Anna would most need. These 
 she placed in a small- s.rzed trunk, and then knowing it 
 was time, she approached her cousin, who seemed to be 
 dreaming, for she murmured the name of "Malcolm." 
 
 "He is here, love — he has come to save you," she 
 whispered, while Anna, only partially aroused, gazed 
 at her sg vacantly, that 'Lena's heart stood still with 
 fear lest the poor girl's reason were wholly gone. 
 "Anna, Anna," she said, "awake; Malcolm is here — 
 in the garden, where you must meet him — come. " 
 
 "Malcolm is married," said Anna in a whisper 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 339 
 
 "married — and my bridal dress is in there, all looped 
 with flowers ; would you like to see it?" 
 
 "Our Father in heaven help me," cried 'Lena, clasp- 
 ing her hands in anguish, while her tears fell like rain 
 on Anna's upturned face. 
 
 This seemed to arouse her, for in a natural tone she 
 asked why 'Lena wept. Again and again 'Lena re- 
 peated to her that Malcolm had come — that he was not 
 married — that he had come for her; and as Anna lis- 
 tened, the torpor slowly passed away — the wild light in 
 her eyes grew less bright, for it was quenched by the 
 first tears she had shed since the shadow fell upon her • 
 and when 'Lena produced the note, and she saw it was 
 indeed true, the ice about her heart was melted, and in 
 choking, long-drawn sobs, her pent-up feelings gave 
 way, as she saw the gulf whose verge she had been 
 treading. Crouching at 'Lena's feet, she kissed the 
 very hem of her garments, blessing her as her pre- 
 server, and praying Heaven to bless her also. It was 
 the work of a few moments to array her in her travel- 
 ing dress, and then very cautiously 'Lena led her down 
 the stairs, and out into the open air. 
 
 "If I could see father once," said Anna; but such an 
 act involved too much danger, and with one lingering, 
 tearful look at her old home, she moved away, supported 
 by 'Lena, who rather dragged than led her over the 
 graveled walk. 
 
 As they approached the arbor bridge, they saw the 
 glimmering light of a lantern, for the night was in- 
 tensely dark, and in a moment Anna was clasped in the 
 arms which henceforth were to shelter her from the 
 storms of life. Helpless as an infant she lay, while 
 'Lena, motioning the negro who was in attendance to 
 follow her, returned to the house for the trunk, which 
 was soon safely deposited in the carriage at the gate. 
 
340 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 "Words cannot express what I owe you," said Mal- 
 colm, when he gave her his hand at parting; "but of 
 this be assured, so long as I live you have in me a 
 friend and brother." Turning back for a moment, he 
 added, ' This flight is, I know, unnecessary, for I could 
 prevent to-morrow's expected event in other ways than 
 this, but revenge is sweet, and I trust I am excusable 
 for taking it in my own way." 
 
 Anna could not speak, but the look of deep gratitude 
 which beamed from her eyes was far more eloquent 
 than words. Upon the broad piazza 'Lena stood until 
 the last faint sound of the carriage wheels died away; 
 then, weary and worn, she sought her room, locking 
 Anna's door as she passed it, and placing the key in her 
 pocket. Softly she crept to bed by the side of her 
 slumbering grandmother, and with a fervent prayer for 
 the safety of the fugitives, fell asleep. 
 
*LENA RIVERS. 341 
 
 OHAPTER XXX. 
 
 THE RESULT. 
 
 The loud ringing of the breakfast-bell aroused 'Lena 
 from her heavy slumber, and with a vague conscious- 
 ness of what had transpired the night previous, she at 
 first turned wearily upon her pillow, wishing it were 
 not morning; but soon remembering all, she sprang up, 
 and after a hasty toilet, descended to the breakfast- 
 room, where another chair was vacant, another face 
 was missing. Without any suspicion of the truth, Mrs. 
 Livingstone spoke of Anna's absence, saying she pre- 
 sumed the poor girl was tired and sleepy, and this was 
 admitted as an excuse for her tardiness. But when 
 breakfast was over and she still did not appear, Corinda 
 was sent to call her, returning soon with the informa- 
 tion that "she'd knocked and knocked, but Miss Anna 
 would not answer, and when she tried the door she 
 found it locked." 
 
 Involuntarily Mr, Livingstone glanced at 'Lena, 
 whose face wore a scarlet hue as she hastily quitted the 
 table. With a presentiment of something, he himself 
 started for Anna's room, followed by his wife and Car- 
 rie, while 'Lena, half-way up the stairs, listened breath- 
 lessly for the result. It was useless knocking for ad- 
 mittance, for there was no one within to bid them enter, 
 and with a powerful effort Mr. Livingstone burst the 
 lock. The window was open, the lamp was still burn- 
 ing, emitting a faint, sickly odor; the bed was undis- 
 
342 "LENA RIVERS. 
 
 turbed> the room in confusion, and Anna was gone. 
 Mrs. Livingstone's eye took in all this at a glance, but 
 her husband saw only the latter, and ere he was aware 
 of what he did, a fervent "Thank Heaven!" escaped 
 him. 
 
 "She's gone — run away — dead, maybe," exclaimed 
 Mrs. Livingstone, wringing her hands in unfeigned dis- 
 tress, and instinctively drawing nearer to her husband 
 for comfort. 
 
 By this time 'Lena had ventured into the room, and 
 turning toward her, Mr. Livingstone said, very gently, 
 "'Lena, where is our child?" 
 
 "In Ohio, I dare say, by this time, as she took the 
 night train at' Midway for Cincinnati," said 'Lena, 
 thinking she might as well tell the whole at once. 
 
 "In Ohio!" shrieked Mrs. Livingstone, fiercely grasp- 
 ing 'Lena's arm. "What has she gone to Ohio for? 
 Speak, ingrate, for you have done the deed — I am sure 
 of that!" 
 
 "It was Mr. Everett's wish to return home that way, 
 I believe, " coolly answered 'Lena, without quailing in 
 the least from the eyes bent so angrily upon her. 
 
 Instantly Mrs. Livingstone's fingers loosened their 
 grasp, while her face grew livid with mingled passion 
 and fear. Her fraud was discovered — her stratagem 
 had failed — and she was foiled in this, her second darl- 
 ing scheme. But she was yet to learn what agency 
 'Lena had in the matter, and this information her hus- 
 band obtained for her. There was no anger in the tones 
 of his voice when he asked his niece to explain the mys- 
 tery, else she might not have answered, for 'Lena could 
 not be driven. Now, however, she felt that he had a 
 right to know, and she told him all she knew ; what she 
 had done herself and why she had done it ; that General 
 Fontaine, to whom Malcolm had gone in his trouble, 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 343 
 
 had kindly assisted him by lending both servants and 
 carriage; but upon the intercepted letters she could 
 throw no light. 
 
 " 'Twas a cursed act, and whoever was guilty of it is 
 unworthy the name of either man or woman," said Mr, 
 Livingstone, while his eye rested sternly upon his wife. 
 
 She knew that he suspected her, but he had no proof, 
 and resolving to make the best of the matter, she, too, 
 united with him in denouncing the deed, wondering 
 who could have done it, and meanly suggesting Maria 
 Fontaine, a pupil of Mr. Everett's, who had, at one 
 time, felt a slight preference for him. But this did not 
 deceive her husband — neither did it help her at all in 
 the present emergency. The bride was gone, and al- 
 ready she felt the tide of scandal and gossip which she 
 knew would be the theme of the entire neighborhood. 
 Still, if her own shameful act was kept a secret, she 
 could bear it, and it must be. No one knew of it except 
 Captain Atherton and Ceesar, the former of whom 
 would keep his own counsel, while fear of a passport 
 down the river, the negroes' dread, would prevent the 
 latter from telling. 
 
 Accordingly, her chagrin was concealed, and affect- 
 ing to treat the whole matter as a capital joke, worthy 
 of being immortalized in romance, she returned to her 
 room, and hastily writing a few lines, rang the bell for 
 Csesar, who soon appeared, declaring that "as true as 
 he lived and breathed and drew the breath of life, he'd 
 done gin miss every single letter afore handin' 'em to 
 anybody else. " 
 
 "Shut your mouth and mind you keep it shut, or 
 you'll find yourself in New Orleans," was Mrs. Living- 
 stone's very lady-like response, as she handed him the 
 note, bidding him take it to Captain Atherton. 
 
 For some reason or other the captain this morning 
 
344 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 was exceedingly restless, walking from room to room, 
 watching the clock, then the sun, and finally, in order to 
 pass the time away, trying on his wedding suit, to see 
 how he was going to iook ! Perfectly satisfied with his 
 appearance, he was in imagination going through the 
 ceremony, and had just inclined his head in token that 
 he would take Anna for his wife, when Mrs. Living- 
 stone's note was handed him. At first he could hardly 
 believe the evidence of his own eyes. Anna gone ! — 
 run away with Mr. Everett ! It could not be, and sink- 
 ing into a chair, he felt, as he afterward expressed it, 
 "mighty queer and shaky." 
 
 But Mrs. Livingstone had advised him to put a bold 
 face on it, and this, upon second thought, he determined 
 to do. Hastily changing his dress, now useless, he 
 mounted his steed, and was soon on his way toward 
 Maple Grove, a new idea dawning upon his mind, and 
 ere his arrival, settling itself into a fixed purpose. 
 From Aunt Martha he had heard of 'Lena's strange 
 visit, and he now remembered the many times she had 
 tried to withdraw him from Anna, appropriating him 
 to herself for hours. The captain's vanity was wonder- 
 ful. Sunnyside needed a mistress — he needed a wife. 
 'Lena was poor — perhaps she liked him — and if so, there 
 might be a wedding, after all. She was beautiful, and 
 would sustain the honors of his house with a better 
 grace, he verily believed, than Anna! Full of these 
 thoughts, he reached Maple Grove, where he found 
 Durward, to whom Mrs. Livingstone had detailed the 
 whole circumstance, dwelling long upon 'Lena's med- 
 dling propensities, and charging the whole affair upon 
 her. 
 
 "But she knew what she was about — she had an ob- 
 ject in view, undoubtedly," she added, glad of an oppor- 
 tunity to give vent to her feelings against 'Lena. 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 345 
 
 "Pray, what was her object?" asked Durward, and 
 Mrs. Livingstone replied, "I told you once that 'Lena 
 was ambitious, and I have every reason to believe she 
 would willingly marry Captain Atherton, notwithstand- 
 ing he is so much older." 
 
 She forgot that there was the same disparity between 
 the captain and Anna as between him and 'Lena, but 
 Durward did not, and with derisive smile he listened, 
 while she proceeded to give her reasons for thinking 
 that a desire to supplant Anna was the sole object 
 which 'Lena had in view, for what else could have 
 prompted that midnight ride to Sunnyside. Again 
 Durward smiled, but before he could answer, the bride- 
 groom elect stood before them, looking rather crest- 
 fallen, but evidently making a great effort to appear as 
 usual. 
 
 "And so the bird has flown?" said he. "Well, it 
 takes a Yankee, after all, to manage a case, but how 
 did he find it out?" 
 
 Briefly Mrs. Livingstone explained to him 'Lena's 
 agency in the matter, omitting, this time, to impute to 
 her the same motive which she had done when stating 
 the case to Durward. 
 
 "So 'Lena is at the bottom of it?" said he, rubbing his 
 little, fat, red hands. "Well, well, where is she? I'd 
 like to see her. " 
 
 "Corinda, tell 'Lena she is wanted in the parlor," said 
 Mrs. Livingstone, while Durward, not wishing to wit- 
 ness the interview, arose to go, but Mrs. Livingstone 
 urged him so hard to stay, that he at last resumed his 
 seat on the sofa by the side of Carrie. 
 
 "Captain Atherton wishes to question you concerning 
 the part you have taken in this elopement," said Mrs. 
 Livingstone, sternly, as 'Lena appeared in the doorway. 
 
 "No I don't," said the captain, gallantly offering 
 
346 -LENA RIVERS. 
 
 'Lena a chair. "My business with Miss Rivers con- 
 cerns herself. " 
 
 "I am here, sir, to answer any proper question," said 
 'Lena proudly, at the same time declining the proffered 
 seat. 
 
 "There's an air worthy of a queen," thought the cap- 
 tain, and determining to make his business known at 
 once, he arose, and turning toward Mrs. Livingstone, 
 Durward, and Carrie, whom he considered his audience, 
 he commenced. "What I am about to say may seem 
 strange, but the fact is, I want a wife. I've lived alone 
 long enough. I waited for Anna eighteen years, and 
 now she's gone. Everything is in readiness for the 
 bridal ; the guests are invited ; nothing wanting but the 
 bride. Now if I could find a substitute." 
 
 "Not in me," muttered Carrie, drawing nearer to 
 Durward, while with a sarcastic leer the captain con- 
 tinued : 
 
 "Don't refuse before you are asked, Miss Livingstone. 
 I do not aspire to the honor of your hand, but I do ask 
 Miss River3 to be my wife — here before you all. She 
 shall live like a princess — she and her grandmother 
 both. Come, what do you say ? Many a poor girl 
 would jump at the chance. " 
 
 The rich blood which usually dyed 'Lena's cheek was 
 gone, and pale as the marble mantel against which she 
 leaned, she answered, proudly, "I would sooner die 
 than link my destiny with one m ho could so basely de- 
 ceive my cousin, making her Delieve it was her be- 
 trothed husband whom he saw in Washington instead 
 of his uncle! Marry you? Never, if I beg my bread 
 from door to door!" 
 
 "Noble girl!" come involuntarily from the lips of 
 Durward, who had held his breath for her answer, and 
 who now glanced triumphantly at Mrs. Livingstone, 
 whose surmises were thus proved incorra 
 
'LENA RTVERS. 347 
 
 The captain's self-pride was touched, that a poor, 
 humble girl should refuse him with his half million. A 
 sense of the ridiculous position in which he was placed 
 maddened him, and in a violent rage he replied, "You 
 won't, hey? What under heavens have you hung round 
 me so for, sticking yourself in between me and Anna 
 when you knew you were not wanted?" 
 
 "I did it, sir, at Anna's request, to relieve her — and 
 for nothing else. " 
 
 "And was it at her request that you went alone to 
 Sunnyside on that dark, rainy night?" chimed in Mrs. 
 Livingstone. 
 
 "No, madam," said 'Lena turning toward her aunt. 
 "I had in vain implored of you to save her from a mar- 
 riage every way irksome to her, when in her right 
 mind, but you would not listen, and I resolved to appeal 
 to the captain's better nature. In this I failed, and 
 then I wrote to Mr. Everett, with the result which you 
 see." 
 
 In her first excitement Mrs. Livingstone had forgot- 
 ten to ask who was the bearer of 'Lena's letter, but re- 
 membering it now, she put the question. 'Lena would 
 not implicate Durward without his permission, but 
 while she hesitated, he answered for her, "J carried 
 that letter, Mrs. Livingstone, though I did not then 
 know its nature. Still, if I had, I should have done 
 the same, and the event has proved that I was right in 
 so doing." 
 
 "Ah, indeed!" said the captain, growing more and 
 more nettled and disagreeable. "Ah, indeed! Mr. Bell- 
 mont leagued with Miss Rivers against me. Perhaps 
 she would not so bluntly refuse an offer coming from 
 you, but I can tell you it won't sound very well that the 
 Hon. Mrs. Bellmont once rode four miles alone in the 
 night to visit a bachelor. Ha! ha! Miss -Lena; better 
 
348 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 have submitted to my terms at once, for don't your see I 
 have you in my power?" 
 
 "And if you ever use that power to her disadvantage, 
 you answer for it tome, do you understand?" exclaimed 
 Durward, starting up and confronting Captain Ather- 
 ton, who, the veriest coward in the world, shrank from 
 the flashing of Durward's eye, and meekly answered : 
 
 "Yes, yes — yes, yes, I won't, I won't. I don't want 
 to fight. I like 'Lena. I don't blame Anna for run- 
 ning away if she didn't want me — but its left me in a 
 deuced mean scrape, which I wish you'd help me out 
 of." 
 
 Durward saw that the captain was in earnest, and 
 taking his proffered hand, promised to render him any 
 assistance in his power, and advising him to be present 
 himself in the evening, as the first meeting with hie 
 acquaintances would thus be over. Upon reflection, 
 the captain concluded to follow this advice, and when 
 evening arrived, and with it those who had not heard 
 the news, he was in attendance, together with Durward, 
 who managed the whole affair so skillfully that the 
 party passed off quite pleasantly, the disappointed 
 guests playfully condoling with the deserted bride- 
 groom, who received their jokes with a good grace, 
 wishing himself, meantime, anywhere but there. 
 
 That night, when the company were gone and all 
 around was silent, Mrs. Livingstone watered her pillow 
 with the first tears she had shed for her youngest born, 
 whom she well knew she had driven from home, and 
 when her husband asked what they should do, she an- 
 swered with a fresh burst of tears, "Send for Anna to 
 come back. " 
 
 "And Malcolm, toe?" queried Mr. Livingstone, know- 
 ing it was useless to send for one without the other. 
 
 "Yes, Malcolm, too. There's room for both," said 
 
*LENA RIVERS. 349 
 
 the weeping mother, feeling how every hour she should 
 miss the little girl, whose presence had in it so much of 
 sunlight and joy. 
 
 But Anna would not return. Away to the north- 
 ward, in a fairy cottage overhung with the wreathing 
 honeysuckle and the twining grape-vine, where the first 
 summer flowers were blooming and the song-birds were 
 carolling all the day long, her home was henceforth to 
 be, and though the letter which contained her answer to 
 her father's earnest appeal was stained and blotted, it 
 told of perfect happiness with Malcolm, who kissed 
 away her tears >Is she wrote, "Tell mother I cannot 
 com©." 
 
350 *LENA RIVERS. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 MORE CLOUDS. 
 
 Since the morning when Durward had so boldly 
 avowed himself 'Lena's champion, her health and spirits 
 began to improve. That she was not wholly indifferent 
 to him she had every reason to believe, and notwith- 
 standing the strong barrier between them, hope some- 
 times whispered to her of a future, when all that was 
 now so dark and mysterious should be made plain. 
 But while she was thus securely dreaming a cloud, 
 darker and deeper than any which had yet overshad- 
 owed her, was gathering around her pathway. Gradu- 
 ally had the story of her ride to Captain Atherton's 
 gained circulation, magnifying itself as it went, until at 
 last it was currently reported that at several different 
 times had she been seen riding away from Sunnyside at 
 unseasonable hours of the night, the time varying from 
 nine in the evening to three in the morning, according 
 to the exaggerating powers of the informer. 
 
 But few believed it, and yet such is human nature, 
 that each and every one repeated to his or her neighbor, 
 until at last it reached Mrs. Graham, who, forgetting 
 the caution of her son, said, with a very wise look, that 
 she was not at all surprised — she had from the first 
 suspected 'Lena, and she had the best of reasons for so 
 doing!" 
 
 Of course Mrs. Graham's friend was exceedingly 
 anxious to know what she meant, and by dint of quiz- 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 351 
 
 ring, questioning, and promising never to tell, she at 
 last drew out just enough of the story to know that Mr. 
 Graham had a daguerreotype which looked just like 
 'Lena, and that Mrs. Graham had no doubt whatever 
 that she was in the habit of writing to him. This was 
 of course repeated, notwithstanding the promise of 
 secrecy, and then many of the neighbors suddenly re- 
 membered some little circumstance, trivial in itself, but 
 all going to swell the amount of evidence against poor 
 'Lena, wbc unconscious of the gathering storm, did 
 not for a time observe the sidelong glances cast toward 
 her whenever she appeared in public. 
 
 Erelong, he i^ever, the cool nods and distant manners 
 of her acquaintances began to attract her attention, 
 causing her to wonder what it meant. But there was 
 no one of whom she would ask an explanation. John 
 Jr. was gone — Anna was gone — and to crown all, Dur- 
 ward, too, left the neighborhood just as the first breath 
 of scandal was beginning to set the waves of gossip in 
 motion. In his absence, Mrs. Graham felt no restraint 
 whatever, and all that she knew, together with many 
 things that she didn't know, she told, until it became a 
 matter of serious debate whether 'Lena ought not to be 
 cut entirely. Mrs. Graham and her clique decided in 
 the affirmative, and when Mrs. Fontaine, who was a 
 weak woman, wholly governed by public opinion, gave 
 a small party for her daughter Maria, 'Lena was pur- 
 posely omitted. Hitherto she had been greatly petted 
 and admired by both Maria and her mother, and she 
 felt the slight sensibly, the more so, as Carrie darkly 
 hinted that girls who could not behave themselves must 
 not expect to associate with respectable people. 
 
 " 'Leny not invited!" said Mrs. Nichols, espousing 
 the cause of her granddaughter. "What's to pay, I 
 wonder. Miss Fontain' and the gineral, too, alius ap- 
 peared to think a sight on her." 
 
H&% 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 "I presume the general does now," answered Mrs. 
 Livingstone, "but it's natural that Mrs. Fontaine should 
 feel particular about the reputation of her daughter's 
 associates. " 
 
 "And ain't 'Leny's reputation as good as the best on 
 'em?" asked Mrs. Nichols, her shriveled cheeks 
 glowing with insulted pride. 
 
 "It's the general opinion that it might be improved," 
 was Mrs. Livingstone's haughty answer, as she left her 
 mother-in-law to her own reflections. 
 
 "It'll kill her stone dead," thought Mrs. Nichols, re- 
 volving in her own mind the propriety of telling 'Lena 
 what her aunt had said. "It'll kill her stone dead, and 
 I can't tell hei. Mebby it'll blow over pretty soon." 
 
 That aftevnoon several ladies, who were in the habit 
 of calling upon 'Lena, came to Maple Grove, but not 
 one asked for her, and with her eyes and ears now sharp- 
 ened, she fancied that once, as she was passing the par- 
 lor door, she heard her own name coupled with that of 
 Mr. Graham. A startling light burst upon her, and 
 staggering to her room, she threw herself, half -fainting, 
 upon the bed, where an hour afterward she was found 
 by Aunt Milly. 
 
 The old negress had also heard the story in its most 
 aggravated form, and readily divining the cause of 
 'Lena's grief, attempted to console her, telling her "not 
 to mind what the good-for-nothin' critters said; they 
 war only mad 'cause she's so much handsomer and 
 trimmer built." 
 
 "You know, then," said 'Lena, lifting her head from 
 the pillow. "You know what it is; so tell me, fori 
 shall die if I remain longer in suspense. " 
 
 "Lor' bless the child," exclaimed old Milly; "to think 
 she's the very last one to know, when it's been commcn 
 talk more than a month 1" 
 
*LENA RIVERS. 353 
 
 "What's been common talk? What is it?" demanded 
 Lena ; and old Milly, seating herself upon a trunk, com- 
 menced : 
 
 "Why, honey, hain't you hearn how you done got 
 Mr. Graham's pictur and gin him yourn long of one of 
 them curls — how he's writ and you've writ, and how 
 he's gone off to the eends of the airth to git rid on you 
 — and how you try to cotch young Mas'r Durward, who 
 hate the sight on you — how you waylay him one day, 
 settin' on a rock out by the big gate— and how you been 
 seen mighty nigh fifty times comin' home a foot from 
 Captain Atherton's in the night, rainin' thunder and 
 lightnin' hard as it could pour — how after you done got 
 Miss Anna to 'lope, you ax Captain Atherton to have 
 you, and git mad as fury 'cause he 'fuses — and how 
 your mother warn't none too likely, and a heap more 
 that I can't remember — hain't you heard of none on't?" 
 
 "None, none," answered 'Lena, while Milly con- 
 tinued : 
 
 "It's a sin and shame for quality folks that belong to 
 the meetin' to pitch into a poor 'fenseless girl and pick 
 her all to pieces.. Reckon they done forgot what our 
 Heabenly Marster told 'em when he lived here in old 
 Kentuck, how they must dig the truck out of thar own 
 eyes afore they go to meddlin' with others ; but they 
 never think of him these days, 'cept Sundays, and then 
 as soon as meetin' is out, they done git together and 
 talk about you and Mas'r Graham orf ully. I hearn 'em 
 last Sunday, I and Miss Fontaine's cook, Cilly, and if 
 they don't quit it, thar's a heap on us goin' to leave the 
 church !" 
 
 'Lena smiled in spite of herself, and when Milly, who 
 arose to leave the room, again told her not to care, as 
 all the blacks were for her, she felt that she was not 
 utterly alone in her wretchedness. Still, the sympathy 
 
354 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 of the colored people alone could not help her, and daily 
 matters grew worse, until at last even Nellie Douglass* 
 faith was shaken, and 'Lena's heart died within her as 
 she saw in her signs of neglect. Never had Mr. Liv- 
 ingstone exchanged a word with her upon the subject, 
 but the reserve with which he treated her plainly indi- 
 cated that he, too, was prejudiced, while her aunt and 
 Carrie let no opportunity pass of slighting her, the latter 
 invariably leaving the room if she entered it. On one 
 such occasion, in a state bordering almost on distraction, 
 'Lena flew back to her own chamber, where to her great 
 surprise, she found her uncle in close conversation with 
 her grandmother, whose face told the pain his words 
 were inflicting. 'Lena's first impulse was to fall at his 
 feet and implore his protection, but he prevented her 
 by immediately leaving the room. 
 
 "Oh, grandmother, grandmother," she cried, "help 
 me or I shall die. " 
 
 In her heart Mrs. Nichols believed her guilty, for 
 John had said so — he would not lie; and to 'Lena's 
 touching appeal for sympathy, she replied, as she rocked 
 to and fro, "I wish you had died, 'Leny, years and 
 years ago." 
 
 'Twas the last drop in the brimming bucket, and 
 with the wailing cry, "God help me now — no one else 
 can," the heart-broken girl fell fainting to the floor, 
 while in silent agony Mrs. Nichols hung over her, 
 shouting for help. 
 
 Both Mrs. Livingstone and Carrie refused to come, 
 out at the first call Aunt Milly hastened to the room. 
 "Poor sheared lamb," said she, gathering back the 
 thick, clustering curls which shaded 'Lena's marble 
 face, "she's innocent as the new-born baby." 
 
 "Oh, if I could think so," said grandma, but she 
 could not, and when the soft brown eyes again unclosed, 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 355 
 
 and eagerly sought hers, they read distrust and doubt, 
 and motioning her grandmother away, 'Lena said she 
 would rather be alone. 
 
 Many and bitter were the thoughts which crowded 
 upon her as she lay there watching the daylight fade 
 from the distant hills, and musing of the stern realities 
 around her. Gradually her thoughts assumed a defin- 
 ite purpose ; she would go away from a place where she 
 was never wanted, and where she now no longer wished 
 to stay. Mr. Everett had promised to be her friend, 
 and to him she would go. At different intervals her 
 uncle and cousin had given her money to the amount of 
 twenty dollars, which was still in her possession, and 
 which she knew would take her far on her road. 
 
 "With 'Lena to resolve was to do, and that night, 
 when sure her grandmother was asleep, she arose and 
 hurriedly made the needful preparations for her flight. 
 Unlike most aged people, Mrs. Nichols slept soundly 
 and 'Lena had no fears of waking her. Very stealthily 
 she moved around the room, placing in a satchel, which 
 she could carry upon her arm, the few things she would 
 need. Then, sitting down by the table, she wrote : 
 
 4 'Dear Grandma: When you read this I shall be 
 gone, for I cannot longer stay where all look upon me 
 as a wretched, guilty thing. I am innocent, grandma, 
 as innocent as my angel mother when they dared to 
 slander her ; but you do not believe it, and that is the 
 hardest of all. I could have borne the rest, but when 
 you, too, doubted me, it broke my heart, and now I am 
 going away. Nobody will care — nobody will miss me 
 but you. 
 
 "And now dear, dear grandma, it costs me more pain 
 to write than it will you to read, 
 
 '"Lena's last Good-by." 
 
 All was at length ready, and then bending gently 
 
356 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 over the wrinkled face so calmly sleeping 'Lena gazed 
 through blinding tears upon each lineament, striving to 
 imprint it upon her heart's memory, and wondering if 
 they would ever meet again. The hand which had so 
 often rested caressingly upon her young head, was lying 
 outside the counterpane, and with one burning kiss 
 upon it she turned away, first placing the lamp by the 
 window, where its light, shining upon her from afar, 
 would be the last thing she could see of the home she 
 was leaving. 
 
 The road to Midway, the nearest railway station, was 
 well known to her, and without once pausing, lest her 
 courage should fail her, she pressed forward. The dis- 
 tance which she had to travel was about three and a 
 half miles, and as she did not dare trust herself in the 
 highway, she struck into the fields, looking back as long 
 as the glimmering light from the window could be seen, 
 and then, when that home star had disappeared from 
 view, silently imploring aid from Him who alone could 
 help her now. She was in time for the cars, and though 
 the depot agent looked curiously at her slight, shrinking 
 figure, he asked no questions, and when the train moved 
 rapidly away, 'Lena looked out upon the dark, still 
 night, and felt that she was a wanderer in the world. 
 
*LENA RIVERS. 357 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 REACTION. 
 
 The light of a dark, cloudy morning shone faintly in 
 at the window of Grandma Nichols' room, and roused 
 her from her slumber. On the pillow beside her rested 
 no youthful head — there was no kind voice bidding her 
 "good morrow" — no gentle hand ministering to her 
 comfort — for 'Lena was gone, and on the table lay the 
 note, which at first escaped Mrs. Nichols' attention. 
 Thinking her granddaughter had arisen early and gone 
 before her, she attempted to make her own toilet, which 
 was nearly completed, when her eye caught the note. 
 It was directed to her, and with a dim foreboding she 
 took it up, reading that her child was gone — gone from 
 those who should have sustained her in her hour of trial, 
 but who, instead, turned against her, crushing her 
 down, until in a state of desperation she had fled. It 
 was in vain that the breakfast bell rang out its loud 
 summons. Grandma did not heed it ; and when Cor- 
 inda came up to seek her, she started back in affright at 
 the scene before her. Mrs. Nichols' cap was not yet 
 on, and her thin gray locks fell around her livid face as 
 she swayed from side to side, moaning at intervals, 
 "God forgive me that I broke her heart." 
 
 The sound of the opening door aroused her, and look- 
 ing up she said, pointing toward the vacant bed, 
 " 'Leny's gone; I've killed her." 
 
 Corinda waited for no more, but darting through the 
 
358 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 hall and down the stairs, she rushed into the dining 
 Toom, announcing the startling news that "old miss had 
 done murdered Miss 'Lena, and hid her under the bed !'' 
 
 "What will come next!" exclaimed Mrs. Livingstone, 
 following her husband to his mother's room, where a 
 moment sufficed to explain the whole. 
 
 'Lena was gone, and the shock had for a time unset- 
 tled the poor old lady's reason. The sight of his 
 mother's distress aroused all the better nature of Mr. 
 Livingstone, and tenderly soothing her, he told her that 
 'Lena should be found — he would go for her himself. 
 Carrie, too, was touched, and with unwonted kindness 
 she gathered up the scattered locks, and tying on the 
 muslin cap, placed her hand for an instant on the 
 wrinkled brow. 
 
 "Keep it there; it feels soft, like 'Leny's," said Mrs. 
 Nichols, the tears gushing out at this little act of sym- 
 pathy. 
 
 Meantime, Mr. Livingstone, after a short consultation 
 with his wife, hurried off to the neighbors, uone of 
 whom knew aught of the fugitive, and all of whom 
 offered their assistance in searching. Never once did it 
 occur to Mr. Livingstone that she might have taken 
 the cars, for that he knew would need money, and he 
 supposed she had none in her possession. By a strange 
 coincidence, too, the depot agent who sold her the 
 ticket, left the very next morning for Indiana, where 
 he had been intending to go for some time, and where 
 he remained for more than a week, thus preventing the 
 information which he could otherwise have given con- 
 cerning her flight. Consequently, Mr. Livingstone re- 
 turned each night, weary and disheartened, to his home, 
 where all the day long his mother moaned and wept, 
 asking for her 'Lena. 
 
 At last, as day after day went by and brought no 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 359 
 
 tidings of the wanderer, she ceased to ask for her, but 
 whenever a stranger came to the house, she would whis- 
 per softly to them, " 'Leny's dead. I killed her; did 
 you know it?" at the same time passing to them the 
 crumpled note, which she ever held in her hand. 
 
 'Lena was a general favorite in the neighborhood 
 which had so recently denounced her, and when it be- 
 came known that she was gone, there came a reaction, 
 and those who had been the most bitter against her 
 now changed their opinion, wondering how they could 
 aver have thought her guilty. The stories concerning 
 her visits to Captain Atherton's were traced back to 
 their source, resulting in exonerating her from all 
 blame, while many things, hitherto kept secret, concern- 
 ing Anna's engagement, were brought to light, and 
 'Lena was universally commended for her efforts to 
 save her cousin from a marriage so wholly unnatural. 
 Severely was the captain censured for the part he had 
 taken in deceiving Anna, a part which he frankly con- 
 fessed, while he openly espoused the cause of the fugi- 
 tive. 
 
 Mrs. Livingstone, on the contrary, was not generous 
 enough to make a like confession. Public suspicion 
 pointed to her as the intercepter of Anna's letters, 
 and though she did not deny it, she wondered what that 
 had to do with 'Lena, at the same time asking, "how 
 they expected to clear up the Graham affair." 
 
 This was comparatively easy, for in the present state 
 of feeling the neighborhood were willing to overlook 
 many things which had before seemed dark and mys- 
 terious, while Mrs. Graham, for some most unaccounta- 
 ble reason, suddenly retracted almost everything she 
 had said, acknowledging that she was too hasty in her 
 conclusions, and evincing for the missing girl a degree 
 of interest perfectly surprising to Mrs. Livingstone, who 
 
360 *LENA RIVERS. 
 
 looked on in utter astonishment wondering what the 
 end would be. About this time Durward returned, 
 greatly pained at the existing state of things. In 
 Frankfort, where 'Lena's flight was a topic of discus- 
 sion, he had met with the depot agent, who was on his 
 way home, and who spoke of the young girl whose 
 rather singular manner had attracted his attention. 
 This was undoubtedly 'Lena, and after a few moments' 
 conversation with his mother, Durward announced his 
 intention of going after her, at least as far as Rockford, 
 where he fancied she might have gone. 
 
 To his surprise his mother made no objection, but her 
 manner seemed so strange that he at last asked what 
 was the matter. 
 
 "Nothing — nothing in particular," said she; "only 
 I've been thinking it all over lately, and I've come to 
 the conclusion that perhaps 'Lena is innocent after all. " 
 
 Oh, how eagerly Durward caught at her words, 
 interrupting her almost before she had finished speak- 
 ing with, "Do you know anything? Have you heard 
 anything !" 
 
 She had heard — she did know; but ere she could re- 
 ply, the violent ringing of the door-bell, and the arrival 
 of visitors, prevented her answer. In a perfect fever of 
 excitement Durward glanced at his watch. If he 
 waited long, he would be too late for the cars, and with 
 a hasty adieu he left the parlor, turning back ere he 
 reached the outer door, and telling his mother he must 
 speak with her alone. If Mrs. Graham had at first in- 
 tended to divulge what she knew, the impulse was now 
 gone, and to her son's urgent request that she should 
 disclose what she knew, she replied, "It isn't much- 
 only your father has another daguerreotype, the counter- 
 part of the first one. He procured it in Cincinnati, and 
 'Lena I know was not there." 
 
*LENA RIVERS. 361 
 
 "Is that all?" asked Durward in a disappointed tone. 
 
 "Why, no, not exactly. I have examined both pic- 
 tures closely, and I do not think they resemble 'Lena as 
 much as we at first supposed. Possibly it might have 
 been some one else, her mother, maybe," and Mrs. 
 Graham looked earnestly at her son, who rather im- 
 patiently answered : 
 
 "Her mother died years ago." 
 
 At the same time he walked away, pondering upon 
 what he had heard, and hoping, half-believing, that 
 'Lena would yet be exonerated from all blame. For a 
 moment Mrs. Graham gazed after him, regretting that 
 she had not told him all, but thinking there was time 
 enough yet, and remembering that her husband had 
 said she might wait until his return, if she chose, she 
 went back to the parlor, while Durward kept on his 
 
"LENA RIVERS, 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIIL 
 
 THE WANDERER. 
 
 Fiercely the noontide blaze of a scotching July sua 
 was falling upon the huge walls of the ' ' Laurel Hill Sun,' 5 
 where a group of idlers were lounging on the long, nar- 
 row piazza, some niching into still more grotesque carv- 
 ing the rude, unpainted railing, while others, half re- 
 clining on one elbow, shaded their eyes with their old 
 slouched hats, as they gazed wistfully toward the long 
 hill, eager to catch the first sight of the daily stage 
 which was momentarily expected. 
 
 "Jerry is late to-day — but it's so plaguy hot he's fav- 
 orin' his hosses, I guess," said the rosy-faced landlord, 
 with that peculiar intonation which stamped him at 
 once a genuine Yankee. 
 
 "A watched pot never biles," muttered one of the 
 loungers, who regularly for fifteen years had been at 
 his post, waiting for the stage, which during all that 
 time had brought him neither letter, message, friend, 
 nor foe. 
 
 But force of habit is everything, and after the very 
 wise saying recorded above, he resumed his whittling, 
 never again looking up until the loud blast of the 
 driver's horn was heard on the distant hill-top, where 
 the four, weary, jaded horses were now visible. It was 
 the driver's usual custom to blow his horn from the 
 moment he appeared on the hill, until with a grand 
 flourish he reined his panting steeds before the door of 
 
LENA RIVERS- 363 
 
 the inn. But this time there was one sharp, shrill 
 sound, and then all was still, the omission eliciting sev- 
 eral remarks not very complimentary to the weather, 
 which was probably the cause of "Jerry's" unwonted 
 silence. Very slowly the vehicle came on, the horses 
 never leaving a walk, and the idler of fifteen years' 
 standing, who for a time had suspended his whittling, 
 "wondered what was to pay." 
 
 A nearer approach revealed three or four male pas- 
 sengers, all occupied with a young lady, who, on the 
 back seat was carefully supported by one of her com- 
 panions. 
 
 "A sick gal, I guess. Wonder if the disease is 
 catchin'?" said the whittler, standing back several paces 
 and looking over the heads of the others, who crowded 
 forward as the stage came up. The loud greeting of 
 the noisy group was answered by Jerry with a low 
 "sh — sh," as he pointed significantly at the slight form 
 which two of the gentlemen were lifting from the 
 coach, asking at the same time if there were a physi- 
 cian near. 
 
 "What's the matter on her? Hain't got the cholery, 
 has she," said the landlord, who, having hallooed to his 
 wife to "fetch up her vittles," now appeared on the 
 piazza ready to welcome his guests. 
 
 At the first mention of cholera, the fifteen years' man 
 vamosed, retreating across the road, and seating him- 
 self on the fence under the shadow of the locust trees. 
 
 "Who is she, Jerry?" asked the younger of the set, 
 gazing curiously upon the white, beautiful face of the 
 stranger, who had been laid upon the lounge in the 
 common sitting room. 
 
 "Lord only knows," said Jerry, wiping the heavy 
 drops of sweat from his good-humored face ; "I found 
 her at the hotel in Livony. She came there in the cars, 
 
364 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 and said she wanted to go over to 'tother railroad. She 
 was so weak that I had to lift her into the stage as I 
 would a baby, and she ain't much heavier. You orto 
 seen how sweet she smiled when she thanked me, and 
 asked me not to drive very fast, it made her head ache 
 so. Zounds, I wouldn't of trotted the horses if I'd 
 never got here. Jest after we started she fainted, and 
 she's been kinder talkin' strange-like ever since. Some 
 of the gentlemen thought I'd better leave her back a 
 piece at Brown's tavern, but I wanted to fetch her here, 
 where Aunt Betsey could nuss her up, and then I can 
 kinder tend to her myself, you know. " 
 
 This last remark called forth no answering joke, for 
 Jerry's companions all knew his kindly nature, and it 
 was no wonder to them that his sympathies were so 
 strongly enlisted for the fair girl thus thrown upon his 
 protection. It was a big, noble heart over which Jerry 
 Langley buttoned his driver's coat, and when the physi- 
 cian who had arrived pronounced the lady too ill to pro- 
 ceed any further, he called aside the fidgety landlord, 
 whose peculiarities he well knew, and bade him "not to 
 fret and stew, for if the gal hadn't money, Jerry Lang- 
 ley was good for a longer time than she would live, 
 poor critter;" and he wiped a tear away, glancing, the 
 while at the burying-ground which lay just across the 
 garden, and thinking how if she died, her grave should 
 be beneath the wide spreading oak, where often in the 
 summer nights he sat, counting the headstones which 
 marked the last resting place of the slumbering host, 
 and wondering if death were, as some had said, a long, 
 eternal sleep. 
 
 Aunt Betsey, of whom he had spoken, was the land- 
 lady, a little dumpy, pleasant-faced, active woman, 
 equally in her element bending over the steaming grid- 
 iron, or smoothing the pillows of the sick-bed, where 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 365 
 
 her powers of nursing had won golden laurels from 
 others than Jerry Langley. When the news was 
 brought to the kitchen that among the passengers was 
 a sick girl, who was to be left, her first thought, natural 
 to everybody was, "What shall I do?" while the second 
 natural to her, was, "Take care of her, of course." 
 
 Accordingly, when the dinner was upon the table, 
 she laid aside her broad check apron, substituting in its 
 place a half -worn silk, for Jerry had reported the in- 
 valid to be "every inch a lady;" then smoothing her 
 soft, silvery hair with her fat, rosy hands, she repaired 
 to the sitting room, where she found the driver watch- 
 ing his charge, from whom he kept the buzzing flies by 
 means of his bandana, which he waved to and fro with 
 untiring patience. 
 
 "Handsome as a London doll," was her first exclama- 
 tion, adding, "but I should think she'd be awful hot 
 with them curls, danglin' in her neck ! If she's goin' to 
 be sick, they'd better be cut off !" 
 
 If there was any one thing for which Aunt Betsey 
 Aldergrass possessed a particular passion, it was for 
 hair cutting, she being barber general for Laurel Hill, 
 which numbered about thirty houses, store and church 
 inclusive, and now when she saw the shining tresses 
 which lay in such profusion upon the pillow, her fingers 
 tingled to their very tips, while she involuntarily felt 
 for her scissors ! Very reverentially, as if it were al- 
 most sacrilege, Jerry's broad palm was laid protectingly 
 upon the clustering ringlets, while he said, "No, Aunt 
 Betsey, if she dies for't, you shan't touch one of them; 
 'twould spile her, and she looks so pretty." 
 
 Slowly the long, fringed lids unclosed, and the brown 
 eyes looked up so gratefully at Jerry, that he beat a 
 precipitate retreat, muttering to himself, that "he never 
 could stand the gals, anyway, they made his heart 
 thump sol" 
 
366 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 "Am I very sick, and can't I go on!" asked tha 
 young lady, attempting to rise but sinking back from 
 extreme weakness. 
 
 "Considerable sick, I guess," answered the landlady, 
 taking from a side cupboard an immense decanter of 
 camphor, and passing it toward the stranger. "Con- 
 siderable sick, and I wouldn't wonder if you had to lay 
 by a day or so. "Will they be consarned about you to 
 home, 'cause if they be my old man '11 write." 
 
 "I have no home," was the sad answer, to which 
 Aunt Betsey responded in astonishment : 
 
 "Hain't no home! Where does your marm live?" 
 
 "Mother is dead," said the girl, her tears dropping 
 fast upon her pillow. 
 
 Instinctively the landlady drew nearer to her, as she 
 asked, "And your pa — where is he?" 
 
 "I never saw him," said the girl, while her interroga- 
 tor continued : 
 
 "Never saw your pa, and your marm is dead — poor 
 child, what is your name, and where did you come 
 from?" 
 
 For a moment the stranger hesitated, and then think- 
 ing it better to tell the truth at once, she replied, "My 
 name is 'Lena. I lived with my uncle a great many 
 miles from here, but I wasn't happy. They did not 
 want me there, and I ran away, I am going to my 
 cousin, but I'd rather not tell where, so you will please 
 not ask me. " 
 
 There was something in her manner which silenced 
 Aunt Betsey, who, erelong, proposed that she should go 
 upstairs and lie down on a nice little bed, where she 
 would be more quiet. But 'Lena refused, saying she 
 should feel better soon. 
 
 "Mebby, then, you'd eat a mouffle or two. We*ve 
 got some roasted pork, and Hetty'll warm over the 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 36? 
 
 gravy;" but 'Lena's stomach rebelled at the very thought, 
 seeing which, the landlady went back to the kitchen, 
 where she soon prepared a bowl of gruel, in spite of the 
 discouraging remarks of her husband, who, being a 
 little after the Old Hunks order, cautioned her "not to 
 fuss too much, as gals that run away warn't apt to be 
 plagued with money." 
 
 Fortunately, Aunt Betsey's heart covered a broader 
 sphere, and the moment the stage was gone, she closed 
 the door to shut out the dust, dropped the green cur- 
 tains, and drawing from the spare-room a large stuffed 
 chair, bade 'Lena "see if she couldn't set up a minit." 
 But this was impossible, and all that long, sultry after- 
 noon she lay upon the lounge, holding her aching head, 
 which seemed well-nigh bursting with its weight of 
 pain and thought. "Was it right for her to run away? 
 Ought she not to have stayed and bravely met the worst? 
 Suppose she were to die there alone, among strangers 
 and without money, for her scanty purse was well-nigh 
 drained. " These and similar reflections crowded upon 
 her until her brain grew wild and dizzy, and when at 
 sunset the physician came again, he was surprised to 
 find how much her fever had increased. 
 
 "She ought not to lie here," said he, as he saw how 
 the loud shouts of the school-boys made her shudder. 
 "Isn't there some place where she can be more quiet?" 
 
 At the head of the stairs was a small room, contain- 
 ing a single bed and window, which last looked out 
 upon the garden and the graveyard beyond. Its furni- 
 ture was of the plainest kind, it being reserved for more 
 common travelers, and here the landlord said 'Lena 
 must be taken. His wife would far rather have given 
 her the front chamber, which was large, airy, and light, 
 but Uncle Tim Aldergrass said "No;" squealing out 
 through his little peaked nose that "'twarn't an atom 
 
'368 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 likely he'd ever more'n half git his pay, anyway, and 
 he warn't a goin' to give up the hull house." 
 . "How much more will it be if she has the best cham- 
 ber," asked Jerry, pulling at Uncle Tim's coat-tail and 
 leading him aside. "How much will it be, 'cause if 
 'tain't too much, she shan't stay in that eight by nine 
 pen. " 
 
 "A dollar a week, and cheap at that," muttered 
 Uncle Tim, while Jerry, going out behind the wood- 
 house, counted over his funds, sighing as he found 
 them quite too small to meet the extra dollar per week, 
 should she long continue ill. 
 
 "If I hadn't of fooled so much away for tobacker and 
 things, I shouldn't be so plaguy poor now, " thought he, 
 forgetting the many hearts which his hard-earned gains 
 had made glad, for no one ever appealed in vain for 
 help from Jerry Langley, who represented one class of 
 Yankees, while Timothy Aldergrass represented an- 
 other. 
 
 The next morning just as daylight was beginning to 
 be visible, Jerry knocked softly at Aunty Betsey's door, 
 telling her that for more than an hour he'd heard the 
 young lady takin' on, and he guessed she was worse. 
 Hastily throwing on her loose-gown Aunt Betsey re- 
 paired to 'Lena's room, where she found her sitting up 
 in the bed, moaning, talking, and whispering, while 
 the wild expression of her eyes betokened a disordered 
 brain. 
 
 "The Lord help us! she's crazy as a loon. Run for 
 the doctor quick!" exclaimed Mrs. Aldergrass, and 
 without boot or shoe, Jerry ran off in his stocking-feet, 
 alarming the physician, who immediately hastened to 
 the inn, pronouncing 'Lena's disease to be brain fever, 
 as he had at first feared. 
 
 Rapidly she grew worse, talking of her home, which 
 
'LENA RIVERS. S6d 
 
 was sometimes in Kentucky and sometimes in Massa- 
 chusetts, where she said they had buried her mother. 
 At other times she would ask Aunt Betsey to send for 
 Durward when she was dead, and tell him how inno- 
 cent she was. 
 
 "Didn't I tell you there was something wrong?" 
 Uncle Timothy would squeak. "Nobody knows who 
 we are harborin' nor how much 'twill damage the 
 house. " 
 
 But as day after day went by, and 'Lena's fever 
 raged more fiercely, even Uncle Tim relented, and when 
 she would beg of them to take her home and bury her 
 by the side of Mabel, where Durward could see her 
 grave, he would sigh, "Poor critter, I wish you was to 
 home;" but whether this wish was prompted by a sin- 
 cere desire to please 'Lena, or from a more selfish motive, 
 we are unable to state. One morning, the fifth of 
 'Lena's illness, she seemed much worse, talking inces- 
 santly and tossing from side to side, her long hair float- 
 ing in wild disorder over her pillow, or streaming down 
 her shoulders. Hitherto Aunt Betsey had restrained 
 her barberic desire, each day arranging the heavy locks, 
 and tucking them under the muslin cap, where they 
 refused to stay. Once the doctor himself had suggested 
 the propriety of cutting them away, adding, though, 
 that they would wait awhile, as it was a pity to lose 
 them. 
 
 "Better be cut off than yanked off," said Aunt Betsey, 
 on the morning when 'Lena in her frenzy would occa- 
 sionally tear out handfuls of her shining hair and scat- 
 ter it over the floor. 
 
 Satisfied that she was doing right, she carefully ap- 
 proached the bedside, and taking one of the curls in her 
 hand, was about to sever it, when 'Lena, divining her 
 iwtentions, sprang up, and gathering up her hair, ex» 
 
370 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 claimed, "No, no, not these; take everything else, but 
 leave me my curls. Durward thought they were beau- 
 tiful, and I cannot lose them." 
 
 At the side door below, the noonday stage was un- 
 loading its passengers, and as the tones of their voices 
 came in at the open window, 'Lena suddenly grew 
 calmer, and assuming a listening attitude, whispered, 
 "Hark! He's come. Don't you hear him?" 
 
 But Aunt Betsey heard nothing, except her husband 
 calling her to come down, and leaving 'Lena, who had 
 almost instantly become quiet, to the care of a neighbor, 
 she started for the kitchen, meeting in the lower hall 
 with Hetty, who was showing one of the passengers to 
 a room where he could wash and refresh himself after 
 his dusty ride. As they passed each other, Hetty asked, 
 1 'Have you clipped her curls!" 
 
 "No," answered Mrs. Aldergrass, "she wouldn't let 
 me touch 'em, for she said that Durward, whom she 
 talks so much about, liked 'em, and they mustn't be cut 
 off." 
 
 Instantly the stranger, whose elegant appearance 
 both Hetty and her mistress had been admiring, 
 stopped, and turning to the latter, said: "Of whom are 
 you speaking?" 
 
 "Of a young girl that came in the stage, sick, five or 
 six days ago," answered Mrs. Aldergrass. 
 
 "What is her name, and where does she live?" con- 
 tinued the stranger. 
 
 "She calls herself 'Lena, but 'tother name I don't 
 know, and I guess she lives in Kentucky or Massa- 
 chusetts. " 
 
 The young man waited to hear no more, but mechani- 
 cally followed Hetty to his room, starting and turning 
 pale, as a wild, unnatural laugh fell on his ear. 
 
 "It is the young lady, sir," said Hetty, observing hia 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 371 
 
 agitated manner. "She raves most all the time, and 
 the doctor says she'll die if she don't stop." 
 
 The gentleman nodded, and the next moment he was, 
 as he wished to be, alone. He had found her then — his 
 lost 'Lena — sick, perhaps dying, and his heart gave one 
 agonized throb as he thought, "What if she should die? 
 Yet why should I wish her to live?" he asked, "when 
 she is as surely lost to me as if she were indeed resting 
 in her grave !" 
 
 And still, reason as he would, a something told him 
 that all would yet be well, else, perhaps, he had never 
 followed her. Believing she would stop at Mr. Ever- 
 ett's, he had come on thus far, finding her where he least 
 expected it, and in spite of his fears, there was much 
 of pleasure mingled with his pain as he thought how he 
 would protect and care for her, ministering to her com- 
 fort, and softening, as far as possible, the disagreeable 
 things which he saw must necessarily surround her. 
 Money, he knew would purchase almost everything, 
 and if ever Durward Bellmont felt glad that he was 
 rich, it was when he found 'Lena Rivers sick and alone 
 at the not very comfortable inn of Laurel Hill. 
 
 As he was entering the dining room, he saw Jerry — ■ 
 whose long, lank figure and original manner had 
 afforded him much amusement during his ride — hand- 
 ing a dozen or more oranges to Mrs. Aldergrass saying, 
 as he did so, "They are for Miss 'Lena. I thought 
 mebby they'd taste good, this hot weather, and I ran- 
 sacked the hull town to find the nicest and best." 
 
 For a moment Durward's cheek flushed at the idea 
 of 'Lena's being cared for by such as Jerry, but the 
 next instant his heart grew warm toward the uncouth 
 driver, who, without any possible motive save the 
 promptings of his own kindly nature, had thus thought 
 of the stranger girl. Erelong the stage was announced 
 
372 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 as ready and waiting, but to the surprise and regret of 
 his fellow-passengers, who had found him a most agree 
 able traveling companion, Durward said he was not 
 going any further that day. 
 
 "A new streak, ain't it?" asked Jerry, who knew he 
 was booked for the entire route ; but the young man 
 made no reply, and the fresh, spirited horses soon bore 
 the lumbering vehicle far out of sight, leaving him to 
 watch the cloud of dust which it carried in its train. 
 
 Uncle Timothy was in his element, for it was not 
 often that a guest of Durward's appearance honored his 
 house with more than a passing call, and with the famil- 
 iarity so common to a country landlord, he slapped him 
 on the shoulder telling him "there was the tallest kind 
 of fish in the Honeoye," whose waters, through the 
 thick foliage of the trees, were just discernible, spark- 
 ling and gleaming in the bright sunlight. 
 
 "I never fish, thank you, sir," answered Durward, 
 while the good-natured landlord continued: "Now you 
 don't say it ! Hunt, then, mebby?" 
 
 "Occasionally," said Durward, adding, "But my 
 reason for stopping here is of entirely a different nature. 
 I hear there is with you a sick lady. She is a friend 
 of mine, and I am staying to see that she is well 
 attended to. 
 
 "Yes, yes," said Uncle Timothy, suddenly 
 changing his opinion of 'Lena, whose want of 
 money had made him sadly suspicious of her. "Yes, 
 yes ; a fine gal ; fell into good hands, too, for my old 
 woman is the greatest kind of a nuss. Want to see her, 
 don't you? the lady, I mean. " 
 
 "Not just yet ; I would like a few moments' con versa' 
 tion with your wife first." answered Durward. 
 
 Greatly flustrated when she learned that the stylish 
 looking gentleman wished to talk with her, Aunt Betsey 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 373 
 
 rubbed her shining face with flour, and donning another 
 cap, repaired to the sitting room, where she commenced 
 making excuses about herself, the house, and every- 
 thing else, saying, " 'twant what he was used to, she 
 knew, but she hoped he'd try to put up with it. " 
 
 As soon as he was able to get in a word, Durward 
 proceeded to ask her every particular concerning 'Lena's 
 illness, and whether she would probably recognize him 
 should he venture into her presence. 
 
 "Bless your dear heart no. She hain't known a soul 
 on us these three days. Sometimes she calls me 'grand- 
 mother,' and says when she's dead I'll know she's inno- 
 cent. 'Pears like somebody had been slanderin' her, for 
 she begs and pleads with Durward, as she calls him, 
 not to believe it. Ain't you the one she means?" 
 
 Durward nodded, and Mrs. Aldergrass continued: "I 
 thought so, for when the stage driv up she was standin' 
 straight in the bed, ravin' and screechin', but the minit 
 she heard your voice she dropped down, and has been 
 as quiet ever since. Will you go up now?" 
 
 Durward signified his willingness, and following his 
 landlady, he soon stood in the close, pent-up room, 
 where, in an uneasy slumber, 'Lena lay panting for 
 breath, and at intervals faintly moaning in her sleep. 
 She had fearfully changed since last he saw her, and, 
 with a groan, he bent over her, murmuring, "My poor 
 'Lena," while he gently laid his cool, moist hand upon 
 her burning brow. As if there were something sooth- 
 ing in its touch, she quickly placed her little hot, parched 
 hand on his, whispering, "Keep it there. It will make 
 me well." 
 
 For a long time he sat by her, bathing her head and 
 carefully removing from her face and neck the thick 
 curls which Mrs. Aldergrass had thought to cut away. 
 At last she awoke, but Durward shrank almost in fear 
 
374 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 from the wild, bright eyes which gazed so fixedly upon 
 him, for in them was no ray of reason. She called him 
 "John," blessing him for coming, and saying, "Did 
 you tell Durward. Does he know?" 
 
 "I am Durward," said he, "Don't you recognise 
 me? Look again. " 
 
 "No, no," she answered, with a mocking laugh, 
 which made him shudder, it was so unlike the merry, 
 ringing tones he had once loved to hear, "No, no, you 
 are not Durward. He would not look at me as you do. 
 He thinks me guilty." 
 
 It was in vain Durward strove to convince her of his 
 identity. She would only answer with a laugh, which 
 grated so harshly on his ear jhat he finally desisted, and 
 suffered her to think he was her cousin. The smallness 
 of her chamber troubled him, and when Mrs. Alder- 
 grass came up he asked her if there was no other apart- 
 ment where 'Lena would be more comfortable. 
 
 "Of course there is," said Aunt Betsey. "There's 
 the best chamber I was goin' to give tc you. " 
 
 "Never mind me," said he. "Let her have every 
 comfort the house affords, and you shall be amply paid." 
 
 Uncle Timothy had now no objection to the offer, 
 and the large, airy room with its snowy, draped bed 
 was soon in readiness for the sufferer, who, in one of her 
 wayward moods, absolutely refused to be moved. It 
 was in vain that Aunt Betsey pleaded, persuaded, and 
 threatened, and at last in despair Durward was called 
 in to try his powers of persuasion. 
 
 "That's something more like it," said 'Lena; and 
 when he urged upon her the necessity of her removal, 
 she asked, "Will you go with me?" 
 
 "Certainly," said he. 
 
 "And stay with me?" 
 
 "Certainly." 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 3?5 
 
 w Then I'll go," she continued, stretching her arms 
 toward him as a child toward its mother. 
 
 A moment more and she was reclining on the soft, 
 downy pillows, the special pride of Mrs. Aldergrass, who 
 bustled in and out, while her husband, ashamed of his 
 stinginess, said, "they should of moved her afore, only 
 'twas a bad sign. " 
 
 During the remainder of the day she seemed more 
 quiet, talking incessantly, it is true, but never raving if 
 Durward were near. It is strange what power he had 
 over her, a word from him sufficing at any time to sub- 
 due her when in her most violent fits of frenzy. For 
 two days and nights he watched by her side, never 
 giving himself a moment's rest, while the neighbors 
 looked on, surmising and commenting as people always 
 will. Every delicacy of the season, however costly, 
 was purchased for her comfort, while each morning the 
 flowers which he knew she loved the best were freshly 
 gathered from the different gardens of Laurel Hill, and 
 in broken pitchers, cracked tumblers, and nicked saucers 
 adorned the room. 
 
 At the close of the third &<y a^e fell into a heavy 
 slumber, and Durward, worn out an 1 weary, retired to 
 take the rest he so much needed. For a long time 
 'Lena slept, watched by the physician, who, knowing 
 that the crisis had arrived, waited anxiously for hei 
 waking, which came at last, bringing with it the light 
 of returning reason. Dreamily she gazed about the 
 room, and in a voice no longer strong with the excite- 
 ment of delirium, asked, "Where am I, and how came 
 I here?" 
 
 In a few words the physician explained all that was 
 necessary for her to know, and then going for JMrs. 
 Aldergrass, told her of the favorable change in his 
 patient, adding that a sudden shock might still prove 
 
376 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 fatal. "Therefore, 5 " said he, "though I know not in 
 what relation this Mr. Belmont stands to her, I think it 
 advisable for her to remain awhile in ignorance of his 
 presence. It is of the utmost consequence that she be 
 kept quiet for a few days, at the end of which time she 
 can see him ." 
 
 All this Aunt Betsey communicated to Durward, 
 who, unwilling to do anything which would endanger 
 'Lena's safety, kept himself aloof, treading softly and 
 speaking low, for as if her hearing were sharpened by 
 disease, she more than once, when he was talking in the 
 hall below, started up, listening eagerly ; then, as if sat- 
 isfied that she had been deceived, she would resume her 
 position, while the flush on her cheek deepened as she 
 thought, "Oh, what if it had indeed been he!" 
 
 Nearly all the day long he sat just without the door, 
 holding his breath as he caught the faint tones of her 
 voice, and longing for the hour when he could see her, 
 and obtain, if possible, some clew to the mystery attend- 
 ing her and his father. His mother's words, together 
 with what he had heard 'Lena say in her ravings, had 
 tended to convince him that she, at least, might be inno- 
 cent, and once assured of this, he felt that he would 
 gladly fold her to his bosom, and cherish her there as 
 the choicest of Heaven's blessings. All this time 'Lena 
 had no suspicion of his presence, but she wondered at 
 the many luxuries which surrounded her, and once, 
 when Mrs. Aldergrass offered her some choice wine, 
 she asked who it was that supplied her with so many 
 comforts. Aunt Betsey's forte did not lay in keeping a 
 secret, and rather evasively she replied: "You mustn't 
 ask me too many questions just yet !" 
 
 'Lena's suspicions were at once aroused, and for more 
 than an hour she lay thinking — trying to recall some' 
 thing which seemed to her like a dream, At last call* 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 377 
 
 ing Aunt Betsey to her, she said, "There was some- 
 body here while I was so sick — somebody besides 
 strangers — somebody that stayed with me all the time — 
 who was it?" 
 
 "Nobody, nobody — I mustn't tell," said Mrs, Alder- 
 grass, hurriedly, while 'Lena continued : 
 
 "Was it Cousin John?" 
 
 "No, no; don't guess any more," was Mrs. Alder- 
 grass' reply, and 'Lena, clasping her hands together, 
 exclaimed : 
 
 "Oh, could it be Tie." 
 
 The words reached Durward's ear, and nothing but a 
 sense of the harm it might do prevented him from going 
 at once to her bedside. That night, at his earnest re- 
 quest, the physician gave him permission to see her in 
 the morning, and Mrs. Aldergrass was commissioned 
 to prepare her for the interview. 'Lena did not ask 
 who it was; she felt that she knew; and the knowledge 
 that he was there — that he had cared for her — operated 
 upon her like a spell, soothing her into the most refresh- 
 ing slumber she had experienced for many a weary week. 
 With the sunrising she was awake, but Mrs. Aider- 
 grass, who came in soon after, told her that the visitor 
 was not to be admitted until about ten, as she would by 
 that time have become more composed, and be the bet- 
 ter able to endure the excitement of the interview. A 
 natural delicacy prevented 'Lena from objecting to the 
 delay, and, as calmly as possible, she watched Mrs. 
 Aldergrass while she put the room to rights, and then 
 patiently submitted to the arranging of her curls, which 
 duriDg her illness had become matted and tangled. Be- 
 fore eight everything was in readiness, and soon after, 
 worn out by her own exertions, 'Lena again fell asleep. 
 
 "How lovely she looks," thought Mrs. Aldergrass. 
 "He shall just have a peep at her," and stepping to £he 
 door she beckoned-Purward to her side. 
 
378 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 Never before had 'Lena seemed so beautiful to him, 
 and as he looked upon her, he felt his doubts removing, 
 one by one. She was innocent — it could not be other- 
 wise — and very impatiently he awaited the lapse of the 
 two hours which must pass ere he could see her face to 
 face. At length, as the surest way of killing timo, he i 
 started out for a walk in the pleasant wood which 
 skirted the foot of Laurel Hill. 
 
 Here for a time we leave him, while in another chap- 
 ter we speak of an event which, in the natural order of 
 things, should liere be narrated. 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 379 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV, 
 
 Lena's father. 
 
 Two or three days before the morning of which w© 
 have spoken, Uncle Timothy, who, like many of his pro- 
 fession, had been guilty of a slight infringement of the 
 "Maine" liquor law, had been called to answer for the 
 same at the court then in session in the village of Can- 
 andaigua, the terminus of the stage route. Altogether 
 too stingy to pay the coach fare, his own horse had 
 carried him out, going for him on the night preceding 
 Durward's projected meeting with 'Lena. On the 
 afternoon of that day the cars from NeV York brought 
 up several passengers, who being bound for Buffalo, 
 were obliged to wait some hours for the arrival of the 
 Albany train. 
 
 Among those who stopped at the same house with 
 Uncle Timothy, was our old acquaintance, Mr. Graham, 
 who had returned from Europe, and was now home- 
 ward bound, firmly fixed in his intention to do right at 
 last. Many and many a time during his travels had 
 the image of a pale, sad face arisen before him, accus- 
 ing him of so long neglecting to own his child, for 'Lena 
 was his daughter, and she, who in all her bright beauty 
 had years ago gone down to an early grave, was his 
 wife, the wife of his first, and in bitterness of heart he 
 sometimes thought, of his only love. His childhood's 
 home, which was at the sunny south, was not a happy 
 one, for ere he had learned to lisp his mother's name, 
 
380 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 she had died, leaving him to the guardianship of his 
 father, who was cold, exacting, and tyrannical, ruling 
 his son with a rod of iron, and by his stem, unbending 
 manner increasing the natural cowardice of his disposi- 
 tion. From his mother Harry had inherited a generous, 
 impulsive nature, frequently leading him into errors 
 which his father condemned with so much severity that 
 he early learned the art of concealment, as far, at least, 
 as his father was concerned. 
 
 At the age of eighteen he left home for Yale, where 
 he spent four happy years, for the restraints of college 
 life, though sometimes irksome, were preferable far to 
 the dull monotony of his southern home ; and when at 
 last he was graduated, and there was no longer an ex- 
 cuse for tarrying, he lingered by the way, stopping at 
 the then village of Springfield, where, actuated by some 
 sudden freak, he registered himself as Harry Rivers, 
 the latter being his middle name. For doing this he 
 had no particular reason, except that it suited his fancy, 
 and Rivers, he thought, was a better name than Gra- 
 ham. Here he met with Helena Nichols, whose un- 
 common beauty first attracted his attention, and whoso 
 fresh, unstudied manners afterward won his love to 
 such an extent, that in an unguarded moment, and 
 without a thought of the result, he married her, neglect- 
 ing to tell her his real name before their marriage, be- 
 cause he feared she would cease to respect him if she 
 knew he had deceived her, and then afterward fi tiding 
 it harder than ever to confess his fault. 
 
 As time wore on, his father's letters, commanding 
 him to return, grew more and more peremptory, until 
 at last he wrote, "I am sick — dying — and if you do not 
 come I'll cast you off forever. " 
 
 Harry knew this was no unmeaning threat, and he 
 now began to reap the fruit of his folly. He could not 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 381 
 
 give up Helena, who daily grew dearer to him, neither 
 could he brave the displeasure of his father by acknowl- 
 edging his marriage, for disinheritance was sure to fol- 
 low. In this dilemma he resolved to compromise the 
 matter. He would leave Helena awhile; he would 
 visit his father, and if a favorable opportunity occurred, 
 he would confess all ; if not, he would return to his wife 
 and do the best he could. But she must be provided 
 for during this absence, and to effect this, he wrote to 
 his father, saying he stood greatly in need of five hun- 
 dred dollars, and that immediately on its receipt he 
 would start for home. Inconsistent as it seemed with 
 his general character, the e der Mr. Graham was gener- 
 ous with his money lavishing upon his son all that he 
 asked for, and the money was accordingly sent without 
 a moment's hesitation. 
 
 And now Harry's besetting sin, secrecy, came again 
 into action, and instead of manfully telling Helena the 
 truth, he left her privately, stealing away at night, and 
 quieting his conscience by promising himself to reveal 
 all in a letter, which was actually written, but as at the 
 time of its arrival Helena was at home, and the post- 
 master knew of no such person, it was at last sent to 
 Washington with thousands of its companions. The 
 reader already knows how 'Lena's young mother 
 watched for her recreant husband's coming until life 
 and hope died out together, and it is only necessary to 
 repeat that part of the story which relates to Harry, 
 who on his return home found his father much worse 
 than he expected. At his bedside ministering to his 
 wants, was a young, dashing widow, who prided her- 
 self upon being Lady Bellmont. On his death-bed her 
 father had committed her to the guardianship of Mr. 
 Graham, who, strictly honorable in all his dealings, had 
 held his trust until the time of her marriage with a 
 young Englishman. 
 
382 LENA RIVERS. 
 
 Unfortunately, as it proved for Harry, and fortu. 
 nately for Sir Arthur, who had nothing in common 
 with his wife, the latter died within two years after his 
 marriage, leaving his widow and infant son again to 
 the care of Mr. Graham, with whom Lady Bellmont, 
 as she was pleased to call herself, lived at intervals, 
 swaying him whichever way she listed, and influencing 
 him as he had never been influenced before. The secret 
 of this was, that the old man had his eye upon her vast 
 possessions which he destined for his son, who, ignorant 
 of the honor intended him, had presumed to marry ac- 
 cording to the promptings of his heart. 
 
 Scarcely was the first greeting over, ere his father at 
 once made known his plans, to which Harry listened 
 with mingled pain and amazement. "Lucy — Lady 
 Bellmont!" said he; "why, she's a mother — a widow — 
 beside being ten years my senior." 
 
 "Three years," interrupted his father. "She is 
 twenty-five, you twenty-two, and then as to her being a 
 widow and a mother the immensity of her wealth atones 
 for that. She is much sought after, but I think she 
 prefers you. She will make you a good wife, and I am 
 resolved to see the union consummated ere I die. " 
 
 "Never, sir, never," answered Harry, in a more de- 
 cided manner than he had before assumed toward his 
 father. "It is utterly impossible." 
 
 Mr. Graham was too much exhausted to urge the 
 matter at that time, but he continued at intervals to 
 harass Harry, until the very sight of Lucy Bellmont 
 became hateful to him. It was not so, howevey, with 
 her son, the Durward of our story. He was a fine little 
 fellow, whom every one loved, and for hours would 
 Harry amuse himself with him, while his thoughts were 
 with his own wife and child, the latter of whom was to 
 be so strangely connected with the fortunes of the boy 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 383 
 
 at his side. For weeks his father lingered, each day 
 seeming an age to Harry, who, though he did not wish 
 *o hasten his father's death, still longed to be away. 
 Twice had he written without obtaining an answer, and 
 he was about making up his mind to start, at all events, 
 when his father suddenly died, leaving him the sole heir 
 of all his princely fortune, and with his latest breath 
 enjoining it upon him to marry Lucy Bellmont, who, 
 after the funeral was over, adverted to it, saying in her 
 softest tones, "I hope you don't feel obliged to fulfill 
 your father's request." 
 
 "Of course not," was Harry's short answer, as he 
 went on with his preparations for his journey, anticipat- 
 ing the happiness he should experience in making 
 Helena the mistress of his luxurious home. 
 
 But alas for human hopes. The very morning on 
 which he was intending to start, he was seized with a 
 fever, which kept him confined to his bed until the 
 spring was far advanced. Sooner than he was able he 
 started for Springfield in quest of Helena, learning from 
 the woman whom he had left in charge, that she was 
 dead, and her baby too ! The shock was too much for 
 him in his weak state, and for two weeks he was again 
 confined to a sick-bed, sincerely mourning the untimely 
 end of one whom he had truly loved, and whose death 
 his own foolish conduct had hastened. Soon after their 
 marriage her portrait had been taken by the best artist 
 in the town, and this he determined to procure as a 
 memento of the few happy days he had spent with 
 Helena. But the cottage where he left her was now 
 occupied by strangers, and after many inquiries, he 
 learned that the portrait, together with some of the fur- 
 niture, had been sold to pay the rent, which became dua 
 soon after his departure. His next thought was to visit 
 her parents, but from this his natural 'timidity shrank. 
 
384 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 They would reproach him, he thought, with the death 
 of their daughter, whom he had so deeply wronged, 
 and not possessing sufficient courage to meet them face 
 to face, he again started for home, bearing a sad heart, 
 which scarcely again felt a thrill of joy until the morn- 
 ing when he first met with 'Lena, whose exact resem- 
 blance to her mother so startled him as to arouse the 
 jealousy of his wife. 
 
 It would be both needless and tiresome to enumerate 
 the many ways and means by which Lucy Bellmont 
 sought to ensnare him. Suffice it to say, that she at 
 last succeeded, and he married her, finding in the com- 
 panionship of her son more real pleasure than he ever 
 experienced in her society. After a time Mrs. Graham, 
 growing weary of Charleston, where her haughty, over- 
 bearing manner made her unpopular, besought her hus- 
 band to remove, which he finally did, going to Louis- 
 ville, where he remained until the time of his removal 
 -to Woodlawn. Fully believing what the old nurse had 
 told him of the death of his wife and child, he had no 
 ■idea of the existence of the latter, though often in the 
 stillness of night the remembrance of the little girl whom 
 Durward had pointed out to him in the cars, arose be- 
 fore him, haunting him with visions of the past, but it 
 was not until he met her at Maple Grove that he enter- 
 tained a thought of her being his daughter. 
 
 From that time his whole being seemed changed, for 
 there was now an object for which to live. Carefully 
 had he guarded from his wife a knowledge of his first 
 marriage, for he dreaded her sneering reproaches, and 
 he could not hear his beloved Helena's name breathed 
 lightly by one so greatly her inferior. When he saw 
 'Lena, however, his first impulse was to clasp her in his 
 arms and compel his wife to own her, but day after day 
 went by, and he still delayed, hoping for a more favora- 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 385 
 
 ble opportunity, which never came. Had he found hei 
 in less favorable circumstances, he might have done 
 differently, but seeing only the brightest side of her life, 
 he believed her comparatively happy. She was well 
 educated, accomplished, and beautiful, and so he waited, 
 secure in the fact that he was near to see that no harm 
 should befall her. Once it occurred to him that possi- 
 bly he might die suddenly, thus leaving his relationship 
 to her a secret forever, and acting upon this thought, he 
 immediately made his will, bequeathing all to 'Lena, 
 whom he acknowledged to be his daughter, adding an 
 explanation of the whole affair, together with a most 
 touching letter to his child, who would never see it 
 until he was dead. 
 
 This done, he felt greatly relieved, and each day 
 found some good excuse for still keeping it from his 
 wife, who worried him incessantly concerning his evi- 
 dent preference for 'Lena. Many and many a time he 
 resolved to tell her all, but as often postponed the mat- 
 ter, until, with the broad Atlantic between them, he 
 ventured to write what he could not tell her verbally, 
 and, strange to say, the effect upon his wife was far 
 different from what he had expected. She did not faint, 
 for there was no one by to see her, neither did she rave, 
 for there was no one to hear her ; but with her usual in- 
 consistency, she blamed her husband for not telling her 
 before. Then came other thoughts, of a different na- 
 ture. She had helped to impair 'Lena's reputation, and 
 if disgrace attached to her, it would also fall upon her 
 own family. Consequently, as we have seen, she set 
 herself at work to atone, as far as possible, for her con- 
 duct. Her husband had given her permission to wait, 
 if she chose, until his return, ere she made the affaii 
 public and as she dreaded the remarks it would necessarily 
 Ball forth, she resolved to do so. He had advised her 
 
386 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 to tell 'Lena, but she was gone — no one knew whither, 
 and nervously she waited for some tidings of the wan- 
 derer. She was willing to receive 'Lena, but not the 
 grandmother; she was voted an intolerable nuisance, 
 who should never darken the doors of "Woodlawn — 
 never ! 
 
 Meantime Mr. Graham had again crossed the ocean, 
 landing in New York, from whence he started for 
 home, meeting, as we have seen, with a detention in 
 "Canandaigua, where he accidentally fell in with Uncle 
 Timothy, who, being minus quite a little sum of money 
 on account of his transgression, was lamenting his ill 
 fortune to one of his acquaintances, and threatening to 
 give up tavern keeping if the Maine law wasn't repealed. 
 
 "Here," said he, "it has cost me up'ards of fifty dol- 
 lars, and I'll bet I hain't sold mor'n a barrel, besides 
 what wine that Kentucky chap has bought for his gal, 
 and I suppose they call that nothin', bein' it's for sick- 
 ness. Why, good Lord, the hull on't was for medicine, 
 or chimistry, or mechanics !" 
 
 This reminded his friend to inquire after the sick 
 lady, whose name he did not remember. 
 
 "It's 'Lena," answered Uncle Timothy; "'Lena Rivers 
 that dandified chap calls her, and it's plaguy curis to me 
 what she's arunnin' away for, and he a streakin' it 
 through the country arter her; there's mischief sum- 
 mers, so I tell 'em, but that's no consarn of mine so long 
 as he pays down regular." 
 
 Mr. Graham's curiosity was instantly aroused, and 
 the moment he could speak to Uncle Timothy alone, he 
 asked what he meant by the sick lady. 
 
 In his own peculiar dialect, Uncle Timothy told all 
 he knew, adding, "A relation of yourn, mebby?" 
 
 "Yes, yes," said Mr. Graham. "Is it far to Laure* 
 Hill?" 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 387 
 
 "Better'n a dozen miles. "Was you goin' out there?" 
 
 Mr. Graham replied in the affirmative, at the same 
 time asking if he could procure a horse and carriage 
 there. 
 
 Uncle Timothy never let an opportunity pass for turn- 
 ing a penny, and now nudging Mr. Graham with his 
 elbow, he said, "Them liv'ry scamps'll charge you tew 
 dollars, at the lowest calkerlation. ' I'm goin' right out, 
 and will take you for six shillin'. What do you think?'* 
 
 Mr. Graham's thoughts were not very complimentary 
 to the shrewd Yankee, but keeping his opinion to him- 
 self, he replied that he would go, suggesting that they 
 should start immediately. 
 
 "In less than five minits. You jest set down while 
 I go to the store arter some jimcracks for the old 
 woman," said Uncle Timothy, starting up the street, 
 which was the last Mr. Graham saw of him for three 
 long hours. 
 
 At the end of that time, the little man came stubbing 
 down the walk, making many apologies, and saying 
 "he got so engaged about the darned 'liquor law,' and 
 the putty-heads that made it, that he'd no idee 'twas so 
 late." 
 
 On their way home he still continued to discourse on 
 his favorite topic, lamenting that he had voted for the 
 present governor, announcing his intention of "jinin' the 
 Hindews the fust time they met at Suckerport, " a vil- 
 lage at the foot of Honeoy lake, and stopping every 
 man whom he knew to belong to that order, to ask if 
 they took a fee, and if "there was any bedivelment of 
 gridirons and goats, such as the Masons and Odd Fel- 
 lers had !" Being repeatedly assured that the fee was 
 only a dollar, and that the initiatory process was not 
 very painful, he concluded "to go it, provided they'd 
 promise to run him for constable. Office is the hull any 
 
388 ''LENA RIVERS. 
 
 of the buggers jine 'em for, and I may as well go in foif 
 
 a, sheer," said he, thinking if he could not have the 
 privilege of selling liquor, he would at least secure the 
 right of arresting those who drank it ! 
 
 In this way his progress homeward was not very 
 rapid, and the clock had struck ten long ere they 
 reached the inn, which they found still and dark, save 
 the light which was kept burning in 'Lena's room. 
 
 "That's her chamber — the young gal's — where you 
 see the candle," said Uncle Timothy, as they drew up 
 before the huge walls of the tavern. "I guess you 
 won't want to disturb her to-night. " 
 
 "Certainly not," answered Mr. Graham, adding, as 
 he felt a twinge of his inveterate habit of secrecy, "If 
 you'd just as lief, you need not speak of me to the 
 young gentleman ; I wish to take him by surprise" — 
 meaning Durward. 
 
 There was no particular necessity for this caution, for 
 Uncle Timothy was too much absorbed in his loss to 
 think of anything else, and when his wife asked "who 
 it was that he lighted up to bed," he replied, "A chap 
 that wanted to come out this way, and so rid with me." 
 
 Mr. Graham was very tired, and now scarcely had 
 his head pressed the pillow ere he was asleep, dreaming 
 of 'Lena, whose presence was to shed such a halo of 
 sunlight over his hitherto cheerless home. The ringing 
 of the bell next morning failed to arouse him, but when 
 Mrs. Aldergrass, noticing his absence from the table, 
 inquired for him, Uncle Timothy answered, "Never 
 mind, let him sleep — tuckered out, mebby — and you 
 know we alius have a sixpence more for an extra meal !" 
 
 About eight Mr. Graham arose, and after a more 
 than usually careful toilet, he sat down to collect hia 
 scattered thoughts, for now that the interview was so 
 near, his ideas seemed suddenly to forsake him. From 
 
-LENA RIVERS. 383 
 
 the window he saw Durward depart for his walk 
 watching him until he disappeared in the dim shadow 
 of the woods. 
 
 "I will wait until his return, and let him tell her," 
 thought he ; but when a half hour or more went by and 
 Durward did not come, he concluded to go down and 
 ask to see her by himself. 
 
 In order to do this, it was necessary for him to pass 
 'Lena's room, the door of which was ajar. She was 
 awake, and hearing his step, thought it was Mrs. Alder- 
 grass, and called to her. A thrill of exquisite delight 
 ran through his frame at the sound of her voice, and 
 for an instant he debated the propriety of going to her 
 at once. A second call decided him, and in a moment 
 he was at her bedside, clasping her in his arms, and 
 exclaiming, "My precious 'Lena! My daughter! Has 
 nothing ever told you that I am your father, the hus- 
 band of your angel mother, who lives again in her child 
 — my child — my 'Lena?" 
 
 For a moment 'Lena's brain grew dizzy, and she had 
 well-nigh fainted, when the sound of Mr. Graham's 
 voice again brought her back to consciousness. Press- 
 ing his lips to her white brow, he said, "Speak to me, 
 my daughter Say that you receive me as your father, 
 for such I am. " 
 
 With lightning rapidity 'Lena's thoughts traversed 
 the past, whose dark mystery was now made plain, and 
 as the thought that it might be so — that it was so — 
 flashed upon her, she clasped her hands together, ex- 
 claiming, " My father! Is it true? You are not deceiv- 
 ing me?" 
 
 "Deceive you, darling? — no," said he. "I am your 
 father, and Helena Nichols was my wife. " 
 
 "Why then did you leave her? Why have you so 
 long left me unacknowledged?" asked 'Lena, 
 
390 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 Mr. Graham groaned bitterly. The hardest part was 
 yet to come, but he met it manfully, telling her the 
 whole story, sparing not himself in the least, and end- 
 ing by asking if, after all this, she could forgive and 
 love him as her father. 
 
 Raising herself in bed, 'Lena wound her arms around 
 his neck and laying her face against his, wept like a 
 little child. He felt that he was sufficiently answered, 
 and holding her closer to his bosom, he pushed back the 
 clustering curls, kissing her again and again, while he 
 said aloud, "I have your answer, dearest one; we will 
 never be parted again." 
 
 So absorbed was he in his newly recovered treasure 
 that he did not observe the fiery eye, the glittering 
 teeth, and clinched fist of Durward Bellmont, who had 
 returned from his walk, and who, in coming up to his 
 room, had recognized the tones of his father's voice. 
 Recoiling backward a step or two, he was just in time 
 to see 'Lena as she threw herself into Mr. Graham's 
 arms — in time to hear the tender words of endearment 
 lavished upon her by his father ! Staggering backward, 
 he caught at the banister to keep from falling, while a 
 moan of anguish came from his ashen lips. Alone in 
 his room, he grew calmer, though his heart still quiv- 
 ered with unutterable agony as he strode up and down 
 the room, exclaiming, as he had done once before, "I 
 would far rather see her dead than thus — my lost, lost 
 'Lena!" 
 
 Then, in the deep bitterness of his spirit he cursed his 
 father, whom he believed to be far more guilty than 
 she. "I cannot meet him," thought he; "there is mur- 
 der at my heart, and I must away ere he knows of my 
 presence. " 
 
 Suiting the action to the word, he hastened down the 
 stairs, glancing back once, and seeing 'Lena reclining 
 
'LEX RIVERS. 391 
 
 upon his father's arm, while her eyes were raised to hig 
 with a sweet, confiding smile, which told of perfect 
 happiness. 
 
 "Thank God that I am unarmed, else he come not 
 live," thought he, hurrying into the bar-room, where he- 
 placed in Uncle Timothy's hands double the sum due 
 for himself and 'Lena, and then, without a word of ex- 
 planation, he walked away. 
 
 He was a good pedestrian, and preferring solitude hi 
 his present state of feeling, he determined to go on foot 
 to Canandaigua, a distance of little more than a dozen 
 miles. Meantime, Mr. Graham was learning from 
 'Lena the cause of her being there, and though she, as 
 far as possible, softened the fact of his having been 
 accessory to her misfortunes, he felt it none the less 
 keenly, and would frequently interrupt her with the 
 exclamation that it was the result of his cowardice — his 
 despicable habit of secrecy. When she spoke of the 
 curl which his wife had burned, he seemed deeply 
 affected, groaning aloud as he hid his face in his hands. 
 
 "And she found it — she burned it," said he; and it 
 was all I had left of my Helena. I cut it from her head 
 on the morning of my departure, when she lay sleeping, 
 little dreaming of my cruel desertion. But," he added, 
 "I can bear it better now that I have you, her living 
 image, for what she was when last I saw her, you are 
 now." 
 
 Their conversation then turned upon Durward, and 
 with the tact he so well knew how to employ, Mr. 
 Graham drew from his blushing daughter a confession 
 of the love she bore him. 
 
 "He is worthy of you," said he, while 'Lena, without 
 seeming to heed the remark, said, "I have not seen him 
 yet, but I am expecting him every moment, for he waa 
 to visit me this morning " 
 
392 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 At this juncture Mrs. Aldergrass, who had been at 
 one of her neighbor's, came in, appearing greatly sur< 
 prised at the sight of the stranger, whom 'Lena quietly 
 introduced as "her father," while Mr. Graham colored 
 painfully as Mrs. Aldergrass, curtsying very low, 
 hoped Mr. Rivers was well ! 
 
 "Let it go so," whispered 'Lena, as she saw her father 
 about to speak. 
 
 Mr. Graham complied and then observing how anxi- 
 ously his daughter's eyes sought the doorway, whenever 
 a footstep was heard, he asked Mrs. Aldergrass for Mr. 
 Bellmont, saying they would like to see him, if he had 
 returned. 
 
 Quickly going downstairs, Mrs. Aldergrass soon 
 came back announcing that "he'd paid his bill and gone 
 off." 
 
 "Gone!" said Mr. Graham. "There must be some 
 mistake. I will go down and inquire. " 
 
 "With his hand in his pocket grasping the purse con- 
 taining the gold, Uncle Timothy told all he knew, add- 
 ing that "'twan't noways likely but he'd come back agin, 
 for he'd left things in his room to the vally of five or 
 six dollars." 
 
 Upon reflection, Mr. Graham concluded so, too, and 
 returning to 'Lena, he sat by her all day, soothing hei 
 with assurances that Durward would surely come back, 
 as there was no possible reason for his leaving them so 
 abruptly. As the day wore away and the night came 
 on, he seemed less sure, while even Uncle Timothy be- 
 gan to fidget, and when in the evening a young petti- 
 fogger, who had recently hung out his shingle on 
 Laurel Hill came in, he asked him, in a low tone, "if 
 under the present governor, they hung folks on circum- 
 stantial evidence alone." 
 
 "Unquestionably, for that is sometimes the best kind 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 393 
 
 of evidence," answered the sprig of the law, taking out 
 some little ivory tablets and making a charge against 
 Uncle Timothy for professional advice ! 
 
 "But if one of my boarders, who has lots of money, 
 goes off in broad daylight and is never heard of agin, 
 would that be any sign he was murdered — by the land- 
 lord?" continued Uncle Timothy, beginning to thin& 
 there might be a worse law than the Maine liquor law. 
 
 "That depends upon the previous character of the 
 landlord," answered the lawyer, making another entry, 
 while Uncle Timothy, brightening up, exclaimed, "I 
 shall stand the racket, then, for my character is tip-top." 
 
 In the morning Mr. Graham announced his intention 
 of going in quest of Durward, and with a magnanimity 
 quite praiseworthy, Uncle Timothy offered his hoss and 
 wagon for nothin', provided Mr. Graham would leave 
 his watch as a guaranty against his runnin' off !" 
 
 Just as Mr. Graham was about to start, a horseman 
 rode up, saying he had come from Canandaigua at the 
 request of a Mr. Bellmont, who wished him to bring 
 letters for Mr. Graham and Miss Rivers. 
 
 "And where is Mr. Bellmont?" asked Mr. Graham, 
 to which the man replied, that he took the 6 o'clock 
 train the night before, saying, further, that his manner 
 was so strange as to induce a suspicion of insanity on 
 the part of those who saw him. 
 
 Taking the package, Mr. Graham repaired to 'Lena's 
 room, giving her her letter, and then reading his, which 
 was full of bitterness, denouncing him as a villain, and 
 cautioning him, as he valued his life, never again to 
 cross the track of his outraged stepson. 
 
 "You have robbed me," he wrote, "of all i hold most 
 dear ; and while I do not censure her the less, I blame 
 you the more, for you are older in experience, older in 
 years, and ten-fold older in sin, and I know you mus* 
 
394 *LENA RIVERS. 
 
 iave used every art your foul nature could suggest ere 
 you won my lost 'Lena from the path of rectitude. " 
 
 In the utmost astonishment Mr. Graham looked up 
 at 'Lena, who had fainted. It was long ere she re- 
 turned to consciousness, and then her fainting fit was 
 followed by another more severe, if possible, than the 
 first, while in speechless agony Mr. Graham hung over 
 her. 
 
 "I killed the mother., and now I am killing the child," 
 thought he. 
 
 But at last 'Lena seemed better, and taking from the 
 pillow the crumpled note, she passed it toward her 
 father, bidding him read it. It was as follows : 
 
 "My Lost Lena: By this title it seems appropriate 
 for me to call you, for you are more surely lost to me 
 than you would be were this summer sun shining upon 
 your grave. And, Lena, believe me when I say I 
 would rather, far rather, see you dead than the guilty 
 thing you are, for then your memory would be to me as 
 a holy, blessed influence, leading me on to a better 
 world, where I could hope to greet you as my spirit 
 bride. But now, alas! how dark the cloud which 
 shrouds you from my sight. 
 
 "Gh, 'Lena, 'Lena, how could you deceive me thus, 
 when I thought you so pure and innocent, when even 
 now, I would willingly lay down my life could that 
 save you from ruin, 
 
 "Do you ask what I mean? I have only to refer you 
 to what this morning took place between you and the 
 vile man I once called father, and whom I believed to 
 be the soul of truth and honor. With a heart full of 
 •tenderness toward you, I was hastening to your side, 
 when a scene met my view which stilled the beatings of 
 my pulse and curdled the very blood in my veins. I 
 saw you throw your arms around his neck — the hus- 
 band of my mother. I saw you lay your head upon his 
 bosom. I heard him as he called you dearest, and said 
 you would never be parted again ! 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 395 
 
 **You know all that has passed heretofore, and can 
 you wonder that my worst fears are now confirmed? 
 God knows how I struggled against those doubts which 
 were nearly removed, when, by the evidence of my own 
 eyesight, uncertainty was made sure. 
 
 "And now, my once loved, but erring 'Lena, fare- 
 well. I am going away — whither, I know not, care not, 
 so that I never hear your name coupled with disgrace. 
 Another reason why I go, is that the hot blood of the 
 south burns too fiercely in my veins to suffer me to 
 meet your destroyer and not raise my hand against him. 
 When this reaches you, I shall be far away. But what 
 matters it to you? And yet, 'Lena, there will come a 
 time when you'll remember one who, had you remained 
 true to yourself, would have devoted his life to make 
 you happy, for I know I am not indifferent to you. I 
 have read it in your speaking eye, and in the child-like 
 confidence with which you would yield to me when no 
 one else could control your wild ravings. 
 
 "But enough of this. Time hastens, and I must say 
 farewell — farewell forever — my lost, lost 'Lena ! 
 
 "DlJRWARD." 
 
 Gradually as Mr. Graham read, he felt a glow of in- 
 dignation at Durward's hastiness. "Rash boy! he 
 might at least have spoken with me," said he, as he 
 finished the letter, but 'Lena would hear no word of 
 censure against him. She did not blame him. She 
 saw it all, understood it all, and as she recalled the con- 
 tents of his letter, her own heart sadly echoed, "lost 
 forever." 
 
 As well as he was able, Mr. Graham tried to comfort 
 her, but in spite of his endeavors, there was still at her 
 heart the same dull, heavy pain, and most anxiously 
 Mr. Graham watched her, waiting impatiently for the 
 time when she would be able to start for home, as he 
 hoped a change of place and scene would do much 
 toward restoring both her health and spirits. Soon 
 after his arrival at Laurel Hill, Mr. Graham had writ- 
 
396 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 ten to Mr. Livingstone, telling him what he had before 
 told his wife, and adding, "Of course, my daughter's 
 home will in future be with me, at Woodlawn, where I 
 shall be happy to see yourself and family at any time. '' 
 
 This part of the letter he showed to 'Lena, who, after 
 reading it, seemed for a long time absorbed in thought. 
 
 "What is it, darling? Of what are you thinking?" 
 Mr. Graham asked at length, and 'Lena, taking the 
 hand which he had laid gently upon her forehead, 
 replied : 
 
 "I am thinking of poor grandmother. She is not 
 happy, now, at Maple Grove. She will be more un- 
 happy should I leave her, and if you please, I would 
 rather stay there with her. I can see you every day. " 
 
 "Do you suppose me cruel enough to separate you 
 from your grandmother?" interrupted Mr. Graham. 
 "No, no, I am not quite so bad as that. Woodlawn is 
 large — there are rooms enough — and grandma shall have 
 her choice, provided it is a reasonable one. " 
 
 "And your wife — Mrs. Graham? What will she 
 say?" timidly inquired 'Lena, involuntarily shrinking 
 from the very thought of coming in contact with the 
 little lady, who had so recently come up before her in 
 the new and formidable aspect of step-mother! 
 
 Mr. Graham did not know himself what she would 
 say, neither did he care. The fault of his youth once 
 confessed, he felt himself a new man, able to cope with 
 almost anything, and if in the future his wife objected 
 to what he knew to be right, it would do her no good, 
 for henceforth he was to rule his own house. Some 
 such thoughts passed through his mind, but it would 
 not be proper, he knew, to express himself thus to 'Lena, 
 so he laughingly replied : 
 
 "Oh, we'll fix that easily enough." 
 
 At the time he wrote to Mr. Livingstone, he had also 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 39? 
 
 sent a letter to his wife, announcing his safe return from 
 Europe, and saying that he should be at home as soon 
 as Lena's health would admit of her traveling. Not 
 wishing to alarm her unnecessarily, he merely said of: 
 Durward, that he had found him at Laurel Hill. To 
 this letter Mrs. Graham replied immediately, and with 
 a far better grace than her husband had expected. 
 "Very frankly she confessed the unkind part she had 
 acted toward 'Lena, and while she said she was sorry, 
 she also spoke of the reaction which had taken place in 
 the minds of 'Lena's friends, who, she said, would 
 gladly welcome her back. 
 
 The continued absence of Durward was now the only 
 drawback to 'Lena's happiness, and with a compara- 
 tively light heart she began to anticipate her journey 
 home. Most liberally did Mr. Graham pay for both 
 himself and 'Lena, and Uncle Timothy, as he counted 
 the shining coin, dropping it upon the table to make 
 sure it was not bogus, felt quite reconciled to his recent 
 loss of fifty dollars. Jerry, the driver, was also gener- 
 ously rewarded for his kindness to the stranger-girl, 
 and just before he left, Mr. Graham offered to make 
 him his chief overseer, if he would accompany him to 
 Kentucky. 
 
 "You are just the man I want," said he, "and I 
 know you'll like it. What do you say?" 
 
 For the sake of occasionally seeing 'Lena whom he 
 considered as something more than mortal, Jerry would 
 gladly have gone, but he was a staunch abolitionist, 
 dyed in the wool, and scratching his head, he replied, 
 "I'm obleeged to you, but I b'lieve I'd rather drive 
 hosses than niggers!" 
 
 "Mebby you could run one on 'em off, and so make a 
 little sumthin'," slyly whispered Uncle Timothy, his 
 eyes always on the main chance, but it was no part of 
 
398 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 Jerry's creed to make anything, and as 'Lena at that 
 moment appeared, he beat a precipitate retreat, going 
 out behind the church, where he watched the departure 
 of his Southern friends, saying afterward, to Mrs. 
 Aldergrass, who chided him for his conduct, that "he 
 never could bid nobody good-by, he was so darned ten- 
 der-hearted I" 
 
XENA RIVERS- 399 
 
 CHAPTER XXXY, 
 
 EXCITEMENT AT MAPLE GROVE., 
 
 G€ 9 Lena been gone four weeks and father never 
 stirred a peg after her! That is smart, I must say. 
 Why didn't you let me know it before I" exclaimed John 
 Jr. ? as he one morning unexpectedly made his appear- 
 ance at Maple Grove. 
 
 During his absence Carrie had been his only corre- 
 spondent, and for some reason or other she delayed tell- 
 ing him of 'Lena's flight until quite recently. Instantly 
 forgetting his resolution of not returning for a year, he 
 came home with headlong haste, determining to start 
 immediately after his cousin. 
 
 "I reckon if you knew all that has been said about 
 her, you wouldn't feel quite so anxious to get her back," 
 said Carrie. "For my part, I feel quite relieved at her 
 absence." 
 
 "Shut up your head," roared John Jr. " 'Lena is 
 no more guilty than you. By George, I 'most cried 
 when I heard how nobly she worked to save Anna from 
 old Baldhead. And this is her reward! Gracious 
 Peter I I sometimes wish there wasn't a woman in the 
 world!" 
 
 "If they'd all marry you, there wouldn't be longf 
 retorted Carrie. 
 
 "You've said it now, haven't you?" answered John 
 Jr., while his father suggested that they stop quarrel- 
 ing, adding, as an apology for his own neglect, that 
 
400 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 Durward bad gone after 'Lena, who was probably at 
 Mr. Everett's, and that he himself had advertised in all 
 the principal papers. 
 
 "Just like Bellmont! He's a fine fellow and deserves 
 'Lena, if anybody does," exclaimed John Jr., while 
 Carrie chimed in : 
 
 "Pshaw! I've no idea he's gone for her. Why, 
 they've hardly spoken for several months, and besides 
 that, Mrs. Graham will never suffer him to marry one 
 of so low origin. " 
 
 "The deary me!" said John Jr., mimicking his sister's 
 manner; "how much lower is her origin than yours?" 
 
 Carrie's reply was prevented by the appearance of her 
 grandmother, who, hearing that John Jr. was there 
 had hobbled in to see him. Perfectly rational on all 
 other subjects, Mrs. Nichols still persisted in saying of 
 'Lena, that she had killed her, and now, when her first 
 greeting with John Jr. was over, she whispered in his 
 ear, "Have they told you 'Leny was dead? She is — I 
 killed her — it says so here," and she handed him the 
 almost worn-out note which she constantly carried with 
 her. Rough as he seemed at times, there was in John 
 Jr. 's nature many a tender spot, and when he saw the 
 look of childish imbecility on his grandmother's face, he 
 pressed his strong arm around her, and a tear actually 
 dropped upon her gray hair as he told her 'Lena was 
 not dead — he was going to find her and bring her home. 
 At that moment old Csesar, who had been to the post 
 office, returned, bringing Mr. Graham's letter, which 
 had just arrived. 
 
 "That's Mr. Graham's handwriting," said Carrie, 
 glancing at the superscription. "Perhaps he knows 
 something of 'Lena !" and she looked meaningly at her 
 mother, who, with a peculiar twist of her mouth, re- 
 plied: 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 401 
 
 " Very likely." 
 
 "You are right. He does know something of her,'* 
 said Mr. Livingstone, as he finished reading the letter, 
 "She is with him at a little village called Laurel Hill, 
 somewhere in New York. " 
 
 "There! I told you so. Poor Mrs. Graham. It will 
 kill her. I must go and see her immediately," ex- 
 claimed Mrs. Livingstone, settling herself hack quite 
 composedly in her chair, while Carrie, turning to her 
 brother, asked "what he thought of 'Lena now." 
 
 "Just what I always did," he replied. "There's 
 fraud somewhere. Will you let me see that, sir?'' ad- 
 vancing toward his father, who, placing the letter in his 
 hand, walked to the window to hide the varied emotions 
 of his face. 
 
 Rapidly John Jr. perused it, comprehending the 
 whole; then, when it was finished, he seized his hat, 
 and throwing it up in the air, shouted, "Hurrah! Hur- 
 rah for Miss 'Lena Rivers Graham, daughter of the 
 Honorable Harry Rivers Graham. I was never so glad 
 in my life. Hurrah !" and again the hat went up, up- 
 setting in its descent a costly vase, the fragments of 
 which followed in the direction of the hat, as the young 
 man capered about the room, perfectly insane with joy. 
 
 "Is the boy crazy?" asked Mrs. Livingstone, catching 
 him by the coat as he passed her, while Carrie attempted 
 to snatch the letter from his hand. 
 
 ' ' Crazy? — yes, " said he. * ' What do you think 'Lena's 
 father is? No less a person than Mr. Graham himself ! 
 Now taunt her again, Cad, with her low origin, if you 
 like. She isn't coming here to live any more. She's 
 going to Woodlawn. She'll marry Durward, while 
 you'll be a cross, dried-up old maid, e\ Cad?" and he 
 chucked her under the chin, while she began to cry 3 
 bidding him let her alone. 
 
402 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 "What do you mean?" interposed Mrs. Livingstone^ 
 trembling lest it might be true. 
 
 "I will read the letter and you can judge for your- 
 self," replied John. 
 
 Both Carrie and her mother were too much astonished 
 to utter a syllable, while, in their hearts, each hoped it 
 would prove untrue. Bending forward, grandma had 
 listened eagerly, her dim eye lighting up as she occa- 
 sionally caught the meaning of what she heard ; but she 
 could not understand it at once, and turning to her son, 
 she said: "What is it, John? what does it mean?" 
 
 As well as they could, Mr. Livingstone and John Jr. 
 explained it to her, and when at length she compre- 
 hended it, in her own peculiar way she exclaimed, 
 "Thank God that 'Leny is a lady, at last — as good as 
 the biggest on 'em. Oh, I wish Helleny had lived to 
 know who her husband was. Poor critter! Mebby 
 he'll give me money to go back and see the old place, 
 once more before I die. " 
 
 "If he don't I will," said Mr, Livingstone, upon 
 which his wife, who had not spoken before, wondered 
 where he'd get it. " 
 
 By this time Carrie had comforted herself with the 
 assurance that as 'Lena was now Durward's sister, he 
 would not, of course, marry her, and determining to 
 make the best of it, she replied to her brother, -who 
 rallied her on her crest-fallen looks, that he was greatly 
 mistaken, for "she was as pleased as any one at 'Lena's 
 good fortune, but it did not follow that she must make 
 a fool of herself, as some others did. " 
 
 The closing part of this remark was lost on John Jr., 
 who had left the room. In the first excitement, he had 
 thought, "how glad Nellie will be," and acting, as he 
 generally did upon impulse, he now ordered his horse, 
 and dashing off at full speed, as usual, surprised Nellie* 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 403 
 
 first with his sudden appearance, second, with his an« 
 nouncement of 'Lena's parentage, and third, by an offer 
 of himself ! 
 
 "It's your destiny," said he, "and it's of no use to re- 
 sist. What did poor little Meb die for, if it wasn't to 
 make room for you. So you may as well say yes first 
 as last. I'm odd, I know, but you can fix me over. 
 I'll do exactly what you wish me to. Say yes, Nellie, 
 won't you?" 
 
 And Nellie did say yes, wondering, the while, if ever 
 before woman had such wooing. We think not, for 
 never was there another John Jr. 
 
 "I have had happiness enough for one day," said he, 
 kissing her blushing cheek and hurrying away. 
 
 As if every hitherto neglected duty were now sud- 
 denly remembered, he went straight from Mr. Douglass' 
 to the marble factory, where he ordered a costly stone 
 for the little grave on the sunny slope, as yet unmarked 
 save by the tall grass and rank weeds which grew 
 above it. 
 
 "What inscription will you have?" asked the engraver. 
 
 John Jr. thought for a moment, and then replied, 
 "Simply 'Mabel.' Nothing more nor less; that tells the 
 whole story," and involuntarily murmuring to himself, 
 "Poor little Meb, I wish she knew how happy I am," 
 he started for home, where he was somewhat surprised 
 to find Mrs, Graham. 
 
 She had also received a letter from her husband, and 
 deeming secrecy no longer advisable, had come over to 
 Maple Grove, where to her great satisfaction, she found 
 that the news had preceded her. Feeling sure that 
 Mrs. Graham must feel greatly annoyed, both Carrie 
 and her mother began, at first, to act tne part of con- 
 solers, telling her it might not be true, after all, for per- 
 haps it was a ruse of Mr. Graham's to cover some deep- 
 
404 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 laid scheme. But feu once in her life Mrs. Graham 
 did we'll, and to their astonishment, eplied, "Oh, I 
 hope not, for you do not know how I long for the society 
 of a daughter, and as Mr. Graham's child I shall gladly 
 welcome 'Lena home, trying, if possible, to overlook 
 the vulgarity of her family friends. " 
 
 Though wincing terribly, neither Mrs. Livingstone 
 nor her daughter were to be outgeneralled. If Mrs. 
 Graham could so soon change her tactics, so could they, 
 and for the next half hour they lauded 'Lena to the 
 skies. They had always liked her — particularly Mrs. 
 Livingstone — who said, "If allowed to speak my mind, 
 Mrs. Graham, I must say that I have felt a good deal 
 pained by those reports which you put in circulation. " 
 
 "/put reports in circulation!" retorted Mrs. Graham. 
 "What do you mean? It was yourself, madam, as I 
 can prove by the whole neighborhood !" 
 
 The war of words was growing sharper and more 
 personal, when John Jr. 's appearance put an end to it, 
 and the two ladies, thinking they might as well be 
 friends as enemies, introduced another topic of conver- 
 sation, soon after which Mrs. Graham took her leave. 
 Pausing in the doorway, she said, "Would it afford you 
 any gratification to be at Woodlawn when 'Lena 
 arrives?" 
 
 Knowing that, under the circumstances, it would look 
 better, Mrs. Livingstone said "yes, "while Carrie, think- 
 ing Durward would be there, made a similar reply, say- 
 ing "she was exceedingly anxious to see her cousin." 
 
 "Very well. I will let you know when I expect 
 her," said Mrs. Graham, curtsying herself from the 
 room. 
 
 "Spell Toady, Cad," whispered John Jr., and with 
 more than her usual quickness, Carrie replied, by doing 
 as he desired. 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 405 
 
 "That'll do," said he, as he walked off to the back 
 yard, where he found the younger portion of the blacks 
 engaged in a rather novel employment for them. 
 
 The news of 'Lena's good fortune had reached the 
 kitchen, causing much excitement, for she was a favor- 
 ite there. 
 
 " 'Oar for't," said Aunt Milly, "we orto have a bon* 
 fire. It won't hurt nothin' on the brick pavement.'* 
 
 Accordingly, as it was now dark, the children were 
 set at work gathering blocks, chips, sticks, dried twigs, 
 and leaves, and by the time John Jr. appeared, they 
 had collected quite a pile. Not knowing how he would 
 like it, they all took to their heels, except Thomas 
 Jefferson, who, having some of his mother's spirit, stood 
 his ground, replying, when asked what they were about, 
 that they were "gwine to celebrate Miss 'Lena.'' Tak- 
 ing in the whole fun at once, John Jr. called out : 
 
 "Good! come back here you scapegraces." 
 
 Scarcely had he uttered these words, when from be- 
 hind the ley-leach, the smoke-house, and the trees, 
 emerged the little darkies, their eyes and ivories shining 
 with the expected frolic. Taught by John Jr., they 
 hurrahed at the top of their voices when the flames burst 
 up, and one little fellow, not yet able to talk plain, 
 made his bare, shining legs fly like drumsticks as he 
 shouted, "Huyah for Miss 'Leny Yivers Gayum " 
 
 "Bellmont too, say," whispered John Jr., as he saw 
 Carrie on the back piazza. 
 
 "Bellmont too, say!" yelled the youngster, leaping so 
 high as to lose his balance. 
 
 Rolling over the greensward like a ball, he landed at 
 the feet of Carrie, who, spurning him as she would a 
 toad, went back to the parlor, where for more than an 
 hour she cried from pure vexation. 
 
406 *LENA RIVERS. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVL 
 
 ARRIVAL AT WOODLAWN. 
 
 It was a warm September night at Woodlawn. The 
 windows were open, and through the richly-wrought 
 curtains the balmy air of evening was stealing, mingling 
 its delicious perfume of flowers without with the odor 
 of those which drooped from the many costly vases 
 which adorned the handsome parlors. Lamps were 
 burning, casting a mellow light over the gorgeous fur- 
 niture, while in robes of snowy white the mistress of the 
 mansion flitted from room to room, a little nervous, a 
 little fidgety, and, without meaning to be so, a little 
 cross. For more than two hours she had waited for 
 her husband, delaying the supper, which the cook, quite 
 as anxious as herself, pronounced spoiled by the delay. 
 
 According to promise, the party from Maple Grove 
 had arrived, with the exception of John Jr., who had 
 generously remained with his grandmother, she having 
 been purposely omitted in the invitation. From the 
 first Mrs. Graham had decided that Mrs. Nichols should 
 never live at Woodlawn, and she thought it proper to 
 have it understood at once. Accordingly, as she was 
 conducting Mrs. Livingstone and Carrie to 'Lena's 
 room, she casually remarked, "I've made no provision 
 for Mrs. Nichols, except as an occasional visitor, for of 
 course she will remain with her son. She is undoubt- 
 edly much attached to youi family, and will be happier 
 there I" 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 407 
 
 "This 'Lena's!" interrupted Carrie, ere her mother 
 had time to reply. "It's the very best chamber in the 
 bouse — Brussels carpets, marble and rosewood furni- 
 ture, damask curtains. Why, she'll hardly know how 
 to act," she continued, half unconsciously, as she gazed 
 around the elegant apartment, which with one of her 
 unaccountable freaks, Mrs. Graham had fitted up with 
 the utmost taste. 
 
 "Yes, this is 'Lena's," said Mrs. Graham, compla- 
 cently. "Will it compare at all with her chamber at 
 Maple Grove? I do not wish it to seem inferior !" 
 
 "Carrie bit her lip, while her mother very coolly re- 
 plied, "Ye-es, on the whole guite as good, perhaps bet- 
 ter, as some of the furniture is new !" 
 
 "Have I told you," continued Mrs. Graham, bent on 
 tormenting them, "Have I told you that we are to 
 spend the winter in New Orleans, where 'Lena will of 
 course be the reigning belle? You ought to be there, 
 dear, "laying her hand on Carrie's shoulder. "It would 
 be so gratifying to you to witness the sensation she will 
 create !" 
 
 "Spiteful old thing — she tries to insult us," thought 
 Carrie, her heart swelling with bitterness toward the 
 ever-hated 'Lena, whose future life seemed so bright 
 and joyous. The sound of wheels was now heard, and 
 the ladies reached the lower hall just as the carriage, 
 which had been sent to the station at Midway, drove up 
 at a side door. Carrie's first thought was for Durward, 
 and shading her eyes with her hand, she looked anxi- 
 ously out. But only Mr. Graham alighted, gently lift- 
 ing out his daughter, who was still an invalid. 
 
 "Mighty careful of her," thought Mrs. Livingstone, 
 as in his arms he bore her up the marble steps. 
 
 Depositing her in their midst, and placing his arm 
 around her, he said, turning to his wife, "Lucy, this m 
 
408 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 my daughter. Will you receive and love her as suck, 
 for my sake?" 
 
 In a moment 'Lena's soft, white hand lay in the fa\ 
 chubby one of Mrs. Graham who kissed her pale cheek, 
 calling her " 'Lena," and saying "she was welcome to 
 Woodlawn." 
 
 Mrs. Livingstone and Carrie now pressed forward^ 
 overwhelming her with caresses, telling her how badly 
 they had felt at her absence, chiding her for running 
 away, calling her a naughty puss, and perfectly bewil- 
 dering her with their new mode of conduct. Mr. Liv- 
 ingstone's turn came next, but he neither kissed nor 
 caressed her, for that was not in keeping with his na- 
 ture, but very, very tenderly he looked into her eyes, as 
 he said, "You know, 'Lena, that /am glad— most glad 
 for you. " 
 
 Unostentatious as was this greeting, 'Lena felt that 
 there was more sincerity in it than all that had gone be- 
 fore, and the tears gushed forth involuntarily. Men- 
 tally styling her, the one "a baby," and the other "a 
 fool," Mrs. Livingstone and Carrie returned to the par- 
 lor, while Mrs. Graham, calling a servant, bade her 
 show 'Lena to her room. 
 
 "Hadn't you better go up and assist your cousin," 
 whispered Mrs. Livingstone to Carrie, who forthwith 
 departed, knocking at the door, an act of politeness she 
 had never before thought it necessary to offer 'Lena. 
 But she was an heiress, now fully, yes, more than 
 equal, and that made a vast difference. 
 
 "I came to see if I could render you any service," she 
 said, in answer to 'Lena's look of inquiry. 
 
 "No, I thank you," returned 'Lena, beginning to get 
 an inkling of the truth. "You know I'm accustomed 
 to waiting upon myself, and if I want anything, Drusa 
 can assist me. I've only to change my soiled dress and 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 409 
 
 smooth my hair," she continued, as she shook out her 
 long and now rather rough tresses. 
 
 "What handsome hair you've got," said Carrie, tak- 
 ing one of the curls in her hand. "I'd forgotten it was 
 so beautiful. Hasn't it improved during your absence?" 
 
 "A course of fever is not usually very beneficial to 
 one's hair, I believe," answered 'Lena, as she proceeded 
 to brush and arrange her wavy locks, which really had 
 lost some of their luster. 
 
 Foiled in her attempt at toadyism, Carrie took an- 
 other tack. Looking 'Lena in the face, she said, 
 "What is it? I can't make it out, but — but somehow 
 you've changed ; you don't look so — so " 
 
 "So well, you would say, I suppose," returned 'Lena, 
 laughingly, "I've grown thin, but I hope to improve by- 
 and-by." 
 
 Drusa glanced at the two girls as they stood side by 
 side, and her large eyes sparkled as she thought her 
 young mistress "a heap the best lookin' now." 
 
 By this time Carrie had thought to ask for Durward. 
 Instantly, 'Lena turned whiter, if possible, than she was 
 before, and in an unsteady voice she replied, that "she 
 did not know." 
 
 "Not know!" repeated Carrie, her own countenance 
 brightening visibly. "Haven't you seen him? Wasn't 
 he at that funny, out-of-the-way place, where you 
 were?" 
 
 "Yes, but he left before I saw him," returned 'Lena, 
 her manner plainly indicating that there was something 
 wrong. 
 
 Carrie's spirits rose. There was a chance for her, 
 and on their way downstairs she laughed and chatted so 
 familiarly, that 'Lena wondered if it could be the same 
 haughty girl who had seldom spoken to her except to 
 repulse or command her. The supper-bell rang just as 
 
410 * 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 they reached the parlor, and Mr. Graham, taking 'Lena 
 on his arm, led the way to the dining room, where the 
 entire silver tea set had been brought out, in honor of 
 the occasion. 
 
 "Hasn't 'Lena changed, mother?" said Carrie, feeling 
 hateful and knowing no better way of showing it. 
 "Hasn't her sickness changed her?" 
 
 "It has made her grow old; that's all the difference I 
 perceive," returned Mrs. Livingstone, satisfied that she'd 
 said the thing which she knew would most annoy her- 
 self. 
 
 "How old are you dear," asked Mrs. Graham, lean- 
 ing across the table. 
 
 "Eighteen," fras Lena's answer, to which Mrs. Gra- 
 ham replied : 
 
 "I thought so. Three years younger than Carrie, I 
 believe." 
 
 "Two, only two," interrupted Mrs. Livingstone, 
 while Carrie exclaimed, "Horrors! How old do you 
 take me to be. " 
 
 Adroitly changing the conversation, Mrs. Graham 
 made no reply, and soon after they rose from the table. 
 Scarcely had they returned to the parlor, when John 
 Jr. was announced. "He had," he said, "got his 
 grandmother to sleep and put her to bed, and now he 
 had come to pay his respects to Miss Graham. " 
 
 Catching her in his arms he exclaimed : "Little girl! 
 I'm as much delighted with your good fortune .as I 
 should be had it happened to myself. But where is 
 Bellmont?" he continued, looking about the room. 
 
 Mr. Graham replied that he was not there. 
 
 "Not here?" repeated John Jr. "What have you 
 done with him, 'Lena?" 
 
 Lifting her eyes, full of tears, to her cousin's face, 
 'Lena said softly, "Please don't talk about it now." 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 411 
 
 "There's something wrong, ' thought John Jr. "I'll 
 bet I'll have to shoot that dog yet. " 
 
 'Lena longed to pour out her troubles to some one, 
 and knowing she could confide in John Jr. , she soon 
 found an opportunity of whispering to him, " Come to- 
 morrow, and I will tell you all about it." 
 
 Between ten and eleven the company departed, Mrs, 
 Livingstone and Carrie taking a most affectionate leave 
 of 'Lena, urging her not to fail of coming over the next 
 day, as they should be expecting her. The ludicrous 
 expression of John Jr. 's face was a sufficient interpreta- 
 tion of his thoughts, as whispering aside to 'Lena, he 
 said, "I can't do it justice if I try!" 
 
 The next morning, Mr. Graham got out his carriage 
 to carry 'Lena to Maple Grove, asking his wife to 
 accompany them. But she excused herself, on the plea 
 of a headache, and they set off without her. The meet- 
 ing between 'Lena and her grandmother was affecting, 
 and Carrie, in order to sustain the character she had 
 assumed, walked to the window, to hide her emotions, 
 probably — at least John Jr. thought so, for with tho 
 utmost gravity he passed her his silk pocket handker- 
 chief ! When the first transports of her interview with 
 'Lena were over, Mrs. Nichols fastened herself upon 
 Mr. Graham, while John Jr. invited 'Lena to the gar- 
 den, where he claimed from her the promised story, 
 which she told him unreservedly 
 
 "Oh, that's nothing, compared with my experience," 
 said John Jr. , plucking at the rich, purple grapes which 
 hung in heavy clusters above his head. "That's easily 
 settled. I'll go after Durward myself, and bring him 
 back, either dead or alive — the latter if possible, the for- 
 mer if necessary. So cheer up. I've faith to believe 
 that you and Durward will be married about the same 
 time that Nellie and I are» We are engaged — did I tell 
 you?" 
 
412 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 Involuntarily 'Lena's eyes wandered in the directioa 
 of the sunny slope and the little grave, as yet but 
 nine months made. 
 
 "I know what you think," said John Jr. rather tes* 
 tily, "but hang me if I can help it. Meb was never 
 intended for me, except by mother. I suppose there is 
 in the world somebody for whom she was made, but it 
 wasn't I, and that's the reason she died. I am sorry as 
 anybody, and every night in my life I think of poor 
 Meb, who loved me so well, and who met with so poor 
 a return. I've bought her some grave-stones, though," 
 he continued, as if that were an ample atonement for 
 the past. 
 
 While they were thus occupied, Mr. Graham was dis- 
 cussing with Mrs. Nichols the propriety of her remov- 
 ing to Woodlawn. 
 
 "I shan't live long to trouble anybody," said, she, 
 when asked if she would like to go, "and I'm nothin* 
 without 'Leny." 
 
 So it was arranged that she should go with him, and 
 when 'Lena returned to the house, she found her grand- 
 mother in her chamber, packing up, preparatory to her 
 departure. 
 
 "We'll have to come agin'," said she, "for I've as 
 much as two loads." 
 
 "Don't take them," interposed 'Lena. "You won't 
 need them, and nothing will harm them here. " 
 
 After a little grandma was persuaded, and her last 
 charge to Mrs. Livingstone and Carrie was, "that they 
 keep the dum niggers from her things. " 
 
 Habit with Mrs. Nichols was everything. She had 
 lived at Maple Grove for years, and every niche and 
 corner of her room she understood. She knew the 
 blacks and they knew her, and ere she was half way to 
 Woodlawn, she began to wish she had not started 
 
? 'LENA RIVERS. 41? 
 
 Politely, but coldly, Mrs. Graham received her, saying, 
 "I thought, perhaps, you would return with them ta 
 spend the day!" laying great emphasis on the last 
 words, as that of course, was to be the limit of her visit. 
 Grandma understood it, and it strengthened her resolu* 
 tion of not remaining long. 
 
 "Miss Graham don't want to be pestered with me," 
 said she to 'Lena, the first time they were alone, ' 'and I 
 don't mean that she shall be. 'Tilda is used to me, and 
 she don't mind it now, so I shall go back afore long. 
 You can come to see me every day, and once in a while 
 I'll come here. " 
 
 That afternoon a heavy rain came on, and Mrs. 
 Graham remarked to Mrs. Nichols that "she hoped she 
 was not homesick, as there was every probability of her 
 being obliged to stay over night!" adding, by way of 
 comfort, that "she was going to Frankfort the next day 
 to make purchases for 'Lena, and would take her home. " 
 
 Accordingly, the next morning Mrs. Livingstone was 
 not very agreeably surprised by the return of her 
 mother-in-law, who, Mrs. Graham said, "was so home- 
 sick they couldn't keep her. " 
 
 That night when Mrs. Graham, who was naturally 
 generous, returned from the city, she left at Maple 
 Grove a large bundle for grandma, consisting of dresses, 
 aprons, caps, and the like, which she had purchased as 
 a sort of peace-offering, or reward, rather, for her hav- 
 ing decamped so quietly from Woodlawn. But the 
 poor old lady did not live to wear them. Both her 
 mind and body were greatly impaired, and for two or 
 three years she had been failing gradually. There was 
 no particular disease, but a general breaking up of the 
 springs of life, and a few weeks after 'Lena's arrival at 
 "Woodlawn, they made another grave on the sunny 
 slope, and Mabel no longer slept alone. 
 
414 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVJi. 
 
 DURWARD. 
 
 From place to place and from scene to scene Durward 
 had hurried, caring nothing except to forget, if possible, 
 the past, and knowing not where he was going, until 
 he at last found himself in Richmond, Virginia. This 
 was his mother's birthplace, and as several of her 
 more distant relatives were still living here, he deter- 
 mined to stop for awhile, hoping that new objects and 
 new scenes would have some power to rouse him from 
 the lethargy into which he had fallen. Constantly in 
 terror lest he should hear of 'Lena's disgrace, which he 
 felt sure would be published to the world, he had, since 
 his departure from Laurel Hill, resolutely refrained 
 from looking in a newspaper, until one morning some 
 weeks after his arrival at Richmond. 
 
 Entering a reading-room, he caught up the Cincinnati 
 Gazette, and after assuring himself by a hasty glance 
 that it did noi contain what he so much dreaded to see, 
 he sat down to read it, paying no attention to the date, 
 which was three or four weeks back. Accidentally he 
 cast his eye over the list of arrivals at the Burnet House, 
 seeing among them the names of "Mr. H. R. Graham, 
 and Miss L. R. Graham, Woodford county, Kentucky!" 
 
 "Audacious! How dare they be so bold!" he ex- 
 claimed, springing to his feet and tearing the paper in 
 fragments, which he scattered upon the floor. 
 
 "Considerable kind of uppish, 'pears to me," said a 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 41? 
 
 "Is Joel Slocum, of Slocumville, Massachusetts, at 
 your service, sir, " said the young man, rising up and 
 going through a most wonderful bow, which he always 
 used on great occasions. 
 
 In a moment Durward knew who he was, and greatly 
 amused, he said, "Can you tell me, Mr. Slocum, what 
 relation this Lucy Temple, your great-great aunt's 
 daughter, would be to you?" 
 
 "My third cousin, of course," answered JoeL "1 
 figgered that out with a slate and pencil. " 
 
 "And her son, if she had one?" 
 
 "Would be my fourth cousin; no great connection, to 
 be sure — but enough to brag on, if they happened to be 
 smart !" 
 
 "Supposing I tell you that I am Lucy Temple's son?" 
 said Durward, to which Joel, not the least suspicious, 
 replied : 
 
 "Wall, s'posin' you du; 'twon't make it so." 
 
 "But I am, really and truly," continued Durward. 
 "Her first husband was a Bellmont, and I am Dur- 
 ward Bellmont, your fourth cousin, it seems." 
 
 "Jehosiphat! If this ain't curis," exclaimed Joel, 
 grasping Durward's hand. "How do you du, and how 
 is your marm. And do you know Helleny Rivers?" 
 
 Durward's brow darkened as he replied in the affir- 
 mative, while Joel continued: "We are from the same 
 town, and used to think a sight of each other, but when 
 I seen her in Kentucky, I thought she'd got to be 
 mighty toppin'. Mebby, though, 'twas only my 
 notion. " 
 
 Durward did not answer, and after a little his com- 
 panion said, "I suppose you know I sometimes tak© 
 picters for a livin'. I'm goin' to my office now, and if 
 you'll come with me I'll take yourn for nothing bein' 
 you're related." 
 
418 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 Mechanically, and because he had nothing else to do> 
 Durward followed the young man to his "office," which 
 was a dingy, cheerless apartment in the fourth story of 
 a crazy old building. On the table in the center of the 
 room were several likenesses, which he carelessly exam- 
 ined. Coming at last to a larger and richer case, he 
 opened it, but instantly it dropped from his hand, 
 while an exclamation of surprise escaped his lips. 
 
 "What's the row, old feller," asked Joel, coming for- 
 ward and picking up the picture which Durward had 
 recognized as 'Lena Rivers. 
 
 "How came you by it?" said Durward eagerly, and 
 with a knowing wink, Joel replied : 
 
 "I know, and that's enough." 
 
 "But J must know, too. It is of the utmost import- 
 ance that I know," said Durward, and after a moment's 
 reflection Joel answered : 
 
 "Wall, I don't s'pose it'll do any hurt if I tell you. 
 When I was a boy I had a hankerin' for 'Leny and I 
 didn't get over it, after I was grown, either, so a year 
 or two ago, I thought I'd go to Kentuck and see her. 
 Knowin' how tickled she and Mrs. Nichols would be 
 with a picter of their old home in the mountains, I took 
 it for 'em and started. In Albany I went to see a 
 family that used to live in Slocumville. The woman 
 was a gal with 'Leny's mother, and thought a sight of 
 her. Wall, in the chamber where they put me to sleep 
 was an old portrait, which looked so much like 'Leny, 
 that in the mornin' I asked whose it was, and if you 
 b'lieve me, 'twas 'Leny's mother ! You know she mar- 
 ried, or thought she married, a Southern rascal, who 
 got her portrait taken and then run off, and the picter, 
 which in its day was an expensive one, was sold to pay 
 up. A few years afterward Miss Rice, the woman I 
 was tellin' you about, came acrost it, and bought it for 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 419 
 
 a little or nothin' to remember Helleny Nichols by. 
 Thinks to me, nothin' can please 'Leny better than a 
 daguerreotype of her mother,soIout with my apparatus 
 and took it. But when I come to see that they were as 
 nigh alike as two peas, I hated to give it up, for I 
 thought it would be almost as good as lookin' at 'Leny. 
 So I kept it myself, but I don't want her to know it for 
 she'd be mad." 
 
 "Did you ever take a copy of this for anyone?" asked 
 Durward, a faint light beginning to dawn upon him. 
 
 "What a feller to hang on," answered Joel, "but 
 bein' I've started, I'll go it and tell the hull. One 
 morning when I was in Lexington, a gentleman came 
 in, calling himself Mr. Graham, and saying he wanted 
 a copy of an old mountain house which he had seen at 
 Mr. Livingstone's. Whilst I was gettin' it ready, he 
 happened to come acrost this one, and what is the queer- 
 est of all, he like to fainted away. I had to throw water 
 in his face and everything. Bimeby he cum to, and says 
 he, 'Where did you get that?' I told him all about it, 
 and then, layin' his head on the table, he groaned 
 orf ully, wipin' off the thunipinest great drops of sweat, 
 and kissin' the picter as if he was crazy. " 
 
 " 'Mebby you knew Helleny Nichols?' says I. 
 
 " 'Knew her, yes,' says he, jumpin' up and walkin 9 
 the room as fast. 
 
 "All to once he grew calm, just as though nothin 9 
 had happened, and says he, 'I must have that or one 
 jest like it.' 
 
 "At first I hestitated, for I felt kinder mean always 
 about keepin' it, and I didn't want 'Leny to know I'd 
 got it. I told him so, and he said nobody but himself 
 should ever see it. So I took a smaller one, leavin' off 
 the lower part of the body, as the dress is old-fashioned, 
 
420 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 you see. He was as tickled as a boy with a new top* 
 and actually forgot to take the other one of the moun- 
 tain house. Some months after, I came across him in 
 Cincinnati. His wife was with him, and I thought 
 then that she looked like Aunt Nancy. Wall, he went 
 with me to my office, and said he wanted another 
 daguerreotype, as he'd lost the first one. Now I'm 
 pretty good at figgerin' and I've thought that matter 
 over until I've come to this conclusion — that man — 
 was — 'Lena's father — the husband or something of 
 Helleny Nichols ! But what ails you? Are you faint- 
 ing too," he exclaimed, as he saw the death -like white- 
 ness which had settled upon Durward's face and around 
 his mouth. 
 
 "Tell me more, everything you know," gasped 
 Durward. 
 
 "I have told you all I know for certain," said Joel. 
 "The rest is only guess-work, but it looks plaguy rea- 
 sonable. 'Leny's father, I've heard, was from South 
 Car'lina " 
 
 "So was Mr. Graham," said Durward, more to him- 
 self than to Joel, who continued: "And he's your step- 
 father, ain't he — the husband of Lucy Temple, my 
 cousin?" 
 
 Durward nodded, and as a customer just then came 
 in, he arose to go, telling Joel he would see him again. 
 Alone in his room, he sat down to think of the strange 
 story he had heard. Gradually as he thought, his mind 
 went back to the time when Mr. Graham first came 
 home from Springfield. He was a little boy then, five 
 or six years of age, but he now remembered many 
 things calculated to prove what he scarcely yet dared 
 to hope. He recalled Mr. Graham's preparations to re- 
 turn, when he was taken suddenly ill. He knew that 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 421 
 
 immediately after his recovery he had gone northward. 
 He remembered how sad he had seemed after his re- 
 turn, neglecting to play with him as had been his wont, 
 and when to this he added Joel's story, together with 
 the singularity of his father's conduct toward 'Lena, he 
 could not fail to be convinced. 
 
 ''She is innocent, thank Heaven! I see it all now. 
 Fool that I was to be so hasty," he exclaimed, his whole 
 being seeming to undergo a sudden change as the joy- 
 ous conviction flashed upon him. 
 
 In his excitement he forgot his promise of again see- 
 ing Joel Slocum, and ere the sun-setting he was far on 
 his road home. Occasionally he felt a Mngering doubt, 
 as he wondered what possible motive his father could 
 have had for concealment, but these wore away as the 
 distance between himself and Kentucky diminished. 
 As the train paused at one of the stations, he was 
 greatly surprised at seeing John Jr. among the crowd 
 gathered at the depot. 
 
 "Livingstone, Livingstone, how came you here?" 
 shouted Durward, leaning from the open window. 
 
 The cars were already in motion, but at the risk of 
 his life John Jr. bounded upon the platform, and was ( 
 soon seated by the side of Durward. 
 
 "You are a great one, ain't you?" said he. "Here 
 I've been looking for you all over Christendom, to tell 
 you the news. You've got a new sister, Did you 
 know it?" 
 
 "'Lena! Is it true? Is it 'Lena?" said Durward, 
 and John replied by relating the particulars as far as he 
 knew them, and ending by asking Durward if "he 
 didn't think he was sold!" 
 
 "Don't talk," answered Durward. "I want to think, 
 for I was never so happy in my life." 
 
422 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 "Nor I either," returned John Jr. "So if yo* please 
 you needn't speak to me, as I wish to think too. " 
 
 But John Jr. could not long keep still ; he must tell 
 his companion of his engagement with Nellie — and he 
 did, falling asleep soon after, and leaving Durward to 
 his own reflections. 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 42? 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVHL 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 We hope the reader does not expect us to describe the 
 meeting between Durward and 'Lena, for we have not 
 the least, or, at the most, only a faint idea of what took 
 place. We only know that it occurred in the summer- 
 house at the foot of the garden, whither 'Lena had fled 
 at the first intimation of his arrival, and that on her re- 
 turn to the house, after an interview of two whole 
 hours, there were on her cheeks traces of tears, which 
 the expression of her face said were not tears of grief. 
 
 "How do you like my daughter?" asked Mr. Graham 
 mischievously, at the same time laying his arm proudly 
 about her neck. 
 
 "So well that I have asked her to become my wife, 
 and she has promised to do so, provided we obtain your 
 consent," answered Durward, himself throwing an arm 
 around the blushing girl, who tried to escape, but he 
 would not let her, holding her fast until his father's 
 answer was given. 
 
 Then turning to Mrs. Graham, he said, "Now, 
 mother, we will hear you." 
 
 Kind and affectionate as she tried to be toward 'Lena, 
 Mrs. Graham had not yet fully conquered her olden 
 prejudice, and had the matter been left wholly with her- 
 self, she would, perhaps, have chosen for her son a 
 bride in whose veins no plebeian blood was flowing; 
 but she well knew that her objections would have no 
 
424 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 weight, whatever, and very wisely she answered, that 
 "she should interpose no impediment to his marriage 
 with her husband's daughter." 
 
 "Then it is settled," said he, "and four weeks from 
 to-night I shall claim 'Lena for my own. * 
 
 "No, no, not so soon after poor grandma's death," 
 aaid 'Lena, her tears flawing afresh at the mention of 
 her loss. 
 
 "If grandma could speak, she would tell you not to 
 wait," urged Durward; but 'Lena was decided, and the 
 most that she would promise was, that early in the 
 spring she would think about it ! 
 
 "Six whole months," said Durward, counting them 
 off upon his fingers. "Ill never wait so long as that!" 
 but for the present he forebore pressing her further on 
 the subject, consoling himself with the reflection that he 
 should, at least, have her in the house with him, which 
 would in a great measure relieve the tedium of waiting 
 the prescribed length of time. 
 
 During the autumn, his entire devotion to 'Lena, 
 whom he would hardly suffer to be out of his sight, fur- 
 nished Carrie with a subject for very many ill-natured 
 remarks concerning the "sickish actions of newly en- 
 gaged people." 
 
 "I declare," said she, one evening after the departure 
 of Durward, 'Lena, and Nellie, who had all been spend- 
 ing the day at Maple Grove, "I declare, I'm perfectly 
 disgusted, and if this is a specimen, I hope I shall never 
 be engaged." 
 
 "Pray don't give yourself a moment's uneasiness," 
 retorted John Jr., for whom the speech was partially 
 intended. "I've not the least idea that such a calamity 
 will ever befall you, and years hence my grandchildren 
 will read on a moss-grown gravestone, 'Sacred to the 
 memory of Miss Caroline Livingstone, aged seventy, 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 425 
 
 In single blessedness she lived — and in the same did 
 die!'" 
 
 "You think you are cunning, don't you," returned 
 Carrie, more angry than she was willing to admit. 
 
 She had received news of Durward's engagement 
 much better than, under the circumstances, could have 
 been expected, and when some of her acquaintances 
 joked her on the subject, asking why she did not 
 marry Durward herself, she replied as was very true, 
 that "he knew and she knew," saying further that there 
 were some good things about him and she presumed he 
 would be tolerably happy with Cousin 'Lena, as they 
 were somewhat alike ! Very naturally, too, she took to 
 quoting and cousining 'Lena, while John Jr. seldom let 
 an opportunity pass of hinting at the very recent date of 
 her admiration of Miss Graham. 
 
 Almost every day for several weeks after Durward's 
 return, he looked for a visit from Joel Slocum, who, 
 being proverbially slow in his movements, did not make 
 his appearance until sometime toward the last of No- 
 vember. Then he came in full dress, claiming, and 
 proving too, his relationship with Mrs. Graham, who 
 was terribly annoyed, as a matter of course, and who, 
 it was rumored, at last hired him to leave ! For the 
 truth of this we cannot vouch. We only know, that 
 the morning after his departure, Mr. Graham's pocket- 
 book was minus some two hundred dollars, and when 
 he declared his intention of investigating the case, his 
 lady went into violent hysterics, thereby inducing him 
 to desist. 
 
 During the winter nothing of importance occurred, 
 if we except the fact that a part of Mabel's fortune, 
 which was supposed to have been lost, was found to be 
 good, and that John Jr. one day unexpectedly found 
 himself to be the lawful heir of fifty thousand dollars. 
 
426 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 TJpon Mrs. Livingstone this circumstance produced a 
 rather novel effect, renewing in its original force, all 
 her old affection for Mabel, who was now "our dear 
 little Meb." Many were the comparisions drawn be- 
 tween Mrs. John Jr. No. 1, and Mrs. John Jr. No. 2, 
 that was to be, the former being pronounced far more 
 lady-like and accomplished than the latter, who, during 
 her frequent visits at Maple Grove, continually startled 
 her mother-in-law elect by her loud, ringing laugh, for 
 Nellie was now very happy. Her influence, too, over 
 Jr. became, erelong, perceptible, in his quiet, gentle 
 manner, and his abstinence from the rude speeches 
 which heretofore had almost seemed a part of his 
 nature. 
 
 Mrs. Graham had proposed spending the winter in 
 New Orleans, but to this Durward objected. He 
 wanted 'Lena all to himself, he said, and as she seemed 
 perfectly satisfied to remain where she was, the project 
 was given up, Mrs. Graham contenting herself with 
 anticipating the splendid entertainment she would give 
 at the wedding, which was to take place about the last 
 of March. Toward the first of January the prepara- 
 tions began, and if Carrie had never before felt a pang 
 of envy, she did now, when she saw the elegant bridal 
 trousseau which Mr. Graham saw fit to purchase for his 
 daughter. But all such feelings must be concealed, and 
 almost every day she rode over to Woodlawn, admiring 
 this, going into ecstasies over that, and patronizingly 
 giving her advice on all subjects, while all the time her 
 heart was swelling with its heavy weight of bitter dis- 
 appointment. Having always felt so sure of securing 
 Durward, she had invariably treated other gentlemen 
 with such cool indifference that she was a favorite with 
 but few, and as she considered these few greatly her 
 inferiors, she had more than once felt a pang of fear 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 427 
 
 lest John Jr.'s prediction concerning the lettering on 
 
 her tombstone should prove true ! 
 
 "Anything but that," said she, dashing away the 
 angry tears, as she thought how 'Lena had supplanted 
 her in the affections of the only person she could ever 
 love. 
 
 "Old Marster Atherton done want to see you in the 
 parlor," said Corinda, putting her woolly head in at the 
 door, and interrupting her young mistress' reflections. 
 
 Since his unfortunate affair with Anna, the captain 
 had rather avoided Maple Grove, but feeling lonely at 
 Sunnyside, he had come over this morning to call. 
 Finding Mrs. Livingstone absent, he had asked for 
 Carrie, who was so unusually gracious that the bachelor 
 gentleman wondered he had never before discovered 
 how agreeable and how greatly superior to her sister 
 Carrie was ! All his favorite pieces were sung to him, 
 and then, with the patience of a martyr, the young lady 
 seated herself at the backgammon board, her special 
 aversion, playing game after game, until she could 
 scarcely tell her men from his. On his way home the 
 captain fell into a curious train of reflections touching 
 his future, while Carrie, when asked by Corinda, if 
 "old marster was done gone," sharply reprimanded the 
 negro girl, telling her "it was very impolite to call any- 
 body old, particularly one so young as Captain Ather- 
 ton!" 
 
 The next day the captain came again, and the next, 
 and the next, until at last his former intimacy at Maple 
 Grove seemed to be fully re-established. And all this 
 time no one had an inkling of the true state of things, not 
 even John Jr. , who never dreamed it possible for his 
 haughty, beautiful sister, to grace Sunnyside as its mis- 
 tress. "But stranger things than that had happened 
 and were happening every day," Thus reasoned Carrie 
 
428 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 as she sat alone in her room, revolving the propriety 01 
 impropriety of answering "Yes" to a delicate perfumed 
 note which the captain had that morning placed in her 
 hand at parting. She looked at herself in the long mir- 
 ror. Her face was fair, very fair, and as yet untouched 
 by a single mark or line. She thought of him, bald, 
 wrinkled, fat and forty-six! 
 
 "No, I'll never do it," she exclaimed passionately, 
 tearing the note into fragments. "Better live single all 
 my days." 
 
 At this moment, the handsome carriage of Mrs. 
 Graham drew up, and from it alighted 'Lena, richly 
 clad in velvets and costly furs. The sight of her pro- 
 duced a reaction and Carrie thought again. Captain 
 Atherton was generous to a fault. He was both able 
 and willing to grant her slightest wish, and as his wife, 
 she could compete with, if not outdo 'Lena, in the splen- 
 dor of her surroundings. The golden pen was resumed, 
 and with a steady hand Carrie Livingstone wrote the 
 words which sealed her destiny for life. This done, 
 nothing could move her, and though her father en- 
 treated, her mother scolded, and John Jr. actually 
 swore, it made no difference. "She was old enough to 
 choose for herself," she said, "and she had done so." 
 
 When Mrs. Livingstone became convinced that her 
 daughter was in earnest, she gave up the contest, tak- 
 ing sides with her, and saying she would not have it 
 otherwise if she could. Like Durward, Captain Ather- 
 ton was in a hurry, and as Carrie's chief desire was to 
 be married before 'Lena, thus preventing John Jr. from 
 teasing her about being left in the rear, it was decided 
 that the wedding should take place just one week before 
 the time appointed for that of her cousin. Determining 
 not to be outdone by Mrs. Graham, Mrs. Livingstone 
 launched forth on a large scale, and there commenced 
 
•LENA RIVERS. 429 
 
 between the two houses a species of rivalay extremely 
 amusing to a looker-on. Did Mrs. Graham purchase 
 for 'Lena a costly silk, Mrs. Livingstone forthwith 
 secured a piece of similar quality, but different pattern, 
 for Carrie. Did Mrs. Graham order forty dollars' 
 worth of confectionery, Mrs. Livingstone immediately 
 increased her order to fifty dollars. And when it was 
 known that Mrs. Graham had engaged a Louisville 
 French cook at two dollars a day, Mrs. Livingstone 
 gent to Cincinnati, offering three dollars for one ! 
 
 Carrie had decided upon a tour to Europe, and the 
 captain had given his consent, when it was currently 
 reported that Durward and 'Lena were also intending 
 to sail for Liverpool. In this dilemma there was no 
 alternative save a trip to California, or the Sandwich 
 Islands! The former was chosen, Captain Atherton 
 generously offering to defray Mrs. Livingstone's ex- 
 penses if she would accompany them. This plan Carrie 
 warmly seconded, for she knew her mother's presence 
 would greatly relieve her from the society of her hus- 
 band, which was not as agreeable to her as it ought to 
 have been. But now a new obstacle arose. Mr. Liv- 
 ingstone refused to let his wife go, unless Anna could 
 be persuaded to come home and remain with him while 
 she was gone. 
 
 Unwilling as Carrie was to meet her sister, under ex- 
 isting circumstances, she, for the sake of her mother's 
 company, reluctantly consented, and her father accord- 
 ingly wrote to Anna, inviting her and Malcolm to be 
 present at Carrie's wedding, purposely omitting the 
 name of the bridegroom. A little fidgety, Captain 
 Atherton awaited the answer, which was that they 
 would come, and three days before the appointed time 
 they were there. It was dark when they arrived, and 
 as they were not expected that night, they entered the 
 
430 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 house ere any one was aware of their presence. John 
 Jr. chanced to be in the hall, and the moment he saw 
 Anna, he caught her in his arms, shouting so uproar- 
 iously that his father and mother at once hastened to 
 the spot. 
 
 "Will you forgive me, father?" said Anna. "You 
 would if you knew how much I loved him — Malcolm-— 
 my husband. " 
 
 Mr. Livingstone replied by clasping her closer to his 
 bosom while he extended his hand toward Malcolm who, 
 proud as ever, had no forgiveness to ask. With a 
 haughtiness equal to her own he returned the greeting 
 of his mother-in-law who, after welcoming her daughter, 
 turned to him saying "she hoped he was well." 
 
 "Where's Carrie?" asked Anna and John Jr. replied, 
 "In the parlor with her future spouse. Shall I intro- 
 duce you?" 
 
 So saying he dragged her into the parlor, where she 
 recoiled almost in terror, as she saw Captain Atherton 
 sitting much nearer to Carrie than he had ever sat to 
 her! 
 
 "Oh, Carrie!" she exclaimed, "it is impossible. It 
 cannot be — that I see you again !" she added, as she met 
 her sister's warning look. 
 
 Another moment and they were in each other's arms, 
 weeping bitterly, the one that her only sister should 
 thus wantonly throw herself away, and the other, she 
 scarcely knew why, only she was wretched. It was 
 but for an instant, however, and then Carrie was her- 
 self again. Playfully presenting Anna to her future 
 brother-in-law, she said, "Ain't I good to take up with 
 what you left !" 
 
 But no one smiled at this joke — the captain, least of 
 all, and as Carrie glanced from him to the noble, manly 
 form of Malcolm, she felt that her sister had made a 
 
"LENA RIVERS. 431 
 
 happy choice. The next day 'Lena came, overjoyed tc 
 meet Anna, who, since the night of her elopement, had 
 looked upon her with a species of adoration, and who, 
 perhaps more than any one else, rejoiced at her good 
 fortune. 
 
 "You deserve it all," said she, when they were alone, 
 "and if Carrie only had one tithe of your happiness in 
 store, I should be satisfied." 
 
 But Carrie asked for no sympathy, would receive 
 none. "It was no one's business whom she married," 
 she said, "if she only suited herself;" and so one pleas- 
 ant night in the early spring, when the new moon hung 
 like a silver thread in the western sky, and the shining 
 stars from their far-off homes looked sadly down upon 
 her, they decked her in her bridal robes, arranged the 
 fall of her flowing veil, placed the orange wreath among 
 the heavy braids of her hair, and then, white, cold, and 
 feelingless as a marble statue, she laid her hand in Cap- 
 tain Atherton's, and in a calm, unwavering voice took 
 upon her the vows which made her his forever, It was 
 a grand affair, outrivaling anything which had been 
 seen in the country for a long time, but Mrs. Graham 
 smiled complacently, thinking how she would outdo it 
 all. A few days after the ceremony, Carrie, already 
 grown weary of her new position, began to urge their 
 immediate departure for California. 
 
 * ' There was no need of further delay, " she said. ' ' No 
 one cared to see 'Lena married. Weddings were stupid 
 things, anyway, and her mother could just as well go 
 one time as another." 
 
 At first Mrs. Livingstone hesitated, but when the 
 bride of four days burst into a passionate fit of weeping, 
 declaring "she'd kill herself if she had to stay much 
 longer at Sunnyside and be petted by that old fool," she 
 consented, and one week from the day of their marriage 
 
432 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 they started. In Carrie's eyes there was already a look 
 of weary sadness, which said that the bitter tears were 
 constantly welling up, while on her brow a shadow was 
 resting, as if Sunnyside were a greater burden than 
 she could bear. But the elegance of her traveling cos- 
 tume in a measure consoled her, and when she was 
 repeatedly mistaken for the daughter of her portly 
 spouse, she thought of his great wealth, and gathered 
 what comfort she could from that. Alas, for a union 
 without love! It seldom fails to end in misery, and 
 thus, when all too late, poor Carrie found it. Her hus- 
 band was proud of her, and had she permitted, would 
 have loved her after his fashion, but to use her own 
 words, "the very sight of him was hateful," and his 
 affectionate advances were invariably repulsed, until at 
 last he treated her with a cold politeness, far more en- 
 durable than his fawning attentions had been. She was 
 welcome to go her own way, and he went his, each 
 having in San Francisco their own suite of rooms, Car- 
 rie's being with her mother, and each setting up, as it 
 were, a separate establishment. In this way they got 
 on quite comfortably for a few weeks, at the end of 
 which time Carrie took it into her capricious head to 
 return home to Maple Grove. She would never go 
 back to Sunnyside, she said. And without a word of 
 opposition the captain picked up his things, paid his 
 bills, and started for Kentucky, leaving his wife at 
 Maple Grove, she giving as a reason that "ma could 
 not spare her yet. " 
 
 Far different from this were the future prospects of 
 Durward and 'Lena, who with perfect love in their 
 hearts were made one, a week after the departure of 
 Captain Atherton for California. In the style of her 
 dress 'Lena had followed the dictates of her own good 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 433 
 
 taste, rather than the wishes of Mrs. Graham, and the 
 assembled guests unanimously pronounced her the most 
 beautiful bride they had ever seen. Very proudly Dur- 
 ward looked down upon her as he placed the first hus- 
 band's kiss on her pure white brow, and in the soft 
 brown eyes, brimming with tears, which she raised to 
 his face, there was a world of tenderness, telling that 
 theirs was a union of hearts as well as hands. 
 
 Nellie and Anna — John Jr„ and Malcolm, were 
 bridesmaids and groomsmen, Anna being arrayed in 
 the same white satin and embroidered lace which had 
 been destined for the bride of Captain Atherton. But 
 far better they became the fair wife of Malcolm Everett, 
 who laughingly proposed that they be married over, 
 as he led her to the crowded drawing rooms. Mrs. 
 Graham was in her element, for many whispered re- 
 marks reached her ears concerning the superiority of 
 her entertainment to that of Mrs. Livingstone, who un- 
 fortunately was not present to be mortified by her 
 triumph. 
 
 The next night a smaller party assembled at the 
 house of Mr. Douglass,, in Frankfort, proceeding thence 
 to the Episcopal church, where Nellie was soon trans- 
 formed into Nellie Livingstone. Perhaps it was the re- 
 membrance of the frail young girl to whom his vows 
 had once before been plighted that made John Jr. so 
 unusually serious, appearing for a time as if he were in 
 a dream. But the moment they rallied him upon the 
 strangeness of his manner, he brightened up, saying he 
 was trying to get used to thinking that Nellie was really 
 his. It had been decided that he should accompany 
 Durward and 'Lena to Europe, and a day or two after 
 his marriage he asked Mr. Everett to go, too. Anna's 
 eyes fairly danced with joy, for of all things a tour to 
 
434 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 Italy, and with Malcolm, too, was in her estimation the 
 very best. But much as her husband would like to go 
 he could not afford it, and so he frankly said, kissing 
 away the big tear which rolled down Anna's cheek. 
 
 With a peculiar smile John Jr. placed a sealed pack- 
 age in his sister's lap, saying, as he did so, "I have an- 
 ticipated alL this and provided for it. I suppose you 
 are aware that Mabel generously willed me all her prop- 
 erty, which, contrary to our expectations, has proved to 
 be considerable. I know I do not deserve a cent of it, 
 but as she had no nearer relative than Mr. Douglass, I 
 have concluded to use it for the comfort of his daughter 
 and for the good of others. I want you and Anna to 
 join us, and I've given her such a sum as will bear 
 your expenses, and leave you more than you can earn 
 dickering at law for three or four years So puss," 
 turning to Anna, "it's all settled, and do you go and 
 buy all those dresses you've thought of by this time. 
 We can wait a week or two, until they are made, and 
 then, hurrah for the sunny skies of France and Italy. 
 I've talked with father about it, and he's willing to stay 
 alone for the sake of having you go. Oh, don't thank 
 me," he continued, retreating toward the door, as he 
 saw them about to speak. "It makes me ashamed. 
 Besides that, it's poor little Meb to whom you are in- 
 debted. She loved Anna, and would willingly have 
 her money used for this purpose." 
 
 After a little reflection Malcolm concluded to accept 
 John's offer, and a happier, more merry party never 
 stepped on board a steamer than that which, on the 15th 
 of April, sailed for Europe, which they reached in safety, 
 being at the last accounts in Paris, where Durward's 
 high English blood had already procured for them ar 
 acquaintance with the emperor and empress, 'Lena hav 
 
'LENA RIVERS. 435 
 
 iing come to the honor of actually kissing the Prince of 
 Algiers, while Nellie and Anna contented themselves 
 with a look at the dress of the royal infant, John Jr. 
 slyly bidding them take pattern ! 
 
 A few words more, and our story is told. Just as 
 Mr. Livingstone was getting tolerably well suited with 
 his bachelor life, he was one morning surprised by the 
 return of his wife and daughter, the latter of whom, as 
 we have before stated, took up her abode at Maple 
 Grove. Almost every day the old captain rides over to 
 see her, but he generally carries back a longer face than 
 he brings. The bald spot on his head is growing larger, 
 and to her utter dismay Carrie has discovered a "crow 
 track" in the corner of her eye. Frequently, after a 
 war of words with her mother, which occurs oftener 
 than it ought, she announces her intention of repairing 
 forthwith to Sunnyside. but a si^,ht of the captain on his 
 cream-colored horse is sufficient to banish all such 
 thoughts. And thus she lives, that most wretched of 
 all beings, an unloving and unloved wife. 
 
 During the absence of their children, Mr. and Mrs. 
 Graham remain at Woodlawn, which, as it is the prop- 
 erty of Durward, will be his own and 'Lena's home, his 
 parents going back to Louisville. 
 
 Jerry Langley has changed his occupation of driver 
 for that of a brakeman on the railroad between Canan- 
 daigua and Niagara Falls, where he is the unfailing 
 friend of all the halt, blind, maimed and lazy, who call 
 on him for aid. 
 
 In conclusion, we will say of our old friend, Uncle 
 Timothy, that he joined "the Hindews" as proposed, 
 was nominated for constable, and, sure of success, 
 bought an old gig for the better transportation of him- 
 self over the town. But alas for human hopes — par- 
 
436 'LENA RIVERS. 
 
 ticularly if founded upon politics — the whole American 
 ticket was defeated at Laurel Hill, since which time he 
 has gone over to the Republicans, swearing eternal 
 allegiance to them, provided they procure for him the 
 desired office, and denouncing his quondam brethren at 
 Know Nothings in reality. 
 
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