QLltL 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY OF 
 
 NORTH CAROLINA 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 THE WILMER COLLECTION 
 OF CIVIL WAR NOVELS 
 PRESENTED BY 
 
 RICHARD H. WILMER, JR. 
 
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 JS&MER COLLEtTION 
 
M A C AE I A. 
 
 BY AUGUSTA J. EVANS, 
 
 AITTHOR OP ' BeUI.AH." 
 
 *'We have all to be laid upon an altar; we have all, as it were, to be sub- 
 jected to the action of fire." — Melvill. 
 
 :^EW YORK: 
 JOHN BKADBUEX, PUBLISHER, 
 
 (late m. doolady), 
 
 49 WALKER STREET. 
 
 18G4. 
 
Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 18C4, by 
 
 M . D L A D Y , 
 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States, for the 
 Southern District of Xew York. 
 
 JoHK J. Reed. Printer and Stereot3'per, 
 \ 43 & 45 Centre Street. 
 
 i 
 
M A C A R I A . 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 The town-clock was on the last stroke of twelve, the solitary 
 candle measured but two inches from its socket, and as the sum- 
 mer wind rushed through the half-closed shutters, the melted 
 tallow dripped slowly into the brightly-burnished brazen can- 
 dlestick. The flickering light fell upon grim battalions of figures 
 marshalled on the long, blue-lined pages of a ledger, and flashed 
 fitfully in the face of the accountant, as he bent over his work. 
 In these latter days of physical degeneration, such athletic frames 
 as his are rarely seen among the youth of our land. Sixteen 
 years growth had given him unusual height and remarkable 
 breadth of chest, and it was difficult to reahze that the stature 
 of manhood had been attained by a mere boy in years. A gray 
 suit (evidently home-made), of rather ^oarse texture, bespoke 
 poverty ; and, owing to the oppressive heat of the atmosphere, 
 the coat was thrown partially off. He wore no vest, and the 
 loosely-tied black ribbon suffered the snowy white collar to fall 
 away from the throat and expose its well-turned ^outline. The 
 head was large, but faultlessly proporti^ed, and tlife thick black 
 hai^ cut short and clinging to the temples, added to its massive- 
 ness. The lofty forehead, white and smooth, the somewhat 
 heavy brows matching the hue of the iiair, the str^ght, finely- 
 formed nose with its delicate but clearly-defined nostril, the full, 
 firm hps unshaded by mustache, combined to rendeMie face one 
 of uncommon beauty. Yet, as he sat absorbed by his figures, 
 there was nothing prepossessing or winning in his appearance, 
 for though you could no^^«>>a^4^^*^^^'-^^^o of his features, 
 
4 MACAKTA ; OE, 
 
 you involuntarily shrank from the prematurely grave, nay, aus- 
 tere expression which seemed habitual to them. He looked just 
 what he was, youthful in months and years, but old in trials, 
 sorrows, and labors, and to one who analyzed his countenance, 
 the conviction was inevitable that his will was gigantic, his ambi- 
 tion unbounded, his intellect wonderfully acute and powerful. It 
 is always sad to remark in young faces the absence of that beam- 
 ing enthusiasm which only a joyous heart imparts, and though in 
 this instance there was nothing dark or sinister, you could not 
 fail to be awed by the cold, dauntless resolution which said so 
 plainly: "I struggle, and shall conquer. I shall mount, though 
 the world defy me." Although he had labored, since dawn, 
 there was no drooping of the muscular frame, no symptom of fa- 
 tigue, save in the absolute colorlessness of his face. Firm as 
 some brazen monument on its pedestal, he sat and w^orked on, 
 one hand wielding the pen, the other holding down the leaves 
 which fluttered, now and then, as the Lrecze passed over them. 
 
 " Kussell, do you know it is midnight ?" 
 
 He frowned, and answered without looking up. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " How much longer will you sit up ?" 
 
 "Till I finish my work." 
 
 The speaker stood on the threshold, leaning against the door- 
 facing, and, after waiting a few moments, softly crossed the room 
 and put her hand on the back of his chair. She was two years 
 his junior, and though evidently the victim of recent and severe 
 illness, even in her feebleness she was singularly hke him. Her 
 presence seemed to annoy him, for he turned round, and said has- 
 tily: '' Electra, go to bed. I told you good-night three hours 
 ago." 
 
 She stood stUl, but silent. ^[^ 
 
 " What do you want ?" U^ 
 
 " Nothing." 
 
 He wrote on for some ten minutes longer, then closed the led- 
 ger and put it aside. The candle had burned low ; he took a 
 fresh one from the drawer of the table, and, after lighting it, 
 drew a Latin dictionary near to him, opened a worn copy of 
 
ALTAKS OF SACRIFICE. 5 
 
 Horace, and began to study. Quiet as his own shadow stood 
 the fragile girl behind his chair, but as she watched him a heavy- 
 sigh escaped her. Once more he looked up, with a finger still 
 in the dictionary, and asked impatiently : 
 
 " Why on earth don't you go to sleep ?" 
 
 "I can't sleep ; I have tried my best." 
 
 "Are you sick again, my poor little cousin ?" 
 
 He stretched out his arm, and drew her close to him. 
 
 " Xo ; but I know you are up, hard at work, and it keeps me 
 awake. If you would only let me help you." 
 
 " But you can't help me ; I have told you so time and again. 
 You only interrupt and hinder me." 
 
 She colored, and bit her lip ; then answered sorrowfully : 
 
 "If I thought I should be weak and sickly all my life, I 
 would rather die at once, and burden you and auntie no longer." 
 
 " Electra, who told you that you burdened me ?" 
 
 " Oh, Russell ! don't I know how hard you have to work ; 
 and how difficult it is for you to get even bread and clothes. 
 Don't I see how auntie labors day after day, and month after 
 month ? You are good and kind, but does that prevent my 
 feeling the truth, that you are working for me too ? If I could 
 only help you in some way." She knelt down by his chair and 
 leaned her head on his knee, holding his hands between both 
 hers. 
 
 " Electra, you do help me ; all day long when I am at the 
 store your face haunts, strengthens me ; I feel that I am striving 
 to give you comforts, and when at night you meet me at the gate, 
 I am repaid for all I have done. Y'ou must put this idea out of 
 your head, little one ; it is altogether a mistake. Do you hear 
 what I say ? Get up, and go to sleep like a good child, or you 
 will have another wretched headache to-moiTow, and can't bring 
 me my lunch." 
 
 He lifted her from the floor, and kissed her hastily. She raised 
 her arms as if to wind them about his neck, but his grave face 
 gave her no encouragement, and turning away she retired to her 
 room, with hot tears rolling over her cheeks. Russell had 
 scarcely read half a dozen lines after his cousm's departure when 
 
6 macakia; or, 
 
 a soft hand swept back the locks of hair on his forehead, and 
 wiped away the heavy drops that moistened them. 
 
 " My son, you promised me you would not sit up late to- 
 night." 
 
 '* Well, mother, I have almost finished. Remember the nights 
 are very short now, and twelve o'clock comes early." 
 
 " The better reason that you should not be up so late. My 
 son, I am afraid you will ruin your health by this unremitting ap- 
 plication." 
 
 " Why — look at me. I am as strong as an athlete of old." 
 He shook his limbs and smiled, proud of his great physical 
 strength. 
 
 " True, Russell, but, robust as you are, you cannot stand such 
 toil without detriment. Put up your books." 
 
 " Not yet ; I have more laid out, and you know I invariably 
 finish all I set apart to do. But, mother, your hand is hot ; you 
 are not w^ell." He raised the thin hand, and pressed it to his 
 lips. 
 
 " A mere headache, nothing more. Mr. Clark was here to- 
 day ; he is very impatient about the rent ; I told him we were 
 doing all we could, and thought that by September we should be 
 able to pay the whole. He spoke of going to see you, which I 
 urged him not to do, as you were exerting yourself to the ut- 
 most," She scanned his face while she spoke, arid noted the 
 compression of his mouth. He knew she watched him, and an- 
 swered with a forced smile : " Yes, he came to the store this 
 morning. I told him we had been very unfortunate this year in 
 losing our only servant ; and that sickness had forced us to in- 
 cur more expense than usual. However, I drew fifty dollars, 
 and paid him all I could. True, I anticipated my dues, but Mr. 
 Watson gave me permission. So for the present you need not 
 w^orry about rent." 
 
 " What is the amount of that grocery bill you would not let 
 me see last week ?" 
 
 " My dear mother, do not trouble yourself with these little 
 matters ; the grocery bill will very soon be paid. I have ar- 
 ranged with Mr. Hill to keep his books at night, and therefore, 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 7 
 
 you may be easy. Trust all to me, mother ; only take care of 
 your dear self, and I ask no more." 
 
 " Oh, Russell ! my son, my son !" 
 
 She had drawn a chair near him, and now laid her head on his 
 shoulder, while tears dropped on his hand. He had not seen her 
 so unnerved for years, and as he looked down on her grief- 
 stained, yet resigned face, his countenance underwent a marvellous 
 change ; and, folding his arms about her, he kissed her pale, thin 
 cheek repeatedly. 
 
 '' Mother, it is not like you to repine in this way ; you who 
 have suffered and endured so much must not despond, when, after 
 a long, starless night the day begins to dawn." 
 
 " I fear ' it dawns in clouds, and heralds only storms." For 
 myself I care not, but for you, Russell — my pride, my only hope, 
 my brave boy ! it is for you that I suffer. I have been thinking 
 to-night that this is a doomed place for you, and that if we could 
 only save money enough to go to California, you might take the 
 position you merit ; for there none would know of the blight 
 which fell upon you ; none could look on your brow and dream 
 it seemed sullied. Here you have such bitter prejudice to com- 
 bat ; such gross injustice heaped upon you." 
 
 He lifted his mother's head from his bosom, and rose, with a 
 haughty, defiant smile on his lip. 
 
 " Not so ; I v/ill stay here, and live down their hate. Mark 
 me, mother, I will live it down, so surely as I am Russell Aubrey, 
 
 the despised son of a . Let them taunt and sneer I let 
 
 them rake up the smouldering ashes of the miserable past, to 
 fling in my face and blind me ; let them, and welcome 1 I 
 will gather up these same ashes, dry and bitter, and hide them 
 with sacred zeal in a golden urn ; and I will wreathe it with 
 chaplets that never die. Aye I the Phoenix lies now in dust, 
 but one day the name of Aubrey will rise in more than pristine 
 glory ; and mine be the hand to resurrect its ancient splendor. 
 ' Mens cujusque is est quisque P Menzikoff, who ruled the 
 councils of the Kremlin in its palmiest days, once sold pies for a 
 living in the streets of Moscow. ^Mens cujusque is est quisque P 
 I will owe no man thanks j none shall point to me and say, * He 
 
8 MACARIA ; OR 
 
 was drowning in the black, seething gulf of social prejudice, and 
 I held out a finger, and clinging to it he lived.' Not so ! dollar 
 for dollar, service for service, I will pay as I rise. I scorn to ask 
 favors, I am glad none are tendered me. I have a grim satisfac- 
 tion in knowing that I owe no human being a kinkness, save yon, 
 my precious mother. Go to California ! not I ! not I. In this 
 state will I work and conquer ; here, right here, I will plant my 
 feet upon the necks of those that now strive to grind me to the 
 dust. I swore it over my father's cofiBn ! I tell you, mother, I 
 will trample out the stigma, for, thank God I ' there is no free- 
 trade measure which will ever lower the price of brains.' " 
 
 " Hush, Russell, you must subdue your fierce temper ; you 
 must I you must I remember it was this ungovernable rage 
 which brought disgrace upon your young, innocent head. Oh ! 
 it grieves me, my son, to see how bitter you have grown ; it 
 wrings my heart to hear you challenge fate, as you so often do. 
 Once you were gentle and forgiving j now scorn and defiance 
 rule you." 
 
 " I am not fierce, I am not in a rage. Lay your hand upon 
 my temples — here on my wrist ; count the pulse, slow and 
 steady, mother, as your own. I am not vindictive ; am no 
 Indian to bear about a secret revenge, ready to consummate it 
 at the first propitious moment. If I should meet the judge and 
 jury who doomed my father to the gallows, I think I would 
 serve them if they needed aid. But I am proud ; I inherited 
 my nature ; I writhe, yes, mother, writhe under the treatment I 
 constantly receive. I defy fate ? Well, suppose I do : she has 
 done her worst. I have no quarrel with her for the past ; but 
 I will conquer her in the future. I am not bitter ; would I not 
 give my life for you ? Are you not dearer to me than my own 
 soul ? Take back your words, they hurt me ; don't tell me that 
 I grieve you, mother." 
 
 His voice faltered an instant, and he put his arms tenderly 
 
 round the drooping form. >^, 
 
 " We have trouble enough, my son, without dwelling upon 
 
 what is past and irremediable. So long as you seem cheerful, I 
 
 am content. I know that God will not lay more on me than 1 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. » 
 
 can bear ; ' ns my day, so shall my strength be.' Thy will be 
 done, oh ! my God." 
 
 There was a brief pause, and Russell Aubrey passed his hand 
 over his eyes and dashed off a tear. His mother watched him, 
 and said, cautiously : 
 
 " Have you noticed that my eyes are rapidly growing 
 worse ? " 
 
 " Yes, mother, I have been anxious for some weeks." 
 
 "You know it all, then?" 
 
 *' Yes, mother." 
 
 " I shall not murmur; I have become resigned at last; though 
 for many weeks I have wrestled for strength, for patience. It 
 was so exceedingly bitter to know that the time drew near when 
 I should see you no more ; to feel that I should stretch out my 
 hands to you, and lean on you, and yet look no longer on the 
 dear face of my child, my boy, my all. But my prayers were 
 heard ; the sting has passed away, and I am resigned. I am 
 glad that we have spoken of it ; now my mind is calmer, and I 
 can sleep. Good-night, my son." 
 
 She pressed the customary good-night kiss on his lips, and left 
 him. He closed the dictionary, leaned his elbow on the table, 
 and rested his head on his hand. His piercing black eyes were 
 fixed gloomily on the floor, and now and then his broad chest 
 heaved as dark and painful thoughts crowded up. 
 
 Mrs. Aubrey was the only daughter of wealthy and ambitious 
 parents, who refused to sanction her marriage with the object of 
 her choice ; and threatened to disinherit her if she persisted in 
 her obstinate course. Mr. Aubrey was poor, but honest, highly 
 cultivated, and, in every sense of that much-abused word, a gen- 
 tleman. His poverty was not to be forgiven, however, and when 
 the daughter left her father's roof, and wedded the man whom her 
 parents detested, the die was cast ; she was banished forever from 
 a home of affluence, and found that she had indeed forfeited her 
 fortune. For this she was prepared, and bore it bravely; but ere 
 long severer trials came upon her. Unfortunately, her husband's 
 temper was fierce and ungovernable ; and pecuniary embarrass- 
 ments rarely have the effect of sweetening such, He removed to 
 
 1* 
 
10 MACAEIA ; OR, 
 
 an inland town, and embarked in mercantile pursuits ; but mis- 
 fortune followed him, and reverses' came thick and fast. One 
 miserable day, when from early morning every thing had gone 
 wrong, an importunate creditor, of wealth and great influence in 
 the community, chafed at Mr. Aubray's tardiness in repaying 
 some trifling sum, proceeded to taunt and insult him most un- 
 wisely. Stung to madness, the wretched man resented the in- 
 sults ; a struggle ensued, and at its close Mr. Aubrey stood over 
 the corpse of the creditor. There was no mode of escape, and 
 the arm of the law consigned him to prison. During the tedious 
 weeks that elapsed before the trial his devoted wife strove to 
 cheer and encourage him by every efl'ort which one human being 
 can make for another. Russell was about eleven years of age, 
 and, boy though he was, realized most fully the horrors of his 
 parent's situation. The days of his trial came at last ; but he 
 had surrendered himself to the demon Rage, had taken the life 
 of a fellow creature ; what could legal skill accomplish ? 
 The affair produced great and continued excitement ; the 
 murdered man had been exceedingly popular, and the sym- 
 pathies of \he citizens were enlisted in behalf of his family. 
 Although clearly a case of manslaughter only, the violent 
 prejudices of the community and the exertions of influen- 
 tial friends so biassed the jury that, to the astonishment of the 
 counsel on both sides, the cry of "blood for blood," went out 
 from that crowded court-room, and in defiance of precedent, Mr. 
 Aubrey was unjustly sentenced to be hung. When the verdict 
 was known, Russell placed his insensible mother on a couch from 
 which it seemed probable she would never rise. But there is an 
 astonishing amount of endurance in even a feeble woman's frame, 
 and after a time she went alx)ut her ho&se once more, doing her 
 duty to her child and leai'uing to " suffer and grow strong." 
 Fate had ordained, however, that Russell's, father should not die 
 upon the ga-llows ; and soon after the verdict was pronounced, 
 when all Mrs. Aubrey's efforts to procure a pardon had proved 
 unavailing, the proud and desperate man, in the solitude of his 
 cell, with no eye but Jehovah's to witness the awful deed, the 
 consummation of his woes, took his own life — and with the aid 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 11 
 
 of a lancet launched his guilty soul into eternity. On the floor 
 of the cell was found a blurred sheet, sprinkled with blood, 
 directed to his wife, bidding her farewell, and committing her and 
 her boy to the care of an outraged and insulted God. Such was 
 the legacy of shame which Russell inherited ; was it any marvel 
 that at sixteen that boy had lived ages of sorrow ? Mrs. Aub- 
 rey found her husband's financial ajffairs so involved that she 
 relinquished the hope of retaining the little she possessed, and re- 
 tired to a small cottage on the outskirts of the town, where she 
 endeavored to support herself and the two dependent on her by 
 taking in sewing. Electra Grey was the orphan child of Mr. 
 Aubrey's only sister, who dying in poverty bequeathed the infant 
 to her brother. He had loved her as well as his own Russell, 
 and his wife, who cradled her in her arms and taught her to 
 walk by clinging to her finger, would almost as soon have parted 
 with her son as tlie little Electra. For five years the widow 
 had toiled by midnight lamps to feed these two ; now oppressed 
 nature rebelled, the long over-taxed eyes refused to perform their 
 office ; filmy cataracts stole over them, veiling their sadness and 
 then- unshed tears — blindness was creeping on. At his father's 
 death Russell w^as forced to quit school, and with some difficulty 
 he succeeded in obtaining a situation in a large dry-goods store, 
 where his labors were onerous in the extreme, and his wages a 
 mere pittance. To domineer over those whom adverse fortune 
 places under their control is by no means uncommon among igno- 
 rant and selfish men, whose industry has acquired independence ; 
 and though Russell's employer, Mr. Watson, shrank from com- 
 mitting a gross wrong, and prided himself on his scrupulous 
 honesty, still his narrow mind and penurious habits strangled 
 every generous impulse, and, without being absolutely cruel or 
 unprincipled, he contrived to gall the boy's proud spirit and 
 render his position one of almost purgatorial severity. The ma- 
 chinery of human will is occult and complicated ; very few 
 rigidly analyze their actions and discern the ftiotives that impel 
 them, and if any one had told Jacob Watsoai that envy was the 
 secret spring which prompted his unfriendly course toward his 
 young clerk he would probably have indignantly denied the accu- 
 
12 MACARIA ; OR, 
 
 sation. The blessing of au education had been withheld from 
 him ; he grew up illiterate and devoid of refinement ; and deter- 
 mined that his children should enjoy every advantage which 
 money could command. His eldest son was just Russell's age, 
 had been sent to various schools from his infancy, was indolent, 
 self-indulgent, and thoroughly dissipated. Having been a second 
 time expelled from school for most disgraceful misdemeanors, he 
 lounged away his time about the store, or passed it still more 
 disreputably with reckless companions. 
 
 The daily contrast presented by Cecil and Russell irritated 
 the father, and hence his settled dislike of the latter. The faith- 
 ful discharge of duty on the part of the clerk afforded no plau- 
 sible occasion for invective ; he felt that he was nan-owly 
 watched, and resolved to give no ground for fault-finding ; yet 
 during the long summer days, when the intense heat prevented 
 customers from thronging the store, and there was nothing to be 
 done, when Russell knowing that the books were written up 
 and the counters free from goods, took his Latin grammar and 
 improved every leisure half-hour, he was not ignorant of the fact 
 that an angry scowl darkened his employer's visage, and under- 
 stood why he was constantly interrupted to perform most un- 
 necessary labors. But in the same proportion that obstacles 
 thickened, his energy and resolution doubled ; and herein one 
 human soul differs from another in strength of will, which fur- 
 nishes powers of endurance. What the day denied him he 
 reclaimed from night, and succeeded in acquiring a tolerable 
 knowledge of Greek, besides reading several Latin books. 
 Finding that his small salary was inadequate, now that his 
 mother's failing sight prevented her from accomplishing the 
 usual amount of sewing, he solicited and obtained permission to 
 keep an additional set of books for the grocer who furnished his 
 family with provisions, though by this arrangement few hours 
 remained for necessary sleep. The protracted illness and death 
 of an aged and faithful servant, together with Electra's tedious 
 sickness, bringing the extra expense of medical aid, had pre- 
 vented the prompt payment of rent due for the three-roomed 
 cottage, and Russell was compelled to ask for a portion of his 
 
ALTAKS OF SACRIFICE. 13 
 
 salary in advance. His mother little dreamed of the stiugrgle 
 which took place in his heart ere he could force himself to make 
 the request, and he carefully concealed from her the fact that at 
 the moment of' receiving the money, he laid in Mr. Watson's 
 hand by way of pawn the only article of any value which he 
 possessed, the watch his father had always worn, and which the 
 coroner took from the vest pocket of the dead, dabbled with 
 blood. The gold chain had been sold long before, and the son 
 wore it attached to a simple black ribbon. His employer re- 
 ceived the watch, locked it in the iron safe, and Russell fastened 
 a small weight to the ribbon, and kept it around his neck that his 
 mother might not suspect the truth. It chanced that Cecil 
 stood near at the time ; he saw the watch deposited in the safe, 
 whistled a tune, fingered his own gold repeater, and walked 
 away. Such was Russell Aubrey's history ; such his situation 
 at the beginning of his seventeenth year. Have I a reader whose 
 fond father lavishes on him princely advantages, whose shelves 
 are filled with valuable, but unread volumes, whose pockets are 
 supplied with more than necessary money, and who yet saunters 
 through the precious season of youth failing utterly to appre- 
 ciate his privileges ? Let him look back into that little room 
 where Russell sits, pale, wearied, but unbending, pondering his 
 dark future, planning to protect his mother from want, and 
 racking his brain for some feasible method of procuring such 
 books as he absolutely needs ; books which his eager, hungry 
 eyes hnger on as he passes the book-store every morning going 
 to his work. Oh, young reader I if such I have, look at him 
 struggling with adversity as a strong swimmer with the murder- 
 ous waves that lash him, and contrasting your own fortunate 
 position shake off the inertia that clings to you tenaciously as 
 Sinbad's burden, and go to work earnestly and bravely, thank- 
 ing God for the aid he has given you. 
 
 " Disappointment's dry and bitter root, 
 Envy's harsh berries and the choking pool, 
 Of the world's scorn, are the right mcther-milk 
 To the tough hearts that pioneer their kind." 
 
14:. MAC ARIA ; OR, 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 " Irexe, your father will be displeased if he sees you in that 
 plight." 
 
 " Pray, what is wrong about me now ? You seem to glory 
 in finding fault . What is the matter with my ' plight' as you 
 call it ?" 
 
 " You know very well your father can't bear to see you carry- 
 ing your own satchel and basket to school. He ordered ^Iiirtlia 
 to take them every morning and evening, but she says you will 
 not let her carry them. It is just sheer obstinacy in you." 
 
 " There it is again ! because I don't choose to be petted like a 
 baby, or made a wax doll of, it is set down to obstinacy, as if I 
 had the temper of a heathen. See here, aunt Margaret, I am., 
 tired of having Martha tramping eternally at my heels as though 
 I were a two year old child. There is no reason in her walking 
 after me when I am strong enough to carry my own books, and 
 I don't intend she shall do it any longer." 
 
 "But, Irene, your father is too proud to have you trudging 
 alonsi: the road-, like anv other besi'^ar, with vour l)ooks in one 
 arm and a basket swinging in the other. Just suppose the Car- 
 ters or the Harrisses should meet you ? Dear me ! they would 
 hardly believe you belonged to a wealthy, aristocratic family like 
 the Huntiugdons. Child, I never carried my own dinner to 
 school in my life." 
 
 " And I expect that is exactly the reason why you are forever 
 complaining, and scarcely see one well day in the three hundred 
 and sixty-five. As to what people think, I don't care a cent ; 
 as to whether my ancestors did or did not carry their lunch in 
 their own aristocratic hands is a matter of no consequence what- 
 ever. I dispise all this ridiculous nonsense about aristocracy of 
 family, and I mean to do as I please. I thought that really 
 well-bred persons of high standing and birth could aff"ord to ])e 
 silent on the subject, and that only parvenus, coarse, vulgar 
 people with a little money, put on those kind of airs, and pre- 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 15 
 
 tended to be shocked at what they had been accustomed to in 
 earlv life." 
 
 " I do not see where you get such plebeian ideas ; you posi- 
 tively make me ashamed of you sometimes, when fashionable, 
 genteel persons come to the house. There is such a want of re- 
 finement in your notions. You are anything but a Huntingdon." 
 
 " I am what God made me, aunt Margaret. If the Hunting- 
 dons stand high, it is because they won distinction by their own 
 efforts ; I don't want the stepping-stones of my dead ancestry ; 
 people must judge me for myself, not from what my grandmother 
 was." 
 
 Irene Huntingdon stood on the marble steps of her palatial 
 home, and talked with the maiden aunt who governed her father's 
 household. The girl was about fourteen, tall for her age, straight, 
 finely-formed, slender. The broad straw hat shaded, but by no 
 means concealed her features, and as she looked up at her aunt 
 the sunshine fell upon a face of extraordinary beauty, such as is 
 rarely seen, save in the idealized heads of the old masters. Her 
 hair was of an uncommon shade, neither auburn nor brown, but 
 between gold and bronze"; and as the sun shone on it the rippling 
 waves flashed, until their burnished glory seemed a very aureola. 
 It was thick and curling ; she wore it parted on her pale, polish- 
 el forehead, and it hung around her like a gilded veil. The face 
 was an oval ; you might measure it by all the rules of art and 
 no imperfection could be found, unless the height of the brow 
 were considered out of proportion. The nose was delicate and 
 clearly cut, and in outline resembled that in the antique medals 
 of Olympias, the wife of Philip of Macedonia. The upper lip 
 was short, and curved like a bow ; the lower, thin, firm, and 
 straight. Her eyes were strangely, marvellously beautiful ; they 
 were larger than usual, and of that rare shade of purplish blue 
 which borders the white velvet petals of a clematis. When the 
 eyes were uplifted, as on this occasion, long, curling lashes of the 
 bronze hue of her hair rested against her brow. Save the scar- 
 let lines which marked her lips, her face was of that clear, color- 
 lessness which can be likened only to the purest ivory. Though 
 there was an utter absence of the rosy hue of health, the trans- 
 
16 ■ MACAEIA ; OE, 
 
 parency of the complexion seemed characteristic of her type, and 
 precluded all thought of disease. People are powerfully at- 
 tracted by beauty, either of form, color, or a combination of 
 both ; and it frequently happens that something of pain mingles 
 with the sensation of pleasure thus excited. Now, whether it be 
 that this arises from a vague apprehension engendered by the 
 evanescent nature of all sublunary things, or from the inability of 
 earthly types to satisfy the divine ideal which the soul enshrines, 
 I shall not here attempt to decide ; but those who examined 
 Irene's countenance were fully aware of this complex emotion ; 
 and strangers who passed her in the street felt mtuitively that a 
 noble, unsullied soul looked out at them from the deep, calm, 
 thoughtful eyes. Miss ]\[argaret muttered something inaudible 
 in reply to her last remark, and Irene walked on to school. Her 
 father's residence was about a mile from the town, but the 
 winding road rendered the walk somewhat longer ; and on one 
 side of this road stood the small house occupied by Mrs. Aubrey. 
 As Irene approached it she saw Electra Grey coming from the 
 opposite direction, and at the cottage gate they met. Both 
 paused ; Irene held out her hand cordially — 
 
 " Good morning. I have not seen you for a fortnight. I 
 thought you were coming to school again as soon as you were 
 strong enough ?" 
 
 " No ; I am not going back to school." 
 " Why ?" 
 
 " Because auntie can't afford to send me any longer. You 
 know her eyes are growing worse every day, and she is not able 
 to take in sewing as she used to do. I am sorry ; but it can't 
 be helped." 
 
 " How do you know it can't be helped ? Kussell told me 
 he thought she had cataracts on her eyes, and they can be 
 removed." 
 
 " Perhaps so, if we had the means of consulting that cele- 
 brated physician in Xew Orleans. Money removes a great many 
 things, Irie, but unfortunately we have n't it." 
 
 " The trip would not cost much ; suppose you speak to Rus- 
 sell about it." 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 17 
 
 "Much or little, it will require more than we can possibly 
 spare. Everything is so high we can barely live as it is. But I 
 must go in, my aunt is waiting for me." 
 
 " Where have you been so early, Electra ? I hope you will 
 not think me impertinent in asking such a question." 
 
 "I carried this waiter full of bouquets to Mr. Carter's. 
 There is to be a grand dinner-party there to-day, and auntie 
 promised as many flowers as she could furnish. However, bou- 
 quets pay poorly. Irie, wait one minute ; I have a little border 
 of mignonette all my own, and I should like to give you a 
 spray." 
 
 She hurried into the garden, and returning with a few delicate 
 sprigs, fastened one in her friend's belt and the remainder in the 
 ribbon on her hat. 
 
 " Thank you, Electra ; who told you that I love mignonette 
 so well ? It will not do for you to stay away from school ; I 
 miss you in my class, and besides, you are losing too much time. 
 Something should be done, Electra. Good-by." 
 
 They shook hands, and Irene walked on. " Something should 
 be done," she repeated, looking down fixedly yet vacantly at the 
 sandy road. Soon the brick walls of the academy rose grim and 
 uninviting, and taking her place at the desk she applied herself 
 to her books. TVhen school was dismissed in the afternoon, in- 
 stead of returning home as usual she walked down the principal 
 street, entered Mr. Watson's store, and put her books on the 
 counter. It happened that the proprietor stood near the front 
 door, and he came forward instantly to wait upon her. 
 
 " Ah, Miss Irene ! happy to see you. What shall I have the 
 pleasure of showing you ?" 
 
 " Russell Aubrey, if you please." 
 
 The merchant stared, and she added : 
 
 " I want some kid gauntlets, but Russell can get them 
 for me." 
 
 The young clerk stood at the desk in the rear of the store, 
 with his back toward the counter ; and Mr. Watson called 
 out — 
 
 " Here, Aubrey, some kid gauntlets for this young lady." 
 
18 MACARIA ; OE, 
 
 He laid down bis pen, and taking a box of gloves from the 
 shelves placed it on the counter before her. He had not noticed 
 her particularly, and when she pushed back her hat and looked 
 up at him he started slightly. 
 
 " Good-evening, Miss Huntingdon, What number do you 
 wish ?" 
 
 Perhaps it was from the heat of the day, or from stooping 
 over his desk, or perhaps it was from something else, but his 
 cheek was flushed, and gradually it grew pale again. 
 
 " Russell, I want to speak to you about Electra. She ought 
 to be at school, you know." 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " But she says your mother can't afford the expense." 
 
 "Just now she can not ; next year things will be better." 
 
 " What is the tuition for her ?" 
 
 " Five dollars a month." 
 
 " Is that all ?" 
 
 He selected a delicate fawn-colored pair of gloves and laid 
 them before her, while a faint smile passed over his face. 
 
 " Russell, has anything happened ?" 
 
 " What do you mean ?" 
 
 " What is troubling you so ?" 
 
 " Nothing more than usual. Do those gloves suit you ?" 
 
 " Yes, they will lit me, I believe." She looked at him very 
 intently. 
 
 He met her gaze steadily, and for an instant his face bright- 
 ened ; then she said, abruptly : 
 
 *' Your mother's eyes are worse ?" 
 
 " Yes, much worse." 
 
 '' Have you consulted Dr. Arnold about them ?" 
 
 " He says he can do nothing for her." 
 
 " How much would it cost to take her to New Orleans and 
 have that celebrated oculist examine them ?" 
 
 " More than we can afford just now ; at least two hundred 
 dollars." 
 
 " Oh, Russell 1 that is not much. Would not Mr. Watson lend 
 you that Uttle ?" 
 
ALTARS OF SACEIFICE. 19 
 
 " I shall not ask him." 
 
 " Not even to restore your mother's sight ?" 
 
 " Not to buy my own life. Besides, the experiment is a doubt- 
 ful one." 
 
 " Still it is worth making." 
 
 " Yes, under different circumstances it certainly would be." 
 
 " Have you talked to Mr. Campbell about it ?" 
 
 " No, because it is useless to discuss the matter." 
 
 " It would be dangerous to go to New Orleans now, I sup- 
 pose ?" 
 
 ' October or November would be better." 
 
 Again she looked at him very earnestly, then stretched out 
 her little hand. 
 
 " Good-by, Russell ; I wish I could do something to help you, 
 to make you less sorrowful." 
 
 He held the slight waxen fingers, and his mouth trembled as 
 he answered, 
 
 " Thank you, Miss Huntingdon. I am not sorrowful, but my 
 path in life is not quite so flowery as yours." 
 
 " I wish you would" not call me ' Miss Huntingdon,' in that 
 stiff, far-off way, as if we were not friends. Or maybe it is a 
 hint that you desire me to address you as Mr. Aubrey. It sounds 
 strange, unnatural, to say anything but Russell." 
 
 She gathered up her books, took the gloves, and went slowly 
 homeward, and Russell returned to his desk with a light in his 
 eyes which, for the remainder of the day, nothing could quench. 
 As Irene ascended the long hill on which Mr. Huntingdon's resi- 
 dence) stood, she saw her father's buggy at the door, and as she 
 approached the steps he came out, drawing on his gloves. 
 
 " You are late, Irene. What kept you ?" 
 
 " I have been shopping a little. Are you going to ride ? 
 Take me with you." 
 
 " Going to dine at Mr. Carter's." 
 
 " Why, the sun is almost down now. What time will you 
 come home ? I want to ask you something." 
 
 " Not till long after you are asleep." 
 
 He took his seat in the buggy, and the spirited horse dashed 
 
20 MACAKIA ; OE, 
 
 down the avenue. A servant came forward to take her hat and 
 satchel, and inform her that her dinner had waited some time. 
 Miss Margaret sat crocheting at the front window of the dining- 
 room, and Irene ate her dinner in silence. As she rose and 
 approached her aunt, the door swung open and a youth 
 entered, apparently about Russell's age, though really one year 
 older. 
 
 " Irene, I am tired to death, waiting for you. What a pro- 
 voking girl you are. The horses have been saddled at least one 
 hour and a half. Do get on your riding-dress. I am out of all 
 patience." 
 
 He rapped his boot heavily with his whip by way of emphasis, 
 and looked hurriedly at his watch. 
 
 " I did not promise to ride with you this evening, Hugh," an- 
 swered his cousin, seating herself on the window-sill and running 
 her fingers lightly over the bars of a beautiful cage where her 
 canary pecked playfully at the fair hand. 
 
 " Oh, nonsense ! Suppose you did n't promise ; I waited for 
 you, and told Grace Harriss and Charlie that we would meet 
 them at the upper bend of the river, just above the factory. 
 Charlie's new horse has just arrived from Tennont — Grreen 
 Mountain Boy, he calls hun — and we have a bet of a half-dozen 
 pairs of gloves that he can't beat my Eclipse. Do come along ! 
 Aunt Margaret, make her come." 
 
 " I should like to see anybody make her do what she is not 
 in a humor for," said his aunt, looking over her glasses at the 
 hthe, graceful figure on the window-sill. 
 
 " Hugh, I would rather stay at home, for I am tired, but I 
 will go to oblige you." 
 
 Miss Margaret lifted her eyebrows, and as his cousin left the 
 room Hugh Seymour exclaimed : 
 
 " Is n't she the greatest beauty in the United States ?" 
 " She will be a belle when she is grown ; just such a one as 
 your mother was, only she lacks her gayety of disposition. She 
 is full of strange notions, Hugh ; you don't know the half of her 
 character — her own father does not. Frequently I am puzzled 
 to understand her myself.'^ 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 21 
 
 " Oh ! she will come out of all that. She is curious about 
 some things now, but she will outgrow it." 
 
 "I am afraid she will not, for it is as much a part of her as 
 the color of her huir or the shape of her nose. She has always 
 been queen." 
 
 Irene appeared at the door with a small silver porte-monnaie 
 in her hand. She counted the contents, put it into her pocket, 
 and gathering up the folds of her habit, led the way to the 
 front door. Hugh adjusted the reins, and laying one hand on 
 his, she sprang lightly to her saddle, then stroked her horse's 
 silky mane and said : 
 
 " Erebus can leave Green Mountain Boy so far behind that 
 Charlie would find it no easy matter to count the plumes in my 
 hat. Are you ready ? " 
 
 The beautiful, jetty creature, as if conscious of her praise, 
 tossed his head and sprang off in a canter, but wheeling round 
 she called to the groom who stood watching them : 
 " Unchain Paragon ! " 
 
 Five minutes later the cousins were galloping on, with a su- 
 perb greyhound following close at Erebus' heels, and leaping up 
 now and then in obedience to the motion of Irene's hand. The 
 road ran through a hilly country, now clad in stern, ancestral 
 pines, and now skirted with oak and hickory, and about a mile 
 beyond the town it made a sharp angle, and took the river 
 bank. The sun had set, but the western sky was still aglow ; 
 and near the bank, where the current was not perceptible, the 
 changing tints of the clouds were clearly mirrored, but in the 
 middle of the stream a ledge of rock impeded its course, and the 
 water broke over with a dull roar, churning itself into foam and 
 spray as it dashed from shelf to shelf of the stony barrier. Just 
 opposite the Fall, Irene checked her horse, and paused to ad- 
 mire the beauty of the scene ; but in another moment the quick 
 tramp of hoofs fell on her ear, and Hugh's young friends joined 
 them. Green Mountain Boy was flecked with foam, and as 
 Irene measured his perfections at one hasty glance she patted her 
 favorite's head and challenged Charlie for a trial of speed. 
 
 " No, Charlie and I must have the race. Miss Grace, you 
 
22 MACAETA ; OR, 
 
 and Irene can take care of yourselves for a few minutes. "We 
 will wait for you on the edge of town, at the grave yard. Now, 
 Charlie, I am ready." 
 
 They took their places in front, and were soon out of sight, as 
 the road followed the curves of the river. Erebus plunged vio- 
 lently at first, not being accustomed to lag behind Eclipse, but 
 by much persuasion and frequent kind touches on his head, Irene 
 managed to reconcile him to the temporary disgrace. 
 
 Grace looked at his antics rather fearfully, and observed that 
 no amount of money could tempt her to mount hun. 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " He will break your neck yet." 
 
 "He is very spirited, but as gentle as Paragon. Come, 
 Grace, it is getting late ; they will be waiting for us. Quicken 
 your sober meek Uttle brownie." 
 
 " So Electra is not coming back to school. It is a great pity 
 she can't have an education." 
 
 " Who told you anything about her ?" 
 
 " Oh, everybody knows how poor her aunt is ; and now to 
 mend matters she is going blind. I would go to see Electra oc- 
 casionally if the family had not been so disgraced. I like her, 
 but no genteel person recognizes Mrs. Aubrey, even in the 
 street." 
 
 " That is very unjust. She is one of the most refined, elegant 
 women I have ever seen. She ought not to be blamed for her 
 husband's misfortune. Poverty is no crime." 
 
 If she had been treated to a Hindostanee proverb, Grace 
 could not have looked more stupidly surprised. 
 
 " Why, Irene ! Mrs. Aubrey wears a bit-calico to church." 
 
 " Well, suppose she does ? Is people's worth to be determin- 
 ed only by the cost or the quality of their clothes ? If I were 
 to give your cook a silk dress exactly like that one your uncle 
 i^ent you from Paris, and provide her with shawl and bonnet to 
 match, would she be your equal, do you think ? I imagine you 
 would not thank me or anybody else who insinuated that Mrs. 
 Harriss' negro cook was quite as genteel and elegant as Miss 
 Grace herself, because she wore exactly the same kind of clothes. 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 23 
 
 I tell you, Grace, it is all humbug ! this everlasting talk about 
 fashion, and dress, and gentiUty ! Pshaw ! I am sick of it. 
 When our forefathers were fighting for freedom, for a national 
 existence, I wonder whether their wives measured each other's 
 respectability or gentility by then* lace collars or the number of 
 flounces on their dresses ? Grace Harriss, your great-grandmo- 
 ther, and mine, and probably everybody's else, spun the cotton, 
 and wove the cloth, and cut and made their homespun dresses, 
 and were thankful to get them. And these women who had not 
 even bit-calicoes were the mothers, and wives, and sisters, and 
 daughters of men who estabhshed the most glorious government 
 on the face of the broad earth ! The way the women of Amer- 
 ica have degenerated is a crying shame. I tell you, I would 
 blush to look my great-grandmother in the face." 
 
 Grace shrugged her shoulders in expressive silence, and, soon 
 after, they reached the spot where the boys were waitmg to join 
 them. 
 
 *' Eclipse made good his name !" cried Hugh, triumphantly, 
 while Charlie bit his lip with chagrin. 
 
 " Xever mind, Charlie, Erebus can distance Eclipse any day." 
 
 " ^ot so easily," muttered Hugh. 
 
 " I will prove it the next time we ride. Now for a canter as 
 far as Grace's door." 
 
 On they went, through the main street of the town : Erebus 
 ahead. Paragon at his heels, then all the others. The wind 
 blew Irene's veil over her eyes, she endeavored to put it back, 
 and in the effort dropped her whip. It was dusk ; they were 
 near one of the crossings, and a tall well-known form stooped, 
 found the whip, and handed it up. Erebus shied, but the hand 
 touched Irene's as it inserted the silver handle in the slender 
 fingers. 
 
 " Thank you, Russell, thank you very much." 
 
 He bowed formally, drew his straw hat over his brow, and 
 walked on with two heavy account-books under his arm. 
 
 " I can't endure that boy," said Hugh, at the distance of half 
 a square, flourishing his whip energetically as he spoke. 
 
 *' Nor I," chimed in Charhe. 
 
24 MACARIA ; OR, 
 
 " Why not ? I have known him a long time, and I like him 
 very much. 
 
 " He is so confoundedly proud and saintly." 
 
 " That exists entirely in your imagination, Hugh. You don't 
 know half his good qualities," returned Irene, a little quickly. 
 
 " Bah I" — began her cousin ; but here their companions bade 
 them good-night, and, as if disinclined to continue the subject, 
 Irene kept in advance till they reached home. Tea was waiting ; 
 Miss Margaret and Hugh talked of various things ; Irene sat 
 balancing her spoon upon the edge of her cup. Finally, tired of 
 listening, she glided to the front door and seated herself on the 
 steps. Paragon followed, and laid down at her feet. Every- 
 thing was quiet, save the distant roar of the river as it foamed 
 over its rocky bed ; below, hanging on the bank of the stream, 
 lay the town. From her elevated position she could trace the 
 winding of the streets by the long rows of lamps ; and now and 
 then a faint hum rose on the breeze, as it swept up the hill and 
 lost itself in the forest behind the house. Yery soon Hugh came 
 out, cigar in hand, and threw himself down beside her. 
 
 " What is the matter, Irie ?" 
 
 " Nothing." 
 
 " What are you moping here for ?" 
 
 " I am not moping at all ; I am waiting for father." 
 
 " He will not be here for three hours yet. Don't you know 
 that Mr. Carter's dinners always end in card-parties ? He is 
 famous for whist and euchre, and doubtless his dinners pay him 
 well. What do you want with uncle ?" 
 
 " Hugh, do throw away your cigar. It is ridiculous to see a 
 boy of your age puffing away in that style. Betting and smoking 
 seem to be the only things you have learned at Yale. By the 
 way, when do you go back ?" 
 
 " Are you getting tired of me ? I go back in ten days. Irene, 
 do you know that I am not coming home next vacation ? I have 
 promised a party of meiTy fellows to spend it with them in 
 Canada. Then the next summer I go to Europe, for two years 
 at least. Are you listening ? Do you understand that it will be 
 four years before I see you again ?" 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 25 
 
 " Yes, I understand." 
 
 " I dare say the time will seem longer to me than to you." 
 
 '* I hope when you do come back we shall not be disappomted 
 in you." 
 
 He took her hand, but she withdrew her fingers. 
 
 " Irene, you belong to me, and you know it." 
 
 " No I I belong to God and myself." 
 
 She rose, and, retreating to the library, opened her books and 
 began to study. The night passed very slowly ; she looked nt 
 the clock again and again. Finally the house became quiet, and 
 at last the crush of wheels on the gravel-walk announced her 
 father's return* He came into the library for a cigar, and, witli- 
 out noticing her, drew his chair to the open window. She ap- 
 proached and put her hand on his shoulder. 
 
 " Irene I what is the matter, child ?" 
 
 " Nothing, sir ; only I want to ask you something." 
 
 "Well, Queen, what is it?" 
 
 He drew her tenderly to his knee, and passed his hand over 
 her floating hair. 
 
 Leonard Huntingdon was forty years old ; tall, spare, with an 
 erect and martial carriage. He had been trained at West Pouit, 
 and perhaps early education contributed somewhat to the air of 
 unbending haughtiness which many found repulsive. His black 
 hair was slightly sprinkled with gray, and his features were still 
 decidedly handsome, though the expression of mouth and eyes 
 was, ordinarily, by no means winning. He could seem very fas- 
 cinating, but rarely deigned to be so ; and an intimate acquahit- 
 auce was not necessary to teach people that he was proud, ob- 
 stinate, and thoroughly selfish — loving only Hugh, Irene, and 
 himself. She was his only child ; her mother had died during 
 her infancy, and on this beautiful idol he lavished all the tender- 
 ness of which his nature was capable. His tastes were cultiva- 
 ted, his house was elegant and complete, and furnished magnifi- 
 cently ; every luxury that money could yield him he possessed, 
 yet there were times when he seemed moody and cynical, and no 
 one could surmise the cause of his gloom. To-night there was 
 no shadow on his face, however ; doubtless the sparkle of the 
 
 2 
 
26 macakia; ok, 
 
 wine-cup still shone in his piercing blue eye, and the girl looked 
 up at him fearing no denial. 
 
 " Father, I wish, please, you would give me two hundred dol- 
 lars." 
 
 " What would you do with it, Queen ?" 
 
 ** I do not want it for myself ; I should like to have that much 
 to enable a poor woman to recover her sight. She has cataracts 
 on her eyes, and there is a physician in New Orleans who can 
 relieve her. She is poor, and it will cost about two hundred dol- 
 lars. Father, won^t you give me the money ?" 
 
 He took the cigar from his lips, shook off the ashes, and ask- 
 ed indifferently : » 
 
 ^' What is the woman^s name ? Has she no husband to take 
 care of her ?" 
 
 " Mrs. Aubrey ; she — " 
 
 " What P' 
 
 The cigar fell from his fingers, he put her from his knee, and 
 rose instantly. His swarthy cheek glowed, and she wondered at 
 the expression of his eyes, so different from anything she had ever 
 seen there before. 
 
 " Father, do you know her ?" 
 
 " What do you know of her ? What business is it of yours, 
 whether she goes blind or not ? Is it possible Margaret allows 
 you to visit at that house ? Answer me ; what do you know 
 about her ?'^ 
 
 " I know that she is a very gentle, unfortunate woman ; that 
 she has many bitter trials ; that she works hard to support her 
 family ; that she is noble and — " 
 
 " Who gave you permission to visit that house ?" 
 
 " Xo permission was necessary. I go there because I love 
 her and Electra, and because I like Russell. Why should n't I 
 go there, sir ? Is poverty disgrace ?'' 
 
 ** Irene, mark me. You are to visit that house no more in 
 future ; keep away from the whole family. I will have no such 
 association. Xever let me hear their names again. Go to bed/' 
 
 " Give me one good reason, and I will obey you." 
 
 " Reason ! My will, my command, is sufficient reason. What 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 27 
 
 do you mean by catechising me in this way ? Imphcit obedience 
 is your duty." 
 
 The cahn, holy eyes looked wonderingly into his ; and as he 
 marked the startled expression of the girl's pure face his own 
 eyes drooped. 
 
 " Father, has Mrs. Aubrey ever injured you ?" 
 
 No answer. 
 
 " If she has not, you are very unjust to her ; if she has, re- 
 meml.)er she is a woman, bowed down with many sorrows, and it 
 is unmanly to hoard up old difiereuces. Father, please give m43 
 tiiat money." 
 
 " I will bury my last dollar in the Red Sea first ! Now are 
 you answered ?" 
 
 She put her hands over her eyes, as if to shut out some painful 
 vision ; and he saw the slight form shudder. In perfect silence 
 she took her books and went up to her room, Mr. Huntingdon 
 reseated himself as the door closed behind her, and the lamplight 
 sliowed a sinister smile writhing over his dark features. In the 
 busy hours of day, in the rush and din of active life, men can 
 drown remorseful wiiispers, and shut their eyes to the panorama 
 which memory strives to place before them ; but there come still 
 hours, solemn and inexorable, when struggles are useless, and the 
 phantom-recollections of early years crowd up like bannered 
 armies. He sat there, staring out into the starry night, and see- 
 ing by the shimmer of the setting moon only the graceful form 
 and lovely face of Amy Aubrey, as 'she had appeared to him in 
 other days. Could he forget the hour when she wrenched her 
 cold fingers from his clasp, and, in defiance of her father's wishes, 
 vowed she would never be his wife ? No ; revenge was sweet, 
 very sweet ; his heart had swelled with exultation when the ver- 
 dict of death upon the gallows was pronounced upon the husband 
 of iier choice ; and now, her poverty, her humiliation, her blind- 
 ness gave him deep, unutterable joy. The history of the past 
 was a sealed volume to his daughter, but she was now for the 
 first time conscious that her father regarded the widow and lier 
 son with unconquerable hatred ; and with strange, foreboding 
 dread she looked into the future, knowing that forgiveness 
 
28 MACAEIA ; OE, 
 
 was no part of bis nature ; that insult or injury was never 
 forgotten. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Whether the general rule of implicit obedience to parental 
 injunction admitted of no exceptions, was a problem which Irene 
 readily solved ; and on Saturday, as soon as her father and 
 cousin had started to the plantation (twenty-five miles distant), 
 she put on her hat, and walked to town. Wholly absorbed in 
 philanthropic schemes, she hurried along the sidewalk, ran up a 
 flight of steps, and knocked at a door, on which was written in 
 "kirge gilt letters " Dr. Arnold." 
 
 "Ah, Beauty ! come in. Sit down, and tell me what brought 
 you to town so early.'' 
 
 He was probably a man of fifty ; gruff in appearance, and 
 nnmistakably a bachelor. His thick hair was grizzled, so was 
 the heavy beard ; and the shaggy gray eyebrows slowly unbent, 
 as he took his visitor's little hands and looked kindly down into 
 her grave face. From her infancy he had petted and fondled 
 her, and she stood as little in awe of him as of Paragon. 
 
 " Doctor, are you busy this morning ?" 
 
 " I am never too busy to attend to you, httle one. What 
 is it ?" 
 
 *' Of course yon know that Mrs. Aubrey is almost blind." 
 
 " Of course I do, having been her physician." 
 
 "Those cataracts can be removed, however." 
 
 " Perhaps they can, and perhaps they can't." 
 
 " But the probabilities are that a good occulist can relieve 
 her." 
 
 " I rather think so." 
 
 " Two hundred dollars would defray all the expenses of a trip 
 to New Orleans for this purpose, but she is too poor to afford 
 it." 
 
 " Decidedly too poor." 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. S& 
 
 Tlis o-ray eyes twinkled promisingly, but be would not antici- 
 pate her. 
 
 " Dr. Arnold, don't you think you could spare that small sum 
 without much inconvenience ?" 
 
 " Really.! is that what you trudged into town for?" 
 
 " Yes, just that, and nothing else. If I had had the money I 
 should not have applied to you." 
 
 " Pshaw ! your father could buy me a dozen times." 
 
 " At any rate, I have not the necessary amount at my dispo- 
 sal just now, and I came to ask you to lend it to me." 
 
 " For how lono;, Beautv ?" 
 
 *' Till I am of age — perhaps not so long. I will pay you the 
 interest.'^ 
 
 " You will climb Popocatapeti, won't you ? Hush, child." 
 
 He went into the adjoining room, but soon returned, and re- 
 sumed his seat on the sofa by her side. 
 
 " Irene, did you first apply to your father ? I don't relish 
 the idea of being a dernier ressortP 
 
 " What difference can it make to you whether I did or did 
 not ? That I come to you at all is sufficient proof of my faith 
 in your generosity." 
 
 Hiram Arnold was an acute and practiced physiognomist, but 
 the pale, quiet face perplexed him. 
 
 " Do you want the money now ?" 
 
 '' Yes, if you please ; but before you give it to me I ought to 
 tell you that I want the matter ke[)t secret. No one is to know 
 anything about it — not even my father." 
 
 " Irene, is it right to inveigle me into schemes with which you 
 are ashamed to have your own father acquainted ?" 
 
 " You know tlie whole truth, therefore you are not inveigled : 
 and moreover. Doctor, I am not ashamed of anything I do." 
 
 She looked so unembarrassed that for a moment he felt 
 puzzled. 
 
 " I knew Mrs. Aubrey before her marriage." He bent for- 
 ward to watch the effect of his words, but if she really knew or 
 suspected aught of the past there was not the slightest intima- 
 tion of it. Putting back her hair, she looked up and answered : 
 
30 MACARIA ; OE, 
 
 " Thot should increase your willingness to aid her in her mis- 
 fortunes." 
 
 " Hold out your hand ; fifty, one hundred, a hundred and 
 fifty, two hundred. There, will that do ?" 
 
 " Thank you ! thank you. You will not need it soon, I 
 hope ?" 
 
 " Xot until you are ready to pay me." 
 
 " Dr. Arnold, you have given me a great deal of pleasure — 
 more than I can express. I — ." 
 
 " Don't try to express it, Queen. You have given me in- 
 finitely more, I assure you." 
 
 Her splendid eyes were lifted toward him, and with some sud- 
 den impulse she touched her lips to the hand he had placed on 
 her shoulder. Somethiuo" like a tremor crossed the doctor's 
 habitually stern mouth as he looked at the marvellous beauty of 
 the girl's countenance, and he kissed her slender fingers as rev- 
 erently as though he touched something consecrated. 
 
 " Irene, shall I take you home in my buggy ?" 
 
 " No, thank you, I would rather walk. Oh ! Doctor, I am 
 so much obliged to you." 
 
 She drew her hat over her face, and went down the steps. 
 Dr. Arnold walked slowly across the ofBce-floor with his hands 
 behind him ; the grim face was placid now, the dark furrows on 
 his brow were not half so deep, and as he paused and closed a 
 pondrous volume lying on the table, a smile suddenly flitted 
 over his features, as one sees a sunbeam struggle through rifts 
 in low rain-clouds. He put the book in the case, and locked 
 the glass door. The " Augustinian Theory of Evil" was con- 
 tained in the volume, which seemed by no means to have satis- 
 fied him. 
 
 " All a maze worse than that of Crete ! I will follow that 
 girl I she shall be my Ariadne in this Egyptian darkness. 
 Pshaw ! if His Highness of Hippo were right, what would be- 
 come of the world ? All social organizations are based (and 
 firmly too) on man's faith in man ; establish the universal de- 
 pravity, devilishness of the human race, and lo ! what supports 
 the mighty social fabric ! Machiavehsm ? If that queer little 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 31 
 
 ontraincd frectliinker, Irene, is not pure and sinless, then tliere 
 are neither seraphim nor cherubim in high heaven I Cyrus, bring 
 out my buggy." 
 
 In answer to Irene's knock, Eleetra opened the cottage door, 
 and ushered her into the small room which served as both 
 kitchen and dining-room. Everything was scrupulously neat, 
 not a spot on the bare polished floor, not a speck to dim the 
 purity of the snowy dimity curtains, and on the table in the 
 centre stood a vase filled with fresh fragrant flowers. In a low 
 chair before the open window sat the widow knitting a blue and 
 white nubia. She glanced round as Irene entered. 
 
 " Who is it, Eleetra V' 
 
 " Miss Irene, aunt." 
 
 " Sit down. Miss Irene ; how are you to day ?" 
 
 She spoke rapidly, and for a moment seemed confused, then 
 resumed her work. Irene watched her pale, delicate fingers, and 
 the long auburn lashes drooping over the colorless cheeks, and 
 when she looked up for an instant, the visitor saw that the" 
 mild, meek brown eyes were sadly blurred. If ever resignation 
 enthroned itself on a woman's brow, one might have bowed be- 
 fore Amy Aubrey's sweet, placid, subdued face. No Daniel 
 was needed to interpret the lines which sorrow had printed 
 around her patient, tremulous mouth, 
 
 " Mrs. Aubrey, I am sorry to hear your eyes are no better." 
 
 " Thank you for your kind sympathy. My sight grows more 
 dim every day." 
 
 " I should think netting would be injurious to you now." 
 
 " It is purely mechanical ; I use my eyes very little. Eleetra 
 arranges the colors for me, and I find it easy work." 
 
 Irene knelt down before her, and, folding one of the hands 
 in both hei*s, said eagerly : 
 
 " You shan't suffer much longer ; these veils shall be taken 
 off. Here is the money to enable you to go to Xew Orleans and 
 consult that physician. As soon as the weather turns cooler 
 you must start." 
 
 ^' Miss Irene, I cannot tax your generosity so heavily ; I have 
 no claim on your goodness. Indeed I " 
 
32 MAC ART A ; OR, 
 
 " Please don't refuse the money ! You will distress me very 
 much if you do. Why should you hesitate ? If it makes me 
 happy and benefits you, why will you decline it ? Do you think 
 if my eyes were in the condition of yours that I would not thank 
 you to reheve me ?•' 
 
 The widow had risen hastily, and covered her face with her 
 hands, while an unwonted flush dyed her cheeks. She trembled, 
 and Irene saw tears stealing through her fingers. 
 
 " Mrs. Aubrey, don't you think it is your duty to recover 
 your sight if possible ?" 
 
 " Yes, if I could command the means." 
 
 "You have the means ; you must employ them. There, I 
 will not take back the money ; it is yours." 
 
 " Don't refuse it, auntie, you will wound Irie," pleaded Elec- 
 tra. 
 
 How little they understood or appreciated the struggle in that 
 gentle sufiierer's heart ; how impossible for them to realize tlie 
 'humiliation she endured in accepting such a gift from the child 
 of Leonard Huntingdon ! 
 
 With a faltering voice she asked : 
 
 "Did your father send me this money ?" 
 
 " Xo." 
 
 It was the first time she had ever alluded to him, and Irene 
 saw that some painful memory linked itself with her father. What 
 could it be ? There was silence for a few seconds ; then Mrs. 
 Aubrey took the hands from her face and said : " Irene, I will 
 accept your generous offer. If my sight is restored, I can repay 
 you some day ; if not, I am not too proud to be under this great 
 obligation to you. Oh, Irene ! I can't tell you how much I 
 thank you ; my heart is too full for words." She threw her arm 
 round the girl's waist and strained her to her bosom, and the hot 
 tears fell fast on the waves of golden hair. A moment after, 
 Irene threw a tiny envelope into Electra's lap, and without an- 
 other word glided out of the room. The orphan broke the seal, 
 and as she opened a sheet of note paper a ten dollar bill slipped 
 out. 
 
ALTARS OF 6ACKIFICE. 33 
 
 " Electra, come to school Monday. The enclosed will pay 
 your tuition for two months longer. Please don't hesitate to ac- 
 cept it, if you really love 
 
 " Your friend Irene." 
 
 Mrs. Aubrey sat with her face in her hands, listening to the 
 mournful, solemn voice that stole up from the mouldering, dusty 
 crypts of by-gone years ; and putting the note in her pocket, 
 Electra leaned her head against the window and thanked God 
 fur the gift of a true friend. Thinking of the group she had just 
 left, Irene approached the gate and saw that Russell stood hold- 
 ing it open for her to pass. Looking up she stopped, for the ex- 
 pression of his face frightened and pained her. 
 
 " Russell, what is the matter ? oh ! tell me." 
 
 A scornful, defiant smile distorted his bloodless lips, but he 
 made no answer. She took his hand ; it was cold, and the fin- 
 gers were clenched. 
 
 " Russell, are you ill ?" 
 
 She shuddered at the glare in his black eyes. 
 
 " I am not ill." 
 
 " Won't you tell your friend what ails you ?" 
 
 ** I have no friend but my mother." 
 
 " Oh, Russell, Russell !" 
 
 Her head drooped, and the glittering hair swept as a veil be- 
 tween them. The low flute-like, pleading voice stirred his heart, 
 and the blood surged over his pallid forehead. 
 
 " I have been injured and insulted. Just now I doubt all peo- 
 ple and all things, even the justice and mercy of God." 
 
 " Russell, ' shall not the righteous Judge of all the earth do 
 right V " 
 
 '' Shall the rich and the unprincipled eternally trample upon 
 the poor and the unfortunate ?" 
 
 " Who has injured you ?" 
 
 " A meek looking man who passes for a Christian, who turns 
 pale at thg sound of a violin, who exhorts to missionary labors, 
 and talks often about widows and orphans. Such a man, know- 
 ing the circumstances that surround me, my poverty, my mother's 
 
 2* 
 
3i MACAKIA ; OR, 
 
 affliction, on l)are aud most unwarrantable suspicion turns me out 
 of ray situation as clerk, and endeavors to brand my name with in- 
 famy. To-day I stand disgraced in the eyes of the community, 
 thanks to the vile slanders of that pillar of the church, Jacob AYat- 
 son. Four years ago I went to my work quietly, hopefully ; but 
 now another spirit has entered and possessed me. Irene, I am des- 
 perate. Do you wonder ? It seems to me ages have rolled over 
 me since my mother kissed me this morning; there is a hissing ser- 
 peut in my heart which I have no power to expel. I could bear it 
 myself, but my motlier ! my noble, patient, suffering mother ! I 
 must go in, and add a yet heavier burden to those already crush- 
 ing out her life. Pleasant tidings, these I bring her : that her 
 son is disgraced, branded as a rogue !" 
 
 There was no moisture in the keen eye, no tremor in the me- 
 tallic ring of his voice, no relaxation of the curled lip. • 
 
 '* Can't you prove your innocence ? Was it money ? " 
 
 " Xo, it was a watch, which I gave up as security for draw- 
 ing a portion of my salary in advance. It was locked up in the 
 iron safe ; this morning it was missing, and they accuse me of 
 having stolen it." 
 
 He took off his hat as if it oppressed him, and tossed back Ms 
 hair. 
 
 " What will you do, Pvussell ? " 
 
 " I don't know yet." 
 
 " Oh ! if I could only help you." 
 
 She clasped her hands over her heart, and for the first time 
 since her infancy tears rushed down her cheeks. It was painful 
 to see that quiet girl so moved, and Russell hastily took the 
 folded hands in his, and bent his face close to hers. 
 
 " Irene, the only comfort I have is that you are my friend. 
 Don't let them influence you against me. Xo matter what you 
 may hear, beUeve in me. Oh ! Irene, Irene 1 believe in me al- 
 ways 1 " 
 
 He held her hands in a clasp so tight that it pained her, then 
 suddenly dropped them and left her. As a pantomime all this 
 passed between Electra's eyes ; not a word reached her, but she 
 knew that something unusual had occurred to bring her cousin 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 35 
 
 home nt tliat hour, and felt that now he was 1)nt the avant-cou- 
 rier of a new sorrow. She glanced toward her aunt's bowed 
 form, then smothered a groan, and sat waiting for the blow to 
 fall upon her. Why spring to meet it ? He went to his own 
 room first, and five, ten, fifteen minutes rolled on. She listened 
 to the fahit sound of his steps, and knew that he paced up and 
 down the floor ; five minutes more of crushing suspense, and he 
 came along the passage and stood at the door. She looked at 
 him, pale, erect, and firm, and slmddered in thinking of the 
 struggle which that calm exterior had cost him. Mrs. Aubrey 
 recognized the step, and looked round in surprise. 
 
 *' Electra, I certainly hear Russell coming." 
 
 He drew near and touched her cheek with his lips, saying ten- 
 derly: 
 
 " How is my mother ?" 
 
 '* Russell, what brings you home so early ? " 
 
 " That is rather a cold welcome, mother, but I am not astou- 
 islied. Can you bear to hear something unpleasant ? Hear, 
 put your hands in mine ; now listen to me. You know I drew 
 fifty dollars of my salary in advance, to pay Clark. At that 
 time I gave my watch to Mr. AVatson by way of pawn, he 
 seemed so reluctant to let me have the money ; you understand, 
 mother, why I did not mention it at the time. He locked it up 
 in the iron safe, to which no one has access except him and my- 
 self. Late yesterday I locked the safe as usual, but do not re- 
 member whether the watch was still there or not ; this morning- 
 Mr. Watson missed it ; we searched safe, desk, store, could find 
 it nowhere, nor the twenty-dollar gold piece deposited at the 
 same time No other money was missing, though the safe con- 
 tained nearly a thousand dollars. The end of it all is that I am 
 accused as the thief, and expelled in disgrace for — " 
 
 A low, plaintive cry escaped the widow's lips, and her head 
 sank heavily on the boy's shoulder. Passiflg his arm fondly 
 around her, he kissed her white face, and continued in the same 
 hushed, passionless tone, like one speaking under his breath, and 
 stilling some devouring rage : 
 
 " Mother, I need not assure you of my innocence. You know 
 
36 MACAEIA ; OR, 
 
 that I never could be guilty of what is imputed to me ; but, not 
 having it in my power to prove my innocence, I shall have to 
 suffer the disgrace for a season. Only for a season, I trust, mo- 
 ther, for in time the truth must be discovered. I have been 
 turned out of my situation, and, though they have no proof of my 
 guilt, they will try to brand me with the disgrace. But they 
 can't crush me ; so long as there remains a drop of ])lood in my 
 veins, I will scorn their slanders and their hatred. Don't cry, 
 mother ; your tears hurt me more than all my wrongs. If you 
 will only be brave, and put entire confidence in me, I shall bear 
 all this infinitely better. Look at the bitter truth, face to face ; 
 we have nothing more to lose. Poor, afflicted, disgraced, there 
 is nothing else on earth to fear ; but there is everything to hope 
 for ; wealth, name, fame, influence. This is my comfort ; it is 
 a grim philosophy, born of despair. I go forward from to-day 
 like a man who comes out of some fiery furnace, and, blackened 
 and scorched though he be, looks into the future without appre- 
 hension, feeling assured that it can hold no trials comparable to 
 those already past. Herein I am strong ; but you should have 
 another and far brighter hope to rest upon ; it is just such 
 ordeals as this for which religion promises you strength and 
 consolation. Mother, I have seen you su}jported by Christian 
 faith in a darker hour than this. Take courage, all will be well 
 some day." 
 
 For a few moments deep silence reigned in the little kitchen, 
 and only the Infinite eye pierced the heart of the long-tried siif- 
 ferer. When she raised her head from the boy's bosom, the face, 
 though tear-stained, was serene, and, pressing her lips twice to 
 his, she said slowly : 
 
 " ' Beloved, think it not strange concerning the fiery trial 
 which is to try you ; as though some strange thing happened 
 unto you. For whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth, and scourg- 
 eth every son whom he receiveth.' I will wait patiently, my son, 
 hoping for proofs which shall convince the world of your inno- 
 cence. I wish I could take the whole burden on my shoulders, 
 and relieve you, my dear boy." 
 
 " You have, mother ; it ceases to crush me, now that you 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 37 
 
 are yourself once more." He spoke with difficulty, however, as 
 if sonietliino- stifled liim, and, rising hastily, poured out and 
 drank a glass of water. 
 
 " And now, Russell, sit down and let rae tell you a little that 
 is pleasant and sunshiny. There is still a bright spot left to 
 look upon." 
 
 Stealing her hand into his, the mother informed him of all *' 
 that had occurred during Irene's visit, and concluded by laying 
 the money in his palm. 
 
 Electra sat opposite, watching the change that came over the 
 face she loved best on earth. Her large, eager midnight eyes 
 noted the quick flush and glad light which overspread his fea- 
 tures ; the deep joy that kindled in his tortured soul ; and un- 
 consciously she clutched her fingers till the nails grew purple, 
 as though striving to strangle some hideous object thrusting 
 itself before her. Her breathing became labored and painful, 
 her gaze more concentrated and searching, and when her cousin 
 exclaimed : " Oh, mother 1 she is an angel ! I have always 
 knoVn it. She is unlike everybody else I" Electra's heart 
 seemed to stand still ; and from that moment a sombre curtain 
 fell between the girl's eyes and God's sunshine. She rose, and 
 a silent yet terrible struggle took place in her passionate soul. 
 Justice and jealousy wrestled briefly ; she would be just though 
 every star fell from her sky, and with a quick, uncertain step 
 she reached Russell, thrust Irene's note into his fingers, and fled 
 into solitude. An hour later, Russell knocked at the door of 
 an office, which bore on a square tin plate these words, " Robert 
 Campbell, Attorney at Law." The door was partially closed, 
 and as he entered an elderly man looked up from a desk, covered 
 with loose papers and open volumes from which he was evi- 
 dently making extracts. The thin hair hung over his forehead 
 as if restless fingers had ploughed carelessly through it, and, as 
 he kept one finger on a half-copied paragraph, the cold blue 
 eye said very plainly, ''this is a busy time witli me ; dispatch 
 your errand at once." 
 
 "Good morning, Mr. Campbell; are you particularly en- 
 gaged ?" 
 
38 MACAEIA ; OR, 
 
 " How-d'y-clo, Aubrey. I am generally engaged ; confound- 
 edly busy this morning. What do you want ?" 
 
 His pen resumed its work, but he turned his head as if to 
 listen. 
 
 '' I will call again when you are at leisure," said Russell, 
 turning away. 
 
 " That will be — next month — next year ; in fine, postponing 
 your visit indefinitely. Sit down — somewhere^-well — clear 
 those books into a corner, and let's hear your business. I am 
 at your service for ten minutes — talk fast." 
 
 He put his pen behind his ear, crossed his arms on the desk, 
 and looked expectant. 
 
 ,. " I came here to ask whether you wished to employ any one 
 in your office." 
 
 " And what the deuce do you suppose I want with an office- 
 lad like yourself ? To put the very books I need at the bottom 
 of a pile tall as the tower of Babel, and tear up briefs to kindle 
 the fire or light your segar ? Xo, thank you, Aubrey, I tried 
 that experiment to my perfect satisfaction a few months ago. 
 Is that all ?" 
 
 "That is all, sir." * 
 
 The boy rose, but the bitter look that crossed his face as he 
 glanced at the well-tilled book-shelves arrested the lawyer's at- 
 tention, and he added : 
 
 *' Why did you leave Watson, young man ? It is a bad plan 
 to change about in this style." 
 
 ''I was expelled from my situation on a foul and most un- 
 just accusation. I am seeking employment from necessity." 
 
 " Expelled is a dark word, Aubrey ; it will hardly act as a 
 passport to futui'e situations. Expelled clerks are not in de- 
 mand." 
 
 " Still, I must state the truth unreservedly." 
 
 " Let's hear the whole business, sit down." 
 
 Without hesitation he narrated all the circumstances, once or 
 twice pausing to still the tempest of passion that flashed from 
 his eyes. While he spoke, Mr. Campbell's keen eyes searched 
 him from head to foot, and at the conclusion he asked sharply : 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 39 
 
 " Where is the watch, do you suppose ?'^ 
 
 " Heaven only kno.ws. I have a suspicion, but no right to 
 utter it, since I might thereby inflict a wrong equal to that from 
 which I now suffer." 
 
 " It is a dark piece of business as it stands." 
 
 " Yes, but time will clear it up." 
 
 " See here, Aubrey, I have noticed you two or three times in 
 the court-house listening to some of my harangues. I knew 
 your father, and I should like to help you. It seems to me you 
 might make better use of your talents than you are doing. And 
 yet, if you rise it will l:>e over greater obstacles than most men 
 surmount. Do you understand me ?" 
 
 *' I do ; for I am too painfully aware of the prejudice against 
 which I have to contend. But if I live, I shall lift myself out of 
 this pool where malice and hate have thrust me." 
 
 " What do you propose to do ?" 
 
 '' Work at the plough or before the anvil, if nothing else can 
 be done to support my mother and cousin ; and as soon as I 
 possibly can study law. This is my j^lan, and for two years I 
 have been pursuing my Latin and Greek with an eye to accom- 
 plishing the scheme." 
 
 "I see fate has thumped none of your original obstinacy out 
 of you. Aubrey, suppose I shut my eyes to the watch trans- 
 action, and take you into my office ?" 
 
 " If so, I shall do my duty faithfully. But you said you did 
 not need any one here, and though I am anxious to find work, I 
 do not expect or desire to be taken in from charity. I intend 
 to earn my wages, sir, and from your own account I should 
 judge you had very little use for an assistant." 
 
 " Humph I a bountiful share of pride along with prodigious 
 obstinacy. Though I am a lawyer, I told you the truth ; I have 
 no earthly use for such assistants as I have been plagued with 
 for several years. In the main, office-boys are a nuisance, com- 
 I)arable only to the locusts of Egypt ; I washed my hands of 
 the whole tribe months since. Now, I have a negro to attend 
 to my office, make fires, etc., and if I could only get an intelli- 
 
4:0 MACAEIA ; OR 
 
 g-ent, ambitious, honorable, trustworthy young man, he would 
 be a help to me. I had despaired of finding such, but, on the 
 whole, I rather like you ; believe you can suit me exactly if you 
 will, and I am disposed to give you a trial. Sit down here and 
 copy this paragraph ; let me see what sort of hieroglyphics I 
 shall have to decipher if I make you my copyist." 
 
 Russell silently complied, and after a careful examination it 
 seemed the chirography was satisfactory. 
 
 " Look there, Aubrey, does that array frighten you ?" 
 He pointed to the opposite side of the room, where legal doc- 
 uments of every shape and size were piled knee-deep for several 
 yards. 
 
 " They look formidable, sir, but nothing would afford me 
 more pleasure than to fathom their mysteries. 
 
 " And what security can you give me that the instant my 
 back is turned you will not quit my work and go off to my books 
 yonder, which I notice you have been eying very greedily ?" 
 
 " Xo security, sir, but the promise of an honest soul to do its 
 work faithfully and untiringly. Mr. Campbell, I understand my 
 position thoroughly ; I know only too well that I have every- 
 thing to make, an honorable name, an unblemished reputation, 
 and, relying only on myself, I expect to help myself. If you 
 really need an assistant, and think me trust-worthy, I will be 
 very glad to serve you, and shall merit your confidence. I come 
 to you under adverse circumstances, with a tarnished character, 
 and of course you feel some hesitancy in employing me. I have 
 concealed nothing ; you are acquainted with all the facts, and 
 must decide accordingly." 
 
 There was nothing pleading in his tone or mien, but a proud, 
 desperate calmness, unusual in one of his age. When a truly 
 honest, noble soul meets an equal, barriers of position and age 
 melt like snow-flakes in sunshine, all extraneous circumstances 
 fall away, and, divested of pomp or rags, as the case may be, the 
 full, undunmed majesty of spirit greets spirit, and clear-eyed sym- 
 pathy, soaring above the dross and dust of worldly conventional- 
 ities, knit them in bonds lastinor as time. Looking into the reso- 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 41 
 
 lute yet melancholy face before hino, the lawyer forgot the pov- 
 erty and disgrace clinging to his name, and leaning forward 
 grasped his hand. 
 
 " Aubrey, you and I can work peaceably together ; I value 
 your candor, I like your resolution. Come to me on Monday, 
 and in the matter of salary you shall find me liberal enough. I 
 think you told me you had a cousin as well as your mother to 
 sui)port ; I shall not forget it. Now, good-morning, and leave 
 me unless you desire to accumulate work for yourself." 
 
 People called Mr. Campbell "miserly," " egotistic," and "self- 
 ish." These are harsh adjectives, and the public frequently a}> 
 plies them with culpable haste and uncharitableness, for there is 
 an astonishing proclivity m human nature to detract, to carp, to 
 spy out, and magnify faults. If at all prone to generous deeds, 
 Mr. Campbell certainly failed to placard them in public places ; 
 he had never given any large amount to any particular church, 
 institution, or society, but the few who knew him well indignant- 
 ly denied the charge of penuriousness preferred by the communi- 
 ty. A most unsafe criterion is public estimation ; it canonizes 
 many an arch-hypocrite, and martyrs many a saint. 
 
 CHAPTER lY. 
 
 From early childhood Irene had experienced a sensation of 
 loneliness. Doubtless the loss of her mother enhanced this feel- 
 ing, but the peculiarity of her mental organization would have 
 necessitated it even under happier auspices. Her intellect was 
 of the masculine order, acute and logical, rather deficient in the 
 imaginative faculties, but keenly analytical. It is an old predi- 
 cate that women are deductionists, that womanly intuitions are 
 swift and infallible. In richly-endowed female minds it not un- 
 frequently happens that tedious, reflective processes are ignored ; 
 but Irene was a patient rather than brilliant thinker, and with 
 singular perseverance searched every nook and cranny, and sifted 
 
42 MACARTA ; OR, 
 
 every phase of the subject presented for investigation. Her con- 
 clusions were never hasty, and consequently rarely unsound. 
 From tlie time her baby-finger? first grasped a primer, she be- 
 came a student ; dolls and toys, such as constitute the happiness 
 of most children, had never possessed any attraction for her, and 
 before she was eight years old she made the library her favorite 
 resort. She would climb upon the morocco-covered table where 
 stood two globes, one celestial, the other terrestrial, and spend 
 hours in deciphering the strange, heathenish figures twined among 
 the stars. When weary of studying the index of the thermome- 
 ter and barometer, and wondering why the quicksilver varied 
 with sunshine and shower, she would throw herself down on the 
 floor and fall asleep over the quaint pictures in an old English 
 encyclopaedia, numbering thirty volumes. She haunted this 
 room, and grew up among books centuries old. Thus until her 
 tenth year there was no authority exerted over her, and the 
 strong, reflective tendency of her mind rapidly developed itself. 
 This was an abnormal condition, and indisputably an unfortunate 
 training, and perhaps in after years it might have been better 
 had she spent the season of careless, thoughtless childhood in 
 childish sports and childhood's wonted ways, for anxious inquiry 
 and tedious investigations come soon enough with maturity. 
 
 She was not an enthusiastic, impulsive nature, fitful in moodi- 
 ness or ecstacy, inclined to passionate demonstrations of any 
 kind ; but from infancy evinced a calm, equable temperament, 
 uniformly generous and unselfish, but most thoroughly firm, nay 
 obstinate, in any matter involving principle, or conflicting with 
 her opinions of propriety. How she obtained these notions of 
 right and wrong in minor details, was a subject of some mystery. 
 They were not the result of education in the ordinary accepta- 
 tion of that term, for they had never been instilled by anybody ; 
 and like a wood-flower in some secluded spot, she lived, grew, 
 and expanded her nature, without any influences to bias or color 
 her views. In her promiscuous reading she was quite as apt to 
 imbibe poisonous as healthy sentiments, and knowing that she bad 
 been blessed with few religious instructions, her father often 
 wondered at the rigidness of her code for self-regulation. Miss 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 43 
 
 Margaret considered lier " a strange little thing," and rarely in- 
 terfered with her plans in any respect, while her father seemed to 
 take it for granted that she required no looking after. Tie knew 
 that her beauty was extraordinary ; he was proud of the fact ; 
 and having provided her with a good music master, and sent her 
 to the best school in the connty, he left her to employ her leisure 
 as inclination prompted. Occasionally her will conflicted with 
 his, and more than once he found it impossible to make her yield 
 assent to his wishes. To the outward observances of obedience 
 and respect she submitted, but whenever these differences 
 occurred he felt that m the end she was unconquered. Incon- 
 sistent as it may appear, though fretted for the time by her 
 firmness, he loved her the more for her " wilfulness," as he termed 
 it ; and despotic and exacting though he certainly was in many 
 respects, he stood somewhat in awe of his pure-hearted, calm- 
 eyed child. His ward and nephew, Hugh Seymour, had resided 
 with him for. several years, and it w^as well-known that Mr. 
 Huntingdon had pledged his daughter's hand to his sister's son. 
 The age of infant betrothals has passed away, consequently this 
 rare instance gave rise to a deal of gossiping comment. How 
 the matter became public he never knew ; probably Sparrow- 
 grasse's " carrier pigeon" migrated southward, for it is now no 
 uncommon thing to find one in our cities and country towns ; 
 and at all events Mr. Huntingdon soon fomid that his private 
 domestic affairs were made an ordinary topic of conversation in 
 social circles. Irene had never be^n officially apprised of her 
 destiny, but surmised very accurately the true state of the case. 
 Between the two cousins there existed not the sli"-htest con^-eni- 
 ality of taste or disposition ; not a sympathetic link, save the tie 
 of relationship. On her part there w^as a moderate share of 
 cousinly affection ; on his, as much love and tenderness as his 
 seliisli nature was capable of feeling. They rarely quarrelled as 
 most children do, for when (as frequently happened) he flew into 
 a rage and tried to tyrannize, she scorned to retort in. any way, 
 and generally locked him out of the library. What she thought 
 of her father's intentions concerning herself, no one knew ; she 
 never alluded to the subject, and if in a frolicsome mood Hugh 
 
44 MACAEIA ; OR, 
 
 broached it, -she invariably cut the discussion short. When he 
 went to college in a distant state, she felt infinitely relieved, and 
 during his vacations secluded herself as much as possible. Yet 
 the girl's heart was warm and clinging ; she loved her father de- 
 votedly, and loved most intensely Electra Grey, whom she had 
 first met at school. They were nearly the same age, classmates, 
 and firm friends. That she was beautiful, Irene of course knew 
 quite as well as her father or any one else ; how could she avoid 
 knowing it ? From her cradle she had been called '' Queen" 
 and " Beauty ;" all her acquaintances flattered her — strangers 
 commented on her loveliness ; she no more doubted it than the 
 fact of her existence, and often stopped before the large parlor 
 mirrors and admired her own image, just as she would have ex- 
 amined and admired and enjoyed one of the elegant azaleas or 
 pelargoniums in the greenhouse. I repeat it, she prized and 
 enjoyed her loveliness, but she was not vain. She was no more 
 spoiled by adulation than a meek and snowy camelia, or one of 
 those immense golden-eyed pansies which astouisli and delight 
 visitors at the hot-houses on Long Island. God conferred mar- 
 vellous beauty on her, and she was grateful for the gift — but to 
 the miserable weaknesses of vanity, she was a stranger. In the 
 midst of books and flowers she was happy, and seemed to desire 
 no companions but Erebus and Paragon. She rode every day 
 when the weather permitted, and the jetty horse with its grace- 
 ful young rider, followed by the slender, silky greyhound, was a 
 femiliar spectacle in the vicinity of her home. She knew every 
 hill and valley within ten miles of the town ; could tell where 
 the richest, rarest honeysuckles grew, where the yellow jasmine 
 clambered in greatest profusion, and always found the earhest 
 sprays of graybeard that powdered the forest. Often Mr. Hunt- 
 ingdon had ordered his horse, and gone out in the dusky twihght 
 to search for her, fearing that some disaster had overtaken his 
 darling ; and at such times met Erebus laden with her favorite 
 flowers. These were the things she loved, and thus independent 
 of society, yet conscious of her isolation, she grew up what nature 
 intended her to be. As totally different in character as appear- 
 ance was Electra Grey. Rather smaller and much thinner than 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 45 
 
 TiTiie, with shining, purjilish black haii-, large, sad, searching 
 black eyes, from which there was no escape, a pale olive com- 
 plexion, and full crimson lips that rarely smiled. The forehead 
 was broad and prominent, and rendered very peculiar bv the re- 
 markable widtli between the linely-arched brows. The serene 
 purity characteristic of Irene's features was entirely wanting in 
 this i\ice, which would have seemed Jewish in its contour but for 
 tlie Grecian nose ; and the melaiK^holy yet fascinating eyes 
 haunted the beholder with their restless, wistful, far-reaching ex- 
 pression. Electra was a dreamer, richly gifted ; dissatisfied be- 
 cause she could never attain that unreal world which her busy 
 brain kept constantly before her. The child of genius is rarely, 
 if ever, a happy one — 
 
 " Heaven lies about us in our infancy." 
 
 If so, its recollections chng tenaciously to those who, like Elec- 
 tra, seek continually for the airy castles of an ideal realm. Her 
 vivid imagination shaped and painted, but, as too often happens, 
 her eager blood and bone fingers could not grasp the glories. 
 The thousand cares, hardships, and rough handlings of reality 
 struck cold and jarring on her sensitive, highly-strung nature. 
 Slie did not complain ; murmuring words had never crossed her 
 lips in the hearing of any one who knew her ; she loved her aunt 
 too well to speak of sorrow or disappointment. Fourteen years 
 had taught her an unusual amount of stoicism, but sealed lips 
 can not sepulchre grief, and trials have a language which will 
 not be repressed when the mouth is at rest. She looked not 
 gloomy, nor yet quite unhappy, but like one who sees obstacles 
 mountain-high loom between her and the destined goal, and asks 
 only permission to press on. Hers was a passionate nature ; 
 fierce blood beat in her veins, and would not always be bound by 
 icy fetters. There w^as no serene plateau of feeling where she 
 could repose ; she enjoyed keenly, rapturously, and suffered 
 acutely, fearfuUy. Unfortunately for her, she had only Himal- 
 ayan solitudes, sublime in their dazzling height, or valleys of 
 Tophet, appalling with flame and phantom. She knew wherein 
 she was gifted, she saw whither her narrow pathway led, and 
 
46 MAOAEIA ; OR, 
 
 panted to set her little feet in the direction of the towering 
 steeps crowned with the temple of art. To be an artist ; to put 
 on canvas the grand and imperishable images that crowded her 
 brain, and almost maddened her because she could not give them 
 tangible form ; this was the day-dreani spanning her life like a 
 bow of promise, but fading slowly as years thickened o'er her 
 head, and no helping hand cleared the choked path. " Poyerty ! 
 poverty !" Many a night she buried her face under the pillow, 
 and hissed the word through closed teeth, fearful of disturbing 
 the aunt, who slumbered at her side. Poverty ! poverty ! 
 What an mtolerable chain it binds around aspiring souls ! And 
 yet the world's great thinkers have felt this iron in their flesh, 
 and, bursting the galling bonds, have carved their way to emi- 
 nence, to immortality. It is a lamentable and significant truth 
 that, with a few honorable, noble exceptions, wealth is the 
 Cannae of American intellect. Poverty is a rigid school, and the 
 sessions are long and bitter ; but the men and women who 
 graduate therein come forth with physical frames capable of en- 
 during all hardships, with hearts habituated to disappointment 
 and fortified against the rebuffs of fortune, with intellects trained 
 by patient, laborious, unbending application. The tenderly-nur- 
 tured child of wealth and luxury very naturally and reasonably 
 shrinks from difficulties ; but increase the obstacles in the path 
 of a son or daughter of penury, inured to trial, and in the same 
 ratio you strengthen his or her ability and determuiation to sur- 
 mount them. 
 
 Electra's love of drawing had early displayed itself ; first, in 
 strange, weird figures on her slate, then in her copy-book, on 
 every slip of paper which she could lay her hands upon ; and, 
 finally, for want of more suitable material, she scrawled all over 
 the walls of the Uttle l^ed-room, to the great horror of her aunt, 
 who spread a coat of whitewash over the child's frescos, and 
 wegged her to be guilty of no such conduct in future, as Mr. 
 Clark might with great justice sue for damages. In utter hu- 
 miliation, Electra retreated to the garden, and here, after a 
 shower had left the sandy walks white and smooth, she would 
 sharpen a bit of pine, and draw figures and faces of all conceiva- 
 
ALTAES OF SACRIFICE. 47 
 
 ble and inconceivable sliapes. Chancing to find her thus en- 
 gaged one Sunday afternoon, Russell supplied her with a package 
 of drawing-paper and pencils. So long as these lasted she was 
 perfectly hajipy, but unluckily their straightened circumstances 
 admitted of no such expenditure, and before many -weeks she was 
 again without materials. She would not tell Russell that she 
 had exhausted his package, and passed sleepless nights trying to 
 devise some method by w^hich she could aid herself. It was 
 l)Ositive torture for her to sit in school and see the drawing- 
 master go round, giving lessons on this side and that, skipping 
 over her every time, because her aunt could not afford the extra 
 three dollars. How longingly the eyes followed the master's 
 form, how hungrily they dwelt upon the sketches he leaned over 
 to examine and retouch ? Frequently during drawing-hour she 
 would sit with her head bent down pretending to study, but the 
 pages of the book were generally blistered with tears, which no 
 eye but the Father's looked upon. There w^as, however, one en- 
 joyment which nothing could steal from her ; the town contained 
 two book-stores, and here she was wont to linger over the numer- 
 ous engravings and occasional oil paintings they boasted. The 
 proprietors and clerks seemed rather pleased than otherwise by 
 the silent homage she paid their pictures, and, except to tender 
 her a seat, no one ever interfered w^ith her examinations. One 
 engraving interested her particularly ; it represented St. John 
 on Patmos, writing Revelations. She went as usual one Satur- 
 day morning for another look at it, but a different design hung 
 in its place ; she glanced around, and surmising the object of her 
 search, the proprietor told her it had been sold the day before. 
 An expression of sorrow crossed her face, as though she had sus- 
 tained an irreparable loss, and, drawing her bonnet dowai, she 
 went slowly homeward. Amid all these yearnings and aspira- 
 tions she turned constantly to Russell, with a w^orshiping love 
 that knew no bounds. She loved her meek, affectionate aunt as 
 well as most natures love their mothers, and did all in her power 
 to lighten her labors, but her affection for Russell bordered on 
 adoration. In a character so exacting and passionate as hers 
 there is necessarily much of jealousy, and thus it came to pass 
 
48 MACARIA ; OE, 
 
 that, on the day of Irene's visit to the cottage, the horrible sus- 
 picion took possession of lier that he loved Irene better than her- 
 self. True, she was very young, but childish hearts feel as 
 keenly as those of maturer years ; and Electra endured more 
 agony during that day than in all her past life. Had Irene been 
 other than she was, in every respect, she would probably have 
 hated her cordially ; as matters stood, she bm'ied the suspicion 
 deep in her own heart, and kept as much out of everybody's way 
 as possible. Days and weeks passed very wearily ; she busied 
 herself with her text-books, and, when the lessons had been re- 
 cited, drew all over the margins — here a hand, there an entii'e 
 arm, now and then a face, sad-eyed as Fate. 
 
 ilrs. Aubrey's eye became so blurred that finally she could 
 not leave the house without having some one to guide her, and, 
 as cold weather had now arrived, preparations were made for 
 her journey. Mr. Hill, who was going to New Orleans, kindly 
 offered to take charge of her, and the day of departure was 
 fixed. Electra packed the little trunk, saw it deposited on the 
 top of the stage, in the dawn of an October morning saw her 
 aunt comfortably seated beside Mr. Hill, and in another moment 
 all had vanished. In the afternoon of that day, on returning 
 from school, Electra went to the bureau, and, unlocking a draw- 
 er, took out a small paper box. It contained a miniature of her 
 father, set in a handsome gold frame. She knew it had been 
 her mother's most valued trinket ; her aunt had carefully kept 
 it for her, and as often as the temptation assailed her she had 
 resisted ; but now the longing for money triumphed over every 
 other feeling. Having touched the spring, she took a knife and 
 cautiously removed the bit of ivory beneath the glass, then de- 
 posited the two last in the box, put the gold frame in her 
 pocket, and went out to a jewelery store. As several persons 
 had preceded her, she leaned against the counter, and, while 
 waiting, watched with some curiosity, the movements of one of 
 the goldsmiths, who, with a glass over one eye, was engaged in 
 repairing watches. Some had been taken from the cases, others 
 were untouched ; a3sA. as her eyes passed swiftly over the latter, 
 they were suddenly riveted to a massive gold one lying some- 
 
ALTAKS OF SACRIFICE. 49 
 
 what npart. A lialf-smotliered exclamation caused the work- 
 maa to turn round and look at her, but in an instant she calmed 
 herself, and thinking it a mere outbreak of impatience, he re- 
 sumed his employment. Just then one of the proprietors ap- 
 proached, and said politely, " I am sorry we have kept you 
 waiting, miss. What can I do for you ?" 
 
 " What is this worth ?" 
 
 She laid the locket down on the counter, and looked up with 
 eyes that sparkled very joyously he thought. He examined it 
 a moment, and said rather dryly : 
 
 "It is worth little or nothing to us, though you may prize 
 it." 
 
 " If I were to buy another just like it, would you charge me 
 ' little or nothing V " 
 
 He smiled good-humoredly. 
 
 " Buying and selling are different things, don't you know 
 that ? Come, tell me what you want to sell this for ?" 
 
 " Because I want some money." 
 
 " You are Mrs. Aubrey's niece, I believe ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " Well, how do I know, in the first place, that it belongs to 
 you ? Jewellers have to be very particular about what they 
 buy." 
 
 She crimsoned, and drew herself proudly away from the coun- 
 ter, then smiled and held out her hand for the locket. 
 
 '' It is mine ; it held my father's miniature, but I took it out 
 because I want a paint-box, and thought I could sell this case 
 for enough to buy one. It was my mother's once ; here are her 
 initials on the back, H. G. Harriet Grey. But of course you 
 don't know whether I am telHng the truth ; I will bring my 
 cousin with me, he can prove it. Sir, are you so particular 
 about everything you buy ?" 
 
 " We try to be.". 
 
 Again her eye^ sparkled ; she bowed, and left the store. 
 
 Once in the street, she hurried to Mr. Campbell's office, ran 
 up the steps, and rapped loudly at the do^*. 
 
 *' Come in 1" thundered the lawyer. 
 
 3' 
 
50 MACARIA ; OK, 
 
 She stopped on the threshold, glanced round, and said tim- 
 idly : 
 
 " I want to see Russell, if you please." 
 
 " Russell is at the post-ofnce. Have you any particular spite 
 at my door, that you belabor it in that style ? or do you suppose 
 I am as deaf as a gate-post ?" 
 
 " I beg your pardon ; I did not mean to startle you, sir. I 
 was not thinking of either you or your door." 
 
 She sprang down the steps to wait on the sidewalk for her 
 cousin, and met him at the entrance. 
 
 " Oh, Russell ! I have found your watch." 
 
 A ray of light seemed to leap from his eyes as he seized her 
 hand. 
 
 " Where ?" 
 
 " At Mr. Brown's jewelry store." 
 
 " Thank God !" 
 
 He went up tlie stairway, delivered the letters, and came back, 
 accompanied by Mr. Campbell. 
 
 " This is my cousin, Electra Gray, Mr. Campbell." 
 
 "So I inferred from the unceremonious assault she made on 
 my door just now. However, shake hands, little lady ; it seems 
 there is some reason for your haste. Let's hear about this pre- 
 cious watch business." 
 
 She simply told what she had seen. Presently Russell said : 
 
 " But how did you happen there, Electra ?" 
 
 "Your good angel seni me, I suppose ; and," she added in a 
 whisper, " I will tell you some other time." 
 
 On re-entering the store, she walked at once to the workman's 
 corner, and pointed out the watch. 
 
 " Yes, it is mine. I would know it among a thousand." 
 
 " How can you identify it, Aubrey ?" 
 
 He immediately gave the number, and name of the manufac- 
 turer, and described the interior tracery, not omitting the quan- 
 tity of jewels. Mr. Campbell turned to the proprietor (the same 
 gentleman with whom Electra had conversed), and briefly reca- 
 pitulated the circumstances which had occurred in connection 
 with the watch. Mr. Brown listened attentively, then requested 
 
• ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 51 
 
 Kussell to point out tlic })artieiilar one that resembled his. He 
 did so, and on examination, the nnmbcr, date, name, and all the 
 marks corresponded so exactly that no doubt remained on the 
 jeweller's mind. 
 
 " Young man, you say you were accused of stealing your own 
 watch?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Then I will try to clear your name. This watch was 
 brought here several weeks since, while I was absent. I am very 
 guarded in such matters, and require my young men here to take 
 a certificate of the name and place of residence of all strangers 
 who offer articles for sale or exchange. I once very innocently 
 bought some stolen property, and it taught me a lesson. This 
 watch was sold for ninety dollars by a man named Rufus Tur- 
 ner, who lives in New Orleans, No. 240 street. I will 
 
 write to him at once, and find out, if possible, how it came into 
 his possession. I rather think he had some horses here for 
 sale." 
 
 " Did he wear green glasses ?" inquired Russell of the young 
 man who had purchased the watch. 
 
 " Yes, and had one arm in a sling." 
 
 " I saw such a man here about the time my watch was miss- 
 ing." 
 
 After some directions from Mr. Campbell concerning the pro- 
 per course to be pursued, Electra drew out her locket, saying — 
 
 " Now, Russell, is not this locket mine ?" 
 
 *' Yes ; but where is the miniature ? What are you going to 
 do with it ?" 
 
 " The miniature is at home, but I Avant to sell the frame, and 
 Mr. Brown does not know but that it is another watch case." 
 
 "If it is necessary, I will swear that it belongs lawfully to 
 you ; but what do you want to sell it for ? I should think you 
 would prize it too highly to be willing to part wnth it." 
 
 " I do prize the miniature, and would not part with it for any 
 consideration ; but I want something far more than a gold caso 
 to keep it in." 
 
52 MACARTA ; OK, 
 
 " Tell me what you want, and I will get it for you," whisper- 
 ed her cousin. 
 
 " Xo — I am GToino; to sell this frame." 
 
 " And I am going to buy it from you," said the kind-hearted 
 merchant, taking it from her hand and weighing it. 
 
 Russell and Mr. Campbell left the store, and soon after Mr. 
 Brown paid Elcctra several dollars for the locket. 
 
 In half an hour she had purchased a small box of paints, a 
 supply of drawing-paper and pencils, and returned home, happier 
 and prouder than many an empress, whose jewels have equalled 
 those of the Be2:ums of Oudc. She had cleared Russell's cha- 
 racter, and her hands were pressed over her heart to still its 
 rapturous throbbing. Ilappy as an uncaged bird, she arranged 
 the tea-table and sat down to wait for him. He came at last, 
 later than usual, and then she had her reward ; he took her in 
 his arms and kissed her. And yet, while his lip rested on hers, 
 Irene's image rose before her, and he felt her shiver as she clung 
 to him. He was her idol, and the bare suggestion of his loving 
 another better chilled the blood in her veins. He spoke little of 
 the watch, appeared to miss his mother, and soon went to his 
 room and began to study. How ignorant he was of what passed 
 in his cousin's heart ; how little he suspected the intensity of her 
 feelings ! Constantly occupied during the day, he rarely thought 
 of her away from home ; and, though always kind and consid- 
 erate, he failed to understand her nature, or fully appreciate her 
 affection for him. Many days elapsed before Mr. Turner's answer 
 arrived. He stated that he had won the watch from Cecil Wat- 
 son, at a horse-rac?, v/here both were betting ; and proved the 
 correctness of his assertion by reference to several persons who 
 were present, and who resided in the town. Russell had sus- 
 pected Cecil from the moment of its disappearance, and now, 
 provided with both letter and watch, and accompanied by Mr. 
 Brown, he repaired to Mr. Watson's store. Russell had been 
 insulted, his nature was st^rn, and now he exulted in the povrer of 
 disgracing the son of the man who had wronged him. There was 
 no flush on his face, but a cold, triumphant glitter in his eyes as 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 53 
 
 lie nppronolied liis formor cini)loyer, nnd laid watcli and letter 
 before liim. 
 
 " What business have you here ?" growled the merchant, 
 trembling before the expression of the boy's countenance. 
 
 " 3Iy business is to clear my character Avhich you have slan- 
 dered, and to lix the disgrace you intended for me on your own 
 son. I bring you the proofs of his, not my villainy." 
 
 " Come into the back-room, I will see Brown another time/' 
 said Watson, growing paler each moment. 
 
 " No, sir ; you were not so secret in your dealings with me. 
 Here where you insulted me you shall hear the whole truth. 
 Read tliat. I suppose the twenty-dollar gold piece followed the 
 watch." 
 
 The unfortunate father perused the letter slowly, and smoth- 
 ered a groan, llussell watched him with a keen joy which he 
 might have blushed to acknowledge had he analyzed his feelings. 
 Writhing under his impaling eye, Mr. Watson said : 
 
 " Have you applied to the witnesses referred to ?" 
 
 " Yes ; they are ready to swear that they saw Cecil bet Tur- 
 ner the watch." 
 
 " You did not tell them the circumstances, did you ?" 
 
 " Xo." 
 
 " Well, it is an unfortunate affair ; I want it dropped as qui- 
 etly as possible. It will never do to have it known far and 
 wide." 
 
 " Aha I you can feel the sting now. But remember you took 
 care to circulate the slander on my name. I heard of it. You 
 did not spare me, you did not spare my mother ; and, Jacob 
 Watson, neither will I spare you. You never believed me guilty, 
 but you hated me and gloried in an opportunity of injuring me. 
 Do you suppose I shall shield your unprincipled son for your 
 sake ? You showed me no mercy, you may expect as Uttle. The 
 story of the watch shall make its way wherever we " 
 
 He paused suddenly, for the image of his gentle, forgiving- 
 mother rose before him, and he knew that she would be grieved 
 at the spirit he evinced. There was an awkward silence, broken 
 by Mr. Watson. 
 
54 MACAETA ; OK, 
 
 " If I rotr[*?t all that I have said against you, and avow your 
 innocence, will it satisfy you ? Will you be silent about Cecil ?" 
 
 "No !'' rose peremptorily to bis lips, but he checked it ; and 
 the patient teaching of years, his mother's precepts, and his mo- 
 ther's prayers brought forth their first fruit, golden charity. 
 
 " You merit no forbearance at my hands, and I came here in- 
 tending to show you none ; but, on reflection, I will not follow 
 your example. Clear my name before the public, and I leave 
 the whole affair with you. There has never been any love be- 
 tween us, because you were always despotic and ungenerous, but 
 I am sorry for you now, for you have taught me how heavy is 
 the burden you have to bear in future. Good-morning." 
 
 Afraid to trust himself, he turned away and joined Mr. Camp- 
 bell in the office. 
 
 In the afternoon of the same day came a letter from Mr. Hill 
 containing sad news. The oculist had operated on Mrs. Au- 
 brey's eyes, but violent hiflammation had ensued ; he had done 
 all that scientific skill could prompt, but feared she would be 
 hopelessly blind. At the close of the letter Mr. Hill stated that 
 he would bring her home the following week. One Xovtmber 
 evening, just before dark, while Russell was cutting wood for the 
 kitchen-fire, the stage stopped at the cottage-gate, and he hurried 
 forward to receive his mother in his arms. It was a melancholv 
 reunion ; for a moment the poor sufferer's fortitude forsook her, 
 and she wept. But his caresses soothed her, and she followed 
 Electra into the house while he brought in the trunk. When 
 shawl and bonnet had been removed, and Electra placed her in 
 the rocking-chair, the light fell on face and figure, and the cou- 
 sins started at the change that had taken place. She was so 
 ghastly pale, so very much reduced. She told them all that had 
 occurred during the tedious weeks of absence ; how much she 
 regretted having gone since the trip proved so unsuccessful ; 
 how much more she deplored the affliction on their account than 
 her own ; and then from that hour uo allusion was ever made 
 to it. 
 
 V 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 55 
 
 CITArTER y. 
 
 Weeks and months slipped away, and total darkness came 
 down on the widow. She groped with some difficnlty from 
 room to room, and Electra was compelled to remain at home 
 and watch over her. Russell had become a great favorite witli 
 his crusty employer, and, when the labors of the office were end- 
 ed, brought home such books as he needed, and spent his even- 
 ings in study. His powers of application and endurance were 
 extraordinary, and his progress was in the same ratio. As he 
 became more and more absorbed in these pursuits his reserve and 
 taciturnity increased, and his habitually hasty step and abstract- 
 ed expression of countenance told of a strong nature straining 
 its powers to the utmost to attain some distant, glimmering 
 goal. His employer was particularly impressed by the fact that 
 he never volunteered a remark on any subject, and rarely opened 
 his lips except to ask some necessary information in connection 
 with his business. Somethnes the silence of the office was un- 
 broken for hours, save by the dull scratching of pens, or an im- 
 patient exclamation from Mr. Campbell. Respectful in deport- 
 ment, attentive to his duties, never presuming on kindness, con- 
 stantly at work from morning until night, yet with an unmis- 
 takable sorrow printed on his face — a sorrow never obtruded 
 on any one, never alluded to — he won first the rigid scrutiny of 
 the lawyer, then his deepest, most abiding affection. Naturally 
 cold and undemonstrative in manner, Mr. Campbell gave little 
 evidence of feeling of any kind, yet the piercing blue eye lost its 
 keenness when resting on the tall, stalwart form of the clerk, and 
 once or twice the wrinkled hand sought his broad shoulder 
 almost caressingly. He had not married ; had neither mother 
 nor sisters to keep his nature loving and gentle, and, though 
 he occasionally visited his brother, who was a minister in the 
 same town, he was held in awe by the members of that brother's 
 family. lie comprehended Russell's character, and quietly facili- 
 tated his progress. There was no sycophancy on the part of the 
 young man, no patronage on that of the employer. 
 
56 MACARIA ; OR, 
 
 • 
 
 One afternoon Irene tapped lightly at the cottage-door, and 
 entered tlie kitchen. ;\[rs. Aubrey sat iu a low chair close to 
 the fireplace, engaged in knitting ; her smooth, neat calico dress 
 and spotless linen collar told that careful liauds tended her, and 
 the soft auburn hair brushed over her temples showed broad 
 bands of gray as the evening sun shone on it. She turned her 
 L'own, sightless eyes toward the door, and asked in a low voice : 
 
 " A^'ho is it ?" " 
 
 " It is only me, Mrs. Aubrey." 
 
 Irene bent down, laid her two hands on the widow's, and 
 kissed her forehead. 
 
 '' I am glad to hear your voice, Irene ; it has been a long 
 time since you were here." 
 
 " Yes, a good many weeks, I know, but I could not come." 
 
 " Are you well ? Your hands and face are cold." 
 
 " Yes, thank you, very well. I am always c old, I believe. 
 Hugh says I am. Here are some flowers from the greenhouse. 
 I brought them because they arc so fragrant ; and here, too, 
 are a few oranges from the same place. Hush ! don't thank me, 
 if you please. I wish I could come here oftener. I always feel 
 better after being with you ; but I can't always come when I 
 want to do so." 
 
 '' Why not, Irene ? " 
 
 " Oh, because of various things. Between school and music, 
 and riding and reading, I have very httle time ; and besides, fa- 
 ther wants me with him when he is at home. I play chess with 
 him, and sometimes we are three or four days finishing one 
 game. Somehow, Mrs. Aubrey, though I don't mean to be idle, 
 it seems to me that I do very little. Every body ought to be of 
 some use in this world, but I feel like a bunch of mistletoe, 
 growing on somebody else, and doing nothing. I don't intend to 
 sit down and hold my hands all my life, but what can I do ? 
 Pell me how to begin." 
 
 She lifted a large tortoise-colored cat from a small stool, and 
 drew it near the hearth, just at the widow's feet, seating herself, 
 and removing her hat. 
 
 " That is more easily asked than answered ; you are a great 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 57 
 
 heiress, Irene, and in all hiinian proV)al)ility will never be obliged 
 to do anything. For what is generally denominated work you 
 will have no occasion ; 1)ut all who wish to be really happy 
 shonld be employed in some way. You will not have to labor 
 for your food and clothes, like Mr. Russell and Electra ; but you 
 will have it in your power to do a vast deal more good. In 
 cultivating your mind do not forget your heart ; it is naturally 
 full of very generous, noble impulses ; but all human beings 
 have faults ; what yours may be you know best, and you should 
 constantly strive to correct them. Read your Bible, dear child ; 
 not now and then, but daily and prayerfully. Oh, Irene I I 
 have had some bitter, bitter sorrows, and frequently I thought 
 that they would crush out my life. In those times of trial if I 
 had not ray Bible and my God, I believe I should have lost my 
 reason. But I read and was comforted. His promises sustain- 
 ed me ; and in looking back I see many places which should be 
 called Jehovah Jlreh, for the Lord saw and provided. Your 
 Bible will teach you your duty much better than I possibly can. 
 You owe your father a great deal ; his hopes and joys centre hi 
 you, and through life he will look to you for his happiness. 
 When you are grown, society, too, will claim you ; you will be 
 souglit after and flattered ; and, Irene, under thene circumstan- 
 ces — with your remarkable beauty and wealth — you will find it 
 a difficult matter to avoid being spoiled. Your influence will be 
 very great, and a fearful responsibility must attend its employ- 
 ment. Let it be for good. Try to keep your heart free from 
 all selfish or ignoble feelings ; pray to God for guidance, that 
 you may be enabled through His grace to keep yourself * un- 
 spotted from the world ; ' those words contain the whole, ' un- 
 spotted from the icorhV You have not been spoiled thus far 
 by luxury and life-long petting, and I hope and believe that you 
 never will be ; but remember, we must be continually on the 
 watch against temptation. Irene, have I spoken too plainly ?" 
 " Xo, I thank you for your candor. I want you to advise me 
 just as you would Electra. I don't read my Bible as often as I 
 ought, but there are so many things in it which I do not under- 
 
 3* 
 
58 MACARTA ; OR, 
 
 stand, that I liardly ever open it no\v. I have nobody to ex- 
 plain the difficulties." 
 
 " It is very clear on the subject of our duty ; God left not 
 the shadow of mystery in his laws for the government of the 
 heart and regulation of the life. He commands us to receive 
 certain rnles, to practise certain principles, and to abstain from 
 certain sinful things, all of which are specified, and not to be 
 mistaken by even the most obtuse. Melvill has said in one of 
 his beautiful and comforting sermons : ' God breathed himself 
 into the compositions of prophets and apostles and evangelists, 
 and there, as in the mystic recesses of an everlasting sanctuary, 
 he still resides, ready to disclose himself to the humble, and to 
 be evoked by the prayerful. Bat in regard to erery other book, 
 however fraught it may be with the maxims of piety, however 
 pregnant with momentous truth, there is nothing of this shrining 
 himself of Deity in the depths of its meaning. Men may be in- 
 structed by its pages, and draw from them hope and consolation, 
 but never will they find there the burning Sliekinah which pro- 
 claims the actual presence of God ; never hear a voice as from 
 the solitudes of an oracle pronounciug the words of immortality.' " 
 
 " How then does it happen, Mrs. Aubrey, that different 
 churches teach such conflicting doctrines ? Why are there so 
 many denominations ? If the teachings of the Bible are so 
 plain, how can such various creeds arise ?" 
 
 " Because poor human nature is so full of foibles ; because 
 charity, the fundamental doctrine of Christ, is almost lost 
 sight of by those churches ; it has dwindled into a mere speck, 
 in comparisou with the trifles which they have magnified to 
 usurp its place. Instead of one great Christian chm'ch, holding 
 the doctrines of the Xew Testament, practising the true spirit 
 of the Saviour, and in genuine charity allowing its members to 
 judge for themselves in the minor questions relating to religion : 
 such for instance as the mode of bajjtism, the privilege of be- 
 lieving presbyters and bishops equal in dignity, or otherwise, as 
 the case may be, the necessity of ministers wearing sui-plice, or 
 the contrary, as individual taste dictates, we have various deno- 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 59 
 
 minations, all erected to promulgate some particular dogma, to 
 magnify and exalt as all-important some trifling difference in the 
 form of church government. Once establisiied, the members of 
 each sect apply themselves to the aggrandizement of their pecu- 
 liar church ; and tlius it comes to pass that instead of one vast 
 brotherhood, united against siu and infidelity, they are disgrace- 
 fully wrangling about sectarian matters of no consequence 
 whatever. In all this there is much totally antagonistic in the 
 principles inculcated by our Saviour, who expressly denounced 
 the short-sighted bigotry of those who magnified external ob- 
 servances and non-essentials at the expense of the genuine spirit 
 of their religion. I wish most earnestly that these denomina- 
 tional barriers and distinctions could be swept away, that the 
 names of Methodist and Episcopal, Presbyterian and Baptist 
 could be obliterated, and that all the members were gathered 
 harmoniously into one world-wide pale, the Protestant Church 
 of our Lord Jesus Christ." 
 
 '* Mrs. Aubrey, do you belong to any church ?•' 
 " Yes, Irene, because Christ founded a church, and I think 
 every man and woman sliould belong to some religious organiza- 
 tion. Moreover, unless a member of some one of the denomi- 
 nations, you can not commune ; and, as the sacrament was par- 
 ticularly established by our Saviour, all ouglit to be able to 
 partake of it. I think it a matter of little consequence which 
 of tlie evangelical sects one selects. Do not imagine that I be- 
 lieve people can only be saved by entrance into some church ; I 
 think no such thing ; the church is a valuable instrument, but 
 God who established it can work without it. Still, it is very 
 reasonable to suppose that regular attendance on divine service 
 fosters piety and keeps the subject of our duty more constantly 
 before us." 
 
 She had finished her knitting, and sat with her hands folded 
 in her lap — the meek face more than usually serene, the sight- 
 less eyes directed toward her visitor. Sunshine fleeted the bare 
 boards under the window, flashed on the tin' vessels ranged on 
 the shelves, and lingered hke a halo around Irene's head. Her 
 hair swept on the floor, and the cat played now and then with 
 
60 MACARIA ; OR, 
 
 the golden rintrs so softly as not to attract notice, as though 
 conscious the new toy was precious. Tlie countenance of the 
 group contrasted vividly : the svreet resignation of the blind 
 sufferer, the marble purity of Irene's face, and just in the rear, 
 Electra's broad, pale brow and restless, troubled, midnight eyes. 
 The latter had been drawing at the table in the middle of the 
 room, and now sat leaning on her hand,\vatching the two at the 
 fire. Presently Irene approached and began to examine the 
 drawings, which were fragmentary, except one or two heads, and 
 a sketch taken from the bank opposite the Falls. After some 
 moments passed in looking over them, Irene addressed tlie quiet 
 little figure. 
 
 " Have you been to Mr. Chfton's studio ?'' 
 
 " No ; who is he ?" 
 
 " An artist from Xew York. His health is poor, and he is 
 spending the winter south. Have n't you heard of him ? Every- 
 body is having portraits taken. lie is painting mine now — fa- 
 ther would make me sit again, though he has a likeness which 
 was painted four years ago. I am going down to-morrow for 
 niy last sitting, and should like very much for you to go with 
 me. Perhaps Mr. Clifton can give you some valuable hiuts. 
 Will you go ?'' 
 
 "With great pleasure." 
 
 " Then I will call for you a little before ten o'clock. Here 
 are some crayons I bought for you a week ago. Good-by." 
 
 She left the room as quietly as she had entered, and found 
 Paragon waiting for her at the door. He gambolled before her 
 all the way — now darting ofi, and as suddenly returning, to 
 throw himself at her feet and wonder why she failed to caress 
 him as usual. Other thoughts engaged her now ; she could see 
 nothing but the form of the widow, and to-day she realized more 
 than ever before how much she needed a mother. Low, sweet, 
 gentle tones rarely fell upon her ear, and, except her father and 
 Dr. Arnold, no one had ever attempted to caress her. She 
 wearied of the fourteen years of isolation, and now on enterhig 
 her fifteenth looked about her for at least one congenial spirit. 
 She knew of none but Elcctra and Mrs. Aubrey who in any de- 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 61 
 
 grcp sympathized with her, and from these slie was debarred by 
 parental interdict. Miss M-argaret, seconded by Mr. Hunting- 
 don, now constantly prescribed a course of conduct detestable to 
 the girl, who plainly jicrcoived that as she grew older these dif- 
 ferences increased. Was it her duty to submit unhesitatingly to 
 their dictation ? Did the command of filial obedience embrace 
 all such matters, or was it modified — limited by the right of in- 
 dividual conscience ? This consultation was long and patient, 
 and the conclusion unalterable. She would do what she be- 
 lieved to be proper, whatever she thought her duty, at all haz- 
 ards. She had no one to guide her, and must rely only on God 
 and her own heart. 
 
 The following day Miss Margaret accompanied her to the 
 studio. As the carriage approached the cottage-gate, Irene di- 
 rected the driver to stop. 
 
 " For what ?'' asked her aunt. 
 
 " Electra Grey is going with me ; I promised to call for her. 
 She has an extraordinary talent for drawing, and I want to in- 
 troduce her to Mr. Clifton. Open the door, Andrew." 
 
 " Irene, are you deranged ! Your father never would forgive 
 you if he knew you associated with those pooi)!e. I can't think 
 of allowing that girl to enter this carriage. Drive on. I must 
 really speak to Leonard about your obstinacy in visiting at 
 that—" 
 
 "Stop, Andrew ! If you don't choose to ride with Electra, 
 aunt Margaret, you may go on alone, for either she shall ride or 
 I will walk with her." 
 
 Andrew opened the door, and she was stepping out, when 
 Electra appeared in the walk and immediately joined her. Miss 
 Margaret was thoroughly aroused and indignant, but thought it 
 best to submit for the time, and when Irene introduced her friend 
 she took no notice of her whatever, except by drawing herself 
 up in one corner and lowering her veil. The girls talked during 
 the remainder of the ride, and when they reached Mr. Clifton's 
 door ran up the steps together, totally unmindful of the august 
 lady's ill humor. 
 
 The artist was standing before an easel which held Irene's un- 
 
02 macaria; or, 
 
 finished portrait, and as he turned to greet his visitors, Electra 
 saw that, tliough thiu and pale, his face was one of rare beauty 
 and benevolence. His brown, curling hair hung loosely about 
 his shoulders, and an uncommonly long beard of the same silky 
 texture descended almost to his waist. He shook hands with 
 Irene, and looked inquiringly at her companion. 
 
 " ^Ir. Clifton, this is Miss Electra Grev, whose drawings I 
 mentioned to you last week. I wisli, if you please, you would 
 examine some of them when you have leisure." 
 
 Electra looked for an instant into his large, clear gray eyes 
 as he took her drawings and said he would be glad to assist her, 
 and knew that henceforth the tangled path would be smoothed 
 and widened. She stood at the back of his chair during: the 
 hour's sitting, and with peculiar interest watched the strokes of 
 his brush as the portrait grew under his practised hand. When 
 Irene rose, the orphan moved away and began to scrutinize the 
 numerous })ictures scattered about the room. A great joy filled 
 her heart and illumined her fac^ and she waited for the words 
 of encouragement that she felt assured would be spoken. The 
 artist looked over her sketches slowly, carefully, and his eye went 
 back to her brilliant countenance, as if to read there answers to 
 ciphers which perplexed him. But yet more baflaing cryptogra- 
 phy met him in tiie deep, flashing, appealing eyes, on the crim- 
 son, quivering lips, on the low, full brow, with its widely-separa- 
 ted black arches. Evidently the face possessed far more attrac- 
 tion than the drawings, and he made her sit down beside him, 
 and passed his hand over her head and temples, as a professed 
 phrenologist might preparatory to rendering a chart. 
 
 " Your sketches are very rough, very crude, but they also dis- 
 play great power of thought ; some of them singular beauty of 
 conception ; and I see from your countenance that you are dis- 
 satisfied because the execution falls so far short of the concep- 
 tion. Let me talk to you candidly ; you have uncommon tal- 
 ent, but the most exalted genius can not dispense with laborious 
 study. Michael Augelo studied anatomy for twelve years ; vou 
 will require long and earnest apphcation before you can possibly 
 accomplish anything of importance. The study of Art is no 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. C3 
 
 mere pastime, as some people suppose ; an artist's life is an ar- 
 duous one at best. I liave been told something of yonr history ; 
 you are very poor, and wi^h to make painting a profession. 
 Think well before you decide this matter ; remember tliat long, 
 tedious months must elapse before you can hope to execute even 
 an ordinary portrait. You must acquaint yourself with the 
 anatomy of the human system before you undertake anything. 
 I thought I had finished my course seven years ago, but I went 
 to Italy and soon saw that I had only begun to learn my profes- 
 sion. Think well of all this." 
 
 '' I have thought of it ; I am willing to work any number of 
 years ; I have decided, and I am not to be frightened from my 
 purpose. I am poor, I can barely buy the necessary materials, 
 much less the books, but I will be an artist yet. I have decided, 
 sir ; it is no new whim ; it has been a bright dream to me all 
 my life, and I am determined to realize it." 
 
 " Amen ; so let it be, then. I shall remain here some weeks 
 longer ; come to me every day at ten o'clock, and I will instruct 
 you. You shall have such bo^Sks as you need, and with perse- 
 verance you have nothing to fear." 
 
 He went into the adjoining room, and returned with a small 
 volume. As he gave it to her, with some directions concernino- 
 the contents, she caught his hand to her lips, saying hnstily : 
 
 " My guardian angel certainly brought you here to spend the 
 winter. Oh, sir ! I will prove my gratitude for your goodness 
 by showing that I am not unworthy of it. I thank you from 
 the very depths of my glad heart." 
 
 As she released his hand and left the studio he found two 
 bright drops on his fingers, drops called forth ])y the most in- 
 tense joy she had ever known. Having some connnission from 
 her aunt, she did not re-enter the carriage, and, after thanking 
 Irene for her kindness, walked away. The ride home was very 
 s.Ient, iMi<s Margaret sat stiff and icy, looking quite insulted, 
 while her niece was too much engrossed by other refiections t<i 
 notice her. The latter spent the remainder of the morning in 
 writing to Hugh and correcting her French exercises, and when 
 summoned to dinner she entered the room expecting a storm. A 
 
Gi MAC ART A. ; OR, 
 
 glance sufficed to sbow Ler that Miss Margaret had not yet 
 spoken to her father ; though it was evident from her counte- 
 nance that she was about to make what she considered an im- 
 portant revelation. The meal passed, however, without any allusion 
 to the subject, and, knowing what she had to expect, Irene ii)i- 
 mediately withdrew to the library to give her aunt an oppor- 
 tunity of unburdening her mind. The struggle must come some 
 time, and she longed to have it over as soon as possible. She 
 threw up the sash, seated herself on the broad cedar window-sill, 
 and began to work out a sum in Algebra. Nearly a half-hour 
 passed ; the slamming of the dining-room door was like the first 
 line of foam, curling and whitening the sea when the tempest 
 sweeps forward ; her father stamped into the library, and the 
 storm Ijroke over her. 
 
 " Irene ! did n't I positively order you to keep away from 
 that Aubrey family ? What do you mean by setting me at de- 
 fiance in this way, you wilful, spoiled, hard-headed piece ? Do 
 you suppose I intend to put up with your obstinacy all my life, 
 and let you walk roughshod over me and my commands ? You 
 have queened it long enough, my lady. If I don't rein you up, 
 you v\'ill turn your aunt and me out of the house next, and invite 
 that precious Aubrey crew to take possession. Your confound- 
 ed stubbornness will ruin you yet. You deserve a good whip- 
 ping, miss ; I can hardly keep ray hands off of you." 
 
 He did not ; rough hands seized her shoulder, jerked her from 
 the window-sill, and sliook her violently. Down fell l)ook, slate, 
 and pencil with a crash ; down swept the heavy hair, blinding her. 
 She put it back, folded her hands behind her as if for support, 
 and, looking up at him, said in a low, steady, yet grieved tone : 
 " I am very sorry you are angry with me, father." 
 " Devilish sorry, I dare say ! Don't be hypocritic?.l ! Did n't 
 I tell you to keep away from those people ? Dou't stand there 
 like a block of stone ; answer me ! " 
 
 " Yes, sir ; but I did not promise to do so. I am not hypo- 
 critical, father." 
 
 " You did not promise, indeed ! What do I care for prom- 
 ises ? It was your duty to obey me." 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. C5 
 
 " I don't tliiiik it v/as, fatlier, wlien you refiisod tog:ivome any 
 reason for avoiding Mrs. Aubrey or her family. They are unfor- 
 tunate, but lionorable people ; and, being very poor and afflict- 
 ed, I felt sorry for them. I can't sec how my going there oc- 
 casionally harms you, or me, or anybody else. I know very 
 well that you dislike them, but you never told me why, and I 
 cm not hnagine any good reason for it. Father, if I love them, 
 why should not I associate v/ith them ? " 
 
 " Because I say you shan't ! you tormenting, headstrong little 
 imp ! -' 
 
 " My father, that is no reason." 
 
 *' Reason ! I wiil put you where you will have no occasion 
 for reasons. Oh ! I can match you, you perverse little wretch ! 
 I am going to send you to a boarding-school, do you hear that ? 
 send you where you will have no Aubrey's to abet your obsti- 
 nacy and disobedience ; where that temper of yours can be 
 curbed. How will you relish getting up before day, kindling 
 your own firQ, if you have any, making your own bed, and liv- 
 ing on bread and water ? I will take you to New York, and 
 keep you there till you arc grown and learn common sense. 
 Now get out of my sight ! " 
 
 With a stamp of rage, he pointed to the door. Hitherto she 
 had stood quite still, but now an expression of anguish passed 
 swiftly over her face, and she put out her hands appealingly — _i:: 
 
 " Father ! my father ! don't send me away ! Please let me " 
 stay at home." 
 
 " Not if I live long enough to take you. Just as certainly as 
 tlie sun shines in heaven, you will go as soon as your clothes can 
 be made. Your aunt will have you ready in a week. Don't 
 open your mouth to me ! I don't want to hear another word 
 from you. Take yourself off." 
 
 She picked up her slate and book and left the room. Her hat 
 hung on the rack in the hall, and, taking it down, she passed 
 out through the rear piazza. Paragon leaped and whined at 
 sight of her ; she unchained him, and, leaving the yard, turned 
 into a narrow zigzag path, leading in an opposite direction from 
 the fi'ont of the house. The building stood on quite a hill, one 
 
m 
 
 (j6 mac aria ; or, 
 
 side of whicli sloped down to the brink of a creek that emptied 
 itself into the river a mile above the town. This declivity was 
 thickly wooded, and, on the opposite side of the stream, a dense 
 swamp stretched away. Cypress, pine, beech, magnolias tower- 
 ed far as the eye could reach, and now, in the gathering gloom 
 of evening, looked sombre and solemn. This was a favorite 
 haunt of Irene's ; she knew every nook of the forest and bend 
 of the creek as well as the shy rabbits that flitted away at her 
 approach ; and, on this occasion, she sought a rude seat, formed 
 by the interlacing of two wild grape-vines. At her feet the 
 channel ran deep and strong, and the rocky bed was distinctly 
 seen ; but a few yards off the stream widened into a small lake, 
 and there, on its dark, still surface, masses of water-lilies spread 
 out their broad, green, glossy leaves. It was a lonely place ; 
 even in the day owls hooted one to another, and strange, harsh 
 cries were heard from birds that never forsook the swamp. It 
 was April, early April, and from the hill-side, fringed with 
 honeysuckles of varied hue, and festooned ^\ith yellow jasmine 
 tliat clambered in wild luxuriance over tree and shrub, the south- 
 ern breeze wafted spicy, intoxicating aromas. Redbuds lifted 
 their rosy limbs against dark, polished magnolias, and here and 
 there masses of snow told where the dogwoods grew. Clusters 
 of violets embroidered the hill-side, and crimson woodbine trail- 
 d over the ground, catching at every drooping bough, and 
 limbing stealthily, auxious, like all weak natures, to hang on 
 something sturdy. Irene usually revelled amid this wealth of 
 floral beauty, but now she could not enjoy it. She looked at her 
 favorites, and understood what was meant by the words — 
 
 " I see tliem all so excellently fair, 
 I see, not feel, how beautiful they are." 
 
 The first great grief of her life had fallen on her ; heretofore 
 all had been so serene, so flowery, that she could not easily un- 
 derstand or endure the crushing weigflt on her heart. Reared 
 in seclusion, the thought of her being sent from her beautiful, 
 luxurious home, and thrust among utter strangers, startled and 
 tilled her with dread. She was astonished, pained, and mortified 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 67 
 
 by her father's Imrsh l:inguai:^e ; and, loving him very sincerely, 
 she shrank from the long separation he threatened : yet, amid 
 all these complex emotions, she felt not the slightest regret for 
 the conrse she had pursued ; under similar circumstances she 
 would again act just as she had done. Then came the remem- 
 brance that she might meet her unfortunate friends no more. 
 Mrs. Aubrey was evidently dechning rapidly, and what would 
 become of Electra and Russell ? They might move away ; they, 
 too, might die ; nay, she might never come back to the home of 
 her birth ; death's harvest was in all seasons, and, looking upon 
 the lakelet, she shuddered and moaned. The snowy water-lilies 
 glanced up at her, and seemed to say, as they trembled unceas- 
 ingly in the current far below the surface, '' bend ! bend !" A 
 passage in Dante, which she had read the week before, crossed 
 her mind now, as she noted the constant swaying of the fragile 
 flowers, so impotent to resist that under-current sweeping their 
 roots : 
 
 " No other plant, 
 
 Covered with leaves, or hardened in its stalk, 
 There lives, not bending to the water's swa}'." 
 
 ITe had selected reeds as a type of patience, but the pale, pure, 
 quivering lilies were to her a far more impressive symbol of re- 
 signation. An aged gnarled cypress towered above her, and from 
 tlie knotted limbs drooped long funeral wreaths of gray moss,^^ 
 fluttering mournfully in the evening wind, like badges of craped 
 in houses of death. From amid this somljre drapery came the 
 lonely hoot of an owl, and, with a strange sensation of desola- 
 tion, Irene fell on her knees and committed herself to the care 
 of the Great Shepherd. Darkness closed around, but as she 
 prayed the silver rays of the evening star peered down through 
 the trembling streamers of moss, and gleamed on the upturned 
 face. She broke one of the lilies, and, fastening it among her 
 curls, followed Paragon up the hill-side. The week whicli suc- 
 ceeded was wretched to the girl, for her father's surveillance 
 prevented her from visiting the cottage, even to say adieu to its 
 imnates ; and no alternative presented itself but to leave foi* 
 them (in the hands of Nellie, her devoted nurse,) a note contain- 
 
• 
 
 68 MACAKIA ; OR, 
 
 iiig a few parting words and assurances of unfading friendsliip 
 and remembrance. The day of departure dawned rainy, gloomy, 
 and the wind sobbed and wailed down the avenue as Irene stood 
 at her window, looking out on the lawn where her life had been 
 passed. Although Nellie was weeping bitterly at her side, she 
 had not shed a tear ; but the face was full of grief, and her lit- 
 tle hands were clasped tightly as the faithful nurse pressed them 
 affectionately in her palms. Disengaging herself, Irene took an 
 umbrella and went to the stable for a last look at Erebus. Tiiis 
 tried her sorely, and her lip was unsteady when she left him and 
 sought Paragon. The latter, little suspecting the true state of 
 affairs, gambolled and whined as joyously as ever at her ap- 
 proach ; and, when the crowned head went down moaningly on 
 his silky neck, he barked and frisked in recognition of the caress. 
 The breakfast-bell summoned her away, and, a half-hour after, 
 she saw the lofty columns of the old house fade from view, and 
 knew that many months, perhaps years, must elapse before the 
 ancestral trees of the Ions: avenue would wave as-aiu over the 
 head of their young mistress. Her father sat beside her, moody 
 and silent, and, when the brick wall and arched iron gate van- 
 ished from her sight, she sank back in one corner, and, covering 
 her face with her hands, smothered a groan and fought desper- 
 ately with her voiceless anguish. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Youth is hopeful, beautifully hopeful, and fresh, pure hearts 
 rebound from sorrow with wonderful elasticity. When clouds 
 lower and the way seems dark and tangled, hope flies forward, 
 }»ioaeer-like, to clear away all obstacles. Huge barriers frown- 
 ed between Electra and the heights she strained every nerve to 
 reach, but never for an instant did she doubt the success of the 
 struggle. Like Orpheus seeking Eurydice, to look back was 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. ()9 
 
 fearful and liazardous ; aiul fixing her eyes steadily ou the 
 future, she allowed herself no haunting foreboding. 
 
 " Cry, faint not ! climb the summit's slope 
 Beyond the farthest flights of hope, 
 Wrapt in dense cloud from base to cope." 
 
 What human powers can endure and accomplish is to be 
 measured only by the necessity which goads, and all herculean 
 trophies are won by desperate needs. Th6 laws which govern 
 our moral and intellectual natures are as rigid and inevitable 
 in their operation as those whose workings we constantly trace 
 in the physical world ; of which truth the history of nations 
 and memoirs of great men furnish innumerable exemplifications. 
 Consequently, it is both unjust and illogical to judge of the 
 probability of this or that event or series of events, or the natu- 
 ralness of this or that character, whether in authenticated his- 
 tory or fictitious works, without a thorough acquaintance with 
 all antecedents, and the various relations surrounding the actor. 
 Header, as you walk side by side with these whose lives I am 
 narratingr bear this in mind — the silver-winored pio-eons that 
 flash in and out of the venerable trees shading the old home- 
 stead, and coo and flutter amid the rainbow spray of the foun- 
 tain, would droop, shiver, and die on bald, awful Alpine pin- 
 nacles, where in the fierce howl, and scourging of tempests 
 eaglets wheel in triumph, and scream defiantly ; and tender 
 pet lambs, coaxed into flowery, luxuriant meadows, would soon 
 make their graves in the murderous snow over which young 
 chamois bleat and skip in wild glee, fearless as the everlasting 
 hills. 
 
 Day after day Electra toiled over her work ; the delicate 
 frame learned its destiny, sighed at its future, but grew strong ; 
 and complaining nerves, catching some of her iron resolve, en- 
 dured patiently — became finally thoroughly inured to their 
 arduous duties. Her aunt constantly claimed her attention for 
 the various little offices so grateful to an invalid, but by an 
 extraordinary alchemy she contrived to convert every interrup- 
 tion into an occasion of profit. If lending her arm to support 
 
 ^. 
 
70 MACAEIA : OR 
 
 A 
 
 the drooping form in a short walk around the little garden, she 
 would describe the varying tints of the sky, as the clouds shifted 
 their gorgeous curtains of purple and scarlet and gold, until 
 thoroughly familiarized with the varied chameleon hues and 
 strange, grotesque outlines traced by every rift. Nature was 
 a vast storehouse of matchless, unapproachable beauty to that 
 eager, thirsty soul — a boundless studio, filled with wonderful 
 creations, open to her at all times — in the rosy, opaline flush of 
 morning, the blazing splendor of full-orbed noon, the silver gray 
 of twilight, peopled with dusky phantoms, weird and shifting 
 as Fata-Morgana — the still sublimity, the solemn, sacred witch- 
 ery of star-crowned, immemorial Night. She answered the 
 first hoarse call of thunder by stationing herself at the window 
 to watch the stormy panorama sweep over the heavens; and 
 not Ruysdael, nor Vandervelde, nor Turner ever gazed with 
 more intense delight on the hurrying masses of vapor than that 
 fragile girl, as she stood with forked lightning glaring luridly 
 over her upturned, enraptured face. Favored ones of fortune 
 lean against marble pillars in royal museums, to study the im- 
 perishable works of earth's grandest old artists ; but she lived 
 in a cosmopolitan temple, whose skyey frescos were fresh from 
 the han^s of Jehovah himself. The rapidity of her progress 
 astonished Mr. Clifton. He questioned hei* concerning the pro- 
 cesses she employed in some of her curious combinations, but 
 the fragmentary, abstracted nature of her conversation during 
 the hours of instruction gave him little satisfactory information. 
 His interest in her increased, until finally it became absorbing, 
 and he gave her all the time she could spare from home. The 
 eagerness with which she listened to his directions, the facility 
 with which she applied his rules, fully repaid him ; and from 
 day to day he postponed his return to the North, reluctant to 
 leave his indefatigable pupil. Now and then the time of 
 departure was fixed, but ere it arrived he wavered and pro- 
 crastinated. 
 
 Electra knew that his stay had been prolonged beyond his 
 original intention, and she dreaded the hour when she should 
 be deprived of his aid and advice. Though their acquaintance 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICP:. 71 
 
 had been so short, a strangely strong feeling had grown up in 
 her heart toward him ; a feeling of clinging tenderness, blended 
 with earnest and undying gratitude. She knew tliat lie under- 
 stood her character and appreciated her struggles, and it soothed 
 her fierce, proud heart, in some degree, to receive fioni him 
 those tokens of constant remembrance which she so yearned to 
 have from Russell. She felt, too, that she was not regarded 
 as a stranger by the artist ; she could see his sad eyes brighten 
 at her entrance, and detect the tremor in his hand and voice 
 when he spoke of going home. His health had improved, and 
 the heat of summer had come ; why did he linger ? Plis even- 
 ings were often spent at the cottage, and even Mrs. Aubrey 
 learned to smile at the sound of his step. 
 
 One morning as Electra finished her lesson and rose to go, 
 he said slowly, as if watching the effect of his words : 
 
 " This is the last hour I can give you. In two days I return 
 to New York. Letters of importance came this morning; I 
 have waited here too long already." 
 
 " Are you in earnest this time ?" 
 
 "I am; it is absolutely necessary that I should return 
 home." 
 
 " Mr. Clifton, what shall I do without you ?" 
 
 " Suppose you had never seen me ?" 
 
 " Then I should not have had to lose you. Oh, sir ! I need 
 you very much.'^ 
 
 " Electra, child, you will conquer your difficulties without 
 assistance from any one. You have nothinof to fear " 
 
 " Yes, I know I shall conquer at last, but the way would be 
 so much easier if you were only w^ith me. I shall miss you 
 more than I can tell you." 
 
 He passed his hand over his short shining hair, and mused 
 for a moment as if laying conflicting emotions in the balance. 
 She heard his deep, labored breathing, and saw the working of 
 tlie muscles in his pale face ; when he spoke, his voice was 
 husky : 
 
 " You are right : j^ou need me, and I want you always with 
 me; we must not be parted. Electra, I say we shall not. 
 
72 MACARIA ; OR, 
 
 Come to me, put your hands in mine — promise me that you 
 will be my child, my pupil ; I will taks you to my mother, and 
 we need never be separated. You require aid, such as can not 
 be had here ; in New York you shall have all that you want. 
 Will you come with me ?" 
 
 He held her hands in a vice-like grasp, and looked pleadingly 
 into her astonished countenance. A mist gathered before her, 
 and she closed her eves. 
 
 V 
 
 " Electra, will you come ?" 
 
 " Give me ten minutes to think," she answered shiveringly. 
 He turned away and walked up and down the floor, taking care 
 to conceal his face. She sat down before a table and dropped 
 her forehead in her palms. What slight things often shape 
 human destiny ; how little people realize the consequences of 
 seemingly trivial words, looks, or actions ! The day before 
 Electra would unhesitatingly have declined this proposition ; 
 but only that morning, as she passed Russell's door before 
 breakfast, she saw him w'ith Irene's farewell note in his hand ; 
 saw him press his lips hastily to the signature. Her jealous 
 heart was on fire ; the consciousness of his love for another 
 rendered her reckless and indescribably miserable. In this 
 mood she reflected ; Mr. Clifton seemed to have become warmly 
 attached to her, and could help her to attain the eminence she 
 bad in view; she was poor, why not accept his generous offer ? 
 Russell would not miss her — would not care whether she left 
 him or remained. If she were far away, at least she would not 
 be tormented by his coldness and indifference. The future 
 (barring her ambitious dreams) w^as dim, joyless ; she had to 
 earn a support, she scorned to be dependent on her cousin, fame 
 lured her on. Yes, she would go. Mr. Clifton took out his 
 watch and paused beside her : 
 
 " Ten minutes have passed ; Electra, will you come ?" 
 
 She raised her bloodless face, stamped with stern resolve, and 
 ere the words were pronounced he read his answer in the dcfiaitit 
 gleam of her eyes, in the hard, curved lines of the mouth. 
 
 " Mr. Clifton, I can not go with you just now, for at present 
 I can not, ought not, to leave my aunt. Helpless as she is, it 
 
ALTAKS OF SACRIFICE. 73 
 
 would be cruel, ungrateful, to desert her; but thinojs can not 
 continue this way much longer, and I promise you that as soon 
 as I can I will go to you. I want to be with you ; I want 
 somebody to care for me, and I know you will be a kind friend 
 to me always. Most gratefully will I accept your generous 
 offer so soon as I fe^l that I can do so." 
 
 He stooped and touched her forehead with his lips. 
 
 " My dear Electra, I will shield you from trials and diffi- 
 culties ; I will prize you above everything on earth ; I know 
 you are making a great sacrifice to be with me ; I know how 
 hard it is for you to leave home and relatives. But, my child, 
 your aunt has only a short time to live ; she is failing very fast, and 
 your duty to her will not keep you here long. You are right to 
 remain with her, but when she needs you no more I shall expect 
 yon to come to me in New York. Meantime, I shall write to 
 you frequently, and supply you with such books and materials 
 as you require. My pupil, I long to have you in my own home. 
 Remember, no matter what happens, you have promised youi'- 
 self to me." 
 
 " I shall not forget;" but he saw her shudder. 
 
 " Shall I speak to your aunt about this matter before I go ?" 
 
 " No, it would only distress her ; leave it all with me. It is 
 late and I must go. Good-by, sir." 
 
 He promised to see her agaiu before his departure, and she 
 walked home with her head bowed and a sharp continual pain 
 gnawing at her heart. 
 
 In the calm, peaceful years of ordinary childhood, the soul 
 matures slowly ; but a volcanic nature like Electra's, subjected 
 to galling trials, rapidly hardens, and answers every stroke with 
 the metalic ring of age. Keen susceptibility to joy or pain 
 taught her early that less impressive characters are years in 
 learning, and it was lamentably true that while yet a mere girl, 
 she suffered as acutely as a woman. The battle of life must ]>e 
 fouo-ht, and if one begins skirmishino- in the cradle, tactics are 
 soon learned, and the conflict ends more speedily. But Electra 
 had also conned another lesson : to lock her troubles in her own 
 heart, voicing no complaint, and when she sought her aunt, and 
 
 4 
 
74 MACAEIA ; OE, 
 
 read aloud the favorite chapters in the Bible, or led her up and 
 down the garden-walk, talking of various things, telling of the 
 growth of pet plants, there was no indication whatever of any- 
 unusual strife or extraordinary occurrence. Russell knew that 
 a change had come over his cousin, hut was too constantly 
 engaged, too entirely absorbed by his studies, to ask or analyze 
 the cause. She never watched at the gate for him now, never 
 sprang with outstretched arms to meet him, never hung over 
 the back of his chair and caressed his hands as formerly. 
 When not waiting upon her aunt, she was as intent upon 
 her books as he, and though invariably kind and unselfish iu 
 her conduct toward him, she was evidently constrained in 
 his presence. As the summer wo^-e on, Mrs. Aubrey's health 
 failed rapidly, and she was confined to her couch. There, 
 in a low chair close to the pillow, sat Electra reading, talking, 
 exertinor herself to the utmost to cheer the widow. She filled 
 the thin fingers with dewy roses, and expatiated on the glories 
 of the outer world^ while the thoughts of the invalid wandered 
 to the approaching shores of another realm, and she thanked 
 God that though thick folds of darkness shrouded the earth, the 
 veil dropped from her soul and the spiritual vision grew clear 
 and piercing. If faith and resignation could be taught like 
 music or arithmetic, then had Electra learned the grandest 
 truths of Christianity ; but it is a mournful fact that the bloody 
 seaLof Experience must stamp the lesson ere deep thinkers or 
 strong natures receive it, and as she watched that precious life 
 fade, like the purple light of summer in evening skies, the only 
 feeling she knew was that of grief for the impending loss — 
 undefined apprehension of coming isolation. If Mrs. Aubrey 
 could have seen the countenance which bent over her pillow, 
 her serene soul would have been painfully disturbed. She felt 
 hot tears on her hands and cheeks, and knew that the lips 
 which pressed hers often trembled ; but this seemed natural 
 enough under the circumstances, and she sank quietly down to 
 the edge of the tomb ignoraat of the sorrows that racked the 
 oirl's heart. One morning when Mr. Campbell, the pastor, 
 had spent some time in the sickroom praying with the sufferer, 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 75 
 
 and administering the sacrament of the Lord's supper, Electra 
 followed him to the door, leaving Russell with his mother. The 
 gentle pastor took her hand kindly, and looked at her vvith filling 
 eyes. 
 
 " Yon think my aunt is worse ?" 
 
 " Yes, my child. I think that very soon she will be with her 
 God. She will scarcely survive till night — " 
 
 She turned abruptly from him, and threw herself down across 
 the foot of the bed, buryi ^.g her face in her arms. Russell sat 
 with his mother's hands in his, while she turned her brown eyes 
 toward him, and exhorted him to commit himself and his future 
 to the hands of a merciful God. She told him how the promises 
 of the Saviour had supported and cheered her in times of great 
 need, and implored him to dedicate his energies, his talents, his 
 life, to the service of his Maker. Electra was not forsrotten : 
 she advised her to go to a cousin of her mother residing in Vir- 
 ginia. Long before she had written to this lady, informing her 
 of her own feebleness and of the girl's helpless condition ; and 
 a kind answer had been returned, cordially inviting the orphan 
 to share her home, to become an inmate of her house. Russell 
 could take her to these relatives as soon as possible. To all 
 this no reply was made, and. a few moments later, when Russell 
 kissed her tenderly and raised her pillow, she said faintly — 
 
 '* If I could look upon your face once more, ray son, it would 
 not be hard to die. Let me see you in heaven, my dear, dear 
 boy." These were the last words, and soon after a stupor fell 
 upon her. Hour after hour passed ; Mrs. Campbell came and 
 sat beside the bed, and the three remained silent, now and then 
 lifting bowed heads to look at the sleeper. Not a sound broke 
 the stillness save the occasional chirp of a cricket, and a shy 
 mouse crept twice across the floor, wondering at the silence, fix- 
 ing its twinkling bright eyes on the motionless figures. The au- 
 tumn day died slowly as the widow, and when the clock dirged 
 out the sunset hour Russell rose, and, putting back the window- 
 curtains, stooped and laid his face close to his mother's. Life is 
 at best a struggle, and such perfect repose as greeted him is 
 found only when the marble hands of Death transfer the soul to 
 
76 MACAKIA ; OR, 
 
 its guardian angel. No pulsation stirred the folds over the 
 heart, or the soft bands of hair on the blue-veined temples ; the 
 still mouth had breathed its last sigh, and the meek brown eyes 
 had opened in eternity. The long, fierce ordeal had ended, 
 the flames died out, and from smouldering ashes the purified 
 spirit that had toiled and fainted not, that had been faithful to 
 the end, patiently bearing many crosses, heard the voice of the 
 Great Shepherd, and soared joyfully to the pearly gates of the 
 Everlasting Home. The day bore her away on its wings, and 
 as Russell touched the icy cheek a despairing cry rolled through 
 the silent cottage — 
 
 " Oh, mother ! my own precious dead mother ! " 
 Falling on his knees, he laid his head on her pillow, and when 
 kind friendly hands bore her into the adjoining room, he knelt 
 there still, unconscious of what passed, knowing only that the 
 keenest of many blows had fallen, that the last and bitterest 
 vial of sorrows had been emptied. 
 
 Night folded her starry curtains around the earth ; darkness 
 settled on river and hill and valley. It was late September ; 
 autumn winds rose, eager for their work of death, and rushed 
 rudely through the forests, shaking the sturdy primeval mon- 
 archs in token of their mission and mastery ; and shivering 
 leaves rustled down before them, drifting into tiny grave-like 
 hillocks. Gradually the stars caught the contagious gloom, and 
 shrank behind the cloud -skirts sweeping the cold sky. It was 
 a solemn, melancholy night, full of dreary phantoms, presaging 
 a dark, dismal morrow. Amy Aubrey's still form reposed on 
 the draped table in the kitchen, and the fitful candle-light show- 
 ed only a dim, rigid outline of white hnen. Mr. Campbell and 
 his wife sat together in the next room, and the two young 
 mourners were left in the silence of the kitchen. Kussell sat at 
 the open window, near the table ; his head leaned on his hand, 
 tearless, mute, still as his mother. At the opposite window 
 stood Electra, pressing her face against the frame, looking out 
 into the moaning, struggling night, striving to read the mystic 
 characters dimly traced on the ash-gray hurrying clouds as the 
 reckless winds parted then* wan folds. The stony face of her 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 
 
 T7 
 
 merciless destiny seemed to frown down at lier, cold, grim, 
 Sphinx-like. Hitherto she had walked with loved ones ; now a 
 vast sepulchre yawned to receive them ; a tomb of clay for 
 the quiet sleeper, one of perhaps final separation for RusslH, 
 and over the last hideous chasm Hope hovered with drooping 
 wings. To leave him was like inurning her heart and all the 
 joy die had ever known ; and then, to crown her agony, a thous- 
 and Furies hissed " Irene will come back, and loving her he will 
 forget that you toil among strangers." 
 
 She crushed her fingers against each other and stifled a groan, 
 while the chilling voice of Destiny added : " trample out this 
 weakness, your path and his here separate widely ; you are noth- 
 hig to him, go to work earnestly, and cease repining." She 
 shrank away from the window, and approached her cousm. For 
 two hours he had not changed his position ; as far as she knew, 
 had not moved a muscle. She sat down at his feet and crossed 
 her arms over his knees ; he took no notice of her. 
 " Oh, Russell ! say something to me, or I shall die." 
 It was the last wail she ever suffered to escape her in his pre- 
 sence. He raised his head and put his hand on her forehead, 
 but the trembling lips refused their office, and as she looked up 
 at him tears rolled slowly down and fell on her cheek. She 
 would have given worlds to mingle her tears with his, but no 
 moisture came to her burning eyes ; and there these two, soon to 
 separate, passed the remaining hours of that long wretched night 
 of watching. The stormy day lifted her pale, mournful face at 
 last, and with it came the dreary patter and sobbing of autumn 
 rain, making it doubly harrowing to commit the precious form 
 to its long, last resting-place. Electra stood up beside her cou- 
 sin and folded her arms together. 
 
 " Russell, I am not going to that cousin in Virginia. I could 
 owe my bread and clothes to you, but not to her. She has 
 children, and I do not intend to live on her charity. I know 
 you, and I must part ; the sooner the better. I would not be 
 willing to burden you a day longer. I am going to fit myself 
 to work profitably. Mr. Clifton offered me a home in his house, 
 said his mother was lonely, and would be rejoiced to have me ; 
 
78 MACARIA ; OR, 
 
 that letter which I received last week contained one from her, 
 also urging me to come ; and, Russell, I am going to Xew 
 York to study with him as long as I need instruction. I did 
 not tell aunt of this, because I knew it would grieve her to think 
 that I would be thrown with strangers ; and having fully deter- 
 mined to take this step, thought it best not to distress her by 
 any allusion to it. You know it is my own affair, and I can de- 
 cide it better than any one else." 
 
 His eyes were fixed on the shrouded table, and he answered 
 without looking at her : 
 
 ** Xo, Electra, you must go to Mrs. Harden ; she seems anx- 
 ious to have you ; and as for being dependent upon charity, you 
 never shall be so long as I live. You will merely reside under 
 her roof, and shall not cost her a cent ; leave this with me." 
 
 " I cannot leave it with anybody ; I must depend upon my- 
 self. I have thought a great deal about it, and my resolution is 
 not to be shaken. You have been very kind to me, Russell, all 
 my life ; and only God knows how I love and thank you. But 
 I will not accept your hard earnings in future ; I should be mis- 
 eiable unless at work, and I tell you I must and will go to Mr. 
 Clifton." 
 
 He looked at her now, surprised and pained. 
 
 '* What is the matter with you, Electra ? Have I not sor- 
 rows enough, that you must try to add another by your obsti- 
 nacy ? What would she think of you ?" 
 
 He rose, and laid his hand on the pure, smooth brow of the 
 dead. 
 
 " There is nothing new the matter with me. I have determined 
 to go ; nobody has any right to control me, and it is worse than 
 useless for you to oppose me. We have but little time to spend 
 together, do not let us quarrel here in hzr presence. Let there 
 be peace between us in these last hours. Oh, Russell ! it is 
 hard enough to part, even in love and kindness ; do not add 
 painful contention,'' 
 
 " So you prefer utter strangers to your relatives and friends ?" 
 
 " Ties of blood are not the strongest ; strangers step in to aid 
 where relatives sometimes stand aloof, and watch a fatal strug- 
 
ALTARS OF lACKIFICE. 79 
 
 gle. Remomber Irene ; who is nearer to you, she or your grand- 
 father ? Such a friend Mr. Clifton is to me, and go to hiin I 
 will at all hazards. Drop the subject, if you please." 
 
 He looked at her an instant, then turned once more to his 
 mother's ftice, and his cousin left them together. 
 
 The day was so inclement that only Mr. and Mrs. Campbell 
 and Russell's employer attended the funeral. These few follow- 
 ed the gentle sleeper, and laid her down to rest till the star of 
 eternity dawns ; and the storm chanted a long, thrilling requiem 
 as the wet mound rose above the coffin. 
 
 Back to a desert home, whence the crown of joy had been 
 borne. What a hideous rack stands at the hearthstone whereon 
 merciless memory stretches the bereaved onee. In hours such as 
 this, we cry out fiercely : " The sun of our life has gone down in 
 starless, everlasting night ; earth has no more glory, no more 
 bloom or fragrance for us ; the voices of gleeful children, the ca- 
 rol of summer birds, take the mournful measure of a dirge. "We 
 hug this great grief to o«r hearts ; we hold our darling dead con- 
 tinually before us, and refuse to be glad again." We forget that 
 Prometheus has passed from the world. Time bears precious 
 healing on its broad pinions ; folds its arms compassionately 
 about us as a pitying father ; softly binds up the jagged wounds, 
 drugs memory, and though the poisonous sting is occasionally 
 thrust forth, slie soon relapses hito stupor. So m the infinite 
 mercy of our God, close at the heels of Azrael, follow the wing- 
 ed hours laden, like Sisters of Charity, with balm for the people. 
 The kind-hearted pastor and his wife urged the orphans to re- 
 move to their house for a few days at le.ast, until the future could 
 be mapped ; but they preferred to meet and battle at once with 
 the spectre which they knew stood waiting in the desolate cot- 
 tage. At midnight a heavy sleep fell on Russell, who had 
 thrown himself upon his mother's couch ; and, softly spreading 
 a shawl over him, Electra sat down by the dying fire on the 
 kitchen hearth, and looked her future in the face. A few da3's suf- 
 ficed to prepare for her journey ; and a gentleman from New 
 York, who had met her cousin in Mr. Campbell's office, consent- 
 ed to take charge of her, and commit her to Mr. Clifton's hands. 
 
80 MACAEIA : OR 
 
 The scanty furniture was sent to an auction-room, and a piece 
 of board nailed to the gate-post announced that the cottage 
 was for rent. Russell decided to take his meals at a board- 
 ing-house, and occupy a small room over the office, which Mr. 
 Campbell had placed at his disposal. On the same day, the cou- 
 sins bade adieu to the only spot they had called "home" for 
 many years, and as Russell locked the door and joined Electra, 
 his melancholy face expressed, far better than words could have 
 done, the pain it cost him to quit the house where his idolized 
 mother had lived, suffered, and died. Mr. Colton was waiting 
 for Electra at the hotel, whither the stage had been driven for 
 passengers ; and as she drew near and saw her trunk among 
 others piled on top, she stopped and grasped Russell's hand be- 
 tween both hers. A livid paleness settled on her face, while her 
 wild black eyes fastened on his features. She might never see 
 him again ; he was far dearer to her than her life ; how could 
 she bear to leave him, to put hundreds of miles between that face 
 and her own ? An icy hand clutched her heart as she gazed 
 into his deep, sad, beautiful eyes. His feeling for her was a 
 steady, serene affection, such as brothers have for dear young 
 sisters, and to give her up now filled him with genuine, earnest 
 sorrow. 
 
 " Electra, it is very hard to tell you good-by. You are all I 
 have left, and I shall be desolate indeed when you are away. 
 But the separation will not be long, I trust ; in a few years we 
 shall be able to have another home ; and where my home is, 
 yours must always be. Toil stretches before me like a sandy de- 
 sert, but I shall cross it safely ; and then, Electra, my dear cou- 
 sin, we shall be parted no more. I should feel far better satisfi- 
 ed if you were with Mrs. Harden, but you determine otherwise, 
 and, as you told me a few days ago, I have no right to control 
 you. Write to me often, and believe that I shall do all that a 
 brother could for you. Mr. Colton is waiting ; good-by, dar- 
 ling." 
 
 He bent down to kiss her, and the strained, tortured look 
 that greeted him he never forgot. She put her arms around his 
 neck, and clung to him like a shivering weed driven by rough 
 
ALTARS OF SACKIFICE. 81 
 
 winds ai^aiiist a stone wall. lie removed her elaspini^ arms, and 
 led her to Mr. Coltoii ; but as the latter offered to assist her into 
 the stage, she drew back, that Russell might perform that office. 
 While he almost lifted her to a seat, her fingers refused to re- 
 lease his, and he was forced to disengage them. Otlier passen- 
 gers entered, and the door was closed. Russell stood near the 
 window, and said gently, pitying her suffering : 
 
 " Electra, won't you say good-by ?" 
 
 She leaned out till her cheek touched his, and in a hoarse tone 
 uttered the fluttering words : 
 
 " Oh, Russell, Russell ! good-by ! May God have mercy on 
 me !" 
 
 And the stage rolled swiftly on ; men laughed, talked, and 
 smoked ; an October sun filled the sky with glory, and gilded 
 the trees on the road-side ; flame-colored leaves flashed in the 
 air as the wind tossed them before it ; the deep continual thunder 
 of the foaming falls rose soothingly from the river banks, and 
 a wretched human thing pressed her bloodless face against tlio 
 morocco lining of the coach, and stared down, mute and tearless, 
 into the wide grave of her all — 
 
 " Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail, 
 That brings our friends up from the under world ; 
 Sad as the last which reddens over one 
 That sinks with all we love below the verge. 
 So sad, 80 fresh, the days that are no more." 
 
 CHAPTER YII. 
 
 As tall tyrannous weeds and rank unshorn grass close over 
 and crush out slender, pure, odorous flowerets on a hill-side, so 
 tlie defects of Irene's character swiftly strengthened and devel- 
 oped in the new atmosphere in which she found herself. All 
 the fostering stimulus of a hot-bed seemed appKed to them, and 
 her nobler impulses were in imminent danger of being entirely 
 subdued. Diogenes Tenfelsdrockh's " Grim Tartary Enclosure 
 
82 macaeta; or 
 
 of a High Seminary" is but the prototype of hundreds, scat- 
 tered up and down through Christendom ; and the associations 
 which surrounded Irene were well calculated to destroy the 
 native purity and unselfishness of her nature. The school was 
 on an extensive scale, thoroughly fashionable, and thither pupils 
 were sent from every section of the United States. As re- 
 garded educational advantages, the institution was unexception- 
 able ; the professors were considered unsui*passed in their several 
 de{>artments, and every provision was made for thorough tuition. 
 But what a Babel reigned outside of the recitation room I One 
 hundred and forty girls to spend their recesses in envy, ridicule, 
 malice, and detraction. The homely squad banded in implacable 
 hatred against those whom nature had cast iu moulds of beauty; 
 the indolent and obtuse ever on the alert to decry the successful 
 efforts of their superiors ; the simply-clad children of parents in 
 straightened circumstances feeding their discontent by gazing 
 with undisguised envy at the richly-apparalled darlings of for- 
 tune ; and the favored ones sneering at these unfortunates, 
 pluming themselves on wealth, beauty, intellect, as the case 
 might be ; growing more arrogant and insufferable day by day. 
 A wretched climate this for a fresh, untainted soul ; and it is 
 surprising how really fond parents, anxious to promote the im- 
 provement of their daughters in every respect hasten to place 
 them where poisonous vapors wreathe and curl about them. The 
 principals of such institutions are doubtless often conscientious, 
 and strive to discharge their duty faithfully ; but the evils of 
 human nature are obstinate, difficult to subdue under even the 
 most favorable circumstances : and where such a mass of un- 
 trained souls are turned into an enclosure, to amuse themselves 
 at one another's expense, mischief is sure to follow. Anxious to 
 shake off the loneliness which so heavily oppressed her, Irene at 
 first mingled freely among her companions ; but she soon became 
 disgusted with the conduct and opinions of the majority, and en- 
 deavored to find quiet in her own room, Maria Ashley, who 
 shared the apartment, was the spoiled child of a Louisiana plan- 
 ter, and her views of life and duty were too utterly antagonistic 
 to Irene's to allow of any pleasure in each other's society. To 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 83 
 
 cheat the professors by ingenious strataGrems, and out-dress her 
 coii)]ianions seemed tlie sum total of the girl's aspirations ; and 
 gradually, in lieu of the indifference she evinced toward her room- 
 mate, a positive hatred made itself apparent in numberless 
 trifles. Feeling her' own superiority, Irene held herself more 
 and more aloof; her self-complacency grew amazingly, the grace- 
 ful figure took a haughty, unbending posture, aud a coldly con- 
 temptuous smile throned itself on her lip. The inevitable con- 
 sequence was, that she became a target for the school. Tiiu.^ 
 the months crept away, her father wrote rarely, and Miss Mar- 
 garet's letters contained no allusion to the family that had 
 caused her banishment. Finally she wrote to Dr. Arnold, in- 
 quiring concerning Miss Aubrey, but no reply reached her. 
 Early in winter a new pupil, a " day scholar," joined her class ; 
 she resided in New York, and very soon a strong friendship 
 sprung up between them. Louisa Young was about Irene's 
 age, very pretty, very gentle, and winning in her manners. She 
 was the daughter of an affluent merchant, aud was blessed in 
 the possession of parents who strove to rear their children as 
 Christian parents should. Louisa's attachment was very warm 
 and lasting, aud ere long she insisted that her friend should visit 
 her. Weary of the school, the latter gladly availed herself of 
 the invitation, and one Friday afternoon she accompanied 
 Louisa home. The mansion was almost palatial, and as Irene 
 entered the splendidly-furnished parlors her own Southern home 
 rose vividly before her. 
 
 " Mother, this is Miss Huntingdon." 
 
 Mrs. Young received her cordially, and as she held the gloved 
 hand, and kindly expressed her pleasure at meeting her 
 daughter's friend, the girl's heart gave a quick bound of joy. 
 
 " Come up stairs and put away your bonnet." 
 
 In Louisa's beautiful room the two sat talking of various 
 things till the tea-bell rang. Mr. Young's greeting was scarcely 
 less friendly than his wife's, and as they seated themselves at the 
 table, the stranger felt at home for the first time in New York. 
 
 " Where is brother ?" asked Louisa, glancing at the vacant 
 seat opposite her own. 
 
84 MACARIA ; OK, 
 
 " He has not come home yet ; I wonder what keeps him ? 
 There he is now, in the hall," answered the mother. 
 
 A moment after, he entered and took his seat. He was tall, 
 rather handsome, and looked about thirty. His sister pre- 
 sented her friend, and with a hasty bow he fastened his eyes on 
 her face. Probably he was unconscious of the steadiness of his 
 gaze, but Irene became restless under his fixed, earnest eye, and 
 perceiving her embarrassment, Mrs, Young said — 
 
 '' Harvey, where have you been ? Dr. Melville called here 
 for you at foui' o'clock ; said you had made some engagement 
 with him," 
 
 " Yes, mother ; we have been visiting together this after- 
 noon," 
 
 Withdrawing his eyes, he seemed to fall into a reverie, and 
 took no part in the conversation that ensued. As the party ad- 
 journed to the sitting-room, he paused on the rug, and leaned 
 his elbow on the mantle, Louisa lingered and drew near. He 
 passed his arm around her shoulders, and looked ajffectionately 
 down at her. 
 
 " Well, what is it ?" 
 
 " Come into the sitting-room and help me to entertain Irene, 
 instead of going off to your stupid study ; do, Harvey," 
 
 " A very reasonable request, truly ! I must quit my work to 
 talk to one of your schoolmates ; nonsense ! How old is she ?'' 
 
 " Fifteen. Is not she a beauty ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Oh, Harvey I you are so cold I I thought you would ad- 
 mire Irene prodigiously ; and now you say ' yes' just exactly as 
 if I had asked you whether it was snowing out of doors." 
 
 " Which is certainly the fact ; the first flakes fell as I reach- 
 ed home." 
 
 He stepped to tlie window and looked out, saying carelessly — 
 
 " Go to your friend, and when you are at a loss for conversa- 
 tion, bring her to my study to see those sketches of Palmyra 
 and Baalbec." 
 
 He passed on to his work, and she to the sitting-room. The 
 Btudy was simply the Ubrary, handsomely fitted up with choice 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 85 
 
 old books in rielily-carved rosewood cases, and antiqtje ))usts 
 peering down from the tops of eacii. Crimson damask curtains 
 swept from the ccihng to the carpet, and a hixurious arm-chair 
 sat before the glowing coal fire. Tlio table was covered with 
 books, and loose sheets of paper were scattered around, as if the 
 occupant had been suddenly called from his labor. The gas 
 l)nrned brightly ; all things beckoned back to work. He sat 
 down, glanced over the half-written sheets, numbered the pages, 
 laid them away in the drawer, and opened a volume of St. Chry- 
 sostom. As the light fell on his countenance, it was very appa- 
 rent that he had been a student for years ; that his mind was 
 habituated to patient, laborious investigation. Gravity, utterly 
 free from sorrow^ or sternness, marked his face ; he might have 
 passed all his days in that quiet room, for any impress which the 
 cares or joys of out-door life had left on his features ; a strong, 
 clear intellect, a lofty, earnest soul ; a calm, unruffled heart, that 
 knew not half its own unsounded abysses. He read industrious- 
 ly for some time, occasionally pausing to annotate ; and once or 
 twice he raised his head and listened, fancying footsteps in the 
 hall. Finally he pushed the book away, took a turn across the 
 floor, and resumed his seat. He could not rivet his attention on 
 St. Chrysostom, and folding his arms over his chest, he studied 
 the red coals instead. Soon after, unmistakable steps fell on his 
 ear, and a light tap at the door was followed by the entrance of 
 the two girls. Irene came very reluctantly, fearful of intruding ; 
 but he rose, and placed a chair for her close to his own, assuring 
 her that he was glad to see her there. Louisa found the port- 
 folio, and, bringing i^ to the table, began to exhibit its treasures. 
 The two leaned over it, and as Irene sat resting her cheek on 
 her hand, the beauty of her face and figure was clearly revealed. 
 Harvey remained silent, watching the changing expression of the 
 visitor's countenance ; and once he put out his hand to touch 
 the hair floating over the back and arms of her chair. Gradu- 
 ally his still heart stirred, his brow flushed, and a new light burn- 
 ed in the deep clear eyes. 
 
 " Louisa, where did you get these ?" 
 
 " Brother brought them home when he came from the East," 
 
86 MAC ART A : OE 
 
 Irene lifted her eyes to bis and said : 
 
 '' Did you visit all these places ? Did you go to that crumb- 
 ling Temple of the Sun ?" 
 
 He told her of his visit to the old world, of its mournful ruins, 
 its decaying glories ; of the lessons he learned tliere ; the sad, 
 but precious memories he broiiglit back, and as he talked time 
 passed unheeded — she forgot her embarrassment, they were 
 strangers no longer. The clock struck ten ; Louisa rose at once. 
 
 " Thank you, Harvey, for giving us so much of your time. 
 Father and mother will be waiting for you." 
 
 " Yes, I will join you at once." 
 • She led the way back to the sitting-room, and a few moments 
 afterward, to Irene's great surprise, the student came in, and sit- 
 ting down before the table, opened tlie Bible and read a chapter. 
 Then all knelt and he prayed. Tiiere was a strange spell on the 
 visitor ; in all this there was something so unexpected. It was 
 the first time she had ever knelt around the family altar, and, as 
 she rose, that sitting-room seemed suddenly converted into a tem- 
 ple of worship. Mutual "good-nights" were exchanged, and as 
 Irene turned toward the young minister, he held out his hand. 
 She gave him hers, and he pressed it gently, saying : 
 
 '' I trust this is the first of many pleasant evenings which we 
 shall spend together." 
 
 " Thank you, sir. I hope so too, for I have not been so hap- 
 py since I left home." 
 
 He smiled, and she walked on. His mother looked up as the 
 door closed behind her, and exclaimed : 
 
 " What a wonderfully beautiful face she has ! Louisa often 
 rhapsodized about her, and now I am not at all surprised at her 
 enthusiasm." 
 
 " Yes, such perfection of features as hers is seen but once in a 
 lifetime. I have traveled over the greater part of the world ; I 
 have looked upon all types of beauty, from the Andalusia ns, 
 whom Murillo immortalized, to the far-famed Circassians of Ka- 
 barda, but never before have I found such a marvel of loveliness 
 as that girl. In Venice I spent a morning studying one of Ti- 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 87 
 
 tian's faces, which somewhat resembles hers ; tli ere is an approxi- 
 mation to tlie same golden hair — t'orminj^ a nimbus, as it were — 
 the same contour of features, but Titian's picture laciied her pure, 
 unsearchable, indescribable eyes. Have you noticed what a rare, 
 anomalous color her hair is ? There never was but one other 
 head like it ; the threads of fine gold in that celcljraled lock of 
 her own hair, which Lucretia Borgia gave Cardinal Bembo, 
 match Irene Huntingdon's exactly. Well and truly has it been 
 said of that glittering relic in the Ambrozian library, ' If ever 
 hair was golden, it is this of Lucretia Borgia's ; it is not red, it 
 is not yellow, it is not auburn ; it is golden, and nothing else.'. 
 I examined it curiously, and wondered whether the world could 
 furnish a parallel ; consequently, when that girl's head flashed 
 before me, I was startled. Stranger still than her beauty is the 
 fact that it has not spoiled her thus far." 
 
 He folded his arms over his chest as if crushing out something. 
 
 His mother laughed. 
 
 " Why, Harvey ! What a riddle you are I Take care, my 
 sou ; that child would never do for a minister's wife." 
 
 " Of course not ; who ever dreamed that she would ? Good- 
 night, mother ; I shall not be at home to breakfast ; do not wait 
 for me, I am going to Long Island with Dr. Melville. He 
 bent down to receive her customary kiss, and went to his own 
 room. 
 
 " Louisa, how came your brother to be a minister ?" asked 
 Irene, when they had reached their apartment. 
 
 " When he was a boy he said he intended to preach, and 
 father never dissuaded him. I was quite young when he went to 
 the East, and since his return he has been so engrossed by his 
 theological studies that we are rarely together. Harvey is a 
 singular man — so silent, so equable, so cold in his manner, and 
 yet he has a warm heart. He has declined two calls since his 
 ordination ; Dr. Melville's health is very poor, and Harvey fre- 
 quently fills his pulpit. Sometimes he talks of going West, where 
 ministers are scarce ; thinks he could do more good there, but 
 mother will not consent for him to leave us. I am afraid, 
 
88 MACARIA ; OR, 
 
 though, he will go — he is so determined when he once makes up 
 his mind. He is a dear, good brother ; I know you will Uke 
 him when you know him well ; everybody loves Harvey." 
 
 The inclemency of the weather confined the girls to the house 
 the following day. Harvey was absent at breakfast, and at din- 
 ner the chair opposite Irene's was still vacant. The afternoon 
 wore away, and at dusk Louisa opened the piano and began to 
 play Thalberg's " Home, Sweet Home." Irene sat on a sofa 
 near the window, and as she listened, visions of the South rose 
 before her, till she realized — 
 
 " That a sorrow's crown of sorrow is remembering happier things.'' 
 
 She longed inexpressibly for her own home, for her father, for 
 the suffering friends of the cottage, and, as she thought of his 
 many trials, Russell's image was more distinct than all. She 
 closed her eyes, and felt again his tight clasp of her hands ; his 
 passionate, pleading words sounded once more : " Oh, Irene I 
 believe in me ! believe in me always !" It seemed to her so un- 
 natural, so cruel that they should be separated. Then came the 
 memory of Mrs. Aubrey's words of counsel : " Pray constantly; 
 keep yourself unspotted from the world." What would the 
 blind woman think if she knew all the proud, scornful, harsh feel- 
 ings which were now in her heart ? A sensation of deep contri- 
 tion and humiliation came upon her ; she knew she was fast 
 losing the best impulses of her nature, and experienced keen 
 regret that she had yielded to the evil associations and tempta- 
 tions of the school. How could she hope to grow better under 
 such circumstances ? What would become of her ? The snow 
 drifted against the panes, making fairy fretwork, and through 
 the feathery flakes the gaslight at the corner burned steadily on. 
 " So ought the light of conscience to burn," thought she ; " so 
 ought I to do my duty, no matter how I am situated. That 
 light is all the more necessary because it is stormy and dark." 
 
 Somebody took a seat near her, and though the room was dim 
 she knew the tall form and the touch of his hand. 
 
 " Good-evening, Miss Irene ; we have had a gloomy day. How 
 have you and Louisa spent it ?" 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 89 
 
 " Xot very profitably I daresay, though it has not appeared 
 at all gloomy to me. Have you been out in the snow ?" 
 
 " Yes, my work has been sad. I buried a mother and child 
 this afternoon, and have just come from a house of orphanage 
 and grief. It is a difficult matter to realize how many aching 
 hearts there are in this great city. Our mahogany doors shut 
 out the wail that hourly goes up to God from the thousand suf- 
 ferers in our midst." 
 
 Just then a servant lighted the chandelier, and she saw that 
 he looked graver than ever. Louisa came up and put her arm 
 around his neck, but he did not return the caress ; said a few 
 kind words, and rising, slowly paced the floor. As his eye fell 
 on the piano he paused, saying, " Come, Louisa, sing that song 
 for me." 
 
 She sat down, and began " Comfort ye my people :" and 
 gradually the sadness melted from his features. As Irene listened 
 to the solemn strains she found it difficult to control her feelings, 
 and by degrees her head sank until it touched the arm of the 
 sofa. The minister watched the effect of the music, and, resum- 
 ing his seat, said gently — 
 
 " It is genuine philosophy to extract comfort and aid from 
 every possible source. There is a vast amount of strength 
 needed to combat the evils and trials which necessarily occur in 
 even the sunniest, happiest lives ; and I find that sometimes I 
 derive far more from a song than a lengthy sermon. We are 
 curious bits of mechanism, and frequently music effects what 
 learned disputation or earnest exhortation could not accomplish. 
 I remember once, when I was a child, I had given my mother a 
 great deal of trouble by my obstinacy. She had entreated me, 
 reasoned with me, and finally punished me, but all to no purpose ; 
 my wickedness had not been conquered. I was bitter and rebel- 
 lious, and continued so all day. That evening she sat down to 
 the piano and sang a hymn for my father. The instant the 
 strains fell on my ear I felt softened, crept down stairs to the 
 parlor-door, and before she had finished was crying heartily, beg- 
 ging her forgiveness. When a sublime air is made the vehicle 
 of a noble sentiment there is no computing the amount of good 
 
90 MACARIA ; OR, 
 
 it accomplishes, if properly directed. During my visit to Lon- 
 don, I went to hear a very celebrated divine. I had just lost a 
 dear friend, the companion who traveled with me to Jerusalem 
 and Meroe, and I went to church full of sorrow. The sermon 
 was able, but had no more effect in comforting me than if I had 
 not listened to it. He preached from that text of Job treating 
 of the resurrection, and at the conclusion the very words of his 
 text, ' I know that my Redeemer liveth,' were sung by the choir. 
 When the organ rolled its solemn tones under the dim arched 
 roof, and I heard the voices of the choir swelling deep and full — 
 
 ' Throb through the ribbed stone,' 
 
 then, and not till then, I appreciated the grand words to which 
 I had listened. The organ spoke to my soul as man could not, 
 and I left the church calm and comforted. All things are capa- 
 ble of yielding benefit, if properly applied, though it is a lament- 
 able truth that gross abuse has involved many possible sources 
 of good in disrepute ; and it is our duty to extract elevating in- 
 fluences from all departments. Such an alchemy is especially 
 the privilege of a Christian," 
 
 As he talked she lifted her beautiful eyes and looked steadily 
 at him, and he thought that, of all the lovely things he had ever 
 seen, that face was the most peerless. She drew closer to him, 
 and said earnestly : 
 
 "Then you ought to be happy, Mr. Young." 
 
 " That implies a doubt that 1 am." 
 
 " You do not seem to me a very happy man." 
 
 " There you mistake me. I presume there are few happier 
 persons." 
 
 " Countenance is not a faithful index, then ; you look so ex- 
 ceedingly grave." 
 
 " Do you suppose that gravity of face is incompatible with 
 sunshine in the heart ?" 
 
 " I think it reasonable that the sunshine should sparkle in the 
 eyes and gleam over the features. But, sir, I should like, 
 if you please, to talk to you a little about other things. 
 May I ?" 
 
ALTARS OF 6ACKIFICE. 91 
 
 " Certainly ; speak on, and speak freely ; you may trnst me, 
 I think." 
 
 He smiled encouragingly as he spoke, and without a moment's 
 tliouglit she laid her delicate hand in his. 
 
 " Mr. Young, I want somebody to advise me. Yery often I 
 am at a loss about my duty, and, having no one to consult, either 
 do nothing at all or that which I should not. If it will not 
 trouble you too much, I should like to bring my difficulties to 
 you sometimes, and get you to direct me. If you will only talk 
 frankly to me, as you do to Louisa, oh I I will be very 
 grateful." 
 
 He folded his hands softly over the- white, fluttering fingers. 
 
 " Louisa is my sister, and therefore I do not hesitate to tell 
 her unwelcome truths. But you happen to be a perfect stran- 
 ger, and might not relish my counsel." 
 
 '' Try me)' 
 
 " How old are you ? Pardon my inquisitiveness.'* 
 
 " Fifteen." 
 
 " An age when young ladies prefer flattery to truth. Have 
 you no brother ?" 
 
 " I am an only child." 
 
 " You would like a brother, however ?" 
 
 "Yes, sir, above all things." 
 
 " Take care ; you express yourself strongly. If you can fancy 
 me for a brother, consider me such. One thing I can promise, 
 you will have a guardian sleepless as Ladon, and untiring in his 
 efforts to aid you as if he were in truth a Briareus. If you are 
 uot afraid of espionage, make me your brother. What say you ?" 
 
 *' I am not afraid, sir ; I believe I need watching." 
 
 " Ah, that you do !" he exclaimed with unusual emphasis. 
 
 " He can be very stern, Irene, gentle as he looks," suggested 
 Louisa. 
 
 " If he never found fault with me I should not need his friend- 
 ship." 
 
 When Monday morning came, and she was abliged to return 
 to school, Irene reluctantly bade farewell to the new friends. 
 She knew that, in conformity to the unalterable regulations of 
 
92 MACAEIA ; OR, 
 
 Ci'im Tartary, she conld only leave the institution once a month, 
 and the prospect of this long interval between her visits wsls by 
 no means cheering. Harvey assisted her into the carriage. 
 
 " I shall send you some books in a day or two, and if you are 
 troubled about anything before I see you again, write me a note 
 by Louisa. I would call to see you occasionally if you were 
 boarding anywhere else. Good-morning, Miss Irene ; do not 
 forget that I am your brother so long as you stay in New York, 
 or need one." 
 
 The books were not forgotten ; they arrived the ensuing 
 week, and his selection satisfied her that he perfectly understood 
 what kind of aid she required. Her visit made a lasting impres- 
 sion on her mind, and the Sabbath spent in Louisa's home often 
 recurred to her in after years, as the memory of some green, 
 sunny isle of rest haunts the dreams of weary, tempest-lashed ma- 
 riners in a roaring sea. Maria Ashley was a sore trial of pa- 
 tience, and occasionally, after a fruitless struggle to rise above 
 the temptations presented almost hourly, Irene looked longingly 
 toward Louisa's fireside as one turns to the last source of sup- 
 port. Finally she took refuge in silence, and, except when com- 
 pelled to do so, rarely commented upon anything that occurred. 
 The days were always busy, and when the text-books were fin- 
 ished, she had recourse to those supplied by her new friends. At 
 the close of the next month, instead of accompanying Louisa 
 home, Irene was suffering with severe cold, and too much indis- 
 posed to quit the house. This was a grievous disappointment, 
 but she bore it bravely, and went on with her studies. What a 
 dreary isolation in the midst of numbers of her own age. It was 
 a thraldom that galled her ; and more than once she implored 
 her father's permission to return home. His replies were positive 
 denials, and after a time she ceased to expect release, until the 
 prescribed course should be ended. Thus another month dragged 
 itself away. On Friday morning Louisa was absent. Irene felt 
 anxious and distressed ; perhaps she was ill, something must 
 have happened. As the day-pupils were dismissed she started 
 back to her own room, heart-sick because of this second disap- 
 pointment. "After all," thought she, " I may as well accustom 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 93 
 
 iiiy.sclf to bcM'no^ alone. Of course, I can't have tlie Yoiings al- 
 ways. I must learn to depend on myself." She put away the 
 bonnet and cloak laid out in readiness for departure, and sat 
 down to write to her aunt Margaret. A few minutes after, a 
 servant knocked at the door and informed her that a gentleman 
 wished to see her in the parlor. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 " I AM so glad to see you, Mr. Young. Louisa is not sick, 
 I hope ?" 
 
 " I came for you in Louisa's place ; she is not well enough 
 to quit her room. Did you suppose that I intended leaving you 
 here for another month /"' 
 
 " I was rather afraid you had forgotten me ; the prospect 
 was gloomy ten minutes ago. It seems a long time since I was 
 with you," 
 
 She stood close to him, looking gladly into his face, uncon- 
 scious of the effect of her words. 
 
 " You sent me no note all this time ; why not ?" 
 
 " I was afraid of troubling you ; and, besides, I would rather 
 tell you what I want you to know." 
 
 " Miss Irene, the carriage is at the door. I am a patient 
 man, and can wait half an hour if you have any preparation to 
 make." 
 
 In much less time she joined him, equipped for the ride, and 
 took her place beside him in the carnage. As they reached his 
 father's door, and he assisted her out, she saw him look at her 
 very searchingly. 
 
 " It is time that you had a little fresh air. You are not 
 quite yourself Louisa is m her room; run up to her." 
 
 She found her friend suffering with sore throat, and was 
 startled at the appearance of her flushed cheeks. Mrs. Young 
 sat beside her, and after most cordial greetings the latter 
 
9i MACARIA ; OE, 
 
 resigned her seat and left thera, enjoining upon her daughter 
 the necessity of remaining quiet. 
 
 *' Mother was almost afraid for you to come, but I teazed and 
 coaxed for permission ; told her that even if I had the scarlet 
 fever you had already had it, and would run no risk. Harvey 
 says it is not scarlet fever at all, and he persuaded mother to 
 let him go after you. He always has things his own way, 
 though he brings it about so quietly that nobody would ever 
 suspect him of being self-willed. Harvey is a good friend of 
 your's, Irene." 
 
 " I am very glad to hear it ; he is certainly very kind to me. 
 But recollect you are not to talk much, let me talk to you." 
 
 Mrs. Young sent up tea for both, and about nine o'clock, Mr. 
 Young and his son both entered. Ljuisa had fallen asleep 
 holding Irene's hand, and her father cautiously felt the pulse 
 and examined the countenance. The fever had abated, and 
 bending down, Harvey said softly : 
 
 " Can't you release your hand without waking her ?" 
 
 " I am afraid not ; have prayer without me to-night." 
 
 After the gentlemen withdrew, Mrs. Young and Irene watch- 
 ed the sleeper till midnight, when she awoke. The following 
 morning found her much better, and Irene and the mother 
 spent the day in her room. Late in the afternoon the minister 
 came in and talked to his sister for some moments, then turned 
 to his mother. 
 
 " Mother, I am going to take this visitor of yours down to 
 the library; Louisa has monopolized her long enough. Come, 
 Miss Irene, you shall join them again at tea." 
 
 He led the way, and she followed very willingly. Placing 
 her in a chair before the fire, he drew another to the rug ; and 
 seating himself, said just as if speaking to Louisa : 
 
 " What have you been doing these two months ? "What is it 
 that clouds your face, my little sister ?" 
 
 "Ah, eir ! I am so weary of that school. You don't know 
 what a relief it is to come here." 
 
 " It is rather natural that you should feel homesick. It is a 
 fierce ordeal for a child like you to be thrust so far from home." 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 95 
 
 ** I am not homesick now, I believe. I have in some degree 
 become accustomed to the separation from my father ; but I 
 am growing so different from what I used to be ; so different 
 from what' I expected. It grieves me to know that I am 
 changing for the worse ; but, somehow, I can't help it. I make 
 good resolutions in the morning before I leave my room, and 
 by noon I manage to break all of them. The girls try me and 
 1 lose my patience. When I am at home nothing of this kind 
 ever troubles me. I know you think me very weak, and I dare 
 say I am ; still I try much harder than you think I do." 
 
 " If you never yielded to temptation you would be more than 
 mortal. We are all prone to err ; and. Miss Irene, did it never 
 occur to you, that, though you may be overcome by the evil 
 prompting, yet the struggle to resist btrengthened you ? So 
 long as life lasts this conflict will be waged ; though you have 
 not always succeeded thus far, earnest prayer and faithful re- 
 solve will enable you to conquer. Look to a merciful and 
 watchful God for assistance ; ' divine knowledge took the mea- 
 sure of every human necessity, and divine love and power gath- 
 ered into salvation a more than adequate provision.' Louisa 
 has t'^ld me the nature of the trials that beset you, and that 
 you still strive to rise superior to them ought to encourage you. 
 The books which I sent were calculated to aid you in your 
 efforts to be gentle, forgiving, and charitable under adverse 
 circumstances. I use the word charity in its broad, deep, true 
 significance. Of all charities mere money-giving is the least ; 
 sympathy, kind words, gentle judgments, a friendly pressure of 
 weary hands, an encouraging smile, will frequently outweigh a 
 mint of coins. Bear this in mind, selfishness is the real root 
 of all the evil in the world ; people are too isolated, too much 
 wrapped up in their individual rights, interests, or enjoyments. 
 I, Me, Mine, is the God of the age. There are many noble 
 exceptions ; philanthropic associations abound in our cities, and 
 individual instances of generous self-denial now and then flash 
 out upon us. But we ought to live more for others than we 
 do. Instead of the narrow limits which restrict so many, the 
 
96 MACAEIA ; OR, 
 
 whole family of the human race should possess our cordial sym- 
 pathy. In proportion as we interest ourselves in promoting the 
 good and happiness of others our natures become elevated, en- 
 larged ; our capacities for enjoyment are developed and increas- 
 ed. The happiest man I ever knew was a missionary in Syria. 
 He had abandoned home, friends, and country; but, in labor- 
 ing for the weal of strangers, enjoyed a peace, a serenity, a 
 deep gladness, such as not the wealth of the Rothchildrf could 
 purchase. Do not misapprehend me. All cannot be missiona- 
 ries in the ordinary acceptation of that term. I believe that 
 very few are really called to spend their lives under inclement 
 skies, in dreary by-corners of the earth, amid hostile tribes. 
 But true missionary work lies at every man's door, at every 
 woman's; and, my little sister, yours waits for you, staring at 
 you daily. ^Do the work that lies nearest to thee^ Let me 
 give you the rule of a profound thinker, who might have 
 accomplished incalculable good had he walked the narrow, 
 winding path which he stood afar off and pointed out to others ; 
 * know that thou canst work at, and work at it like a Hercu- 
 lus;' and amid the holy hills of Jerusalem, the voice of Inspi- 
 ration exclaimed ; ' Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it 
 with thy might.' " 
 
 His low voice fell soothingly on her ear ; new energy kindled, 
 new strength was infused, as she listened, and she said hastily : 
 
 "It would be an easy matter to do all this, if I had somebody 
 like you always near to direct me." 
 
 " Then there would be no glory in conquering. Every soul 
 has trials which must be borne without any assistance, save that 
 which the Father mercifully bestows. Remember the sublime 
 words of Isaiah : ' I have trodden the wine-press alone ; and of 
 the people there was none with me. And I looked, and there 
 was none to help, and I wondered that there was none to uj> 
 hold ; therefore mine own arm brought salvation unto me.' 
 Miss Irene, yoia, too, must ' tread the ivinc-press alone J " 
 • She held her breath and looked up at him ; the solemn em- 
 phasis of his words startled her ; they fell upon her weighty as 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 97 
 
 prophecy, adumbrating weary years of ceaseless struggling. The 
 firelight glowed on her sculptured features, and he saw an ex- 
 pression of vague dread in her glance. 
 
 " Miss Irene, yours is not a clinging, dependent disposition ; 
 if I have rightly understood your character, you have never been 
 accustomed to lean ui)on others. After relying on yourself so 
 long, why yield to mistrust now ? With years should grow the 
 power, the determination, to do the work you find laid out for 
 you." 
 
 " It is precisely because I know how very poorly I have man- 
 aged myself thus far that I have no confidence in my own pow- 
 ers for future emergencies. Either I have lived alone too long, 
 or else not long enough ; I rather think the last. If they had 
 only suffered me to act as I wished, I should have been so much 
 better at home. Oh, sir ! I am not the girl I was eight months 
 ago. I knew how it would be when they sent me here." 
 
 Resting her chin in her hands, she gazed sadly into the grate, 
 and saw, amid glowing coals, the walls of the vine-clad cottage, 
 tlie gentle face of the blind woman groping her way, the melan- 
 choly eyes of one inexpressibly dear to her. 
 
 •' We can not always live secluded, and at some period of your 
 life vou would have been forced to enter the world and combat 
 its troubles, even had you never seen New York. It is compar- 
 atively easy for anchorites to preserve a passionless, equable tem- 
 perament ; but to ignore the very circumstances and relations of 
 locial existence in which God intended that we should be puiified 
 And ennobled by trial is both sinful and cowardly." 
 
 Taking a small volume from the table, he read impressively : 
 
 " What are we set on earth for ? Say to toil ; 
 Nor seek to leave thy tending of the vines, 
 For all the heat o' the day, till it declines, 
 And death's mild curfew shall from work assoiL 
 God did anoint thee with His odorous oil, 
 
 To wrestle, not to reign so others shall 
 
 Take patience, labor, to their heart and hand, 
 From thy hand, and thy heart, and thy brave cheer, 
 And God's grace fructify through thee to all." 
 
 6 
 
98 MACAETA ; OK, 
 
 •' Some portentous cloud seems lowering over your future. 
 What is it ? You ought to be a gleeful girl, full of happy 
 hopes.'* 
 
 She sank farther back in her chair to escape his searching gaze, 
 and drooped her face lower. 
 
 " Yes, yes ; I know I ought, but one can't always shut their 
 eyes." 
 
 " Shut their eyes to what ?^ 
 
 " Various coming troubles, Mr. Young." 
 
 His lip curled slightly, and, replacing the book on the table, 
 he said, as if speaking rather to himself than to her : 
 
 " The heart knowcth his own bitterness, and a stranger doth 
 not intermeddle with his joy." 
 
 " You are not a stranger, sir." 
 
 "I see you are disposed to consider me such. I thought I 
 was your brother. But no matter ; after a time all will be 
 well." 
 
 She looked puzzled ; and, as the tea-bell summoned them, he 
 merely added : 
 
 "I do .not wonder. You are a shy child ; but you will soou 
 learn to understand me ; you will come to me with all your sor- 
 rows." 
 
 During the remainder of this visit she saw him "no more. 
 Louisa recovered rapidly, and when she asked for her brother on 
 Sabbath evening, Mrs. Young said he was to preach twice that 
 day. Monday morning arrived, and Irene returned to school 
 with a heavy heart, fearing that she had wounded him ; but a 
 few days after, Louisa brought her a book and brief note of kind 
 words. About this time she noticed in her letters from home, 
 allusions to her own future lot, which increased her uneasiness. 
 It was very palpable that her father expected her to accede to 
 his wishes regarding a union with her cousin ; and she knew only 
 too well how fierce was the contest before her. Husrh wrote 
 kindly, affectionately ; and if she could have divested her mind 
 of this apprehension, his letters would have comforted her. Thus 
 situated she turned to her books with redoubled zest, and her 
 naturally fine intellect was taxed to the utmost. Her well-earn- 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 99 
 
 ed pre-eminence in her classes increased the jcalonsv, the dislike, 
 and censoriousncss of her less studious companions. Months 
 passed ; and though she preserved acahn, impenetrable exterior, 
 taking no heed of sneers and constant persecution, yet the worm 
 gnawed its slow way, and the })lague-spot spread in that wiiilom 
 pure spirit. One Saturday morning she sat quite alone in her 
 small room ; the week had been specially painful, and, wearied 
 in soul, the girl laid her head down on her folded arms, and 
 thought of her home in the far South. The spicy fragrance of 
 orange and magnolia came to her, and Erebus and Paragon 
 haunted her recollection. Oh ! for one ride through the old 
 pine-woods. Oh ! for one look at the water-lilies bending over 
 the creek. Only one wretched year had passed, how could she 
 endure those which were to come ! A loud rap startled her from 
 this painful reverie, and ere she could utter the stereotyped 
 " come in," Louisa sprang to her side. 
 
 " 1 have come for you, Irene ; have obtained permission from 
 Dr. — for you to accompany us to the Academy of Design. 
 Put on your bonnet ; Harvey is waiting in the reception room. 
 We shall have a charmins; dav." 
 
 " Ah, Louisa ! you are all very kind to recollect me so con- 
 stantly. It will give me great pleasure to go." 
 
 When they joined the minister, Irene fancied he received her 
 coldly, and as they walked on he took no part in the conversa- 
 tion. The annual exhibition had just opened ; the rooms were 
 thronged with visitors, and the hushed tones swelled to a monot- 
 onous hum. Some stood in groups, expatiating eagerly on cer- 
 tain pictures ; others occupied the seats and leisurely scanned 
 now the paintings, now the crowd. Furnished with a catalogue, 
 the girls moved slowly on, while Mr. Young pointed out the 
 prominent beauties or defects of the works exhibited. They 
 made the circuit of the room, and began a second tour, when 
 their attention was attracted by a girl who stood in one corner, 
 with her hands clasped behind her. She was gazing very intent- 
 ly on an Ecce-Homo, and, though her face was turned toward 
 the wall, the posture bespoke most unusual interest. She was 
 dressed in black, and, having removed her straw hat, the rii)pliug 
 
1 00 MACAKIA ; OR, 
 
 jetty hair, cot short like a boy's, glistened in the mellow light. 
 Irene looked at her an instant, and held her breath ; she had 
 seen only one other head which resembled that — she knew the 
 purplish waving hair. " What is the matter ?" asked the min- 
 ister, noting the change in her countenance. She made no an- 
 swer, but leaned forward to catch a glimpse of the face. Just 
 then the black figure moved slightly ; she saw the profile, the 
 beautiful straight nose, the arched brow, the clear olive cheek ; 
 and gliding up to her she exclaimed : 
 
 " Electra ! Electra Grey I" 
 
 The orphan turned, and they were locked in a tight embrace. 
 
 " Oh, Irie ! I am so glad to see you. I have been here so 
 long, and looked for you so often, that I had almost despaired. 
 Whenever I walk down Broadway, whenever I go out anywhere, 
 I look at every face, peep into every bonnet, hoping to find you. 
 Oh ! I am so glad." 
 
 Joy flushed the cheeks and fired the deep eyes, and people 
 turned from the canvas on the walls to gaze upon two faces 
 surpassing in beauty aught that the Academy contained. 
 
 " But what are you doing in Xew York, Electra ? Is Russell 
 with you ? How long have you been here ?" 
 
 " Since October last. Russell is at home ; no, he has no home 
 now. When my aunt died we separated ; I came on to study 
 under Mr. Clifton's care. Have you not heard of our loss ?" 
 
 " I have been able to hear nothing of you. I wrote to Dr. 
 Arnold, inquiring after you, but he probably never received my 
 letter." 
 
 '' And your father ?" queried Electra proudly. 
 
 " Father told me nothing." 
 
 " Is the grave not deep enough for his hate ?" 
 
 " What do you mean ?" 
 
 " You don't probably know all that I do ; but this is no place 
 to discuss such matters ; sometime we will talk of it. Do come 
 and see me soon — soon. I must go now, I promised." 
 
 " Where do you live ? I will go home with you now." 
 
 " I am not going home immediately. Mr. Clifton's house is 
 No. 85 West street. Come this afternoon." 
 
ALTAKS OF SACRIFICE. lOl 
 
 Witli a long, warm pressure of hands they parted, and Irene 
 stood looking after the graceful figure till it glided out of siglit. 
 
 '* In the name of wonder, who is that ? You two liave been 
 the ' observed of all observers,' " ejaculated the impulsive 
 Louisa. 
 
 " That is my old schoolmate and friend of whom T once spoke 
 to you. I had no idea that she was in New York. She is a 
 poor orphan." 
 
 " Are you ready to return home ? This episode has evidently 
 driven pictures out of your head for to-day," said Mr. Young, who 
 bad endeavored to screen her from observation. 
 
 " Yes, quite ready to go, though I have enjoyed the morning 
 very much indeed, thanks to your kindness." 
 
 Soon after they reached home, Louisa was called into the par- 
 lor to see a young friend, and as Mrs. Young was absent, Irene 
 found it rather lonely up stairs. She thought of a new volume 
 of travels which she had noticed on the hall-table as they enter- 
 ed, and started down to get it. About half-way of the flight of 
 steps she caught her foot in the carpeting, where one of the rods 
 chanced to be loose, and despite her efforts to grasp the railing 
 fell to the floor of the hall, crushing one arm under her. The 
 llbrary-duor was thrown open instanth^, and the minister came 
 out. She lay motionless, and he bent over her. 
 
 " Irene ! where are you hurt ? Speak to me." 
 
 He raised her in his arms and placed her on the sofa in the 
 sitting-room. The motion produced great pain, and she groaned 
 and shut her eyes. A crystal vase containing some exquisite 
 perfume stood on his mother's work-table, and, pouring a por- 
 tion of its contents in his palm, he bathed her forehead. Acute 
 suffering distorted her features, and his face grew pallid as her 
 own while he watched her. Taking her hand, he repeated : 
 
 " Irene, my darling ! tell me how you are liui't ?" 
 
 She looked fit liim, and said with some difficulty : 
 
 " My ankle pains me very much, and I believe my arm is 
 broken. I can't move it." 
 
 "Ti.ank God yon are not killed." 
 
 He kissed her, then turned away and despatched a servant for 
 
102 MACARTA ; OR, 
 
 a physician. He summoned Louisa, and inquired fruitlessly for 
 his mother ; no one knew whither she had gone ; it would not 
 do to wait for her. He stood by the sofa and prepared the 
 necessary bandao*es, while his sister could onlv crv over and 
 caress the sufferer. When the physician came the white dimpled 
 arm was bared, and he discovered that tlie bone was broken. 
 The setting was extremely painful, but she lay with closed eyes 
 and firmly compressed lips, uttering no sound, giving no token of 
 the torture, save in the wrinklins: of her forehead. Thev bound 
 the arm tightly, and then the doctor said the ankle was badly 
 strained and swollen, but there was, luckily, no fracture. He 
 gave minute directions to the minister and withdrew, praising 
 the patient's remarkable fortitude. Louisa would talk, and her 
 brother sent her off to prepare a room for her friend. 
 
 "I think I had better go back to the Institution, Mr. Young. 
 It will be a long time before I can walk again, and I wish you 
 
 would have me carried back. Dr. will be uneasy, and 
 
 will prefer my returning, as father left me in his charge." She 
 tried to rij^e, but sank back on the pillow. 
 
 " Husii ! husli ! Y(ju will stay where you are, little cripple. 
 I am only thankful you happened to be here.'^ 
 
 He smoothed the folds of her hair from her temples, and for 
 the first time played with the curls he had so often before been 
 tempted to touch. She looked so slight, so childish, with her 
 head nestled against the pillow, that he forgot she was almost 
 sixteen, forgot everything but the beauty of her pale face, and 
 bent over her with an expression of the teuderest love. She was 
 suffering too much to notice his countenance, and only felt that he 
 was very kind and gentle, Mrs. Young came in very soon, and 
 heard with the deepest solicitude of what had occurred. Irene 
 again requested to be taken to the school, fearing that she 
 would cause too much trouble during her long confinement to 
 the house. But Mrs. Young stopped her arguments with kisses, 
 and would listen to no such arrangements ; she would trust to 
 no one but herself to nurse " the bruised Southern lily." Hav- 
 ing seen that all was in readiness, she insisted on carrying her 
 guest to the room adjoining Louisa's, and opening into her own. 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 103 
 
 ^fr. YcTunc: had g-one to Boston the day before, and, turning to 
 her son, slie said — 
 
 " Harvey, as your father is away, you must take Irene up 
 stairs ; I am not strong enough. Be careful that you do not 
 hurt her." 
 
 She led the way, and, bending down, he whispered — 
 
 " My little sister, put this uninjured arm around my neck ; 
 tliere — now I shall carry you as easily as if you were in a 
 cradle." 
 
 He held lier firmly, and as he bore her up the steps the white 
 face lay on his bosom, and the golden hair floated against his 
 cheek. If she had looked at him then, she would have seen more 
 than he intended that any one should know ; for, young and 
 free from vanity though she was, it was impossible to mistake 
 the expression of the eyes riveted upon her. She never knew 
 how his great heart throbbed, nor suspected that he turned his 
 lips to the streaming curls. As he consigned her to his mother's 
 care, she held out her hand and thanked him for his great kind- 
 ness, little dreaming of the emotions with which he held her 
 fingers. He very considerately offered to go at once to the 
 principal of the school, and accjuaint him with all that had oc- 
 curred ; and, ere long, when an anodyne had been administered, 
 she fell asleep, and found temporary relief. Mrs. Young wrote 
 immediately to Mr. Huntingdon, and explained the circumstances 
 which had made his daughter her guest for some weeks at least, 
 assuring him that he need indulge no apprehension whatever on 
 her account, as she would nurse her as tenderly as a mother 
 could. Stupefied by the opiate, Irene took little notice of what 
 passed, except when roused by the pain consequent upon dressing 
 the ankle. Louisa went to school as usual, but her mother rarely 
 left their guest ; and after Mr. Young's return he treated her 
 with all the affectionate consideration of a parent.* Several days 
 after the occun-ence of the accident Irene turned toward the 
 minister, who stood talking to his mother. 
 
 " Your constant kindness emboldens me to ask a favor of you, 
 which I think you will scarcely deny me. I am very anxious to 
 see the friend whom I so unexpectedly met at the Academy of 
 
104 MACAEIA ; OR, 
 
 Design ; and if he knew the circumstances that prevent my 
 leaving the house, I am very sui*e she would come to me. Here 
 is a card containing her address ; will you spare me the time to 
 bring her here to-day ? I shall be very much obliged to you." 
 
 "I think you ought to keep perfectly quiet, and see no com- 
 pany for a few days. Can't you wait patiently T' 
 
 '* It will do me no harm to see her. I feel as if I could not 
 wait." 
 
 " Very well. I will go after her as soon as I have fulfilled a 
 previous engagement. What is her name ?" 
 
 " Electra Grey. Did you notice her face ?" 
 
 " Yes ; but why do you ask ?" 
 
 " Because I think she resembles your mother." 
 
 " She resembles far more an old portrait hanging in my room. 
 I remarked it as soon as I saw her." 
 
 He seemed lost in thought, and immediately after left the room. 
 An hour later, Irene's listening ear detected the opening and 
 closing of the hall door. 
 
 " There is Electra on the steps ; I hear her voice. Will you 
 please open the door ?" 
 
 Mrs. Yx)ung laid down her work and rose to comply, but Har- 
 vey ushered the stranger in and then retired. 
 
 The lady of the house looked at the new comer, and a startled 
 expression came instantly into her countenance. She made a 
 step forward and paused irresolute. 
 
 " Mrs. Young, allow me to introduce my friend. Miss Electra 
 Grey." Electra bowed, and Mrs. Young exclaimed — 
 
 " Grey ! Grey ! Electra Grey ; and so like Robert ? Oh ! 
 it must be so. Child, who are you ? Where are your parents ?" 
 
 She approached and put her hand on the girl's shoulders, while 
 a hopeful light kindled in her eyes. 
 
 " I am an oi'phan, madam, from the South. My father died 
 ^before my birth, my mother immediately after." 
 
 " Was your father's name Robert ? Where was he from ?" 
 
 " His name was Enoch R. Grey. I don't know what his mid- 
 dle name was. He came originally from Pennsylvania, I be- 
 lieve." 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 105 
 
 " Oh ! I knew that 1 could not be mistaken ! My brother's 
 child ! Robert's child !" 
 
 She threw her arms around the astonished girl, and fetrained 
 her to her heart. 
 
 " There must be some mistake, madam. I never heard that I 
 had relatives in New York." 
 
 " Oh ! child ! call me aunt ; I am your father's sister. We 
 called him by his middle name, Robert, and for eighteen years 
 have heard nothing of him. Sit down here, and let me tell you 
 the circumstances. Your father was the youngest of three chil- 
 dren, and in his youth gave us great distress by his wildness ; he 
 ran away from college and went to sea. After an absence of 
 three years he returned, almost a wreck of his former self. My 
 mother had died during his long voyage to the South Sea Is- 
 lands, and father, who believed him to have been tlie remote 
 cause of her death (for her health failed soon after he left), up- 
 braided him most harshly and unwisely. His reproaches drove 
 poor Robert to desperation, and without giving us any clew, he 
 left home as suddenly as before. Whither he went we never 
 knew. Father was so incensed that he entirely disinherited him ; 
 but at his death, when the estate was divided, my brother Wil- 
 liam and I decided that we would take only what we considered 
 our proportion, and we set apart one-third for Robert. We ad- 
 vertised for several years, and could hear nothing of him ; and, 
 at the end of the fifth year, William divided that remaining third. 
 We knew that he must have died, and I have passed many a 
 sleepless night weeping over his wretched lot, mourning that no 
 kind words reached him from us ; that no monumental stone 
 marked his unknown grave. Oh, my dear child ! I am so glad 
 to find you out. But where have you been all this time ? Where 
 did Robert die ?" 
 
 She held the orphan's hand, and made no attempt to conceal 
 the tears that rolled over her cheeks. Electra gave her a de- 
 tailed account of her life from the time when she was taken to 
 her uncle, Mr. Aubrey, at the age of four mouths, till the death 
 of her aunt and her removal to New York. 
 
 " And Robert's child has been in want, while we knew not of 
 
106 MAC ART A ; OR 
 
 her existence ! Oh, Eleetra ! you shall have no more sorrow 
 that we can sliield you from. I loved your father very devoted- 
 ly, and I shall love his orphan quite as dearly. Come to me, let 
 me be your mother. Let me repair tlie wrong of by-goue years." 
 
 She folded her arms around the graceful young form and sob- 
 bed aloud, while Irene found it difficult to repress her own tears 
 of sympathy and joy that her friend had found such relatives. 
 Of the three, Eleetra was calmest. Though glad to meet with 
 her father's family, she knew better than they that this circum- 
 stance could make little alteration in her life, and therefore, when 
 Mrs. Young had left the room to acquaint her husband and son 
 with the discovery she had made, Eleetra sat down beside her 
 friend's sofa just as she w^ ould have done two hours before. 
 
 " I am so glad for your sake that you are to come and live 
 here. Until you know them all as well as I do, you can not pro- 
 perly appreciate your good fortune," said Irene, raishig herself 
 on her elbow. 
 
 " Yes, I am very glad to meet my aunt," returned Eleetra, 
 evasively, and then she added earnestly : 
 
 " But I rather think that I am gladder still to see you again. 
 Oh, Irene ! it seems an age since I came to this city. We have 
 both changed a good deal ; you look graver than when we part- 
 ed that spring morning that you took me to see the painter. I 
 owe even his acquaintance to your kindness." 
 
 " Tell me of all that happened after I left home. You know 
 that I have heard nothing." 
 
 The orphan narrated the circumstances connected with her 
 aunt's last illness and death ; the wretchedness that came upon 
 her and Russell ; the necessity of their separation. 
 
 " And where is Russell now ?" 
 
 " At home — that is, still with Mr. Campbell, who has proved 
 a kind friend. Russell writes once a week : he seems tolerably 
 cheerful, and speaks confidently of his future as a lawyer. He 
 studies very hard, and I know that he will succeed." 
 
 ** Your cousin is very ambitious. I wish he could have had a 
 good education." 
 
 " It will be all the same in the end. He will educate himself 
 
ALTARS OF 8ACRIFICK. 
 
 107 
 
 thoroiij^lily ; he needs nobody's assistance," answered Electra 
 with a proud smile. 
 
 '^ Wiieii you write to him again don't forget to tender him my 
 remembrances and best wishes." 
 
 " Tliaiik you." 
 
 A slight change came over the orphan's countenance, and her 
 companion noted without understanding it. 
 
 " Electra, you spoke of my father the other day in a warth it 
 puzzled me, and I wish, if you please, you would tell me what 
 you meant." 
 
 "I don't know that I ought to talk about things that should 
 have been buried before you w^ere born. But you probably 
 know something of what happened. We found out after you 
 left why you were so suddenly sent off to boarding-school, and 
 you can have no idea how much my poor aunt was distressed at 
 the thought of having caused your banishment. Irene, your fa- 
 ther hated her, and of course you know it ; but do you know 
 why ?" 
 
 " Xo ; I never could imagine any adequate Cjause." 
 
 " Well, I can tell you. Before aunt Amy's marriage your 
 father loved her, and to please her parents she accepted him. 
 She was miserable, because she was very much attached to my 
 uncle, and asked Mr. Huntingdon to release her from the en- 
 gagement. He declined, and finding that her parents sided with 
 him she left home and married against their wishes. They 
 adopted a distant relative, and never gave her a cent. Your fa- 
 ther never forgave her. He had great influence with the gover- 
 nor, and she went to him and entreated him to aid her in pro- 
 curing a pardon for her husband. He repulsed her cruelly, and 
 used liis influence against my uncle. She afterw^ard saw a letter 
 which he wrote to the governor, urging him to withhold a par- 
 don. Oh, Irene I if you could have seen Russell when he found 
 out all this. Now you have the key to his hatred ; now you 
 understand why he wrote you nothing concerning us. Not e\ eu 
 aunt Amy's coflin could shut in his hate." 
 
 She rose, and walking to the window, pressed her face against 
 the panes to cool her burning cheeks. 
 
108 MACARIA ; OR, 
 
 Irene had put her hand over her eyes, and a fearful panorama 
 of coming years rolled before her in that brief moment. She 
 saw with miserable distinctness the parallelism between Mrs. -Au- 
 brey's father and her own, and, sick at heart, she moaned, con- 
 templating her lot. A feeling of remorseful compassion touched 
 the orphan as she heard the smothered sound, and, resuming her 
 seat, she said gently : 
 
 " Do not be distressed, Irene ; ' let the dead past bury its 
 dead ;' it is all over now, and no more harm can come of it. I 
 shall be sorry that I told you if you let it trouble you." 
 
 Irene knew too well that it was not over ; that it was but the 
 beginning of harm to her ; but she repressed her emotion, and 
 changed the subject by inquiring how Electra progressed with 
 her painting. 
 
 "Even better than I hoped. Mr. Clifton is an admirable 
 master, and does all that he can to aid me. I shall succeed, 
 Irene ; I know, I feel that I shall, and it is a great joy to me." 
 
 " I am very glad to hear it ; but now you will have no need to 
 labor, as you once expected to do. You are looking much bet- 
 ter than I ever saw you, and have grown taller. You are nearly 
 sixteen, I believe ?" 
 
 " Yes, sixteen. I am three months your senior. Irene, I 
 must go home now, for they will wonder what has become of 
 me. I will see vou a2:ain soon." 
 
 She was detained by her aunt, and presented to the remainder 
 of the family, and it was arranged that Mr. and Mrs. Young 
 should visit her the ensuing day. While they talked over the 
 tea-table of the newly-found, Harvey went slowly up stairs and 
 knocked at Irene's door. Louisa was chattering delightedly 
 about her cousin, and, sending her down to her tea, he took 
 her seat beside the sofa. Irene lay with her fingers over her 
 eyes, and he said gently — 
 
 " You see that I am wiser than you, Irene. I knew that it 
 would do you no good to have company. Next time be ad- 
 vised." 
 
 " It was not Electra that harmed me." 
 
 " Then you admit that you have been harmed ?" 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 1m9 
 
 "No ; I am low-spirited to-nii^ht ; I believe that is all." 
 " You have not studied dialectics yet. People are uot low- 
 spirited without a cause ; tell me what troubles you." 
 She tui'ued her face to the wall, aud answered — 
 " Oh ! there is nothinp; which I can tell you, sir." 
 " Irene, why do you distrust me ?" 
 
 " I do not ; indeed I do not. You must not believe that for 
 one moment." 
 
 " You are distressed, and yet will not confide in me." 
 ** It is something which I ought not to .tell eveu my friend, my 
 brother." 
 
 " You are sure tliat it is something I could not remedy ?" 
 " Yes, sir ; perfectly sure." 
 ** Then try to forget it, and let me read to you." 
 He opened the " Rambler," of which she was particularly 
 fond, and beo-an to read. For a while she listened, and in her 
 interest forgot her forebodings, but after a time her long silky 
 lashes swept her cheeks, and she slept. The minister laid down 
 tlie volume and watched the pure girlish face ; noted all its 
 witching loveliness, and thought of the homage which it would 
 win her in coming years. A few more fleeting months, and she 
 would reign the undisputed queen of society. Wealth, intellect, 
 manly beauty, all would bow before her ; and she was a woman ; 
 would doubtless love and marry, like the majority of women. He 
 set this fact before him and looked it in the face, but it would 
 not answer ; he could not realize that she would ever be other 
 than the trusting, noble-hearted, beautiful child which she was 
 to him. He knew as he sat watching her slumber that he loved 
 her above everything on earth ; that she wielded a power none 
 had ever possessed before — that his heart was indissolubly linked 
 with hers. He had wrestled with this infatuation, had stationed 
 himself on the platform of common sense, and railed at and ridi- 
 culed this piece of folly. His clear, cool reason gave solemn ver- 
 dict against the fiercely-throbbing heart, but not one pulsation 
 had been restrained. At his age, with his profession and long- 
 laid plans, this was arrant madness, and he admitted it ; but the 
 long down-trodden feelings of his heart, having gained momen- 
 
110 MAC ART A : OR 
 
 tary freedom, exultingly ran riot and refused to be reined in. 
 He might just as well have laid his palm on the whitened crest 
 of surging billows in stormy, tropical seas, and bid them sink 
 softly down to their coral pavements. Human passions, hatred, 
 ambition, revenge, love, are despots ; and the minister, who for 
 tliirty years had struggled for mastery over these, now found 
 liimself a slave. He had studied Irene's couutenance too well 
 not to know that a shadow rested on it now ; and it grieved and 
 p'-.'r})iexed him that she should conceal this trouble from him. As 
 he sat looking down at her, a mighty barrier rose between them. 
 His future had long been determined — duty called him to the 
 rutle huts of the far West ; thither pointed the finger of destiny, 
 and thither, at all hazards, he would go. He thought'that he 
 bad habituated himself to sacrifices, but the spirit of self-abne- 
 gation was scarcely equal to this trial. Reason taught him that 
 the tenderly-nurtured child of southern climes would never suit 
 him for a companion in the pioneer life which he had marked 
 out. Of course, he must leave her ; hundreds of miles would in- 
 tervene ; his memory would fade from her mind, and for him it 
 only remained to bury her image in the prairies of his new home. 
 He folded his arms tightly over his chest, and resolved to go 
 promptly. 
 
 The gas-lio-ht flashed on Irene's hair as it hnnir over the side 
 
 CO ~ 
 
 of the sofa : he stooped, and pressed his lips to the floathig 
 curls, and went down to the library, smiling griuily at his own 
 folly. Without delay he wrote two letters, and was dating a third, 
 wlien his mother came in. Placing a chair for her, he laid down 
 bis pen. 
 
 " I am glad to see you, mother ; I want to have a talk with 
 you." 
 
 " About what, Harvey ?" — an anxious look settled on her 
 face. 
 
 " About my leaving you, and going West. I have decided to 
 start next week." 
 
 " Oh, my son ! how can you bring such grief upon me ? 
 Surely there is work enough for you to do here, without your 
 tearing yom'self from us." 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. Ill 
 
 " Yes, mother, work enono-li^ but hands enough also, witliout 
 mine. Tl.ese are the sunny slopes of the A^ineyard, and laborers 
 crowd to till tiieni ; but there are cold, shadowy, barren nooks 
 and corners, that equally demand cultivation. There the lines 
 have fallen to me, and there I go to my work. Nny, moth'T ! 
 don't weep, don't heighten, by your entreaties and remonstran- 
 ces, the barriers to my departure. It is peculiarly the province 
 of such as I to set forth for this field of operations ; men who 
 liave wives and children have no right to subject them to the 
 privations and hardships of pioneer life. But I am alone — shall 
 always be so — and this call I feel to be imperative. You know 
 that I have dedicated myself to the ministry, and whatever I 
 firmly believe to be my duty to the holy cause I have espoused, 
 that I must do, even though it separate me from my mother. 
 It is a severe ordeal to me— you will probably never know how 
 severe ; but we who profess to yield up all things for Christ must 
 not shrink from sacrifice. I shall come back now and then, and 
 letters are a blessed medium of communication and consolation. 
 I have delayed my departure too long already." 
 
 " Oh, Harvey ! have you fully determined on this step ?" 
 '' Yes, my dear mother, fully determined to go." 
 " It is very hard for me to give up my only son. I can't say 
 that I will reconcile myself to this separation ; but you are old 
 enough to decide your own future ; and I suppose I ought not 
 to urge you. For months I have opposed your resolution, now 
 I will «ot longer remonstrate. Oh, Harvey I it makes my heart 
 ache to part with you. If you were married, I should be better 
 satisfied ; but to think of you in your loneliness I" She laid her 
 head on his shoulder, and wept. 
 
 The minister compressed his lips firmly an instant, then 
 replied — 
 
 " I always told you that I should never marry. I shall be 
 too constantly occupied to sit down and feel lonely. Now, 
 mother, I must finish my letters, if you please, for they should go 
 by the earliest mail." 
 
112 MACAJKIA ; OR, 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 The artist stood at the window watcliinor for his pupil's 
 return; it was the late afternoon hour, which they were wont 
 to spend in reading, and her absence annoyed him. As he 
 rested carelessly against the window, his graceful form was dis- 
 played to great advantage, and the long brown haii ilrooped 
 about a classical face of almost feminine beauty. The"deil*iacy 
 of his features was enhanced by the extreme pallor of his com 
 plexion, and it was apparent that close application to his pro- 
 fession had made sad inroads on a constitution never very 
 robust A certain listlessness of manner, a sort of lazy-grace 
 seemed characteristic ; but when his pupil came in and laid 
 aside her bonnet, the expression of ennui vanished, and he threw 
 himself on a sofa looking infinitely relieved. She drew near, 
 and without hesitation acquainted him with the discov^.ry of 
 her relatives in New York. He listened in painful surpri^, 
 and, ere she had concluded, sprang up. " I understand ! they 
 will want to take you ; will urge you to share their home of 
 wealth. But, Electra, you won't leave me ; surely you won't 
 leave me ?" 
 
 He put his hands on her shoulders, and she knew from his 
 quick, irregular breathing, that the thought of separation greatly 
 distressed him. 
 
 '* My aunt has not explicitly invited me to reside with her, 
 though I inferred from her manner that she confidently expected 
 me to do so. Irene also spoke of it as a settled matter." 
 
 " You will not allow me to persuade you ? Oh, child ! tell 
 me at once you will never leave me." 
 
 " Mr. Clifton, we must part some day; I cannot always live 
 here, you know. Before very long I must go out and earn my 
 bread!" 
 
 " Never ! while I live. "When I offered you a home, I ex- 
 pected it to be a permanent one. I intended to adopt you. 
 Here, if you choose, you may work and earn a reputation ; but 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICK. 113 
 
 away from me, among strangers, never. Electra, you forget ; 
 vou gave yourself to me once.'' 
 
 She sliudilered, and tried to release herself, but the hands 
 were relentless in their grasp. 
 
 " Electra, you belong to me, my child. Whom have I to 
 love but you, my dear pupil ? What should I do without you ?" 
 
 '* I have no intention of living with my aunt; I desire to be 
 under obligations to no one but yourself. But I am very proud, 
 and even temporary dependence on you galls me. You are, I 
 believe, the best friend I have on earth, and until I can sup{>oi t 
 myself I will remain under your care ; longer than that it would 
 be impossible. I am bound to you, my generous, kind master, 
 as to DO one else." 
 
 " This does not satisfy me ; the thought that you will leave 
 me at even a distant day, will haunt me continually — marring 
 all my joy. It can not be, Electra ! You gave yourself to me 
 once, and I claim you." 
 
 She looked into his eyes, and, with a woman's quick percep- 
 tion, read all the truth. 
 
 In an instant her countenance changed painfully; she stoop- 
 ed, touched his hand with her lips, and exc'laimed : 
 
 " Thank you, a thousand times, my friend, my father ! for 
 your interest in, and your unvarying, unparalleled kindness to 
 me. All the gratitude and affection which a child could give 
 to a parent I shall always cherish toward you. Since it annoys 
 you, we will say no more about the future : let the years take 
 care of themselves as they come." 
 
 " Will you promise me positively that you will not go to 
 your aunt ?" 
 
 " Yes ; I have never seriously entertained the thought." 
 
 She escaped from his hands, and, lighting the gas, applied 
 herself to her books for the next hour. 
 
 If Irene found the restraint of boarding-school irksome, the 
 separation from Russell was well nigh intolerable to Electra. 
 At first she had seemed pluiiged in lethargy; but after a time 
 this mood gave place to restless, unceasing activity. Like one 
 trying to flee from something painful, she rushed daily to her 
 
114 MACAKIA ; OR, 
 
 work, and regretted when the honrs of darkness consigned her 
 to reflection. Mrs. Clifton was quite aged, and though uni- 
 formly gentle and affectionate toward the orphan, there was 
 1)0 common oround of congeniality on which they could meet. 
 To a proud, exacting nature like Electra's, Mr, Clifton's constant 
 manifestations of love and sympathy were very soothing. Writh- 
 ing under the consciousness of her cousin's indifference, she turn- 
 ed eagerly to receive the tokens of affection showered upon her. 
 She knew that his happiness centered in her, and vainly fancied 
 that she could feed her hungry heart with his adoration. But 
 by degrees she realized that these husks wouki not satisfy her ; 
 and a singular sensation of mingled gratitude and impatience 
 arose whenever he caressed her. In his house her fine intellect 
 found ample range ; an extensive library wooed her when not 
 engaged with her pencil, and with eager curiosity she plunged in- 
 to various departments of study. As mioht easily have been pre- 
 dicted, from the idealistic tendency of her entire mental confor- 
 mation, she early selected the imaginative realm as peculiarly her 
 own. Over moth-eaten volumes of mythologic lore she pored con- 
 tinually ; effete theogonies and cosmogonies siezed upon her 
 fancy, and peopled all space with the gods and heroes of most 
 ancient days. She lived amonof weird nhantasmacroric creations 
 of Sagus and Puranas, and roamed from Asgard to Kinkadulle, 
 having little sympathy or care for the realities that sur- 
 ruund-ed her. Mr. Clifton's associates were principally artists, 
 and the conversations to which she listened tended to increase 
 her enthusiasm lor the profession she had chosen. She had no 
 female companion, except Mrs. Clifton, and little leisure to dis- 
 cuss the topics which ordinarily engage girls of her age The 
 warm gushings of her heart were driven back to their springs, 
 and locked from human gaze ; yet she sometimes felt her isola- 
 tion almost intolerable. To escape from herself, she was goaded 
 into feveri.-h activity, and, toiling to-day, shut her eyes to the 
 to-morrow. 
 
 Siie comited the days betweeii Russell's letters ; when they 
 arrived, snatched them with trembling fingers, and hastened to 
 her own room to devour them. Once read and folded away, 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 115 
 
 this thoug-lit fell with leaden weiij^ht upon her heart : "There is 
 so little ill this letter, and now I must wait another long week 
 for the next." He never surmised half her wretchedness, for she 
 proudly concealed her discontent, and wrote as if happy and hope- 
 ful. The shell of her reserve was beautifully polished and paint- 
 ed, and it never occurred to him that it enclosed dark cells, wliere 
 only wailings echoed. In figure, she was decidedly peiit^ but 
 fiiultlessly symmetrical and graceful ; and the piquant beauty 
 of her face won her the admiration of those who frequented the 
 studio. 
 
 Among the artists especially, she was a well established pet, 
 privileged to inspect their work whenever she felt disposed, and 
 always warmly welcomed. They encom'aged her in her work, 
 stimulated her by no means dormant ambition, and predicted a 
 brilliant and successful career. Mrs. Clifton w^as a rigid Roman 
 Catholic, her son a free-thinker, in the broadest significance ©f 
 the term, if one might judge from the selections that adorned his 
 library shelves. But deep in his soul was the germination of a 
 mystical creed, which gradually unfolded itself to Electra. The 
 simple yet sublime faith of her aunt rapidly faded from the girl's 
 heart ; she turned from its severe simplicity to the gorgeous ac- 
 cessories of other systems. The pomp of ceremonial, the bewil- 
 dering adjuncts of another creed, wooed her overweening, ex- 
 cited fancy. Of doctrine she knew little, and cared less ; the 
 bare walls and quiet service of the old church at home had for 
 her no attraction : she revelled in dim cathedral light, among 
 mellow, ancient pictures, where pale wreaths of incense curled, 
 and solemn organ tones whispered through marble aisles. She 
 would sit with folded arras, watching the forms of devotees glide 
 in and out, and prostrate themselves before the images on the 
 gilt altar ; and fancy wafted her, at such times, to the dead ages 
 of imperial Greece, when devout hearts bore offerings to Delphi, 
 Dclos, Dpdona, and Eleusis. An arch-idolatress she would have 
 been in the ancient days of her Mycenaean namesake — a priestess 
 of Demeter or Artemis. At all hazards this dainty fancy must 
 be pampered, and she gleaned aliment from every source that 
 Could possibly yield it, fostering a despotic tendency which soon 
 
116 MACAEIA ; OR, 
 
 towered above every other element of her being. The first 
 glimpse of her teacher's Swedenborgian faith was sufficient to 
 rivet her attention. She watched the expansion of his theories, 
 and essayed to follow the profound trains of argumentation, based 
 on physical analogies and correspondences, which led him so irre- 
 sistibly to his conclusions. But dialectics formed no portion of 
 her intellectual heritage, and her imagination, seizing, by a kind 
 of secret affinity, the spirituaHstic elements of the system, turned 
 with loathing from the granite-like, scientific fundamentals. Irene 
 would have gone down among the mortar and bricks, measuring 
 the foundations, but Electra gazed upon the exquisite acanthus 
 wreathings of the ornate capitals, the glowing frescoes of the 
 mighty nave, and here was contest to rest. Mr. Clifton never 
 attempted to restrain her movements or oppose her inclinations ; 
 like a bee she roved ceaselessly from book to book, seeking 
 honey, and, without the safeguard of its unerring instinct, she 
 frequently gathered poison from lovely chalices. Ah, Amy 
 Aubrey ! it was an evil day for your orphan charge, when Atro- 
 pos cut the tangled thread of 'your life, and you left her to fol- 
 low the dictates of her stormy temperament. Yet otherwise, 
 nature could never have fully woven the pattern ; it would have 
 been but a blurred, imperfect design. It was late at night when 
 Electra retired to her room, and sat down to collect her thoughts 
 after the unexpected occurrences of the day. 
 
 More than one discovery had been made since the sunrise, 
 which she awoke so early to study. She had found relatives, and 
 an opportunity of living luxuriously ; but, in the midst of this 
 beautiful bouquet of surprises, a serpent's head peered out at her. 
 Once before, she thought she had caught sight of its writhing 
 folds, but it vanished too instantaneously to furnish disquiet. 
 Now its glittering eyes held her spell-bound ; like the Pentagram 
 in Faust, it kept her in "durance vile." She would fain have 
 shut her e\'es, had it been possible. Mr. Clifton loved her ; not 
 as a teacher his pupil, not as guardian loves ward, not as parent 
 loves child. Perhaps he had not intended that she should know 
 it so soon, but his eyes had betrayed the secret. She saw per- 
 fectly how matters stood. This, then, had prompted him, from 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 117 
 
 the first, to rciuler her assistance ; he had resolved to make her 
 liis wife ; nothiiiii: less would content him. She twisted her 
 white fingers in her hair, and gazed vacantly down on the car- 
 pet, and gradually the rich crimson blood sank out of her face. 
 She held liis life in the hollow of her hand, and this she well 
 knew ; death hung over him like the sword of Damocles ; she had 
 been told that any violent agitation or grief would bring on the 
 hemorrhage which he so much dreaded, and although he seemed 
 stronger and better than usual, the insidious nature of his dis- 
 ease gave her little hope that he would ever be robust. To feign 
 ignorance of his real feelings for her, would prove but a tempo- 
 rary stratagem ; the time must inevitably come, before long, 
 when he would put aside this veil and set the truth before her. 
 How should she meet it — how should she evade him ? Accept 
 the home which Mrs. Young would offer her, and leave him to 
 suffer briefly, to sink swiftly into the tomb ? No ; her father's 
 family had cast him most unjustly off, withholding his patrimony ; 
 and now she scorned to receive one cent of the money which his 
 father was unwillhig that he should enjoy. Beside, who loved 
 her as well as Henry Clifton ? She owed more to him than to 
 any living being ; it w^ould be the part of an ingrate to leave 
 him ; it was cowardly to shrink from repaying the debt. But 
 the thought of being his wife froze her blood, and heavy drops 
 gathered on her brow as she endeavored to reflect upon this pos- 
 sibility. 
 
 A feeling of unconquerable repulsion sprang up in her heart, 
 nerving, steeling her against his affection. With a strange in- 
 stantaneous reaction, she thought with loathing of his words of 
 endearment. How could she endure them in future, yet how re- 
 ject without wounding him ? One, and only one, path of escape 
 presented itself — a path of measureless joy. She lifted her 
 hands, and murmured : 
 
 " Russell ! Russell ! save me from this." 
 
 When Mr. and Mrs. Young visited the studio the following 
 day, and urged the orphan's removal to their house, she gently 
 but resolutely declined their generous offer, expressing an affec- 
 tionate gratitude toward her teacher, and a determination not 
 
118 MACAEIA ; OR, 
 
 to leave him, at least for the present. Mrs. Young was mucli 
 distressed, and adduced every argument of which she was mis- 
 tress, but her niece remained firm ; and finding their entreaties 
 fruitless, Mr. Young said that he would immediately take the 
 necessary steps to secure Robert Grey's portion of the estate to 
 his daughter. Electra sat with her hand nestled in her aunt's, 
 but when this matter was alluded to she rose, and said proudly : 
 
 " No, sir ; let the estate remain just as it is. I will never ac- 
 cept one cent. My grandfather on his deatli-bed excluded my 
 father from any portion of it, and since he willed it so, even so 
 it shall be. I have no legal claim to a dollar, and I will never 
 receive one from your generosity. It was the will of the dead 
 that you and my uncle, William, should inherit the whole, and 
 as far as I am concerned, have it you shall. I am poor, I know ; 
 so were my parents ; poverty they bequeathed as my birthright, 
 and even as they lived without aid from my grandfather, so will 
 I. It is very noble and generous in you, after the expiration of 
 nearly twenty years, to be willing to divide with the orphan of 
 the outcast ; but I will not, can not, allow you to do so. I 
 fully appreciate and most cordially thank you both for your 
 goodness ; but I atn young and strong, and I expect to earn my 
 living. Mr. Clifton and his mother want me to remain in his 
 house until I finish my studies, and I gratefully accept his kind 
 offer. Xay, aunt ! don't let it trouble you so ; I shall visit you 
 very frequently " 
 
 '* She has all of Robert's fierce obstinacy. I see it in her 
 eyes, hear it ringing in the tones of her voice. Take care, child I 
 it Kilned youi* father," said Mrs. Young, sorrowfully. 
 
 '' You should remember, Electra, that an orphan girl needs 
 a protector ; such I would fain prove myself." 
 
 As Mr. Young spoke, he took one of her hands and drew her 
 to him. She turned quickly and laid the other on the artist's 
 arm. 
 
 "I have one here, sir ; a protector as true and kind as my 
 own father could be." 
 
 She understood the flash of his eyes and his proud smile as he 
 assured her relatives that he would guard her from harm and 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 119 
 
 want so loiifj; as he lived, or as slie remained under his care. She 
 knew he regarded this as a tacit sealing of tlie old compact, and 
 she had no inclination to undeceive hini.at this juncture. 
 
 Urging her to visit them as often as possible, and extending 
 the invitation to Mr. Clifton, the Youngs withdrew, evidently 
 much disappointed ; and, as the door closed behind them, Eiec- 
 tra felt that the circle of doom was narrowing around her. Mr. 
 Clifton approached her, but averting her head she lifted the 
 damask curtain that divided the parlor from the studio and effect- 
 ed her retreat, dreading to meet his glance — putting off the evil 
 day as long as possible — trying to trample the serpent that 
 trailed after her from that hour. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 " You are better, to-day, mother tells me." 
 
 *' Yes, thank you, my foot is much better. You have not 
 been up to see me for twb days." 
 
 Irene sat in an easy chair by the open window, and the min- 
 ister took a seat near her. 
 
 " I have not forgotten you in the interim, however." As he 
 spoke he laid a bouquet of choice flowers in her lap. She bent 
 over them with eager delight, and held out one hand, saying : 
 
 "Oh, thank you ; how very kind you are. These remind me 
 of the green-house at home ; they are the most beautiful I have 
 seen in New York." 
 
 " Irene, the man or woman who is impervious to the subtle, spirit- 
 ualizing influence of flowers, may feel assured that there is some- 
 thing lamentably amiss in either his or her organization or habits 
 of life. They weave rosy links of associations more binding than 
 steel, and sometimes of incalculable value. Amid the awful soli- 
 tude of Alpine glaciers, I recollect the thrill of pleasure which 
 the blue gentians caused me, as I noted the fragile petals shud- 
 dering upon the very verge of fields of eternal snow ; and among 
 
120 MACAEIA ; OR, 
 
 the cherished memories of the far East are its acacias and riiodo- 
 dendrons ; the scariet poppies waving hke a ' mantle of blood' 
 over Syrian valleys, and the oleanders fringing the grey, gloomy 
 crags and breathing their exquisite fragrance over the silent deso- 
 lation of that grand city of rock — immemorial Petra. I have 
 remarked your fondness for flowers ; cultivate it always ; they 
 are evangels of pr.rity and faith, if we but unlock our hearts to 
 their ministry. Callous and sordid indeed must be that soul who 
 fails in grateful appreciation of gifts designed especially to pro- 
 mote the happiness and adorn the dwellings of our race ; for in 
 attestation of this truth, stand the huge, hoary tomes of geology, 
 proving that the pre-Adamic ages were comparatively barren of 
 the gorgeous flowers which tapestried the earth so munificently 
 just ere man made his appearances on the stage. A reverent 
 student of the rocks, who spent his life in listening to the solemn, 
 oracular whispers of their grand granite lips, that moved, Mem- 
 non-like, as he flashed the light of Revelation upon them, tells us : 
 * The poet accepted the bee as a sign of high significance : the 
 geologist, also, accepts her as a sign. Her entombed remains tes- 
 tify to the gradual fitting up of our earth as a place of habitation 
 for a creature destined to seek delight for the mind and eye as 
 certainly as for the grosser senses, and in especial mark the intro- 
 duction of stately forest trees, and the arrival of the delicious flow- 
 ers.' A profound thinker and eloquent writer, who is now doing a 
 noble work for his generation by pointing it to unstained sources 
 of happiness, has said of flowers : ' They are chalices of Divine 
 workmanship — of purple, and scarlet, and liquid gold — from 
 which man is to drink the pure joy of beauty.' There is, you 
 know, a graduated scale of missionary work for all created 
 things ; man labors for God and his race through deep, often 
 tortuous channels, and nature, all animate and inanimate nature, 
 ministers in feebler yet still heaven-appointed processes. The 
 trouble is, that, in the rush and din and whirl of life, we will not 
 pause to note these sermons ; and from year to year the whis- 
 pered precepts of faith, hope, and charity fall on deaf ears. Na- 
 ture is so prodigal of refining, elevating influences, and man is so 
 inaccessible in his isolating, mflated egotism." 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 121 
 
 He paiisod, and busied himself in cutting the leaves of a new 
 book, while Irene looked into his calm, noble face, pondering 
 his words; then her e\es went back to the bouquet, and his 
 dwelt once more upon her. 
 
 *' Irene, you look sober to-day ; come, cheer up. I don't 
 want to carry that grave expression away with me. I want to 
 remember your faoe as I first saw it, unshadowed." 
 
 " "What do you mean ? Are you going to leave home ?" 
 
 " Yes ; day after to-morrow I bid farewell to New York for 
 a long time. I am going to the West to take charge of a 
 church." 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Young ! surely you are not in earnest ? You can 
 not intend to separate yourself from your family ?*' 
 
 She dropped her flowers, and leaned forwaid. 
 
 " Yes, I have had it in contemplation for more than a year, 
 and, recently, I have decided to remove at once." 
 
 He saw the great sorrow written in her countenance, the 
 quick flutter of her lip, the large drops that dimmed the violet 
 eyes and gathered on the long golden lashes, and far sweeter 
 than the Eolian harps was the broken voice : 
 
 " What shall I do wnthout you ? who will encourage and 
 advise me when you go ?" 
 
 She leaned her forehead on her hands, and a tear slid down 
 and rested on her chin. The sun was setting, and the crimson 
 light firjoding the room bathed her with glory, spreading a halo 
 around her. He held his breath and gazed upon the drooping 
 figure and bewitching face ; and, in after years, when his dark 
 hair had grown silvery gray, he remembered the lovely sun-lit 
 vision that so entranced him, leaving an indelible image on 
 heart and brain. He gently removed the hands, and holding 
 them in his said, in the measured, low tone so indicative of 
 suppressed emotion : 
 
 " Irene, my friend, you attach too much importance to the 
 aid which I might render you. You know your duty, and I 
 feel assured will not require to be reminded of it. Henceforth 
 our paths diverge widely. I go to a distant section of our land, 
 there to do my Father's work ; and, ere long, having completed 
 
 6 
 
122 MACAKIA ; OE, 
 
 the prescribed course, you will return to your Southern home 
 and take the position assigned you in society. Thus, in all 
 human probability, we shall meet no more, for " 
 
 " Oh, sir ! don't say that ; j^ou will come bark to visit your 
 family, and then I shall see you." 
 
 " That is scarcely probable, but we will not discuss it now. 
 There is, however, a channel of communication for separated 
 friends, and of this we must avail ourselves. I shall write to 
 you from western wilds, and letters from you will most plea- 
 santly ripple the monotonous life I expect to lead. This is the 
 last opportunity I shall have to speak with you ; let me do so 
 freely, just as I would to Louisa. You are young, and rather 
 peculiarly situated ; and sometimes I fear that, in the great 
 social vortex awaiting you, constant temptation and frivolous 
 associations will stifle the noble impulses nature gave to guide 
 you. As you grow older you will more fully comprehend my 
 meaning, and find that there are social problems which everj; 
 true-hearted man and woman should earnestly strive to solve. 
 These will gradually unfold themselves as the web of time 
 unravels before you. You will occupy an elevated stand-point 
 of view, and you must take care that, unlike the great mass of 
 mankind, you do not grow callous, turning a deaf ear to the 
 cry * the laborers are few.'' It is not woman's place to obtrude 
 herself in the pulpit, or harangue from the rostrum ; such an 
 abnormal course levels the distinctions which an all-wise God 
 established between the sexes, but the aggregate of her useful- 
 ness is often greater than man's. Irene, I want you to wield 
 the vast influence your Maker has given you nobly and for His 
 glory. Let your unobtrusive yet consistent, resolute, unerring 
 conduct leave its impress for good wherever you are known. I 
 would not have you debar yourself from a single avenue of 
 pure enjoyment; far from it. Monkish asceticism and puri- 
 tanic bigotry I abhor ; but there is a happy medium between 
 the wild excesses of so-called fashionable life and the strait- 
 laced rigidity of narrow-minded phariseeism; and this I would 
 earnestly entreat you to select. To discover and adhere to 
 this medium path is almost as difficult as to skip across the 
 
ALTARS OF SACKIFICE. 123 
 
 Arabic Al-Sirat, of wl.ich wo read last week. Ultraism is the 
 curse of our race, as exempIiHed in all departments of society , • 
 avoid it, dear child; culrivate enlarged views of life, suppress 
 selfishness, and remember that charity is the key-stone of 
 Christianity." 
 
 " I have not tlie strength which you impute to me." 
 
 " Then seek it from the Everlasting source." 
 
 *' I do, but God does not hear me." 
 
 " You are too easily disheartened ; strive to be faithful and 
 He will aid you, brace you, uphold you. Will it be any comfort 
 for you to know that I remember you in my prayers, that I con- 
 stantly bear your name on my lips to the throne of grace ?" 
 
 " Oh, yes ! very great comfort. Thank you, thank you ; will 
 you always pray for me ? If I thought so it would make me 
 happier." 
 
 "Then rest assured that I always shall ; and, Irene, when 
 sorrows come upon you, for come they must to all, do not for- 
 get that you have at least one firm, faithful friend, waiting and 
 anxious to aid you by every means in his power." 
 
 Disengaging her fingers, which still clasped his tightly, he mov- 
 ed his chair backward and took a small blank book from his 
 pocket, saying : 
 
 " You once asked me to give you a catalogue of those works 
 which I thought it advisable for you to study, before you plung- 
 ed into miscellaneous reading. Such a list' you will find here, 
 and my experience has enabled me to classify them so as to save 
 you some of the trouble which I had at your age. In examin- 
 mg it, you will see that I have given prominence to the so-called 
 ' Xatural Sciences.^ As these furnish data for almost all branches 
 of investigation now-a-day (there being a growing tendency to 
 argue from the analogy of physics), you cannot too thoroughly 
 acquaint yourself with all that appertains to the subject. The 
 writings of Humboldt, Hugh Miller, Cuvier and Agassiz consti- 
 tute a thesaurus of scientific information essential to a correct 
 appreciation of the questions now agitating the thinking world ; 
 and as you proceed you will find the wonderful harmony of crea- 
 tion unfolding itself, proclahning, in unmistakable accents, that 
 
12i MACARIA ; OR, 
 
 the works of God ' are good.' As time rolls on, the great truth 
 looms up colossal, ' Science and Christianity are hand-maids, not 
 antao-onists.' Irene, remember : 
 
 ' A pagan kissing for a step of Pan, 
 The ■wild goat's hoof-print on the loamy down, 
 Exceeds our modern thinker who turns back 
 The strata — granite, limestone, coal, and claj', 
 Concluding coldly with ' Here's law ! where's God?' " 
 
 " Can't you stay longer and talk to me ?" said Irene, as he 
 gave the blank book to her and rose. 
 
 " No ; I promised to address the Street Sabbath-school 
 
 cliildren to-night, and must look over my notes before I go.'» 
 He glanced at his watch, smiled pleasantly, and left her. 
 
 The following day was dreary to all in that dwelling : Mrs. 
 Young went from room to room, collecting various articles be- 
 longing to her son, making no efforts to conceal the tears that 
 rolled constantly over her cheeks ; and now and then Louisa's 
 sobs broke the sad silence. Harvey was engaged in the library 
 packing his books, and Irene saw him no more till after tea. 
 Then he came up with his mother, and kindly inquired concern- 
 ing her arm. He saw tliat she shared the distress of the family, 
 and, glancing over his shoulder at his mother, he said, laugh- 
 ingly : 
 
 " She looks too doleful to be left here alone all the evening. 
 Can't we contrive to take her down stairs to the sitting-room ? 
 What think you, mother ?" 
 
 " Let her decide it herself. Shall Harvey take you down, my 
 dear ? It is his last evening at home, you know." Her voice 
 faltered as she spoke. 
 
 " I should like to join you all at prayer once more, and I think 
 I could walk down slowly, with a little help. Suppose you let 
 me try ; I walked a few steps yesterday, by pushing a chair be- 
 fore me." 
 
 " Be very careful not to strain your foot." She wrapped a. 
 light shawl around the girl's shoulders, and leaning on the minis- 
 ter's arm, she limped to the head of the stah'S ; but he saw, from 
 
ALTAKS OF SACRIFICE. 125 
 
 the wrinkle on her forehead, tliat the effort .t^ave her pain, and 
 taking her in his arms as if she were an infiint, he replaced her 
 in the chair. 
 
 " I see it will not do to carry you down yet. You arc not 
 strong- enough, and beside, you ought to be asleep. Irene, would 
 you like for nie to read and pray with you before I say gooc- 
 by ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir ; it would give me great pleasure." 
 
 Mrs. Young drew the candle-stand and Bible from its corner 
 and taking a seat near the arm chair, Harvey turned over the 
 leaves and slowly read the sixty-third and sixty-fourth chapters of 
 Isaiah. Ilis voice was low and sweet as a woman's, and the calm, 
 lofty brow on which the liglit gleamed was smooth and fair as a 
 child's, bearing no foot-prints of the thirty years that had crept 
 over it. Wlien the reading was concluded, he knelt and prayed 
 fervently for the girl who sat with her face hidden in her arms ; 
 prayed that she might be guided by the Almighty hand into 
 paths of peace and usefulness ; that she might be strengthened 
 to do the work required of her. There was no unsteadiness in 
 his tone, no trace of emotion, when he ended his prayer and stood 
 np before her. Irene was deeply moved, and when she essayed 
 to thank him, found it impossible to pronounce her words. Tears 
 were gliding down her cheeks ; he put back the hair, and taking 
 the face softly in his palms, looked long and earnestly at its fas- 
 cinating beauty. Tiie great, glistening blue eyes gazed into his, 
 and the silky lashes and rich scarlet lips trembled. lie felt the 
 hot blood surging like a lava-tide in his veins, and his heart ris- 
 ing in fierce rebellion at the stern interdict which he saw fit to 
 lay upon it ; but no token of all this came to the cool, calm sur- 
 face. 
 
 " Good-by, Irene. May God bless you, my dear little friend! " 
 He drew the face close to his own as though he would have 
 kissed her, but forbore, and merely raising her hands to his lips, 
 turned and left the room. Yerily, greater is '' he that ruleth his 
 own spirit than he that taketh a city." He left before breakfast 
 the ensuing morning, bearing his secret with him, having given 
 no intimation, by word or look, of the struggle which his resolu- 
 
126 macaeta; or, 
 
 tion cost liim. Once his motlier had fancied that he felt more 
 than a friendly interest in their guest, but the absolute repose of 
 his countenance and grave serenity of his manner during the last 
 week of his stay dispersed all her suspicions. From a luxurious 
 home, fond friends, and the girlish face he loved better than his 
 life, the minister went forth to his distant post, offering in sacri- 
 fice to God, upon the altar of duty, his throbbing heart and 
 hopes of earthly happiness, 
 
 A cloud of sadness settled on the household after his departure, 
 and scarcely less than Louisa's was Irene's silent grief. The 
 confinement grew doubly irksome when his voice and step had 
 passed from the threshold, and she looked forward impatiently to 
 her release. The sprain proved more serious than she had first 
 imagined, and the summer vacation set in before she was able to 
 walk with ease. Mr. Huntingdon had been apprised of her long 
 absence from school, and one day, when she was cautiously try- 
 ing her strength, he arrived, without having given premonition of 
 his visit. As he took her in his arms and marked the alteration 
 in her thin face, the listlessness of her manner, the sorrowful 
 gravity of her countenance, his fears were fully aroused, and, 
 holding her to his heart, he exclaimed : 
 
 " My daughter ! my beauty ! I must take you out of New 
 York." 
 
 " Yes, father, take me home ; do take me home." She clasped 
 her arms round his neck and nestled her face close to his. 
 
 " Not yet, queen. AVe will go to the Catskill, to Lake George, 
 to Niagara. A few weeks travel will invigorate you. I have 
 written to Hugh to meet us at ^Montreal ; he is with a gay party, 
 and you shall have a royal time. A pretty piece of business, 
 truly, that you can't amuse yourself in any other way than by 
 l)reaking half the bones in your body." 
 
 " Father, I would rather go home. Oh ! I am so tired of 
 this city, so sick of that boarding-school. Do, please, let me (^o 
 back v.'itii you." 
 
 " Oh, nonsense, Irene. Lift up your sleeve and let me see 
 your arm ; stretch it out ; all right, I believe ; sti'aight enough. 
 You were walking just now : liow is vour foot ?" 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 127 
 
 " Almost well, I tliiiik ; occasionally I have a twinge of pain 
 when I bear my whole weight on it." 
 
 " Be sure you do nut over-tax it for a while. By Monday you 
 will be able to start to Saratoga. Your aunt sent a trunk of 
 clothing, and, by the way, here is a letter from her and one from 
 Arnold. The doctor worries considerably about you ; is afraid 
 you will not be [)roperly attended to." 
 
 Thus the summer programme was determined without any 
 reference to the wishes of the one most concerned, and, knowing 
 her father's disposition, she silently acquiesced. After much 
 persuasion, Mr. Iluntingdom prevailed on Louisa's parents to 
 allow her to accompany them. The mother consented very re- 
 luctantly, and on the appointed day the party set off for Saratoga. 
 The change was eminently beneficial, and before they reached 
 Canada Irene seemed perfectly restored. But her father was 
 not satisfied. Her unwonted taciturnity aimoyed and puzzled 
 him ; he knew that beneath the calm surface some strong under- 
 current rolled swiftly, and he racked his brain to discover what 
 had rendered her so reserved. Louisa's joyous, elastic spirits 
 probably heightened the effect of her companion's gravity, and 
 the contrast daily presented could not fail to arrest Mr. Hunt- 
 ingdon's attention. On arriving at Montreal the girls were left 
 for a few moments in the parlor of the hotel, while Mr. Hunt- 
 ingdon weut to register their names. Irene and Louisa stood 
 by the window looking out into the street, when a happy, ringing 
 voice exclaimed : 
 
 " Here you are, at last, Irie I I caught a glimpse of your 
 curls as you passed the dining-room door." 
 
 She turned to meet her cousin and held out her hand. 
 
 " Does your majesty suppose I shall be satisfied with the tips 
 of your fingers ? Pshaw, Irie ! I will have my kiss." 
 
 He threw his arm round her shoulder, drew down the shielding 
 hands, and kissed her twice. 
 
 " Oh, Hugh ! behave yourself 1 Miss Louisa Young, my 
 cousin, Huj^h Sevmour." 
 
 He bowed, and shook hands with the stranger, then seized his 
 cousin's fingers and fixed his fine eyes affectionately upon her. 
 
128 MACARIA ; OR, 
 
 * It seems an age since I saw joii, Trio. Come, sit down and 
 let me look at you ; how stately you have grown, to be sure ! 
 More like a queen than ever ; absolutely two inches taller since 
 you entered boarding-school. Trie, I am so glad to see you 
 again !" He snatched up a handful of curls and drew them across 
 liis lips, careless of what Louisa might think. 
 
 '' Thank you, Hugh. I am quite as glad to see you." 
 
 " Oh, humbug ! I know better. You would rather see Para- 
 gon any day, ten to one. I will kill that dog yet, and shoot 
 Erebus, too ; see if I don't ! then maybe you can think of some- 
 body else. When you are glad you show it in your eyes, and 
 now they are as still as violets under icicles. I think you 
 might love me a little, at least as much as a dog." 
 
 " Hush ! I do love you, but I don't choose to tell it to every- 
 body in Montreal," 
 
 Mr. Huntingdon's entrance diverted the conversation, and 
 Irene was glad to escape to her own room. 
 
 " Your cousin seems to be very fond of you," observed Louisa, 
 as she unbraided her hair. 
 
 " He is very impulsive and demonstrative, that is all." 
 
 ** How handsome he is !" 
 
 " Do you think so, really ? Take care, Louisa ! I will tell 
 him, and, by way of crushing his vanity, add ' de gustibus, etc., 
 etc., eteJ^^ 
 
 *'How old is he?" 
 
 " In his twentieth year." 
 
 From that time the cousins were thrown constantly together ; 
 wherever they went Hugh took charge of Irene, while Mr. Hun- 
 tingdon gave his attention to Louisa. But the eagle eye was 
 upon his daughter's movements ; he watched her countenance, 
 weighed her words, tried to probe her heart. Week after week 
 he found nothing tangible. Hugh was gay, careless ; Irene 
 equable, but reserved. Finally they turned their faces home- 
 ward, and in October found themselves once more in New York. 
 Mr. Huntingdon prepared to return South and Hugh to sail for 
 Europe, while Irene remained at the hotel until the morning of 
 her cousin's departure. 
 
ALTARS OF SACRTF^ICE. 129 
 
 A private parlor adjoined the room slie occupied, and liere he 
 came to say farewell. She knew that he had already had a long 
 conversation with her father, and as he threw himself on the 
 sofa and seized one of her hands, she instinctively shrank from 
 him. 
 
 " Irene, here is my miniature. I wanted you to ask for it, 
 but I see that you won't do it. I know very well that you will 
 not value it one-thousandth part as much as I do your likeness 
 here on my watch-chain ; but perhaps it will remind you of me 
 sometimes. How I shall want to see you before I come home I 
 You know you belong to me. Uncle gave you to me, and when 
 I come back from Europe we will be married. We are both 
 very young, I know ; but it has been settled so long. Irie, my 
 beauty, I wish you would love me more ; you are so cold. Won't 
 you try ?" 
 
 He leaned down to kiss her, but she turned her face hastily 
 away and answered resolutely : 
 
 " No, I can't love you other than as my cousin ; I would not, 
 if I could. I do not think it would be right, and I won't pro- 
 mise to try. Father has no right to give me to you, or to any- 
 body else. I tell you now I belong to myself, and only I can 
 give myself away. Hugh, I don't consider this settled at all. 
 You might as well know the truth at once ; 1 have some voice 
 in the matter." 
 
 Mr. Huntingdon had evidently prepared him for something of 
 this kind on her part, and, though his face flushed angrily, he 
 took no notice of the remonstrance. 
 
 *' I siiall write to you frequently, and I hope that you will be 
 punctual in replying. Irie, give me your left haud just a minute ; 
 wear tiiis ring till I come back, to remind you that you have a 
 cousin across the ocean." 
 
 He tried to force the flashing jewel on her slender finger, but 
 she resisted, and rose, struggling to withdraw her hand. 
 
 " No, no, Hugh ! I can't ; I won't. I know very well what 
 that ring means, and I can not accept it. Release my hand ; I 
 tell you I won't wear it." 
 
 6* 
 
130 MA CARTA ; OR, 
 
 " Come, Hugh ; you have not a monieut to spare ; the car- 
 riage is waiting." Mr. Huntingdon threw open the door, hav- 
 ing heard every word tliat had passed. Hugh dropped the ring 
 in his vest-pocket and rose. 
 
 " Well, Lie, I suppose I must bid you farewell. Two or 
 three years will change you, my dearest little cousin. Good- 
 by ; think of me now and then, and learn to love me by the 
 time I come home." 
 
 She suffered him to take both her hands and kiss her tenderly, 
 for her father stood there and she could not refuse ; but the 
 touch of his lips burned her long after he was gone. She 
 put on her bonnet, and, when her father returned from the 
 steamer, they entered the carriage which was to convey her to 
 the dreary, dreaded school. As they rolled along Broadway, 
 Mr. Huntingdon coolly took her hand and placed Hugh's ring 
 upon it, saying, authoritatively : 
 
 " Hugh told me you refused to accept his parting gift, and 
 seemed much hurt about it. There is no reason why you should 
 not wear it, and in future 1 do not wish to see you without it. 
 Remember this, my daughter." 
 
 "Father, it is wrong for me to wear it, unless I expected 
 to " 
 
 " I understand the whole matter perfectly. Now, Irene, let 
 me hear no more about it. I wish you would learn that it is a 
 child's duty to obey her parent. No more words, if you please, 
 on the subject." 
 
 She felt that this was not the hour for resistance, and wisely 
 forbore ; but he saw rebellion written in the calm, fixed eye, 
 and read it in the curved lines of the full upper lip. She had 
 entreated him to take her home, and, only the night before, 
 renewed her pleadings. But his refusal was positive, and now 
 she went back to the hated school without a visible token of 
 regret. She saw her trunks consigned to the porter, listened 
 
 to a brief conversation between Dr. and her father, and, 
 
 after a hasty embrace and half-dozen words, watched the tall, 
 soldierly form re-enter the carriage. Then she went slowly up the 
 broad stairway to her cell-like room, and with dry eyes unpacked 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 131 
 
 her clothes, locked np the ring in her jewelry-box, and prepared 
 to resume her studies. 
 
 The stcirry veil concealing the Holy of Holies of her Futurity 
 had swayed just once, and as quickly swept back to its wonted 
 folds ; but in that one swift glance she saw, instead of hovering 
 Cherubim, gaunts pectres, woful, appalling as Brimo. At some 
 period of life all have this diia, transient, tantalizing glimpse of 
 the inexorable Three, the mystic Moira?, weaving with steely 
 fingers the unyielding web of human destiny. Some grow 
 cowardly, striving to wend their way behind or beyond the 
 out-spread net-work, tripping, at last, in the midst of the snare ; 
 and some, with set teeth and rigid limbs, scorning to dodge 
 the issue, grapple with the Sisters, resolved to wrench the cun- 
 ning links asunder, trusting solely to the palladium of Will. 
 Irene's little feet had become entangled in the fatal threads, and, 
 with no thought of flight, she measured the length and breadth 
 of the web, nerving herself to battle till the death. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 A HALO seems to linger around the haunt? of Genius, as though 
 the outer physical world shaped itself in likeness to the Ideal, 
 and at the door of Mr. Clifton's studio, crude, matter-of-fact 
 utilitarians should have '' put off their shoes from their feet" be- 
 fore treading precincts sacred to Art. It was a long, lofty, nar- 
 row room, with a grate at one end, and two windows at the 
 other, opening on the street. The walls were stained of a pale 
 olive hue, and the floor was covered with a carpet of green, em- 
 broidered with orange sheaves of wheat. In color, the morocco- 
 cushioned chairs and sofas matched it well, and from the broad, 
 massive cornice over the windows — cornice representing writhing 
 serpents in clusters of oak leaves — folds of golden-flowered bro- 
 catel hung stiff and stately to the floor. The ceiling rose dome- 
 like iu the centre, aud here a skylight poured down a flood of. 
 
132 MAC ARIA ; OR 
 
 radiance on sunny days, and furnished a faint tattoo when rain- 
 drops rattled over its panes. Crowded as the most ancient cata- 
 combs of Thebes was tliis aidier, but witii a trifle less ghostly 
 tenants. Plaster statues loomed up in the corners, bronze busts 
 and marble statuettes crowned mantle and sundry tables oud 
 wooden pedestals ; quaint antique vases of china, crystal, alabas- 
 ter, terra-cotta, and wood dark as ebony with age and polished 
 like glass, stood here and there in a sort of well-established, 
 regular irregularity, as if snatched from the ashy shroud of Her- 
 culaueum aud put down hastily in the first convenient place. An 
 Etruscan vase, time and lichen-stained, was made the base for an 
 unframed piece of canvas, which leaned back against the wall ; 
 and another, whose handles were Medusa-heads, and before 
 which, doubtless, sonie Italian maiden, in the palmy days of 
 Rome, had stood twining the feathery sprays of blossoms whose 
 intoxicating perfume might still linger in its marble depths, was 
 now the desecrated receptacle of a meerschaum and riding-whip. 
 The walls were tapestried with paintings of all sizes, many richly 
 framed, one or two covered with glass, aud so dark as to pass, 
 without close examination, for a faithful representation, of Pha- 
 raoh's ninth plague ; some lying helplessly on the olive back- 
 ground, others leaning from the wall at an acute angle, looking 
 threatening, as if fiery souls had entered and stirred up the 
 figures — among which Deianira, bending forward with jealous 
 rage to scan the lovely Jole, destined to prove the At^ of her 
 bouse. Where a few feet of pale green would have peered forth 
 between large pictures, crayon sketches were suspended ; and ou 
 the top of more than one carved frame perched stuffed birds of 
 gorgeous tropical hues, a mimic aviary, motionless and silent as 
 if Perseus had stepped into a choral throng and held up the Gor- 
 gon's head. In the centre of the room, under the skylight, stood 
 the artist's easel, holding an unfinished picture, and over its face 
 was drawn a piece of black silk. Farther off was another easel, 
 smaller, and here was the dim outhne of a female head traced by 
 the fair, slender fingers of a tyro. It was late October ; a feeble 
 flame flickered in the grate ; on the rug crouched an English 
 spaniel, creeping closer as the heat died out and the waning light 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 133 
 
 of (lay crradiially receded, leavintc the room dusky, save where a 
 shuitiiig line of yellow quivered down from the roof and gilt the 
 folds of black silk. At one of tlie windows .stood Electra, half 
 concealed by the heavy green and gold drapery, one dimpled 
 hand clinging to the curtains, the other pressed against the panes, 
 as she watched the forms hurrying along the street below. The 
 gas was already lighted on the crowded highways of the great 
 city, and the lamp just beneath the window glared up like an 
 electric eye. She was dressed in half-mourning, in sober gray, 
 with a black crape collar at the throat. " There is no exquisite 
 beauty without some strangeness in the proportions," says Barou 
 A'erulam ; and the strangeness of Electra's countenance certainly 
 lay in the unusual width between the eye-browns. Whatever sig- 
 nificance learned phrenologists or physiognomists attach to this 
 peculiarity, at all events it imparted piquancy to the features that 
 I am striving to show you by that flaming gas-light. Her 
 watching attitude denoted anxiety, and the bloom on her cheek 
 had faded, leaving the whole face colorless. The lower lip was 
 drawn under, and held hard and tight by the pearly teeth, while 
 the wide-strained eyes — 
 
 " Shining eyes like antique jewels set in Parian statne-stone — " 
 
 searched every face that passed the window. " That hope de- 
 ferred maketh the heart sick," she stood there in attestation ; 
 yet it was not passive sorrow printed on her countenance — rather 
 the momentary, breathless exhaustion of a wild bird beating oat 
 its life in useless conflict with the unyielding wires of its cage. 
 The dying hope, the despairing dread, in that fair young face, 
 beggars language, and as the minutes crept by the words burst 
 from her lips : " Will he never, never come !" 
 
 For three weeks she had received no letter from Russell ; he 
 was remarkably punctual, and this long, unprecedented interval 
 liiled her, at first, with vague uneasiness, which grew finally into 
 horrible foreboding. For ten days she had stood at this hour, 
 at the same window, waiting for Mr. Clifton's return from the 
 post-office. Ten times the word " No letter" had fallen, like the 
 
134 macaria; ok, 
 
 voice of doom, on her tlirobbing heart. " No letter !" — she 
 heard it in feverish dreams, and fled continually from its hissing. 
 Only those who have known what it is to stake their hopes on a 
 sheet of letter-paper ; to wake at dawn, counting the hours, till 
 the mail is due, working diligently to murder time till that hour 
 rolls round ; to send a messenger, in hot haste, to watch the 
 clock, giving him just so many minutes to go and come ; to lis- 
 ten for the sound of returning steps, to meet him at the door 
 with outstretched hands, and receive — " no letter ;" only those 
 who have writhed on this rack know the crushing thought with 
 which they pressed cold hands to aching hearts ; '* another 
 twenty-four hours to be endured before the next mail comes in ; 
 what shall I do till then ?" These are the trials that plough 
 w^rinkles in smooth girlish brows ; that harden tlie outline of soft 
 rosy lips ; that sicken the weary soul, and teach women decep- 
 tion. Electra knew that Mr. Clifton watched her narrowly, sus- 
 piciously ; and behind the mask of gay rapid words, and ringing 
 mirthless laughter, she tried to hide her suffering. Ah ! God 
 pity all who live from day to day hanging upon the brittle thread 
 of hope. On this eleventh day suspense reached its acme, and 
 time seemed to have locked its wheels to lengthen her torture. 
 Mr. Clifton had been absent longer than usual ; most unwitting- 
 ly we are sometimes grand inquisitors, loitering by the way when 
 waiting hearts are secretly, silently dropping blood. At last an 
 omnibus stopped, and Mr. Clifton stepped out, with a bundle of 
 papers under his arm. Closer pressed the pallid face against the 
 glass ; firmer grew the grasp of the icy fingers on the brocatel ; 
 she had no strength to meet him. He closed the door, hung up 
 his hat, and looked into the studio ; no fire in the grate, no light 
 in the gas-globes — everything cold and dark save the reflection 
 on that front window. 
 
 " Electra 1" 
 
 "I am here." 
 
 " No letter." 
 
 She stood motionless a moment ; but the brick walls opposite, 
 the trees, the lamp-posts spun around, like maple leaves in an 
 autumn gale. 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 135 
 
 " My owlet ! why don't you have a li^lit and some fire ?" 
 
 He stumbled toward her, and put his hand on her shoulder, 
 but she shrank away, and, lighting the gas, rang for coal. 
 
 " There is something terrible the matter ; Russell is either ill 
 or dead. I must go to him." 
 
 " Xonsensc ! sheer nonsense ; he is busy, that is all. Your 
 cousin has forgotten you for the time ; after a while he will 
 write. You are too exacting ; young men sometimes find con- 
 stant, regular correspondence a bore ; a letter every week is too 
 much to expect of him. Don't be cliildish, IClectra." 
 
 As she noticed the frown on his face, a dark suspicion seized 
 her ; " perhaps he had intercepted her letters." Could he stoop 
 to such an astifice ? 
 
 " Electra, I would try to divert my mind. After all, his let- 
 ters are short, and I should judge, rather unsatisfactory." 
 
 " What do you know of the length or contents of his let- 
 ters ?-•' 
 
 " I know they are brief, because I occasionally see them open 
 in your hand ; I judge that they are unsatisfactory from the 
 cloud on your face whenever they come. But I have no dispo- 
 sition to contest the value of his correspondence with you. That 
 article on chiaroscuro has arrived at last ; if you feel inclined, 
 you can begin it at once." 
 
 Chiaroscuro, forsooth 1 Mockery ! She had quite chiaro- 
 scuro enough, and to spare ; but the smile on the artist's lip 
 stung her, and, without a word, she took a seat at his side and 
 began to read. Page after page was turned, technicalities 
 slipped through her lips, but she understood as little of the essay 
 as if the language had been Sanscrit instead of Saxon ; for, like 
 the deep, undying murmur of the restless sea, there rang in her 
 ears, " Xo letter ! no letter !" As she finished the pamphlet 
 and threw it on the table, her hands dropped listlessly on her 
 lap. Mr. Clifton was trying to read her countenance, and im- 
 patient of his scrutiny, she rose to seek her own room. Just 
 then the door-bell rang sharply ; she supposed it was some 
 brother -artist coming to spend an hour, and turned to go. 
 
 ** Wait a minute ; I want to ;" he paused, for at that 
 
136 MACAEIA ; OR, 
 
 instant she heard a voice which, even amid the din of Shiuar, 
 would have been unmistakable to her, and breaking from him, 
 she sprang to the threshold and met her cousin. 
 
 " Oh, Russell I I thought you had forgotten me." 
 
 " What put such a ridiculous thought into your head ? My 
 last letter must have prepared you to expect me." 
 
 " What letter ? I have had none for three weeks." 
 
 " One in which I mentioned Mr. Campbell's foreign appoint- 
 ment, and the position of secretary which he tendered me. Elec- 
 tra, let me speak to Mr. Clifton." 
 
 As he advanced and greeted the artist she heard a quick, 
 snapping sound, and saw the beautiful Bohemian glass paper- 
 cutter her guardian had been using lying shivered to atoms, on 
 the rug. The fluted handle was crushed in his fingers, and drops 
 of blood oozed over the left hand. Ere she could allude to it 
 he thrust his hand into his pocket and desired Russell to be 
 seated. 
 
 " This is a pleasure totally unexpected. What is the appoint- 
 ment of which you spoke !" 
 
 " Mr. Campbell has been appointed Mhiister to , and 
 
 sails next week. I am surprised that you have not heard of it 
 from tiie public journals ; many of them have spoken of it, and 
 warmly commended the selection. I accompany him in the 
 capacity of secretary, and shall, meanwhile, prosecute my studies 
 under his direction." 
 
 The gray, glittering eyes of the artist sought those of his 
 pupils, and for an instant hers quailed ; but, rallying, she looked 
 fully, steadfastly at him, resolved to play out the game, scorn- 
 ing to Ijare her heart to his scrutiny. She had fancied that 
 Russell's affection had prompted this visit ; now it was apparent 
 that he came to New York to take a steamer, not to see her ; to 
 put the stormy Atlantic between them. The foaming draught 
 which she had snatched to her lips so eagerly, so joyfully, was 
 turning to hemlock as she tasted ; and though she silently put 
 the cup from her, it was done smilingly ; there were no wry faces, 
 no gestures of disgust. 
 
 " New York certainly agrees with you, Electra ; you have 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 137 
 
 groAvn and improved very much since you came Xorth. I never 
 saw such color in your cheeks before ; I can scarcely believe that 
 you are the same fragile child I put into the stage one year ago. 
 Tiiis reconciles me to having given you up to Mr. Clifton ; he is 
 a better guardian than I could have been. But tell me some- 
 thing more about these new relatives you spoke of having found 
 there." 
 
 ^Ir. Clifton left the room, and the two sat side by side for an 
 hour talking of the gloomy past, the flitting present, the uncer- 
 tain future Leaning back in his chair, with his eyes fixed on 
 the grate, Russell said, gravely : 
 
 " There is now nothing to impede my successful career ; ob- 
 stacles are rapidly meltmg away ; every day brings me nearer 
 the goal I long since set before me. In two years at farthest, 
 P-'rhaps earlier, I shall return and begin the practice of law. 
 Once admitted, I ask no more. Then, and not till then, I hope 
 to save you from the necessity of labor ; in the interim, ]Mr. 
 CUfton will prove a noble and generous friend ; and believe me, 
 my cousin, the thought of leaving you so long is the only thing 
 which will mar the pleasure of my European sojourn." 
 
 The words were kind enough, but the tone was indifferent, 
 and the countenance showed her that their approaching separa- 
 tion disquieted him little. She thought of the sleepless nights 
 and wretched days she had passed waiting for a letter from that 
 tall, reserved, cold cousin, and her features relaxed in a derisive 
 smile at the folly of her all-absorbing love. Raising his eyes ac- 
 cidentally, he caught the smile, wondered what there was to call 
 it forth in the plans which he had just laid before her, and, 
 meeting his glance of surprise, she said, carelessly : 
 
 " Are you not going to see Irene before you sail ?" 
 
 His cheek flushed as he rose, straightened himself, and an- 
 swered : 
 
 *' A strange question, truly, from one who knows me as well 
 as you do. Call to see a girl whose father sent her from home 
 solely to prevent her from associating with my family I Through 
 what sort of metamorphosis do you suppose that I have passed, 
 that every spark of self-respect has been crushed out of me ?" 
 
138 MAC ARIA ; OR, 
 
 " Her father's tyranny and selfishness can never nullify her 
 noble aud affectionate remembrance of Aunt Amy, in the hour 
 of her need." 
 
 " Aud when I am able to repay her every cent we owe her, 
 then, and not till then, I wish to see her. Things shall change ; 
 mens cujusque is est quisque; and the day will come when Mr. 
 Huntingdon may not thhik it degrading for his daughter to ac- 
 knowledge my acquaintance on the street." 
 
 A brief silence ensued, Russell drew on his gloves, aud finally 
 said, hesitatingly : 
 
 " Dr. Arnold told me she had suffered very much from a 
 fall." 
 
 " Yes ; for a long time she was confined to her room," 
 
 " Has she recovered entirely ?" 
 
 " Entirely. She grows more beautiful day by day." 
 
 Perhaps he wished to hear more concerning her, but she 
 would not gratify him, and, soon after, he took up his hat. 
 
 " Mr. Clifton has a spare room, Russell ; why can't you stay 
 with us wliile yon are in Xew York ?" 
 
 *' Thank you ; but Mr, Campbell will expect me at the hotel ; 
 I shall be needed, too, as he has many letters to write. I will 
 see you to-morrow, and indeed every day while I remain in the 
 city." 
 
 " Then pay your visits in the morning, for I want to take 
 jour portrait with my own hands. Give me a sitting as early 
 as possible." 
 
 " Yery well ; look for me to-morrow. Good-night." 
 
 The week that followed was one of strangely-mingled sorrows 
 aud joys ; in after years it served as a prominent land-mark to 
 which she looked back and dated sad changes in her heart. 
 Irene remained ignorant of Russell's presence in the city, and at 
 last the day dawned on which the vessel was to sail. At the 
 breakfast table Mr. Clifton noticed the colorlessness of his pupil's 
 face, but kindly abstained from any allusion to it. He saw that, 
 contrary to habit, she drank a cup . of coffee, and, arresting her 
 arm as she requested his mother to give her a second, he said, 
 gently — 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 139 
 
 " My dear child, whore did you suddenly find such Turkish 
 tastes ? I thoug-ht you disliked cotree ?" 
 
 " I take it now as medicine. My head aches horribly." 
 
 " Then let me prescribe for you. We will go down to tlic 
 steamer with Kussell, and afterward take a long ride to Green- 
 wood, if you like." 
 
 " lie said be would call here at teu o'clock to bid us 
 farewell." 
 
 " NHmjporte. The carriage will be ready, and we will accom- 
 pany him." 
 
 At the appointed hour they repaired to the vessel, and, look- 
 ing at its huge sides, Electra coveted even a deck passage ; 
 envied the meanest who hurried about, making all things ready 
 for departure. The last bell rang ; people crowded down on th« 
 planks ; Russell hastened back to the carriage, and took the 
 nerveless, gloved hand. 
 
 " I will write as early as possible ; don't be uneasy about me ; 
 no accident has ever happened on this line. I am glad I leave 
 you with such a friend as Mr. Clifton. Good-by, cousin ; it 
 will not be very long before we meet again." 
 
 He kissed the passive lips, shook hands with the artist, and 
 sprang on board just as the planks were withdrawn. The vessel 
 moved majestically on its way ; friends on shore waved handker- 
 chiefs to friends departing, and hands w^re kissed and hats lifted, 
 and then the crowd slowly dispersed — for steamers sail every 
 week, and people become accustomed to the spectacle. But to- 
 day it was freighted with the last fond hope of a deep and pas- 
 sionate nature ; and as Electra gazed on the line of foam white- 
 ning the didl surface of the water, the short-lived billows and 
 deep hollows between seemed newly-made graves, whose hungry 
 jaws had closed for ever over the one bright lingering hope which 
 she had hugged to her heart. 
 
 " Are you ready to go now ?" asked Mr. Clifton. 
 
 " Yes, ready, quite ready — for Greenwood." 
 
 She spoke in a tone which had lost its liquid music, and with 
 a wintry smile that fled over the ashy face, lending the features 
 r.o light, no warmth. 
 
140 MACAEIA ; OR, 
 
 He tried to dirert her mind by calling attention to various 
 things of interest, but the utter exhaustion of her position and 
 tlie monosyllabic character of her replies soon discouraged him. 
 Both felt,relieved when the carriage stopped before the studio, 
 and as he led her up the steps he said, affectionately : 
 
 " I am afraid my prescription has not cured your head." 
 
 " No, sir ; but I thank you most sincerely for the kind effort 
 vju have made to relieve me. I shall be better to-morrow. 
 Good-by, till then." 
 
 *' Stay, my child. Come into the studio, and let me read 
 something light and pleasant to you." 
 
 " Not for the universe ! The sight of a book would give me 
 brain fever, I verily believe." 
 
 She tried unavailingly to shake off his hand. 
 
 " Why do you shrink from me, my pupil ?" 
 
 "Because I am sick, weary ; and you watch me so that I 
 get restless and nervous. Do let me go ! I want to sleep." 
 
 An impatient stamp emphasized the words, and, as he reiaxed 
 his clasp of her fingers, she hastened to her room, and locked the 
 door to prevent all intrusion. Taking off her bonnet, she drew 
 the heavy shawl closely around her shoulders and threw herself 
 across the foot of the bed, burying her face in her hands lest the 
 bare walls should prove witnesses of her agony. Six hours later 
 she lay there still, with pale fingers pressed to burning, dry eye- 
 lids. 
 
 Oh, bigotry of human nature I By what high commission, by 
 what royal patent, do men and women essay to judge of fellow- 
 men and sister-women by one stern, inexorable standard, unyield- 
 ing as the measure of Damastes ? The variety of emotional and 
 intellectual types is even greater than the physical, and, as the 
 ages roll, we need other criteria. Who shall dare lay finger on 
 fellow-creature and audaciously proclaim : '' I have gone dowu 
 among the volcanic chambers of this soul and groped in its ady- 
 tum, amid the dust and ruins of its overturned altars and crum- 
 bling idols ; have fathomed its mysteries, and will tell you, by 
 infalUble plummet, the depths thereof." There are sealed cells, 
 where, veiled from scrutiny and sacred as Eleusinia, burns the 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 141 
 
 God-given shecljinali of the luiinau soul. As the myriad shells 
 that tessellate old ocean's pavements, as the vast army of innu- 
 merable clouds which ceaselessly shift their coloring and their 
 forms at the presto of wizard winds ; as the leaves of the forest 
 that bud and wane in the flush of summer or the howl of wintry 
 storms, so we differ one from another. Linnaeus and Jussien, 
 with microscopic aid, have classified and christened ; but now 
 and then new varieties startle modern savana, and so likewise 
 new types stalk among men and women, whose elements will 
 neither be lopped off nor elongated to meet the established mea- 
 sure. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Once more the labors of a twelve-month had been exhibited 
 at the Academy of Design — some to be classed among things 
 " that were not born to die ;" others to fall into nameless graves. 
 Manv, who had worked faithfullv, recognizins; the sacredness of 
 their commission, had climbed higher in public estimation ; and 
 a few, making mere pastime, or resting upon a reputation already 
 earned, had slipped back. Mr. Clifton was represented by an 
 exquisite (Enone, and on the same wall, in a massive oval frame, 
 hung the first finished production of his pupil. For months after 
 RusselFs departure she sat before her easel, slowly filling up the 
 outline sketched w4iile his eyes watched her. She lingered over 
 her work, loath to put the final stroke, calling continually upon 
 Memory to furnish the necessary details ; and frequently, in re- 
 caUing transient smiles, the curl of his lip, or bending of his brow, 
 palette and brush would slip from her fingers, while she sat weav- 
 ing the broken yet priceless threads of a hallowed Past. Appli- 
 cation sometimes trenches so closely upon genius as to be mista- 
 ken for it in its results, and, where both are happily blended, the 
 bud of Art expands in immortal perfection. Electra spared no 
 toil, and so it came to pass that the faultless head of her idol ex- 
 cited intense and universal admiration. In the catalogue it was 
 
142 MAC^VEIA ; OR, 
 
 briefly mentioned as " Xo. IT — a portrait ; first efTort of a young 
 female artist." Connoisseurs, who had committed themselves 
 by extravagant praise, sneered at the announcement of the cata- 
 logue, and, after a few inquiries, blandly asserted that no tyro 
 could have i^roduced it ; that the master had wrought out its 
 perfection, and generously allowed the pupil to monopolize the 
 encomiums. In vain Mr. Clifton disclaimed the merit, and as- 
 serted that he had never touched the canvas ; that she had jeal- 
 ously refused to let him aid her. Incredulous smiles and unmis- 
 takable motions of the head were the sole results of his expostu- 
 lation. Little mercy has a critical world for novices, particular- 
 ly those clad in woman's garments ; few helping hands are kind- 
 ly stretched toward her trembling fingers, few strengthening 
 words find her in her seclusion ; and when these last do come in 
 friendly whispers, are they not hung up " as apples of gold in 
 pictures of silver " along the chequered walls of memory ? Cold 
 glances generally greet her earliest works ; they are handled sus- 
 piciously, the beauties are all extracted, set in a row, and label- 
 led "plagiarisms ;" the residue, like dross in crucibles, is handed 
 back as " original, and her undoubted property." Or, perchance, 
 the phraseology varies, and she hears " This book, this statue, 
 this picture, is no unpracticed woman's work ; we speak advised- 
 ly and pronounce the fact, that pen, or rasp, or chisel, or brush, 
 belongs unmistakably to a master — an experienced writer or vet- 
 eran artist." It is this bent of human nature to load with chai> 
 lets well-estabHshed favorites of fame, to " whitewash" continual- 
 ly \with praise, to jealously withhold the meed of beginners, ren- 
 dering grudgingly " Ccesar's things to Caesar," which tips many 
 a pen with gall, and shadows noble pictures with unseemly clouds. 
 Electra was indignant at the injustice meted out to her, and, as 
 might have been expected, rebelled against the verdict. Very 
 little consolation was derived from the argument by which her 
 master strove to mollify her — that the incredulity of the critics 
 was the highest eulogy that could have been pronounced upon 
 her work. Some weeks after the close of the exhibition, the 
 (Enone was purchased and the portrait sent home. Electra 
 placed it on the easel once more, and stood before it in rapt con- 
 
ALTAES OF SACRIFICE. 14 
 
 Q 
 
 teniplation. Down from the arched roof flowed billows of lii^lit, 
 bathing her rounded form as in a sea of molten topaz, and kin- 
 dling a startling, almost unearthly, beauty in the canvas. What 
 mattered the brevity and paucity of Russell's letters now ? — 
 what though three thousand miles of tempestuous sea roared and 
 tossed between them ? — she had his untarnished ima^-e in her 
 lieart, his life-like features ever before her. To this shrine she 
 came continually, and laid thereon the oiferhig of a love passion- 
 ate and worshiping as ever took entire possession of a woman's 
 heart. Coldness, silence, neglect, all were forgotten when she 
 looked into the deep, beautiful eyes, and upon the broad, bold, 
 matchless brow. 
 
 *'.... Love is not love 
 
 "\Miich alters, when it alteration finds, 
 
 Or bends with the remover to remove ; 
 
 Oh, no J it is an ever fixed mark, 
 
 That looks on tempests and is never shaken.'' 
 
 She had not the faintest hope that he would ever cherish a 
 tenderer feeling for her ; but love is a plant of strange growth ; 
 now lifting its head feebly in rich, sunny spots, where every fos- 
 tering influence is employed ; and now springing vigorous from 
 barren, rocky clifl"s, clinging in icy crevises, defying every adverse 
 element, sending its fibrous roots deeper and deeper in unconge- 
 nial soil ; bending before the fierce breath of storms, only to 
 erect itself more firmly ; spreading its delicate petals over the 
 edges of eternal snow, self-sustaining, invincible, immortal. A 
 curious plant, truly, and one which will not bear transplanting, 
 as many a luckless experiment has proved. To-day, as Electra 
 looked upon her labors, the coils of Time seemed to fall away ; 
 the vista of Eternity opened before her, peopled with two forms, 
 which on earth walked widely separate paths, and over her fea- 
 tures stole a serene, lifted expression, as if, after painful scaling, 
 she had risen above the cloud-region and caught the first rays of 
 perpetual sunshine. 
 
 Time, like a weaver, made strange, dim, confused masses of 
 woof and warp ; but in Eternity the earth-work would l)e turn- 
 ed, and delicate tracery and marvellous coloring, divine bjbelins, 
 
144: MACARIA ; OR, 
 
 would come to light. Patience ! Away from the loom — let the 
 shuttle fly I " V/hat I do thou knowest not now, but thou 
 shalt know hereafter." Hence to the barren fields, and till 
 them until the harvest. 
 
 Mr. Clifton had watched her for some moments, with lower- 
 ing brow and jealous hatred of the picture. Approaching, he 
 looked over her shoulder, and asked : 
 
 " How much longer do you intend to stand here ? Pygma- 
 lion was not more captivated by his ivory image than you are by 
 your head. Were it Antinous or Apollo, I doubt whether your 
 admiration would be enhanced." 
 
 " It is more than Antinous and Apollo," she answered, draw- 
 ing the folds of silk over the portrait and turning toward him. 
 
 " Child, you are an idolatress." 
 
 " Perhaps so ; but, at least, I am in a goodly company. Many 
 bow down before the shrine of their own handiwork ; some 
 bring libations to Mammon, some to Fame, some to Ambition, 
 some to Love. Nature intended us to kneel, which is preferable 
 to standing, statue-like, exacting obeisance from others. Which 
 is nobler ? But how am I an idolatress ? Shall I not prize the 
 features of my cousin, my earliest friend and playmate ? Would 
 you have me tear off and cast away the kindly emotions, the 
 warm affections wherewith God clothed me, as badges of hu- 
 manity ?" 
 
 "By no means. But would you have a second Ixion's 
 wheel ?" 
 
 " Aye, sir, when I am weak enough to worship a cloud. Mr. 
 Clifton, I believe I have shaken hands with my rosy-cheeked, 
 sunny-eyed, siren charmed childhood ; and, to-day, standing here 
 a woman, with few ties to bind me to my fellow-creatures, I hold 
 this one jewelled link of the past in the hollow of my hand, and 
 pet it. Why not ? Oh, why not ? I am but seventeen ; this 
 is all that I have left to caress, and soon the waves of coming 
 years will wash this, too, through my fingers. Would you, less 
 merciful than Time, snatch it from me prematurely ?" 
 
 " I would, that in exchange I might heap your hands with un- 
 told treasure and jo v." 
 
ALTAKS OF SACRIFIUE. 14:5 
 
 " I think I am less grasping, tlien, than you. Leave me the 
 little I value ; I ask uo more, wish no more, will have no more." 
 
 She woukl have left him, but his hand fell heavily on hers. 
 
 " Electra, I mui^t speak to you ; hear me. You hug a phan- 
 tom to your heart ; Russell does not and will not love you, other 
 than as his oousin." 
 
 The blood deserted her face, leaving a grayish pallor, but the 
 eyes sought his steadily, and the rippling voice lost none of its 
 rich cadence. 
 
 " Except as his cousin, I do not expect Russell to love me." 
 
 " Oh, child ! you deceive yourself ; this is a hope that you 
 cling to with mad tenacity." 
 
 She wrung her hand from his, and drew her figure to its ut- 
 most height. 
 
 " You transcend your privilege, sir ! when you attempt to ca- 
 techise me thus. I deny the right of any one on earth to put 
 such questions to me — to make such assertions." 
 
 " Electra, I did not mean to offend you, but the time has come 
 when we must understand each other " 
 
 " You did not mean to offend me— well, let that pass ; an- 
 other day we will discuss it, if you please," she interrupted, wav- 
 ing him off and turning toward the door. 
 
 "Xo ; you must hear me now. I have a right to question 
 you— the right of my long, silent, faithful love. You may deny 
 it, but that matters little ; be still, and listen. Did you suppose 
 that I was simply a generous man, when I offered to guard and 
 aid you— when I took you to my house, placed you in my mo- 
 ther's care, and lavished affection upon you ? Did you dream 
 that I was disinterested in what I have done to encourage and 
 assist you? Did you imagine I was merely an amiable philan- 
 tliropist, anxious to help all in difficulty and sorrow ? If so, put 
 away the hallucination. Consider me uo longer your friend • 
 look at me as I am, a jealous and selfishly exacting man, who 
 stands before you to-day and tells you he loves you. Oh, Elec- 
 tra ! From the morning when you first showed me your sketches, 
 you have been more than my life to me. An unconquerable love 
 sprang up then, and it has grown with the months and years, 
 
 7 
 
146 MACARIA ; OH, 
 
 taking sole possession of a heart which never bowed before any 
 other woman. Every hope I have centred in yon. I have not 
 deceived myself ; I knew that you loved Russell. Xay, don't 
 deny it ; I have watched yon too long not to probe your mask. 
 I knew that he had your girlish love, but I waited, and hoped 
 my devotion would win you. You were but a child, and I 
 thought the depth and fervor of my affection would out-weigh a 
 childish fancy. When he came here, I saw that the old fascina- 
 tion still kept its hold upon you, but I saw, too, what you saw 
 quite as plainly — that in Russell Aubrey's heart there is room 
 for nothing but ambition. I knew how you suffered, and I be- 
 lieved it was the death-struggle of your love. But, instead, I 
 find you, day by day, before that easel — oblivious of me, of 
 everything but the features you cling to so insanely. Do you 
 wonder that I hate that portrait ? Do you wonder that I am 
 growing desperate ? Where is your womanly pride, that you 
 lavish your love on one totally indifferent to you ? Strange 
 paradox that you are ! — proud, passionate, exacting, and yet 
 clinging madly to a memory. Have you no mercy, that you 
 doom me to live for ever on the rack ? Shall yonder piece of 
 canvas always stand between your heart and mine ? If beloved 
 you in return, I could bear it better ; but as it is, I am tortured 
 beyond all endurance. I have spent nearly three years in trying 
 to gain your heart ; all other aims have faded before this one 
 absorbing love. To-day I lay it at your feet, and ask if I have 
 not earned some reward. Oh, Electra ! have you no grati- 
 tude ?" 
 
 A scarlet spot burned on his pale cheeks, and the mild liquid 
 gray eyes sparkled hke stars. 
 
 It was no startling revelation to her ; long before she had seen 
 that this hour of trial must come to both, and now, despite her 
 resolution, his words unnerved her. She dared not look at him . 
 the hollow voice told her too well what effect this excitement 
 was working on his feeble frame. 
 
 *' Oh, Mr. Clifton ! I am grateful ; God, who sees my heart, 
 knows that I am. No child ever loved a parent better than I 
 love you," 
 
ALTAIIS OF SACRTFICK. 147 
 
 "It is not filijil afiVc'tion that I ask of yon, now. I beg you 
 to lay your dear haud^ in mine, and promise to be my wife. I 
 ask this of you in the name of my devotion. You gave yourself 
 to me years ago, and to-day I beseech you to seal the compact 
 by a final promise. Electra, beware how you answer 1 Bridge 
 the gulf between us. Give rac your hand." 
 
 He vStrctched out his hand, but she drew back a step. 
 
 " God forgive me I but I have no such love for you." 
 
 A ghastly smile broke over his face, and, after a moment, the 
 snowy handkerchief he passed across his lips was stained with 
 ruby streaks. 
 
 "I know that, and I know the reason. But, once more, I 
 ask you to give me your hand. Electra, dearest, do not, I pray 
 you, refuse me this. Oh, child ! give me your hand, and in time 
 you will learn to love me." 
 
 He seized her fingers, and stooped his head till the silky brown 
 beard mingled with her raven locks. 
 
 " Mr. Clifton, to marry without love would be a grievous sin ; 
 I dare not. We would hate each other. Life would be a curse 
 to both, and death a welcome release. Could you endure a wife 
 who accepted your hand from gratitude and pity ? Oh I such 
 a relationship would be horrible beyond all degree. I shudder 
 at the thought.'' 
 
 " But you would learn to love me." 
 
 The summer wind shook the window-curtains and rustled the 
 folds of black silk till the drapery slid from the portrait and left 
 it fully exposed to view. She gave one quick glance at the be- 
 loved countenance, and, falling on her knees before the easel, 
 raised her clasped hands passionately, and exclaim<^d : 
 
 " Impossible ! impossible ! You have said that be is my idol, 
 and you make no mistake. He fills my heart so entirely, that I 
 have nothing but reverence and gratitude to offer you. I am 
 young, I know, and you think that this is a girlish fancy, which 
 will fade with coming years. I tell you, sir, this love has be- 
 come part of me. Wlien he went to Europe I said, ' I will tear 
 it out of my heart, and forget him ; I will give every thought to 
 my noble art.' Faithfully I strove to do so ; but a Uttle moun- 
 
148 macaria; oe, 
 
 tc'iiii stream, once merged in the pathless ocean, might as well 
 struggle to gather back its thiy wavelets and return to its peb- 
 ^ bly. cliannel. I am proud ; it humiliates me to acknowledge all 
 this ; and notliing on earth could wring it from me but my de- 
 sire to convince you that it is utterly impossible I can ever love 
 you, as you ask. 
 
 " I lift my heavy heart up solemnly. 
 As once Electra her sepulchral urn, 
 And, looking in thine eyes, I overturn 
 The ashes at thy feet. Behold and see 
 "What a great heap of grief lay hid in me, 
 And how the red wild sparkles dimly burn 
 Through the ashen grayness. If thy foot in scorn 
 Could tread them out in darkness utterly. 
 It might be well, perhaps.'' 
 
 *' But you can not take Russell's place. None can como 
 between him and my heart." 
 
 The yellow light dripped down on her purplish hair, crystal- 
 izing into a nimbus, as she knelt before the portrait, lifting her 
 bands, like saints in medieval pictures, fleeing from martyrdom. 
 Shame dyed her cheeks, but a desperate, reckless triumph flash- 
 ed in the upraised e\'es, revealing fully the aversion which his 
 suit had inspired. Unfortunate, deplorable as was her love for 
 a cousin, it seemed for the moment to glorify her, and Mr. 
 Clifton put his hand over his eyes to shut out the vision. 
 
 " Electra Grey, you are unwomanly in your unsought love." 
 
 " Unwomanly ! If so, made such by your unmanliness. 
 Unwomanly ! I deny it. Which is most unwojnanly — to yield 
 to the merciless importunity of one to whom I am indebted ; 
 to give my hand to one whose touch chills the blood in my 
 veins ; to promise to become his wife, when the bare thought 
 sickens my soul; to dare to stand before God's altar and take 
 false vows on my lips, or tell the tiuth ? to shield myself from 
 his entreaties, under the holy mantle of a deep, undying love 
 for another ? I volunteered no confession ; you taxed and 
 taunted me with my affection. Sir, it should have made me 
 sacred in your eyes. Unwomanly ! Were you moie manly, I 
 had never shocked your maudlin sentiments of propriety." 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 149 
 
 " And tliis; is my leward for nil the tendnrncss Iliave lavished 
 on yon. When I stooped to beg your hand, to be repnl!«ed 
 with scorn and loathing. To spend three years in faithful effort 
 to win your heart, and reap contempt, hatred." 
 
 Stairijering back, he sank into his arm-chair and closed his 
 eyes a moment, then continued : 
 
 " K it were possible that you conld be happy, I would not 
 complain ; but there is no hope of that. You might as well 
 kneel to my marble Hermes yonder, as to Russell. Stranger 
 infatuation never possessed a woman." 
 
 " I am not blind ; I neither ask or expect anything from him. 
 Unless you betray my confidence he will never suspect the truth, 
 and I would sooner endure the tortures of Torquemada than that 
 he should know it. I^nt by what process will you demonstrate 
 that, since a r;ire and royal banquet is forever shut beyond my 
 reach, it is my duty to sit down in the dust and try to content 
 myself with lni>ks ? Sir, my God never intended me to live on 
 crumbs, and I will not. I will be true to my heart ; if the vast 
 host of my fellow-creatures should pass away from earth, I will 
 stand alone, and conquer solitude as best I may. Not ' one jot, 
 not one tittle' of my nature will I yield for companionship. No 
 mess of pottage will I have in lieu of my birthright. All, or 
 none ! Marriage is holy ; God, in His wisdom, instituted it 
 with the seal of love ; but its desecration with counterfeits 
 makes Tophets, Golgothas, instead of Edens. I know what I 
 liave to expect ; on my own head be the future. If quarrel 
 there be, it is between fate and me ; you have no concern in it." 
 
 " I would not have troubled you long, Electra. It was be- 
 cause I knew that my life must be short at best, that I urged 
 you to gild the brief period with the light of your love. I 
 would not have bound you always to me ; and when I asked 
 your hand a few minutes since, I knew that death would soon 
 sever the tic and set you free. Let this suffice to palliate my 
 ' unmanly' pleading. I have but one request to make of you 
 now, and, weak as it may seem, I beg of you not to deny me. 
 You are preparing to leave my house ; this I know ) I see it in 
 your face, and the thought is harrowing to me. E'ectra, remain 
 
150 MACAEIA ; OR, 
 
 under my roof while I live ; let me see yon every day, here, iu 
 my house. If not as my wife, stay as my friend, my pupil, my 
 child. I little tliought I could ever condescend to ask this of any . 
 one ; but the dread of separation bows me down. Oh, child ! 
 I will not claim vou long:." 
 
 She stood up before him with the portrait in her arms, 
 resolved then and there, to leave him for ever. But the ghastly 
 pallor of his face, the scarlet thread oozing over his lips and 
 saturating the handkerchief with which he strove to staunch it, 
 told her that the request was preferied on no idle pretext. In 
 swift review, his kindness, generosity, and unwavering affection 
 passed before her, and the mingled accents of remorse and com- 
 passion whispered : " Pay your debt of gratitude by sacrificing 
 your heart. If you can make liiui happy, you owe it to 
 him." 
 
 Without a word she passed him and went up to her own room. 
 It was an hour of sore temptation for one so young and inex- 
 perienced, but placing the portrait on tlie low mantle, she crossed 
 her arms before it, and tried to lay matters m the scale. On one 
 side, years of devotion, the circumstances of the artist's life, his 
 mother's infiruiity, confining her sometimes to her bed, often to 
 her room, preventing her from nursing him ; the weary season 
 of his tedious illness, the last hours gloomy and miserable, un- 
 soothed by gentle words or tender offices. On the other, stern 
 adherence, unerring obedience to the dictates of her heart, the 
 necessary self-abnegation, the patient attendance at the couch 
 of prolonged suffering, and entire devotion to him. For a time 
 the scales balanced; she couM not conquer her repugnance to 
 remaining in his home ; then a grave and its monumental stone 
 were added, and, with a groan, she dropped her face in her 
 hands. x\t the expiration of two hours she locked the portrait 
 from view, and went back to the studio. The house was very 
 quiet; the ticking of the clock was distinctly heard as she 
 pushed the door open and glided in. Involuntarily she drew a 
 long, deep breath, for it-was like leaving freedom at the thres- 
 liold, and taking upon herself giievous bonds. The arm-chair 
 was vacant, but tlie artist lay on one of the sofas, with his face 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 151 
 
 towanl the wall, and on a small table beside bim stood a 
 crystal bowl of cracked ice, a stained wine-glass, and a vial 
 coiitainintr some dark purple liqiu<l. Approaching softly, she 
 scanned the countenance, and tears gathered in her eyes as she 
 saw how thin and hollow were the now flushed cheeks ; how 
 the lips writhed now and then, as if striving to suppress bitter 
 words. The beautiful brown hair was all tossed back, and she. 
 noticed that along the forehead clustered many silver threads. 
 One hand was thrust within his vest, the other thrown up over the 
 head, grasping a fresh handkerchief. Softly she took this hand, 
 and, bending over him, said in a low, thrilling tone : 
 
 " Mr. Clifton, I was passionate and hasty, and said some unkind 
 things which I would fain recall, and for which I beg your par- 
 don. I thank you for the honor you would have conferred on 
 me, and for the unmerited love you offered me. Unless it were 
 in my power to return that love, it would be sinful to give you 
 my hand ; but, sinoe you desire it so earnestly, I will promise to 
 stay by your side, to do what I can to make you happy ; to prove 
 by my devotion that I am not insensible to all your kindness, that 
 I am very grateful for the affection you have given me. I come 
 and offer you this, as a poor return for all that I owe you ; it is 
 the most my conscience will permit me to tender. My friend, 
 my master, will you accept it, and forgive the pain and sorrow I 
 have caused you ?" 
 
 He felt her tears falling on his lingers, and, for a moment, 
 neither spoke ; then he drew the hands to his lips and kissed 
 them tenderly, 
 
 " Thank you, Electra. I know it is a sacrifice on your part, 
 but I am selfish enough to accept it. Heaven bless you, my 
 pupil." 
 
 '* In future we will not allude to this day of trial— let it be 
 forgotten ; * let the dead past bury its dead.' I will have no 
 resurrected phantoms. And now, sir, you must not allow this 
 slight hemorrhage t(^ depress you. In a few days you will be 
 stronger, quite able to examine and find fault with my work. 
 Shall I send a note to Dr. LeRoy, asking him to call and see 
 you this evening ?" 
 
152 MACARIA : OPv, 
 
 " He has just left me. Say nothing of the hemorrhage to 
 mother ; it would only distress her." 
 
 He released her hands, and, stooping over his pillow, she smooth- 
 ed the disordered hair, and for the first time pressed her lips to 
 his forehead. 
 
 Thus she bowed her neck to the yoke, and, with a fixed, un- 
 alterable will, entered on the long dreary ministry to which she 
 felt that duty called. 
 
 We shade our eyes, and peer into the dim unknown, striving 
 to see whither we are tending, and a sudden turn in the waj'-, a 
 sharp angle, brings us face to face with huge, frowning obsta- 
 cles, that grimly bar all progress in the direction to which our 
 inclinations point. Strange devious paths stretched out at our 
 feet, baffling all our wise conjectures, setting at defiance all our 
 plans .and prudential machinations. From breath to breath, 
 from step to step, from hour to hour, is man's sole empire. 
 "Boast not thvself of to-morrow." 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 " Cities give not the human senses room enough," says a lat- 
 ter-day seer, and Electra Grey sometimes felt that her heart and 
 soul were in the stocks, or ironed down to a stake, leaving only 
 a perijjhery of a few feet. Brick walls and paving-stones uttered 
 no kindly message ; hurrying foot-passengers and crowded omni- 
 buses told of the din and strife of life, but whispered no word of 
 cheer, no lesson of uncomplaining fortitude, no exhortation to be 
 strong and patient. She saw colossal selfishness crushing rdong 
 its Juggernautic way ; wealth jostled poverty into the gutter, and 
 beauty picked a dainty crossing ig give a wide berth to defor- 
 mity ; hard, stern, granite-like faces passed her window day by 
 day ; princely equipages, with haughty, supercilious occupants, 
 rolled along the street, and bridal trains and funeral proces- 
 sions mingled in their windings. If man be, indeed, a " micro 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 153 
 
 cosm," to wliat shall I liken that p:roat city wherein dwelt the 
 painter and his pupil ? Isis, the i^reat nursing-mother — genial 
 Nature, teeming with soothing influences, and missals of joy and 
 strength, seemed sepulchred — and in her place a flint-featured, 
 miserly, and most intolerable step-mother, frowned upon the 
 luckless young artist. City life ! City starvation, rather she 
 found it, until a long and painful apprenticeship taught her the 
 priceless alchemy whereby smiling Plenty beamed upon her. 
 Reared on the outskirts of a country town, she longed for the 
 freedom and solitude of the oUl pine-woods at home, and sickened 
 at the thought of spending her life within the walls of brick and 
 mortar. She had selected an attic room, with dormer windows 
 looking eastward, and here she daily watched the pale gray 
 dawn struggle with the vapors and shadows of night. " Quiet 
 fields of crimson cirri," fleecy masses of restless, glittering cu- 
 muli, or the sweep and rush of " inky-fringed" lowering rain- 
 clouds, alike charmed her. Long before the servants stirred below 
 she was seated at the window, noting the waning shimmer of 
 the Morning-Star as the waves of light rolled up and crested the 
 horizon, whitening the deep blue with their sparkling spray. 
 The peculiarities of each sunrise and sunset were jotted dowu 
 assiduously : 
 
 " Cloud-walls of the morning's grey 
 Faced with amber column, 
 Crowned with crimson cupola 
 From a sunset solemn," 
 
 were stretched with great care, and put aside for future use ; and 
 it rarely happened that, on a dull, rainy morning, she came down 
 to breakfast looking other than moody and disappointed, as 
 though her rights had been infringed, her privileges curtailed. 
 Constituted with keen susceptibility to impressions of beauty or 
 sublimity, whether physical, moral, or intellectual, Nature intend- 
 ed her as a thing for sunshine and holidays, as a darling to be 
 j)etted ; but Fate shook her head, and, with a grimace, set the 
 tender young soul on a bleak exposure, to be hardened and in- 
 vigorated. 
 
 With the characteristic fitfulness of consumption, Mr. Clifton 
 
 1* 
 
154 MACARTA ; OR 
 
 rallied, and, for a time, seemed almost restored ; but at the ap- 
 pro,' ch of wiuter the cough increased, and dangerous symptoms 
 returned. Several months after the rejection of his suit, to 
 wliicli no allusion had ever been made, Electra sat before her 
 easel, absorbed in work, while the master slowly walked up and 
 down the studio, wrapped in a warm plaid shawl. Occasionally 
 he paused and looked over her shoulder, then resumed his pace, 
 offering no comment. It was not an unusual occurrence for them 
 to pass entire mornings together without exchanging a word, and 
 to-day the silence had lasted more than an hour. A prolonged 
 fit of coughing finally arrested her attention, and, glancmg up, 
 she met his sad gaze. 
 
 " This is unpropitious weather for you, Mr. Clifton." 
 
 " Yes, this winter offers a dreary prospect." 
 
 " There is the Doctor now, passing the window. I will come 
 back as soon as his visit is over." She rose hastily to quit the 
 room, but he detained her. 
 
 ** Do not go— I wish you to remain, and finish your work." 
 
 Dr. Le Roy entered, and, after questioning bis patient, stood, 
 on the rug, warming his fingers. 
 
 " The fact is, my dear fellow, this is not the place for you. I 
 sent you south four years ago nearly, and saved your fife ; and, 
 as I told you last week, you will have to take that same pre- 
 scription again. It is folly to talk of spending the winter here. 
 I can do nothing for you. You must go to Cuba, or to Italy. 
 It is of no us^ to try to deceive you, Harry ; you know, just as 
 well as I do, that your case is getting desperate, and change of 
 climate is your last hope. I have told you all this before." 
 
 Electra laid down her pallette, and listened for the answer. 
 
 " I am sorry you think so, but I can't leave New York." 
 
 " Why not ?" 
 
 " For various good reasons." 
 
 " My dear fellow, is your life of any value ?" 
 
 " A strange question, truly." 
 
 " If it is, quit Xew York in thirty-six hours ; if not, remain, 
 * for various good reasons.' Send to* my ofiice for an anodyne. 
 Better lake mv advice. Good-da v." 
 
ALTARS OK SACRIFICE. 155 
 
 Passing: by the easel, he whispere<l : 
 
 " Use your influence ; scud him south." And then the two 
 were again alone. 
 
 Resting her cliin in her hands she raised .her eyes, and said : 
 
 "Why do you not follow the Doctor's advice? A winter 
 south might restore you." 
 
 He drew uear, and, leaning his folded arms on the top of the 
 easel, looked down into her face. 
 
 " There is only one condition upon which I could consent to 
 go ; that is in your hands. Will you accompany me ?" 
 
 She understood it all in an instant, saw the new form in which 
 the trial presented itself, and her soul sickened. 
 
 " Mr. Clifton, if I were your sister, or your child, I would 
 gladly go ; but, as your pupil, I can not." 
 
 " As Electra Grey, certainly not ; but, as Electra Clifton, 
 you could go." 
 
 " Electra Grey will be carved on my tombstone." 
 
 " Then you decide my fate. I remain, and wait -the slow ap- 
 proach of death." 
 
 *' No, before just Heaven ! I take no such responsibility, nor 
 shall you thrust it on me. You are a man, and must decide 
 your destiny for yourself ; I am a poor girl, having no claim upou, 
 no power over you. It is your duty to preserve the hfe which 
 God gave you, in the way prescribed by your physician, and I 
 have no voice in the matter. It is your duty to go south, and 
 it will be both weak and wicked to remain here under existing 
 circumstances." 
 
 " My life is centred in you ; it is worthless, nay, a burden, 
 separated from you." 
 
 " Your life should be centred in something nobler, better ; in 
 your duty, in your profession. It is suicidal to fold your hands 
 listlessly, and look to me, as you do." 
 
 " All these things have I tried, and I am weary of their hol- 
 lowness, weary of life, and the world. So long as I have your 
 face here, I care not to cross my own threshold till friendly hands 
 bear me out to my quiet resting-place under the willows of 
 Greenwood. Electra, my darling, think me weak if you will, 
 
156 MAC ARIA ; OR, 
 
 but hear witli mo a little while longer, and then this, my shadow, 
 sl>«ll flit from your young heart, leaving not even a memory to 
 haunt you. Be patient \ I will soon pass away, to another, a 
 more peaceful, bles.sed sphere." 
 
 A melancholy smile lighted his fair waxen features, as waning, 
 sickly sunshine in an autumn evening, flickers over sculptured 
 marble in a silent church-yard. 
 
 How she compassioned his great weakness, as he wiped away 
 tlie moisture which, even on that cold day, glistened on his fore- 
 head. 
 
 " Oh I I beseech you to go to Cuba. Go, and get strong 
 once more." 
 
 " Nothing will ever help me now. Sunny skies and soft 
 breezes bring no healing for me. I want to die here, in my 
 home, where your hands will be about me ; not among strangers, 
 in Cuba or Italv." 
 
 He turned to the fire, and, springing up, she left the room. 
 The solemn silence of the house oppressed her ; she put on her 
 thickest wrappings, and took the street leading to the nearest 
 park. A steel-gray sky, with slowly-trailing clouds, looked down 
 on her, and the keen, chilly wind wafted a fine snow-powder in 
 her face as she pressed against it. The trees were bare, and the 
 sere grass grew hoary as the first snow-flakes of the season came 
 down softly and shroud-like. The walks were deserted, save 
 where a hurrying form crossed from street to street, homeward- 
 bound ; and Elect ra passed slowly along, absorbed in thoughts 
 colder than the frostiuo,- that irathered on shawl and bonnet. The 
 face and figure of the painter glided spectrally before her at 
 every step, and a mighty temptation followed at its heels. Why 
 not strangle her heart ? Why not marry him and bear his 
 name, if, thereby, she could make his few remaining months of 
 existence happy, and, by accompanying him south, prolong his 
 life even for a few weeks ? She shuddered at the suggestion, it 
 would be such a miserable lot. But then the question arose : 
 " Who told you that your life was given for happiness ? Do you 
 imagine your Maker set you on earth solely to hunt your own 
 enjoyment ? Suppose duty costs you pain and struggles ; is it 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 157 
 
 any tlie loss duty? Nay, is it not all the more urf^ont duty?" 
 Slie knew that she could return to the artist, and, with one brief 
 Bentence, pour the chrism of joy over his suffering soul ; aud her 
 great compassion, mild-eyed, soft-lipped, tender-hearted, whisper- 
 ed : Why not ? why not ? 
 
 " Nature owns no man who is not a martyr withal." If this 
 dictum possessed any value, did it not point to her mission ? She 
 could no longer shut her eyes and stumble on, for right in her 
 path stood an awful form, with austere lip and fiery eye, demand- 
 ing a parley, defying all escape ; and calmly, she stood face to 
 face with her Sphinx, considering her riddle. A young, mother- 
 less girl, without the girding of a holy rehgion, a free, untamed 
 soul, yielding allegiance to no creed, hearkening only to the dic- 
 tates of her tempestuous nature, now confronting the most an- 
 cient immemorial Destroyer who haunts the highways of society. 
 Self-immolation, or a poisoning of the spring of joy in the heart 
 of a fellow-creature ? Was duty a Moloch, clasping its scorch- 
 ing arms around its devotees ? — a Juggernaut, indeed, whose iron 
 wheels drank the life-blood of its victims ? " Will you see your 
 benefactor sink swiftly into an early grave, and, standing by with 
 folded arms, persuade yourself that it is not your duty to attempt 
 to save him, at all hazards ? Can nothing less than love ever sanc- 
 tion marriage ?" Such was the riddle hurlecl before her, and, as 
 she pondered, the floodgates of her sorrow and jealousy were once 
 more lifted — the rush and roar of bitter waters drowned, for a 
 time, the accents of conscience and of reason. 
 
 But out of these fierce asphaltic waves arose. Aphrodite-like, 
 a pure, radiant, heavenly form — a child of all climes, conditions, 
 and ages — an immortal evangel ; and, as the piercing, sunny 
 eyes of womanly intuition looked upon the riddle, the stony linea- 
 ments of the Sphinx melted into air. If womanly eyes rest on 
 this page the answer need not be traced here, for in every true 
 woman's heart the answer is to be found engraved in God's own 
 characters ; and, however the rubbish of ignoble motives may 
 accumulate, it can never obliterate the divine handwriting. In 
 the holiest oratory of her nature is enshrined an infallible talis- 
 man, an a^gis, and she requires no other panoply in the long 
 
158 MACARIA ; OR, 
 
 struggle incident to trials such as shook the stormy soul of the 
 young artist. Faster fell the snow-flakes, cresting tiie waves of 
 her hair like foam, and, setting her teeth firmly, as if thereby 
 locking the door against all compassionating compunctions, Elec- 
 tra left the park and turned into a cross-street, on which was sit- 
 uated an establishment where bouquets were kept for sale. The 
 assortment was meagre at that late hour, but she selected a tiny 
 bunch of delicate, fragrant, hot-house blossoms, and, shielding 
 them with her shawl, hastened home. The studio was brilliant 
 with gas-glare and warm with the breath of anthracite, but an 
 aspect of dreariness, silence, and sorrow predominated. The fig- 
 ures in the pictures shrank back in their frames, the statues gleam- 
 ed mournfully white and cold, and the emaciated form and face 
 of the painter, thrown into bold relief by the dark green lining 
 of the easy chair, seemed to belong to realms of death ratlier 
 than life. On the edge of the low scroll-sculptured mantle, sup- 
 ported at each corner by caryatides, perched a large tame gray 
 owl, with clipped wings folded, and wide, solemn, oracular eyes 
 fastened on the countenance of its beloved master. A bronze 
 clock, of exqui-ite workmanship, occupied the centre, and repre- 
 sented the Angel of Revelations, " swearing by Hint that llveth 
 for ever and ever, that Time should be no longer.''^ One hand 
 held the open book, the other a hammer, which gave out the 
 hours with clear metallic ring ; and along the base, just under- 
 neath the silver dial-plate, were carved, in German characters, 
 the words of Richter : " And an immeasurably extended ham- 
 mer was to strike the last hour of Time, and shiver the universe 
 asunder." 
 
 With swift, noiseless steps Electra came to the red grate, and, 
 after a moment, drew an ottoman close to the easy chair. Per- 
 haps its occupant slept ; perchance he wandered, with closed 
 eyes, far down among the sombre, dank crypts of memory. She 
 laid her cool fingers on his hand, and held the bouquet before 
 him. 
 
 " My dear sir, here are your flowers ; they are not as pretty 
 as usual, but sweet enough to atone for lack of beauty." 
 
 He fingered them caressingly, laid them against his hollow 
 
ALTARS OF SACKIFICP:. 159 
 
 cheeks, and Iiid his lips among thdr fragrant petals, bnt the star- 
 ry eyes were fixed on the features of the pupil. 
 
 " It is bitter weather out ; did you brave it for these ? Thank 
 you, but don't expose yourself so in future. Two invalids in a 
 house are quite enough. You are snow-crowned, little one ; do 
 you know it ? The frosting gleams right royally on that black 
 hair of yours, ^"ay, child, don't brush it off ; like all lovely 
 things it fades rapidly, melts away like the dreams that flutter 
 around a boy in the witchery of a long, still, sunny summer 
 day." 
 
 His thin hand nestled in her shining hair, and she submitted 
 to the touch in silence. 
 
 " My dove soared away fi-om this dreary ark, and bathed her 
 silver wings in the free air of Heaven ; returning but to bring 
 me some grateful memorial, an olive-branch, wherewith to deck 
 this gloomy ark of mine. Xext time she will soar farther, and 
 find a more tempting perch, and gladden Noah's eyes no more." 
 
 " If so, it will be because the high and dry land of God beck- 
 ons her ; and when the deluge is ended, she will be needed no 
 longer." 
 
 " For, then, Electra, Xoah's haven of rest will be the fair still 
 fields of Eternity." 
 
 In this semi-metaphoric strain he often indulged of late, but 
 she felt little inclination to humor the whim, and, interlacing her 
 slight fingers, she answered, half impatiently : 
 
 " Your simile is all awry, sir. Most unfortunately, I have no- 
 thing dove-like in my nature." 
 
 *' Originally you had, but your character has been warped." 
 
 " By what, or whom ?" 
 
 " Primarily, by unhappy extraneous circumstances, influences 
 if you will, which contributed to a diseased development of two 
 passions, that now preponderate over all other elements of your 
 character." 
 
 " A diagnosis which I will not accept." 
 
 " A true one, nevertheless, my child." 
 
 *' Possibly ; but we will waive a discussion just now. I am, 
 and always intend to be, true to the nature which God gave me." 
 
160 MAC ARIA ; OR, 
 
 " A dangerous dogma that. Ek-ctra, how do you knovr tliat 
 the ' nature ' you fondle and plume yourself upon, emanated from 
 your Maker ?" 
 
 "How do you know, sh', that God intended that willows 
 should droop, and trail their slender boughs earthward, while 
 poplars, like granite-shafts, shoot up, lifting their silver-shimmer- 
 ing leaflets ever to the clouds ? Who fingered their germs, and 
 directed their course ?" 
 
 " The analogy will not hold between the vegetable kingdom 
 and the moral and intellectual spheres. Men and women are 
 not cast in particular moulds, bound by iron laws, and labelled, 
 
 like plants or brutes, Genus , Species . Moreover, to 
 
 man alone was given free agency, even to the extent of uproot- 
 ing, crusliing entirely the original impulses implanted by God in 
 the human heart to act as motive power. I have known people 
 insane enough to i)luck out the wheat, and culture, into rank lux- 
 uriance, the tares in their nature. Child, do you ever look ahead 
 to the coming harvest-time ?" 
 
 " If I do, it contents me to know that each soul binds up its 
 own sheaves." 
 
 " No ; angels are reapers, and make up the account for the 
 Lord of the harvest." 
 
 " I don't believe that. Xo third party has any voice in that 
 last, loug-reckouing. God and the creature only see the balance 
 sheet." 
 
 She rose, and leaning against the mantel, put out her hand to 
 caress the solemn-eyed solitary pet of the studio. How he came 
 to be the solace and companion of the artist she had never been 
 told, but knew that a strange fellowship hnked the gray old fa- 
 vorite with the master, and wondered at the almost human 
 expression with which it sometimes looked from its lofty pedestal 
 upon the languid movements of the painter. " Munin" was the 
 name he ever recognized and answered to, and, when she one day 
 repeated it to herself, puzzling over its significance, 'Sir. Clifton 
 told her that it meant '' memory," in Scandinavian lore, and be- 
 longed to one of the favorite birds of Odin. It was one of his 
 many strange whims, fostered by life-long researches among the 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. IGl 
 
 mythologies of the Old World : and Electra struggled to over- 
 come th(i undefinable sensation of awe. and repulsion which crept 
 over her whenever she met that fascinating stare fixed upon her. 
 As little love had the bird for her, and, though occasionally it 
 settled upon the cross-beam of her easel, and watched the slow 
 motion of her brush, they seemed to shrink from each other. 
 Now, as her soft hand touched his feathers, they rumpled, bristled, 
 and he flitted to the artist's knee, uttering a hoarse, prolonged, 
 most melancholy note, as the master caressed him. 
 
 " Wliy are not you and Munin better friends ?" 
 
 " Because I am not wise enough, or evil-boding in appearance, 
 or snfBciently owlish to suit him, I suppose. He chills my blood 
 sometimes, when I come here, in twilight, before the gas is lighted. 
 I would almost as soon confront Medusa.-' 
 
 She took from the curious oval mosaic table a new book contain- 
 ing her mark, and reseated herself. As she did so, Munin flapped 
 his dusky wings and disappeared through the door opening into 
 the hall, and, shading her face with one hand, she read aloud a 
 passage heavily underlined by a pencil. 
 
 " But this poor, miserable Me ! Is this, then, all the book I 
 have got to read about God in ? Yes, truly so. No other 
 book, nor fragment of book, than that will you ever find — no 
 velvet-bound missal, nor fraukincensed manuscript ; nothing 
 hieroglyphic nor cuneiform ; papyrus and pyramid are alike silent 
 on this matter ; nothing in the clouds above, nor in the earth 
 beneath. That flesh-bound volume is the only revelation that is, 
 that was, or that can be. In that is the image of God painted ; 
 in that is the law of God written ; in that is the promise of God 
 revealed. Know thyself ; for through thyself only thou canst 
 know God. Through the glass darkly ; but, except through the 
 glass, in no wise. A tremulous crystal, waved as water, poured 
 out upon the ground ; you may defile it, despise it, pollute it at 
 your pleasure, and at your peril ; for on the peace of those weak 
 waves must all Jhe heaven you shall ever gain be first seen, and 
 through such purity as you can win for those dark waves mu>t 
 all the light of the risen Sun of Brightness be bent down by faiut 
 refraction. Cleanse them, and calm them, as you love your life.'* 
 
162 MACARIA ; OR, 
 
 " Mr. Clifton, this epitomizes my creed. There is nothing 
 new in it ; I grant yoii.it is old as the Delphian inscription. 
 Two thousand years ago Socrates preached it in the Agora, at 
 Athens. Xow it shakes off its Greek apparel, and comes to this 
 generation encumbered in loosely-fitting English garments — im- 
 memorial Truth peering through modern masks." 
 
 He regarded her with an expression of sorrowful tenderness, 
 and his hand trembled as he placed it upon her head. 
 
 " Tliis darling creed, this infalUble egotism of yours, will fail 
 you in the day of fierce trial. Pagan that you are, I know not 
 what is to become of you. Oh, Electra I if you would only be 
 warned in time." 
 
 The warmth of the room had vermilioned her cheeks, and the 
 long Ijlack lashes failed to veil in any degree the flash of the eyes 
 she raised to his face. Removing the hand from her head, 
 she took it in both hers, and a cold, dauntless smile wreathed 
 her lips. 
 
 " Be easy on my account. I am not afraid of my future. 
 Why should I be ? God built an arsenal in every soul before 
 he launched it on the stormv sea of Time, and -the kev to mine is 
 Will ! I am young and healthy ; the rich pniple blood bubbles 
 through ray veins like Chiau wine ; and, with my heritage of 
 poverty and obscurity, I look fortune's favorites in the eye, and 
 dare them to retard or crush me. A vast caravan of mighty 
 souls, * Whose distant footsteps echo down the corridors of Time,' 
 have gone before me ; and step by step I tramp after. What 
 waimau has done, woman may do ; a glorious sisterhood of 
 artists beckon me on ; what Elizabeth Cheron, Sibylla Merian^ 
 Angelica KaufFman, Elizabeth Le Brun, Felicie Fauveau, and 
 Rosa Bonheur have achieved, I also wdll accomplish, or die in the 
 effort. These traveled no royal road to immortality, but rugged, 
 thorny paths ; and who shall stay my feet ? Afar off gleams my 
 resting place, but ambition scourges me unflaggingly on. Do 
 not worry about my future; I will take care of it, and of myself." 
 
 " And when, after years of toil, you win fame, even fame 
 enougli to satisfy your large expectations, what then ? Whither 
 »vill you look for happiness ?" 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 163 
 
 ' '* I will grapple fame to my empty heart, as women do other 
 idols." 
 
 " It will freeze you, my dear ehild. Kemember tlie mourn- 
 ful verdict which Dante gave the world through the lips of 
 Oderigi : 
 
 " Cimabue thought 
 
 To lord it over pa#iting's field : and now 
 The cry is (Jiotto's, and his name eclipsed. 
 Thus hath one Gnide from the other snatched 
 The lettered prize : and he, perhaps, is born, ' 
 Who shall drive either from their nest. The noise 
 Of worldly fame is but a blast of wind, 
 That blows from divers points and shifts its name, 
 Shifting the point it blows from." 
 
 " And, Electra, that chill blast will wail through your lonely 
 heart, chanting a requiem over the trampled, dead hopes that 
 might have garlanded your life. Be warned, oh ! dauo-hter of 
 Agamemnon ! '^ 
 
 " The earth hath bubbles as the water hath. 
 And this is of them." 
 
 " At all events, I will risk it. Thank God ! whatever other 
 faults I confess to, there is no taint of cowardice in my soul." 
 
 She rose, and stood a moment on the rug, looking into the red 
 net-work of coals, then turned to leave hini^, saying : 
 
 " I must go to your mother now, and presently I will brino- 
 your tea.'^ ° 
 
 " You need not trouble. I can go to the dining-room to- 
 night." 
 
 " It is no trouble ; it gives me great pleasure to do some 
 thmg for your comfort ; and I know you dlways enjoy your sui> 
 per more when you have it here." 
 
 As she closed the door, lie pressed his face against the moroc- 
 co lining and groaned unconsciously, and large glittering- tear^^ 
 creeping from beneath the trembling lashes, hid themselve^'s in the 
 curling. brown beard. 
 
 To see that .Afrs. Clifton's supper suited her, and then to read 
 aloud to her for half an hour from the worn family Bible, was 
 part of the daily routine which Electra permitted nothing to in- 
 
164 MACARTA ; OR, 
 
 terrupt. On this occasion she found the old lady seated, as 
 nsuaJ, before the fire, her crutches leaning against the chair, and 
 her favorite cat curled on the carpet at her feet. Most tenderly 
 did the aged crip})le love her son's protegee, and the wrinkled, 
 sallow face lighted up with a smile of pleasure at her entrance. 
 
 '' I thought it was about time for you to come to me. Sit 
 down, dear, and touch the bell for Mate. How is Harry ?" 
 
 " Xo stronger, I am afraid. You know this is very bad wea- 
 ther for him." 
 
 " Yes ; when he came up to-day I thought he looked more 
 feeble than I had ever seen him ; and, as I sit here and listen to 
 his hollow cough, everv sound seems a stab at mv heart." She 
 rocked herself to and fro for a moment, and added, mournfully : 
 
 " Ah, child ! it is so hard to see my youngest boy going down 
 to the grave before me. The last of five, I hoped he would survive 
 me, but consumption is a terrible thing ; it took my husband 
 first, then, in quick succession, my Other children, and now Harry, 
 my darling, my youngest, is the last prey." 
 
 Anxious to divert her mind, Electra adroitly changed the con- 
 versation, and, when she rose to say good-night, sometime after, 
 had the satisfaction of knowing that the old lady had fallen 
 asleep. It was in vain that she arranged several tempting dishes 
 on the table beside the painter, and coaxed him to partake of 
 them ; he received but a cup of tea from her hand, and motion- 
 ed the remainder away. As the servant removed the tray he 
 looked up at his pupil, and said : 
 
 " Please wheel the lounge nearer to the grate ; I am too tired 
 to sit up to-night," 
 
 She complied at once, shook up the pillow, and, as he laid his 
 head upon it, she spread his heavy plaid shawl over him. 
 
 " Now, sir, what shall I read this evening ?" 
 
 " ' Arcana Ccelestia^ if you please." 
 
 She took up the volume, and began at the place he designated ; 
 and as she read on and on, her rich flexible voice rose and fell 
 upon the air like waves of melody. One of her hands chanced to 
 haiii!; over the arm of the chair, and as she sat near the kmuire. 
 thin hot fingers twined about it, drew it caressingly to the pillow. 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 165 
 
 a. 
 
 and held it tij^litly. Ihr first impulse was to withdraw it, and 
 an expression of annoyance crossed her features ; but, on second 
 thought, slic suffered her fingers to rest passively in his. Now 
 and then, as she turned a leaf, she met his luminous eyes fastened 
 npon her ; but after a time tlie quick breathing attracted her at- 
 tention, and, looking down, she saw that he, too, was sleeping. She 
 closed the book and remained quiet, fearful of disturbing him ; 
 and as she studied the weary, fevered face, noting the march of 
 disease, the sorrowful drooping of the mouth, so indicative of 
 grievous disappointment, a new and holy tenderness awoke in her 
 heart. It was a feelin2* analoirous to that of a mother for a suf- 
 faring child, who can be soothed only by her presence and ca- 
 resses — an affection not unfrequently kindled in haughty natures 
 by the entire dependence of a weaker one. Blended with this 
 was a remorseful consciousness of the coldness with which she had 
 persistently rejected, repulsed every manifestation of his devoted 
 love ; and, winding her fingers through his long hair, she vowed 
 an atonement for the past in increased gentleness for the remain- 
 der of his waning life. As she bent over him, wearing her com- 
 passion in her face, he opened his eyes and looked at her. 
 
 " How long have I slept V^ 
 
 " Nearly an hour. How do you feel since your nap ?" 
 
 He made no reply, and she put her hand on his forehead. The 
 countenance lighted, and he said, slowly : 
 
 " Ah ! yes, press your cool soft httle palm on my brow. It 
 seems to still the throbbing of my temples." 
 
 " It is late, Mr. Clifton, and I must leave you. William look- 
 ed in, a few minutes since, to say that the fire burned iu your 
 room, but I would not wake you. I will send him to you. Good- 
 night." 
 
 She leaned down voluntarily and kissed him, and, with a quick 
 movement, he folded her to his heart an instant, then released 
 her, murmuring, huskily : 
 
 "God bless you, Elcctra, and reward you for your patient en- 
 durance. Good-night, my precious child," 
 
 She went to her room, all unconscious of the burst of emotion 
 which shook the feeble frame of the painter, long after she had 
 
1(36 macakia; or, 
 
 laid her head on her pillow iu the sound slumber of healthful 
 youth. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 TriE year that ensued proved a valuable school of patience, 
 and taught the young artist a gentleness of tone and quietude 
 of mauner at variance with the natural impetuosity of her char- 
 acter. Irksome beyond degree was the discipline to which she 
 subjected herself, but, with a fixedness of purpose that knew 
 no wavering, she walked through tire daily dreary routine, 
 keeping her eyes upon the end that slowly but unmistakably 
 approached. In mid-summer Mr. Clifton removed, for a few 
 weeks, to the Catskill, and occasionall)'' he rallied for a few 
 hours, with a tenacity of strength almost miraculous. Daring 
 the still sunny afternoons hosts of gay visitors,' summer tourists, 
 often paused in their excursions to watch the emaciated form 
 of the painter leaning on the arm of his beautiful pupil, or 
 reclining on a lichen carpeted knoll while she sketched the sur- 
 rounding scenery. Increased feebleness prevented Mrs. Clifton 
 from joining in these out-door jaunts, and early in September, 
 when it became apparent that her mind was rapidly sinking 
 into imbecility, they returned to the city. Memory seemed to 
 have deserted its throne ; she knew neither her son nor Electra, 
 and the last spark of intelligence manifested itself in a semi- 
 recognition of her favorite cat, which sprang to welcome her 
 back as friendly hands bore her to the chamber she was to quit 
 no more till death released the crushed spirit. A letter was 
 found on the atelier mantle, directed to Electra in familiar 
 characters, which she had not seen for months. Very quietly 
 she put it in her pocket, and in the solitude of her room 
 broke the seal ; found that Kussell had returned during her 
 .absence, had spent a morning in the studio looking over her 
 work, and had gone south to establish himself in his native 
 town. Ah ! the grievous, grievous disappointment. A bitter 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 167 
 
 cry rolled from her lips, and the hands wrnng each other 
 despairingly; hut an hour later she stood beside tiie ariist with 
 unruftled brow and a serene mouth, that bore no sur lace-token 
 of the sorrow gnawing at her heart. Winter came on earlier 
 than usual, with unwonted severity ; anrl, week after week, 
 Electra went continually from one sufferer to another, striving 
 to alleviate pain, and to kindle a stray beam of sunshine in the 
 darkened mansion. As one living thing in a charnel-house she 
 flitted from room to room, sometimes shrinking from her own 
 shadow, that glided before her on the polished wall as she 
 went up and down stairs in the dead of night. Unremitted vigil 
 set its pale, infallible signet on her face, but Mr. Clifton either 
 could not or would not see the painful alteiation in her appear- 
 ance ; and when Mrs. Young remonstrated with her niece upon 
 the ruinous effects of this tedious confinement to the house, 
 she only answered, steadily : " I will nurse him so long as I 
 have strength left to creep from one room to another." 
 
 During Christmas week he grew alarmingly worse, and Dr. 
 LeRoy counted the waning life by hours ; but on New Year's 
 eve he declared himself almost well, and insisted on being carried 
 to the studio. The whim was humored, and wrapped in his 
 silken robe lU chamhre^ he was seated in his large cushioned 
 chair, smiling to find himself once more in the midst of his 
 treasures. Turning back the velvet cuff from his attenuated 
 wrist, he lifted his flushed face toward the nurse, and said, 
 eagerly : " Uncover my easel ; make William draw it close to 
 me ; I have been idle long enough. Give me my palette ; I 
 want to retouch the forehead of my hero. It needs a high lio-ht." 
 
 " You are not strong enough to work. Wait till to-morrow." 
 
 *' To-morrow ! to-morrow ! You have told me that fifty 
 times. W^heel up the easel, I say. The spell is upon me, and 
 work I will." 
 
 It was the " ruling passion strong in death," and Electra 
 acquiesced, arranging the colors on the palette as he directed, 
 and selecting the brushes he required. Resting his feet upon 
 the crossbeam, he leaned forward and gazed earnestly upon his 
 master-ijiece, the darling design which had haunted his brain for 
 
168 MACAETA ; OE, 
 
 years. " Theta" he called this piece of canvas, which was a 
 large square painting representing, in the foreground, the death 
 of Socrates. Around the reclining form of the philosopher 
 clustered Apollodorus, Cebes, Simmias, and Crito, and through the 
 window of the prison came the last slanting, quivering ray of the 
 setting sun, showing the street beyond, where, against the stone 
 wall, near a gleaming guardian Hermes, huddled a mournful 
 group — Xantippe and her weeping children. The details of the 
 picture were finished with pre-Raphaelite precision and minute- 
 ness — the sweep and folds of drapery about the couch, the 
 emptied hemlock cup — but the central figure of the Martyr 
 lacked something, and to these last touches Mr. Clifton essayed 
 to address himself. Slowly, feebly, the transparent hand 
 wandered over the canvas, and Electra heard with alarm the 
 labored breath that came panting from his parted lips. She 
 saw the unnatural sparkle in his sunken eyes almost die out, 
 then leap wp again, like smouldering embers swept by a sudden 
 gust, and in the clear strong voice of other years, he repeated 
 to himself the very words of Plato's Phjedo : " For I have 
 heard that it is right to die with good omens. Be quiet, there- 
 fore, and bear up." 
 
 Leaning back to note the effect of his touches, a shiver ran 
 through his frame, the brush fell from his tremulous fingers, and 
 he lay motionless and exhausted. 
 
 Electra threw up the sash, that the wintry air might revive 
 him ; and as the red glare of declining day streamed down from 
 the skylight upon the group, she looked from the easy chair to 
 the canvas, and mutely questioned : " Which is most thanatoid — 
 painter or painted ?" 
 
 Folding his hands like a helpless, tired child, he raised his 
 eyes to hers and said, brokenly : 
 
 " I bequeath it to you ; finish my work. You understand 
 me — you know what is lacking ; finish my ' Theta,' and tell 
 the world I died at work upon it. Oh ! for a fraction of my 
 old strength ! One hour more to complete my Socrates ! 
 Just one hour ! I would ask no more.'' 
 
 She tried to persuade him to. return to his own room, but he 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 160 
 
 obstinately refused, and when she insisted, he answered, plead- 
 ingly : No, no ; let me stay here. Do let me be quiet here. I 
 hate tliat gloomy, tomb-like room." 
 
 She gave him a powerful cordial which the physician had 
 left, and having arranged the pillows on the lounge, drew it 
 close to the easel, and prevailed on him to lie down. 
 
 A servant was despatched for Dr. LeRoy, but returned to 
 say that a dangerous case detained him elsewhere. 
 
 " Mr. Clifton, would you like to have your mother brought 
 down stairs and placed beside you for a while ?'' 
 
 " No ; I want nobody but you. Sit down here close to me, 
 and keep quiet." 
 
 She lowered the heavy curtains, shaded the gas-globe, and, 
 placing a bunch of sweet violets on his pillow, sat down at his 
 side. His favorite spaniel nestled at her feet, and occasionally 
 threw up his head and gazed wistfully at his master. Thus two 
 hours passed, and as she rose to administer the medicine he 
 waved it off, saying : 
 
 " Give me no more of it. I won't be drugged in my last hours. 
 I won't have my intellect clouded by opiates. Throw it into the 
 fire, and let me rest." 
 
 " Oh, sir I can I do nothing for you ?" 
 
 " Yes ; read to me. Your voice lulls me. Read me that 
 letter of lamblichus to Agathocles, which I marked last sum- 
 mer." 
 
 She read it, and, without questioning, laid the book aside and 
 took up a volume of Jacob Behmen, of which he was very fond, 
 selecting, here and there, passages designated by pencil marks. 
 He had long revelled among the echoless abysses of dim, medi- 
 eval mystical lore, and, strange as it may appear, the quaint old 
 books preserved their spell and riveted the wandering mind, even 
 on the verge of dissolution. She knew that Cornelius- Agrippa, 
 Theophrastus Paracelsus, and Swedenborg held singular mastery 
 over him ; but she shrank from all these now, as though they 
 had been bound in flames, and a yearning to comfort him from 
 the sacred lips of Jewish prophets and apostles took possession 
 of her. Passages which she had read to her blind aunt came 
 
 8 * 
 
170 MAC ART A ; OR, 
 
 back to her now, ringing trumpet-toned in her ears, and she rose 
 to brino: a Bible from Mrs. Clifton's room. 
 
 " Where are you going ?" 
 
 " To your mother's room, for a moment only. I want a book 
 which I left there." 
 
 " Sit still. Dp not leave me, I beg of you." He drew her 
 back to the seat, and after a short silence said, slowly : 
 
 " Electra, are you afraid of death ?" 
 
 " Xo, sir." 
 
 " Do you know that I am dying ?" 
 
 " I have seen you as ill several times before." 
 
 *' You are a brave, strong-hearted child ; glazed eyes and stiff- 
 ened limbs will not frighten you. I have but few hours to live ; 
 put your hand in mine, and promise me that you will sit here till 
 my soul quits its clay prison. Will you watch with me the death 
 of the year ? Are you afraid to stay with me, and see me die ?" 
 
 She would not trust herself to speak, but laid her hand in his 
 and clasped it firmly. He smiled, and added : 
 
 " Will you promise to call no one ? I want no eyes but yours 
 to watch me as I die. Let there be only you and me." 
 
 " I promise." 
 
 For some moments he lay motionless, but the intensity of his 
 gaze made her restless, and she shaded her face. 
 
 " Electra, my darling, your martyrdom draws to a close. I 
 have been merciless in my exactions, I know ; you are worn to 
 a shadow, and your face is sharp and haggard ; but you will for- 
 give me all, when the willows of Greenwood trail their boughs 
 across my head-stone. You have been faithful and uncomplain- 
 ing ; you have been to me a light, a joy, and a glory 1 God 
 bless you, my pupil. There was a time when, looking at the fu- 
 ture that stretched before you, I shuddered on your account. 
 Since then I have learned to know you better ; I feel assured 
 your nature will be equal to its trials. You can conquer difficul- 
 ties, and, better still, you can work and live alone ; you can con- 
 quer your own heart. I am passing to a higher, purer, happier 
 sphere ; but my spirit will hover constantly around you here, in 
 the midst of your work, overlooking you continually, as in the 
 
ALTARS OF 8ACRIFICK. 171 
 
 days tluit have gone by. I liavc one request to make of yon, 
 aud unhesitatingly I make it : remain iij tiiis house, and watch 
 over my poor mother's last hours as you watched over and cheer- 
 ed mine. It is a heavy burden to lay upon you ; but you have 
 patiently borne as heavy, and I have no fear thitt you will desert 
 her when the last of her sons sleep under marble. She will never 
 know that I have gone before her till we meet in another w^orld. 
 In ray vest-pocket is the key of my writing-desk. There you 
 will find my will ; take charge of it, and put it in Le Roy's 
 hands as soon as possible. Give me some water." 
 
 She held the glass to his lips, and, as he sank back, a bright 
 smile played over his face. 
 
 " Ah, child ! it is such a comfort to have you here — you are 
 so inexpressibly dear to me." 
 
 She t6ok his thin hands in hers, and hot tears fell upon them. 
 An intolerable weight crushed her heart, a half-defined, horrible 
 dread, and she asked, falteringly : 
 
 " Are you willing to die ? Is your soul at peace with God ? 
 Have you any fear of Eternity ?" 
 
 " Xone, my child, none." 
 
 " Would you like to have Mr. Bailey come and pray for you ?" 
 
 " I want no one now but you." 
 
 A long silence ensued, broken only by the heavily drawn breath 
 of the sufferer. The memory of her aunt's tranquil death haunt- 
 ed the girl, and, finally, the desire to direct his thoughts to God 
 triumphed over every other feeling. She sank on her knees be- 
 side the lounge, and a passionate prayer leaped from her pale 
 lips. She had not prayed for nearly four years, and the petition 
 went up to God framed in strange, incoherent language — a plain- 
 tive cry to the Father to release, painlessly, a struggling human 
 soul. His fingers clung spasmodically to hers, and soon after 
 the head sank on his chest, and she saw that he slept. 
 
 The glittering cortege of constellations moved solemnly on in 
 tjieir eternal march through the fields of heaven, and in mid-sky 
 hung a moon of almost supernatural brightness, glaring down 
 through the sky-light like an inquisitorial eye. Two hours elaps- 
 
172 MACARIA ; OK, 
 
 ed ; the measured melancholy tick of the clock marked the ex- 
 piring raomeats of the q^d year ; the red coals of the grate put 
 on their robe of ashes ; the gas-light burned dimly, and flickered 
 now and then as the wind surged through the partially opened 
 window ; and there by the couch sat the motionless watcher, not- 
 ing the indescribable but unmistakable change creeping on, like 
 the shadow which slowly-sailing summer clouds cast down upon 
 green meadows or flowery hill-sides, darkening the landscape. Tlie 
 feeble, thread-lilvc pulse fluttered irregularly, but the breathing 
 became easy and low as a babe's, and occasionally a gentle sigh 
 heaved the chest. Once his lips had moved, and she caught the 
 
 indistinct words — " Discreet degrees " " influx " 
 
 " type-creature." She knew that the end was at hand, and a 
 strained, frigiitened expression came into her large eyes as she 
 glanced nervously round the room, weird and awful in its gloomy 
 surroundings. The damp masses of hair clung to her temples, 
 and she felt heavy drops gathering on her forehead, as in that 
 glance she met the solemn, fascinating eyes of Munin staring at 
 her from the low mantle. She caught her breath, and the deep 
 silence was broken by the metallic tongue that dirged out 
 " twelve." The last stroke of the bronze hammer echoed drearily ; 
 the old year lay stark and cold on its bier ; Munin flapped his 
 dusky wings with a long, sepulchral, blood-curdling hoot, and the 
 dying man opened his dim, failing eyes, and fixed them for the 
 last time on his pupil. 
 
 " Electra, my darling." 
 
 " My dear master, I am here. " 
 
 She lifted his head to her bosom, nestled her fingers into his 
 cold palm, and leaned her cheek against his brow. Pressing his 
 face close to hers, the gray eyes closed, and a smile throned itself 
 on the parted lips. A slight tremor shook the limbs, a soft shud- 
 during breath swept across the watcher's face, and the ''golden 
 bowl " was shivered, the " silver cord" was loosed. 
 
 She sat there till the iciness of the rigid form chilled her, then* 
 laid the head tenderly down on its pillow, and walked to the 
 mantle-piece. The Angel of Time lifted the hammer and struck 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 17 
 
 Q 
 
 'one ;" and as she gianeeil accidentally at the inscription on the 
 base, she remembered a favorite quotation which it had often 
 called from the cold lips of the dead painter : 
 
 " Time is my fair seed-field, of Time I 'm heir." 
 
 The seed-time had ended ; the calm fields of eternity stretched 
 before him now ; the fruits of the harvest were required at his 
 
 hands. Were they full of ripe golden sheaves, or ? She 
 
 shrank from her own questioning, and looked over her shoulder 
 at the dreamless, smiling sleeper, 
 
 " His palms are folded on his breast : 
 Tliere is no other thing expressed, 
 But long disquiet merged in rest." 
 
 The vigil was over, the burden was lifted from her shoulders, 
 the weary ministry here ended ; and shrouding her face in her 
 arms, the lonely woman wept bitterly. 
 
 CHAPTER XY. 
 
 Four years had wrought material changes in the town of 
 
 W ; new streets had been opened, new buildings erected, 
 
 new forms trod the side-walks, new faces looked out of shop-win- 
 dows, and flashing equipages, and new shafts of granite and mar- 
 ble stood in the cemetery to tell of many who had been gather- 
 ed to their forefathers. The old red school-house, where two 
 generations had been tutored, was swept away to make place for 
 a railroad depot ; and, instead of the venerable trees that once 
 overshadowed its precincts, bristling walls of brick and mortar 
 rang with the shrill whistle of the engine, or the sliarp continual 
 click of repairing-shops. The wild shout, the rij)pling laugli of 
 careless, childish glee were banished, and the frolicsome flock of 
 by-gone years had grown to manhood and womanhood, were se- 
 date busines men and sober matrons. If important revolutions 
 
174 MACARIA ; OR, 
 
 had been eifected in her early home, not less decided and appa- 
 rent was the change' which had taken place in the heiress of 
 Huntingdon Hill ; and having been eyed, questioned, scrutinized 
 by the best families, and laid in the social scale, it was found a 
 difBcult matter to determine her weight as accurately as seemed 
 desirable. In common parlance, " her education was finished " 
 — she was regularly and unmistakably " out." Everybody has- 
 tened to inspect her, sound her, label her ; mothers to compare 
 her with their own daughters ; daughters to discover how much 
 they had to apprehend in the charms of the new rival ; sons to 
 satisfy themselves with regard to the truth of the rumors con- 
 cerning her beauty ; all with curiosity stamped on their counte- 
 nances ; all with dubiety written there at the conclusion of their 
 visit. Perfectly self-possessed, studiedly polite, attentive to all 
 the punctilios of etiquette, polished and irreproachable in de- 
 portment, but cold, reticent, grave, indulging in no familiarities, 
 and allowing none ; fascinating by her extraordinary beauty and 
 grace, but tacitly impressing upon all, " Thus far, and no far- 
 ther." Having lost her aunt two years before her return, the 
 duties of hostess devolved upon her, and she dispensed the hos- 
 pitalities of her home with an easy though stately elegance, sur- 
 prising in one so inexperienced. Xo positive charge could be 
 preferred against her by the inquisitorial circle ; even Mrs. Judge 
 Harris, the self-constituted, but universally acknowledged, auto- 
 crat of beau monde in W , accorded her a species of negative 
 
 excellence, and confessed herself baffled, and unable to pronounce 
 a verdict. An enigma to her own father, it was not wonderful 
 that strangers knit their brows in striving to analyze her charac- 
 ter, and ere long the cooing of carrier-pigeons became audible : 
 " Her mother had been very eccentric ; even before her death it 
 was whispered that insanity hung threateningly over her ; strange 
 things were told of her, and, doubtless, Irene inherited her pecu- 
 liarities." Nature furnishes some seed with downy wings to in- 
 sure distribution, and envy, and malice, and probably very inno- 
 cent and mild-intentioned gossip, soon provided this report with 
 remarkable facilities for progress. It chanced that Dr. Arnold 
 was absent for some weeks after her arrival, and no sooner had 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFTCF. 175 
 
 lie rotunied than he sought his quondam protege. Entering rni- 
 announced, he paused suddenly as lie caught sight of her stand- 
 ing before the fire, with Paragon at her feet. She lifted lier 
 head and came to meet him, holding out both hands, with a 
 warm, bright smile. 
 
 " Oh, Dr. Arnold I I am so glad to see you once more. It 
 was neither friendly nor hospitable to go off just as I canie 
 home, after long years of absence. I am very glad to see 
 you.'' 
 
 He held her hands and gazed at her like one in a dream of 
 mingled pain and pleasure, and when he spoke his voice was 
 unsteady. 
 
 " You can not possibly be as glad to see me as I am to have 
 
 you back. But I can't realize that this is, indeed, you my pet 
 
 the Irene I parted with rather more than four years ago. Child, 
 what is it ? What have you done to yourself? I called you 
 queen in your infancy, when you clung to my finger and tottered 
 across the floor to creep into my arms, but ten-fold more appro- 
 priate does the title seem now. You are not the same Irene 
 who used to toil up my office steps, and climb upon the tallest 
 chair to examine the skeletons in my case — the snakes and liz- 
 ards in my jars. Oh, child ! what a marvellous, what a glorious 
 beauty you have grown to be." 
 
 " Take care ; you will, spoil her, Arnold. Don't you know, 
 you old cynic, that women can't stand such flattery as yours ?" 
 laughed Mr. Huntingdon. 
 
 " I am glad you like me. Doctor ; lam glad you think I have 
 improved ; and since you think so, I am obliged to you for ex- 
 pressing your opinion of me so kindly. I wish I could return 
 your compliments, but my conscience vetoes any such proceed- 
 ing. You look jaded— over-worked. What is the reason tliat 
 you have grown so gray and haggard ? We will enter into a 
 compact to renew the old life ; you shall treat me exactly as 
 you used to do, and I shall come to you as formerly, and inter- 
 rupt labors that seem too heavy. Sit down and talk to me. I 
 want to hear your voice ; it is pleasant to my ears, makes music 
 in my heart, calls up the by-gone. You have adopted a stick in 
 
176 MACARIA ; OK, 
 
 my absence ; I don't like the innovation ; it hurts me to think that 
 you need it. I must take care of you, I see, and persuade^ you 
 to relinquish it entirely." 
 
 ** Arnold, I verily believe she was more anxious to see you 
 than everybody else in W except old Nellie, her nurse." 
 
 She did not contradict him, and the three sat conversing for 
 riore than an hour ; then other visitors came in, and she with- 
 drew to the parlor. * The doctor had examined her closely all 
 the while ; had noted every word, action, expression ; and a 
 troubled, abstracted look came into his face when she left them. 
 
 " Huntingdon, what is it ? What is it ?" 
 
 ** What is what ? I don't understand you." 
 
 " What has so changed that child ? I want to know what 
 ails her ?" 
 
 *' Nothing, that I know of. You know that she was always 
 rather singular." 
 
 " Yes, but it was a different sort of singularity. She is too 
 still, and white, and cold, and stately. I told you it was a 
 wretched piece of business to send a nature like hers, so difTerent 
 from everybody's else, off among utter strangers ; to shut up that 
 queer, free, untamed thing in a boarding-school for four years, 
 with hundreds of miles between her and the few things she 
 loved. She required very peculiar and skilful treatment, and, 
 -instead, you put her off where she petrified I I knew it would 
 never answer, and I told you so. You wanted to break her ob- 
 stinacy, did you ? She comes back marble. I tell you now I 
 know her better than you do, though you are her father, and 
 you may as well give up at once that chronic hallucination of 
 ' ruling, conquering her.' She is like steel — cold, firm, brittle ; she 
 will break ; snap asunder ; but bend ! — never ! never ! Hunting- 
 don, I love that child ; I have a right to love her ; she has been 
 very dear to me from her babyhood, and it would go hard with 
 me to know that any sorrow darkened her life. Don't allow 
 your old plans and views to influence you now. Let Irene be 
 happy in her own way. Did you ever see a contented-looking 
 eagle in a gilt cage ? Did you ever know a leopardess kept in 
 a paddock, and taught to forget her native jungles ?" 
 
. ^ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 177 
 
 Mr. Iluntiiigdon moved uneasily, pondering the unpalatable 
 advice. 
 
 " YoQ certainly don't mean to say that she has inherited 
 
 ." He crushed back the words ; could he crush the aj)- 
 
 prehension, too ? 
 
 " I mean to say that, if she were my child, 1 would be guided 
 by her, instead of striving to cut her character to fit the totally 
 different pattern of my own." 
 
 He put on his hat, thrust his hands into his pockets, stood for 
 some seconds frowning so heavily that the shaggy eyebrows met 
 and partially concealed the cavernous eyes, then nodded to the 
 master of the house, and sought his buggy. From that day 
 Irene was conscious of a keener and more constant scrutiny on 
 her father's part— a ceaseless surveillance^ silent, but rigid — that 
 soon grew intolerable. No matter how she employed her time, 
 or whither she went, he seemed thoroughly cognizant of the de- 
 tails of her life ; and where she least expected interruption or 
 dictation, his hand, firm though gentle, pointed the way, and his 
 voice calmly but inflexibly directed. Her aifection had been in 
 no degree alienated by their long separation, and, through its 
 sway, she submitted for a time ; but Huntingdon blood ill 
 brooked restraint, and, ere long, hers became feverish, necessi- 
 tating release. As in all tyrannical natures, his exactions grew 
 upon her compliance. She was allowed no margin for the exer- 
 cise of judgment or inclination ; her associates were selected, 
 thrust upon her ; her occupations decided without reference to 
 her wishes. From the heartless, frivolous routine marked out, 
 she shrank in disgust ; and, painful as was the alternative, she 
 prepared for the clash which soon became inevitable. He wished 
 her to be happy, but in his own way, in accordance with his 
 views and aims, and, kiiowing the utter antagonism of taste and 
 feeling which unfortunately existed, she detennined to resist, 
 (loverned less by impulse than sober second thought and sound 
 re'iisoning, it was not until after long and patient deliberation 
 that she finally resolved upon her future course, and steadily 
 maintained it. She felt most keenly that it was a painful, a la- 
 mentable resolution, but none the less a necessity ; and, having 
 
 8* 
 
178 MAC ARIA ; OR, 
 
 ouce determined, she went forward with a fixedness of purpose 
 characteristic of her family. It was the beginning of a life-long 
 contest, and, ta one who understood Leonard Huntingdon's dis- 
 position, offered a dreary prospect. 
 
 From verbal differences she habitually abstained ; opinions 
 which she knew to be disagreeable to him she carefully avoided 
 giving expression to in his presence ; and, while always studiously 
 •thoughtful of his comfort, she preserved a respectful deportment, 
 allowing herself no hasty or defiant words. Fond of pomp and 
 ceremony, and imbued with certain aristocratic notions, which an 
 ample fortune had always permitted him to indulge, Mr. Hunt- 
 ingdon entertained company in princely style, and whenever an 
 opportunity offered. His dinners, suppers, and card-parties were 
 known far and wide, and Huntingdon Hill became proverbial for 
 hospitality throughout the state. Strangers were feted, and it 
 was a rare occurrence for father and daughter to dine quietly to- 
 gether. Fortunately for Irene, the servants were admirably 
 trained ; and though this round of company imposed a weight of 
 responsibilities oppressive to one so inexperienced, she applied 
 herself diligently to domestic economy, and soon became familiar- 
 ized with its details. Her father had been very anxious to provide 
 her with a skilful housekeeper, to relieve her of the care and 
 tedious minutia of such matters ; but she refused to accept one, 
 avowing her belief that it was the imperative duty of every 
 woman to superintend and inspect the management of her domes- 
 tic affairs. Consequently, from the first week of her return, she 
 made it a rule to spend an hour after breakfast in her dining-room 
 pantry, determining and arranging the details of the day. 
 
 The situation of the house commanded an extensive and beau- 
 tiful prospect, and the ancient trees that over-shadowed it im- 
 parted a venerable and imposing aspect; The building was of 
 brick, overcast to represent granite, and along three sides ran a 
 wide gallery, supported by lofty, circular pillars, crowned with 
 unusually heavy capitals. The main body consisted of two 
 stories, with a hall in the centre, and three rooms on either side; 
 while two long single-storied wings stretched out right and left, 
 one a billiard-room, the other a green-house. 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 179 
 
 The parlors and library occupied one side, the first opening 
 into tlie -reen-house ; the dining-room and smoking-room were 
 correspondingly situated to the billiard-saloon. The frescoed 
 ceilings were too low to suit modern ideas ; the windows were 
 large, and nearly square ; the facings, sills, and doors all of ce- 
 dar, dark as mahogany with age, and polished as rosewood. The 
 tall mantle-pieces. were of fluted Egyptian black marble and 
 along the freshly-tinted walls the elaborate arabesque moulding 
 or cornice hung heavy and threatening. A broad easy fliHit of 
 white marble steps led up to the richly-carved front door"^ with 
 lis massive silver knocker bearing the name of Huntingdon in old- 
 fashiened Italian characters ; and in the arched niches, on either 
 &ide of this door, stood two statues, brought from Europe by 
 Mr. Huntingdon's father, and supposed to represent certain 
 lioman penatcs. 
 
 From the hall on the second floor, a narrow, spiral, iron stair- 
 way ascended to a circular observatory on the roof, with a row 
 of small columns corresponding with those below, and a tessel- 
 lated floor of alternating white and variegated squares of marble 
 Originally the observatory had been crowned by a heavy, patro- 
 da-shaped roof, but recently this had been removed and a'cov^er- 
 ing of glass substituted, which, like that of hot-houses, could be 
 raised and lowered at pleasure, by means of ropes and pulleys 
 Two generations had embellished this house, and the modern 
 wings forming the cross had been erected within Irene's recollec- 
 tion. In expectation of her return, an entirely new set of furni- 
 ture had been selected in Xew York, and arraigned some weeks 
 before her arrival-costly carpets, splendid mirrors, plush and 
 brocatel sofas, rich china, and every luxury which wealth and 
 fastidious taste could supply. The grounds in front, embracing 
 several acres, were enclosed by a brick wall, and at the foot of 
 the hill, at the entrance of the long avenue of elms, stood a tall 
 arched iron gate. A smoothly-shaven terrace of Bermuda grass 
 ran round the house, and the broad carriage-way swept up to a 
 mound opposite the door, surmounted by the bronze figure of a 
 crouching dog. On one side of the avenue a beautiful lawn, 
 studded with clumps of trees, extended to the wall ; on the other,' 
 
18(' MACARIA ; OR, 
 
 serpentine walks, bordered with low hedges, carved flower-beds 
 of diverse shapes ; and here delicate trellis- work supported raro 
 creepers, and airy, elegant arbors and summer-houses were over- 
 grown with vines of rank luxuriance. Everything about the 
 •parterre, from the well-swept gravel walks to the carefully-clip- 
 ped hedges, betokened constant attention and lavish expenditure. 
 But the crowning glory of the place was its wealth of trees — the 
 ancient avenue of mighty elms, arching grandly to the sky like 
 the groined nave of some vast cathedral ; the circlet of sentinel 
 poplars towering around the house, and old as its foundations ; 
 the long, undulating line of venerable willows waving at the foot 
 of the lawn, over the sinuous little brook that rippled onift way 
 to the creek ; and, beyond the mansion, clothing the sides of a 
 steeper hill, a sombre back-ground of murmuring, solemn, imme- 
 morial pines. Such was Irene's home — stately and elegant — 
 kept so thoroughly repaired that, in its cheerfulness, its age was 
 forgotten. 
 
 The society of W was considered remarkably fiue. 
 
 There was quite an aggregation of wealth and refinement ; gen- 
 tlemen, whose plantations were situated in adjacent counties, re- 
 sided here, with their families ; some, who spent tiieir winters on 
 the seaboard, resorted here for the summer ; its bar was said to 
 possess more talent than any otlier in the state ; its schools 
 claimed to be unsurpassed ; it boasted of a concert-hall, a lyce- 
 um, a handsome court-house, a commodious, well-built jail, and 
 half-a-dozen as fine churches, as any country town could desire. 
 I would fain avoid the term, if possible, but no synonym exists — 
 W was, indisputably, an " aristocratic " place. 
 
 Thus, after more than four years' absence, the summers of 
 which had been spent in travel among the beautiful mountain 
 scenery of the Xorth, the young heiress returned to the home of 
 her childhood. Standing on the verge of nineteen, she put the 
 early garlanded years behind her and looked into the solemn 
 tempte of womanhood, with its chequered pavement of light and 
 siiadow ; its storied friezes, gilded architraves, and fretted 
 shrines, where white-robed bands of devotees enter with uncer- 
 tain step, all eager, trembling MystcB, soon to become clear-eyed, 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 181 
 
 sad-eyed Epoptns^ tlirougli tlie unerring, mystical, sacred initia- 
 tion of the only true liieropliant — Time. 
 
 From her few early school associates she had become cora- 
 ^ pletely estranged ; and the renewal of their acquaintance now 
 soon convinced her that the utter want of congeniality in char- 
 acter and habits of life precluded the possibility of any warm 
 friendships between them. For several months after her return 
 she patiently, hopefully, faithfully studied the. dispositions of the 
 members of various families with whom she foresaw that she 
 would be thrown, by her father's wishes, into intimate relation- 
 ship, and satisfied herself that, among all these, there was not 
 one, save Dr. Arnold, whose counsel, assistance, or sympathy she 
 felt any inclination to claim. Human nature at least is, beyond 
 all cavil, cosmopolitan in its characteristics, (barring a few eth- 
 nologic limitations) ; and a given number of men and women 
 similarly circumstanced in Chili, England, Madagascar, Utah, or 
 Burmah would, doubtless,, yield a like quota of moral and intel- 
 lectual idiosyncrasies. In fiiie, W was not in any respect 
 
 peculiar, or, as a community, spcciaTly afflicted with heartless- 
 ness, frivolity, brainlessness, or mammonism ; the average was 
 fair, reputable, in all respects. But, incontrovertibly, the girl 
 who came to spend her life among these people was totally dis- 
 similar in criteria of action, thought, and feeling. To the stereo- 
 typed conventional standard of fashionable hfe she had never 
 yielded allegiance ; and now stood (not in the St. Simon, Fou- 
 rier, Owen, or Leroux sense) a social free-thinker. For a sea- 
 son she allowed herself to be whirled on by the current of din- 
 ners, parties, and picnics ; but soon her sedate, contemplative 
 temperament revolted from the irksome round, and gradually she 
 outlined and pursued a diflferent course, giving to her gay qom- 
 panions just what courtesy reauired, no more. 
 
 Hugh had prolonged his stay in Europe beyond the period 
 originally designated ; and, instead of arriving in time to accom- 
 pany his uncle and cousin home, he did not sail for some months 
 after their return. At length, however, letters were received 
 announcing his presence in New York, and fixing the day when 
 his relatives might expect him. 
 
182 MACAKIA ; OR, 
 
 CHAPTER XYI. 
 
 The carriage had been despatched to the depot, a servant 
 stood at the end of the avenue waiting to throw open the gate, 
 Mr. Huntingdon walked up and down the wide colonnade, and 
 Irene sat before the fire in her own room, holding in one palm 
 the flashiuo- betrothal rino*, which she had been forced to wear 
 siuce her return from New York. She had looked into the 
 rooms to see that all was bright and cheerful, had looped back 
 the curtains in the apartment prepared for Hugh, had filled the 
 vases with flowers that he preferred in his boyhood, and now 
 listened for his approach with complex emotions. The sole com- 
 panion of her infancy, she would have hailed his arrival with un- 
 mixed joy, but for the peculiar relationship in which she now 
 stood to him. The few years of partial peace had passed ; she 
 knew thi|t the hour drew near when the long-dreaded struggle 
 must begin, and, hopeless of averting it, quietly waited for the 
 storm to break. Dropping the ring in her jewelry box, she 
 turned the key, and just then her father's voice rang through the 
 house. 
 
 " Irene I the carriage is coming up the avenue." 
 She went slowly down stairs, followed by Paragon, and joined 
 her fother at the door. His searching look discovered nothing 
 in the serene face ; the carriage stopped, and he hastened to meet 
 his nephew. 
 
 " Come at last, eh ! Welcome home, my dear boy." 
 The young man turned from his uncle, sprang up the steps, 
 then paused, and the cousins looked at each other. 
 
 " Well, Hugh ! I am very glad to see you once more." 
 She held out her hands, and he saw at a glance that her fin- 
 gers were unfettered. Seizing them warmly, he bent forward, 
 but she drew back coldly, and he exclaimed : 
 " Irene ! I claim a warmer welcome." 
 
 She made a haughty, repellent gesture, and moved forward a 
 few steps, to greet the stranger who accompanied him. 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 183 
 
 " My daugliter, this is your nncle, Eric Mitchell, who has not 
 seen you since you were a baby." 
 
 The party entered the house, and, seated beside him, Irene 
 gazed witli mingled emotions of pain and pleasure upon her mo- 
 ther's only brother. He was about thirty, but looked older, 
 from life-long suflfering ; had used crutches from the time he was 
 five years of age, having been hopelessly crippled by a fall dur- 
 ing his infancy. His features were sharp, his cheeks wore tlie 
 sallow hue of habitual ill health, and his fine gray eyes were 
 somewhat sunken. Resting his crutches against the sofa, he 
 leaned back, and looked long and earnestly at his niece. Yery 
 dimly he remembered a fair, flaxen-haired baby whom the nurse 
 had held out to be kissed when he was sent to Philadelphia to 
 be treated for his lameness ; soon after he heard of his sister's 
 death, and then his tutor took him to Europe, to command the 
 best medical advice of the old world. 
 
 " From the faint recollection which I have of your mother, 
 I think you strongly resemble her," he said, at last, in a fond, 
 gentle tone. 
 
 "I don't know about that, Eric. She is far more of a 
 Huntingdon than a Mitchell. She has many of the traits of 
 your family, but in appearance she certainly belongs to my 
 side of the house. She very often reminds me of Hugh's mo- 
 ther. 
 
 Conversation turned upon the misfortune of the cripple ; he 
 spoke freely of the unsuccessful experiments made by eminent 
 physicians ; of the hopelessness of his case ; and Irene was par- 
 ticularly impressed by the calmness and patience with which he 
 seemed to have resigned himself to this great affliction. She 
 could detect no trace of complaining bitterness, or, what was 
 still more to be deplored, the irritable, nervous querulousness so. 
 often observed in persons of his situation. She found him a 
 ripe scholar, a profound archaeologist, and philosophic observer 
 of his age and generation ; and deeply interested in his quiet,^ 
 low-toned talk, she felt irresistibly drawn toward him, careless of 
 passing hours and of Hugh's ill-concealed impatience of manner. 
 As they rose from the tea-table her cousin said laughingly : 
 
184: MAC ART A 
 
 " I protest against monopoly. I have not been able to say 
 three words to my lady-cousin." 
 
 "I yield the floor from necessity. My long* journey has un- 
 fitted me for this evening, and I must bid you all an early good- 
 night.** 
 
 " Can I do anything for you, uncle ?" 
 
 " No, thank you, Irene ; I have a servant who thoroughly 
 understands taking care of me. Go talk to Hugli, who has been 
 wishing me among the antipodes." 
 
 He shook hands with her, smiled kindly, and Mr. Huntingdon 
 assisted him to his room. 
 
 " Irene, come into the library and let me have a cigar." 
 
 " How tenacious your bad habits are, Hugh." 
 
 " Smoking belongs to no such category. My habits are cer- 
 tainly quite as tenacious as my cousin's antipathies." 
 
 He selected a cigar, lighted it, and drawing a chair near hers, 
 threw himself into it with an expression of great satisfaction. 
 "It is delightful to get back home, and see you again, Irene. 
 I felt some regret at quitting Paris, but the sight of your face 
 more than compensates me." 
 
 She was looking very earnestly at him, noting the alteration 
 in his appearance, and for a moment his eyes drooped before 
 hers. She saw that the years had been spent, not in study, but 
 in a giddy round of pleasure iind dissipation, yet the bright, 
 frank, genial expression of boyhood still lingered, and she could 
 not deny that he had grown up a very handsome man. She 
 knew that he was capable of sudden, spasmodic impulses of 
 generosity, but saw that selfishness remained the great sub- 
 stratum of his character, and her keen feeling of disappointment 
 showed her now how much she had hoped to find him changed 
 in this respect. 
 
 " Irene, I had a right to expect a warmer welcome than you 
 deigned to give me. 
 
 " Hugh, remember that we have ceased to be children. When 
 you learn to regard me simply as your cousin, and are satisfied 
 with a cousin's welcome, then, and not until then, shall you re- 
 ceive it. Let childish whims pass with the years that have se- 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 185 
 
 parated us ; rake up no germs of contention to mar this first 
 evening of your return, lie reasonable, and now tell me how 
 3VU have employed yourself since we parted ; what have you 
 seen ? what iiave you gleaned ?" 
 
 He flushed angrily, but the imperturbable face controlled 
 him, even against his will, and mutteriiig something which she 
 thought sounded very much like an oath, he smoked for some 
 seconds in silence. Without noticing his sullenness, she made 
 some enquiries concerning his sojourn in Paris, and insensibly he 
 found himself drawn into a narration of his course of life. She 
 listened with apparent interest, making occasional good-humored 
 comments, and bringing him back to the subject whenever he 
 attempted a detour toward the topic so extremely distasteful to 
 her. 
 
 The clock struck eleven ; she rose and said : 
 
 " I beg your pardon, Hugh, for keeping you up so late. I 
 ought to have known that you were fatigued by railroad travel, 
 and required sleep. You know the way to your room ; it is the 
 same you occupied before you went to college. Good night ; I 
 hope you will rest well." 
 
 She held out her hand carelessly ; he took it eagerly, and 
 holding it up to the light said, in a disappointed tone : 
 
 " Irene, where is my ring ? Why are you not wearing it ?" 
 
 " It is in my jewelry box. As I gave you my reasons for 
 not wearing it, when you offered it to me, it is not necessary to 
 repeat them now. Good-night, Hugh ; go dream of something 
 more agreeable than our old childish quarrels." Slie withdrew 
 her fingers apd left him. 
 
 As she entered her own room and closed the door, she was 
 surprised to find her nurse sitting before the fire, with her chin 
 in her hands, and her keen black eyes fixed on the coals. 
 
 " Aunt Nellie, what are you sitting up so late for ? You will 
 have another spell of rheumatism, tramping about this time of 
 night." 
 
 " I have been to see Mass' Eric, blessed lamb that he always 
 was, and always will be. He is so changed I never would have 
 known him j he was a weak, little white-faced cripple when I 
 
186 MACARIA ; OR, 
 
 first saw him, twenty years ago. It seems like there is a curse 
 on your family anyhow, both sides. They died off, and have 
 been killed off, on your mother's side, till Mass' Eric is the oniy 
 one left of all the Mitchells, and, as for master's family, you and 
 Hugh are the two last. You know some families run out, and 
 3 don't think master ought to try to overturn the Lord's plans. 
 Queen, let things take their course." 
 
 " Who has put all this into your head ?" 
 
 " Nobody put it into my head ! I should like to know where 
 my eyes have been these many years ? I haven't been so near 
 blind all my life. Don't you suppose I know what master 's 
 been after since you were eighteen months old ? Was n't 1 
 standing by the bed when Hugh's mother died, and did n't I hear 
 master promise her that, when you were grown, you and Hugh 
 should marry ? Don't I know how your poor dying mother cried, 
 and wrung her hands, and said ' Harm would come of it all, 
 and she hoped you would die while you were a baby ?' She 
 bad found out wliat Huntingdon temper was. Poor blessed sahit ! 
 what a life she did lead between Miss Margaret and Miss Isa- 
 bella ! It is no use to shut your eyes to it, Queen. You might 
 just as well look at it at once. It is a sin for near kin like you 
 and Hugh to marry, and you ought to set your face against it. 
 He is just his mother over again, and you will see trouble, as 
 sure as your name is Irene, if you don't take a stand. Oh ! 
 they are managing people ? and the Lord have mercy on folks 
 they don't like, for it is n't in Huntingdon blood to forgive or to 
 forget anything. I am so thankful your uncle Eric has come, he 
 will help to stand between you and trouble. Ah ! it is coming. 
 Queen ! it 's coming ! You did n^t see how your father frowned 
 when you would n't let Hugh kiss you ? I was looking through 
 the window and saw it all. I have n't had one hour's peace 
 since I dreamed of seeing you and your mother together. Oh, 
 my baby ! my baby ! there is trouble and sorrow thickening for 
 you ; I know it. I have had a warning of it." 
 
 She inclined her head on one side, and rocked herself to and 
 fro, much as did early Pelasgic Dodonides in announcing oracu- 
 cular decrees. 
 
ALTARS OF SACRTFICK. 187 
 
 " You need not grieve about it ; I want no body to stand 
 between me and trouble. Beside, Nellie, you must remember 
 that, in all my father does, he intends and desires to promote 
 my welfare, and make me happy." 
 
 " Did he send you off to that boarding-school for your hap- 
 piness ? You were very happy there, wern't you ? It is no use 
 to try to blindfold me ; I have lived a little too long. Oh, my 
 baby ! your white, white face, and big sorrowful blue eyes fol- 
 low me day and night ! I knew how it would be when you were 
 born. You came into this world among awful signs ! The sun 
 was eclipsed ! chickens went to roost, as if night had come ; 
 and I saw stars in the sky at two o'clock in the day ! Oh ! I 
 thought, sure enough, judgment day -had come at last ; and 
 when they put you in my arms I trembled^ so I could hardly 
 stand. May God have mercy on you. Queen !" 
 
 She shuddered for a moment, as if in the presence of some 
 dread evil, and, rising, wrapped her shawl about her shoulders 
 and left the room. 
 
 Irene looked after her retreating form, smiling at the super- 
 stitious turn her thoughts had taken, then dismissing the subject, 
 she fell asleep thinking of her uncle. 
 
 A week passed, varied by few incidents of interest ; the new- 
 comers became thoroughly domesticated — the old routine was 
 re-established. Hugh seemed gay and careless — hunting, visit- 
 ing, renewing boyish acquaintances, and whiling away the time 
 as inclination prompted. He had had a long conversation with 
 his uncle, and the result was that, for the present, no allusion 
 was made to the future. In Irene's presence the subject was 
 temporarily tabooed. She knew that the project was not relin- 
 quished, Vas only veiled till a convenient season, and, giving to 
 the momentary lull its full value, she acquiesced, finding in Eric's 
 society enjoyment and resources altogether unexpected. In- 
 stinctively they seemed to comprehend each other's character, 
 and while both were taciturn and undemonstrative, a warm 
 affection sprang up between them. 
 
 On Sunday morning, as the family group sat around the 
 breakfast-table waiting for Hugh, who lingered, as usual, over 
 
188 MAC ART A ; OR, 
 
 his second cup of chocolate, Mr. Mitchell suddenly laid down the 
 fork with which he had been describing a series of geometrical 
 figures on the fine damask, and said : " I met a young man in 
 Brussels who interested me extremely, and in connection with 
 whom I venture the prediction that, if he lives, he will occupy a 
 conspicuous position in the afi'airs of his country. He is^ or 
 
 was, Secretary of Mr. Campbell, our minister to ■ , and 
 
 they were both on a visit to Brussels when I met them. His 
 name is Aubrey, and he told me that he lived here. His talents 
 are of the first order ; his ambition unbounded, I should judge ; 
 and his patient, laborious application certainly surpasses any- 
 thing I have ever seen. It happened that a friend of mine, from 
 London, was prosecuting certain researches among the MS. 
 archives at Brussels, and here, immersed in study, he says he found . 
 the secretary, who completely distanced him in his investigations, 
 and then, with unexpected generosity, placed his notes at my 
 friend's disposal. His industry is almost incredible. Con- 
 versing with. Campbell concerning him, I learned that he was a 
 protege of the minister, who spoke of his future in singularly 
 sanguine terms. He left him some time since to embark in the 
 practice of law. Do you know him, Huntingdon ?" 
 
 " Xo, sir ! but I know that his father was sentenced to the 
 gallows, and only saved himself from it by cutting his miserable 
 throat, and cheating the law." 
 
 The master of the house thrust back his chair violently, crush- 
 ing one of Paragon's innocent paws as he crouched on the carpet, 
 and overturning a glass which shivered into a dozen fragments 
 at his feet. 
 
 Irene understood thfe scowl on his brow, but only she pos- 
 sessed the clew, and, lazily sipping his chocolate, Hugh added : 
 " I recollect him very well as a boy ; he always had a bookish look, 
 and I met him one day on the boulevard at Paris. He was 
 talking to an attache of the American Legation as I came up, 
 and took no more notice of me than if I had been one of the 
 paving-stones. I could not avoid admiring the cool sublimity of 
 his manner, and, as I had snubbed him at school long ago, I p;it 
 out my hand, and said : * Howdy-do, Aubrey ; pray, when did 
 
ALTx\R3 OF SACRIFICP:. ISO 
 
 you cross tho water V He bowed as frigidly as Czar Nicholas, 
 and, without noticing my hand, answered : * Good-morning, Mr. 
 Seymour ; I have been in Europe two years,' and walked on. 
 The day after I got home I met him going up the court-house 
 steps, and looked him full in the face ; he just inclined his head, 
 and passed me. Confound it ! he 's as proud as if he had found 
 a patent of nobility in digging among Belgic archives." 
 
 " Nature furnished him with one, many years since," replied 
 Eric. 
 
 " Yes ; and his coat-of-arms should be jack-ketch and a gal- 
 lows !" sneered Mr. Huntingdon. 
 
 Looking at his watch, he said, as if wishing to cut the con- 
 Tersation short : 
 
 " Irene, if you intend to go to church to-day, it is time that 
 you had your bonnet on. Hugh, what will you do with your- 
 self ? Go with Eric and your cousin ?" 
 
 " No, I rather think I shall stay at home with you. After 
 European cathedrals, our American churches seem excessively 
 plain." Irene went to her room,* pondering the conversation. 
 She thought it remarkable that, as long as she had been at home, 
 she had never seen Russell, even on the street. 
 
 Unlocking her writing-desk, she took out a tiny note which 
 had accompanied a check for two hundred dollars, and had 
 reached her a few months before she left boarding school. The 
 firm, round, manly hand ran as follows : 
 
 " With gratitude beyond all expression for the favor conferred 
 
 on my mother and myself, some years since, I now return to 
 
 Miss Huntingdon the money which I have ever regarded as a 
 
 friendly loan. Hoping that the future will afford me some 
 
 opportunity of proving my appreciation of her great kindness, 
 
 " I remain, most respectfully, 
 
 " Her obliged friend, 
 
 " Russell Aubrey. 
 " New York, September 5th J^ 
 
 She was conscious of a feeling of regret that the money had 
 been returned ; it was pleasant to reflect on the fact that she 
 
190 MAC ARIA ; OR, 
 
 had laid him under obligation ; now it all seemed cancelled. She 
 relocked the desk, and, drawing on her gloves, joined her uncle 
 at the carriage. Her father accompanied her so rarely that she 
 scarcely missed him, and during the ride, as Eric seemed abstract- 
 ed, she leaned back, and her thoughts once more reverted to the 
 unfortunate topic of the breakfast-table. Arriving at church 
 later than was her wont, she found the family pew occupied by 
 strangers, and crossed the aisle to share a friend's, but at that 
 instant a tall .form rose in Mr. Campbell's long vacant pew, step- 
 ped into the aisle, and held open the door. She drew back to 
 suffer her uncle to limp in and lay aside his crutches, saw him 
 give his hand to the stranger, and, sweeping her veil aside as she 
 entered, she saw Russell quietly resume his seat at the end of 
 the pew. 
 
 Startled beyond measure, she looked at him intently, and al- 
 most wondered that she recognized him, he had changed so ma- 
 terially since the day on which she stood with him before his mo- 
 ther's gate. Meantime the service commenced, she gave her 
 hymn-book to her uncle, and at the same moment Russell found 
 the place, and handed her one of two which lay near him. As 
 she received it their eyes met, looked fixedly into each other, and 
 she held out her hand. He took it, she felt his fingers tremble 
 as they dropped hers, and then both faces bent over the books. 
 When they knelt side by side, and the heavy folds of her elegant 
 dress swept against him, it seemed a feverish dream to her ; she 
 could not realize that, at last, they had met again, and her heart 
 beat so fiercely that she pressed her hand upon it, dreading lest 
 he should hear its loud pulsations. Lowering her veil, she drew 
 her costly velvet drapery about her and leaned back : and the 
 anthem was chanted, the solemn organ-tones hushed themselves, 
 the minister stood up in the pulpit, and his dull tones fell on her 
 ear and brain meaningless as the dry patter of dying leaves in an 
 autumn wind. The outline of that tall, broad-shouldered, mag- 
 nificently-turned figure, replete with vigorous muscular strength ; 
 the massive, finely-formed head, easily, gracefully poised, like that 
 of a statue ; above all, the " olive-pale, proud face, unshaded by 
 beard, with regular features sharply yet beautifully cut, like 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 191 
 
 those in the rare gems which Benvenuto CeUini left tlie world, 
 greeted her now, turn which way she would. The coat was but- 
 toned to the throat, the strong arms were crossed over the deep 
 chest, the piercing bhick eyes raised and fastened on the pulpit. 
 It lias been well said : "The eyes indicate the antiquity of the 
 soul, or through how many forms it has already ascended "If so, 
 his seemed brimful of destiny, and ceons old, in that one long un- 
 veiling look which they had exchanged ; deep, sparkling, a nd yet 
 indescribably melancholy, something in the expression vividly re- 
 calling the Beatrice Ceuci ; then all analogy was baffled. Elec- 
 tra knew wherein consisted their wonderful charm, and because 
 slie put these eyes on canvas connoisseurs studied and a.pplaud- 
 ed her work. Now face and figure, cold and unrelenting, stamp- 
 ed themselves on Irene's memory las indelibly as those which la- 
 borious, patient lapidaries carve on coral or cornelian. The dis- 
 course was ended, the diapason of the organ swelled through 
 the lofty church, priestly hands hovered like white doves over 
 the congregation, dismissing all with blessing. Once more Irene 
 swept back the rich lace veil, fully exposing her face ; once moi'e 
 her eyes looked into those of the man who politely held the pew 
 door open ; both bowed with stately grace, and she walked down 
 the aisle. She heard Russell talking to her uncle just behind her, 
 heard the inquiries concerning his health, the expression of plea- 
 sure at meeting again, the hope which Eric uttered that he 
 
 should see him frequently during his stay in W . Without 
 
 even a glance over her shoulder, she proceeded to the carriage, 
 where her uncle soon joined her, taking the front seat instead of 
 sharing the back one, as is customary. He scrutinized his niece's 
 countenance, but it baffled him, as on the first night of his arri- 
 val ; the serene, colorless face showed not the slightest symptom 
 of emotion of any kind. Neither spokd till they approached the 
 cottage on the road-side, then she extended her hand and said, 
 Lidifferently : 
 
 " Your European acquaintance, the quondam secretary, for- 
 merly lived in that little three-roomed house hid among the vines 
 yonder." 
 
 " When I spoke of him this morning, you did not mention hav- 
 
192 MACAEIA ; OR, 
 
 ing known him. I inferred from your manner that he was a 
 stranger to you." 
 
 *' He is a stranger now. I knew him long ago, when we were 
 children, and met him to-day for the first time in some years." 
 
 " There is something peculiarly commanding in his appearance^ 
 He impresses me with respect and involuntary admiration, such 
 as no man of his age ever excited before, and I have traveled 
 far and wide, and have seen the lordliest of many lands." • 
 
 " Years have greatly changed him. He is less like his mo- 
 ther than when I knew him in his boyhood." 
 
 " He is an orphan, I learned from Campbell." 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 She pulled the check-cord, and, as the driver stopped, she 
 leaned out of the window, pointing to a mossy tuft on the mar- 
 gin of the Uttle brook just at the foot of the hill. 
 
 " Andrew, if you are not afraid to leave your horses, get me 
 that cluster of violets just this side of the sweet-gum tree. They 
 are the very earliest I have seen." 
 
 He gathered them carefully and placed them in the daintily- 
 gloved, out-stretched hand. She bent over them an instant, then 
 divided the tiny bunch with her uncle, saying : 
 
 " Spring has opened its blue eyes at last." 
 
 She met his searching gaze as calmly as the flowerets, and as 
 they now neared the house he forbore any further allusion to the 
 subject, which he shrewdly suspected engaged her thoughts quite 
 as fully as his own. 
 
 ch'apter xyii. 
 
 " Irene, it is past midnight.^' 
 She gave no intimation of having heard hun. 
 " Irene, my child, it is one o'clock." 
 
 Without looking up, she raised her hand toward the clock on 
 the mantel, and answered, coldly : 
 
ALTAKS OF SACRIFICE. 193 
 
 " You need not sit up to tell me the time of night ; I have a 
 clock here. Go to sleep, uncle iEric." 
 
 He rested his shoulder against the door-facing, and, leaning on 
 his crutches, watched her. , 
 
 She sat there just as he had seen her several times before, with 
 hor arms crossed on the table, the large celestial globe drawn 
 uear, astronomical catalogues scattered about, and a thick folio 
 open before her. She wore a loose wrapper, or robe de chambrc, 
 of black velvet, lined with crimson silk and girded with a heavy 
 cord and tassel. The sleeves were very full, and fell away from 
 the arms, exposing them from the dimpled elbows, and rendering 
 their pearly whiteness more apparent by contrast with the sable 
 hue of the vedvet, while the broad round collar was pressed 
 smoothly down, revealing the polished turn of the throat. The 
 ivory comb lay on the table, and the unbound hair, falling 
 around her shoulders, swept over the back of her chair and 
 trailed on the carpet. A miracle of statuesque beauty was his 
 queenly niece, yet he could not look at her without a vagne feel- 
 ing of awe, of painful apprehension ; and, as he stood watching 
 her motionless figure, in its grand yet graceful ^;«5e, he sighed 
 involuntarily. She rose, shook back her magnificent hair, and 
 approached him. Her eyes, so like deep, calm azure lakes, 
 crossed by no ripple, met his, and the clear, pure voice echoed 
 through the still room. 
 
 " Uncle Eric, I wish you would not sit up on my account ; I 
 do not like to be watched." 
 
 " Irene, your father forbade your studying until this hour. 
 You will accomplish nothing but the ruin of your health." 
 
 " How do you know that ? Do statistics prove astronomers 
 short-lived ? Rather the contrary. I commend you to the con- 
 templation of their longevity. Good-night, uncle ; starry dreams 
 to you." 
 
 " Stay, child ; what object have you in view in all this labori- 
 ous investigation ?" 
 
 " Are you sceptical of the possibility of a devotion to science 
 merely for science-sake ? Do my womanly garments shut me 
 out of the Holy of Holies, debar me eternally from sacred 
 
 9 
 
194 macaria; or, 
 
 arcana, think you ? Uncle Eric, once for all, it is not my aim 
 to — 
 
 -brush ■witli extreme flounce 
 
 The circle of the sciences." 
 
 I take my heart, my intellect, my life, and offer all upon the altar 
 of its penetralia. You men doubt women's credentials for work 
 like mine ; but this intellectual bigotry and monopoly already 
 trembles before the weight of stern and positive results which 
 women lay before you — data for your speculations — alms for 
 your calculation. In glorious attestation of the truth of female 
 capacity to grapple with some of t":;e most recondite problems of 
 science stand tlie names of Caroline Herschel, Mary Somerville, 
 Maria Mitchell, Emma Willard, Mrs. Phelps, and the proud 
 compliment paid to Madame Lepaute by Clairant and Lalaude, 
 who, at the successful conclusion of their gigantic computations, 
 declared : ' The assistance rendered by her was such that, with- 
 out her, we never should have dared to undertake the enormous 
 labor in which it was necessary to calculate the distance of each 
 of the two i^lanets, Jupiter and Saturn, from the comet, separ- 
 ately for every degree, for one hundred and fifty years.' Uncle 
 Eric, remember — 
 
 " ^Vhoso cures the plague, 
 
 Though twice a vroman, shall be called a leech; 
 
 Who rights a land's finances, is excused 
 
 For touching coppers, though her hands be white." 
 
 She took the volume she had been reading, selected several 
 catalogues from the mass, and, lighting a small lamp, passed her 
 uncle and mounted the spiral staircase leading to the observatory. 
 He watched her tall form slowly ascending, and, in the flashing 
 light of the lamp she carried, her black dress and floating hair 
 seemed to belong to some veritable Urania — some ancient 
 Egyptic Berenice. He heard her open the glass door of the ob- 
 servatory, then the flame vanished, and the click of the lock fell 
 down the dark stau'way as she turned the key. With a heavy 
 sigh the cripple returned to his room, there to ponder the singu- 
 lar character of the woman whom he had just left, and to dream 
 
ALTAKS OF SACKIFICE. 195 
 
 that he saw licr transplanted to the constellations, her blue eyes 
 brightening into stars, lier waving hair braiding itself out into 
 briUiant rushing comets. The night was keen, still, and cbudless, 
 and, as Irene locked herself in, the chill from tlie marble tiles crept 
 through the carpet to her slippered feet. In the centre of the 
 apartment rose a wooden shaft bearing a brass plate, and to this a 
 telescope was securely fastened. Two chairs and an old-fashioned 
 oaken table, with curious carved legs, comprised the furniture. 
 She looked at the small side-rial clock, and finding that a quar- 
 ter of an hour must elapse before she could make the desired ol> 
 servation, drew a chair to the table and seated herself. She 
 took from the drawer a number of loose papers, and prepared 
 the blank book for registering the observation ; then laid before 
 her a slate covered with figures, and began to run over the cal- 
 culation. At the close of fifteen minutes she placed herself at 
 the telescope, and waited patiently for the appearance of ^ small 
 star which gradually entered the field ; she noted the exact mo- 
 ment and position, transferred the result to the register, and after 
 a time went back to the slate and figures. Cautiously she went 
 over the work, now and then having recourse to pen and paper ; 
 she reached the bottom of the slate and turned it over, moving 
 one finger along the lines. The solution was wrong ; a mistake 
 had been made somewhere ; she pressed her palm on her fore- 
 head, and thought over the whole question ; then began again. 
 The work was tedious, the calculation subtle, and she attached 
 great importance to the result ; the second examination was 
 fruitless as the first ; time was wearing away ; where could the 
 error be ? Without hesitation she turned back for the third 
 time, and commenced at the first, slowly, patiently threading the 
 maze. Suddenly she paused and smiled ; there was the mistake, 
 glaring enough, now. She corrected it, and working the sum 
 through, found the result perfectly accurate, according fully with 
 the tables of Leverrier by which she was computing. She care- 
 fully transferred the operation from slate to paper, and, after 
 numbering the problem with great particularity, placed all in the^ 
 drawer, and turned the key. It was three o'clock ; she opened 
 the door, drew her chair out on the little gallery, and sat down, 
 
196 macaria; or, 
 
 looking toward the east. The air was crisp but still, unswayed 
 by current waifs ; no sound swept its crystal waves save the low, 
 monotonous distant thunder of the falls, and the deep, cloudless 
 blue ocean of space glowed with its numberless argosies of stel- 
 lar worlds. Constellations which, in the purple twilight, stood 
 sentinel at the horizon, had marched in majesty to mid-heaven, 
 taken reconnoisance thence, and as solemnly passed the opposite 
 horizon to report to watching gazers in another hemisphere. 
 *' Scouts stood upon every headland, on every plain ;" merciless- 
 ly the inquisitorial eye of science followed the heavenly wander- 
 ers ; there was no escape from the eager, sleepless police who 
 kept vigil in every clime and country ; as well call on Bootes to 
 give o'er his care of Ursa-Major, as hopelessly attempt to thrust 
 him from tlie ken of Cynosura. From her earliest recollection, 
 and especially from the hour of entering school, astronomy and 
 mathematics had exerted an over-mastering influence upon Irene's 
 mind. Tiie ordinary text-books only increased her interest in 
 the former science, and while in New York, with the aid of the 
 professor of astronomy, she had possessed herself of all the most 
 eminent works bearing upon the subject, sending across the At- 
 lantic for tables and selenographic charts, which were not to be 
 procured in America. 
 
 Under singularly favorable auspices she had pursued her stu- 
 dies perseveringly, methodically, and, despite her father's prohi- 
 bition, indefatigably. He had indulged, in earlier years, a pen- 
 chant for the same science, and cheerfully facilitated her progress 
 by rearranging the observatory so as to allow full play for her 
 fine telescope ; but, though proud of her proficiency, he objected 
 most strenuously to her devoting so large a share of her time 
 and attention to this study, and had positively interdicted all ob- 
 servations after twelve o'clock. Most girls patronize certain 
 branches of investigation with fitful, spasmodic vehemence, or 
 periodic impulses of enthusiasm ; but Irene knew no intermission 
 of interest, she hurried over no details, and, when the weather 
 permitted, never failed to make her nightly visit to the observa- 
 tory. She loved her work as a painter his canvas, or the sculp- 
 tor the marble one day to enshrine his cherished ideal ; and she 
 
AJ.TARS OF SACRIFICE. 197 
 
 prosecuted it, not as a mere pastime, not as a toy, but as a life- 
 long labor, for the labor's sake. To-iiight, as her drooping 
 palms nestled to each other, ajid her eyes searched the vast jew- 
 elled dome above, thought, unwearied as the theme it pondered, 
 flew back to the dim gray dawn of Time, "When the morning- 
 stars sang together, and all the sons of Go'd shouted for joy." 
 In panoramic vision she crossed the dusty desert of centuries, 
 and watched with Chaldean shepherds the pale, sickly light of 
 waning moons on Shinar's plains ; welcomed the gnomon (first- 
 born of the great family of astronomic apparatus) ; toiled over 
 and gloried in the Zaros ; stood at the armillary sphere of Ju, 
 in the days of Confucius ; studied with Thales, Anaximander, and 
 Pythagoras ; entered the sacred precincts of the school of Cro- 
 tona, hand in hand with Damo, the earliest woman who bowed 
 a devotee at the starry shrine, and, with her, was initiated into 
 its esoteric doctrines ; puzzled with Meton over his lunar cycle ; 
 exulted in Hipparchus' gigantic labor, the first collection of ta- 
 bles, the earliest reliable catalogues ; walked through the Alex- 
 andrine school of savans, misled by Ptolemy ; and bent with 
 Uliegh Beigh over the charts at Samarcand. In imagination 
 she accompanied Copernicus and Tycho-Brahe, and wrestled with 
 Kepler in the Titanic struggle that ended in the discovery of the 
 magnificent trinity of astronomic laws framed by the Divine 
 Architect when the first star threw its faint shimmer through the 
 silent wastes of space. Kepler's three laws were an unceasing 
 wonder and joy to her, and with fond, womanly pride she was 
 wont to recur to a lonely observatory in Silesia, where, before 
 Newton rose upon the world, one of her own sex, Maria Cunitz, 
 launched upon the stormy sea of scientific literature the '' Ura- 
 nia FropitiaP The Congress of Lilienthal possessed far more 
 of interest to her than any which ever sat in august council over 
 the fate of nations, and the names of Herschel, Bessel, Argelan- 
 der, Struve, Arago, Leverrier, and Maedler were sacred as Per- 
 sian telefin. From the "Almagest" of Ptolemy, and the " Co- 
 metographie of Pingre," to the " Mecanique Celeste," she had 
 searched and toiled ; and now the sublime and almost bewilder- 
 ing speculations of Maedler held her spell-bound. The delicate, 
 
198 MACARIA ; OR, 
 
 subtle, beautiful problem of parallax had heretofore exerted the 
 strongest fascination over her ; but this magnificent hypothesis 
 of a " central sun/' from the monarch of computations at Dor- 
 pat, seized upon her imagination with painful tenacity. From 
 the hour when Kepler stretched out his curious fingers, feeling 
 for the' shape of planetary orbits, or Leverrier groped through 
 abysses of darkness for the unknown Neptuna, which a sceptical 
 world declared existed only in his mathematical calculations, no 
 such daring or stupendous speculation had been breathed as this 
 which Maedler threw down from his Russian observatory. Night 
 after night she gazed upon the pleiades, singling out Alcyone, 
 the brilliant central sun of the mighty astral system, whose light 
 met her eager eyes after the long travel of five hundred and thir- 
 ty-seven years ; and, following in the footsteps of the great 
 speculator, she tried to grasp the result, that the period of one 
 revolution of our sun and system around that glittering centre 
 was eighteen million two hundred thousand years. 
 
 The stony lips of geology asserted that our globe was growing 
 old, thousands of generations had fallen f\sleep in the bosom of 
 mother earth, the ashes of centuries had gathered upon the past, 
 were creeping over the present ; and yet, in the face of cata- 
 combs, and mummies, and mouldering monuments, chiseled in the 
 infancy of the human race, mathematics unrolled her figured 
 scroll, and proclaimed that Time had but begun ; that chiliasms 
 must elapse, that aeons on iKons must roll away, before the firet 
 revolution of the starry universe could be completed about its 
 far-off Alcyone centre. What mattered human labors, what 
 need of trophies of genius, of national grandeur, or individual 
 glory ? Eighteen millions of years would level all in one huge, 
 common, shapeless ruin. In comparison with the mighty 
 mechanism of the astral system, the solar seemed a mere tiny 
 cluster of jewels set in some infinite abyss ; the sun shrank into 
 insignficance, the moon waned, the planets became little gleam- 
 ing points of light, such as her diamond ring threw off when lield 
 under gas-chandeliers. Perish the microcosm in the limitless 
 macrocosm, and sink the feeble earthly segregate in the bound- 
 less, rushing, choral aggregation ! She was oppressed by the 
 
ALTARS OF BACRIFICK. 199 
 
 stupendous nature of the problem ; Iiumau reason and imagina- 
 tion reeled under the rastness of the subject which they essayed 
 to contemplate and measure ; and to-night as she pondered in 
 silent awe the gigantic, overwhelming laws of God's great Cos- 
 mos, by some subtle association there flashed upon her memory 
 the sybillic inscription on the Temple of Neith at Sais : " I am all 
 that has been, all that is, all that will be. Xo mortal has ever rais- 
 ed the veil which conceals me ; and the fruit I have produced is 
 the sun." Had Maedler, with telescopic insight, climbed by 
 mathematical ladders to the starry adyta of nature, and triumph- 
 antly raised the mystic veil ? With a feeling of adoration which 
 no language could adequately convey, she gazed upon nebulae, 
 and suns, and systems ; and with the solemn reflection that some, 
 like Cassiopeia's lost jewel, might be perishing, wrapped in the 
 last conflagration, while their light still journeyed to her, she 
 recalled the feverish yet sublime vision of the great German 
 dreamer : " Once we issued suddenly from the middle of thickest 
 night into an aurora borealis — the herald of an expiring world — 
 and we found throughout this cycle of solar systems, that a day 
 of judgment had indeed arrived. The suns had sickened, and 
 the planets were heaving, rocking, yawning in convulsions ; the 
 subterraneous waters of the great deeps were breaking up, and 
 lightnings that were ten diameters of a world in length ran along 
 from zenith to nadir ; and, here and there, where a sun should have 
 been, we saw, instead, througli the misty vapor, a gloomy, ashy- 
 leaden corpse of a solar body, that sucked in flames from the 
 
 perishing world, but gave out neither light nor heat 
 
 Then came eternities of twilight that revealed but were not 
 revealed ; on the right hand and on the left towered mighty 
 constellations, that by self-repetitions and answers from afar, 
 that by counter-positions built up triumphal gates, whose 
 architraves, whose archways— horizontal upright— rested, rose 
 at altitude by spans— that seemed ghostly from infinitude. 
 Without measure were the architraves, past number were the 
 archways, beyond memory the gates. Suddenly, as thus we 
 rode from infinite to infinite, and tilted over abyssmal worlds, a 
 mighty cry arose, that systems more mysterious, that worlds 
 
200 MACARIA ; OE, 
 
 more billowy, other heights and other depths, were coming, ft-ere 
 nearing, were at hand. Then the angel ^threw up his glorious 
 hands to the heaven of heavens, saying : * End is there none to • 
 the universe of God. Lo ! also, there is no beginning !"' 
 
 Among the mysteries of the Crotoua school the Samian sage 
 had taught the " music of the spheres," and to-night Irene dwelt 
 upon the thought of that grand choir of innumerable worlds, that 
 mighty orchestra of starry systems, 
 
 " Where, through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault, 
 The pealing anthem swells the note of praise'' 
 
 unceasingly to the Lord of glory, till her firm lips relaxed, and 
 the immortal words of Shakspeare fell slowly from them : 
 
 " Look how the floor of heaven 
 Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold ; 
 There's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st, '^ 
 
 But iu his motion like an angel sings, 
 Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubims. 
 Such harmony is in immortal souls ; 
 But whilst this muddy vesture of decay 
 Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it.'' 
 
 That the myriad members of the shining archipelago were peo 
 pled with orders of intelligent beings, differing from our race 
 even as the planets differ in magnitude and physical structure, 
 she entertained not a doubt ; and as feeble fancy struggled to 
 grasp and comprehend the ultimate destiny of the countless hosts 
 of immortal creatures, to which our earthly races, with their dis- 
 tinct, unalterable types, stood but as one small family circle amid 
 clustering w»orlds, her wearied brain and human heart bowed 
 humbly, reverently, worshipingly l)efore the God of Revelation, 
 who can " bind the sweet influences of Pleiades, or loose the 
 bands of Orion ; bring forth Mazzaroth in his season, and guide 
 Arcturus with his sons." Kneeling there, with the twinkling 
 liuht of stars upon her up-turned face, she prayed earnestly for 
 strength, and grace, and guidance from on High, that she might 
 so hve and govern herself that, when the season of earthly pro- 
 bation ended, she could fearlessly pass to her eternal home, and 
 joyfully meet the awful face of Jehovah. 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 2Ul 
 
 The night was almost spent ; she knew from the " celestial 
 clock-work" that Day bUished just behind the horizon ; that, ere" 
 long, silver-gray fingers would steal up the quiet sky, parting the 
 sable curtains ; and, taking the lamp, she hung the observatory 
 key upon her girdle, and glided noiselessly down the stairway to 
 her own apartment. 
 
 Paragon slept on the threshold, and raised his head to gretf 
 lier ; she stooped, stroked his silky ears, and closed the door, 
 shutting liim out. Fifteen minutes later she, too, was sleeping 
 soundly ; and an hour and a half afterward, followed by that 
 faithful guardian " dweller of the threshold" she swept down the 
 steps, and, amid the matin chant of forest birds, mounted Erebus, 
 and dashed off at full gallop for the customary ride. No matter 
 what occurred to prevent her sleeping, she invariably rode be- 
 fore breakfast when the weather permitted ; and as her midnight 
 labors left few hours for repose, she generally retired to her 
 room immediately after dinner and indulged in the luxury of a 
 two hours' nap. Such was a portion of the regimen she had pre- 
 scribed for herself on her return from school, and which she suf- 
 fered only the inclemency of the weather to infringe. 
 
 CHAPTER XYIII. 
 
 " Surely, uncle Eric, there is room enough in this large, airy 
 house of ours to accommodate my mother's brother 1 I thought 
 it was fully settled that you were to reside with us. There is no 
 good reason why you should not. Obviously, we have a better 
 claim upon you than anybody else ; why doom yourself to the 
 loneliness of a separate' household ? Reconsider the matter." 
 
 " No, Irene ; it is better that I should have a quiet little 
 home of my own, free from the inevitable restraints incident to 
 residing under the roof of another. My recluse nature and ha- 
 bits unfit me for the gay young associates who throng this 
 house, making carnival-time of all seasons." 
 
 9* 
 
202 macaria; or, 
 
 " I will change the library, and give you two rooms on this 
 •floor, to avoid stair-steps ; I will build you a wall of partition, 
 and have your doors and windows hermetically sealed against 
 intrusion. iS'o sound of billiard-ball, or dancing feet, or noisy 
 laughter shall invade your sanctuary. Xot St. Simeon,, of isola- 
 ted memory, could desire more complete seclusion and solitude 
 ftlan that with which I shall indulge you.^^ 
 
 " It is advisable that I should go." 
 
 " I appreciate neither the expediency nor necessity." 
 
 " Like all other crusty, self-indulgent bachelors, I have many 
 whims, which I certainly do not expect people to bear pa- 
 tiently." 
 
 " You are neither crusty nor self-indulgent, that I have disco- 
 vered ; as for your whims, I have large charity, and will humor 
 them." 
 
 " Irene, I want a house of my own, to which I can feel privi- 
 leged to invite such guests, such companions, as I deem conge- 
 nial, irrespective of the fiats of would-be social autocrats, and the 
 social ostracism of certain cliques." 
 
 She was silent a moment, but met his keen look without the 
 slightest embarrassment, and yet when she spoke he knew, from 
 her eyes and voice, that she fully comprehended his meaning. 
 
 " Of course, it is a matter which you must determine for your- 
 self. You are the best judge of what conduces to your happi- 
 ness ; but I am sorry, very sorry, uncle Eric, that, in order to 
 promote it, you feel it necessary to remove from our domestic 
 circle. I shall miss you painfully." 
 
 " Pardon me, but I doubt the last clause. You lean on no 
 one sufi&cieutly to note the absence of their support." 
 
 " Do you recognize no difference between a parasitic clinging 
 and an affectionate friendship, a valued companionship based on 
 congenial tastes and sympathies ?" 
 
 " Unquestionably, I admit and appreciate the distinction ; 
 but you do not meet me full-eyed, open-handed, on this common 
 platform of congeniality, strengthened as it is, or should be, by 
 near relationship. You confront me always with your emotional 
 nature mail-clad, and' make our intercourse a mere intellectual 
 
ALTARS OF »ACliIFlCE. 203 
 
 fencing-match. Now, mark you, I have no wish to force your 
 confidence ; that is a curious and complex lock, which only the 
 golden key of perfect love and trust should ever open ; and I sim- 
 ply desire to say that your constitutional reticence or habitual 
 reserve precludes the hope of my rendering you either assistance 
 or sympathy by my continued presence." 
 
 " Uncle Eric, it arises from no want of trust in you, but in 
 the consciousness that only I can help myself. I have more 
 than once heard you quote Wallenstein ; have you so soon for- 
 gotten his words : 
 
 " ' Permit her own will. 
 For there are sorrows. 
 Where, of necessity, the soul must be 
 Its own support. A strong heart will rely 
 On its own strength alone.' '' 
 
 " But, my dear girl, you certainly are no Thekla ?" 
 
 Was there prescience in his question, and a quick recognition 
 of it in the quiver which ran across her lips and eyelids ? 
 
 '' The fates forbid that I should ever be I" 
 
 " Irene, in the name and memory of your mother, promise me 
 one thing ; that if sorrows assail you, and a third party can 
 bear aught on his shoulders you will call upon me." 
 
 " A most improbable conjunction of circumstances ; but, in 
 such emergency, I promise to afflict you with a summons to 
 the rescue. Uncle Eric, I think I shall never gall any shoulders 
 but my own with the burdens which God may see fit to lay on 
 them in the coming years." 
 
 He loo-ked pained, puzzled and irresolute ; but she smiled, and 
 swept her fingers over the bars of her bird-cage, toying with its 
 golden-throated inmate. 
 
 " Have you any engagement for this morning ?" 
 
 " None, sir. What can I do for you ?" 
 
 " If you feel disposed, I shall be glad to have you accompany 
 me to town ; I want your assistance m selecting a set of china 
 for my new home. Will you go ?" 
 
 A shadow drifted over the colorless tranquil face, as she said, 
 sadly : 
 
2Ui MACARIA ; OK, 
 
 " Uncle Eric, is it utterly useless for mo to attempt to per- 
 suade you to relinquish this project, and remain with us ?" 
 
 " Utterly useless, ray dear child." 
 
 " I will get my bonnet, and join you at the carriage." 
 
 Yery near the cottage formerly occupied by Mrs. Aubrey 
 stood a small brick house, partially concealed by poplar and sy- 
 camore trees, and surrounded by a neat, well arranged, flower- 
 garden. This was the place selected and purchased by the crip- 
 ple for his future home. Mr. Huntingdon had opposed the 
 whole proceeding, and invited his brother-in-law to reside with 
 him ; but beneath the cordial surface the guest felt that other 
 sentiments rolled deep and strong. He had little in common 
 with his sister's husband, and only a warm and increasing affec- 
 tion for his niece now induced hini to settle in W ■ — . Some 
 
 necessary repairs had been made, some requisite arrangements 
 completed regarding servants, and to-day the finishing touches 
 were given to the snug liUle batchelor establishment. When it 
 was apparent that no arguments would avail to alter the de- 
 cision, Irene ceased to speak of it, and busied herself in various 
 undertakings to promote her uncle's comfort. She made pretty 
 white curtains for his library windows, knitted bright-colored 
 worsted lamp-mats, and hemmed and marked the contents of the 
 linen-closet. The dining-room pantry she took under her special 
 charge, and at the expiration of ten days, when the master took 
 formal possession, she accompanied him, and enjoyed the pleased 
 surprise with which he received her donation of cakes, preserves, 
 catchups, pickles, etc., etc., neatly stowed away on the spotless 
 shelves. 
 
 '' I shall make a weekly pilgrimage to this same pantry, and 
 take an inventory of its contents. I intend to take good care of 
 you, though you have moved off, Diogenes-like." 
 
 She stepped forward, and arranged some glass jars which 
 stood rather irregular. 
 
 " How prim and old-maidish you are I" laughed her uncle. 
 
 " I never could bear to see things scattered in that helter- 
 skelter style ; I hke bottles, jars, plates and dishes drilled into 
 straight lines not leaning in and out, in that broken rank fashion. 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 205 
 
 I am not given to boasting, but I will say that no housekeeper 
 can show a nicer, neater pantry than my own." 
 
 "What have you in tliat basket ?" 
 
 " Flowers from the green-house. Come into the library, and 
 let me dress your new vases." 
 
 He followed her into the next room, and watched her as she 
 leisurely and tastefully disposed her flowers ; now searching the 
 basket for a sprig of ever-green, and now bending obstinate stems 
 to make stiff -clusters lean lovingly to each other. Placing the 
 vases on the mantle, she stepped back to inspect the effect, and 
 said, gravely : 
 
 " How beautiful they are ! Let me always dress your vases, 
 uncle. Women have a knack of intertwining stems and groni> 
 ing colors ; our fingers were ordained for all such embroidery on 
 the coarse gray serge of stern, practical every-day life. Yon 
 men are more at home with state papers, machine shops, navies, 
 armies, political economy, and agricultural chemistry, than with 
 fragile azaleas and golden-dusted lilies." Before he could reply 
 she turned, and asked : 
 
 " What do those large square boxes in the hall contain ?" 
 
 " Books which I gathered in Europe and selected in New 
 York ; among them many rare old volumes, which you have 
 never seen. Come down next Monday, and help me to number 
 and shelve them ; afterward, we will read them together. Lay 
 aside your bonnet, and spend the evening with me." 
 
 " Xo, I must go back ; Hugh sent me word that he would 
 bring company to tea." , 
 
 He took her hand, and drew her close to his chair, saying, 
 gently : 
 
 " Ah, Irene ! I wish I could keep you always. You would 
 be happier here, in this little unpretending home of mine, than 
 presiding as mistress over that great palatial house on the hill 
 yonder." 
 
 " There you mistake me most entirely. I love, better than 
 any other place on earth, my stately, elegant, beautiful home. 
 Not Fontainebleau, Windsor, Potsdam ; not the vineyards of 
 Shiraz, or the gardens of Damascus, could win me from it. I 
 
206 MACARIA ; OR, 
 
 love every tree, every creeper, every foot of grouud from the 
 front gate to the brink of the creek. If you suppose that I am 
 not happy there, you err egregiously." 
 
 " My intuitions rarely deceive me." 
 
 *' At least, uncle Eric, they play you false in this instance. 
 Why, sir, I would not give my grand old avenue of primeval 
 elms for St. Peter's nave. Your intuitions are full of cobwebs ; 
 have them well swept and dusted before I see you Monday. 
 Good-night, uncle ; I must really go. li you find we have for- 
 gotten anything, send Willis up for it." 
 
 He kissed her fingers tenderly, and, taking her basket, she left 
 him alone in his new home. 
 
 A few weeks passed without incident ; Hugh went to New 
 Orleans to visit friends, and Mr. Huntingdon was frequently ab- 
 sent at the plantation. 
 
 One day he expressed the desire that Judge Harris' family 
 should dine with him, and added several gentlemen, " to make 
 the party merry." Irene promptly issued the invitations, sup- 
 pressing the reluctance which filled her heart ; for the young 
 people were not favorites, and she dreaded Charlie's set speeches 
 and admiruig glances, not less than his mother's endless disquisi- 
 tions on fashion and the pedigree of all the best families of 
 
 W and its vicinage. Grace had grown up very pretty, 
 
 highly accomplished, even-tempered, gentle-hearted, but full of 
 her mother's fashionable notions, and, withal, rather weak and 
 frivolous. Slie and Irene were constantly thrown into each oth- 
 er's society, but no warmth of feeling existed on either side. 
 Grace could not comprehend her companion's character, and 
 Irene wearied of her gay, heedless chit-chat. As the latter an- 
 ticipated, the day proved very tiresome ; the usual complement 
 of music was contributed by Grace, the expected quantity of 
 flattering nothings gracefully uttered by her brother, the custo- 
 mary amount of execrable puns handed around the circle for pat- 
 ronage, and Irene gave the signal for dinner. Mr. Huntingdon 
 prided himself on his fine wines, and, after the decanters had cir- 
 culated freely, the gentlemen grew garrulous as market-women. 
 
 Irene was gravely discussing the tariff question with Mr. Her- 
 
ALTARS OF SACRU'ICE. 207 
 
 bert Blackwell (whom Mrs. Ilurris pronounced the m<jst prom- 
 ising young lawyer of her acquaintance), and pohtcly listening 
 to his stereotyped reasoning, when a scrap of conversation at the 
 opposite end of the table attracted her attention. 
 
 " Huntingdon, my dear fellow, I tell you I never made a mis- 
 take in my life, when reading people's minds ; and if Aubrey has 
 
 not the finest legal inteflect in W , I will throw up my 
 
 judgeship. You have seen Campbell, I suppose ? He returned 
 last week, and, by the way, I half-expected to meet him to-day ; 
 well, I was talking to him about Aubrey, and he laughed his 
 droll, chuckling laugh, snapped his bony fingers in my face, and 
 said : 
 
 "Aye ! aye, Harris, let him alone ; hands off I and I will 
 wager my new office against your old one that he steps into your 
 honor's shoes. IS'ow you know perfectly well that Campbell has 
 no more enthusiasm than a brick wall, or a roll of red tape ; but 
 he is as proud of the young man as if he were his son. Do you 
 know that he has taken him into partnership ?" 
 "Pshaw ! he will never commit such ^fauxpasP 
 " But he has ; I read the notice in this morning's paper. Pass 
 the madeira. The fact is, we must not allow our old prejudices 
 to make us unjust. I know Aubrey has struggled hai-d ; he had 
 
 much to contend P 
 
 " Hang Campbell and the partnership I He will find that he 
 has played the fool, before he gets rid of his precious pet. Miss 
 Grace, do let me fill your glass ? My young prude there at the 
 head of the table just sips hers as if she feared it was poisoned. 
 Mrs. Harris, you have no sherry ; permit me." 
 
 "The young man's antecedents are most disgraceful, Mr. 
 Huntingdon, and I told the judge last night that I was surprised 
 at Mr. Campbell's infatuation," chimed in Mrs. Harris over her 
 golden sherry. 
 
 " Whose antecedents, mother ?" 
 
 " My dear, we were speaking of Russell Aubrey, and the stig- 
 ma on his name and character." 
 
 " Oh, yes I His father was sentenced to be hung, I believe 
 and committed suicide in prison. But what a splendid, dark- 
 
208 MACARIA ; OR, 
 
 looking man he is ! Decidedly the most superb figure and eyea 
 
 in W . Shy, though ! shy as a school-girl ; will cross 
 
 the street to avoid meeting a body. When he finds that he can 
 not dodge you, he gives you the -full benefit of his magnificent 
 eyes, and bows as haughtily as Great Mogul. Maria Henderson 
 goes into raptures over his figure." 
 
 With head slightly inclined, and eyes fixed on Mr. Blackwell's 
 fiicc, Irene had heard all that passed, and as the gentleman 
 paused in his harangue to drain his glass, she rose and led the 
 way to the parlors. The gentlemen adjourned to the smoking- 
 room, and in a short time Mrs. Harris ordered her carriage, 
 pleading an engagement with Grace's mantua-maker as an ex- 
 cuse for leaving so early. With a feeling of infinite relief the 
 hostess accompanied them to the door, saw the carriage descend 
 the avenue, and, desiring one of the servants to have Erebus sad- 
 dled at once, she went to her room and changed the rich dinner- 
 dress for her riding-habit. As she sprang into the saddle, and 
 gathered up the reins, her father called from the open window, 
 whence issued curling wreaths of blue smoke : 
 
 " Where now, Irene ?" 
 
 " I am going to ride ; it threatened rain this morning, and I 
 was afraid to venture." 
 
 He said something, but without hearing she rode off, and was 
 soon out of sight, leaving the town to the left, and taking the 
 road that wound along the river-bank — the same where, years 
 before, she had cantered with Grace, Hugh, and Charlie. It 
 was a windless, sunny April afternoon ; trees were freshly robed 
 in new-born friugy foliage, green 'and glistening; long grassy 
 slopes looked like crinkled velvet, starred with delicate pale blue 
 houstonias ; wandering woodbine trailed its coral trumpets in 
 and out of grass and tangled shrubs, and late wood azaleas load- 
 ed the air with their delicious, intoxicating perfume. Irene felt 
 unwontedly depressed ; the day had wearied her ; she shook the 
 reins, and the beautiful horse sprang on in a quick gallop. For 
 a mile farther they dashed along the river bank, and then rein- 
 ing him up, she leaned forward and drew a long, deep breath. 
 The scene was surpassingly quiet and beautiful ; on either side 
 
ALTARS OF 9ACKTFTCE. 209 
 
 wooded hills came down, herd-like, to the edg-c of the streuni to 
 lave their thirsty sides, and listen to the continual solemn mono- 
 tone of the foaming falls ; here a small flock of sheep browsed on 
 the young waving grass, and there contented-looking cows, with 
 glossy satin skins, sauntered homeward, taking the road with as 
 much precision as their Swiss sisters to the tune of Ranz des 
 Vaches ; the broad river sweeping down its rocky pavement, 
 and, over all, a mellow April sky of intense blue, with whiffs of 
 creamy vapor, sinuous as floss silk. Close to the margin of the 
 river grew a luxuriant mass of ivy, and now the dark shining 
 foliage was flecked with tiny rosy buds, and well-blown waxen 
 petals, crimped into fairy-like cups, and tinted as no Sevres china 
 ever wiU be. Urging Erebus into the thicket, Irene broke as 
 many clusters as she could conveniently carry ; dragged a long 
 tangled wreath of late jasmine from its seclusion, fastened it 
 across the pommel of the saddle, and turned her horse's head 
 homeward. The sight of these ivy cups recalled the memory of 
 her aunt Margaret ; they had been her favorite flowers, and, as 
 thought now took another channel, she directed her way to the 
 grave-yard. She always rode rapidly, and, ere long, Erebus' 
 feet drew sparks from the rocky road leading up the hill-side to 
 the cemetery gate. Dismounting, she fastened the reins to one 
 of the iron spikes, and, gathering the folds of her habit over her 
 arm, carried her flowers to the family burying ground. It was 
 a large square lot, enclosed by a handsome railing and tall gate, 
 bearing the name of "Huntingdon" in silver letters. As she 
 approached, she was surprised to find a low brick wall and beau- 
 tiful new marble monument close to her father's lot, and occu- 
 pying a space which had been filled with grass and weeds a few 
 weeks previous. While she paused, wondering whose was the 
 new monument, and resolved to examine it, a tall form stepped 
 from behind the column, and stood, with folded arms, looking 
 dow!i at the grate. There was no mistaking face or figure ; evi- 
 dently he was unaware of her presence, though she was near 
 enough to mark the stern sorrow written on his countenance. 
 She glided forward and opened the heavy gate of her own en- 
 closure ; with difficulty she pushed it ajar, and with a sudden, 
 
210 MACAEIA ; OR, 
 
 sharp, clanging report it swung back, and the bolt slid to its 
 rusty place. He lifted his eyes then, and saw her standing a few 
 yards from him ; the rich soft folds of the Maria Louise blue 
 riding-dress trailed along the ground ; the blue velvet hat, with 
 its long drooping plume, had become loosened by the exercise, 
 and, slipping back, left fully exposed the dazzling white face and 
 golden glory of waving hair. She bowed, he returned the silent 
 token of recognition, and she moved forward to her aunt's tomb, 
 wreathing it with the flowers which Miss Margaret had loved so 
 well. The sun was low, leaning upon the purple crest of a dis- 
 tant hill ; the yellow light flashed over the forest of marble pil- 
 lars, and their cold polished surfaces gave back the waning glare, 
 throwing it off contemptuously, as if sunshine were a mockery in 
 that silent city of the dead. Sombre sacred guardian cedars ex- 
 tended their arms lovingly over the marble couches of fair young 
 sleepers in God's Acre, and venerable willows wept over many 
 a stela, whose inscription lichen-footed Time had effaced. Here 
 slept two generations of the Huutingdons, and the last scion of 
 the proud old house stood up among the hoarded bones of her 
 ancestry, glancing round at the moss-stained costly mausoleums, 
 and noting the fiict that the crowded lot had room for but two 
 more narrow beds — two more silent citizens — her father and her- 
 self. It was a reflection which she had little inclination to linger 
 over, anJ, retaining a beautiful cluster of ivy and jasmine, she 
 left the enclosure, keeping her eyes fixed on the ground. 
 
 As she passed the new lot the gate swung open, andRassell 
 stood before her. 
 
 " Good evening, Miss Huntingdon." 
 
 " Good evening, Mr. Aubrey." 
 
 The name sounded strange and harsh as she uttered it, and 
 involuntarily she paused and held out her hand. He accepted 
 it ; for an instant the cold fingers lay in his warm palm, and as 
 she withdrew them he said, in the rich mellow voice which she 
 had heard in the church : 
 
 '* Allow me to show you my mother's monument." 
 
 He held the gate open, and she entered and stood at his side. 
 The monument was beautiful in its severe simplicity — a pure, 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. _ 211 
 
 faultless shaft, crowned with a delicately chiselled wreath of poj> 
 pv leaves, and ))earing these words in gilt letters : " Sacred to 
 the memory of my mother, Amy Aubrey." Just below, iu black 
 characters, *' Rcsiirgam /" and, underneath the whole, on a 
 finely-fluted scroll, the inscription of St. Gilgen. After a silence 
 of some moments Russell pointed to the sin^lar and solemn 
 words, and said, as if speaking rather to himself than to her : 
 
 "I want to say always, with Paul Flemming, * I will be 
 strong,' and therefore I placed here the inscription which 
 proved an evangel to him, that when I come to my mother's 
 grave I may be strengthened, not melted, by the thronging of 
 bitter memories." ^ 
 
 She looked up as he spoke, and the melancholy splendor of the 
 deep eyes stirred her heart as nothing had ever done before. 
 
 " I have few flowers left ; let me lay them as an affectionate 
 tribute, an ' i7i memoricun^ on your mother's tomb — for the 
 olden time, the cottage days, are as fresh in my recollection as 
 iu yours." 
 
 She held out the woodland bouquet ; he took it, and strewed 
 the blossoms along the broad base of the shaft, reserving only a 
 small cluster of the rosy china cups. Both were silent ; but as she 
 turned to go, a sudden gust blew her hat from her head, the 
 loosened comb fell upon the grass, and down came the heavy 
 masses of hair. She twisted them hastily into a coil, fastened 
 them securely, and received her hat from him, with a cool : 
 
 " Thank you, sir ; when did you hear from Electra ?" 
 
 They walked on to the cemetery gate, and he answered : 
 
 "I have heard nothing for some weeks. Have you any mes- 
 sage ? I am going to New York in a few days to try to per- 
 suade her to return to W with m \" 
 
 " I doubt the success of your mission ; W has little to 
 
 tempt an artist like your cousin. Be kind enough to tender her 
 my love, and best wishes for the realization of her artistic 
 dreams." 
 
 They had reached the gate where Erebus w^aited, when Rus- 
 sell took off" his hat reverently, and pointed to the western sky 
 all " a flame." Masses of purple, scarlet, gold, amber, and pure 
 
212 MACARIA ; OR, ^ 
 
 pale opaline green blended in one magnificent conflagration ; and 
 toward the zenith tortuous feathery braids and flashes of blood- 
 red cirri, gleaming through the mild balmy air like coral reefe 
 in some breezeless oriental sea. 
 
 " No soft, neutral, sober ' Graise' there,' " said Irene, lifting 
 her hand to the glowing cloud-panorama. 
 
 lie took up the question promptly, and added : . 
 
 " 'The Angel of the Sea' is abroad on his immemorial mis- 
 sion, the soft wings droop still with dew, and the shadows of 
 their plumes falter on the hill ; strange laughings and glitterings 
 of silver streamlets, born suddenly and twined about the mossy 
 heights in trickling tinsel, answering to them as they wave. The 
 coiled locks of * hundred-headed Typhou ' leave no menace 
 yonder." 
 
 He paused, and turning suddenly, with a piercing look at his 
 companion, continued : 
 
 " Miss Huntingdon, ' on what anvils and wheels is the vapor 
 pointed, twisted, hammered, whirled as the potter's clay ? By 
 what hands is the incense of the sea built up into domes of 
 marble V " 
 
 " I see that you follow assiduously the beck of Nature's last 
 anointed hierophant, and go in and out with the seer, even 
 among the cherubim and seraphim of his metropolitan cathedral, 
 with its ' gates of rock, pavements of cloud, choirs of stream, 
 altars of snow, and vaults of puiple, traversed by the continual 
 stars.' " 
 
 " Yes ; I am a reverent student and warm admirer of John 
 Ruskin. I learned to love him first through the recommenda- 
 tion of my cousin ; then for his gorgeous, unapproachable word- 
 painting." 
 
 While they talked, the brilliant pageant faded, the coral banks 
 paled to snowy lines, as if the blue waves of air were foam- 
 crested, and in the valley below rose the dusky outline of the 
 dark-haired, wan-browed, gray-clad twilight, stealing her "sober 
 livery" over the flushed and fretted bosom of the murmuring 
 river. 
 
 " You have a long walk to town," said Irene, as Russell ar- 
 ranged her horse's reins. 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 213 
 
 " I shall not find it loiip:. It is a fine piece of road, and the 
 stars will be up to light it." 
 
 He held out his hand to assist her ; she sprang easily to the 
 saddle, then leaned toward him, every statue-like curve and 
 moulding of her proud ivory face stamping themselves on his re- 
 collection, as she spoke. 
 
 " Be so good as to hand me my glove ; I dropped it at yo«r 
 feet as I mounted. Thank you. Good evenihg, Mr. Aubrey ; 
 take my best wishes on your journey and its mission." 
 
 " Good-by, Miss Huntingdon." He raised his hat, and, as 
 she wheeled off, the magnetic handsome face followed, haunted 
 her. Erebus was impatient, out of humor, and flew up the next 
 steep hill as if he, too were haunted. Glancing back as she 
 reached the summit, Irene saw the erect, stern, solitary figure 
 at the extremity of the wooded vista, and in that mystical dim 
 light he looked a colossal avenging Yiking. 
 
 Once more, as in childhood, she heard the whirl of the loom 
 of destiny ; and to-night, catching sight of tlie Parcce fingers, 
 she knew that along the silver warp of her life ran dark alien 
 threads, interweaving all in one sliapeless tangled web. 
 
 On through gathering gloom dashed horse and rider, over the 
 little gurgling stream, through tlie gate, up the dark, rayless 
 avenue to the door-step. The billiard-room was a blaze of light, 
 and th^ cheerful sound of mingled voices came out at the open 
 wnndow, to tell that the gentlemen had not yet finished their game. 
 Pausing in the hall, Irene listened an instant to distinguish the 
 voices, then ascended the long easy stair-case. The lamp threw 
 a mellow radiance on the steps, and as she reached the landing 
 Hugh caught her in his arms, and kissed her warmly. Startled 
 by his unexpected appearance, she recoiled a step or two and 
 asked, rather haughtily : 
 " When did you get home ?" 
 
 " Only a few moments after you left the house. Do change 
 your dress quickly, and come down. I have a thousand things 
 to say." 
 
 She waited to hear no more, but disengaged herself and went 
 to her room. 
 
214 MAC ARIA ; OR, 
 
 " Now, child I why will yon do so ? What makes you stay 
 out so late, and then come thundering back like a hurricane ? I 
 never did like that horse's great big saucy, shining, devilish eyes. I 
 tell Andrew constantly I wish he would manage to break his 
 legs while he is jumping over all the fences on the place. You 
 scare me nearly to death about your riding ; I tell you, beauty, 
 that black satan will break your neck yet. Your grandfather 
 was flung from just such a looking brute, and dragged till he 
 was dead ; aud some day that everlasting long hair of yours will 
 drag you to your grave. Here it is now, all streaming down 
 your back ; yes — just as I expected — not a blessed hair-pin left 
 in it ; done galloped 'em all clean out. You will ride yourself 
 into eternity. Sit down, and let me comb it out ; it is all in a 
 tangle, like raveled yellow silk." 
 
 Nellie looked cloudy, moody, and her mistress offered no 
 resistance to her directions. 
 
 " Mas' Hugh's come." 
 
 "Yes ; I know it." 
 
 " But you don't know supper is almost ready, do you ? Pre- 
 sently you will hear your father's voice sounding like a brass 
 trumpet down stairs, if you ar'n't ready. There I John rings 
 that bell as if he had the dead to raise !" 
 
 " That will do, aunt Nellie, only give me a handkerchief." 
 
 She went down, and met her father at the dining room door. 
 
 " Come, Queen ; we are waiting for. you." 
 
 He looked at her fondly, took her hand, and drew her to the 
 table ; and, in after years, she recalled this occasion with mourn- 
 ful pleasure as the last on which he had ever given her his pet 
 
 name. 
 
 " . . . There are fatal days, indeed, 
 In which the fibrous years have taken root 
 So deeply, that they quiver to their tops 
 Whene'er you stir the dust of such a day." 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 215 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 " Come out on the colonade ; the air is delicious." As he 
 spoke, Hugh drew his cousin's arm through his, and led the way 
 from the tea-table. 
 
 " You had company to dine to-day ?" 
 
 " Yes ; if I had known that you were coming home to-day I 
 would have postponed the invitation till to-morrow. Grace ex- 
 pressed much disappointment at your absence." 
 
 " Indeed I Of course I am duly grateful. What a pretty, 
 sweet little creature she is 1 So sprightly, so vivacious, so winning; 
 so charmingly ignorant of 'Almacantar' and 'Azimutli,' and all 
 such learned stupidity. Unlike some royal personages of my 
 acquaintance, who are for ever soaring among the stars, she 
 never stretches ray brains the hundredth part of an inch to com- 
 prehend her delightful prattle. Like Dickens' ' Dora,' she 
 regards any attempt to reason with her as a greater insult than 
 a downright scolding. Your solemn worshiper was also present, 
 I believe ?" 
 
 " To whom do you allude ?" 
 
 *' Your tedious, tiresome pertinacious shadow, Herbert Black- 
 well, of course ! Do you know I detest that man most 
 cordially ?" 
 
 " For what reason ?" 
 
 " I really do not feel in the mood to enumerate all his peccadil- 
 loes and disagreeable traits ; but it is supremely ridiculous to 
 see the way in which he hovers round you, hke one of those 
 large black moths about the hall lamp." 
 
 " Come, come, Hugh ! Mr. Blackwell is a man whom I 
 respect and esteem, and you shall not make him a target for 
 your merriment." 
 
 " Oh, doubtless I my czarina ! and, as a reward for your 
 consideration, he would fain confer on you his distinguished hand 
 and fortune. It is quite a respectable farce to watch him watch- 
 ing you." 
 
216 MACARIA ; OK, 
 
 " I Wish you had a tithe of his industry and perseverance. 
 Did it ever occur to you that hfe is given for nobler purposes 
 and loftier aspirations than hunting, fishing, horse-racing, gamb- 
 ling, and similar methods of murdering time which you habitually 
 patronize ?" 
 
 " You are too young to play the role of Mentor, and those 
 rare red lips of yours were never meant for homilizing. Irene, 
 how long do you intend to keep me in painful suspense ?" 
 
 " I am not aware that I have in any degree 'kept you in sus- 
 pense." 
 
 " At all events, you know that you torture me with cool, de- 
 liberate cruelty." 
 
 " I deny your charge most solemnly." 
 
 " My dear Irie, let us understand each other fully, for " 
 
 "^ay, Hugh, be honest ; there is no misapprehension what- 
 ever. We thoroughly understand each other already." , 
 
 " You shall not evade me ; I have been patient, and the time 
 has come when we must talk of our future. Irene, dearest, be 
 generous, and tell rae when will you give me, irrevocably, this 
 hand which has been promised to me from your infancy ?" 
 
 He took the hand and carried it to his lips, but she forcibly 
 withdrew it, and, disengaging her arm, said, emphatically : 
 
 " Xever, Hugh. Xever.-' 
 
 " How can you trifle with me, Irene ? If you could realize 
 how impatient I am for the happy day when I shall call you my 
 wife, you would be serious, and fix an early period for our mar- 
 riage." 
 
 " Hugh, why will you affect to misconceive my meaning? I 
 am serious ; I have pondered, long and well, a matter involvmg 
 your life-long happiness and mine, and I tell you, most solemnly, 
 that I will never be your wife." 
 
 " Oh, Irene ! your promise I your sacred promise !" 
 
 " I never gave it ! On the contrary, I have never failed to 
 show you that my whole nature rebelled against the most unna- 
 tural relation forced upon me. I can not, shall not, hold myself 
 bound by the promise of another made when I was an uncon- 
 scious infant. I know the family compact, sealed by my father's 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 217 
 
 words, at your mother's death-bed, making two little irresponsi- 
 ble children parties to a thoroughly selfish, ignoble contract, 
 which is revolting to me. Your future and mine were adumbra' 
 ted from my cradle, and tliat which only we could legitimately 
 decide was usurped and predetermined. You have known, for 
 years, that I loathed the heartless betrothal and ignored its rc- 
 • strictions ; my unalterable determination was very apparent when 
 you returned from Europe. You were kept in no suspense ; you 
 understood me then as fully as now ; and it is ungenerous, un- 
 manly, to press a suit which you cannot fail to know is extremely 
 disagreeable to me." 
 
 " My dear Irene, have you, then, no love for me ? I have 
 hoped and believed that you hid your love behind your cold 
 mask of proud silence. You must, you do love me, my beautiful 
 cousin !'' 
 
 " You do not believe your own words ; you are obliged to 
 know better. I love you as my cousin, love you somewhat as I 
 love uncle Eric, love you as the sole young relative left to me, 
 as the only companion of my lonely childhood ; but other love 
 than this I never had, never can have for you. Hugh, my cou- 
 sin, look fearlessly at the unvarnished truth ; neither you nor I 
 have one spark of that affection which alone can sanction mar- 
 riage. We are utterly unlike in thought, taste, feeling, habits 
 of life, and aspirations ; I have no sympathy with vour pursuits 
 you are invariably afflicted with eiinid at the bare suggestion of 
 mme. Nature stamped us with relentless antagonisms of charac- 
 ter ; I bow to her decree, rather than to man's word. Dante 
 painted no purgatory dark enough to suit the wretchedness that 
 would result from such an unholy union as ours would be. 
 Think of it, Hugh ; a loveless marriage ; a mere moneyed part- 
 nership ; a sort of legal contract ; the only true union being of 
 bank stock, railroad shares, and broad plantations." She lean- 
 ed against one of the pillars with her arms folded, and a cold 
 merciless smile curling the beautiful mouth. 
 
 " Indeed, you wrong me, my worshiped cousin. You are 
 dearer to me than anything else on earth. I have loved you 
 
 Id 
 
218 MAC ARIA ; OR, 
 
 and you only, from my boyhood ; you have been a lovely idol 
 from earliest recollection." 
 
 " You are mistaken, most entirely mistaken ; I am not to be 
 deceived, neither can you hoodwink yourself. You like me, you 
 love me, in the same quiet way that I love you ; you admire 
 me, perhaps, more than any one you chance to know just no-w ; 
 you are partial to my beauty, and, from long habit, have come to 
 regard me as your property, much in the same light as that in 
 which you look upon your costly diamond buttons, or your high- 
 spirited horses, or rare imported pointers. After a fashion you 
 like me, Hugh ; I know you do ; and, my cousin, it would 
 be most lamentable and unnatural if you had not some affection 
 for me ; but love, such as a man should have for the woman whom 
 he makes his life-companion, and calls by the sacred name of wife, 
 you have not one atom of. I do not wish to wound you, but I 
 mus-t talk to you as any reasonable woman would on a question 
 of such great importance ; for I hold it no light thing for two 
 souls to burden themselves with vows which neither can possibly 
 perform. Hugh, I abhor sham I and I tell you now that I 
 never will be a party to that which others have arranged with- 
 out my consent." 
 
 " Ah ! I see how matters stand. Having disposed of your 
 heart, and lavished your love elsewhere, you shrink from fulfill- 
 ing the sacred obligations 4:hat make you mine. I little dream- 
 ed that you were so susceptible, else I had not left you feeling 
 so secure. My uncle has not proved the faithful guardian I be- 
 lieved him when I entrusted my treasure, my affianced bride to 
 his care." 
 
 Bitter disappointment flashed in his face and quivered in his 
 voice, rendering him reckless of consequences. But though he 
 gazed fiercely at her as he uttered the taunt, it produced not the 
 faintest visible effect ; the cloudless chiselled face still wore its 
 quiet smile of mild irony, and the low clear voice preserved its 
 sweetness. 
 
 " You do my father rank injustice, Hugh. Not Ladon was 
 more faithful or tireless than he has been." 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 219 
 
 " lie can not deny that tlie treasure has been stolen, neverthe- 
 less !" 
 
 " He probably can and will deny that the g:olden treasure has 
 been snatched from his guardianship. Another Atlas or a sec- 
 ond Hercules would be needed for such a theft." 
 . The application stung him ; he crimsoned, and retorted with 
 a degree of bitterness of which he was probably unconscious at 
 the moment : 
 
 " You, at least, dare not deny my charge, my truthful, con- 
 staxit Jiancee P' 
 
 " Either you over-estimate my supposed offence or under-rate 
 my courage ; there are few honorable things which I dare not 
 do." 
 
 " Confess, then, who stands between your heart and mine. I 
 have a right to ask ; I will know.'' 
 
 "You forget yourself, my cousin. Your right is obviously a 
 debatable question ; we will waive it, if you please. I have told 
 you already, and now I repeat it for the last time, I will not go 
 with you to the altar, because neither of us has proper affection 
 for the other to warrant such a union ; because it would be an 
 infamous pecuniary contract, revolting to every true soul. I do 
 not want your estate, and you should be content with your am- 
 ple fortune without coveting my inheritance, or consenting to sell 
 your manhood to mammon. I would not suit you for a wife ; go 
 find some more congenial spirit, some gentle, clinging girl, who 
 will live only in your love and make you forget all else in her 
 presence. I have no fancy for the Gehenna our married life 
 would inevitably prove. Henceforth there is no margin for mis- 
 apprehension ; understand that Ave meet in future as cousins, 
 only as cousins, acknowledging no other relationship, no other 
 tie save that of consanguinity ; for I do not hesitate to snap the 
 links that were forged in my babyhood, to annul the unrighteous 
 betrothal of other hands. Hugh, cherish no animosity against 
 me ; I merit none. Because we can not be more, shall we be 
 less than friends ?" > 
 
 She held out her hand, but he was too angry to accept it, and 
 asked, haughtily : 
 
 " Shall I break this pleasant piece of information to my un- 
 
220 MACAKIA ; OR, 
 
 cle ? Or do you feel quite equal to the task of blighting all his 
 long-cherished hopes, as well as mine ?" 
 
 " I leave it in jour hands ; consult your discretion, or your 
 pleasure ; to me it matters little. Remember my earnest re- 
 quest, that you bear me no malice in the coming years. Good- 
 night, my cousin." 
 
 She turned to leave him, but he caught her dress, and ex- 
 claimed, with more tenderness than he had ever manifested be- 
 fore : 
 
 "Oh, Irene ! do not reject me utterly ! I can not rehnquish 
 you. Give me one more year to prove my love ; to win yours. 
 If your proud heart is still your own, may I not hope to obtain 
 it, by ." 
 
 " No, Hugh I no. As well hope to inspire affection in yon- 
 der mute marble guardians. Forgive me if I pain you, but I 
 must be candid at every hazard." She pointed to the statues 
 near the door, and went through the green-house to the library, 
 thence to the observatory, expecting, ere long, to be joined by 
 her father. Gradually tho house became quiet, and, oppressed 
 -with the painful sense of coming trouble, she sought her own 
 room just as the clock struck twelve. Pausing to count the 
 strokes, she saw a light gleaming through the key-hole of her 
 father's door, opposite her own, and heard the sound of low but 
 earnest conversation mingled with the restless tramp of pacing 
 feet. She was powerfully tempted to cross the passage, knock, 
 and have the ordeal ended then and there ; but second thought 
 whispered, '* To-morrow will soon be here ; be patient." She 
 entered her room, and, wearied by the events of the day, fell 
 asleep, dreaming of the new lot in the cemetery, and the lonely, 
 joyless man who haunted it. 
 
 As she adjusted her riding-habit the following morning, and 
 Buffered Andrew to arrange her stirrup, the latter said, good- 
 humoredly : 
 
 " So, Mas' Hugh got the start of you. It is n't often he beats 
 you." 
 
 " What do you mean ?" 
 
 " He started a while ago, and, if he drives as he generally 
 does, he will get to his plantation in time for dinner." 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 221 
 
 " Dill fatlior go, too ?" 
 
 " No, ina'ra ; only Mas' Hugh, in bis own buggy." 
 In the quiet, leafy hiboratory of nature there is an elixir of 
 strength for those wise enough to seek it ; and its subtle, vola- 
 tile properties continually come to the relief of wearied, over- 
 taxed brains, and aching, oppressed hearts. The human frame, 
 because of its keen susceptibility to impressions from the exter- 
 nal world, and its curious adaptation thereunto, becomes, hke 
 the strings of an ^olian harp, attuned perfectly to the breath 
 that sweeps it, and is by turns the exponent of stormy passion or 
 holy resignation. Thus from the cool serenity, the dewy sparkle, 
 and delicate perfume of the early morning, Irene derived a re- 
 new^al of strength such as no purely human aid could have fur- 
 nished. She remembered now the sybillic words of the young 
 minister : " You, too, must tread the wine-press alone^'' and 
 felt that the garments of her soul were taking the dye, the pur- 
 ple stain of the wine of trial. Doubtless he had alluded to a dif- 
 ferent ordeal, but she knew that all the future of her earthly ex- 
 istence was to receive its changeless hue from this day, and she 
 could entertain but a modicum of doubt as to what that hue 
 would prove. Returning from her ride, she stood a moment on 
 the front step, looking down the avenue. The bermuda terrace 
 blazed in the sun-light like a jewelled coronal, the billowy sea of 
 foliage, crested by dewy drops, flashed and dripped as the soft 
 air stirred the ancient trees, the hedges were all alive with birds 
 and butterflies, the rich aroma of brilliant and countless flowers, 
 the graceful curl of smoke wreathing up from the valley beyond, 
 the measured musical tinkle of bells as the cows slowly descend- 
 ed the distant hills, and, over all, like God's mantling mercy, a 
 summer sky — ^ 
 
 " As blue as Aaron's priestly robe appeared 
 To Aaron, when he took it ofif to die.'' 
 
 Involuntarily she stretched out her arms to the bending 
 heavens, and her lips moved, but no sound escaped to tell what 
 petition went forth to the All-Father. She went to her room, 
 changed her dress, and joined her father at the breakfast-table. 
 Half-concealed behind his paper, he took no notice of her quiet 
 
222 macaria; or, 
 
 " good-morning," seeming absorbed in an editorial. The silent 
 meal ended, he said, as they left the table : 
 
 ** I want to see tou in the library," 
 
 She follo^yed him without comment ; he locked the door, threw 
 open the blinds, and drew two chau's to the window, seatmg himself 
 immediately in front of her. For a moment he eyed her, earnestly 
 as if measuring her strength ; and she saw the peculiar sparkle 
 in his falcon eye, which, like the first lurid flash in a darkened 
 sky, betokened tempests. " Irene, I was very much astonished 
 to learn the result of an interview between Hugh and yourself ; 
 I can scarcely believe that you were in earnest, and feel disposed 
 to attribute your foolish words to some trifling motive of girlish 
 coquetry or momentary pique. You have long been perfectly 
 well aware that you and your cousin were destined for each 
 ©ther ; that I solemnly promised the marriage should take place as 
 >oon as you were of age ; that all my plans and hopes for you cen- 
 tered in this one engagement. I have not pressed the matter on 
 your attention of late, because I knew you had sense enough to 
 appreciate your position, and because I believed you would be 
 guided by my wislics in this important alTair. You are no longer 
 a child ; I treat you as a reasonable w^oman, and now I tell you 
 candidly it is the one wish of my heart to see you Hugh's wife." 
 
 He paused, but she made no answer, and, taking one of her 
 hands, he continued :' 
 
 " My daughter, I cannot believe that you, on whom I have 
 lavished so much love and tenderness, can deliberately refuse to 
 accede to my wishes, can disappoint my dearest hopes. Of 
 course, in all that I do or counsel, I am actuated only by a 
 desire to promote your happiness. My dear child, I have a 
 Wf^t to direct you, and surely your affection for your only parent 
 will induce you to yield to his wishes." 
 
 He tightened his clasp of her cold hand, and leaned toward 
 her. 
 
 " Father, my happiness will not be promoted by this marriage, 
 and if you are actuated solely by this motive, allow me to re- 
 main just as I am. I should be most miserable as Hugh's wife ; 
 most utterly miserable." 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 223 
 
 *' Why so r 
 
 " For reasons which T jravc liim last niglit, and which it is 
 hardly necessary for mc to recapitulate as he doubtless repeated 
 them to you." 
 
 " Let nie hear them, if you please." 
 
 " Our characters are totally dissimilar ; our tastes and opinions 
 vide as the poles asunder ; our natures could not possibly har- 
 monize ; and, more than all, we do not love each other as people 
 should who stand at the altar and ask God's blessiug on their 
 marriage. I suppose, sir, that Hugh tells you he loves me ; 
 perhaps he likes me better than any one else beside himself, but 
 the deep, holy affection which he ought to feel for the womau 
 whom he calls his wife, has no existence in his heart. It will 
 prove a mere temi)orary disappointment, nothing seriously touch- 
 ing his happiness ; for, I assure you, that is not in my keeping." 
 
 " And if I answer that I know the contrary to be true V^ 
 
 " Father, I should still adhere to my own opinion ; and, even 
 were I disposed to accept your view of it, my own feelings w^ould 
 stand an everlasting barrier to our union. I do not love Hugh, 
 and — I must tell you, sir, that I think it wrong for cousins 
 to marry." 
 
 " You talk like a silly child ; I thought you had more sense. 
 Your objections I have listened to ; they are imaginary and 
 trifling ; and I ask you, as a father has a right to ask his child, 
 to waive these ridiculous notions, and grant the only request I 
 have evav made of you. Tell me, my daughter, that you will 
 consent to accept your cousin, and thereby make me happy." 
 
 He stooped and kissed her forehead, watching her countenance 
 eagerly. 
 
 " Oh, father ! do not ask this of me ! Anything else ! anyii, 
 thing else." 
 
 " Answer me, my darling child ; give mc your promise." 
 His hold was painful, and an angry pant mingled with the 
 pleading tones. She raised her head and said slowly : 
 " My father, I can not." 
 He threw her hand from him, and sprang up. 
 " " Ingrate I do you meau to say that you will not fulfil a 
 
224 MACARIA ; OR, 
 
 sacred engagement ? — that you will break an oath given to the 
 dead ?" 
 
 "I do not hold myself bound by the oaths of another, though 
 he were twice my father. I am responsible for no acts but my 
 own. Xo one has the right to lay his hand on an unconscious 
 infant slumbering in her cradle, and coolly determine, for all 
 t^me, her destiny. You have the right to guide me, to say what 
 I shall not do with your consent, but I am a free-born Ameri- 
 can, thank God I I did not draw my breath in Circassia, to be 
 bartered for gold by my father. I, only, can give myself away. 
 Why should you wish to force this marriage on me ? Father, 
 do you think that a woman has no voice in a matter involving 
 her happiness for life ? Is one of God's holy sacraments to be- 
 come a mere pecuniary transa'ction ? — only a legal transfer of 
 real. estate and cotton bales ? Oh, my father ! would you make 
 yourself and your child parties to so ignoble, so loathsome a 
 proceeding ?" 
 
 " Oh ! I suspected that your cursed obstinacy would meet me 
 here, as well as elsewhere in your life. You have been a source 
 of trouble and sorrow from your birth ; but the time has come 
 to end all this. I will not be trifled with ; I tried to reason 
 with you, to influence you through your affection, but it seems 
 you have none. If I resort to other measures now, you have 
 only yourself to thank. Irene, there can be peace between us, 
 but upon one condition ; I have set my heart on seemg yo«i 
 Hugh's wife ; nothing less will satisfy me. I warn you, as you 
 value your own happiness, not to thwart me ; it is no trivial risk 
 that you run. I tell you now, I will make you suffer severely if 
 ^ou dare to disobey me in this matter. You know that I never 
 menace idly, and if you refuse to hear reason, I will utterly dis- 
 inherit you, though you are my only child. Ponder it well. 
 You have been raised in luxury, and taught to believe yourself 
 one of the wealthiest heiresses in the state ; contrast your 
 present position, your elegant home, your fastidious tastes grati- 
 fied to the utmost ; contrast all this, I say, with poverty — 
 imagine yourself left in the world without one cent ! Think of 
 it ! think of it ! My wealth is my own, mark you, and I will 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 225 
 
 give it to whom I please, irrespective of all claims of custom. 
 Now the alternat^•e is fully before you, and on your own head 
 be the consequences. Will you accede to my wishes, as any 
 dutiful child should, or will you deliberately incur my everlasting 
 displeasure ? Will you marry Hugh ?" 
 
 Both rose, and stood confronting each other ; his face burn- 
 ing with wrath, every feature quivering with passion ; hers 
 white and rigid as a statue's, with only a blue cord-like crescent 
 between the arching brows to index her emotion. Steadily the 
 lai-ge violet eyes looked into those that regarded her so angrily ; 
 there was no drooping of the long silken fringes ; no moisture 
 dimming their depths ; then they were raised slowly, as if to the 
 throne of God, registering some vow, and, pressing her hands 
 over her heart, she said, solemnly : 
 
 " Father, I will not marry Hugh, so help me God !" 
 
 Silence fell between them for several moments ; something in 
 tliat fixed, calm face of his child awed him, but it was temporary, 
 and, with a bitter laugh, he exclaimed : 
 
 " Oh, very well I Your poverty be upon your own head in 
 coming years, when the grave closes over me. At my death 
 every cent of my property passes to Hugh, and with it my name, 
 and between you and me, as an impassable gulf, lies my everlast- 
 ing displeasure. Understand that, though we live here in on^ 
 house, as father and child, I do not, and will not, forgive you. 
 You have defied me ; now eat the bitter fruit of your diso- 
 bedience." 
 
 " I have no desire to question the disposition of your wealth ; 
 if you prefer to give it to my cousin, I am willing, perfectly will- 
 ing. I would rather beg my bread from door to door, proud 
 though I am ; I would sooner soil my Huntingdon hands by 
 washing or cooking, than soil my soul with perjury, or sell my- 
 self for gold. It is true, I love elegance and luxury : I enjoy 
 wealth as well as most people do, I suppose ; but poverty does 
 not frighten me half so much as a loveless marriage. Give Hugh 
 your fortune, if you wish, but, father I father ! let there be no 
 estrangement between you and me. I can bear everything but 
 your displeasure ; I dread nothing so much as the loss of your 
 
226 MAC ART A ; OR, 
 
 love. • Oh, father ! forgive a disappointment which my con- 
 science would not permit me to avert. Forgive the pain which,^^ 
 God knows, I would not have caused you, if I could have avoided 
 it without compromising principle. Oh, my father ! my father 1 
 let not dollars and cents stand between you and your only child. 
 I ask nothing now but your love." 
 
 She drew nearer, but he waved her off and said, with a sneer- 
 ing laugh : 
 
 " Away with all such cant ! I gave you the choice, and you 
 made your selection with your eyes fully open. Accept poverty 
 as your doom, and with it my eternal displeasure. I intend to 
 make you suffer for your obstinacy. You shall find, to your 
 sorrow, that I am not to be trifled with, or my name is not 
 Leonard Huntingdon. Now go your own way, and find what 
 a thorny path you have made for yourself." 
 
 He pointed to the door as he had done, years before, when the 
 boarding-school decree went forth, and without remonstrance she 
 left him, and sat down on the steps of the green-house. Soon 
 after, the sound of his buggy wheels told her that he had gone 
 to town, and, leaning her cheek on her hand, she recalled the 
 painful conversation from first to last. That he meant all he 
 had threatened, and more, she did not question for an instant, 
 and, thinking of her future, she felt sick at heart. But with the 
 shame and sorrow came, also, a thrill of joy ; she had burst the 
 fetters : she was free. Wounded affection bled freely, but brain 
 and conscience exulted in the result. She could not reproach 
 herself ; slie resolved not to reproach her father, even in thought. 
 Hers was not a disposition to vent its griefs and troubles in 
 tears ; these had come to her relief but three or four times in the 
 course of a life, and on this occasion she felt as little inclination 
 to cry as to repine idly over what could not be rectified. Her 
 painful reverie was interrupted by the click of approaching 
 crutches, and she rose to meet her uncle. 
 
 " Do not get up, Irene ; I will sit here beside you. My child, 
 look at me — are you sick ?'' 
 
 " No, uncle Eric ; what put that absurd notion into your 
 bead ? I rode past your door two hours ago, and was power- 
 fully tempted to stop and breakfast with your bachelorship." 
 
ALTARS OV SACKIFICE. 227 
 
 He rop^ardod her anxiously, noting the singular crescent on her 
 pale foreliead, and connecting it with the scowling face of his 
 ^•other-in-law, which had |)assed him on the avenue. He knew 
 that something very unusual had excited th^ calm, inflexible wo- 
 man till the hot blood swelled that vein, but he forebore all 
 question. 
 
 " What are you thinking of, uncle Eric ?" 
 
 " Only of a line in a poem which I was reading last? night. 
 Shall I quote it for you ? 
 
 " * A still Medasa, with mild milky brows 
 All curled .' " 
 
 She looked in his face, smiled, and passed her hand over her 
 forehead, hiding the blue cord. 
 
 " Ah I a gentle way of reading me a lecture on ill-temper. I 
 lay no claim to saintship, you know, and when I am out of humor 
 my face won't play the hypocrite. I am no Griselda ; obviously 
 none of my name can ever expect canonization on that score. 
 Come to the conservatory ; the lemons are in full bloom, and 
 marvellously sweet. Put your hand on my shoulder, and come 
 down slowly." 
 
 " Where is Hugh ? I thought he came home yesterday ?" 
 
 " He started to his plantation at daylight. Take care, sir ; 
 these flags are slippery with dew ; your crutches arc unsafe." 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 " To-WHiT — to whoo I" Munin stretched his broad gray wings, 
 and, quitting the mantle-piece, perched upon the top of the easel, 
 gazing down at the solitary artist, and uttering all the while a 
 subdued melancholy note of complaint, as if to attract her at- 
 tention. She looked up and held out her hand, coaxingly. 
 
 " Munin ! Munin I what do you want ? You haunt me like 
 my shadow. Poor pet, true to your name, you pine for your 
 master." 
 
228 macarta; or, 
 
 « 
 
 The ruffled plumes smoothed themselves, the plaiut was hushed. 
 He fluttered to her shoulder, received her soft, caressing touches 
 with evident satisfaction, nestled his beak in her shining hair, and 
 then, as if soothed and contented, flitted to the open window. 
 Resuming her brush, Electra leaned forward and continued her 
 work. '' Labor art est or are ■'^ if so, no more ardent devotee 
 ever bowed at the shrine of toil, bearing sacrificial offerings. 
 Thoughts, hopes, aspirations, memories, all centered in the 
 chosen profession ; to its prosecution she brought the strength 
 and energy of an indomitable will, the rich and varied resources 
 of a well-stored brilliant intellect. It was evident that she 
 labored con ainore, and now the expectation of approaching 
 triumph lent additional eagerness to her manner. The fingers 
 trembled, the eyes sparkled unwontcdly, a deeper, richer crim- 
 son glowed on the smooth cheeks, and the lips parted and closed 
 unconsciously. The tantalizing dreams of childhood, beautiful 
 but evanescent, had gradually embodied themselves in a palpa- 
 ble, tangible, glorious reality ; and the radiant woman exulted 
 in the knowledge that she had but to put forth her hand and 
 grasp it. The patient work of twelve months drew to a close ; 
 the study of years bore its first fruit : the last delicate yet quiv- 
 ering touch was given ; she threw down palette and brush, and, 
 stepping back, surveyed the canvas. The Exhibition would 
 open within two days, and this was to be her contribution. A 
 sad-eyed Cassandra, with pallid, prescient, woe-struck features — 
 an over-mastering face, wherein the flickering light of divination 
 struggled feebly with the human horror of the To-Come, whose 
 hideous mysteries were known only to the royal prophetess. In 
 mute and stern despair it looked out from the canvas, a curious 
 anomalous thing — cut adrift from human help, bereft of aid from 
 heaven — yet, in its doomed isolation, scorning to ask the sym- 
 pathy which its extraordinary loveliness extorted from all who 
 saw it. The artist's pride in this, her first finished creation, might 
 well be pardoned, for she was fully conscious that the cloud- 
 region of a painful novitiate lay far beneath her ; that hence- 
 forth she should never miss the pressure of long-coveted chaplets 
 from her brow ; that she should bask in the warm, fructifying 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 229 
 
 rays of public fiivor ; and measureless exultation flashed in her 
 beautiful eyes. The torch of Genius burned brightly, as buoy- 
 ant and eager, she took her place in the great lampadrorae of 
 life ; but would it endure till the end ? Would it light up the 
 goal standing upon the terminus of Time ? 
 
 The door opened, and Russell came into the studio. She was 
 not expecting him ; his sudden appearance gave her no time to 
 adjust the chilling mask of pride, and all her uncontrolled affec- 
 tion found eloquent language in the joyful face. 
 
 " Russell I my own dear Russell I" 
 
 He drew his arm around her and kissed her flushed cheek, and 
 each looked at the other, wondering at the changes which years 
 had wrought. 
 
 " Electra, you have certainly improved more than any one I 
 ever knew. You look the impersonation of perfect health ; it is 
 needless to ask how you are." And again his lips touched the 
 beaming face pressed against his shoulder. Her arms stole trem- 
 blingly around his neck, past indifference was forgotten in the 
 joy of his presence, and" she murmured : 
 
 " I thought I should not see you before I left America. I can 
 not tell you what a pleasure this surprise is to me. Oh, Russell I 
 I longed inexpressibly to be with you once more. Thank you, a 
 thousand times, for coming to me at last." 
 
 " Did you suppose that I intended to let you put the Atlantic 
 between us without making an effort to see you again ? Were 
 you unjust enough to believe that I had forgotten the only rela- 
 tive whom I love ? My dear little sceptic, I have come to prove 
 my affection, and put yours to the test." 
 
 He pressed her closer to his heart, but suddenly she shrank 
 from him, unclasped his arm, and, wheeling two chairs to the 
 window, said, hurriedly : 
 
 " Sit down, and let me look at you. You have grown so tall 
 and commanding that I am half-afraid of my own cousin. You 
 r/o less like aunt Amy than formerly." 
 
 " Allow me to look at your painting first, for it will soon be 
 too dark to examine it. This is the Cassandra of which you 
 wrote me." 
 
230 macaria; or, 
 
 He stood before it for some moments in silence, and she watch- 
 ed him with breathless eagerness — for his opinion was of more 
 value to her than that of all the dilettanti and connoisseurs who 
 would soon inspect it. Gradually his dark, cold face kindled, 
 and she had her reward. 
 
 " It is a masterly creation ; a thing of wonderful and imper- 
 ishable beauty ; it is a great success — as such the world will re- 
 ceive it — and hundreds will proclaim your triumph. I am proud 
 of it, and doubly proud of you." 
 
 He held out his hand, and, as she put her fingers in his, her 
 head drooped, and hot tears blinded her. Praise from the lips 
 she loved best stirred her womanly heart as the applause of the 
 public could never do ; and, in after years, when grief and lone- 
 liness oppressed her, these precious words rang sweet and silvery 
 through the darkened chambers of her soul, working miracles 
 of comfort infinitely beyond the potent spell of Indian 0-U-M, 
 or mystic Agin. Without perceiving her emotion he continued, 
 with his eyes fixed on the pictui'e : 
 
 " Some day you must make me a copj, and I will hang it over 
 the desk in my office, where I can feast my eyes on its rare love- 
 liness and my ears with your praises, from all who see it. How 
 long have you been at work upon it ?" 
 
 " I can't recall the time when it first took hold of my imagi- 
 nation ; it paced by my side when I was a child, brooded over 
 me in my troubled dreams, looked out from the pomp of summer 
 clouds and the dripping drab skies of winter, floated on snow- 
 flakes, and flashed in thunder-storms ; but I outlined it about a 
 year ago. For my exhibition picture, I wavered long between 
 this and an unfinished Antigone ; but finally decided in favor of 
 Cassandra." 
 
 " And selected wisely. While in Europe I saw, in a private 
 house, an exquisite head of the ' Erythraean Sybil/ which some- 
 what resembles your painting. The position is ahnost identical 
 —the nose, mouth, and chin very similar ; but the glory of this 
 Cassandra is the supernatural eyes, brimful of prescience. It 
 might afford matter for curious speculation, however, and some 
 time we will trace the subtle law of association of ideas by which 
 
ALTAKS OK 8ACKIFICK. 231 
 
 two artists, separated by the Atlantic, and by centuries, chanced, 
 nnder totally different circumstances, to portray similarly the 
 two distinct prophetesses avIio both foretold the doom of Troy." 
 
 " If such is the case, the world will be very sceptical of the 
 coincidence. I did not even know that there was an ' EryfJi- 
 rcLan Sybil/much less a picture of her ; so much for ignorance ! 
 The critics who knew that I did not paint your portrait, simply 
 because it was well done, will swear that I stole the whole of 
 my Cassandra," answered Elcctra, perplexed and troubled. 
 
 " You need not look so rueful, and plough your forehead with 
 that heavy frown. In all probability I am the only person in 
 New York who has seen the other picture ; and, granting the 
 contrary, the resemblance might not be detected. If you suffer 
 it to annoy you I shall be sorry that I mentioned it. Yet, I 
 doubt not, the withering charge of plagiarism has often been 
 hurled in the face of an honest worker, quite as unjustly as it 
 would be in your case. Yery startling coincidences sometimes 
 occur most innocently ; but carping envy is a thrifty plant, and 
 flourishes on an astonishingly small amount of soil." 
 
 " Who painted that Sibyl V 
 
 " It is not known positively. Traveling through the north- 
 ern part of France, I was detained some hours at a village, and 
 employed the delay in rambling about the suburbs. Following 
 a winding road it brought me to the enclosure of a chateau, and 
 I leaned on the fence and admired the parterre, which was un- 
 commonly pretty. The owner happened to be among his flower 
 beds, saw me, and, with genuine French politeness and urbanity, 
 insisted that I should enter and rest myself while he gathered 
 me a bouquet of mignonette and pinks. The afternoon was 
 warm, and I asked for a glass of water. He took me into the 
 house, and on the parlor wall hung this picture. It riveted my 
 attention, and flattered, doubtless, by my evident admiration, he 
 ^ave me its history. His father had found it at a picture-shop 
 in Germany, I forget now exactly where, and bought it for n 
 Dolce, but doubted its genuineness ; and my host, who seemed 
 thoroughly aufait in Art matters, asserted that it belonged to 
 
232 macaria; ob, 
 
 a much earlier school. That is all that I or the owner know of 
 it ; so dismiss the subject from your mind." 
 
 " I shall not, I promise you. Give me minute directions, and 
 I will hunt up chateau, mignonette, gentlemanly proprietor, 
 Sibyl, and all. Who knows but metempsychosis may be true 
 after all, and that the painter's soul possesses me bodily, striving 
 to portray the archetype which haunted him in the last stage of 
 existence ? According to Yaughan, the Portuguese have a 
 superstition that the soul of a man who has died leaving some 
 duty unfulfilled, or promised work unfinished, is frequently known 
 to enter into another person, and dislodging for a time the right- 
 ful soul-occupant, impel him unconsciously to complete what 
 was lacking." 
 
 " You are growing positively paganish, Electra, from con- 
 stant association with the dead deities of classic ages, and I 
 must reclaim you. Come, sit down, and tell me something of 
 your life, since the death of your friend, Mr. Clifton." 
 
 " Did you receive my last letter, giving an account of Mrs. 
 Clifton's death ?" 
 
 " Yes ; just as I stepped upon the platform of the cars it was 
 handed to me. I liad heard nothing from you for so long, that 
 I thought it was time to look after you." 
 
 " You had started, then, before you knew that I was going 
 to Europe ?" 
 
 "Ye5." 
 
 He could not understand the instantaneous change which came 
 over her countenance — the illumination, followed as suddenly by 
 a smile, half compassionate, half bitter. She pressed one hand 
 to her heart, and said : 
 
 " Mrs. Clifton never seemed to realize her son's death, though, 
 after paralysis took place, and she became speechless, I thought 
 she recovered her memory in some degree. She survived him 
 just four mouths, and, doubtless, was saved much grief by her 
 unconsciousness of what had occurred. Poor old lady ! she 
 suffered little for a year past, and died, I hope, without pain. 
 I have the consolation of knowina: that I did all that oould be 
 done to promote her comfort. Russell, I would not live here 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 233 
 
 for any consideration ; notliinj^ but a sense of duty has detained 
 me this long-. I promised him that I would not forsake his 
 mother. But you can have no adequate conception of the feeling 
 of desolation which t»omes over me when I sit here during the lonjr 
 eyenings. He seems watching me from picture-frames and 
 pedestals ; his face, his pleading, patient, wan face, haunts me 
 perpetually. And yet I tried to make him happy ; God knows 
 I did my duty." 
 
 She sprang up, and paced the room for some moments, with 
 her hands behind her, and tears glittering on her cheeks. 
 Pausing at last on the rug, she pointed to a large square object 
 closely shrouded, and added : 
 
 "Yonder stands his last picture, unfinished. The day he 
 died he put a few feeble strokes upon it, and bequeathed the 
 completion of the task to me. For several years he worked 
 occasionally on it, but much remains to be done. It is the 
 ' Death of Socrates.' I have not even looked at it since that 
 night ; I do not intend to touch it until after I visit Italy ; I 
 doubt whether my hand will ever be steady enough to give the 
 last strokes. Oh, Russell ! the olden time, the cottage days 
 seem far, far off to me now !" 
 
 Leaning against the mantel-piece, she dropped her head on 
 her hand, but when he approached and stood at the opposite 
 corner he saw that the tears had dried. 
 
 "Neither of us has had a sunny life, Electra ; both have had 
 numerous obstacles to contend with ; both have very bitter 
 memories. Originally there was a certain parallelism in our 
 characters, but with our growth grew the divergence. You 
 have preserved the nobler part of your nature ])etter than I ; 
 for my years I am far older than you ; none of the brightness of 
 my boyhood seems to linger about ule. Contact with the world 
 is an indurating process ; I really did not know how hard I had 
 grown, until I felt my heart soften at sight of you. I need you 
 to keep the kindly charities and gentle amenities of life before 
 me, and, therefore, I have come for you. But for my poverty 
 I never would have given you up so long ; I felt that it would 
 be for your advantage, in more than one respect, to remam with 
 
234 macaeia; or, 
 
 Mr. Clifton until I had acquired my profession. I knew that 
 you would enjoy privileges here, which I could not give you in 
 my straightened circumstances. Things have changed ; Mr. 
 Carapbell has admitted me to partnership ; my success I con- 
 sider an established fact. Give up, for a season, this projected 
 tour of Europe ; wait till I can go with you ; till I can take you ; 
 
 go back to W with me. You can continue your art-studies, 
 
 if you wish it ; you can prosecute them there as well as here. 
 You are ambitious, Electra ; so am I, let us work together." 
 
 She raised her head and looked up at the powerful, nobly- 
 proportioned form, the grand, kingly face, calm and colorless, 
 the large, searching black eyes, within whose baffling depths lay 
 all the mysteries of mesmerism, and a spasm of pain seized her 
 own features. She shaded her brow, and answered : 
 
 " Xo, Russell ; I could not entertain that thought an instant," 
 
 " Are you too proud to accept a home from me ?" 
 
 " Xot too proud, exactly ; but, as long as I have health, I 
 mean to make a support. I will not burden you." 
 
 " What bunglers you women arc at logic ! The thought of 
 living on my charity affrights you, and yet you fly from me to 
 the cold charity of the world — for what else is fleeting, fickle 
 public favor — fitful public patronage or praise ?" 
 
 " Full value received for benefit rendered, is not charity ; be- 
 side, Russell, you, too, seek and subsist upon this same fickle 
 public favor." 
 
 " Partially, I grant you ; but I ground my claims far deeper 
 than you ; I strike down, taking root in the substratum of sel- 
 fishness. Interest, individual interest, is the outpost of which I 
 am paid to be the sentinel ; stern necessity is my guardian angel, 
 compelling all men to sec that my wages are inviolate. I stand 
 in the great brain-market place, and deal with mankind in the 
 normal, every-day manifestations of avarice, selfishness, or hate ; 
 profit and loss the theme— dollars or blood the currency. M. 
 Quetelet, one of the most eminent statisticians of Europe, has 
 proved that, in a given population, a given number of crimes will 
 annually be committed ; so you see that, in this market, also, 
 production keeps pace with consumption, and legal counsel is 
 
* ^ ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 235 
 
 necessitatod. On the contrary, yon address yourself to a class 
 of emotions flnctuating and sliort-lived — common to compara- 
 tively few — involving no questions of utility — luxuries not neces- 
 sities. Yours is a profession of contingencies ; not so mine ; for 
 injustice, duplicity, theft, are every-«Iay, settled certainties. A 
 man will give me one half of his estate to save the other, which 
 the chicane of his neighbor threatens." 
 
 " And if that villainous, avaricious neighbor had emploved 
 you half an hour before the injured man sought to engage your 
 services ?" 
 
 " Why, then the lawyer next in his estimation gets the case, and 
 it is resolved into a simple question of his superior adroitness, acu- 
 men, and industry, or mine. Tiie world is hard upon lawyers, its 
 faithful servants, and holds them up as moral monsters to the 
 very children whose mouths their labor fills with bread. Au 
 erroneous and most unjust impression prevails that a lawyer of 
 ability, plus extensive practice, equals Bacon, Jeffries, Ijupey, or 
 some other abnormal disgrace to jurisprudence ; whereas, the 
 sole object of the institution of law is to secure right, justice, 
 and truth. You are opening your lips to ask if the last is not 
 often wilfully suppressed ? Remember that even the Twelve 
 found a Judas among their numb^, and the provision of counsel 
 is to elicit truth, and all the truth, on both sides. I bring testi- 
 mony in defence of all that is susceptible of proof in ray client's 
 favor, and it is the business of'the opposite counsel to do like- 
 wise ; if he neglects his duty, or, through lack of intellect, suffers 
 me to gain the case, even against real justice, am I culpable ? I 
 did my duty ; he failed to defend his cause, however righteous, 
 and on his shoulders rest the turpitude." 
 
 " Ah, Russell ! you have taken a diploma in the school of 
 sophistry." 
 
 '' I am content that you should think so, since a recent great 
 historian has decided that the Sophists were a sadly maligned 
 sect, and, instead of becoming a synonyme of reproach, merited 
 the everlasting gratitude of mankind, as the tireless public teach- 
 ers of Greece — the walking-school system of Athens in her im- 
 perial, palmy days." 
 
236 MACARIA ; OR, 
 
 *' I never will believe that ! I wish to heaven archseologTsts 
 would let the dust of Athens rest, instead of ploughing it up pe- 
 riodically with the sacrilegious shares of newfangled theories." 
 
 " And thereby exhuming the mouldering bones of some of 
 your favorite divinities, I suppose ? The literary philhellenism 
 of the present age, and especially its philologic tendency, is fast 
 hunting the classic spectres of the heroic times into primeval 
 shade. 01dfog}'ism in literature is considered, I believe, quite as 
 unpardonable as in politics. Take care how you handle the 
 Sophists, for I hold that they differed in but one respect from 
 your hero, Socrates." 
 
 " You shall not insult his memory by any such disgraceful as- 
 sociation," interrupted his cousin. 
 
 " And that difference," he continued, without heeding her, 
 " consists in the fact that they taught for money, while he .sconi- 
 ed to accept remuneration. Sydney Smith maintains that ' So- 
 crates invented common sense two thousand years ago, as Ceres 
 invented the plough, and Bacchus intoxication.' I should re- 
 ceive the dicfum more readily if he had pocketed the honest 
 wages of his talents, instead of deluding himself with the belief 
 that he was the heaven-appointed regenerator of Athens, and 
 making his labors purely eleemosynary, to the possible detriment 
 of his family. Who knows but that, after all, Xantippe deserv- 
 ed a place in martyrology, having been driven to paroxysms of 
 rage and desperation by an empty purse, or wretched household 
 derangements, victhnized by her husband's cosmopolitan mission ; 
 for it is a notorious fact that men who essay to manage the opin- 
 ions of the world invariably neglect their domestic affairs, and 
 allow them to run to ruin." 
 
 " Five, years ago you would not have said that, Rnssell, and I 
 think it questionable whether you believe it all now. I hold my 
 profession a nobler one than yours, and dispute your predicate 
 that it involves no utility. Whatever tends to exalt, to purify, 
 to ennoble, is surely useful ; and aesthetics, properly directed, is 
 one of the most powerful engines of civilization. See what it 
 wrought for Athens." 
 
 " You mistake effect for cause. The freedom of Athens was 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 237 
 
 the lever which raised it to such a pitch of glory ; as a sequence, 
 the arts flourished and beauty was apotheosized. When freedom 
 perished the arts received their death-blow, and, impotent to 
 preserve the prosperity of the city, shed a lingering halo around 
 its melancholy but majestic ruins. That aesthetics and utility 
 are synonymes, is an axiom which might find acceptation in 
 * Bensalem •/ but in this intensely practical, mechanical epoch of 
 human history, and this money-making quarter of the globe, you 
 must educate the masses up to an entirely difl'erent level, before 
 you can expect them to receive it." 
 
 " And, so far as my feeble influence extends, or my limited 
 ability will permit, I purpose to become such a teacher. Do not 
 laugh at me, Russell, I beg of you." 
 
 " I smile at the beautiful dream, rather than the enthusiastic 
 dreamer. So, doubtless, dreamed Phidias, Praxiteles, and the 
 Rhodian Trio, and only a few time-corroded blocks of marble 
 remain in attestation. Cui bono .?" 
 
 " Yours and mine I — for dead nations, and for generations 
 yet unborn, who shall gaze upon their noble and imperishable 
 monuments. You are worse than Goth or Vandal, if you can 
 ignore their softening, spiritualizing influence — for even they, 
 rude and untutored, bowed before their immortal beauty. What 
 has come over you, Russell, hardening your nature, and sealing 
 the sources of genial, genuine appreciation ?" 
 
 " The icy breath of experience, the crystalizing touch of years. 
 You must not be so severe upon me, Electra ; many a time, 
 since we parted, I have left my desk to watch a gorgeous sunset, 
 and for a few minutes fancy myself once more leaning on the 
 garden-gate of my early home. 1 love beauty, but I subordinate 
 it to the practical utilities of life. I have little time for aesthetic 
 musings ; I live among disenchanting, common-place realities. It 
 is woman's province and prerogative to gather up the links of 
 beauty, and bind them as a garland round her home ; to fill it 
 with the fragrance of dewy flowers, the golden light of western 
 skies, the low, soothing strains of music, which can chant all care 
 to rest ; which will drown the clink of dollars and cents, and 
 lead a man's thoughts to purer, loftier themes. Ah ! there is no 
 
238 MACARIA ; OR, 
 
 apocalypse of joy and peace like a happy home, where a woman 
 of elegance and refinement goes to and fro. This recalls the ob- 
 ject of my visit. You say, truly, that full value received for 
 benefit rendered is not charity ; apply your principle, come to 
 
 W , share my future, and what fortune I may find assigned 
 
 mo. I have bought the cottage, and intend to build a handsome 
 house tliere some day, where you and Mr. Campbell, and I can 
 live peacefully. You shall twine your aesthetic fancies all about 
 it, to make it picturesque enough to suit your fastidious artistic 
 taste. Come, and save me from what you consider my worse 
 than vandalian proclivities. I came here simply and solely in the 
 hope of prevailing on you to return with me. I make this re- 
 quest, not because I think it will be expected of me, but for 
 more selfish reasons — because it is a matter resting very near my 
 heart." 
 
 " Oh, Russell ! you tempt me." 
 
 " I wish to do so. My blood beats in your veins ; you are 
 the only relative I value, and were you indeed my sister, I should 
 scarcely love you more. With all a brother's interest, why 
 should I not claim a brother's right to keep you with me, at 
 least until you find your Pylades, and give him a higher claim 
 before God and man ? Electra, were I your brother, you would 
 require no persuasion ; why hesitate now ?" 
 
 She clasped her hands behind her, as if for support in some 
 fiery ordeal, and, gathering up her strength, spoke rapidly, like 
 one who fears that resolution will fail before some necessary sen- 
 tence is pronounced. 
 
 " You are very kind and generous, Russell, and for all that 
 you have ofi*ered me I thank you from the depth of a full heart. 
 The consciousness of your continued interest and affection is in- 
 expressibly precious ; but my disposition is too much like your 
 own to suffer me to sit down in idleness, while there is so much 
 to be done in the world. I, too, want to earn a noble reputa- 
 tion, which will survive long after I have been gathered to my 
 fathers ; I want to accomplish some work, looking upon which, 
 my fdlow-crcatures will proclaim : * That woman has not lived 
 in vain ; the world is better and happier because she came and 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 230 
 
 labored in it.' I want my name carved, not on monumental 
 marble only, but upon the living, throbbing heart of my age !— 
 stamped indelibly on the generation in which my lot is cast. 
 Perhaps I am too sanguine of success ; a grievous disappohit- 
 mcnt may await all my ambitious hopes, but failure will come 
 from want of genius, not lack of persevering, patient toil. Upon 
 the threshold of my career, facing the loneliness of coming years, 
 I resign that hope with which, like a golden thread, most women 
 embroider their future. I dedicate myself, my life, unreservedly 
 to Art.'' 
 
 " You believe that you will be happier among the marble and 
 canvas of Italy than in W with me ?" 
 
 " Yes ; I shall be better Satisfied there. All my life it has 
 gleamed afar off, a glorious land of promise to my eager, long- 
 ing spirit. From childhood I have cherished the hope of reach- 
 ing it, and the fruition is near at hand. Italy ! bright Alma 
 Mater of the art to which I consecrate my years. Do you won- 
 der that, like a lonely child, I stretch out my arms toward it ? 
 Yet my stay there will be but for a season. I go to complete my 
 studies, to make myself a more perfect instrument for my noble 
 work, and then I shall come home — come, not to New York, 
 
 but to my own dear native South, to W , that I may 
 
 labor under the shadow of its lofty pines, and within hearing of 
 its murmuring river — dearer to me than classic Arno, or im- 
 mortal Tiber. I wrote you that Mr. Clifton had left me a le- 
 gacy, which, judiciously invested, will defray my expenses in 
 Europe, where living is cheaper than in this country. • Mr. 
 Young has taken charge of the money for me, and has kindly 
 offered to attend to my. remittances. Aunt Ruth's friends, the 
 Ilichardsons, consented to wait for me until after the opening of 
 the Exhibition of the Academy of Design, and one week from 
 to-morrow we expect to sail " 
 
 " What do you know of. the family ?" 
 
 " Nothing, except that the lady, who is an old friend of my 
 aunt, is threatened with consumption, and has been advised to 
 spend a year or two in Florence. Aunt Ruth took me to see 
 
240 MACARIA ; OR, 
 
 her the other day ; she seems intelligent and agreeable, and, I 
 dare saj^, I shall find her kind and pleasant enough." 
 
 " Since such is the programme you have marked out, I trust 
 that no disappointments await you, and that all your bright 
 dreams may be realized. But if it should prove otherwise, and 
 you grow weary of your art, sick of isolation, and satiated with 
 Italy, remember that I shall welcome you home, and gladly 
 share with you all that I possess. You are embarking in an ex- 
 periment which thousands have tried before you, and wrecked 
 happiness upon ; but I have no right to control your future, and 
 certainly no desire to discourage you. At all events, I hope 
 our separation will be brief." 
 
 A short silence followed, broken at last by Electra, who 
 watched him keenly as she spoke : 
 
 '* Tell me something about Irene. Of course, in a small town 
 like W , you must see her frequently." 
 
 " By no means. I think I have seen her but three times since 
 her childhood — once riding with her father, then accidentally at 
 church, and again a few evenings before I left at the graveyard, 
 where she -was dressing a tombstone with flowers. There we ex- 
 changed a few words for the first time, and this reminds me that 
 I am bearer of a message yet undelivered. She inquired after 
 you and desired me to tender you her love and best wishes." 
 
 He neither started nor changed color at the mention of Irene's 
 name, but straightened himself, and buttoned to the throat the 
 black coat, which, from the warmth of the room, he had par- 
 tially loosened. 
 
 ** Is she not a great belle ?" 
 
 " I presume few women have been more admired than she is. 
 I hear much of her beauty, and the seasation which it creates 
 wherever she goes ; but the number of her suitors is probably 
 limited, from the fact that it is generally known she is engaged 
 to her cousin, young Seymour." 
 
 " I can not believe that she loves him." 
 
 " Oh I that is not necessary to latter-day matrimonial con- 
 tracts ; it is an obsolete clause, not essential to legality, and 
 
ALTARS OF 5ACKIFICE. 241 
 
 ntteiiy ignored. She is bound hand and foot, and her father 
 will immolate her on the altar of money." 
 
 He smiled bitterly, and crossed his arms over his chest. 
 
 " You mistake her character, Russell. I know her better, 
 and I tell you there is none of the Iphigenia in her nature." 
 
 " At least I do not mistake her father's, and I pity the wo- 
 man whose fate rests in his iron grasp." 
 
 " She holds hers in her own hands, small and white though 
 they are ; and, so surely as the stars shine above us, she will 
 marry only where she loves. She has all the will which has 
 rendered the name of her family proverbial. I have her here in 
 crayons ; tell mo what you think of the likeness." 
 
 She took down a portfolio and selected the head of her quan- 
 dam playmate, holding it under the gas-light, and still scrutiniz- 
 ing her cousin's countenance. He took it, and looked gravely, 
 earnestly, at the lovely features. 
 
 " It scarcely does her justice ; I doubt whether any portrait 
 ever wili. Beside the expression of her face has changed mate- 
 rially since this was sketched. There is a harder outline now 
 about her mouth, less of dreaminess in the eyes, more of cold hau- 
 teur in the whole face. If you desire it, I can in one line of 
 Tenyson, photograph her proud beauty, as I saw her mounted 
 on her favorite horse, the week that I left home : 
 
 " ' Faultily faultless, icily regular, splendidly null !' " 
 
 He laid the drawing back in the open portfolio, crossed the 
 room, and took up his hat. 
 
 " Where are you going, Russell ? Can't you spend the even- 
 ing with me at aunt Ruth's ?" 
 
 " No, thank you ; I must go. There is to be a great politi- 
 cal meeting at Tammany Ilall to-night, and I am particularly 
 anxious to attend." 
 
 " What I are you, too, engaged in watching the fermentation 
 of the political vat ?" 
 
 " Yes ; I am most deeply interested ; no true lover of his 
 country can fail to be so at this juncture." 
 
 11 
 
24-2 MACAKIA ; OE, 
 
 " How long will you be in Xew York ?" 
 
 " Since I can not persuade you to return with me, my stay 
 here will be shortened. One of our courts meets soon, and, 
 though Mr. Campbell will be there to attend to the cases, I want, 
 if possible, to be present. I shall return day after to-morrow. 
 And now good-night ; I will see you early in the morning." 
 
 The door closed behind him, and she remained standing for 
 some time just as he left her. Slowly the folded hands shrank 
 from each other, and dropped nerveless to her side ; the bright 
 glow in her cheeks, the dash of crimson on her lips, faded from 
 both ; the whole face relaxed into an expression of hopeless 
 agony. Lonely as Moses when he calmly climbed Nebo to die, 
 phe bowed herself a despairing victim upon the grim, flint-front- 
 ed altar of Necessity. 
 
 Curiously subtle and indomitable is woman's hearty so often 
 the jest of the flippant and unthinking — the sneer of the unscru- 
 pulously calculating, or mercilessly cynical. It had long been no 
 secret to this woman that she occupied the third place in her 
 cousin's aff'ections — was but a dweller of the vestibule. Her 
 pride had been tortured, her vauity sorely wounded ; yet, to- 
 night, purified from all dross, love rose invincible, triumphant, 
 {torn the crucible of long and severe trial — sublime in its isolor 
 tion, asking, expecting no return — 
 
 " Self-girded with torn strips of hope." 
 
 Such is the love of a true woman. God help all such, in this 
 degenerate world of ours, so cursed with shams and counterfeits. 
 
 Raising her tearless, shadowy eyes to the woeful face of her 
 Cassandra, Electra extended her arms and murmured : 
 
 " Alone henceforth ! a pilgrim in foreign lands ! a solitary 
 worker among strangers. So be it ! I am strong enough to 
 worfi alone. So be it !" 
 
 The flaming sword of the Angel of Destiny waved her from 
 the Eden of her girlish day-dreams, and by its fiery gleam • she 
 read the dim, dun future ; saw all — 
 
 " The long mechanic pacings to and fro, 
 The set gray life, and apathetic end." 
 
ALTAES OF SACRIFICE. 2i3 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 " Don't you know that even granite mill-stones finally grind 
 themselves into impalpable powder ? You give yourself no rest, 
 Aubrey, and human machinery wears rapidly." 
 
 " But if the powder ground be golden ?" 
 
 "The dust is but dust still, despite its glitter, and fills men's 
 eyes and dims their vision like any other dust ; ending often in 
 a moral ophtalmia past cure. 
 
 " The plague of gold strikes far and near 
 And deep and strong it enters. 
 This purple chimar which we wear, 
 
 Makes madder than the centaur's ; 
 Our thoughts grow blank, our words grow strange, 
 
 We cheer the pale gold-diggers ; 
 Each soul is worth so much on 'Change, 
 And marked, like sheep, with tigures. 
 
 Be pitiful, God!" 
 
 " I should really dislike to think that you had become a con- 
 firmed, inveterate chrysologist. Take time, Aubrey I take time ; 
 you are over-worked, and make months press upon your brow 
 more heavily than years on most men's. After all, my dear fel- 
 low, as Emerson says, ' Politics is a deleterious profession, like 
 some poisonous handicrafts.' I sometimes feel like drawing a 
 long breath for you ; it wearies me to look at you — you are such 
 a concentrated extract of work ! work ! Simply for this reason, 
 I sent for you to come and take a cup of tea with me." 
 
 '* I have been too ni'ich engaged of late to spare an evening 
 to merely social claims. A man whose life rests at his feet, to 
 be lifted to some fitting pedestal, has little leisure for the luxury 
 of friendly visiting." 
 
 The two were in Eric Mitchell's pleasant library. Russell sat 
 in an arm-chair, and the master of the house reclined on a lounge 
 drawn near the hearth. The mellow glow of the lamp, the flash 
 and crackle of the fire, the careless, lazy posture of the invalid. 
 
244 MACARIA ; OB, 
 
 all betokened quiet comfort, save the dark fixed face, and erect, 
 restless figure of the guest. 
 
 " But, Aubrey, a. man who has already achieved so much 
 should be content to rest a while, and move more slowly." 
 
 " That de^DCuds altogether on the nature and distance of his 
 goal." 
 
 " And that goal is— what ?" 
 
 " Men call it by a variety of names, hoping to escape Lucifer's 
 fate by adroitly cloaking Lucifer's infirmity." 
 
 " Yes ; and whenever I look at you toiling so ceaselessly, 
 climbing so surely to eminence, I am forcibly reminded of Ma- 
 caulay's tine passage on the hollowness of political life : ' A pur- 
 suit from which, at most, they can only expect, by relinquishing 
 liberal studies and social pleasures, by passing nights without 
 sleep and summers without one glimpse of the beauty of nature, 
 they may attain that laborious, that invidious, that closely- watch- 
 ed slavery which is mocked with the name of power.' You have 
 not asked my opinion of your speech." 
 
 " I was not aware that you heard it." 
 
 "Of course not, but I read it ; and, let me tell you, it was a 
 great speech, a masterly argument, that will make a lasting im- 
 pression upon the people. It has greatly changed the vote of 
 this county already." 
 
 " You mistake appearances ; the seed fell in good soil, but 
 party spirit came, as fowls of the air, and devoured them." 
 
 " At any rate, it produced a profound impression on public 
 opinion, and startled some of our political patriarchs." 
 
 " No, a mere transitory effect ; they have folded their arms 
 and gone to sleep again. I am, of course, gratified by your fa- 
 vorable appreciation of my effort, but I differ with you as to its 
 result. The plough-share of naked truth must thoroughly sub- 
 soil the mind of the Southern states before the future of the 
 country is realized in any degree ; as yet, the surface has been 
 but slightly grazed. The hydra-headed foe of democracy is slow- 
 ly but certainly coiling around our American eagle, and will 
 crush it, if not seared promptly. But, Mr. Mitchell, the ' flam- 
 mg brands ' are not ready." 
 
ALTAKS OF SACRIFICE. 245 
 
 " To wliat. liydra do you allude ?" 
 
 " Deniagogism, of course. Cleou was the prototype of a nu- 
 merous class ; the school is flourishing vigorously at the ^N'orth, 
 and no longer a stranger here. The people must root it out 
 speedily, or the days- of our national existence are numbered." 
 
 " History proves it an invariable concomitant of democracy ; 
 rather a rank off-shoot from than antagonistic to it." 
 
 " You confound the use and abuse of a system. Civilization 
 is, indisputably, a blessing to our race, yet an abuse of the very 
 improvements and discoveries that constitute its glory, entails in- 
 calculable sorrow, and swells criminal statistics. The march of 
 medical science has induced the administering of deadly poisons 
 with the happiest results, when skilfully directed ; yet it some- 
 times happens that fatal effects follow an over-dose. Powerful 
 political levers should be handled judiciously — not thrown into 
 clutches of^ignorant empirics." 
 
 " Universal suffrage is not your hobby, then ?" 
 
 " On the contrary, I hold, with one of the most brilliant 
 statesmen this country ever produced, that ' it is the Greek horse 
 introduced into the citidel of American liberties and sove- 
 reignty.' " 
 
 " On my honor, I am astonished at hearing you quote and en- 
 dorse a diclum of Hamilton. The millennium can't be far off, 
 when Democrats seek illustration from Federalism I" 
 
 " Bigotry in politics is as indefensible as in religion or science. 
 Truth is a sworn foe to monopolists ; is the exclusive right of no 
 one organization or party that ever waxed and waned. I am a 
 democrat ; I believe in liberal, enlarged, but not universal suf- 
 frage ; it is a precious boon, and should be hedged about with 
 cautious restrictions. The creation of the ephori was a sort of 
 compromise measure, a concession to appease the people of Spar- 
 ta, and, as an extension of the elective franchise, was most de- 
 plorable in its results. Universal suffrage always recall to my 
 mind the pithy criticism of Anacharsis, the Scythian pliilosopher, 
 on the Solonian code, which lodged too much power in the hands 
 of the people : * Wise men debate, but fools decide.' Mr. Mitch- 
 ell, it matters little whether we have one or one hundred million 
 
246 MACARIA ; OR, 
 
 tyrants, if our rights are trampled ; it is a mere question of taste 
 whether you call the despot Czar, Dictator, or Ballot-box. The 
 masses are electrical, and valuable principles of government 
 should be l^ept beyond the reach of explosion." 
 
 "And, except in a powerful centralization, where could you 
 place them for safety ?" 
 
 " They are already deposited in the constitution. I would, in 
 order to secure them, extend our naturalization laws so as to re- 
 strict the foreign vote, limit the right of suffrage by affixing a 
 property quaUfication, make the tenure of our judiciary offices 
 for life or good behavior, and lengthen the terra of administra- 
 tion of our chief magistrate, thereby diminishing the frequency 
 of popular elections, which, in offering premiums for demagog- 
 ism, has been a prolific cause of mischief. In examining the sta- 
 tistics of the "N'orthern and Western states recently, and noting 
 the dangerous results of the crude foreign vote, I was forcibly 
 reminded of a passage in Burke's ' Reflections on the French 
 Kevolutioa ' : ' Those who attempt to level, never equalize. In 
 all societies, consisting of various descriptions of citizens, some 
 description must be uppermost. The levellers, therefore, only 
 change and pervert the natm*al order of things ; they load the 
 edifice of society by setting up in the air what the solidity of the 
 structure requires to be on the ground.' The day is not far dis- 
 tant, I fear, when European paupers, utterly ignorant of our in- 
 stitutions, will determine who shall sit in the presidential chair , 
 and how far the co6stitiition shall be observed. These are grave 
 truths, which the enlightened body of the American people 
 should ponder well ; but, instead, they are made mere catch- 
 words for party purposes, and serve only to induce a new scram- 
 ble for office. It requires no extraordinary prescience to pre- 
 dict that the great fundamental principles of this government 
 will soon become a simple question of arithmetic — will lie at the 
 mercy of an unscrupulous majority. The surging waves of North- 
 ern faction and fanaticism already break ominously against 
 our time-honored constitutional dykes, and if the South would 
 strengthen her bulwarks there is no time to be slept or wrangled 
 away." 
 
ALTAR9 OF SACRIFICE. 24:7 
 
 As he spoko, Russell's eye fell upon a large oval vase on the 
 maiitle-pieeo filled willi rare exotics, whose graceful tendrils were 
 tastefully disposed into a perfumed fringe. Rising, he looked 
 carefully at the brilliant hues, and said, as he bent to inhale their 
 fragrance : 
 
 " Where do you grow such flowers at this season ?" 
 
 " Irene brings them almost everyday from the green-house cfa 
 the hill. She takes a peculiar pleasure in arranging them in 
 my vases. I think she stood a half-hour yesterday twining and 
 bending those stems the way she wanted them to hang. They 
 are so brittle that I snap the blossoms off, but in her hands they 
 seem pliable enough." 
 
 Russell withdrew the fingers which had wandered caressingly 
 amid the delicate leaves, and, reseating himself, took a book from 
 bis pocket. 
 
 ** Mr. MitcJicll, I dare say you recollect a discussion which we 
 had, some months ago, regarding the Homeric unity question ? 
 Since that time I have been looking into Payn« Knight's views 
 on the subject, and am more than ever convinced that the Ger- 
 man theory is incorrect. I will read a portion of his argument, 
 and leave the book for you to examine at your leisure." 
 
 " By all means ! But I thought your red-tape gyves kept you 
 from archaiologic researches ?'' 
 
 "It is true they do bind me tighter than I sometimes relish ; 
 but we are all in bondage, more or less, and, since one must sub- 
 mit to tyranny, I prefer a stern master." He drew his chair 
 nearer the lamp, and began to read aloud. Nearly a half-hour 
 passed thus, when the lil)rary door was opened hastily, and Irene 
 came in, dressed magnificently in party costume. She stood a 
 moment, irresolute and surprised, with her eyes fixed on Russell's, 
 then both bowed silently, and she came to the fire. 
 
 " How are you, uncle Eric? You look flushed, feverish." 
 She laid her cold pearly hand on his forehead, and stood at his 
 side. 
 
 " Tolerably comfortable, thanks to Mr. Aubrey, who has made 
 me almost forget my headache. You will be fashionably late at 
 the jiarty to-night." 
 
24:8 MACARIA ; OR, 
 
 " Yes ! as usual ; but for a better reason than because I wish 
 to be fashionable, I wanted to know how you were, and, as father 
 was not quite ready, I came in advance, and sent the carriage 
 back for him and Hugh. I was not aware that you were in Mr. 
 Aubrey's hands for the evening. You were reading, I believe ; 
 pardon my intrusion, and do not let me interrupt you." * 
 
 " Sit down, Irene ; here, child, where I can look at you. We 
 tan both bear such an interruption." 
 
 Russell closed the volume, but kept his finger in the leaves, 
 and his fascinated eyes went back to the face and form of the 
 heiress. The dress was of heavy blue silk, with an over-skirt 
 and bertha of rich white lace, looped with bunches of violets and 
 geranium leaves. The rippling hair was drawn smoothly over 
 the pure brow, and coiled at the bdck of the head under a blue 
 and silver netting, from which fuchsias of turquoise and pearl 
 hung low on the polished neck. The arms and ?lioulders gleam- 
 ed Hke ivory as the lamp-light glowed over her ; and, save the 
 firm, delicate crimson lips, there was no stain of color in the cold 
 but superbly beautiful face. It was the first time they had met 
 since that evening at the cemetery, many months before. Lift- 
 ing her splendid violet eyes, she met his gaze an instant, and, 
 tapping the book, Russell asked, with quiet nonchalance : 
 
 " Where do you stand. Miss Huntingdon, in this vexed 
 Wolfian controversy concerning the authorship of the Iliad and 
 Odyssey V 
 
 " I would render unto Ccesar the things that are Caesar's." 
 
 " Equivocal, of course ! — a woman's answer," laughed her un- 
 cle. 
 
 " Explicitly, then, I believe that, as Scott absorbed the crude 
 minstrelsy of Scotland, and reproduced national songs and le- 
 gends under a fairer, sweeter form, so Homer, grand old bUnd 
 eclectic, gathered the fragmentary myths of heroic ages, and, 
 clothing them with the melody of wandering Greek rhapsodists, 
 gave to the world his wonderful epic — the first and last speci- 
 men of composite poetic architecture." 
 
 " You ascribe the Odyssey, then, to a different author and a 
 later period ?" asked !Mr. Mitchell. 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 249 
 
 " I am too littre versed in philology to determine so grave a 
 question. My acquaintance with Greek is limited, and I am not 
 competent to the task of considering all the evidence in favor of 
 the identity of authorship." 
 
 She put an her white cashmere cIoaL and stood still a moment, 
 li.steni ng. 
 
 " Good-night, uncle Eric ; the carriage is coming. I believe 
 I '"^hould know the tramp of those horses 'amid a regiment of cav- 
 alry." 
 
 *' Why need you hurry off ? Let your father come in." 
 
 " I will spare him that trouble. Good-night, Mr. Aubrey." 
 
 She turned to leave the room, but, in gathering her cloak 
 around her, dropped her fan. Russell stooped to pick it up, and, 
 as he restored it, their hands met. His brow flushed, but not 
 even the pale pearly glow of a sea-shell crept to her cheek. 
 Again she raised her eyes to his, and a haughty, dazzling smile 
 flashed over her face as she inclined her head. 
 
 " Thank you, sir." . 
 
 There was a brief silence, broken by Eric, when the sound of 
 the carriage had died away. 
 
 " Irene is the only perfectly beautiful woman I ever saw ; and 
 yet, Aubrey, it makes me sad to watch her countenance." 
 
 " Whenever I see her I can not avoid recallins: an old Scan- 
 dinavian myth, she realizes so fully my ideal Iduna, standing at 
 the portals of Valhalla, offering apples of immortality." 
 
 lie returned at once to his book and read several pages, occa- 
 sionally pausing to call attention to some special passage ; final- 
 ly he rose, and took his hat. 
 
 " It is early yet, Aubrey ; don't go." 
 
 " Thank you ;' I must fulfill another engagement." 
 
 " A word before you leave ; will you be a candidate for the 
 legislature ?" 
 
 " Yes ; I was waited upon by a committee to-day, and my 
 name will be announced to-morrow. Good-niffht." 
 
 Slowly he walked back to town, and, once upon the main 
 street, took a new pair of gloves from his pocket, fitted them 
 carefully, and directed his steps to the elegant residence, wiiose 
 
250 MAC ARIA ; OR, 
 
 approach was well nigh blocked up with carriages. This was 
 the second time that he had been invited bj the Hendersons, and 
 he had almost determined to decline as formerly, but something 
 in Irene's chill manner changed his resolution. He knew, from 
 rarions circumstances, that the social edict against him was 
 being revoked in fashionable circles ; that because he had risen 
 without its permission, aid, or countenance, and in defiance of its 
 sneers, the world was beginning to court him. A gloomy scowl 
 sat on his stern lips as he mounted the steps of the mansion from 
 which his meek and sufiFering mother had borne bundles of plain 
 work, or delicate masses of embroidery, for the mother and 
 daughter who passed her in the street with a supercilious stare. 
 Beau-nwnde suddenly awoke to the recollection that, " after all, 
 Mrs. Aubrey belonged to one of the wealthiest and first families 
 in the state." At first Russell had proudly repelled all over- 
 tures, but gradually he was possessed by a desire to rule in the 
 very circle which had so long excluded his family. Most fully he 
 appreciated his position and the motives which actuated the social 
 
 autocrats of W ; he was no longer the poor disgraced 
 
 clerk, but the talented young lawyer, and prospective heir of Mr. 
 Campbell's wealth. Bitterly, bitterly came memories of early 
 trial, and now tlie haughtiness of Irene's manner stung him as 
 nothing else could possibly hava done. He was at a loss to 
 comprehend this change in one who had dared so much in order 
 to assist his family, and proud defiance arose in his heart. It 
 was ten o'clock, the/e^e was at its height ; the sound of music, 
 the shimmer of jewels, and rustle of costly silks mingled with the 
 hum of conversation, and the tread of dancing feet as Russell 
 deposited hat and over-coat in the dressing-room and entered the 
 blazing parlors. The quadrille had just ended, and gay groups 
 chattered in the centre of the.room ; among these, Maria Hen- 
 derson, leaning on Hugh's arm, and Grace Harris, who had been 
 dancing with Louis Henderson. As Russell crossed the floor to 
 speak to the host and hostess, all eyes turned upon him, and a 
 sudden hush fell on the merry dancers. 
 
 " Coaxed at last within the pale of civilization ! how did you 
 contrive it, Louis ?" asked Maria. 
 
ALTAK8 OF SACKIFICE. 261 
 
 "Oh ! lie declined when I invited hin ; but I believe father 
 saw him afterward and renewed the request. Do observe him 
 talkin.n; to mother ; he is as polished as if he had spent his life at 
 
 court." 
 
 " lie is a man whom I never fancied ; but that two hours 
 speech of his was certainly the finest effort I ever listened to. 
 Cffisars ambition was moderate in comparison w.itli Aubrey's ; 
 and, somehow, even against my will, I can't help admiring him, 
 he is so coolly independent," said Hugh, eyeing him curiously. 
 
 " I heard father say that the Democrats hi tend to send hhn 
 to the legislature next terra, and the opposition are bothered to 
 match him fully. By the way, they speak of Mr. Huntingdon 
 for their candidate. But here comes your hero, Miss Maria." 
 As he spoke, Charlie Harris drew back a few steps, and suffered 
 Russell to speak to the young lady of the 'house. Irene stood 
 not far off, talking to the Governor of the state, who chanced 
 
 to be on a brief visit to W , and quite near her Judge 
 
 Harris and her father were in earnest conversation. Astonished 
 at the sudden apparition, her eyes followed him as he bowed to 
 the members of the central group ; and as she heard the deep, 
 rich voice above the buzz of small talk, she waited to see if he 
 
 would notice her. Soon Governor G gave her his arm for 
 
 a promenade, and she found herself, ere long, very near Maria, 
 who was approaching with Russell. He was saying something, 
 at which she laughed delightedly ; just then his eye fell on Irene; 
 there was no token of recognition on the part of either ; but the 
 Governor, in passing, put out his hand to shake Russell's, and 
 asked for Mr. Campbell. Again and again they met during the 
 ensuing hour, but no greeting was exchanged ; then he disap- 
 peared. As Irene leaned against the window-frame in the 
 crowded supper-room she heard Charlie Harris gaily bantering 
 Maria on the events of the evening. 
 
 "What have you done with Aubrey ? I will challenge him 
 before to-morrow morning, for cutting me out of my schottische 
 with his prosy chat." 
 
 " Oh I he "left a half-hour ago ; excused himself to mother, ou 
 the plea of starting off to court at daybreak. " He is perfectlv 
 
^5li MAC ARIA ; OR, 
 
 fascinating ; don't you think so, Grace ? Sucli eyes and lips I 
 and such a forehead !" 
 
 " Don't appeal to me for corroboration, I beg of you, Maria, 
 for you really gave nobody else an opportunity of judging. Take 
 a friendly hint, and do not betray your admiration so publicly," 
 answered the friend, pouting her pretty childish lip. 
 
 " I see clearly that the remainder of us may as well go hang 
 ourselves at once for any future favor we can expect, since My 
 Lord Aubrey condescends to enter the lists. Miss Irene, I have 
 not heard you rhapsodizing yet about the new sensation." 
 
 " I rarely rhapsodize about anything, sir." 
 
 •* To whom does he allude," asked Governor G , good- 
 
 humoredly." 
 
 " To Mr. Aubrey, who is no stranger to you, I believe." 
 
 " Ah ! Campbell's partner. I liave had some correspondence 
 with him recently, and when I met him at his office yesterday I 
 was no longer surprised at the tone of his letters. His intellect 
 is one of the keenest in the state ; his logical and analytical 
 powers are of the rarest order. I shall watch his career with 
 great interest. Campbell may justly be' proud of him." 
 
 If she had felt any inclination to reply, the expression of her 
 father's face discouraged her. He had joined them in time to 
 hear the Governor's eulogium, and she saw a sneer distort his 
 features as he listened. Daring the drive homeward, Mr. Hun- 
 tingdon suddenly interrupted a strain of Hugh's nonsense by 
 exclaiming : 
 
 " People have certainly lost common-sense ! Their memory 
 is not as long as my little finger." 
 
 " What is the matter, sir ? With what recent proof of im- 
 becility have they favored you ?" 
 
 " The idea of that upstart wheedling this community is utterly 
 preposterous. His impudence is absolutely astounding. I am 
 Mstonished that Henderson should give him countenance !" 
 
 " The world has a strange criteria to determine its verdicts. 
 His father was sentenced to be hnng for committing murder ; 
 and my uncle, Clement Huntingdon, who deliberately shot a 
 man dead in a duel, was received in social circles as cordially as 
 
ALTAitS OF SACRIFICE. 253 
 
 if his hands wore not blood-stained. There was more of pallia- 
 tion in tlie first case (one of man-slaugliter), for it was the hasty, 
 accidental work of a moment of passion ; in the last a cool, pre- 
 meditated taking of human life. But the sensitive, fastidious 
 world caJled one brutal and disgraceful and the other ' honorable 
 satisfaction,' in which gentlemen could indulge with impunity 
 * by crossing state lines. O temporal O mores T 
 
 As Irene uttered these words, she involuntarily crushed her 
 bouquet and threw it from her, while Hugh expected an explo- 
 sion of wrath on the part of his uncle. He merely muttered an 
 oath, however, and smoked his cigar in sullen silence, leaving 
 the cousins to discuss the events of the party during the remain- 
 der of the ride. 
 
 Once more in his own room, at the quiet boarding-house, 
 Russell lighted the gas-burner over a small desk, and sat down 
 to a mass of papers. The apartment was cold; the fire had 
 long since died out ; the hearth looked ashy and desolate. 
 There was nothing home-like or cosy in the aspect of the room ; 
 the man lived at his office, and this was but a place to pass the 
 brief unconscious hours of sleep. He had no home-life, no social 
 existence ; was fast becoming callous, impervious to the gentler 
 emotions and kindly sympathies which domestic ties foster and 
 develop. Xo womanly touch left pleasant traces here, as iu 
 Eric's home ; no graceful, luxurious trifles met the eye ; all 
 things were cold, and prim, and formal. He had no kindred and 
 few friends, but unbounded aspiration stood in lieu of both. 
 Fortunately for him, his great physical strength enabled him to 
 pursue a course of study which men of feebler constitution could 
 never have endured. On the desk lay several volumes, carefully 
 annotated for future reference — Ricardo, Malthus, Say, and 
 Smith. To these he turned, and busied himself iu transferring 
 such excerpts as suited his purpose to an unfinished MS design- 
 ed for future legislative service. The brilliant smile which • 
 lighted his face an hour before, imparting an irresistible cliarm, 
 had wholly faded, leaving the features to tfieir wonted grave inamo- 
 bility — the accustomed non-committalism of the business man of 
 the world. The measured tones of the watchman on the to^n- 
 
254 MAC ARIA ; OR, 
 
 tower recalled him, finally, from the cold realm of political 
 economy ; he closed the books, took off his watch and wound it 
 up. It wanted but three hours to dawn ; but he heeded it not ; 
 the sight of the massive old watch brought vividly back the 
 boyish days of sorrow, and he sat thinking of that morning of 
 shame, when Irene came close to him, nestling her soft little 
 hand in his, and from some long-silent, dark, chill chamber of 
 memory leaped sweet, silvery, childish echoes : 
 
 " Oh, Russell I if I could only help you I" 
 
 With an involuntary sigh he arose, and walking to the chimney, 
 leaned his elbow on the mantle. But it would not answer ; the 
 faint, delicious perfume of violets seemed to steal up from the 
 gray ashes on the hearth, and the passionless, peerless face of a 
 queenly woman followed him from the haunts of fiishion. The 
 golden-haired dream of his early youth had lost none of her former 
 witchery ; f-he only shared the mastery of his heart with stern, 
 unrelaxing ambition, and the gulf which divided them only en- 
 hanced the depth, the holiness of his love for her. Since his 
 return from Europe he had accustomed himself to think of her 
 as Hugh's wife ; but he found it daily more difficult to realize 
 that she could willingly give her hand to her heedless, self-indul- 
 gent cousin ; and how the alteration in her manner toward him 
 perplexed and grieved him. Did she suspect the truth, and fear 
 that he might presume on her charity, in by-gone years ? To 
 liis proud spirit this was a suggestion singularly insulting, and 
 lie had resolved to show her in future that he claimed not even a 
 nod of recognition. Instead of avoiding her as formerly he 
 would seek occasions to exhibit an indifference which he little 
 thought that her womanly heart would rightly interpret. lie 
 had found it more difficult than he supposed to keep his attention 
 chained to Maria's and Grace's gay nonsense ; to prevent his 
 eyes from wandering to the face whose image was enshrined in 
 his lonely heart ; and now, with complex feelings of tenderness 
 and angry defiance, he sought his pillow for a short respite be- 
 fore the journey that waited but for daylight. 
 
 For ;i few weeks all W was astir with interest in the 
 
 impending election ; newspaper columns teemed with caustic 
 
ALTAKli OF SACRIFICE. 255 
 
 nrticles, ami ITuiitingdon and Aubrey cliiUs villifiod each other 
 witli the usual acrimony of such occasions. Mr. Campbell's 
 influence was extensive, but the Huntingdon supporters were 
 powerful, and the result seemed doubtful until the week previ- 
 ous to the election, wlien llussell, who had as yet taken no 
 active part, accepted the challenge of his opponent to a public 
 discussion. Themeethig was held in front of the court-house, 
 the massive stone steps serving as a temporary rostrum. The 
 night was dark and cloudy, but huge bonfires, blazing barrels 
 of pitch, threw a lurid glare over the broad street, now converted 
 into a surging sea of human heads. 
 
 Surrounded by a committee of select friends, Mr. Huntingdon 
 sat, confident of success ; and w^hen the hiss of rockets ceased, he 
 came forward and addressed the assembly in an hour's speech. 
 As a warm and rather prominent politician, he was habituated 
 to the task, and bursts of applause from liis own party frequently 
 attested the effect of his easy, graceful style, and pungent irony. 
 Blinded by personal hate, and hurried on by the excitement of 
 the hour, he neglected the cautious policy which had hitherto 
 been observed, and finally launched into a fierce philippic against 
 his antagonist — holding up for derision the melancholy fate of 
 his father, and sneeringly denouncing the '* audacious pretensions 
 of a political neophyte." 
 
 Groans and hisses greeted this unexpected peroration, and 
 many of his own friends bit their lips, and bent their brows iu 
 angry surprise, as he took his seat amid an uproar which would 
 have been respectable even in the days of the builders of Ba- 
 Ijel. llussell was sitting on the upper step, with his head lean- 
 ing on his hand, and his eyes fixed on the mass of up-turned, 
 eager faces, listening patiently to the lengthy address, expecting 
 just what he was destined to hear. At the mention of his family 
 misfortunes he lifted his head, rose, and advancing a few steps, 
 took off his hat, and stood confronting the speaker in full view of 
 the excited crowd. And there the red light, flaring over his 
 features, showed a calm, stern, self-reliant man, who felt that he 
 had nothing to blush for in the past or to dread in future. 
 When the tirade ended, when the tumult ceased and silence fell 
 
256 macaria: or, 
 
 upon the andience, he turned and fixed his deep, glowing eyes full 
 on the face of his opponent for one moment, smiling haughtily ; 
 then, as Mr. Huntingdon quailed before his witliering gaze, he 
 crossed his arms over his chest, and addressed the meeting. 
 
 He came, he said, to discuss questions of grave import to the 
 state, not the pedigree or antecedents of his antagonist, with 
 which, he supposed, the public had no concern. He could not 
 condescend to the level of the gentleman ; was not a proficient, 
 not his equal in slang phrases, or gross, vulgar vituperation, and 
 scorned to farther insult tlie good taste of his hearers by ac- 
 quainting them with the contemptible motives of tlie individual 
 hatred which had induced his opponet to forget what the rules 
 of good breeding and etiquette imperatively demanded. He 
 would not continue to disgrace the occasion by any refutation 
 of the exceedingly irrelevant portion of the preceding harangue, 
 which related to purely personal matters, and was unworthy of 
 notice, but asked the attention of his hearers for a few moments, 
 while he analyzed the platform of his party. Briefly he stated 
 the issues dividing the people of the state ; warned the opposi- 
 tion of the probable results of their policy, if triurapliant ; and, 
 with resistless eloquence, pleaded for a firm maintenance of the 
 principles of his own party. He was, he averred, no alarmist, 
 but he proclaimed that the people slept upon the thin heaving crust 
 of a volcano, wliich would inevitably soon burst forth ; and the 
 period was rapidly approaching when the Southern states, unless 
 united and on the alert, would lie bound at the feet of an inso- 
 lent and rapacious Northern faction. He demanded that, 
 through the legislatures, the states should appeal to Congress 
 for certain restrictions and guarantees, which, if denied, would 
 justify extreme measures on the part of the people. The man's 
 marvellous magnetism was never more triumphantly attested ; 
 the mass, who had listened in profound silence to every syllable 
 which had passed his lips, now vented their enthusiasm in pro- 
 longed and vociferous applause, and vehement cries of " Go on I 
 go on !" The entire absence of stereotyped rnodomontade ren- 
 dered his words peculiarly impressive, as he gave them utter- 
 ance with no visible token of enthusiasm. He did not lash the 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 257 
 
 passions of the populace into a passing phrensy, but effectually 
 stirred the great deep of sober feeling and sound sense. With 
 his elegant, graceful delivery, and polished, sparkling diction, he 
 stood, as it were, on some lofty cool pedestal, and pointed uner- 
 ringly to coming events, whose shadows had not yet reached them, 
 of which they had not dreamed before, and it was not wonderful 
 that the handsome young speaker became an idol to be worship- 
 ed afar off. 
 
 As he descended the steps and disappeared amid the shouts of 
 the crowd, Judge Harris turned to Mr. Huntingdon and said, 
 with ill-concealed annoyance : 
 
 " You have lost your election by your confounded impru- 
 dence." 
 
 " That remains to be seen, sir," was the petulant rejoinder. 
 
 "It is a foregone conclusion," muttered Dr. Arnold, button- 
 ing his over-coat, and looking around for his cane. 
 
 " I have sworn a solemn oath that I will trample the upstart 
 out of existence, at least politically !" 
 
 " As well try to trample on the stars yonder I Your speech 
 ruined you, I am afraid !" 
 
 The judge walked oft', pondering a heavy bet which he had re- 
 lative to the result. 
 
 By sunrise on the day of the election the roads leading to town 
 were crowded with voters making their way to the polls. The 
 drinking-saloons were full to overflowing ; the side-walks throng- 
 ed with reeling groups as the day advanced. Because the Hunt- 
 ingdon side bribed freely, the Aubrey partisans felt that they 
 must, from necessity, follow the disgraceful precedent. ?^ot a 
 lady showed her face upon the street ; drinking, wrangling, fight- 
 ing was the order of the day. Windows were smashed, buggies 
 overturned, and the police exercised to the utmost. Accompa- 
 nied by a few friends, Mr. Huntingdon rode from poll to poll, 
 encouraging his supporters, and drawing heavily upon his purse, 
 while Russell remained quietly in his office, well assured of the 
 result. At five o'clock, when the town polls closed, Russell's 
 votes showed a majority of two hundred and forty-four. Couriers 
 came in" constantly from country precincts, with equally favora- 
 
258 MACAKIA ; OR, 
 
 ble accounts, and at ten o'clock it was ascertained, beyond 
 doubt, that lie was elected. Irene and her uncle rode down to 
 learn the truth, and, not knowing'where to find Mr. Huntingdon, 
 stopped the carriage at the comer of the main street, and waited 
 a few moments. Yery soon a rocket whizzed through the air, 
 a band of music struck up before Russell's office, and a nuniber 
 of his adherents insisted that he should show himself on the bal- 
 cony. A crowd immediately collected opposite, cheering the suc- 
 cessful candidate, and calling for a speech. He came out, and, 
 in a few happy, dignified words, thanked them for the honor con- 
 ferred, and pledged himself to guard most faithfully the interests 
 committed to his keeping. After the noisy constituents had re- 
 tired, he stood talking to some friends, when he clianced to recog- 
 nize the fiery horses across the street. The carriage-top was 
 thrown back, and by the neighboring gas-light he saw Irene's 
 white face turned toward him, then the horses sprang off". Mr. 
 Campbell noticed, witliout understanding, the sudden start, and 
 bitter though triumphant smile that crossed his face in the midst 
 of pleasant gratulations. 
 
 " Go home, Andrew. I know now what I came to learn." 
 
 Irene sank back and folded her mantle closer around her. 
 
 " Is master elected ?" 
 
 '* No." 
 
 " Your father's speech, last week, was most unfortunate in 
 every respect," said her uncle, who felt indignant and mortified 
 at the course pursued by his brother-in-law. 
 
 " We will not discuss it, if you please, uncle Eric, as it is en- 
 tirely useless now." 
 
 " Don't you tuink that Aubrey deserves to succeed ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 Her dreary tone disconcerted him, and he offered no farther 
 comment, little suspecting that her hands were pressed hard 
 against her heart, and that her voiceless sorrow was : " Hence- 
 forth we must be still more estranged ; a wider gulf, from this 
 night, divides us." 
 
 The din, the tumult of the day, had hushed itself, and deep si- 
 lence brooded over the sleeping town, when, by the light of the 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 259 
 
 ncwly-riscn moou, Russell leaned upon the little gate and gazed 
 on the neglected cottage, overgrown with vines and crumbling to 
 ruin. A sweet, resigned face smiled at him once more from the 
 clustering tendrils that festooned the broken window, where, in 
 other years, his motlier had been wont to sit at work, watcliing 
 for his return ; and, in this hour of his first triumph, as he sought 
 the hallowed spot, and thought of her long martyrdom, recollec- 
 tion rolled its troubled waves over his throbbing, exultant heart, 
 until the proud head drooped on the folded arms, and tears fell 
 upon the mouldering gate. 
 
 ** Oh, mother ! mother ! if you could have lived to see this 
 day — to share my victory I" 
 
 " Ghost-like I paced round the haunts of my childhood, 
 
 Earth seemed a desert I was bound to traverse, 
 
 Seeking to find the old familiar faces. 
 
 t ***** ■n 
 
 All, all are gone, the old familiar faces !'' 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 The icy breath of winter, the mild wandering airs of spring, 
 the luxurious laissez-nous-faire murmurs of summer, and the sol- 
 emn moan of autumn, bad followed each other in rapid succes- 
 sion. Two years rolled on, stained with the tears of many, ring- 
 ing with the songs and laughter of a fortunate few. The paths 
 of some had widened into sunny pastures, flower-starred, Crida- 
 vana meadows ; others had grown narrower still, choked with 
 the debris of dead hopes, which the tide of time drifted from the 
 far-off glittering peaks of early a^^pirations. The witchery of 
 
 Southern spring again enveloped W , and Irene stood on 
 
 the lawn surveying the "greenery of the out-door world" that 
 surrounded her. Peach and plum orchards on the slope of a 
 neighboring hill wore their festal robes of promise, and as the 
 loitering breeze stole down to tlie valley, they showered rosy per- 
 fumed shells, tiny avant couriers of abundant fruitage. The 
 
260 MAC ARIA ; OR, 
 
 air was redolent with delicate distillations from a thousand flow- 
 ery laboratories, stately magnolias rustled their polished shim- 
 mering leaves, long-haired acacias trailed their fringy shadows 
 over the young wavering grass-blades ; and, far above the soft 
 gi-een wilderness of tangled willows, regal pines spread out their 
 wind-harps, glittering in the sunshine like spiculaa of silver. A 
 delicious langor brooded in the atmosphere, the distant narrow 
 valleys were full of purple haze ; beyond and above the town, 
 that nestled so peacefully along the river banks, the marble fin- 
 gers of the cemetery gleamed white and cold ; and afar off, and 
 over all, was heard the measured music of factory bells, chanthig 
 a hymn to sacred and eternal Labor. With her brown straw 
 hat in one hand and a willow-basket filled with flowers in the 
 other, Irene leaned against the glossy trunk of an ancient wild- 
 cherry tree, and looked in dreamy abstraction down the long 
 shadowy vista of venerable elms. Paragon lay panting on the 
 grass at her feet, now and then snapping playfully at the tame 
 pigeons who had followed their mistress out upon the lawn, flut- 
 tering and cooing contiuually around her ; and a few yards off 
 a golden pheasant and two peacocks sunned their gorgeous plu- 
 mage on the smoothly-cut hedges, 
 
 " . . . . Some faces show 
 The last act of a tragedy in their regard, 
 Though the first scenes be wanting ;'' 
 
 and in this woman's sad but intensely calm countenance, a joy- 
 less life found silent history. The pale forehead bore not a single 
 line, the quiet mouth no ripple marks traced by rolling years ; 
 but the imperial eyes, coldly blue as the lonely ice-girt Marjelen- 
 See, revealed, in their melancholy crystal depths, the dreary iso- 
 lation of soul with which she had been cursed from infancy. Her 
 face was an ivory tablet inscribed with hierogls-phics which no 
 social, friendly ChampolUon had yet deciphered. Satiated with 
 universal homage, weary of the frivolity of the gay circle sur- 
 rounding her, and debarred from all hope of affectionate, sympa- 
 thetic intercourse with her father, her real life was apart from 
 the world in which report said that she ruled supreme. She wan- 
 
ALTARS OF 8ACRIPICE. 261 
 
 dcred in tlie primeval temples of nature, and ministered, a soli- 
 tary i)ricstess, at tlie silent, blazing shrine of Astronomy. The 
 soft folds of her white muslin dress stirred now and then, and the 
 blue ribbons that looped back her braided hair fluttered like 
 mimic pennons in the breeze ; but the clematis bells which clus- 
 tered around her cameo pin were unshaken by the slow pulsa- 
 tions of her sad heart. She felt that her life was passing rapidly, 
 unimproved, and aimless ; she knew that her years, instead of 
 being fragrant with the mellow fruitage of good deeds, Avere te- 
 dious and joyless, and that the gaunt, numbing hand of ennui 
 was closing upon her. The elasticity of spirits, the buoyancy of 
 youth had given place to a species of stoical mute apathy ; a men- 
 tal and moral paralysis was stealing over her. 
 
 The slamming of the ponderous iron gate attracted her atten- 
 tion, and she saw a carriage ascending the avenue. As it reach- 
 ed a point opposite to the spot where she stood it halted, the 
 door was thrown open, and a gentleman stepped out and ap- 
 proached her. The form was not familiar, and the straw hat 
 partially veiled the features, but he paused before her, and said, 
 with a genial smile : 
 
 " Don't you know me ?" 
 
 *' Oh, Harvey I My brother ! My great guardian angel !" 
 
 A glad light kindled in her face, and she stretched out her 
 hands with the eagerness of a delighted child. Time had pressed 
 heavily upon him ; wrinkles were conspicuous about the corners 
 of his eyes and mouth, and the black hair had become a steely 
 gray. He was not 
 
 " A little sunburnt by the glare of life,'' 
 but weather-beaten by its storms ; and, in lieu of the idiosyncra- 
 tic placidity of former days, a certain restlessness of expression 
 betokened internal disquiet. Holding her hands, he drew her 
 nearer to him, scrutinized her features, and a look of keen sor- 
 row crossed his own as he said, almost inaudibly : 
 
 " I feared as much I I feared as much 1 The shadow has 
 spread." 
 
 " You kept Punic faith with me, sir ; you promised to write, 
 and failed. I sent you one letter, but it was never answered." 
 
262 MACAKIA ; OK, 
 
 " Through no fault of mine, Irene ; I never received it, be- 
 lieve me. True, I expected to write to you frequently when I 
 parted with you, but subsequently determined that it would be 
 best not to do so. Attribute my silence, however, to every other^ 
 cause than want of remembrance." 
 
 " Your letters would have been a great stay and comfort to 
 me." 
 
 " Precisely for that reason I sent none. I knew that you 
 must Wily upon yourself ; that I could not properly judge of the 
 circumstances which surrounded and influenced you. Oue, at 
 least, of my promises has been "faithfully fulfilled : I have prayed 
 for you as often as for myself in all these years of separation." 
 
 " God only knows how I have wanted, how I have needed 
 you, to guide and strengthen me." 
 
 She raised the two hands that still held hers, and bowed her 
 forehead upon them. 
 
 " You had a better friend, dear child, always near you, who 
 would have given surer guidance and borne all your burdens. 
 What I most dreaded has come to pass. You have forgotten 
 your God." 
 
 " Xo ! indeed, no ! but He has forsaken me." 
 
 " Come and sit down here, and tell me what the trouble is." 
 
 He led her to a circular seat surrounding a~ venerable oak, 
 and placed himself where he could command a full view of 
 her face. 
 
 " Mr. Young, you must have had a hard life out west ; you 
 have grown old so fast since I saw you. But you have been 
 doing good, and that is sufiBcient recompense." 
 
 " I have, of course, endured some hardships inseparable from 
 such a long sojourn on the frontier, but my labors have been so 
 successful that I forget everything in my great reward. Many 
 a fair June day I have wished that you could see my congrega- 
 tion, as we stood up to sing in a cool, shady grove of beech or 
 hackberry, offering our orisons in ' God's first temples.' No 
 brick and mortar wallSj but pavements of God's own living green, 
 and dome of blue, and choir of sinless, consecrated birds. My 
 little log cabin in the far West is very dear to me, for around it 
 
ALTAES OF SACRIFICE. 2G3 
 
 cluster some of the most precious reminiscences of my life. The 
 greatest of my unsatisfied wants was tliat of congenial companion- 
 ship. I betook myself to gardening in self-defence, and finer an- 
 nuals you never saw than those which I laised on my liill-side. 
 My borders I made of mignonette, and the rusty front of my 
 cabin I draped with beautiful festoons of convolvulus. My her- 
 mitage was pleasant enough, though hufiihle indeed." 
 
 " Tell me the secret of your quiet contentment. By what spell 
 do you invoke the atmosphere of happy serenity that constantly 
 surrounds you ?" 
 
 " It is neither occult nor cabalistic ; you will find it contained 
 in the few words of Paul : ' Be ye steadfast, unmoveable, always 
 abounding in the work of the Lord ; forasmuch as ye know that 
 your labor is not in vain in the Lord.' There is nothing recon- 
 dite in this injunction ; all may comprehend and practice it." 
 
 " It may seem so to you, who dispense peace and blessings 
 wherever you move ; but to me, alone and useless, cut off from 
 such a sphere of labor, it might as well be locked up in Parsee. 
 I thought once that God created every human being for some 
 particular work — some special mission. That, in order that the 
 vast social machinery of the world might move harmoniously, 
 each had his or her allotted duties in accordance with the great 
 fundamental law of economy — 'division of labor.' But, like 
 many oth^r youthful theories, I have been compelled to part 
 with this, also." 
 
 " Rather hold fast to it, for the precious truth it is. Do you 
 not find, on reflection, that the disarrangement, the confusion in 
 this same social mill proves that some of the human cogs are 
 broken, or out of place, or not rendering their part ? I am 
 older than you, and have traveled farther, and I have yet to see 
 the New Atlantis, where every member of society discharges 
 fully the duties assigned. 
 
 " ' I might say, in a -world full of lips that lack bread, 
 And of souls that lack light, there are mouths to be fed, 
 There are wounds to be healed, there is work to be done, 
 And life can withhold love and duty from none !' " 
 
 ** Irene, ' why stand ye here all the day idle ?' "W'hy wait 
 
264 MACARIA ; OK, 
 
 afar off to glean, wliere you should be a busy reaper in God's 
 whitening harvest-fields ? — closing your ears to the eager cry, 
 * The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few I" 
 
 A wintry smile flitted over her lips, and she shook her 
 head. 
 
 " Ah, sir I long ago I marked out a different programme ; 
 but my hands are tied. I am led along another path ; I can do 
 nothing now." 
 
 " You owe allegiance first to your Maker. What stands be- 
 tween you and your work ? Irene, tell me, what is this dark 
 cloud that shuts out sunshine from your heart, and throws such 
 a chill shadow over your face ?" 
 
 He drew down the hand with which she shaded her eyes, and 
 bent his head till the gray locks touched her cheek. She did 
 not shrink away, but looked at him steadily, and answered : 
 
 " It is a cloud that enveloped me from the hour of my birth, 
 and grows denser each year ; I can neither escape from nor dis- 
 sipate it. It will not break in storms and clear away ; but, per- 
 chance, as I go down to my tomb the silver lining may show 
 itself. The sun was eclipsed when I first opened my eyes in this 
 world, and my future was faithfully adumbrated. I am not 
 superstitious, but I cannot be bhnd to the striking analogy — the 
 sombre symbolism." 
 
 His grave face was painfully convulsed as he listened to her, 
 and it was with difiBculty that he restrained himself from draw- 
 ing the head to his shoulder, and revealing all the depth and 
 strength of love which had so long ruled his heart and saddened 
 his life. But he merely enclosed her hand in both his with a 
 gentle pressure, and said : 
 
 " Carry out your metaphor, and at least you must admit that, 
 though the sun was eclipsed, stars come out to light you." 
 
 " But, at best, one shivers and gropes through the cold light 
 of stars, and mine have all set in a clouded sky. You only are 
 left to me ; you shine on me still, undimmed, all the brighter for 
 my gloom. Oh ! if I could have you always. But as w^ell 
 stretch out my hands to clutch the moon." 
 
 He started, and looked at her wistfully, but the utter passion- 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 265 
 
 lessness of her face and manner showed him all too plainly the 
 nature of her feelings and her ignorance of his own. 
 
 " Irene, you deal in similies and vague generalities. Has ab- 
 sence shaken your confidence in me ? Be frank ; tell me 
 what this haunting trouble is, and let me help you to exor- 
 cise it." 
 
 " You can not. All the Teraphim of the East would not 
 avail. Let it suffice that, many years since, I displeased my 
 father in a trifling matter ; and, as I grew older, my views and 
 wishes conflicted with his. I disappointed a darling plan which 
 he had long cherished, and we are estranged. We live here, 
 father and daughter, in luxury ; we give and go to parties and 
 dinners ; before the world we keep up the semblance of affection 
 and good feeling ; but he can not, will not, forgive me. I have 
 ceased to ask or to expect it ; the only possible condition of re- 
 conciliation is one to which I can never consent ; and, for more 
 than two years, he has scarcely spoken to me except when com- 
 pelled to do so. I pass my days in a monotonous round, wishing 
 for to-morrow, and my nights yonder, among the stars. I have 
 little money to dispense in charity ; I dress richly, but the ma- 
 terials are selected by my father, who will have my clothing of 
 the costliest fabrics, to suit his elegant and fastidious taste. 
 Though an only child, and presumptive heiress of one of the finest 
 estates at the South, I have not a dime in the world which I can 
 call my own, except a small sum which he voluntarily allows me 
 per annum. Mark you, I do not complain of my father— for, in 
 the twinkhng of an eye, I could change this unnatural position of 
 affairs in my home ; I only mention some stern facts to prove to 
 you that my hands are tied. It was once the fondest desire of 
 my life to expend the fortune that I supposed belonged to me in 
 alleviating suffering and want, and making people happy around 
 me ; but, like other dewy sparkles of childhood, this hope 
 vanished as the heat and strife of life overtook me." 
 
 She spoke in a low, measured tone, unshaken by emotion, and 
 the expression of dreary abstraction showed that she had long 
 accustomed herself to this contemplation of her lot. The minis- 
 
 12 
 
266 MACARIA ; OR, 
 
 ter was deeply moved as he watched her beautiful calm features, 
 so hushed in their jo3'lessncss, and he passed his hand across his 
 eyes to wipe away the moisture that so unwontedly dimmed 
 them. lie pressed her fingers to his lips, and said, encour- 
 agingly— 
 
 " Lift thyself ap ! oh, thou of saddened face ! 
 Cease from thy sighing, draw from oat thy heart 
 The joyful light of faith." 
 
 " You asked me once to be your brother ; my dear child, ,let 
 me prove myself such now ; let me say that, perhaps, it is your 
 duty to yield obedience to your father's wishes, since this deplor- 
 able alienation results from your refusal. You never can be 
 happy, standing in this unnatural relation to an only parent. 
 Because it is painful, and involves a sacrifice on your part, should 
 you consider it any the less your duty ? Has he not a right to 
 expect that his wishes should guide you ?" 
 
 She rose instantly, and, withdrawing her hands, folded them 
 together, and replied, with an indescribable mingling of hauteur 
 and sorrow : 
 
 " Has he a right to give ray hand to a man whom I do not 
 love ? Has he a right to drag me to the altar, and force me to 
 swear to ' love and honor' one whom I can not even respect ? 
 Could you stand by and see your father doom your sister to 
 such a miserable fate ? I would consent to die for my father 
 to-morrow, if thereby I might make him happy ; but I can not 
 endure to live, and bring upon myself the curse of a loveless 
 marriage ; and God is my witness, I never will I" 
 
 Her eyes gleamed like blue steel, and the stern, gem-like fea- 
 tures vividly reminded him of a medal of the noble Medusa which 
 he had frequently examined and admired while in Rome. In 
 that brief flash he saw, with astonishment, that beneath the 
 studiedly calm exterior lay an iron will, and a rigidness of pur- 
 pose, which he had never conjectured Ijclonged to her character. 
 
 " Forgive me, Irene ; I retract my words. Ignorant of the 
 nature of the demand, I should not have presumed to counsel 
 you. Keep true to the instincts of your own heart, and you 
 will never go far astray in the path of duty. May God bless and 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 267 
 
 comfort you ! Otlier frieuds can lend you no assistance in these 
 peculiar circumstances." 
 
 lie could not trust himself to say more, for feelings too pain- 
 ful for utterance stirred the depths of his soul. 
 
 For some moments silence reigned ; then, standing before him, 
 Irene said, with touching pathos : 
 
 " My friend, I am so desolate I so lonely I I am drifting 
 down the current of life aimless, hopeless, useless I What shall 
 I do with my future ? I believe I am slowly petrifying ; I 
 neither suffer nor enjoy as formerly ; my feelings are deadened ; 
 I am growing callous, indifferent to everything. I am fast los- 
 ing sympathy for the sorrows of others, swallowed up in self, 
 oblivious of the noble aspirations of promise. I am cut off from 
 companionship ; have no friend save an uncle, to whom I could 
 put out my hand for support. People talk of the desolation of 
 Western wilds and Eastern deserts ; but, oh ! God knows tliere 
 is no isolation comparable to that of a woman who walks daily 
 through halls of wealth and gay saloons, knowing that no hu- 
 man being understands or truly sympathises with her. My pro- 
 phet ! as you long ago foretold, lam 'treading the wine-press 
 alone.' Once more I ask you, what shall I do with my life ?" 
 
 " Give it to God." 
 
 " Ah ! there is neither grace nor virtue in necessity. He will 
 not accept the worthless thing thrown at His feet, as a dernier 
 resort. Once it was my choice, but the pure, clear-eyed faith 
 of my childhood shook hands with me when you left me in New 
 York." 
 
 For a short while he struggled with himself, striving to over- 
 come the unconquerable impulse which suddenly prompted him, 
 and his face grew pallid as hers as he walked hiustily across the 
 smooth grass and came back to her. Her countenance was lifted 
 toward the neighboring hill, her thoughts evidently far away, 
 when he paused before her, and said, unsteadily : 
 
 " Irene, my beloved ! give yourself to me. Go with me into 
 God's vineyard ; let us work together, and consecrate our lives 
 to His service." 
 
 The mesmeric eyes gazed into his, full of wonder, and the rich 
 
268 
 
 MACAEIA ; OE, 
 
 ruby tint fled from her lips as she pondered his words in un- 
 feigned astonishment, and shaking her regal head, answered, 
 slowly : 
 
 " Harvey, I am not worthy. I want your counsel, not your 
 pity." 
 
 " Pity ! you mistake me. If you have been ignorant so long, 
 know now that I have loved you from the evening you first sat 
 in my study looking over my foreign sketches. You were then 
 a child, but I was a man, and I knew all that you had so sud- 
 denly become to me. Because of this great disparity in years, 
 and because I dared not hope that one so tenderly nurtured 
 could ever brave the hardships of my projected life. I deter- 
 mined to quit New York earlier than I had anticipated, and to 
 bury a foolish memory in the trackless forests of the far AYest. 
 I ought to have known the fallacy of my expectation ; I have 
 proved it since. Your face followed me ; your eyes met mine at 
 every turn ; your glittering hair swept on every breeze that 
 touched my cheek. I battled with the image, but it would not 
 avail ; I resolved not to write to you, but found that the dearest 
 part of my letters from home consisted of the casual allusions which 
 they contained to you. Then came tidings from Louisa that you 
 were probably married — had long been engaged to your cousin ; 
 and, though it wrung my heart to think of you as the wife of 
 another, I schooled myself to hope that, for your sake, it might 
 be true. But years passed ; no confirmation reached me ; and 
 the yearning to look on your dear face once more took possession 
 of me. My mother wrote, urging me to visit her this summer, 
 and I came out of my way to hear of and to see you. The world 
 sneers at the possibility of such a love as mine, and I doubt not 
 that it is very rare among men ; but, through all the dreary sep- 
 aration, I have thought of you as constantly, and fondly, and 
 tenderly as when I first met you in my father^s house. Irene, 
 you are young, and singularly beautiful, and I am a gray-haired 
 man, much, much older than yourself ; but, if you live a thou- 
 sand years, you will never find such afiection as I offer you now. 
 There is nothing on earth which would make me so happy as the 
 possession of your love. You are the only woman I have ever 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 2G9 
 
 seen whom T even wisli to call my wife — the only woman who, I 
 felt, eonld lend new cliann to life, and make my quiet hearth 
 happier by her presence. Irene, will you share my future ? Can 
 yon give me what I ask ?" 
 
 The temptation was powerful — the future he held out enticing 
 indeed. The strong, hol}^, manly love, the noble heart and head 
 to guide her, the firm, tender hand to support her, the constant, 
 congenial, and delightful companionship — all this passed swiftly 
 through her mind : but, crushing all in its grasp, came the me- 
 mory of one whom she rarely met, but who held undisputed sway 
 over her proud heart. 
 
 Drawing close to the minister, she laid her hands on his 
 shoulder, and, looking reverently up into his fine face, said, in 
 her peculiarly sweet, clear voice : 
 
 " The knowledge of your priceless, unmerited love makes me 
 proud beyond degree ; but I would not mock you by the misera- 
 ble and only return I could make you — the affection of a devo- 
 ted sister. I would gladly, thankfully go with you to your 
 Western home, and redeem my past by my future — ^but, as your 
 wife, I could not ; and, without the protection of your honored 
 name, it would not be permitted me to accompany you. I look 
 up to you as to no other human being ; I revere and love you, 
 Harvey ; and, oh I I wish that I could pass my life at your 
 side, cheered by your smile, doing some good in the world. That 
 I do not love you as you wish, is my great misfortune ; for I ap- 
 preciate most fully the noble privilege you have tendered me. I 
 do not say what I earnestly wish could happen, that you will find 
 some one else who can make you happy, because I feel that no 
 woman whom I have ever met is worthy of being your wife. But 
 I trust that the pain I may give you now will soon pass away, 
 and that, in time, you will forget one who is utterly undeserving 
 of the honor you have conferred on her to-day. Oh, Harvey ! 
 do not, I beg of you, let one thought of me ever disquiet your 
 noble, generous heart." 
 
 A shiver crept over her still face, and she drooped her pale 
 forehead. She felt two tears fall upon her hair, and in silence 
 
270 MACAEIA ; OR, 
 
 he bent down and kissed her softly, tenderly, as one kisses a 
 
 sleeping babe. 
 
 *' Oh, Harvey ! do not let it grieve you, dear friend !" 
 
 He smiled sadly, as if not daring to trust himself in words ; 
 
 then, after a moment, laying his hands upon her head, in the 
 
 baptism of a deathless love, he gently and solemnly blessed her. 
 
 When his fingers were removed she raised her eyes, but he had 
 
 gone ; she saw only the retreating form through the green arches 
 
 of the grand old avenue. 
 
 " Unlike are we, unlike, princely heart ! 
 Unlike our uses and our destinies. 
 Our ministering two angels look surprise 
 On one another, as they strike athwart 
 
 Their wings in passing 
 
 The chrism is on thine head— on mine the dew, 
 And death must dig the level where these agree." 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 Says D'Alembert : " The industry of men is now so far ex- 
 hausted in canvassing for places, that none is left for fulfilling 
 the duties of them ;" and the history of our government furnishes 
 a melancholy parallel. The regular quadrennial storm had swept 
 over the nation ; caucuses had been held and platforms fiercely 
 fought for, to be kicked away, plank by plank, when they no 
 longer served as scaffolding by which to climb to office. Bu- 
 chanan was elected, but destined to exemplify, during his admin- 
 istration, the truth of Tacitus' words : '' He was regarded as 
 greater than a private man whilst he remained in privacy, and 
 would have been deemed worthy of governing if he had never 
 governed." The heat of the canvass cooled, people settled down 
 once more to a condition of lethargic indifference — bought and 
 sold, sowed and reaped, as usual — little realizing that the tem- 
 porary lull, the perfect calm, was treacherous as the glassy green 
 expanse of waters which, it is said, sometimes covers the location 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 271 
 
 of the all-<lestroying maelstrom of Moskoe. ITaving taken an 
 active and prominent part in the presidential campaign, and 
 made frequent speeches, Russell found himself again opposed by 
 Mr. Huntingdon, who was equally indefatigable during the ex- 
 citing contest. The old feud received, if possible, additional 
 acrimony, and there were no bounds to the maledictions heaj^ed 
 upon the young and imperturbable legislator by his virulent an- 
 tagonist. Many predicted a duel or a street encounter ; but 
 weeks passed, and though, in casual meetings, Mr. Huntingdon's 
 glare of hate was always answered by a mocking smile of cold 
 disdain, the cloud floated off without breaking into bloody 
 showers. 
 
 Mr. Mitchel's health had failed so rapidly, as winter approach- 
 ed, that Dr. Arnold persuaded him to try the efficacy of a sea- 
 voyage, and he had accordingly sailed from New Orleans in a 
 vessel bound for Genoa. Irene begged the privilege of accompa- 
 nying him, but her father peremptorily refused ; and she saw 
 her uncle depart, and superintended the closing of his house, with 
 silent sorrow, and the feeling of one who knows' that the night is 
 deepening around her. In the course of the political cataclysm 
 much chaff came to the surface, and whirled along with porten- 
 tous alacrity ; gossip seemed to have received a new impetus, 
 and among the most important ondiis, was that of Irene's 
 speedy marriage to her cousin. Hundred-tongued rumor w^as 
 busy, too, with the mysterious fact that Russell had placed 
 a handsome iron raiUng around the humble home of his boy- 
 hood ; had removed the little three-roomed crumbling dwelling, 
 and planted shade trees. Much curiosity was excited, and the 
 only plausible solution at wdiich the kindly inquiring public 
 arrived was, that he intended to marry somebody. But whom ? 
 He occasionally visited at Judge Harris' and Mr. Henderson's, 
 and, as he had been seen last at the house of the former, by a 
 species of not very abstruse ratiocination it was finally decided, 
 and promulgated as a social edict, that the talented young 
 lawyer would soon claim Grace's hand at the altar. In less 
 than twenty-four hours all of fashionable W had dis- 
 cussed the young lady's brilliant future, and were ready to 
 
272 MACARIA • OR, 
 
 tender their congratulations to the ambitious man, who was 
 utterly unconscious of the commotion which his individual plans 
 and actions had induced. This insatiable mania for obtaining 
 information about other people's affairs and puiposes, this ridicu- 
 lous and contemptible tittle-tattle, this news-mongering, scandal- 
 pedlaring proclivity, characteristic of cities, towns, villages, and 
 even country neighborhoods, should certainly have been included 
 by the Massachusetts seer in his catalogue of " social inflictions 
 which the magistrate cannot secure or defend you from, and 
 which must be intrusted to the restraining force of custom, and 
 proverbs, and familiar rules of behavior impressed on young 
 people in their school days ;" and I trust I may be allowed the 
 additional suggestion, " by mothers around the hearthstone." 
 But, unfortunately, the admirable adage '' il faut attendre le 
 boiteux'^ finds no acceptation in beau tnonde. 
 
 Late in the afternoon of Christmas day Irene ' went into the 
 green-house to gather a bouquet for an invalid friend in towTi, 
 and had almost accomplished her errand when the crash and 
 whir of wheels drew her to the window that looked out on the 
 lawn. Her father had gone to the plantation early that morn- 
 ing, and she had scarcely time to conjecture whom the visitor 
 would prove, when Hugh's loud voice rang through the house, 
 and, soon after, he came clattering in, with the end of his panta- 
 loons tucked into his boots and his whip trailing along in true 
 boyish fashion. As he threw down his hat, scattering the petals 
 of a snowy camelia, and drew near his cousin, she saw that his 
 face was deeply flushed, and his eyes somewhat bloodshot. 
 
 " Hugh I what are you doing here ? Father expected you 
 to overtake him at Crescent Bend ; you said last night that you 
 would start by five o'clock." 
 
 " Merry Christmas, my beauty ! I have come for my Christ- 
 mas gift. Give it to me, like the queen you are." 
 
 He stooped as if to kiss her, but she shrank back instantly, 
 and said, gravely ; 
 
 " You ought not to make promises which you have no idea of 
 keeping ; father will be annoyed, and wonder very much what 
 has happened. He was anxious that you should go with him." 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 273 
 
 " Oh I confound the plantation 1 I wish it wonld sink 1 Of 
 all other days none but Christmas will suit him to tramp down 
 there through mud and mire. The fact is, I did not go to sleep 
 till four o'clock, and nobody ought to be unchristian enough to 
 expect me to wake up in an hour. You may be quiet, though, 
 for I am on my way now to that paradise of black mud. I only 
 stopped to get a glimpse of you, my Sappho ! my Corinna ! so 
 don't horailize, I pray you." 
 
 " Better wait till daylight, Hugh ; you know the state of the 
 roads and condition of the bridges. It will be safer, and an 
 economy of time, to defer it till morning, since you h%ve made it 
 so late." 
 
 " No ; I must go to-night, for I have an engagement to ride 
 with Maria Henderson, and I can't get back in time if I wait till 
 to-morrow morning. I want to start back day after to-morrow. 
 As for time, Wildfire will make it the better for the darkness ; 
 he is as much afraid of night and shadows as if he had a con- 
 science, and had maltreated it, master-like. I shall convince him 
 that all Tam O'Shanter's witches are in full pursuit, and his 
 matchles9»heels his only salvation." 
 
 A shade of apprehension settled on her face, and, placing the 
 bouquet in a basket, she turned to her cousin, saying : 
 
 " Indeed, you can not be insane enough to drive that horse 
 such a night as this weather threatens. If go you will, in the 
 face of a coming rain, leave Wildfire here, and drive one of the 
 carriage-horses instead. I shall be uneasy if you start with that 
 vicious, unmanageable incarnation of lightning. Let me ring the 
 bell and direct Andrew to make the change." 
 
 She stepped into the parlor adjoining, and laid her fingers 
 on the bell-cord, but he snatched up the hand and kissed it sev- 
 eral times. 
 
 " No I I'll be hanged if I don't drive my own pearl of Ara- 
 l:)ia I I can manage him well enough ; and, beside, what do you 
 care whether he breaks my neck or not ? Without compunc- 
 tion you broke my heart, which is much the greater catastrophe." 
 
 " Come into the library ; you don't know what you are say- 
 ing." 
 
 12* 
 
274 MACARIA ; OB, 
 
 She drew him into the room, where a warm fire burned cheer- 
 fully, and made him sit down. 
 
 " Where did you go last night when you left here ? Tell me." 
 
 " To Harry Neal's ; a party of us were invited there to drink 
 egg-nog, and, of course, found something stronger afterward. 
 
 Then we had a game or so of poker, and , the grand j?wa/e 
 
 is, that I have had a deuced headache all day. Ah, my sweet 
 saint ! how shocked you are, to be sure I Now, don't lecture, 
 or I shall be off like a flash." 
 
 Without answering, she rang the bell and quietly looped back 
 the heavy ^rimson curtains. 
 
 " What is that for ? Have you sent for John or old !N"ellie to 
 carry me up stairs, like other bad boys sent to bed in disgrace, 
 without even the cold comfort of supper ?" 
 
 " Hush, Hugh ! hush." 
 
 Turning to John, who opened the door and looked in, she 
 said : 
 
 " Tell William to make some strong coffee as soon as possible. 
 Mas' Hugh has a headache, and wants some before he leaves." 
 
 "Thank you, my angel I my unapproachable Peril Ugh I 
 how cold it is. Pardon me, but I really must warm my feet." 
 
 He threw them carelessly on the fender of the grate. 
 
 " Shall I get you a pair of slippers ?" 
 
 " Could not afford the luxury ; positively have not the time 
 to indulge myself." 
 
 With a prolonged yawn he laid his head back and closed his eyes. 
 An expression of disgust was discernible in his companion's coun- 
 tenance, but it passed like the shadow of a summer cloud, and 
 she sat down at the opposite side of the fire-place, with her eyes 
 bent upon the hearth, and the long silky lashes sweeping her 
 cheeks. A silence of some minutes ensued ; finally Hugh rapped 
 startlingly on his boot with the ivory handle of his whip, and ex- 
 claimed : 
 
 " A Quaker-meeting is no part of my programme I What the 
 mischief are you thinking about ? — looking as solemn as an arch- 
 bishop in canonicals I" 
 
 " Do you really want to know what I am thinking of?" 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 275 
 
 " Of course I do, if it is not something as supernal and far off 
 as the stars, which you have takeu under your special protection 
 and patronage." 
 
 " I was thinking of a passage which I read yesterday, and 
 wishing that it could be framed and hung up in every dwelling. 
 Emerson says : ' Goethe said well, " nobody should be rich but 
 those who understand it.'* They should own who can adminis- 
 ter, not they who hoard and conceal ; not they wlio, the greater 
 proprietors they are, are only the greater beggars ; but they 
 whose work carves out work for more, opens a path for all. For 
 lie is the rich man in whom the people are rich, and he is the 
 poor man in whom the people are poor ; and how to give all ac- 
 cess to the master-pieces of art and nature, is the problem of civ- 
 ihzation.' Weighed in this balance, how many of our million- 
 aires, think you, would find Belshazzar's warning traced on their 
 walls ?" 
 
 " All of which, I suppose, I am to interpret into a polite cir- 
 cumlocutory way of telling me that I am a worthless spendthrift, 
 squandering away a fortune which I don't deserve, and a disgrace 
 to my fair cousinly Lady Bountiful ? When do you contemplate 
 mounting a pedestal, marble image that you are, folding those 
 incomparable hands of yours, and encouraging idolatry ? I pro- 
 mise you I shall fall down and worship most irreproachably. 
 But seriously, Irene, if you do not admire my style of living, why 
 don't you take me in hand, as is your privilege, and make me a 
 model of strait-laced propriety ?" 
 
 " You might, with very great advantage to yourself, take a 
 little common-sense in hand. Of course, Hugh, you are your 
 own master, but it frequently pains me to see you throwing away 
 your life and privileges so recklessly. You might do a vast 
 amount of good with your money, if you felt disposed to employ 
 it benevolently and judiciously." 
 
 " Well, whose fault is it ? I offered to make you my banker, 
 and let you dispense charities for both of us, and you snatched 
 back your dainty fingers in haughty refusal. If I play Prodigal 
 to the end of the chapter, you are responsible for it." 
 
 *' Begging your pardon, sir, I am no scape-goat for any of 
 
276 macaria; or, 
 
 your short-comings. Shoulder your own peccadilloes, if you 
 please. But here comes your cofifee. Put the waiter on the 
 table, John, and tell Andrew to take Mas' Hugh's buggy." 
 
 " Do nothing of the kind \ but send somebody to open that 
 everlasting gate, which would not have disgraced ancient Thebes. 
 Are you classical, John ? Be off, and see about it ; I must 
 start in five minutes." 
 
 " Hugh, be reasonable for once in your life ; you are not in a 
 proper condition to drive that horse. For my sake, at least, be 
 persuaded to wait till morning. Will you not remain, to oblige 
 me ?" 
 
 " Oh, hang my condition I I tell you I must and I will go, 
 if all the stars fall and judgment day overtakes me on the road. 
 What splendid coffee you always have ! The most fastidious of 
 bashaws could not find it in his Moorish heart to complain." 
 
 He put on his hat, buttoned his costly fur coat, and, flourish- 
 ing his whip, came close to his cousin. 
 
 " Good-by, beauty. I hate to leave you ; upon my word I 
 do ; but duty before pleasure, my heavenly-eyed monitress. I 
 have not had my Christmas present yet, and have it I will." 
 
 " On one condition, Hugh ; that yon drive cautiously and mod- 
 erately, instead of thundering down hills and over bridges like 
 some express train behind time. Will you promise ?" 
 
 " To be sure I will I everything in the world ; and am ready 
 to swear it, if you are sceptical." 
 
 ''Well then, good-by, Hugh, and take care of yourself." 
 
 She allowed him to press his hot lips to hers, and, accompany- 
 ing him to the door, saw him jump into the frail open-topped 
 buggy. Wildfire plunged and sprang off in his usual style, and, 
 with a crack of the whip and wave of his hat, Hugh was fairly 
 started. 
 
 Seven hours later Irene sat alone at the library table, absorb- 
 ed in writing an article on Laplace's Nebular Theory for the sci- 
 entific journal to which she occasionally contributed over the sig- 
 nature of " Sabaean." Several books, with close " marginalias," 
 were scattered around, and the " M6canique Celeste " and a vol- 
 ume of '* Cosmos" lay open before her. The servants had gone 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 277 
 
 to rest ; the lionse was very still, the silence unbroken save by 
 the moan of tiie wind and the melancholy tapping of the poplar 
 branches agaimst the outside. The sky was black, gloomy as 
 Malbolgc ; and, instead of a hard, pattering rain, a fine, cold 
 mist drizzled noiselessly down the panes. Wrapped in her work, 
 Irene wrote on rapidly till the clock struck twelve. She count- 
 ed the strokes, saw that there remained but one page uncopied, 
 and concluded to finish the MS. At last she affixed her nom 
 de plume, numbered the pages, and folded the whole for trans- 
 mission. The fire was still bright ; and, with no inclination to 
 go to sleep, she replaced the books on their respective shelves, 
 turned up the wick of the lamp, and sat down close to the grate 
 to warm her stiffened fingers. Gradually her thoughts wander- 
 ed from the completed task to other themes of scarcely less in- 
 terest. The week previous she had accompanied Hugh to an 
 operatic concert given by the Parodi troupe, and had been as- 
 tonished to find Russell seated on the bench in front of her. He 
 so rarely showed himself on such occasions, that his appearance 
 elicited some comment. They had met frequently since the eve- 
 ning at Mr. Mitchell's, but he pertinaciously avoided recognizing 
 her ; and, on this particular night, though he came during an in- 
 terlude to speak to Grace Harris, who sat on the same row of 
 seats with Irene, he never once directed his eyes toward the lat- 
 ter. This studied neglect, she felt assured, was not the result 
 of the bitter animosity existing between her father and himself ; 
 and though it puzzled her for a while, she began finally to sus- 
 pect the true nature of his feelings, and, with woman's rarely 
 erring instincts, laid her finger on the real motive which prompt- 
 ed him. The report of his engagement to Grace had reached 
 her some days before, and now if recurred to her mind like a 
 haunting spectre. She did not believe for an instant that he was 
 attached to the pretty, joyous girl whom rumor gave him ; but 
 she was well aware that he was ambitious of high social position,, 
 and feared that he might possibly, from selfish, ignoble reasons, 
 seek an alliance with Judge Harris' only daughter, knowing that 
 tlie family was one of the wealthiest and most aristocratic in the 
 state. She recollected, with unutterable scorn, the frequent 
 
278 MAC ARIA ; OE, 
 
 sneers at his blind mother, in which Grace, Charlie, and even 
 Mrs. Harris had indulged in the season of trial and adversity ; 
 and, pondering all that she had silently endured because of her 
 sympathy with him and his mother, a feeling of bitterness, here- 
 tofore unknown, rose in her heart. True, impassable barriers 
 divided them : but she could not endure the thought of his wed- 
 ding another — it tortured her beyond all expression. With a 
 suffocating sensation she unfastened the cameo pin that held her 
 rohe de chambre at the throat, and threw back the collar. 
 Taking out her comb, she shook down her hair, gathered it up 
 in her hands, and tossed it over the back of her chair, whence it 
 fell to the floor, coiling there in glittering rings. Life had seem- 
 ed dreary enough before ; but, with this apprehension added, it 
 appeared insupportable, and she was conscious of a degree of 
 WTetchedness never dreamed of or realized heretofore. Not even 
 a sigh escaped her ; she was one of a few women who permit no 
 external evidences of suffering, but lock it securely in their own 
 proud hearts, and in silence and loneliness go down into the 
 " glioul-hauuted," darkened chambers to brood over it, as did the 
 Portuguese monarch the mouldering remains of his murdered 
 wife. The painful reverie might, perhaps, have lasted till the 
 pallid dawn looked in with tearful eyes at the window, but Par- 
 agon, who was sleeping on the rug at her feet, started up and 
 growled. She raised her head and listened, but only the ticking 
 of the clock was audible, and the wailing of the wind through 
 the leafless poplars. 
 
 " Down, Paragon ! hush, sir »" 
 
 She patted his head soothingly, and he sank back a few seconds 
 in quiet, then sprang up with a loud bark. This time she heard 
 an indistinct sound of steps in the hall, and thought : " Nellie 
 sees my light through the window, and is coming to coax me up 
 stairs." Something stumbled near the threshold, a hand struck 
 the knob as if in hunting for it, the door opened softly, and, muf- 
 fled in his heavy cloak, holding his hat in one hand, Russell Au- 
 brey stood in the room. Neither spoke, but he looked at her 
 with such mournful earnestness, such eagar yet grieved compassion, 
 that she read some terrible disaster in his eyes. The years of 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 279 
 
 estrangement, all that had passed since their childhood, was for- 
 gotten : studied conventionalities fell away at the sight of him 
 standing there, for the first time, in her home. She crossed the 
 room with a quick, uncertain step, and put out her hands toward 
 him — vague, horrible apprehension blanching the beautiful lips, 
 which asked shiveringly : 
 
 " What is it, Russell ? what is it ?" 
 
 He took the cold little hands tremblingly in his, and endeavored 
 to draw her back to the hearth, but she repeated ; 
 
 " What has happened ? Is it father, or Hugh ?" 
 
 " Your father is well, I believe ; I passed him on the road 
 yesterday. Sit down, Miss Huntingdon ; you look pale and 
 faint." 
 
 Her fingers closed tightly over his ; he saw an ashen hue set- 
 tle on her face, and in an unnaturally calm low tone, she asked : 
 
 " Is Hugh dead ? Oh, my God ! why don't you speak, Rus- 
 sell ?" 
 
 " He did not suffer much ; his death was too sudden." 
 
 Her face had such a stony look that he would have passed his 
 arm around her, but could not disengage his hand ; she seemed 
 to cling to it as if for strength. 
 
 " Won't you let me carry you to your room, or call a servant ? 
 You are not able to stand." 
 
 She neither heeded nor heard him. 
 
 " Was it that horse ; or how was it ?" 
 
 " One of the bridges had been swept away by the freshet, and, 
 in trying to cross, he missed the ford. The horse must have been 
 frightened and unmanageable, the buggy was overturned in the 
 creek, and your cousin, stunned by the fall, drowned instantly ; 
 life was just extinct when I reached him." 
 
 Something like a moan escaped her, as she listened. 
 
 " Was anything done ?" 
 
 " We tried every means of resuscitation, but they were entirely 
 ineffectual." 
 
 She relaxed her clasp of his fingers, and moved toward the 
 door. 
 
280 MACAEIA ; OR, 
 
 " Where are you going, Miss Huntingdon ? Inded you must 
 sit down." 
 
 " Russell, you haye brought him home ; where is he ?" 
 
 Without waiting for an answer, she walked down the hall, and 
 paused suddenly at the sight of the' still form resting on a grey 
 traveling-blanket, with a lantern at its head, and an elderly man, 
 a stranger, sitting near, keeping watch. Russell came to her 
 side, and, drawing his arm around her, made her lean upon him. 
 He felt the long, long lingering shudder which shook the elegant, 
 queenly figure ; then she slipped down beside the rigid sleeper, and 
 smoothed back from the fair brow the dripping, curling, auburn hair. 
 
 " Hugh, my cousin ! my playmate ! Snatched away in an hour 
 from the life you loved so w^ell. Ah ! the curse of oui* house has 
 fallen upon you. It is but the beginning of the end. Only two 
 of us are left, and we, too, shall soon be caught up to join you." 
 
 She kissed the icy lips which a few hours ago had pressed hers 
 so warmly, and, rising, walked up and down the long hall, Rus- 
 sell leaned against the wall, with his arms crossed over his chest 
 and his head bent low, waiting for her to speak again. But, calm 
 and tearless, she walked on and on, iu profound silence, till he 
 grew restless at the strange sound of her hair trailing along the 
 oil-cloth, and once more approached her. 
 
 ''Are you entirely alone ?" 
 
 " Yes, except the servants. Oh, Russell I how am I to break 
 this to my father ? He loves that boy better than everything 
 else ; infinitely better than he ever loved me. How shall I tell 
 him that Hugh is dead — dead ?" 
 
 " A messenger has already gone to inform him of what has 
 happened, and this distressing task will not be yours. Herbert 
 
 Blackwell and I were riding together, on our return from T , 
 
 when we reached the ford where the disaster occurred. Finding 
 that all our efforts to resuscitate were useless, he turned back, and 
 went to your father's plantation to break the sad intelligence to 
 him." 
 
 His soothing, tender tone touched some chord deep in her 
 strange nature, and unshed tears gathered for the first time in 
 her eyes. 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 2S1 
 
 " As yon have no friend near enough to call upon at present, 
 I will, if 3'ou desire it, wake the servants, remain, and do all that 
 is necessary until morning." 
 
 " If you please, Russell ; I shall thank you very much." 
 As her glance fell upon her cousin's gleaming face, her lip 
 fluttered, and she turned away and sat down on one of the sofas 
 in the parlor, dropping her face in her hands. A little while 
 after, the light of a caudle streamed in, and Russell came with a 
 cushion from the library lounge, and his warm cloak. He wrapped 
 the latter carefully about the drooping form, and would have placed 
 her head on the silken pillow, but she silently resisted without 
 looking up, and he left her. It was a vigil which she never forgot ; 
 the slow hours crushed her as they rolled, the very atmosphere 
 seemed filled with the curse which brooded inexorably over the 
 ancient house, and when, at last, the eastern sky blanched, and 
 the wan forehead of the day lifted itself sadly up, it seemed, indeed, 
 as if — 
 
 " The dim red morn had died, her journey done, 
 And with dead lips smiled at the twilight plain. 
 Half-fallen across the threshold of the sun, 
 Never to rise again." 
 
 Shaking off her covering, Irene passed into the green-house, and 
 broke clusters of jasmine and spicy geranium leaves, and,thus en- 
 gaged, her glance fell upon the dashed camella petals which Hugh 
 had rumed so recklessly the previous evening. They seemed fit- 
 ting symbols, as they lay in withering heaps, of the exuberant life 
 so suddenly cut short — the gay, throbbing heart so unexpectedly 
 stilled. 
 
 " * ♦ * Life struck sharp on death 
 
 Makes awful lightning." 
 
 And she felt a keen pang at sight of his cambric handkerchief, 
 which had been dropped unconsciously between two branching 
 fuchsias. As she stooped and picked it up, his name stared at her, 
 and the soft folds gave out the powerful breath of bergamot, of 
 which he was particularly fond. She turned away from the wealth 
 of beauty that mocked her sorrow, and walked on to the 
 library. 
 
282 MACARIA ; OK, 
 
 The fire had died out entirely, the curtains were drawn back 
 to let in the day, on the library table the startling glare of white 
 linen showed the outlines of the cold young sleeper, and Russell 
 slowly paced the floor, his arms crossed, as was their habit, and 
 his powerful form unweariedly erect. She stood by the table, 
 half-irresolute, then folded down the sheet, and exposed the hand- 
 some, untroubled face. She studied it long and quietly, and with 
 no burst of emotion laid her flowers against his cheek and mouth, 
 and scattered the geraniums over his pulseless heart. 
 
 " I begged him not to start yesterday, and he answered that 
 he would go, if the stars fell and judgment day overtook hhn. 
 Sometimes we are prophets unawares. His star has set — his day 
 has risen I Have mercy on his soul ! oh, my God I" 
 
 The voice was low and even, but wonderfully sweet, and in the 
 solemn morning light her face showed itself gray and bloodless-; 
 no stain of color on the still lips, only the blue cord standing out 
 between the brows, sure signet of a deep distress which found no 
 vent. Russell felt a crushing weight lifted fi'om his heart ; he 
 saw that she had " loved her cousin, cousinly — no more ;" and 
 his face flushed when she looked across the table at him, with 
 grateful but indescribably melancholy eyes, which had never been 
 closed during that night of horror. 
 
 " I have come to relieve you, Russell, from your friendly watch. 
 Few would have acted as you have done, and for all your generous 
 kindness to poor Hugh I thank you most earnestly, as well for 
 my father as myself. The day may come, perhaps, when I shall 
 be able to prove my gratitude, and the sincerity of my friendship, 
 which has never wavered since we were children together. Until 
 that day, farewell, Russell ; but believe that I rejoice to hear of 
 your successes." 
 
 She held out her hand, and, as he took it in his, which trem- 
 bled violently, he felt, even then, that there was no quiver in the 
 icy white fingers, and that his name rippled over her lips as calmly 
 as that of the dead had done just before. She endured his long, 
 searching gaze, like any other Xiobe, and he dropped the little 
 pearly hand and quitted the room. She heard l^is quick step 
 ring changes down the long hall and stony steps, and, when 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 283 
 
 all was still again, she knelt beside the table, and, crossing her 
 arms over it, bowed her face upon them. Now and then the ser- 
 vants looked in, but crept away awed, closing the door stealthily ; 
 and as the day advanced, and the news of what had happened flew 
 through the town, friends came to offer assistance and condolence. 
 But none dare disturb or address the kneeling figure, veiled by 
 waving hair, and giving no more sign of life than the form before 
 her. At ten o'clock Mr. Huntingdon returned, and, with his hat 
 drawn over his eyes, went straight to the library. He kissed the 
 face of the dead passionately, and his sob and violent burst of 
 sorrow told his child of his arrival. She lifted her rigid face, and 
 extended her arms, pleadingly. 
 
 " Father 1 father 1 here, at least, you will forgive me 1" 
 He turned from her sternly, and answered, with bitter em- 
 phasis ; 
 
 " I will not 1 But for you, he would have been different, and 
 this would never have happened." 
 
 " Father, I have asked for love and pardon for the last time. 
 Perhaps, when you stand over my dead body, you may remem- 
 ber that you had a child who had a right to your affection. 
 God knows, if it were possible, I would gladly lay my weary head 
 down to rest, here on Hugh's bier, and give him back to your 
 arms. Life is not so sweet to me that I would not yield it up to- 
 day without a murmur." 
 
 She bent down and kissed her cousin, and, with a hard, bitter 
 expression in her countenance, went up to her own room, locking 
 out Paragon and old Nellie, who followed cautiously at her 
 heels. 
 
 *' For the drift of the Maker is dark, an Isis Lid by the veil. 
 WTio knows the ways of the world, how God will bring them about ?♦' 
 
284 macaria; or, 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 " "Where are you going, Irene V 
 
 " Ouly to the Factory-row." 
 
 " For what, I should like to know ?" 
 
 "To see Bessie Davis, who has been very ill." 
 
 " Fiddle-stick I I want the carriage myself. I promised to 
 send down to the hotel for Judge Peterson, who is coming to 
 spend the night here." 
 
 "Of course, father, if you want Andrew, I do not wish to 
 interfere with your arrangements. I did not know that you in- 
 tended to use the carriage. John, tell Andrew to drive the 
 horses back to the stable-yard until called for, and have Erebus 
 saddled at once. Unpack that flat basket I left on the pantry- 
 shelf, and put the things into one with a handle, that I can 
 carry in my hand. The egg-basket wiU do very well ; it has a 
 cover." 
 
 She went to her room, changed her dress for her riding- 
 habit, and came down to the front door, where her father sat 
 smoking. 
 
 " What are you going to do with that basket ? Erebus won't 
 suffer you to carry it." 
 
 "Yes, sir ; he will suffer just what I please to take. I have 
 a bottle of wine, some jelly, and some light bread, for poor Mrs. 
 Davis." 
 
 " What sort of wine ?" 
 
 " Not your high-priced sherry or port, but a pint bottle of 
 Madeira. Tighten that girth for me, Andrew, if you please ; the 
 saddle turned the last time I rode." 
 
 " I'll bet that you will let that basket fall before you get to 
 the gate, and lose every drop in it. It is all nonsense I sheer 
 nonsense 1" 
 
 She made no reply, but mounted the beautiful, spirited animal, 
 who arched his neck and curveted at sigUt of the basket. Pat- 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 285 
 
 ting his mane soothingly, she hnng the basket securely on the 
 pommel of the saddle, and rode off. 
 
 " He is wilder to-day than he was when I first bought him ; 
 he will break her neck yet, I have n't a doubt," muttered Mr. 
 Huntingdon, looking after her. 
 
 " No he won't, master ; she can tame him down any minute. 
 Last week she wanted to ride, but he had got out into the creek 
 pasture, and I could n't catch him. I raced him for a half-hour 
 up and down, and could n't come near him ; I tried him with 
 corn and fodder, but he ran like a deer. I give it up, sir, and 
 told Miss Irene he was in one of his tantrums, and I could do 
 nothing with him. She just put on her hat and walked over to 
 the pasture, and the minute he saw her coming he neighed two 
 or three times, and, before I could get to her, she had her hand 
 on his mane, patting him, and he was rubbing his head against 
 her. Miss Irene can tame anything in this world, she has such 
 a steady, conquering look in her eyes." 
 
 Such were Andrew's reassuring words, as, with his hat on the 
 back of his head, and both hands thrust into his deep pockets, 
 he stood watching his young mistress, until a turn in the road 
 obscured both horse and rider, then walked back to the stable. 
 
 It was a cold afternoon in November — 
 
 ** And Autumn, laying here and there 
 A fiery finger on the leaves," 
 
 had kindled her forest conflagration. Golden maples and amber- 
 hued cherries, crimson dog-woods and scarlet oaks shook out 
 their flame-foliage and waved their glowing boughs, all dashed 
 and speckled, flecked and rimmed with orange and blood, ghastly 
 green, and tawny brown. The hectic spot bm-ned everywhere, 
 save on the solemn, sombre pines that lifted themselves defiantly 
 far above the fevered region of decay. Royal clusters of golden- 
 rod were blackened and seared by the lips of an early frost, and 
 pallid, starry asters shivered and dropped their faded petals as 
 the wind bowed their fragile heads. The smoky atmosphere, 
 which had hung all day in purple folds around the distant hills, 
 took a golden haze as the sun sank rapidly ; and to Irene's gaze 
 
286 MACAEIA ; OR, 
 
 river and wood-land, hill-side and valley, were brimmed with that 
 weird " light which never was on sea or land." Her almost 
 " Brahminical" love of nature had grown with her years, but a 
 holier element mingled with her adoration now ; she looked 
 beyond the material veil of beauty, and bowed reverently before 
 the indwelling Spiritual Presence. Only during these silent hours 
 of communion afforded by her solitary rides was the shadow lifted 
 from her heart, and at such times immemorial Cybele's fingers, 
 soft and warm, touched the still face, and the icy lines melted. 
 Since Hugh's death, nearly a year before, she had become a re- 
 cluse, availing herself of her mourning dress to decline all social 
 engagements, and during these months a narrow path opened 
 before her feet, she became a member of the church which she 
 had attended from infancy, and her hands closed firmly over her 
 life work. The baffling Sphinx, that had so long vexed her, sat 
 no more at the cross-roads of her existence ; she found an (Edi- 
 pus in the far more than cabalistic words : 
 
 " Thy path is plain and straight, that light is given, 
 Onward in faith ! and leave the rest to heaven." 
 
 Sorrow and want hung out their signs among the poor of 
 
 W , and here, silently, but methodically, she had become, 
 
 not a ministering angel certainly, but a generous benefactress, a 
 noble, sympathetic friend — a counsellor whose strong good sense 
 rendered her advice and guidance valuable indeed. By a system 
 of rigid economy she was enabled to set apart a small portion of 
 money which she gave judiciously, superintending its investment ; 
 kind, hopeful words she scattered like sunshine over every threshold; 
 and here and there, where she detected smouldering aspiration, 
 or incipient appreciation of learning, she fanned the spark with 
 some suitable volume from her own library, which, in more than 
 one instance, became the germ, the spring of " a joy for ever." 
 Frequently her father threw obstacles in her way, sneering all 
 the while at her " sanctimonious freaks." Sometimes she affect- 
 ed not to notice the impediments, sometimes frankly acknowl- 
 edged their magnitude and climbed right over them, on to her 
 work. Among the factory operatives she found the greatest 
 
ALTAES OF SACRIFICE. 287 
 
 need of ameliorating touches of every kind. Improvident, 
 illiterate, in some cases, almost brutalized, she occasionally found 
 herself puzzled aS to the proper plan to pursue ; but her 
 womanly heart, like the hidden jewelled levers of a watch, guided 
 the womanly hands unerringly. 
 
 This evening, as she approached the row of low white-washed 
 houses, a crowd of children swarmed out, as usual, to stare at 
 her. She rode up to a door-step where a boy of some fourteen 
 years sat sunning himself, with an open book on his knee and a 
 pair of crutches beside him. At sight of her a bright smile broke 
 over his sickly face and he tried to rise. 
 
 " Good-evening, Philip ; don't get up. How are you, to-day V^ 
 
 " Better, I thank you, ma'm ; but very stiff yet." 
 
 " The stiffness will pass off gradually, I hope. I see you have 
 not finished your book yet ; how do you like it ?" 
 
 " Oh ! I could bear to be a cripple always, if I had plenty like 
 it to read." 
 
 " You need not be a cripple ; but there are plenty more, just 
 as good and better, which you shall have in time. Do you think 
 you cQuld hold my horse for me a little while ? I can't find a 
 suitable place to tie him. He is gentle enough if you will only 
 hold the reins." 
 
 " Certainly, ma'm ; I shall be glad to hold him as long as you 
 like." 
 
 She dismounted, and, taking her basket, placed the bridle in 
 the boy's hand, saying encouragingly, as Erebus put up his ears 
 and looked vicious : 
 
 " Don't be afraid of him. Speak to him quietly if he gets 
 restless, and if you can't keep him in order, call me ; I am going 
 in next door." 
 
 He smiled assent, and wrapped the bridle round his wrist, and 
 returned eagerly to his treasure, Simms' " Life of Nathaniel 
 Green," while Irene passed into the adjoining house. Some 
 sick rooms are inviting from the costly display of marble, rose- 
 wood, velvet and silver, from the tasteftd arrangement of books 
 and flowers, from the air of delicacy and affectionate considera- 
 tion which pervades them. But those where poverty stands grim 
 
288 MAC ART A ; OR, 
 
 and gaunt on the hearth are rarely enticing, and to this dreary- 
 class belonged the room where Bessie Davis had suffered for 
 months, watching the sands of life run low, and the shadow of 
 death growing longer across the threshold day by day. The 
 dust and lint of the cotton-room had choked the springs of life, 
 and on her hollow cheeks glowed the autograph of consumption. 
 She stretched out her wasted hand, and said : 
 
 " Ah, Miss Irene 1 I heard your voice outside, and it was 
 pleasant to my ears as the sound of the bell when work-hours 
 are over. I am always glad to see your face, but this evening I 
 was longing for you, hoping and praying that you would come. 
 I am in trouble." 
 
 " About what, Mrs. Davis ? K'othing serious, I hope ; tell 
 me." 
 
 " I don't know how serious it is going to be. Johnnie is sick 
 in the next room, taken yesterday ; and, about noon to-day 
 Susan had to knock off work and come home. Hester is the 
 only one left, and you know she is but a baby to work. I don't 
 like to complain of my lot, God knows, but it seems hard if we 
 are all to be taken down." 
 
 " I hope they will not be sick long. What is the matter with 
 Johnnie ?" 
 
 " Dear knows I I am sure I don't ; be complains of the head- 
 ache and has fever, and Susan here seems ailing the same way. 
 She is as stupid as can be — sleeps all the tune. My children 
 have had measles, and whooping-cough, and chicken-pox, and 
 scarlet fever, and I can't imagine what they are trying to catch 
 now. I hear that there is a deal of sickness showing itself in 
 the row." 
 
 *' Have you sent for the doctor ?" asked Irene, walking around 
 to the other side of the bed, and examining Susan's pulse. 
 
 "Yes, I sent Hester ; but she said he told her he was too 
 busy to come." 
 
 ''Why did you not apply so some other physician ?" 
 
 " Because Dr. Brandon has always attended me, and, as I sent 
 for him first, I didn't know whether any other doctor would like 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 289 
 
 to come. You know some of tbcm have very curious notions 
 about their dignity." 
 
 " And sometimes, while they pause to discuss etiquette, hu- 
 manity suffers. Susan, let me see your tongue. Who else is 
 sick in the row, Mrs. Davis ?" 
 
 " Three of Tom Brown's children, two of Dick Spencer's, and 
 Lucy Hall, and Mary Moorhead. Miss Irene, will you be good 
 enough to give me a drink of water ? Hester has gone to try to 
 find some wood, and I can't reach the pitcher." 
 
 " I brought you some jelly ; would you like a little now, or 
 shall I put it away in the closet ?" 
 
 " Thank you ; I will save it for my Johnnie, he is so fond of 
 sweet things ; and, poor child 1 he sees 'em so seldom now-a-day.'^ 
 
 " There is enough for you and Johnnie too. Eat this, while I 
 look after him, and see whether he ought to have any this even- 
 ing." 
 
 She placed a saucer filled with the tempting amber-hued deli- 
 cacy on the Uttle pine table beside the bed, and went into the 
 next room. The boy, who looked about seven or eight years 
 old, lay on a pallet in one corner, restless and fretful, his cheeks 
 burning, and his large brown eyes sparkling with fever. 
 
 "Johnnie, boy ! what is the matter? Tell me what hurts 
 you ?" 
 
 " My head aches so badly," and tears came to the beautiful 
 childish eyes. 
 
 "It feels hot. Would you like to have it bathed in cold 
 water ?" 
 
 " If you please, ma'am. I have been calling Hettie, and she 
 won't hear." 
 
 " Because she has gone out. Let me see if I can't do it just 
 as well as Hettie." 
 
 She hunted about the room for a cloth, but, finding nothing 
 suitable, took her cambric handkerchief, and, after laving his 
 forehead gently for ten or fifteen minutes, laid the wet folds upon 
 it, and asked, smilingly : 
 
 '' Does n't that feel pleasant ?" 
 
 " Ever so nice, ma'm — if I had some to drink." 
 
 13 
 
290 macaria; or, 
 
 She put the dripping gourd to his parched lips, and, after 
 shaking up his pillow and straightening the covering of his pallet, 
 she promised to see him agmn soon, and returne-d to his mother. 
 
 " How does he appear to be, Miss Irene ? I had him moved 
 out of this room because he said my coughing hurt his head, and 
 his continual fretting worried me. I am so weak now, God 
 help me !" and she covered her eyes with one hand. 
 
 "He has some fever, Mrs. Davis, but not more than Susan. I 
 will ask Dr. Arnold to come and see them this evening. This 
 change in the weather is very well calculated to make sickness. 
 Are you entirely out of wood ?" 
 
 " Very nearly, ma'm ; a few sticks left." 
 
 "When Hester comes, keep her at home. I will send you 
 some wood. And now, how are you ?" 
 
 " My cough is not quite so bad ; the pectoral holds it a little 
 in check ; but I had another hemorrhage last night, and I am 
 growing weaker every day. Oh, Miss Irene ! what will become 
 of my poor little children when I am gone ? That is such an 
 agonizing thought." She sobbed as she spoke. 
 
 " Do not let that grieve you now. I promise you that your 
 children shall be taken care of. I will send a servant down 
 to stay here to-night, and perhaps some of the women in the row 
 will be willing to come in occasionally and help Hester till Susan 
 gets able to cook. I left two loaves of bread in the closet, and 
 will send more in the morning, which Hester can toast. I shall 
 go by town, and send Dr. Arnold out." 
 
 " I would rather have Dr. Brandon, if you please." 
 
 " Why ?" 
 
 " I have always heard that Dr. Arnold was so gruff and un- 
 feeling, that I am afraid of him. I hate to be snapped up when 
 I ask a question." 
 
 " That is a great mistake, Mrs. Davis. People do him injus- 
 tice. He has one of the kindest, warmest hearts I ever knew, 
 though sometimes he is rather abrupt in his manner. If you 
 prefer it, however, I will see your doctor. Good-by ; I will 
 come again to-morrow," 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 291 
 
 As she took her bridle from Philip's hand, the boy looked up 
 at her with an expression bordering on adoration. 
 
 " Thank you, Philip ; how did he behave ?" 
 
 " Not very well ; but he is beautiful enough to make up for 
 his wildness." 
 
 " That is bad doctrine ; beauty never should excuse bad be- 
 havior. Is your mother at home ?'' 
 
 " No, ma'm." 
 
 " When she comes, ask her I say please to step in now and 
 then, and overlook things for Mrs. Davis ; Susan is sick. Philip, 
 if it is not asking too much of you, Johnnie would like to have 
 you sit by him till his little sister comes home, and wet that cloth 
 which I left on his head. "Will you ?" 
 
 " Indeed I will ; I am very glad you told me. Certainly I 
 will." 
 
 " I thought so. Don't talk to him ; let him sleep if he will. 
 Good-by." 
 
 She went first to a wood-yard on the river, and left an order 
 for a cord of wood to be sent immediately to No. 13, Factory- 
 row ; then took the street leading to Dr. Brandon's office. A 
 servant sat on the step whistling merrily ; and, in answer to her 
 question, he informed her that his master had just left town, to 
 be absent two days. She rode on for a few squares, doubling 
 her veil in the hope of shrouding her features, and stopped once 
 more in front of the door where stood Dr. Arnold's buggy. 
 
 " Cyrus, is the doctor in his office ?" 
 
 " Yes, Miss Irene." 
 
 " Hold my horse for me." 
 
 She gathered the folds of her riding-habit over her arm, and 
 went up stairs. Leaning far back in his chair, with his feet on 
 the fender of the grate, sat Dr. Arnold, watching the blue smoke 
 of his meerschaum curl lazily in faint wreaths over his head ; and 
 as she entered, a look of pleasant surprise came instantly into 
 his cold, clear eyes. ♦ 
 
 " Bless me ! Irene, I am glad to see you. It is many a day 
 since you have shown your face here ; sit down. Now, then, 
 what is to pay ? You are in trouble of course ; you never think 
 
292 MAO ARIA ; OB, 
 
 of me except when you are. Has old Nellie treated herself to 
 another spell of rheumatism, or Paragon broke his leg, or small- 
 pox broke out anywhere ; or, worse than all, have the hawks 
 taken to catching your pigeons ?" 
 
 " None of these catastrophes has overtaken me ; but I come, 
 as usual, to ask a favor. If you please, I want you to go up to 
 the Factory-row this evening. Mrs. Davis, Xo. 13, has two 
 children very sick, I am afraid. I don't like the appearance of 
 their tongues." 
 
 *' Humph I what do you know about tongues, I should like to 
 be informed ?" 
 
 " How to use my own, sir, at least, when there is a necessity 
 for it. They are what you medical savans call typhoid tongues ; 
 and from what I heard to-dav, I am afraid there will be a dis- 
 tressiog amount of sickness among the operatives. Of course 
 you will go, sir ?" 
 
 " How do you know that so well ? Perhaps I will, and per- 
 haps I won't. Nobody ever looks after me, or cares about the 
 condition of my health ; I don't see why I must adopt the whole 
 human race. See here, my child I do not let me hear of you at 
 the Row again soon, it is no place for you, my lily. Ten to one 
 it is some low, miserable typhus fever showing itself, and I will 
 take care of your precious pets only on condition that you keep 
 away, so that I shall not be haunted with the dread of having 
 you, also, on my hands. If I lay eyes on you at the row, I 
 swear I will write to Leonard to chain you up at home. Do 
 you hear ?" 
 
 *' I shall come every day, I promise you that." 
 
 " Oh ! you are ambitious of martyrdom ? But typhus fever 
 is not the style. Queen. There is neither eclat nor glory in such 
 a death." 
 
 A sad smile curved her mouth, as she answered, slowly : 
 
 " Indeed you wrong me, Doctor. I am not ready to die ; I 
 am lot fit for eternity ; my work has but begun." 
 
 " Why do you think so, my dear child ? What sin have you 
 ever committed ?" 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIPICE. 293 
 
 " Sins of omission, sir, foot up as heavily as those of com- 
 luission." 
 
 " Don't tread upon my Antinomianistic toes, if you please ! 
 they are tender. Wherein have you failed to do your duty ?" 
 
 *' God, and my own soul, only sit in assize upon my dere- 
 lictions." 
 
 " Irene, I have watched you for years with hungry, eager 
 eyes ; and of late I have followed you in your rounds among 
 the poor. You are inaugurating a new system ; the fashion is, 
 to organize societies, flame in print, as officer, president, trea- 
 surer, as the case may be, and placard the members and pur- 
 poses of the organization. Left hand industriously puffs what 
 right hand doeth. Is it not so ? One of your own sex, the 
 greatest, strongest, noblest of your learned women singers, pithily 
 tells you : 
 
 *' * There 's too much abstract willing purposing, 
 In this poor world. We talk by aggregates, 
 
 And think by systems If we pray at all, 
 
 We pray no longer for our daily bread, 
 
 But next centenary's harvests. If we give, 
 
 Our cup of water is not tendered till 
 
 W^e lay down pipes and found a company 
 
 With branches. A woman can not do the thing she ought, 
 
 TMiich means whatever perfect thing she can, 
 
 In life, in art, in science, but she fears 
 
 To let the perfect action take her part 
 
 And rest there ; she must prove what she can do 
 
 Before she does it — prate of woman's rights. 
 
 Of woman's mission, woman's function, till 
 
 The men (who are prating too, on their side) cry— 
 
 A woman's function plainly is — to talk. 
 
 Poor souls, they are very reasonably vexed ! 
 
 They can not hear each other speak.' 
 
 " I tell you. Queen, I have watched these associations all my 
 life ; I am getting old now, and I am as completely nauseated 
 with their cant and phariseeism as Macauley was with that of 
 the seventeenth century Puritans. Self-glorification has a deal 
 of influence over our modern Dorcases." 
 
 *' I think, sir, that you are unjust in sofne instances ; your 
 cynical lenses distort the facts. Judiciously-conducted charita- 
 
294 MACARIA ; OE, 
 
 ble societies greatly facilitate matters, by systematizing the 
 work and induciug punctuality. I grant that the evils you speak 
 of are much to be deprecated ; and, to complete your own 
 lengthy quotation : 
 
 " * I 'd whisper — Soft, my sister ! not a word ! 
 By speaking, we prove only we can speak : 
 "UTiich. he, the man here, never doubted. What 
 He doubts is, whether he can do the thing 
 With decent grace, we v'e not done at all ; 
 Now do it!' 
 
 ** Doctor, I wish you were more of an optimist." 
 
 He took one of her hands, spread out the ivory fingers on his 
 broad palm, and said, in a lower tone : 
 
 " My Chaldean priestess, who says that I am not as orthodox 
 on optimism as Leibnitz himself ? Don't you know that I am a 
 gort of latter-day troglodyte, very rarely airing my pet creeds for 
 the benefit of the pubHc ? That was a wise law of Solon's 
 which declared ' every man infamous who, in seditious or civil 
 dissensions of the state, remained neuter, and refused to side 
 with either party ;' but I do not regard it as expedient, or in- 
 cumbent upon me, to advertise my individual status on all ethi- 
 cal schisms. What is it to the public whether I endorse * Can- 
 dide' or Leibnitz's * Theodicea V " 
 
 " One thiog I certainly do know, with great regret, that your 
 seeming austerity, your roughness of manner, renders you very 
 unpopular ; whereas, you should be universally beloved." 
 
 '' Really I have I become a bugbear in my old age ?" 
 
 " Not that exactly, sir ; but I wish, if it were possible, that 
 you would not mask your really kind, generous, sympathizing 
 heart by such repellent, abrupt conduct in sick-rooms, where peo- 
 ple expect gentleness and consideration on the part of a physician. 
 I know you are often annoyed by senseless and ridiculous ques- 
 tions ; but I wish, for your own sake, that you could be a little 
 more patient with poor, weak human nature." 
 
 " Child, I am not gregarious ; never was. I touch my hat 
 to the world, and it is welcome to think just what it chooses 
 of me." 
 
ALTAKS OF SACRIFICE. 295 
 
 " No, sir ; far from toiicliing your hat, you stand aloof, scowl- 
 ing at your race, smiling grimly at the struggling, drowning men 
 and women around you, as if we were not all one great 
 family, designed by God to assist and cheer each other. Every 
 man — " 
 
 " Pardon me, Queen ; but I am not one of those deluded, sdf- 
 complaccnt human beings who actually lay the ' flattering unc- 
 tion' to their souls that they were sent into this world for some 
 particular purpose — some special mission. I want you to dis- 
 tinctly understand, child, that I don't consider myself appoint- 
 ed to any work but that of attending to my own affairs and tak- 
 ing care of myself." 
 
 " Then you admit yourself a marred, imperfect block, rejected 
 by the Divine Architect as unworthy of a place in the grand 
 social temple. God clothed you with human affections and sym- 
 pathies that, in accordance with the fundamental law of social 
 existence, you might extend a helping hand to your fellow- 
 creatures." 
 
 He moved restlessly, and his gray, shaggy brows met in a 
 heavy frown. 
 
 " I believe, Irene, I am entirely innocent of any agrarian or 
 socialistic tendency." 
 
 " And so, I tiTist, am I. But, sir, because I abhor Brook- 
 Farm, I will not take refuge in the cave of Trophonius." 
 
 He looked up at her with one of his steely, probing glances, 
 then the brows unbent, and he drew her hand caressingly across 
 his cheek. 
 
 " Well, child, we won't quarrel over my bearishness. If you 
 will keep that hard, frozen look away from your lips, and smile 
 now and then as you used to do in your childhood when I held 
 you on my knee, I will promise to try and unearth myself, to seal 
 up my gnome habitation, and buy me a tub which I can drag 
 after me into the sunlight. Is it a bargain ?" 
 
 " That is problematical. Doctor. But it is getting late, 
 and I wish, if you please, you would go at once to the Row." 
 
 " Stop I if any good is accomplished among those semi-savages 
 up yonder, who is to have the credit ? Tell me that." 
 
296 macaria; or, 
 
 " God shall have the thanks ; you all the credit as the worthy 
 instrument, and I as much of the gratification as I can steal 
 from you. Are you satisfied with your wages, my honored Shy- 
 lock ? Good-night." 
 
 " Humph ! it is strange what a hold that queer, motherless 
 thild took upon my heart in her babyhood, and tightens as 
 giie grows older. 
 
 * That souls are dangerous things to carry straight 
 Through all the spilt saltpetre of the world,* 
 
 who will question ? Not I, surely ; and yet I know that girl 
 will take hers safely to the terminus of time, pure, with no smut 
 or smell of gunpowder. A pearl before swine I But I swear, 
 untrampled to the end." 
 
 He shook the ashes from his pipe, put it away behind the 
 clock, and went down to his buggy. Before breakfast the fol- 
 lowing morning, while Irene was in the poultry-yard feeding her 
 chickens and pigeons, pheasants and peafowls, she received a note 
 from Dr. Arnold containing these few scrawling words : 
 
 " If you do not feel quite ready for the day of judgment, avoid 
 the Bow as you would the plagues of Egypt. I found no less 
 than six developed cases of rank typhus. 
 
 " Yours, 
 
 " Hiram Arnold." 
 
 She put the note in her pocket, and, while the pigeons flut- 
 tered and perched on her shoulders and arms, cooing and pecking 
 at her fingers, she stood musing — calculating the chances of con- 
 tagion and death if she persisted. Raising her eyes to the calm 
 blue sky, the perplexed look passed from her countenance, and, 
 fully decided regarding her course, she went in to breakfast. 
 Mr. Huntingdon was going to a neighboring county with Judge 
 Peterson, to transact some business connected with Hugh's 
 estate, and, as the buggy came to the door, he asked, care- 
 lessly — 
 
 " What did Cyrus want ?" 
 
 " He came to bring me a note from the doctor, concerning 
 some sick people whom I asked him to see." 
 
ALTAES OF SACRIFICR. 297 
 
 " Ob—! John, put my over-coat in the buggy. Come, Judge, 
 I am ready." 
 
 As he made no inquiry about the sick, she volunteered no ex- 
 planation, and he bade her good-by with manifest cold indiffer- 
 ence. She could not avoid congratulating herself that, since he 
 must take this journey soon, he had selected the present occasion 
 to be absent, for she was well aware that he would violently op- 
 pose her wishes in the matter of the Row. When Dr. Arnold 
 met her, late in the afternoon of the same day, at little Johnnie's 
 side, his surprise and chagrin found vent, first in a series of oaths, 
 then, scowling at her like some thunder-cloud with the electrici- 
 ty expended, he said : 
 
 " Do you consider me a stark idiot, or a shallow quack ?" 
 
 " Neither, sir, I assure you." 
 
 " Then, if I know anytliing about my business, I wrote you 
 the truth this morning, and you treat my advice with cool con- 
 tempt. You vex me beyond all endurance ! Do you want to 
 thro\v yourself into the jaws of death ?" 
 
 " Xo, sir ; far from it ; but I had incurred the risk before I 
 was aware that there was any. Beside, I feally do not think I 
 shall take the fever. I believe a good resolution is a powerful 
 preventive, and that, you know, I have." 
 
 " The deuce you have ! you obstinate, ungovernable piece of 
 marble ! Look here, Irene, I shall go straight to your father 
 and let him know the facts. It is my duty, and I mean to do it." 
 
 '* I don't think you will, for he started to B county this 
 
 morning. And now^, Doctor, you may just as well quit scolding 
 me, for I have made up my mind to nurse Johnnie, come what 
 
 " Yes I I will warrant you have ! and you may as well go 
 make up your shroud, too — for you will want it, I am thinking." 
 
 " Well, my life, at least, is my own, even if it should prove 
 the price." 
 
 "Oh I is it, indeed? What has become of that pretty doc- 
 trine you preached to me yesterday ? I thought you belonged 
 to the whole human fraternity ? Your life yours, indeed 1" 
 
 13* 
 
298 MACARIA ; OR, 
 
 " You forget, Doctor ; ' greater love hath no man than this, 
 that he lay down his Hfe for his friends.' " 
 
 She shpped her hand into his, and looked up, smihng and calm, 
 into his harsh, swarthy face. 
 
 " My child, you made a mistake ; your life belongs to me, for 
 I saved it in your infancy. I cradled you in my arms, lest death 
 should snatch you, I have a better right to you than anybody 
 else in this world. I don't want to see you die ; I wish to go 
 first." 
 
 '' I know what I owe you. Doctor ; but I am not going to 
 die, and you have scolded me enough for one time. Do make 
 peace." 
 
 " Remember, I warned you, and you would not heed." 
 
 From that hour she kept faithful vigil in No. 3 — passing con- 
 tinually from one bedside to another. Susan's attack proved 
 comparatively light, and she was soon pronounced convalescent ; 
 but little Johnnie was desperately ill, and for several nights 
 Irene sat at his pillow, fearing that every hour would be his last. 
 While his delirium was at its height, Hester was taken violently, 
 and on the morning when Irene felt that her labor was not in 
 vain and that the boy would get well, his little sister, whom she 
 had nm'sed quite as assiduously, grew rapidly worse, and died at 
 noon. As is frequently observed in such diseases, this increased 
 in virulence with every new case. It spread with astonishing ce- 
 lerity through the Row, baffling the efforts of the best physi- 
 cians in W ; and finally, the day after Hester's death, as 
 
 Irene sat trying to comfort the poor mother, a neighbor came in, 
 exclaiming : 
 
 " Oh, Miss Irene ! Philip Martin is down too. He caught 
 the fever from his mother, and his father says won't you please 
 come over ?" 
 
 She went promptly, though so wearied she could scarcely 
 stand, and took a seat by the bed where tossed the poor boy in 
 whom she had taken such an interest since the accident which 
 crushed his leg in the machinery, and rendered him a temporary 
 cripple. 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 
 
 299 
 
 " He lias been talking about yon constantly, Miss Irene, and 
 calling for you. Philip, my son, here is Miss Irene." 
 
 He smiled and turned, but there was no recognition in the hot 
 eyes, and after an instant he muttered on incoherently. 
 
 *' You must go home, Miss Huntingdon ; you are worn out. 
 His father can watch him till his mother gets stronger," said Dr. 
 Brandon, who was fully acquainted with her unremitting attend- 
 ance at the next house. 
 
 " No, I must stay with Philip ; perhaps he will Know me when 
 
 he wakes," 
 
 A hope doomed to disappointment, for he raved for four days 
 and nights, calling frantically for the serene, sad woman who 
 sat at his pillow, bending over him and laying her cold hand on 
 his scorched brow. On the fifth day, being free from fever and 
 utterly prostrated, he seemed sinking rapidly ; but she kept her 
 fingers on his pulse, and, without waiting for the doctor's advice, 
 administered powerful stimulants. So passed two hours of pamful 
 anxiety ; then Phihp opened his eyes languidly, and looked at 
 her. 
 
 " Philip, do you know me ?" 
 
 " Yes — Miss Irene." 
 
 She sank back as if some strong supporting hand had sudden- 
 ly been withdrawn from her ; and, observing that she looked 
 ghastly, Mr. Martin hastily brought her a glass of water. Just 
 then Dr. Brandon entered, and examined his patient with evident 
 
 surprise. 
 
 " What have you done to him, Miss Huntingdon ?" 
 
 " Since daylight I have been giving him ammonia and brandy ; 
 
 his pulse was so feeble and thready I thought he needed it, and 
 
 was afraid to wait for you." 
 
 " Right ! and you saved his life by it. I could not get here 
 
 any earlier, and if you had delayed it until I came it would 
 
 probably have been too late. You may call hun your patient after 
 
 this." 
 
 She waited no longer, but staggered to the door ; and Andrew, 
 seeing how faint she was, came to meet her, and led her to the 
 carriage. The ten days of watching had told upon ]^i ; and 
 
300 MACARIA ; OR, 
 
 when she reached home, and Nellie brought her wrapper and 
 unlaced her shoes, she fell back on her lounge in a heavy, death- 
 like sleep. Mr. Huntingdon had been expected two days before, 
 but failed to arrive at the time designated ; and having her fears 
 fully aroused, Nellie dispatched a messenger for Dr. Arnold. 
 
 CHAPTER XXY. 
 
 " Do YOU see any change, Hiram ?" 
 
 " None for the better." 
 
 Mr. Huntingdon dropped his head upon his hand again, and 
 Dr. Arnold resumed his slow walk up and down the carpet. 
 The blue damask curtains had been looped back from the western 
 window, and the broad band of yellow belting in the sky threw 
 a mellow light over the bed where lay the unconscious heiress 
 of the grand old Hill. Fever rouged the polished cheeks usually 
 pure as alabaster, and touched the parted lips with deeper scarlet, 
 lending a brilliant and almost unearthly beauty to the sculptured 
 features. Her hair, partially escaping from confinement, straggled 
 in crumpled rings and folds across the pillow, a mass of golden 
 netting ; and the sparkling eyes wandered from one object to 
 another as if in anxious search. The disease had assumed a dif- 
 ferent type, and instead of raving paroxysms, her illness was 
 characterized by a silent, wakeful unconsciousness, while opiates 
 produced only the effect of increasing her restlessness. A week 
 had passed thus — during which time she had recognized no one, 
 and though numerous lady friends came to offer assistance, all 
 were refused permission to see her. Mr. Huntingdon was utterly 
 ignorant of the duties of a nurse ; and though he haunted the 
 room like an unlifting shadow, Dr. Arnold and Nellie took entire 
 charge of the patient. The former was unremitting in his care, 
 sitting beside the pillow through the long winter nights, and 
 snatching a few hours sleep during the day. Watching her now. 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 301 
 
 as he walked to and fro, lie noticed that her eyes followed him 
 earnestly, and he paused at the bedside and leaned over her. 
 
 " Irene, what dp you want ? Does my walking annoy you ?" 
 
 No answer. 
 
 " "Won't you shut your eyes, my darling, and try to sleep ?" 
 
 The deep, brilliant eyes only looked into his with mocking 
 inteutness. He put his fingers on the lids and pressed them 
 gently down, but she struggled, and turned away her face. Her 
 hands crept constantly along the snowy quilt as if seeking for 
 something, and taking them both he folded them in his and 
 pressed them to his lips, while tears, which he did not attempt 
 to restrain, fell over them. 
 
 " You don't think she is any worse do you ?" asked the father, 
 huskily. 
 
 " I don't know anything, except that she can't lay this way 
 much longer." 
 
 His harsh voice faltered and his stern mouth trembled. He 
 laid the hands back, went to the window and stood there till the 
 room grew dusky and the lamp was brought in. As Nellie 
 closed the door after her, the doctor came to the hearth, and 
 said, sharply : 
 
 " I would not be in your place for John^ Jacob Astor's 
 fortune." 
 
 " What do you mean by that ?" 
 
 " I mean that, if you have any conscience left, you must suflfer 
 the pains of purgatory for the manner in which you have 
 persecuted that child." 
 
 ** In all that I have ever done I have looked only to her good, 
 to her ultimate happiness. I know that she — ." 
 
 " Hush, Leonard I hush I You know very well that you have 
 been down on your knees before the Golden Calf ever since that 
 girl opened her eyes in this plagued world of trouble 1 You are 
 no more fit to be a father than I am to be a saint ! You have 
 tyrannized and fretted her poor innocent soul nearly out of her 
 ever since she was big enough to crawl. Why the d — 1 could 
 not you let the child have a little peace ? I told you how it 
 would end ; but oh, no 1 you could see nothing but the gilt face 
 
302 macaeia; or, 
 
 of your bellowing god ! You tormented her so about Hugh, 
 that anybody else would have hated the poor fellow. Mind you 
 she never opened her lips to me with reference to that matter in 
 her life ; she would have been gibbeted first. But I am not 
 blind entirely ; I knew what was going on ; I knew that the 
 proud, sensitive bird was hunted, and could find no spot to rest 
 upon. There are ninety-nine chances to one that she has come 
 to her rest at last. You will feel pleasantly when you see her 
 in her shroud." 
 
 His hard face worked painfully, and tears glided down the 
 wrinkled cheek and hid themselves in his gray beard. Mr. 
 Huntingdon was much agitated, but an angry flush crossed his 
 brow as he answered, hastily : 
 
 " I am the best judge of my family matters. You are unjust 
 and severe. Of course, I love my child better than anybody 
 else." 
 
 *' Heaven preserve her from such love as you have lavished on 
 her I She is very dear to me. I understand her character ; 
 you either can not or will not. She is the only thing in this 
 world that I do really love. I have fondled her from the time 
 when she was a week old, and it hurts me to see her suffer as 
 she has done ever since you posted her off among strangers in 
 New York. It will go hard with me to lay her down, in all her 
 loveliness, in the grave. My pet, my violet-eyed darling !" 
 
 He shaded his face and swallowed a sob, and for some mo- 
 ments neither spoke. After a while the doctor buttoned up his 
 coat and took his hat. 
 
 "I am going down to my office to get a different prescription. 
 I will be buck soon." 
 
 " Mrs. Harris and Mrs. Clark said that they would sit up to- 
 night. Hiram, you must be worn out, losing so much sleep." 
 
 " Tell Mrs. Harris and Mrs. Clark to go to Egypt ! Do you 
 suppose I want two such gossip-hawks perched over my dove ? 
 I am going to sit up myself. Give Irene a spoonful of that mix- 
 ture in the small vial at seven o'clock." 
 
 Contrary to his phlegmatic habit, the doctor had taken coun- 
 sel of his fears until he was completely unnerved, and he went 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 303 
 
 home more than usually surly and snappish. As he entered 
 his office, Russell advanced to meet him from the window, 
 whence, for nearly an hour, he had been watching for his arrival. 
 
 " Good-evening, doctor." 
 
 " What do you want ?" 
 
 " How is Miss Huntingdon ?" 
 
 " What is Miss Huntingdon to you ?" 
 
 " She was one of my mother's best friends, though only a lit- 
 tle girl at the time." 
 
 " And you love her for your mother's sake, I suppose ? Truly 
 fiUal." 
 
 " For that matter, she is beautiful enough to be very easily 
 loved for her own sake, judging from the number of her devoted 
 admirers. But I certainly am very grateful for her kindness to 
 my mother, years ago." 
 
 " And well you may be, Aubrey I She paid dearly for her 
 friendly interest in your family." 
 
 " In what respect, sir ?" 
 
 " In more respects than I choose to recapitulate. Did you 
 ever know where she got the two hundred dollars which she gave 
 your mother ?" 
 
 " I presume she took it from her own purse." 
 
 " She borrowed it from me, and paid me back gradually in the 
 money that her father gave her, from time to time, while she 
 was at boarding-school. Cyrus 1 you stupid I bring me some 
 coffee." 
 
 "How is she to-night? Rumors are so unreliable, that I 
 came to you to find out the truth." 
 
 " She is going to die, I am afraid." 
 
 A sudden pallor overspread Russell's face, but he sat erect and 
 motionless, and, fastening his keen eyes upon him, the doctor 
 added : 
 
 " She is about to be transplanted to a better world, if there 
 is such a place. She is too good and pure for this cursed, pes- 
 tiferous earth." 
 
 *' Is the case so utterly hopeless ? I can not, I will not, be- 
 lieve it I" came indistinctly from the young man's bloodless lips. 
 
304 macaria; or, 
 
 " I tell you I know better ! She stands on a hair stretched 
 across her grave. If I don't succeed to-night in making her 
 sleep (which I have been trying to accomplish for two days), she 
 can't possibly live. And what is that whole confounded crew of 
 factory savages in comparison with her precious life ?" 
 
 "Is it true that her illness is attributable to nursino- those 
 people ?" 
 
 " Yes. D — 1 take the Row I I wish the river would swal- 
 low it up." 
 
 " Is she conscious ?" 
 
 '' Heaven only knows ; I don't. She lies with her eyes wide 
 open, looking at everything as if she were searching for something 
 which she had lost, but never speaks, and understands nothing, 
 except to swallow the medicine when I put the spoon to her 
 lips." 
 
 " If I could only see her !" exclaimed Russell, and an expres- 
 sion of such intense agony settled on his features, usually so in- 
 flexible, that his companion was startled and astonished. The 
 doctor regarded him a moment with perplexity and compassion 
 mingled in his own face ; then light broke upon him, and, rising, 
 he laid his hand heavily on Russell's shoulder. 
 
 " Of course, Aubrey, you don't visit at that house ?" 
 
 " Of course not." 
 
 " Do you meet her often ?" 
 
 " I have not seen her for nearly a year. Not since the night 
 in which Hugh Seymour was drowned." 
 
 He rose, and turned away to screen his countenance from the 
 scrutiny to which it was subjected, for the painful shock baffled 
 all his efforts at self-control, and he felt that his face would be- 
 tray him. 
 
 " Where are you going, Aubrey ?" 
 
 " Back to my office." 
 
 " Is there any message which you would like for me to deliver 
 to her, if she should recover consciousness ? You may trust me, 
 young man." 
 
 " Thank you ; I have no message to send. I merely called to 
 ask after her. I trust she will yet recover. Good-night." 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 305 
 
 He walked on rapidly till be reached the door of his office. 
 The gas was burning brightly over his desk, and red-tape and 
 legal-cap beckoned him in ; but fathomless, blue eyes, calm as 
 mid-ocean, looked up at him, and, without entering, he turned, 
 and went through the cold and darkness to the cemetery, to his 
 mother's tomb. She had been his comfort in boyish sorrows, and 
 habit was strong ; he went to her grave for it still. 
 
 When Russell left him, Dr. Arnold took from his pocket the 
 only solace he had over known — his meerschaum. While he 
 smoked, and mixed some powders in a marble mortar, memory 
 industriously ran back, raking amid the ashes of the by-gone for 
 here a word and there a look, to eke out the Ariadne thread 
 which his imagination was spinning. The possibility of an at- 
 tachment between Irene and the blind widow's son had never oc- 
 curred to him before ; but that Russell's unmistakable emotion 
 could be referable simply to gratitude to his mother's benefac- 
 tress, was an explanation of which he was disposed to be very 
 sceptical. If this surmise should prove correct, what were Irene's 
 feelings toward the popular young politician ? Here he was ab- 
 solutely without data ; he could recall nothing to assist him ; 
 but, compr-^hending the bitter animosity existing between the 
 lawyer and her father, he sighed involuntarily, knowing the hope- 
 lessness of any such attachment on either or both sides. Deter- 
 mined to satisfy himself of the truth at the earliest opportunity, 
 he carefully weighed out the powder and rode back to the Hill. 
 He could perceive no change, unless it were a heightening of the 
 carmine on cheeks and lips, and an increased twitching of the fin- 
 gers, which hunted so pertinaciously about the bed-clothes. 
 
 " That everlasting picking, picking at everything, is such an 
 awful bad sign," said poor Nellie, who was crying bitterly at the 
 foot of the bed, and she covered her face with her apron to shut 
 out the sight. 
 
 " You 'pick' yourself off to bed, Xellie ! I don't want you 
 snubbing and groaning around, day and night." 
 
 " I am afraid to leave her a minute. I am afraid when my 
 poor baby shuts her eyes she will never open ^em again till she 
 opens 'em in heaven." 
 
306 macaeia; oe, 
 
 " Oh, go along to sleep I you eternal old stupid. I will wake 
 you up, I tell 'you, if she gets worse." 
 
 He mLxed one of the powders and stooped down. 
 
 " Irene — Irene, take this for nue, won't you, dear ?" 
 
 She gave no intimation of having heard him till he placed the 
 wineglass to her mouth and raised her head tenderly ; then she 
 swallowed the contents mechanically. At the expiration of an 
 hour, he repeated the dose, and at ten o'clock, while he sat 
 watching her intently, he saw the eyelids begin to droop, the 
 long, silky lashes quivered and touched her cheeks. When he 
 listened to her breathing, and knew that at last she slept, his 
 gray head sank on his chest, and he murmured, inaudibly, 
 *' thank God !" Patient as a woman, he kept his place at her 
 side, fearing to move lest he should wake her ; the dreary hours 
 of night wore away ; morning came, gloriously bright, and still 
 she slept. The flush had faded, leaving her wan as death, and 
 the little hands were now at rest. She looked like the figures 
 which all have seen on cenotaphs, and anxiously and often the 
 doctor felt the slow pulse, that seemed weary of its mission. He 
 kept the room quiet and maintained his faithful watch, refusing 
 to leave her for a moment. Twelve o'clock rolled round, and it 
 appeared, indeed, as if Nellie's prognostication would prove true, 
 the sleeper was so motionless. At three o'clock the doctor 
 counted the pulse, and, reassured, threw his head back against 
 the velvet lining of the chair, and shut his aching eyes. Before 
 five minutes had elapsed, he heard a faint, sweet voice say, " Pa- 
 ragon." Springing to his feet, he saw her put out her hand to 
 pat the head of her favorite, who could not be kept out of the 
 room, and howled so intolerably when they chained him that they 
 w^ere forced to set him free. Now he stood with his paws on the 
 pillow and his face close to hers, whining with delight. Tears of 
 joy almost blinded the doctor as he pushed Paragon aside, and 
 said, eagerly : 
 
 " Irene, one dog is as good as another ! You know Paragon; 
 do you know me. Queen ?" 
 
 ** Certainly — I know you, Doctor.'^ 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 307 
 
 " Ood bless yon, beauty I You have n't known me for a 
 week." 
 
 " I am so thirsty — please give me some water." 
 
 He lifted her head and she drank eagerly, till he checked 
 her. 
 
 " There — we have n't all turned hydropathists since you were 
 taken sick. Nellie I I say, Nellie 1 you witch of Endor I bring 
 some wine-whey here. Irene, how do you feel, child ?" 
 
 " Very tired and feeble, sir. My head is confused. Where 
 is father ?" 
 
 " Here I am, my daughter." 
 
 He bent down with trembling lips and kissed her, for the first 
 time since the day of their estrangement, nearly three years be- 
 fore. She put her arras feebly around his neck, and as he held 
 her to his heart, she felt a tear drop on her forehead. 
 
 " Father, have you forgiven me ?" 
 
 He either could not or would not answer, but kissed her again 
 warmly ; and, as he disengaged her arms and left the room, she 
 felt assured that, at last, she had been forgiven. She took the 
 whey silently, and, after some moments, said : 
 
 " Doctor, have you been sitting by me a long time ?" 
 
 " I rather think I have I — losing my sleep for nearly ten 
 days, you unconscionable young heathen." 
 
 " Have I been so ill as to require that ? I have a dim recol- 
 lection of goiug on a long journey, and of your being by my side 
 all the way." 
 
 " "Well, I hope you traveled to your entire satisfaction, and 
 found what you wanted — for you were feeling about, as if hunt- 
 ing for something, the whole time. Oh ! I am so thankful that 
 you know me once more. Child, you have cost me a deal of 
 sorrow. Now be quiet, and go to sleep again ; at least don't 
 talk to Nellie or Paragon. I shall take a nap on the sofa in the 
 library." 
 
 She regained her strength very slowly, and many days elapsed 
 before she was able to leave her room. One bright sunny morning 
 she sat before the open window, looking down on the lawn 
 where the pigeons flashed in and out of the hedges, and now and 
 
308 MACAEIA ; OE, 
 
 then glancing at the bouquet of choice hot-house flowers in the 
 vase beside her. In her lap lay a letter just received from Har- 
 vey Young — a letter full of fond remembrance, grave counsel, 
 and gentle encouragement — and the unbent lines about her 
 mouth showed that her mind was troubled. 
 The doctor came in and drew up a chair. 
 " I should like to know who gave you leave to ride yester- 
 day ?" 
 
 " Father thought that I was well enough, and the carriage 
 was close and warm. I hope, sir, that I shall not be on your 
 hands much longer. ' 
 
 " What did I tell you ? Next tune don't be so hard-headed, 
 when you are advised by older and wiser persons. I trust you 
 are quite satisfied with the result of your elemosynary perform- 
 ances at the Row." 
 
 " Far from it. Doctor. I am fully acclimated now, and have 
 nothing to fear in future. I am very sorry, sir, that I caused 
 you all so much trouble and anxiety ; I did not beHeve that I 
 should take the fever. If Philip had not been so ill I should 
 have come out safely ; but I suppose, my uneasiness about him 
 unnerved me in some way — for, when I saw that he would get 
 well, all my strength left me in an instant. How is he, sir ?" 
 
 " Oh ! the young dog is as well as ever ; limps around now 
 without his crutches. Comes to my office every day to ask after 
 his blessed Lady Bountiful." 
 
 Leaning forward carelessly, but so as to command a full view 
 of her face, he added : 
 
 " You stirred up quite an excitement in town, and introduced 
 me generally to society. People, who never inflicted themselves 
 on me before, thought it was incumbent on them to hang 
 around my door to make enquiries, concerning my fair patient. 
 One night I found even that statue of bronze and steel, Russell 
 Aubrey, waiting at my office to find out whether you really in. 
 tended translation." 
 
 A change certainly passed swiftly over her countenance ; but 
 it was inexplicable, indescribable ; an anomalous lightening of 
 the eye and darkening of the brow. Before he could analyse it 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 309 
 
 her features resumed their wonted serenity, and he found her voice 
 unfluttered. 
 
 " I was not aware that I had so many friends ; it is a pleasant 
 discovery, and ahnost compensates for the pain of illness. Take 
 care, Doctor I You are tilting my flowers of their vase." 
 
 " Confound the flowers, Queen I They are always in the way. 
 It is a great pity there is such Theban-brother affection between 
 your father and Aubrey. He has any amount of fine feeling 
 hid away under that dark, Jesuitical, non-committal face of his. 
 He has not forgotten your interest in his mother, and when I told 
 him that I thought you had determined to take your departure 
 from this world, he seemed really hurt about it. I always liked 
 the boy, but I think he is a heretic in politics." 
 
 Looking steadily at him as he spoke, she smiled coldly, and 
 answered : 
 
 " It is very apparent that the fierceness of party spirit, this 
 bitter political animosity, is driving the ship of state on the rock 
 of ruin. The foamy lips of the breakers are just ahead, but you 
 men will not open your eyes to the danger." 
 
 " Better get some of you wise women to pilot us, I dare say I" 
 sneered her companion, provoked at her unsatisfactory manner 
 and inflexible features. 
 
 ''It is not our calling, Doctor ; but I promise you if the ex- 
 periment were tried, that you would find no Palinorus among us. 
 We have no desire to thrust ourselves into the forum, like Ro- 
 man women ' storming at the Oppian Law and crushing Cato :' 
 still less to imitate Hortensia, and confronting august Triumvirs 
 in the market-place, harangue against the tax, however unjust. 
 Practically, women should have as little to do with politics as 
 men with darning stockings or making puff-paste ; but we should 
 be unworthy of the high social status which your chivalry accords 
 us were we indifferent to the conduct of public affairs. 
 
 * Man for the field, and -woman for the hearth : 
 Man for the sword, and for the needle she : 
 Man with the head, and woman with the heart : 
 Man to command, and woman to obey.' 
 
 Such is the judicious arrangement of nature — a wise and hap- 
 
310 macaria; ob, 
 
 py one indubitably. We bow before it, and have no wish to 
 trench on your prerogatives ; but we do protest against your 
 sleeping on your posts, or lulling yourselves with dreams of sel- 
 fish ambition when Scylla and Charybdis grin destruction on 
 either side." 
 
 " Phew— Queen I who told you all that ? Has Aubrey in- 
 doctrinated you in his ' fire-eating,' schismatic principles ? "What 
 platform do you propose to mount ?" 
 
 " None, sir, but that of the constitution — ^ignoring both Whig 
 and Democratic additions which make it top' heavy. I don't 
 like latter-day political carpentering. I want to see Nestors in 
 the councils of my country, not nerveless imbeciles or worthless, 
 desperate political gamesters." 
 
 " You rabid little Jacobin I Don't you think that Portia- 
 like, you might completely transmogrify yourself, and get into 
 Congress and Cabinet long enough to write ' Mene^ mene^ on 
 their walls ?" 
 
 " They would have no Daniel there, even if I should, which is 
 no business of mine. Doctor, I claim to be no politician ; a 
 thousand years will scarcely produce another De Stael. I am 
 simply a true lover of my country — anxious in view of its stormy, 
 troubled future." 
 
 " Aubrey has not proselyted you, then, after all?" 
 
 She had unlocked her writmg-desk, and, without seeming to 
 hear his last words, handed him a letter. 
 
 " Here is a letter from uncle Eric, which I received yesterday. 
 It contains a message for you about some medical books and 
 journals." 
 
 He muttered somethmg indistinctly, put the letter in his 
 pocket, and took her hand. 
 
 " Irene — what is the matter, dear child ? Your pulse is en- 
 tirely too quick." 
 
 '' That is nothing new. Doctor. Father insists that I shall 
 drink port-wine, and it does not suit me — keeps my head aching 
 continually." 
 
 " Try porter instead." ,., 
 
 She shook her head wearily. 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 311 
 
 " I need nothing, sir, but to be let alone." 
 
 lie smoothed back her hair and said, hastily : 
 
 " You will never get what you need. Oh, child I why won't 
 you trust me ?" 
 
 '' Why— Doctor I I do." 
 
 " Hush I don't tell me that 1 I know better. You steel that 
 white face of yours, and lock your confidence from the old man 
 who loves you above all other things." 
 
 She drew down his hand from her head and leaned her cold 
 cheek upon it. 
 
 " You misunderstand me, sir ; I repose the most perfect con- 
 fidence in you. If I were in trouble, and .wanted help or a favor 
 of any kind, I would apply to you sooner than to any other hu- 
 man being — for you have always been more patient with ray 
 whims than even my own father — and I should be worse than an 
 ingrate if I had not the most complete trust in you. My dear, 
 kind friend, what have I done to fret you ?" 
 
 He did not reply, but searched her countenance sorrowfully. 
 
 " Doctor, tell me one thing. You nursed me constantly while 
 I was unconscious, and I want to know whether I said anything 
 during, my delirium that surprised or annoyed you." 
 
 " No ; the trouble was that you sealed your lips hermetically. 
 Are you afraid now that you divulged some secret which I may 
 betray ?" 
 
 " I am not afraid of your betraying anything — never had such 
 a thought. When do you think that I may take a horse-back 
 ride with impunity ? I am so tired of the house." 
 
 " Xot for a week, at least. You must be prudent, Irene, for 
 you are not strong yet, by a great deal." 
 
 " I wanted to talk to you, this morning, about something very 
 near my heart ; but you are going." 
 
 " I can wait, my child. What is it ?" 
 
 " To-morrow will do as well. I want you to aid me in get- 
 ting a bill passed by the legislature, appropriating a school fund 
 for this county. Perhaps you can obtain Mr. Aubrey's influ- 
 ence with the members of the lower house." 
 
 " Perhaps I'll go to the North Pole to cool a glass of amon- 
 
312 MACAEIA ; OR, 
 
 tillado for your majesty I I'll be hanged if I have anything to 
 do with it ! Why the deuce can't you ask Mr. Aubrey your- 
 self ?" 
 
 " Because, in the first place, you know very well that I never 
 see him, and I could not ask him, even if I should meet him ; 
 and, beside, I do not wish to be known at all in the affair. It 
 is not a woman's business to put forward legislative bills." 
 
 *' Indeed I Then why are you meddhng with other people's 
 business ?'^ 
 
 "Our legislators seem to have forgotten one grand and good 
 maxim of Lycurgus : ' Children are the property of the state, to 
 whom alone their education should be intrusted.' They have 
 forgotten that our poor require educating, and I simply desire 
 some of their constituents to call their attention to the oversight. 
 Doctor, I know you will do it." 
 
 " I will first see myself floundering like Pharaoh ! I'll rake 
 out nobody's chestnuts I Not even yours, child 1 Put down 
 that window ; the air is too chilly. You are as cold as an ice- 
 berg and as blue as a gentian." 
 
 The doctor had scarcely taken his departure when Nellie's tur- 
 baned head showed itself at the door. 
 
 " That factory-boy, Philip, is down stairs ; he brought back a 
 book, and wants to see you. He seems in trouble ; but you 
 don't feel like being bothered to-day, do you ?" 
 
 " Did he ask to see me ?" 
 
 " Not exactly ; but showed very plainly he wanted to see 
 you." 
 
 " Let him come up." 
 
 As he entered, she rose and held out her hand. 
 
 " Good-morning, Philip ; I am glad you are well enough to 
 be out again." 
 
 He looked at her reverently, and, as he noticed the change her 
 illness had wrought, his lips quivered and his eyes filled. 
 
 " Oh, Miss Irene ! I am so glad you are better. I prayed for 
 you all the time while you were so very ill," 
 
 " Thank you. Sit down, and tell me about the sick." 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 313 
 
 " They are all better, I believe, ma'm, except Mrs. Davi?. 
 She was wishing yesterday that she could see you again." 
 
 *' I sliall go there in a day or two. You are walking pretty 
 well without your crutches. Have you resumed your work ?" 
 
 " I shall begin again to-morrow." 
 
 " It need not interfere \f\i\\ your studies. The nights are very 
 Jong now, and you can accomplish a great deal if you feel disposed 
 to do so." 
 
 He did not answer immediately, and, observing the cloud on 
 his countenance, she added : 
 
 " Philip, what is the matter ? You look troubled ; can I do 
 anything for you ?" 
 
 A deep flush mantled his sallow cheek, and, drooping his head 
 as if in humiliation, he said, passionately : 
 
 " Oh, Miss Irene ! You are the only friend I have. I am so 
 mortified I can hardly look anybody in the face. Father is drink- 
 ing again worse than ever, and is so violent that mother won't 
 stay at home ; she has gone across the river for a few days. I 
 have done all I could, but I can't influence him." 
 
 " Where is he now ?" 
 
 " The police put him in the guard-house last night for creating 
 a disturbance. I suppose when the Mayor holds court, he will 
 be fined and turned out. Miss Irene, I feel like jumping into the 
 river and drowning myself. It is so horrible to be ashamed of 
 my own father." 
 
 He dropped his face in his hands, and she saw that he trem- 
 bled violently. 
 
 " You must struggle against such feelings, Philip ; though it 
 is certainly very mortifying to know that your father has been 
 arrested. If you conduct yourself properly, people will respect 
 you all the more because of your misfortune." 
 
 " Xo, Miss Irene ! they are always holding it up to me. Hard 
 as I try to do right, they are continually sneering at me, and 
 sometimes it makes me almost desperate." 
 
 " That is unjust and ungenerous. No one, who has any refine- 
 ment or goodness of heart, will be guilty of such behavior. I do 
 not know positively that I can assist you, but I think it possible 
 
 14 
 
314 MAC ARIA ; OB, 
 
 I can obtain a situation for your father as carpenter on a plan- 
 tation in the country, if he will promise to abstain from drinking. 
 I have heard that he was a very good mechanic, and in the coun- 
 try he would not meet with such constant temptation. Do you 
 suppose that he will be wilUug to leave town ?" 
 
 " Oh, yes, ma'm ! I think so ; he is generally very repentant 
 when he gets sober. If you please, Miss Irene, I shoiild be so 
 glad if you would talk to him, and persuade him to take the 
 pledge before he starts. I believe he would join the Temperance 
 society if you asked him to do it. Oh ! then I should have some 
 heart to work." 
 
 " You and your mother must try to influence him, and in a few 
 days I will talk to him. In the meantime I will see about the 
 situation, which is a very desirable one. I am very sorry, Philip, 
 that this trouble has occurred again ; I know that it is very 
 painful, but you must endeavor to be patient and hopeful, and to 
 bear up bravely. Brighter days will soon come, I trust." 
 
 He took his cap from the carpet, rose, and looked at her with 
 swimming eyes. 
 
 " Oh , Miss Irene I I wish I could tell you all I feel. I thank 
 you more than I can ever express, and so does mother." 
 
 " You have finished your book, I see ; don't you want another ? 
 Nellie will show yoij the library, and on the lower book-shelf, on 
 the right-hand side of the door, you wi\l find a large volume in 
 leather binding — ' Plutarch.' Take it with you, and read it 
 carefully, Good-by. I shall come down to the Row to-morrow 
 or next day." 
 
 As she heard his halting step descend the stairs she leaned 
 back wearily in her chair, and, closing her eyes, these words crept 
 almost audibly over her pale lips : 
 
 *' But go to ! thy love 
 
 Shall chant itself, its own beatitudes, 
 After its own life-working. A child's kiss 
 Set on the sighing lips, shall make thee glad ; 
 A poor man served by thee, shall make thee rich ; 
 A sick man helped by thee, shall make thee strong." 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIUCE. 315 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI.. 
 
 " Well, Irene, what is your decision about the party at Mr^. 
 Churchill's to-night ?" 
 
 " I will go with you, father, if it is a matter of so much interest 
 to you ; though, as I told you yesterday, I should prefer declin- 
 ing the invitation as far as I am concerned." 
 
 " It is full time for you to go into society again. You have 
 moped at home long enough." 
 
 " ' Moped' is scarcely the right word, fathei;." 
 " It matters little what you call it, the fact is the same. You 
 have shut yourself in till you have grown to look like a totally 
 different woman. Indeed, Irene, I won't permit it any longer : 
 you must come out into the world once more. I am sick of your 
 black looks ; let me see you in colors to-night." 
 " Will not pure white content you, father ?" 
 " Xo ; I am tired of it ; wear something bright." 
 Mr. Huntingdon smoked his after- breakfast cigar half-recliued 
 on the upper step, and Irene walked up and down the wide col- 
 onade, enjoying the cool, dewy, fragrant June day, whose suu was 
 rapidly mounting in heaven. The air was of that peculiar still- 
 ness found only in southern summer mornings, but now and then 
 its holy calm was rippled by the contented ri^iging whistle of 
 a partridge far down among the grassy orchard-depths, and by 
 the peaceful chime of doves cooing soft and low, one to another, 
 in the thickest shadows of the dripping grove. True summer 
 sounds — sure concomitants of June. Frail, foam-like cloud-navies 
 in line of-battle, as if piloted by dubious, treacherous winds, sailed 
 lazly across the sea of intense blue, staring down covetously at 
 a ripening field of flashing wheat, which bowed and waved ia 
 a long billowy sweep and swell as the mild June breeze stole 
 over it ; and on a neighboring hill-side, where sickles had been 
 busy a few days before, the royal yellow shocks stood thick and 
 tall m crowded ranks, like golden gods of Plenty. 
 
316 MACAHIA ; OE, 
 
 Ab ! rare June day, impearled and purpled, freshly growing 
 from the throbbing hands of Deity, serenely regal on her south- 
 ern throne as Sheba's brown queen. 
 
 " Irene, sit here on the step, where I can see you without 
 twisting my head off my shoulders. Now, then — what is the 
 matter with you ?" 
 
 " Nothing unusual, father." 
 
 " Don't evade me. Why can't you look and act like other 
 girls of your age ?" 
 
 " Probably because I feel differently. But to what do you 
 allude ? In what respect have I displeased you ?" 
 
 " Oh ! in a thousand. You never would look at things in 
 their proper light. AVhy did you treat William Bainbridge so 
 coldly yesterday evening ? You know very well that he came 
 here expressly to see you." 
 
 " And for that reason, sir, I felt it my duty to receive the visit 
 coolly." 
 
 " You disappointed all my plans for you once ; but let me tell 
 you, if you are not a down-right simpleton, you will accept the 
 offer William Bainbridge came here to make. You are aware 
 of the warm friendship which has always existed between the 
 governor and myself, and his son is considered the finest match 
 in the state. If you live a thousand years you will never have a 
 better offer, or another as good ; and I do hope, my daughter, 
 that you will not be insane enough to reject him." 
 
 " Father^ why are you so anxious to get rid of your only 
 child ?" 
 
 " I am not : but you must marry some time, and I know very 
 well such an opportunity as this will not recur." 
 
 " Don't you think, sir, that you and I could live always hap- 
 pily here without planting a stranger at our fireside ? Father, 
 let us. understand each other fully. I speak deliberately and 
 solemnly — I shall never marry." 
 
 Mr. Huntingdon started up from his indolent posture and sur- 
 veyed his daughter keenly. 
 
 Her spotless muslin morning-dress swept down the marble 
 steps, its wide sleeves falling away from the rounded, dazzling 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 317 
 
 arms, and a black cord and tassel girding the waist. The gera- 
 nium leaves fastened at her throat were unstirred as the silver- 
 dusted lilies sleeping lotos-like, on some lonely tarn ; and the 
 dewy Lamarque roses twined in her coiled hair, glittered and 
 kindled into fiiint opaline flushes as the sunshine quivered into 
 their creamy hearts. One hand held a steel ring, to which half- 
 a-dozen keys were attached — the other toyed unconsciously with 
 the heavy tassel, and the hushed face, with its deep, holy eyes, 
 was lifted to meet her father's. 
 
 " Nonsense, Irene I I have heard fifty women say that same 
 thing, and have danced at their weddings six months later." 
 
 ** I do not doubt it. But, father, no one will ever dance at 
 mine." 
 
 " And, pray, why have n't you as good a right to marry and 
 be happy as other women ?" 
 
 "The abstract right, and the will to use it, are different, 
 fatlier ; and, as regards happiness, I love my own beautiful home 
 too well to desire to change it for any other. Let me be quiet 
 here — I ask no more." 
 
 " But, Irene, I can't be expected to live always, even were my 
 society suflBcient for you, which is not true." 
 
 " Death yields allegiance to no decree of man. I may find 
 Hugh in another world before you are called to quit this." 
 
 Her father shuddered, and smoked silently for several seconds; 
 then the crash of wheels on the shelled avenue startled both. 
 
 " Here comes Bainbridge, now. I promised him that you 
 would play a game of billiards with him this morning. For 
 heaven's sake, Irene ! be reasonable for once in your life ; let me 
 hear no more such stuff as you have been talking, but treat the 
 man civilly, and give him what he will ask." 
 
 The handsome suitor came up the steps rather dubiously, as if 
 fearful of his welcome ; and the heiress rose composedly and re- 
 ceived him with graceful, polished, imperturbable reserve. A 
 few months before, in compliance with her father's earnest re- 
 quest, she had accompanied him to the capital of the state, and 
 during this brief visit met and completely fascinated Mr. Bain- 
 bi idge, whose attentions were susceptible of but one interpreta- 
 
318 MACAKIA ; OR, 
 
 tion. He was a year her senior — a chivalric, agreeable, gay 
 young man, who had grown up without selecting a profession, 
 knowing that his ample fortune would more than suffice for his 
 maintenance. He was the only son of the governor ; his charac- 
 ter was unimpeachable, his nature magnanimous, and many of 
 his impulses were truly noble — but his intellect was far inferior 
 to hers. He could no more comprehend her than some long-in- 
 urned Assyrian scroll, for which the cipher-key is wanting ; and 
 in the midst of his devotion she was conscious of no feeling save 
 that of utter indifference, son;etimes waxing into impatience at 
 his frequent visits. She had studiously avoided encouraging his 
 attentions, but he either could not or would not interpret her cold 
 reticence. 
 
 The morning was spent over the billiard-table, and at last, 
 foiled by her skilful guiding of the fragmentary conversation, 
 Mr. Bainbri(fge having been refused the honor of escorting her 
 to the party, took his leave, expressing the hope that in a few 
 hours he should see her asrain. 
 
 " Well ?" said Mr. Huntingdon, seating himself at the lunch- 
 eon-table. 
 
 " Well, father ; we played till I was heartily tired." 
 
 " But the result of the visit, Irene ?" 
 
 " The result was that I beat him three games out of five. 
 John, where is the claret ? You have forgotten it ; here are the 
 keys." 
 
 " Pshaw I I mean, did Bainbridge come to the point ?" 
 " I took most of the points from him." 
 " Confound your quibbling ! Did you accept him ?" 
 " I am happy to be able to tell you, sir, that he did not aflford 
 me an opportunity-." 
 
 " Then I will be sworn it was your fault, not his." 
 A short silence ensued : Irene sat, seemingly abstracted, dip- 
 ping her slender hand in a ruby-colored Bohemian fino-e^'-bowl. 
 Presently John returned ; she took the bottle from him, and, 
 filling her father's glass, said, earnestly : 
 
 " Father, I have a favor to ask at your hands ; are you in a 
 mood for concessions ?" 
 
ALTARS OF SACRTFICK. 319 
 
 " ' That depends — ,' as Guy Darrell says. What is it ? Do 
 you want a new collar for Paragon, or a bran new pigeon-box 
 twice the size of the old one ? Something unreasonable, I will 
 warrant. You never want what you ought to have. Speak out, 
 my bleached gentile Esther I" 
 
 " I do want another pigeon-box badly, but that is not to be 
 asked for to-day. Father, will you give me that large beautiful 
 vacant lot, with the old willow tree, on the corner of Pine street 
 and Huntingdon avenue, opposite the court-house ?" 
 
 " Upon my word 1 I must say you are very modest in your 
 request ! What the deuce do you want with it ?" 
 
 " I know that I am asking a good deal, sir ; but I want it as 
 a site for an orphan asylum. Will you give it to me ?" 
 
 " No ! I'll be hanged if I do I Are you going entirely de- 
 ranged ! What business have you with asylums, I should like 
 to know ? Put all of that ridiculous stuflf out of your head. 
 Here is something for which I sent to Europe. Eric selected it 
 in Paris, and it arrived yesterday. Wear it to-night." 
 
 He drew a velvet case from his pocket 'and laid it before her. 
 Touching the spring, the lid flew open, and on the blue satin 
 lining lay the blazing coils of a magnificent diamond necklace 
 and bracelets. 
 
 " How beautiful I how splendidly beautiful !" 
 
 She bent over the flashing mass in silent admiration for 
 some time, examining the delicate setting, then looked up at her 
 father. 
 
 " What did they cost ?" 
 
 " Why do you want to know that ?" 
 
 " I am pardonably curious on the subject." 
 
 " Well, then, I was silly enough to give seven thousand dol- 
 lars for them." 
 
 " And what was the value of that lot I asked for ?" 
 
 " Five thousand dollars." 
 
 " Father, these diamonds are the finest I ever saw. They 
 are superbly beautiful ; a queen might be proud of them, and I 
 thank you most earnestly for such a gorgeous present ; but if you 
 
320 MACARIA ; OR, 
 
 will not be offended, I will be candid with you — I would a thou- 
 sand times rather have the lot than the jewels." 
 
 The expression of blank astonishment with which these words 
 were received would have been ludicrous but for the ominous 
 thickenino: of his brows. 
 
 " Father, do not feel hurt with me, or attribute my conduct 
 io any want of gratitude for your indulgent kindness. If I love 
 t le smiles of happy children more than the radiance of these 
 costly gems, and would rather wear in my heart the contented 
 faces of well-cared-for orphans than on my neck these glittering 
 diamonds, may I not at least utter my preference without offend- 
 ing you ? Wlien I think of the better use to which this money 
 might be applied, the incalculable good it would effect, I shrink 
 from hoarding it up on my person to dazzle the eyes of my associ- 
 ates, to incite some to imitate the lavish expenditure, and to awaken 
 in others envious discontent at their inability to cover themselves 
 with similar splendor. The result of such an example on our socie- 
 ty would be like dropping a pebble into some crystal lakelet sleep- 
 ing in evening sunshine ; the wavering ring would widen till the 
 entire glassy surface was shivered into spinning circles and dash- 
 ed on the rocky shore beyond. Father, forgive me, if I have 
 Baid anything disagreeable to you. I shall be grieved indeed if, 
 on occasion of your too generous indulgence, any dissension arise 
 between us. Tell me that you are not angry with me." 
 
 She laid her fingers on his arm, but he shook off the touch^ 
 and, scowling, sullenly, snatched the velvet case from her hand 
 and stamped out of the room — slamming the door so violently 
 that the glasses on the table rang out a tinkling chime, and the 
 red wine in the bottle danced a saraband. 
 
 He went to town, and she met him no more till she was attired 
 for the party. Standing before the mirror in her own room she 
 arranged the flowers in her hair, and, when the leaves were dis- 
 posed to suit her fastidious taste, she took up a pearl set which 
 he had given her years before, intending to wear it. But just 
 then raising her eyes, she saw her father's image reflected in the 
 glass. Without turning she put up her arms, and laying her 
 head back on his shoulder said, eagerly : 
 
ALTARS OP SACRIFICE. 321 
 
 " My dear, dear father, do^et us be reconciled." 
 
 Clouds and moodiness melted from his handsome features as 
 he bent over lier an instant, kissing her fondly ; then his hands 
 passed swiftly over her neck, an icy shower fell upon it and she 
 was clothed with light. 
 
 " My beautiful child, wear your diamonds as a seal of peace. 
 I can't let you have the Pine street lot — I want it for a different 
 purpose ; but I will give you three acres on the edge of town, 
 near the depot, for your asylum whim. It is a better location 
 every way for your project." 
 
 " Thank you, father. Oh I thank you more than words can 
 express." 
 
 She turned her lips to one of the hands still lingering on her 
 shoulder. 
 
 " Irene, look at yourself. Diana of Ephesus I what a blaze 
 of glory I" 
 
 " Father, it would not require much stretch of imagination to 
 believe that, by some descendental raetemsychosis, I had become 
 an exhumed member of the sacred gnomides, torn ruthlessly from 
 my sisterhood in Cerro do Frio, or the cold, dreary caverns of 
 the Agathyrsi." 
 
 " The metamorphosis is not sufficiently complete without your 
 bracelets. Put them on and come down ; the carriage is ready. 
 Where is your bouquet-holder ? Give it to me ; I will fasteu 
 the flowers in, while you draw on your gloves." 
 
 Two days before the marriage of Charles Harris and Maria 
 Henderson had been celebrated with considerable pomp, and the 
 party to-night was given in honor of the event by Mrs. Churchill, 
 a widowed sister of Judge Harris. She had spent several years 
 in Paris superintending the education of a daughter, whom she 
 had recently brought home to reside near her uncle, and dazzle 
 all W with her accomplishments. 
 
 At ten o'clock there stood beneath the gas-lights in her elegant 
 parlor a human fleshy antithesis, upon which all eyes were rivet- 
 ed — Salome Churchill — a dark imperious beauty, of the Cleopatra 
 type, with very full crimson lips, passionate, or pouting as occa- 
 sion demanded ; brilliant black eyes that, like August days, 
 
322 MACAEIA ; OE, 
 
 burned dewless and unclouded, a steady blaze ; tliick shining 
 black hair elaborately curled, and a rich tropical complexion, 
 clear and glowing as the warm blood that pulsed through her 
 rounded graceful form. She wore a fleecy fabric, fopaz-colored, 
 with black lace trimmings ; yellow roses gemmed her hair, and 
 topaz and ruby ornaments clasped her throat and arms. An 
 Eastern queen she looked, exacting universal homage, and full 
 of fiery jealousy whenever her eyes fell upon one who stood just 
 ppposite. A statuesque face, pure and calm as any ever cut 
 from Pentelic quarry, and cold as its dews — the delicately- 
 carved features borrowing no color from the glare around her, 
 the polished shoulders and perfect arms gleaming frigidly in the 
 rainbow light of her diamonds, and the bronze hair caught up by a 
 pearl comb, with here and there a cluster of clematis bells droop- 
 ing toward her neck. Irene's dress was an airy blue tulle^ flounced 
 to the waist, and without trimming, save the violet and clematis 
 clusters. Never had her rare beauty been more resplendent — 
 more dazzliiigly chilly ; it seemed the glitter of an arctic iceberg 
 lit by some low midnight sun, and turn whither she would fascin- 
 ated groups followed her steps. Salome's reputation as a brilliant 
 helle had become extended since Irene's long seclusion, yet to- 
 night, on the re-appearance of the latter, it was apparent to 
 even the most obtuse that she had resumed her sway — the 
 matchless cynosura of that social system. Fully conscious of the 
 intense admiration she excited, she moved slowly from room to 
 room, smiling once or twice when she met her father's proud 
 look of fond triumph -fixed upon her. 
 
 Leaninc: asrainst the window to rest, while Charles Harris 
 went in search of a glass of water, she heard her name pro- 
 nounced by some one on the gallery. 
 
 •'' They say Irene Huntingdon is positively going to maiTy 
 Bainbridge. Splendid match on both sides. Won't she shine 
 at the Governor's mansion ? I wonder if she really grieved 
 much for Seymour ? How perfectly lovely she is ; and Hunt- 
 ingdon is so proud of her. By the way, Neal, have you heard 
 tiie last gossip V" 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 823 
 
 "About whom ? I Imve been away a month, you must re- 
 member, and am behind the times. Do tell me." 
 
 " Well, the very latest report is that, after all, Aubrey never 
 fancied Grace Harris, as tho quidnuncs asserted — never address- 
 ed her, or anybody else— but is now sure enough about to bear 
 off helle Salome, the new prize, right in the face of twenty rivals. 
 I should really Hke to hear of something which that man could 
 not do, if he set himself to work in earnest. I wonder whether 
 it ever occurs to him that he once stood behind Jacob Watson's 
 counter ?" 
 
 "But Aubrey is not here to-night. Does not affect parties, I 
 beheve ?" 
 
 " Rarely shows himself ; but you mistake ; he came in not 
 twenty minutes ago, and you should have seen what I saw — the 
 rare-ripe red deepen on Salome's cheeks when he spoke to her." 
 
 Irene moved away from the window, and soon after was about 
 to accompany Charlie to the hall, when Mr. Bainbridge came up 
 and claimed her hand for the cotillion forming in the next room. 
 As they took their places on the floor, she saw that Salome and 
 Russell would be vis-Orvis. With an effort she raised her eyes to 
 those of the man whom she had seen last at Hugh's bier ; he 
 drooped his head very slightly, she inclined hers ; then the band 
 smote their instruments, viohu and piano, and the crash of music 
 filled the house. 
 
 Irene moved mechanically through the airy mazes of the dance, 
 giving apparent attention to the low-toned, half-whispered obser- 
 vations of her devoted partner, but straining her ear to catch the 
 mellow voice which uttered such graceful, fascinating nothings to 
 Salome. Several times in the course of the cotillion Russell's 
 hand clasped hers, but even then he avoided looking at her, and 
 seemed engrossed in conversation with his gay partner. Once 
 Irene looked up steadily, and as she noted the expression with 
 which he. regarded his companion she wondered no longer at the 
 rumor she had heard, and acknowledged to herself that they 
 were, indeed, a handsome couple. Dr. Arnold, whom Mrs. Church- 
 ill had coaxed into " showing himself," had curiously watched 
 this meeting, and observing Russell's marked attentions, puzzled 
 
324: MACAEIA ; OR, 
 
 over the question : " Does he really care for that fire- fly, or is 
 he only trying to make Irene jealous ?" He looked long and 
 earnestly at both, then sighed heavily. What did that haughty, 
 blue-robed woman know oF jealousy ? How absurd such a sug- 
 gestion seemed when she turned her smiling, passionless face full 
 upon him. The dance ended ; Irene found herself seated on a 
 sofa at the window of the deserted library, and Russell and Sa- 
 lome walked slowly up and down the veranda in front of it. 
 Mr. Bainbridge had manoeuvred for this opportunity, and, seated 
 beside Irene, he eagerly and eloquently pleaded his cause, assur- 
 ing her of a devotion which should know no diminution, and em- 
 phasizing the fact that he had possessed himself of her father's 
 sanction. 
 
 She made no attempt to interrupt him, but sat erect and mo- 
 tionless, with one hand partially shielding her face, and the other 
 pressed hard against her heart, where a dull continual pain was 
 gnawing. Every few minutes Kussell passed the window, his 
 noble head bent down to the beautiful companion on his arm. 
 Irene could see the outline of his features distinctly, and her soul 
 sickened as she watched him and reasoned concerning the future. 
 He would probably marry somebody, and why not Salome ? She 
 could not expect him to remain single always, and he could never 
 be more than a stranger to her. After his marriage what a 
 blank her life would be ; to love him still would be sinful. She 
 moved her finger slightly and looked fixedly at the handsome man 
 beside her, entreating her to give him the privilege of making 
 her life happy. For an instant she wavered. The world held 
 nothing for her but dreariness at best ; she was weary of aliena- 
 tion and contention ; why not accede to her father's wishes, and 
 t]jQs repair the grievous disappointment of other days ? William 
 Bainbridge loved her, and perhaps if she were his wife the sanc- 
 tity of her vows might strengthen her in tearing another image 
 from her heart. She took her future in the palm of her hand, 
 and pondered. At this moment the couple on the veranda paus- 
 ed in front of the window, to allow the promenading crowd to 
 pass, and Russell looked in, with a»brilliant smile on his counte- 
 nance. It seemed to mock her with a " Marry him if you dare I" 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 325 
 
 The two passed on into the parlors, and closing her eyes a mo- 
 ment, as if shutting out some hideous vision, Irene briefly, but 
 firmly and irrevocably, declined the flattering oITer ; and rising, 
 left him with his disappointment. She looked about for Dr. Ar- 
 nold, but he had disappeared ; her father was deep in a game of 
 euchre ; and as she crossed the hall she was surprised to see 
 Philip leaning against the door-facing, and peering curiously into 
 the parlors. 
 
 " Philip, what are you doing here ?" 
 
 " Oh, Miss Irene 1 I have been hunting for you ever so long. 
 Mrs. Davis is dying, and Susan sent me after you. I went to 
 your house two hours ago, and they said you were here. I ran 
 back and told mother you could not come. But Mrs. Davis 
 worried so, they sent me here. She says she wonH die in peace 
 unless she sees you. She wrung her hands, and asked me if you 
 would not have time enough to go to parties when she was in 
 her grave ? Will you come, ma'm ?" 
 
 " Of course. Philip, find Andrew and the carriage, and I 
 will meet you at the side door in five minutes." 
 
 She went to the dressing-room, asked for pencil and paper, 
 and wrote a few lines, which she directed the servant to hand 
 immediately to her father — found her shawl, and stole down to 
 the side door. She saw the dim outline of a form sitting ou the 
 step, in the shadow of clustering vines, and asked : 
 
 " Is that you, Philip ? I am ready." 
 
 The figure rose, came forward into the light, hat in hand, and 
 both started visibly. 
 
 " Pardon me, Mr. Aubrey. I mistook you in the darkness for 
 another." 
 
 Here Philip ran up the steps. 
 
 " Miss Irene, Andrew says he can't get to the side gate for 
 the carriages. He is at the front entrance." 
 
 " Can I assist you. Miss Huntingdon ?" 
 
 " I thank you ; no." 
 
 " May I ask if you are ill ?" 
 
 " Not in the least — but I am suddenly called away." 
 
 She passed him, and accompanied Philip to the carriage. A 
 
326 macaria; or, 
 
 few minutes rapid driving brought them to- the Row, and, direct- 
 ing Andrew to return and wait for her father, Irene entered the 
 low small chamber where a human soul was pluming itself for its 
 final flight home. The dying woman knew her even then in the 
 fierce throes of dissolution, and the sunken eyes beamed as she 
 bent over the pillow. 
 
 *' God bless you 1 I knew you would come. My children — 
 what will become of them ? Will you take care of them ? Tell 
 me quick." 
 
 " Put your mind at rest, Mrs. Davis. I will see that your 
 children are well cared for in every respect." 
 
 " Promise me I" gasped the poor sufferer, clutching the jewelled 
 arm. 
 
 " I do promise you most solemnly that I will watch over them 
 constantly. They shall never want so long as I live. Will you 
 not believe me, and calm yourself ?" 
 
 A ghastly smile trembled over the distorted features, and she 
 bowed her head in assent. Irene poured some cordial into a 
 glass and put it to her lips, but she refused the draught, and, 
 joining her emaciated hands, muttered, half-inaudibly : 
 
 " Pray for me once more. Oh ! pray for me, my best friend." 
 Kneeling on the bare floor in the midst of a sobbing group, 
 Irene prayed long and earnestly, and gradually, as her sweet 
 voice rolled through the room, a peaceful look settled on the dy- 
 ing mother's face. At last the petition ended and silence reign- 
 ed, broken only by the smothered sobs of Susan and Httle John- 
 nie, who clung to Irene's hand and buried his face in her dress 
 as she still knelt at the bedside. 
 
 " Mrs. Davis, don't you feel that you will soon be at rest with 
 God ?" 
 
 " Yes — I am going home happy — ^happy." 
 She closed her eyes and whispered : 
 " Sing my — hyipn — once — more." 
 
 Making a great effort to crush her own feelings, Irene sang 
 the simple but touching words of "Home Again," and though 
 her voice faltered now and then, she sang it through — knowing, 
 
ALTAKS OF SACRIFICE. 327 
 
 from the expression of the sufferer's face, that the spirit was 
 passing to its endless re st. 
 
 It was a strange scene. The poverty of the room— the ema- 
 ciated form, with sharp, set features— the magnificently beauti- 
 ful womau kneeling there in her costly festal robes, with the 
 light of the tallow candle flickering over her diamonds, setting 
 her neck and arms on fire— and the weeping girl and wailing 
 curly-haired boy, whose tearful face was hidden in the full flounces 
 of blue tulle. '' Passing strange," thought the proud man of 
 the world, who had followed her from the scenes of festivity, and 
 now stood in the door-way listening, with hushed breath, to the 
 prayer she had put up, to. the words of the hymn she had sung 
 so sorrowfully, and gazing in silent adoration upon the face and 
 form of the kneeling woman. Now one of the beautiful arms 
 stole around the trembling child who clung to her so tenaciously, 
 and she gently lifted the chestnut curls from his flushed face. 
 
 " Don't sob so, Johnnie. Your mother is in heaven, where 
 there is no sorrow, or sickness, or trouble. She will be very 
 happy there ; and if you are as good and patient as she was, 
 you will meet her in heaven when God calls you to die." 
 " Oh ! is she dead ? Miss Irene, is my mother dead ?" 
 " My dear little boy, she has gone to our Father in heaven, 
 who will make her happier than she could possibly be in this world." 
 A passionate burst of sorrow followed the discovery of the 
 melancholy truth, and rising from the floor Irene seated herself 
 on a chair, taking the child on her lap, and soothing his violent 
 grief. Too young to realize his loss, he was easily comforted, 
 and after a time grew quiet. She directed Susan to take him 
 into the next room and put him on his pallet ; and when she had 
 exchanged a few words with Philip's mother about the disposi- 
 tion of the rigid sleeper, she turned to quit the apartment, and 
 saw Russell standing on the threshold. Had the dead mother 
 suddenly stepped before her she would scarcely have been more 
 astonished and startled. 
 
 He extended one hand, and hastily taking hers, drew her to 
 the door of the narrow, dark hall, where the newly-risen moon 
 Ehone in. 
 
328 MACARIA ; OR, 
 
 " Come out of this charnel-house into the pure air once more. 
 Do not shrink back — trust yourself with me this once, at least." 
 The brick walls of the factory rose a hundred yards off in full 
 view of the Row, and leading her along the river bank he placed 
 her on one of the massive stone steps of the building. 
 
 " What brought you here to-night, Mr. Aubrey ?" 
 
 " An unpardonable curiosity concerning your sudden depart- 
 ure — an unconquerable desire to speak to you once more. 
 
 " You witnessed a melancholy scene." 
 
 " Yes — melancholy indeed ; but not half so sad as one which 
 memory held before me while I watched yonder pale corpse grow 
 rigid. The veil of .the past was rent^ and I stood again over my 
 own dead mother. For me there is no Lethe. In memoriain 
 creeps in sombre characters over all that I look upon." 
 
 A waning June moon, in its last quarter, struggled feebly up 
 the eastern sky, " hounded by a few dim stars," and the spectral 
 light fell like a dying smile upon the silent scene — the broad 
 swift river flashing below, champing with foamy lips on the rocky 
 bit that barred its current, and breaking into shimmering silver 
 cataracts as it leaped triumphantly over a gray ledge of granite 
 and thundered down into the basin beyond, churning itself into 
 diamond spray, that wreathed and fluttered in gleaming threads 
 like a bridal veil streaming on some mild May breeze. The 
 shining shafts of water gave back the ghastly light as huge 
 mirrors might, and from the dark depths of foliage on the op- 
 posite bank and the lofty aisles of pine-clad hills stretching far 
 w^estward and overtopping all, the deep solemn monotone of the 
 everlasting fall echoed and re-echoed, chanting to the quiet night 
 a sacred " in sodo quies^ 
 
 Standing with uncovered head in the weird light, Kussell's 
 piercing eyes were fixed on his companion. 
 
 " You do not know why I came here, Miss Huntingdon ?" 
 
 " You told me why." 
 
 " Xo. But you shall know. I came here overmastered by 
 some ' Imp of the Perverse,' led by an irresistible desire to see you 
 alone, to look at you, to tell you what I have almost sworn should 
 never pass my lips — what you may consider unmanly weakness — • 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 329 
 
 nay, insanity, on my part. We are face to face at last, man and 
 woman, with the golden bars of conventionality and wordly dis- 
 tinction snapped asunder. I am no longer the man whom society 
 would ftiin flatter, in atonement for past injustice ; and I choose 
 to forget, for the time, that you are the daughter of my bitterest 
 deadlr foe — my persistent persecutor. I remember nothing now 
 but the crowned days of our childhood, the rosy dawn of my 
 manhood, where your golden head shone my Morning Star. I 
 hurl away all barriers, and remember only the one dream of my 
 life — my deathless, unwavering love for you. Oh, Irene ! Irene ! 
 why have you locked that rigid cold face of yours against 
 me ? In the hallowed days of old you nestled your dear hands into 
 mine, and pressed your curls against my cheek, and gave me 
 comfort in your pure, warm, girlish affection ; how canyon snatch 
 your frozen fingers from mine now, as though my touch were con- 
 tamination ? Be yourself once more — give me one drop from the 
 old over-flowing fountain. I am a lonely man ; and my proud 
 bitter heart hungers for one of your gentle words, one of your 
 sweet, priceless smiles. Irene, look at me ! Give it to me ?" 
 
 He sat down on the step at her feet, and raised his dark mag- 
 netic face, glowing with the love which had so long burned un- 
 dimmed, his lofty full forehead wearing a strange flush. 
 
 She dared not meet his eye, and drooped her head on her palms, 
 shrinking from the scorching furnace of trial, whose red jaws 
 yawned to receive her. He waited a moment, and his low mel- 
 low voice rose to a stormy key. 
 
 " Irine, you are kind and merciful to the poor wretches in 
 the Row. Poverty — nay, crime, does not frighten away your 
 compassion for them ? why are you hard and cruelly haughty 
 only to me I" 
 
 " You do not need my sympathy, Mr. Aubrey, and congratu- 
 lations on your great success would not come gracefully from my 
 lips. Most unfortunate obstacles long since rendered all inter, 
 course between us impossible, still my feeling for you has under- 
 gone no change. I am, I assure you, still your friend." 
 
 It cost her a powerful effort to utter these words, and her voice 
 took a metallic tone utterly foreign to it. Her heart writhed 
 
830 MACARIA ; OE, 
 
 bled and moaned in the gripe of her steely purpose, but she en- 
 dured all calmly — relaxing not one jot of her bitter resolution. 
 
 " My friend ? Mockery ! God defend me from such hence- 
 forth. Irene, I looked at you to-night in all your wonderful, in- 
 comparable loveliness, as you hung upon the arm of your acknowl- 
 edged lover, and the possibility of your becoming that man's wife 
 absolutely maddened me. I felt that I could never endure that 
 horrible reality, and resolved to know the truth. Other lips 
 deceive, but yours never can. Tell me, have you promised your 
 hand to Bainbridge ? Will you ever give it to him ? 
 
 " Such questions, Mr. Aubrey, you have no right to propound." 
 " Right I does my worshiping love give me no right to re- 
 lieve myself from torture, if possible ? Oh ! relentless, beautiful 
 idol, that you are ! I have cheated myself with a heavenly dream — 
 have hugged to my soul the hope that, after all, I was more to 
 you than you designed to show — that far down in your proud 
 heart -you, too, cherished memories of other days. Irene, 'you 
 loved me once — nay, don't deny it ! You need not blush for the 
 early folly, which, it seems, you have interred so deeply ; and 
 though you scorn to meet me even as an equal, I know, I feel, 
 that I am worthy of your love — that I comprehend your strange 
 nature as no one else ever will — that, had such a privilege been 
 accorded me, I could have kindled your heart, and made you 
 supremely happy. Cursed barriers have divided us always ; fate 
 denied me my right. I have suffered many things ; but does it 
 not argue, at least, in favor of my love, that it has survived all 
 the trials to which your father's hate has subjected me ? To- 
 night I could forgive him all ! all ! if I knew that he had not so 
 successfully hardened, closed your heart against me. My soul is 
 full of bitterness which would move you, if one trait of your girlish 
 nature remained. But you are not my Irene 1 The world's 
 queen, the dazzling idol of the -ball-room, is not my blue-eyed, 
 angelic Irene of old I I will intrude upon you no longer. Try at 
 least not to despise me for my folly ; I will crush it ; and if you 
 deign to remember me at all in future, think of a man who laughs at 
 his own idiotcy, and strives to forget that he ever believed there 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 331 
 
 lived one woman who would be true to her own heart, even 
 though the heavens fell and the world passed away 1" 
 
 He rose partially, but her hand fell quickly upon his shoulder, 
 and the bowed face lifted itself, stainless as starry jasmines bathed 
 in equatorial dews. 
 
 " Mr. Aubrey, you are too severe upon yourself, and very un- 
 just to me. The circumstances which conspired to alienate us were 
 far beyond my control ; I regret them as sincerely as you pos- 
 sibly can, but as unavailably. If I have individually occasioned 
 you sorrow or disappointment, God knows it was no fault of 
 mine 1 We stand on the opposite shores of a dark, bridgeless 
 gulf ; but before we turn away to be henceforth strangers, I 
 stretch out my hand to you in friendly farewell — deeply regretting 
 the pain which I may have innocently caused you, and asking 
 your forgiveness. j\[r. Aubrey, remember me as I was, not as I 
 am. Good-by, my friend. May God bless you in coming years, 
 and crown your life with the happiness you merit is the earnest 
 prayer of my heart." 
 
 The rare blue cord on her brow told how fiercely the lava- 
 flood surged under its icy bands, and the blanched lip matched 
 her cheek in colorlessness ; save these tokens of anguish, no other 
 was visible. 
 
 Russell drew down the hand from his shoulder, and folded it 
 in both his own. 
 
 " Irene, are we to walk difi'erent paths henceforth — utter 
 strangers ? Is such your will !" 
 
 " Such is the necessity, which must be as apparent to you as 
 to me. Do not doubt my friendship, Mr. Aubrey ; but doubt 
 the propriety of my parading it before the world." 
 
 lie bent his cheek down on her cold hand, then raised it to 
 his lips once, twice — laid it back on her lap, and taking his hat, 
 walked away toward town. 
 
 Two blithe crickets chirped merrily somewhere in the brick 
 pavement round the door ; a solitary mocking-bird, perched on 
 the limb of a neighboring china-tree, warbled his sweet varied 
 notes as if in answer ; the mellow diapason of the falls rose 
 soothingly over all, and the blue-robed woman sat still as the stone 
 
332 MACARIA ; OR, 
 
 steps of the factory, watching the vanishing dying sparkles of a 
 crystal draught of joy which fate had rudely dashed at her feet, 
 sternly denying the parched eager lips. 
 
 For some time she remained just as Russell had left her, then 
 the white arms and dry eyes were raised to the midnight sky. 
 
 " My God ! my God ! strengthen me in my desolation !" 
 
 She put back the folds of hair, that, damp with dew, clung 
 to her gleaming temples, and recrossing the wide road or street, 
 ntered the chamber of death. Low-spoken words crept to and 
 fro between Mrs. Martin and two middle-aged, sad-faced women 
 of the Row, who sat around the caudle on the little pine table, 
 clipping and scolloping a jaconet shroud. As Irene approached 
 the scissors rested, and all looked up. 
 
 " Where is Philip, Mrs. Martin ? I shall ask him to walk 
 home with'me, and not wait for the carriage." 
 
 " I expect he is asleep. Miss Irene — but I will wake him." 
 
 " You need not ; I think I hear wheels. Yes ; they are com- 
 ing for me. Mrs. Martin, I will see you about Susan and John- 
 nie to-morrow or next day ; meantime, I leave them in your care- 
 Goo d-night." 
 
 " What a white angel she is ! — almost as pale as the poor 
 creature on the bed yonder. I catch my breath sometunes when 
 she looks like she did just now." 
 
 All three sighed simultaneously, and the dull click, click, be- 
 gan again. 
 
 It was not the carriage which Irene met at the door, but Dr. 
 Arnold's buggy. 
 
 " Irene, are you ready to go home ?" 
 
 " Yes. Mrs. Davis is dead." 
 
 " As I w^as leaving Mrs. Churchill's, your father told me 
 where you were, and I thought I would come after you. Put on 
 your shawl and jump in. You are in a pretty plight, truly, to stand 
 over a death-bed ! ' Vanity of vanities I all is vanity !' Here 
 let me wrap that gauze cloud around your head. Now then ! " 
 
 The top of the buggy had been lowered, and as they rode 
 homeward she leaned her head back, turning her face to the 
 sickly moonlight. 
 
ALTARS OF 6ACKIFICE. 333 
 
 " Irene, did Aubrey come up here with you ?" 
 
 " No, sir. He was at the Row for awhile, however. You 
 must have met him returning." 
 
 " I did ; what did he want here ?" 
 
 " You must ask him, if you are curious. It is no business of 
 either yours or mine to watch his movements." 
 
 " I wonder he was able to tear himself from that brown Sybil, 
 Salome. What a splendid dark paii* they will be some day, 
 when he makes her Mrs. Aubrey I" 
 
 Surgeon-like, he was pressing his finger heavily on the wound, 
 but no flinching could be detected — no moan of pain ; and he was 
 startled by a singular short, quick laugh, which sounded to his 
 ear like the sudden snapping of a musical string. It was the 
 first time he had heard her laugh since her return from New 
 York. 
 
 " Sage of Sinope I how long since your transmigration iuto a 
 latter-day news-monger ?" 
 
 " News-monger be hanged I It is a transparent fact that 
 Aubrey intends to marry the daughter of Herodias. Don't you 
 believe it, Irene ?" 
 
 " Doctor, I believe I have dropped my bouquet-holder. I am 
 sorry to give you so much trouble, bnt uncle Eric bought it for 
 me in Geneva, and I should dislike to lose it. Give me the 
 reins. Yonder it is, in the sand — I see its glitter." 
 
 Fulminating inaudible plagues on the chased silver toy, the 
 doctor picked it up and placed it in her hand. 
 
 " Drop yourself out next, won't you, when you have another 
 question to dodge ?" 
 
 " What is the matter ? Who has fretted you, sir ? Were 
 you cheated out of your supper by coming after me ?" 
 
 " You fret me beyond all patience — slipping everlastingly 
 through my fingers. Child, answer me one thing truly ; are you 
 going to marry Bainbridge, as everybody believes, and as Leon- 
 ard led me to suppose ?" 
 
 " No, Dr. Arnold, I shall never marry Mr. Bainbridge." 
 
 "If he does not suit your fastidious taste, pray who will, 
 Queen ?" 
 
334 MACAEIA ; OK, ' 
 
 " You might, perhaps, if you were thirty-five years younger, 
 and a trifle less surley. Doctor, come in, and let me give you a 
 glass of \nne ; it is very late, and you must be tired." 
 
 " ^0 — but I will light my pipe at the hall-lamp." 
 
 They went into the house, and as he filled and lighted his pipe 
 his cavernous eyes ran curiously over her. 
 
 "How you have blazed to-night? Your diamonds are 
 superb." 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " Go to sleep at once, child. You look as if you had seen a 
 ghost. What has knotted up your forehead in that style ?" 
 
 " I have looked upon a melancholy death .to-night, and have 
 seen two helpless children orphaned. Come and see me soon ; I 
 want to consult you about an orphan-asylum for which father 
 has given me a lot. Good-night, sir ; I am vefy much obliged 
 to you for your kindness in bringing me home. Nobody else. is 
 half so considerate and thoughtful." 
 
 In her own room she took off the jewels, withered violets, and 
 moist tulle — and drawing on her dressing-gown, went up to the 
 observatory, and sat down on the threshold of one of the giuF.s 
 doors looking eastward. 
 
 " Think of a man who laughs at his own idiotcy, and strU'es 
 to forget that he ever believed there lived one woman who W'jnld 
 be true to her own heart, though the heavens fell and the world 
 passed away !" 
 
 These words of scorn were the burning shares over which her 
 bare feet trod, and his bitter accents wailed up and doyrn her 
 lonely heart, mournful as the ceaseless cry of " El Alma Ter- 
 dida" in moonless, breezeless Amazonian solitudes. Through 
 the remainder of that cloudless night she wrestled silently — not 
 like the Jewish patriarch, with angels — but with Despair, grim 
 as Geryon. At last, when the sky flushed rosily, hke an opal smit- 
 ten with light, and holy Resignation — the blessing born only of 
 great trial like hers — shed its heavenly chrism over the worn and 
 weary, bruized and bleeding spirit, she gathered up the mangled 
 hopes that might have gladdened, and gilded, and glorifie^l her 
 earthly career, and pressing the ruins to her heart, laid herself 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 335 
 
 meekly down, ofifering all upon the God-built altar of Filial 
 , Obedience. 
 In the 
 
 " , • . early morning, when the air 
 Was delicate with some last starry touch," 
 
 she opened the door of her father's room and approached the 
 bed. The noise wakened him, and raising himself on his elbow, 
 he looked wonderiugly at her. 
 
 " What is the matter, Irene ? You look as if you had not 
 closed your eyes." 
 
 " Father, you took me in your arras last night, and kissed me 
 as you have not done before for years ; but I feared that when Mr. 
 Bainbridge told you what passed between us at Mrs. Church- 
 hill's, you would again close your heart against me. Do not I 
 oh, do not I Because I prefer to remain at home with you rather 
 than accept his brilliant offer, ought you to love me less ? I have 
 spent a sorrowful, a wretched night, and, like a weary child, I 
 come to you to find rest for my heart. Oh, father I my father I 
 do not cast me off again ! Whom have I in the world but you ? 
 By the memory of my sainted mother I ask— I claim your 
 love I" 
 
 " You are a strange girl, Irene ; I never did understand you. 
 But I don't want to drive you from me, if you prefer to live here 
 single. There shall be peace between us, my dear daughter." 
 He leaned forward and laid his hand caressingly on her head, as 
 she knelt at his bedside, pleading with uplifted arms. 
 
 " And her face is lily clear, 
 Lily shaped and dropped in duty 
 To the law of its own beauty. 
 And a forehead fair and saintly, 
 Which two blue eyes undershine, 
 Like meek prayers before a shrine.'' 
 
336 macakia; or, 
 
 CHAPTER XXYIL 
 
 The treacherous four years lull was broken at last by the 
 mutter of the storm which was so soon to sweep over the nation, 
 prostrating all interests, and bearing desolation to almost every 
 hearthstone in our once happy, smiling land of constitutional 
 freedom. Sleepless watchmen on the tower of Southern Rights 
 • — faithful guardians, like William L. Yancey, who had stood 
 for years in advance of pubhc opinion, lifting their warning 
 voices far above the howling waves of popular faction and party 
 strife, pointing to the only path of safety — now discerned the 
 cloud upon the horizon, and at the selection of delegates to the 
 Charleston Convention hedged our cause with cautious resolu- 
 tions. Among the number appointed was Russell Aubrey ; 
 and during the tempestuous debates which ushered in the war of 
 1861, his earnest, eloquent pleadings on the question of a plat- 
 form rang through his state, touching the master-chord that 
 thrilled responsive in the great heart of the people. When de- 
 magogism triumphed in that Convention, and the Democratic 
 party was rent into hopeless fi'agments, Russell returned to stump 
 the state in favor of the only candidate whom he believed the 
 South could trust with her liberties ; and during the arduous 
 campaign that ensued, he gathered fresh laurels and won a bril- 
 liant reputation. Aside from individual ambitious projects, 
 the purest patriotism nerved him to his ceaseless labors. He 
 was deeply impressed with the vital consequences of the Impend- 
 ing election : and as the conviction forced itself upon his mind 
 that, through the demoralization of the Northern wing of 
 Democracy, Lincoln would be elected, he endeavored to prepare 
 the masses for that final separation which he foresaw was in- 
 evitable. During that five months campaign, faction, fanaticism, 
 demagogism, held high revel — ran riot through the land. Seward 
 cantered toward Washington on the hobby-labelled Emancipa- 
 tion, dragging Lincoln at his heels ; and Breckinridge, our noble 
 standard-bearer, with the constitution in his hand, pressed on to 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 337 
 
 save the sacred precincts of the capitol from pollution. The 
 gauntlet had been thrown down by the South at Charleston and 
 Baltimore : '* The election of a sectional president will be the 
 signal for separation." The North sneered at the threat, de- 
 rided the possibility, and in frantic defiance the die was cast. 
 The 6th of Xovember dawned upon a vast populous empire, rich 
 in every resource, capable of the acme of human greatness and 
 prosperity, claiming to be the guardian of peaceful liberty. It 
 set upon a nation rent m twain, between whose sections yawned 
 a bottomless, bridgeless gulf, where the shining pillars of the 
 temple of Concord had stood for eighty years, and a .grating 
 sound of horror shuddered through the land as the brazen, blood- 
 clotted doors of Janus flung themselves suddenly wide apart. 
 Lincoln was elected. Abolitionism, so long adroitly cloaked, 
 was triumphantly clad in robes of state — shameless now, and 
 hideous, and while the North looked upon the loathsome face of 
 its political Mokanna, the South prepared for resistance. 
 
 No surer indication of the purpose of the Southern people 
 could have been furnished, than the temper in which the news 
 was received. No noisy outbursts, expending resolve in empty 
 wor^s — no surface excitement — but a stern calm gloom,^set lips, 
 heavy bent brows, appropriate in men who realized that they 
 had a revolution on their hands ; not indignation meetings, with 
 fruitless resolutions — that they stood as body-guard for the 
 liberty of the Republic, and would preserve the trust at all 
 hazards. It would seem that, for a time at least, party animosi- 
 ties would have been crushed ; but, like the Eumenides of 
 Orestes, they merely slept for a moment, starting up wolfish and 
 implacable as ever ; and even here, in many instances, the old 
 acrimony of feeling showed itself. Bitter differences sprang up 
 at the very threshold on the 'modus operandi of Southern release 
 from Yankee-Egyptic bondage. Separate " state action" or 
 " co-operation" divided the people, many of whom were earnestly 
 impresse'd by the necessity and expediency of deliberate, con- 
 certed, simultaneous action on the part of all the Southern states, 
 while others vehemently advocated this latter course solely be- 
 cause the former plan was advanced and supported by their old 
 
338 MAC ARIA ; OR, 
 
 opponents. In this new issue, as if fate persistently fanned the 
 flame of hate between Mr. Huntingdon and Russell Aubrey, 
 they were again opposed as candidates for the State Convention, 
 Ah 1 will the ghost of Faction ever be laid in this our republi- 
 can land ? Shall this insatiate immemorial political Fenris for 
 ever prey upon the people ? 
 
 W was once more convulsed, and strenuous efforts 
 
 were made by both sides. Russell was indefatigable in his 
 labors for prompt, immediate state action, proclaiming his belief 
 that co-operation was impracticable before secession ; and it was 
 now that his researches in the dusty regions of statistics came 
 admirably into play, as he built up his arguments on solid founda- 
 tions of indisputable calculation. 
 
 For the first time in her life Irene openly confronted her father's 
 wrath on political grounds. She realized the imminence of the 
 danger, dreaded the siren song of co-operation, and dauutlessly 
 discussed the matter without hesitation. The contest was close 
 and heated, and resulted somewhat singularly in the election of 
 a mixed ticket — two Secessionists being returned, and one Co- 
 operationist, Mr. Huntingdon, owing to personal popularity. 
 
 While the entire South was girding for the contest, S^uth 
 Carolina, ever the avant courier in the march of freedom, 
 seceded ; and if doubt had existed before, it vanished now from 
 every mind — for all felt that the gallant state must be sustained. 
 Soon after, Russell and Mr. Huntingdon stood face to face on 
 the floor of their own state convention, and wrestled desperately. 
 The latter headed the opposition, and so contumacious did it 
 prove that for some days, the fate of the state lay in dangerous 
 equilibrium. Finally, the vigilance of the Secessionists prevailed, 
 and, late in the afternoon of a winter day, the ordinance was signed. 
 
 Electricity flashed the decree to every portion of the state, 
 and the thunder of artillery and blaze of countless illuminations 
 told that the people gratefully and joyfully accepted the verdict. 
 
 W was vociferous ; and as Irene gazed from the colonade 
 
 on the distant but brilliant rows of lights flaming along the 
 streets, she regretted that respect for her father's feelings kept 
 the windows of her own home dark and cheerless. 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 339 
 
 Revolution is no lagrgard, })nt swift winged as Hermes ; and 
 in quick succession seven sovereign states, in virtue of the inherent 
 rights of a people acknowledging allegiance only to the funda- 
 mental doctrine that all just governments rest on the consent of 
 the governed, organized a provisional government, sprang, Pallas- 
 like, upon the political arena, and claimed an important role in 
 the grand drama of the nineteenth century. It is not to be 
 expected that a man of Mr. Huntingdon's known acerbity of 
 temper would yield gracefully to a. defeat against which he had 
 struggled so earnestly, and he submitted with characteristic 
 suUenness. 
 
 Great contrariety of opinion prevailed concerning the course 
 of the Federal government — many deluding themselves with the 
 belief that the separation would be peaceful. But Russell had 
 stated his conviction at the time of Lincoln's election, that no 
 bloodless revolution of equal magnitude had yet been effected, 
 and that we must prepare to pay the invariable sacrificial dues 
 which liberty inexorably demands. 
 
 So firm was this belief, that he applied himself to the study of 
 military tactics, in anticipation of entering the army ; and many 
 a midnight found him bending over Hardee, Mahan, Gilham, 
 Jomini, and Army Regulations. 
 
 The 12th and 13th of April were days of unexampled excite- 
 ment throughout the Southern states. The discharge of the 
 first gun from Fort Moultrie crushed the last lingering vestiges 
 of " Unionism," and welded the entire Confederacy in one huge 
 homogeneous mass of stubborn resistance to despotism. With the 
 explosion of the first shell aimed by General Beauregard against 
 Fort Sumter burst the frail painted bubble of " Reconstruction," 
 which had danced alluringly upon the dark, surging billows of 
 
 revolution. W was almost wild with anxiety ; and in 
 
 the afternoon of the second day of the bombardment, as Irene 
 watched the avenue, she saw her father driving rapidly home- 
 ward. Descending the steps, she met him at the buggy. 
 
 " Beauregard has taken Sumter. Anderson surrendered 
 unconditionally. Ko lives lost." 
 
 "Thank God!" 
 
340 macaria; or, 
 
 They sat down on the steps, and a moment after the roar of 
 guns shook the atmosphere, and cheer after cheer went up the 
 evening sky. 
 
 ** Act 1, of a long and bloody civil war," said Mr. Huntingdon 
 gravely. 
 
 " Perhaps so, father ; but it was forced upon us. We left no 
 honorable means untried to prevent it, and now it must be accept- 
 ed as the least of two evils. Political bondage — worse than 
 Russian serfdom — or armed resistance ; no other alternative, 
 turn it which way you will ; and the Southern people are not of 
 stufif to deliberate as to choice in such an issue . God is witness 
 that we have earnestly endeavored to avert hostilities— that the 
 blood of this war rests upon the government at Washington : 
 our hands are stainless." 
 
 " I believe you are right, and to-day I have come to a deter- 
 mination which will doubtless surprise you." 
 
 He paused, and eyed her a moment. 
 
 " No, father ; I am not surprised that you have determined 
 to do your duty." 
 
 " How, Irene ? What do you suppose that it is ?" 
 
 " To use Nelson's words, the Confederacy * expects that every 
 man will do his duty ;' and you are going into the army." 
 
 " Who told you that ?" 
 
 " My own heart, father ; which tells me what I should do were 
 I in your place." 
 
 ** Well, I have written to Montgomery, to Clapham, to ten- 
 der my services. We Avere at West Point together ; I served 
 under him at Coutreras and Chapultepec, and he will no doubt 
 press matters through promptly. The fact is, I could not possi- 
 bly stay at home now. My blood has been at boiling heat since 
 yesterday morning, when I read Beauregard's first despatch." 
 
 " Did you specify any branch of the service ?" 
 
 " Yes ; told him I preferred artillery. What is the matter ? 
 Your lips are as white as cotton. Courage failing you already, 
 at thought of grape, shell, and canister ?" 
 
 A long shiver crept over her, and she shielded her face with 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 341 
 
 lier hands. "When she met his eagle eye again her voice was un- 
 steady. 
 
 " Oh, father ! if I were only a man, that I might go with you 
 — stand by you under all circumstances. Could n't you take me 
 anyhow ? Surely a daughter may follow her father, even on the 
 battle-field?" 
 
 He laughed lightly, and swept his fingers over her head. 
 
 " Could n't you learn a little common-sense, if you were to try ? 
 Do you suppose I want all this gold braid of yours streaming in 
 my face while I am getting my guns in position ? A pretty fig- 
 ure you would cut in the midst of my battery ! Really, though, 
 Irene, I do not believe that you would flinch before all the can- 
 non of Borodino. My blood beats at your heart, and it has never 
 yet shown a cowardly drop. If you were a boy, I swear you 
 would not disgrace my name in any conflict. By the way, what 
 shall I do with you ? It won't do to leave you here all alone." 
 
 " Why not, father ? Home is certainly the proper place for 
 me, if you can not take me with you." 
 
 " What ! with nobody but the servants ?" 
 
 " They will take better care of me than anybody else. Nellie, 
 and Andrew, and John are the only guardians I want in your 
 absence. They have watched over me all my life, and they will 
 do it to the end. Give yourself no trouble, sir, on my account." 
 
 " I suppose your uncle Eric will be home before long ; he can 
 stay here till I come back — or — till the troubles are over. In the 
 meantime, you could be with the Harrises, or Hendersons, or 
 Mrs. Churchhill." 
 
 " No, sir ; I can stay here, which is infinitely preferable on 
 many accounts. I will, with your permission, invite Mrs. Canip 
 bell to shut up the parsonage in her husband's absence, and re- 
 main with me till uncle Eric returns. I have no doubt that she 
 will be glad to make the change. Do you approve the plan ?" 
 
 " Yes. That arrangement will answer for the present, and 
 Arnold will be here to take care of you." 
 
 At the close of a week a telegraphic despatch was received, 
 informing Mr. Huntingdon of his appointment as major in the 
 
3 42 MACAETA ; OR, 
 
 provisional army of the Confederacy, and containing an order to 
 report immediately for duty. 
 
 Some days of delay were consumed in necessary preparations 
 for an indefinite absence. Sundry papers were drawn up by 
 Judge Harris — an old will w^as destroyed, a new one made — 
 and explicit directions were reiterated to .the overseer at the 
 plantation. More reticent than ever, Irene busied herself in de- 
 vising and arranging various little comforts for her father, when 
 he should be debarred from the luxuries of home. No traces of 
 tears were ever visible on her grave, composed face ; but several 
 times, on coming suddenly into the room, he found that her work 
 had fallen into her lap, and that her head was bowed down on 
 her arms. Once he distinguished low pleading words of prayer. 
 She loved him with a devotion very rarely found between father 
 and child, and this separation cost her hours of silent agony, 
 which even her father could not fully appreciate. 
 
 Having completed his arrangements, and ordered the carriage 
 to be in readiness at daylight next morning to convey him to the 
 depot, he bade her good-night much as usual, and retired to his 
 own room. 
 
 But thought was too busy to admit of sleep. He turned rest- 
 lessly on his pillow, rose, and smoked a second cigar, and return- 
 ed, to find himself more wakefiil than ever. The clock down 
 stairs in the library struck one ; his door opened softly, and, by 
 the dim moonlight struggling through the window, he saw Irene 
 glide to his bedside. 
 
 " Why don't you go to sleep, Irene ?" 
 
 " Because I can't. I am too miserable.'^ 
 
 Her voice was dry, but broken, faltering. 
 
 " I never knew you to be nervous before ; I thought you 
 scorned nerves ? Here, my daughter — take this pillow, and lie 
 down by me." 
 
 She put her arm about his neck, drawing his face close to hers, 
 and he felt her lips quiver as they touched his cheek. 
 
 " Father, when you know exactly where you are to be station- 
 ed, won't you let me come and stay somewhere in the vicinity, 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 343 
 
 where I can be with you if you sliouM l)e wounded ? Do prom- 
 b.e me this ; it will be the only comfort I can have." 
 
 "The neighborliood of an army would not be a pleasant place 
 for you ; beside, you could do me no good even if I were hurt. 
 I shall have a surgeon to attend to all such work much better 
 than your inexperienced hands could possibly do it. I am sur- 
 prised at you, Irene ; upon my word, I am. I thought you 
 wanted me to go into service promptly ?" 
 
 " So I do, father. I think that every man in the Confederacy 
 who can leave his familv should be in our armv : but a stern 
 sense of duty does not prevent people from suffering at separa- 
 tion and thought of danger. I should be unworthy of my coun- 
 try if T were selfish enough to want to keep you from its de- 
 fence ; and yet I were unworthy of my father if I could see you 
 leave home, under such circumstances, without great grief. Oh I 
 if I could only go with you I But to have to stay here, useless 
 and inactive !" 
 
 " Yes — it is bad to be obliged to leave you behind, but it can't 
 be helped. I should feel much better satisfied if you were mar- 
 ried, and had somebody to take care of you in case anything 
 happens to me. It is your own fault that you are not ; I never 
 could understand what possessed you to discard Bainbridge. 
 Still, that is past, and I suppose irreparable, and now you must 
 abide by your own choice." 
 
 " I am satisfied with my choice ; have no regrets on any score, 
 save that of your departure. But, father, the future is dark and 
 uncertain ; and I feel that I want an assurance of your entire 
 reconciliation and aff'ection before you go. I came here to say 
 to you that I deeply regret all the unfortunate circumstances of 
 toy life which caused you to treat me so coldly for a season — 
 that if in anything I have ever seemed obstinate or undutiful, it 
 was not because I failed in love for you, but from an unhappy 
 difference of opinion as to my duty under very trying circum- 
 stances. Father, my heart ached very bitterly under your 
 estrangement — the very memory is unutterably painful. I want 
 your full, free forgiveness now, for all the trouble I have ever oo- 
 casioued you. Ob, father ! give it to me 1" 
 
344 MAC ARIA ; OR, 
 
 He drew her close to liim^ and kissed her twice. 
 
 " You have my forgiveness, my daughter — though I must tell you 
 that your treatment of poor Hugh has been a continual source of 
 sorrow and keen disappointment to me. I never can forget your 
 disobedience in that matter. I do not believe you will ever be 
 happy, you have such a strange disposition ; but since you took 
 matters so completely in your own hands, you have only yourself 
 to reproach. Irene, I very often wonder whether you have any 
 heart — for it seems to me that if you have, it would- have been 
 won by the devotion which has been lavished on you more than 
 once. You are the only woman I ever knew who appeared ut- 
 terly incapable of love ; and I sometimes wonder what will become 
 of you when I am dead." 
 
 " God will protect me. I look continually to his guardianship. 
 Father, do not be offended if I beg you most earnestly to give 
 some thought to Him who has blessed you so abundantly in the 
 privileges of this world, and to prepare for that future into which 
 you may be usliered, at any moment, from the battle-field. You 
 have never allowed me to speak to you on this subject ; but oh, 
 my dear father I it is too solemn a question to be put aside any 
 longer. If you would only pray for yourself, my mind would be 
 eased of such a weight of anxiety and apprehension. Oh I that 
 the spirit of my mother may join in my prayers before the Throne 
 in your behalf." 
 
 He unclasped her arm and turned his face away, saying coldly : 
 
 " Do you consider it your privilege to tell me that I am so 
 wicked there is no hope for me in the next world, if there be 
 one ?" 
 
 " No ! no ! father I but it is enjoined, as the duty of even the 
 purest and holiest, to acknowledge their dependence upon God, 
 and to supplicate his mercy and direction. It is true, I pray con- 
 stantly for you, but that is a duty which our Maker requires 
 every individual to perform for himself. Do not be displeased, 
 father ; if it were anything less than your eternal happiness, I 
 should not presume to question your conduct. I can only hope 
 and trust that your life will be spared, and that some day you 
 will without offence, suffer me to talk to you of what deeply con- 
 
ALTARS OF SACRTFICE. 345 
 
 corns my peace of mind. I won't keep you awake any longer, as 
 you have a tedious journey before you. Good-night, my dear 
 father." 
 
 She kissed him tenderly and left him, closing the door softly 
 behind her. 
 
 A spectral crescent moon flickered in the sky, and stars still 
 burned in the violet East, when the carriage drove to the door, 
 and Irene followed her father to the steps. 
 
 Even in that dim, uncertain grey light he could see that her 
 face was rigid and haggard, and tears filled his cold, brilliant eyes 
 as he folded her to his heart. 
 
 " Good-by, Beauty. Cheer up, my brave child ! and look on 
 the bright side. After all, I may come back a brigadier-general, 
 and make you one of my staff-officers ! You shall be my adjutant, 
 and light up my office with your golden head. Take care of 
 yourself till Eric comes, and write to me often. Good-by, my 
 dear, my darling daughter." 
 
 She trembled convulsively, pressing her lips repeatedly to his. 
 
 " Oh, may God bless you, my father, and bring you safely back 
 to me !" 
 
 He unwound her arms, put her gently aside, and stepped into 
 the carriage. 
 
 William, the cook, who was to accompany him, stood sobbing 
 liear the door, and now advancing, grasped her hand. 
 
 " Good-by, Miss Irene. May the Lord protect you all till we 
 come back." 
 
 " William, I look to you to take care of father, and let me 
 know at once if anything happens." 
 
 " I will. Miss Irene. I promise you I will take good care of 
 master, and telegraph you if he is hurt." 
 
 He wrung her hand, the carriage rolled rapidly away, and the 
 sorrow-stricken, tearless woman sat down on the steps and 
 dropped her head in her hands. Old Nellie drew near, wiping 
 her eyes, and essaying comfort. 
 
 " Don't fret so, child. When trouble comes it will be time 
 enough to grieve over it. Master was in the Mexican war, and 
 never had a scratch ; and maybe he will be as lucky this time. 
 
 15* ^ 
 
346 MACAETA ; OE, 
 
 Don't harden your face in that flinty way. You never would 
 cry like other children, but just set yourself straight up, for al 
 the world like one of the stone figures standing over your 
 grandfather's grave. Try to come and take a nap ; I know you 
 have n't shut your eyes this night." 
 
 " No — I can't sleep. Go in, Nellie, and leave me to myself." 
 
 The shrill scream of the locomotive rang through the still, dewy 
 air, and between two neighboring hills the long train of cars 
 dashed on, leaving a fiery track of sparks as it disappeared around 
 a curve. Oppressed with a horrible dread, against which she 
 struG^gled in vain, Irene remained alone, and was onlv aroused 
 from her painful reverie by the low musical cooing of the pigeons, 
 already astir. As they fluttered and nestled about, she extended 
 her arms, and catching two of the gentlest to her heart, murmured, 
 mournfully : 
 
 " Come, messengers of peace ! bring me resignation. Teach 
 me patience and faith." 
 
 The empty carriage came slowly up the avenue, as if returning 
 from a funeral, and passed to the stable-yard ; birds chirped, 
 twittered, sang in the wavering, glistening tree-tops ; the sun 
 flashed up in conquering splendor, and the glory of the spring day 
 broke upon the world. 
 
 " ' To-day thou girdest up thy loins thyself, 
 And goest where thou would'st : presently 
 Others shall gix'd thee,' said the lord, 'to go 
 "VMiere thou would'st not.' " 
 
 CHAPTER XXYIir. 
 
 To those who reside at the convulsed throbbing heart of a 
 great revolution, a lifetime seems compressed into the compass of 
 days and weeks, and men and women are conscious of growing 
 prematurely old while watching the rushing, thundering tramp of 
 events, portentous with the fate of nations. W presented 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 347 
 
 the appearance of a military camp, rather than the peaceful manu- 
 facturing town of yore. Every vacant lot was converted into 
 a parade-ground — and the dash of cavalry, the low, sullen rumbling 
 of artillery, and the slow, steady tread of infantry, echoed through 
 its wide, handsome streets. Flag-staffs were erected from public 
 buildings, private residences, and at the most frequent corners, 
 and from these floated banners of ail sizes, tossing proudly to the 
 balmy breeze the new-born ensign of freedom — around which 
 clustered the hopes of a people who felt that upon them, and them 
 only, now devolved the sacred duty of proving to the world the 
 capacity of a nation for self government. In view of the ini- 
 quitous and impossible task which it had insanely set itself to ac- 
 complish, the government at Washington had swept aside all 
 constitutional forms, in order to free its hands for the work of 
 blood — had ultimated in complete despotism. The press was 
 thoroughly muzzled — freedom of speech was erased from the 
 list of American privileges ; the crowded cells of Bastile Lafay- 
 ette, Mc Henry, and Warren wailed out to the civilized world 
 that habeas corpus was no more ; and, terror-stricken at the 
 hideous figure of Absolutism carved by the cunning fingers of 
 Lincoln and Seward, and set up for worship at Washington, Lib- 
 erty fled from her polluted fane, and sought shelter and shrine on 
 the banner of the Confederacy, in the dauntless, devoted hearts 
 of its unconquerable patriots. Proudly and fondly was the divinity 
 guarded. Smiling flowery valleys rang with pjeans that rose high 
 above the din of deadly strife — and rugged, lonely hills and puf*^ 
 pie mountains lifted themselves to the God of battle, like huge 
 smoking altars red with the noble blood of slauo-htered heroes. 
 Loathing and detestation succeeded the old afl*ection for the 
 Federal government, and the "Union" became everywhere the 
 synonyme of political duplicity, despotism, and the utter al)- 
 rogation of all that had once constituted American freedom, and 
 rendered the republic, in earlier years, the civil Pharos of Chris- 
 tendom. The Confederacy realized that the hour had arrived 
 when the historic Sphinx must find an (Ediplms, or Democratic 
 Republican Ijiberty would be devoured, swept away, with the 
 debris of other dead systems. Lifting their eyes to God for 
 
348 MACARIA ; OR, 
 
 blessing, the men of the South girded on their swords and resolved, 
 calmly and solemnly, to prove that (Edipus — to read, and for ever 
 set at rest the haunting, vexing riddle. Another adjective then 
 *' Spartan" must fleck with glory the pages of future historians, 
 for all the stern resolution and self-abnegation of Rome and Lace- 
 dcemon had entered the souls of Southern women. Mothers 
 closed their lips firmly to repress a wail of sorrow as they buckled 
 on the swords of their first-born, and sent them forth with a 
 " God-speed !" to battle for the right ; fond wives silently packed 
 their husbands' knapsacks, with hands that knew no faltering ; 
 and sisters with tearless eyes, bent by the light of midnight 
 lamps over canteens which their thoughtful care covered for 
 brothers who were to start to the scene of action on the morrow. 
 A nation of laboring, nimble-fingered, prayerful-hearted, brave- 
 spirited women, and chivalric, high-souled, heroic men, who had 
 never learned that Americans could live and not be free. Grant 
 us our reward, oh God ! the independence of the land we hold 
 so dear. 
 
 W gave her young men liberally ; company after com- 
 pany was equipped, furnished with ample funds by the munifi- 
 cence of citizens who remained, and sent forward to Virginia, to 
 make their breasts a shield for the proud old " Mother of Presi- 
 dents." The battle of Bethel was regarded as part of an over- 
 ture to the opera of Blood, yclept " Subjugation," and people 
 watched in silence for the crimson curtain to rise on the banks of 
 the Potomac. Russell Aubrey had succeeded in raising a fine 
 full company for the war, as contra-distinguished from twelve- 
 months volunteers ; and to properly drill and discipline it, he 
 bent all the energy of his character. It was made the nucleus 
 of a new regiment, recruits gathered rapidly, and when the regi- 
 ment organized, preparatory to starting for Virginia, he was 
 elected colonel, with Herbert Blackwell for lieutenant-colonel, 
 and Charles Harris was appointed adjutant. They were tempo- 
 rarily encamped on the common between the railroad depot and 
 Mr. Huntingdon's residence, and from the observatory or colon- 
 nade Irene could look down on the gleaming tents and the flag- 
 staflf that stood before the officers' quarters. Reveille startled 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 349 
 
 her at dawn, and tattoo rep^nlarly warned her of the shortness of 
 summer nights. As tlie fiery carriage-horses would not brook 
 the sight of the encampment, she discarded them for a time, and 
 when compelled to leave home rode Erebus at no slight risk of 
 lier life — for he evinced the greatest repugnance to the sound of 
 drum or fife. 
 
 One afternoon she went over to the Row, and thence to the 
 factory. A new company had been named in honor of her fa- 
 ther ; uniforms and haversacks were to be furnished, and Mr. 
 Huntingdon had intrusted her with the commission. Selecting 
 the cloth and accomplishing her errand, she returned by way 
 of the orphan-asylum, whose brick walls were rapidly rising un- 
 der her supervision. One of the workmen took her horse, and 
 she went over the building, talking to the principal mechanic 
 about some additional closets which she desired to have inserted. 
 Dr. Arnold chanced to be passing, but saw Erebus at the 
 gate, stopped, and came in. 
 
 " I was just going up the Hill to see you, Queen — glad I am 
 saved the trouble. Here, sit down a minute ; I will clear the 
 shavings away. When did you hear from Leonard ?" 
 
 " I had a letter yesterday. He was well, and on outpost duty 
 near Manassas." 
 
 " Well, I shall join him very soon." 
 
 " Sir ?" 
 
 " I say I shall join him very soon ; don't you believe it ? 
 Why should n't I serve my country as well as younger men ? 
 The fact is, I am going as surgeon of Aubrey's regiment. It 
 would never do to have the handsome young colonel maimed for 
 life, through the awkwardness of a new-fledged M. D. Miss Sa- 
 lome would spoil her superb eyes with crying — which catastrophe 
 would, doubtless, distress him more than the loss of a limb — 
 eh, Irene?" 
 
 She looked at him, betraying neither surprise nor regret. 
 
 ** When will you leave W ?" 
 
 " Day after to-morrow morning ; can't get transportation any 
 sooner. Aubrey has received orders to report at once to Gene- 
 ral Beauregard. Child, have you been sick ?" 
 
350 MACARIA ; OR, 
 
 " No, sir. I am glad you are going with the regiment ; very 
 glad. Every good surgeon in the Confederacy should hasten to 
 the front line of our armies. Since you leave home, I am par- 
 ticularly glad that you are going to Manassas, where you can be 
 near father." 
 
 " Humph ! Do you suppose that I am a patent life-preserver 
 against minie balls and grape-shot ?" 
 
 " I know you will do all that skill and affection can suggest, 
 and I shall feel much better satisfied." 
 
 He mused a moment, watching her furtively. 
 
 " I suppose you have heard of the performance for to-mor- 
 row ?" 
 
 " No, sir. To what do you allude ?" 
 
 " The daughter of Herodias is preparing to dance." 
 
 " I don't understand you. Doctor." 
 
 " Oh, don't you, indeed ? Well, then, she intends to present 
 a splendid regimental flag with her own brown hands ; and as 
 Aubrey is to receive it, the regiment will march to Mrs. Church- 
 hill's, where the speeches will be delivered. Will you attend ?" 
 
 " Scarcely, I presume, as I am not invited. I knew that Sa- 
 lome was having an elegant flag made, but was not aware that 
 to-morrow was appointed for the ceremony of presentation." 
 
 " Who will look after you when I am gone ? You are the 
 only tie I have here. I can't bear to leave you." 
 
 " I dare say I shall get on very well ; and, beside, you, of 
 course, must go and do your duty, no matter what happens." 
 
 " But you will be so lonely and isolated till Eric comes." 
 
 She smiled suddenly, strangely, yet with no tinge of bitter- 
 ness. 
 
 " That is nothing new. I have been solitary all my life." 
 
 " And it is your own fault. You might have married like 
 other people, and been happier." 
 
 " You are mistaken in assuming that I am not happy in my 
 home." 
 
 " Hush, Irene ! hush ! I know the signs of true happiness, if 
 I don't possess it myself. You never murmur ; oh, no ! — you 
 are too proud ! You don't droop like some poor, weak, sickly 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. '351 
 
 souls ; oh, no ! — you are too stately and regal. Yon will live 
 and die a model of reticent chill propriety ; and when you are 
 in your shroud your placid, treacherous face will bear no witness 
 that you were cheated out of your rights in this world." 
 
 Again she smiled, and laid her hand on his. 
 
 " What a pity you mistook your forte in early life ; with such 
 a fertile imagination, not physic, but fiction, was your calling. 
 When will you come to see me ? I want you to take a parcel 
 to father for me ; and then I want to have a long talk." 
 
 "I know what the long talk amounts to. You need not hold 
 out any such rosy-cheeked apples of Sodom as a bait. I am 
 coming, of course, after the flag ceremonies, where I am expect- 
 ed. At one o'clock I will be at the Hill — perhaps earlier. 
 Where now ?" 
 
 " I must go by Mrs. Baker's, to see about giving out some sew- 
 ing for the * Huntingdon Rifles.' I can't do it all at home, and sev- 
 eral families here require work. I shall expect you at one o'clock 
 — shall have lunch ready for you. By the way, Doctor, isthere 
 anything I can do for you in the sewing line ? It would give me 
 genuine pleasure to make something for you, if you will only tell 
 me what you need. Think over your wants." 
 
 She had caught up her reins, but paused, looking at him. He 
 averted his head quickly. 
 
 " I will tell you to-morrow. Good-evening." 
 
 Turning from the town, she took a narrow sandy road leading 
 among low, irregular hills, and after passing a thicket of sweet- 
 gum, bay, and poplar, that bordered a clear, brawling, rocky-bo- 
 somed stream which ran across the j^ad, she rode up to a three- 
 roomed log-house. Two small children, with anomalous bluish- 
 white hair, were playing marbles in the passage, and a boy, ap- 
 parently ten years of age, was seated on the ground, whist- 
 ling " Dixie," and making split baskets, such as are generally 
 used on plantations for picking cotton. He threw down his 
 work and ran to open the gate, which was tied with a piece of 
 rope. 
 
 " How do you do, Hanson ? Is your mother at home ?" 
 
 " Yes, ma'm." 
 
352 MACAETA ; OE, 
 
 She gave him her bridle and entered the house, in one of the 
 rooms of which she found a tall, muscular, powerful-looking wo- 
 man kneeling on the floor, and engaged in cutting out work 
 from a roll of striped cloth. Putting her grayish hair behind 
 her eare, she paused, looked up, and, with scissors in hand, said, 
 bluntly : 
 
 " Be seated. Miss Irene. I have n't time, or I would get up. 
 Lucinda, bring some water fresh from the spring, and if your 
 grandmother is awake, tell her Miss Irene is here." 
 
 "I see you have not finished your contract, Mrs. Baker." 
 " Very nearlv, ma'm. I will finish ofi" and send in the last lot 
 of these haversacks by tweve o'clock to-morrow. The captain was 
 out to-day to hnrry me up ; said the regiment had orders to 
 leave day after to-morrow. I gave him my word he should have 
 them by noon, and that is something I never break." 
 " Have you heard from your husband since I saw you ?" 
 Agaiu the busy scissors paused. 
 
 " Not a word. But my boy, Robert, has had a terrible spell 
 of fever in Lynchburg. I received a few lines from the doctor 
 of the hospital yesterday. Thank God ! he was better when the 
 letter was written. His father knows nothing of it. I can't 
 find out exactly where Mr. Baker's company is. They are do- 
 ing good service, I hope, somewhere — making their mark on the 
 Union wretches in the Virginia valley. I want to hear that ray 
 husband had a hand in burning Wheeling." 
 
 " I believe you told me that you were from Virginia." 
 " Yes, ma'm ; but not from that part of it, I want you to 
 understand. I was born in Amelia, thank my stars ! and that 
 is as true as steel." 
 
 " It must be a great trial to you to have your husband and 
 son so far off, and yet separated." 
 
 '' Of course I hate to have them away, and times are hard for 
 such a family as mine, with little means of support ; but I don't 
 grieve. Every man has to do his duty now, and every woman, 
 too. I told Stephen I thought I could take care of the children 
 and myself — that I would rather live on acorns, than that lie 
 should not serve his country when it needed him ; and I told 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 353 
 
 Robert, when I fixed liim off, that I never would die contented 
 if he and his father did not both do something to distinguish 
 themselves in this war. I am a poor woman, Miss Irene, but 
 no soul loves the Confederacy better than I do, or will work 
 harder for it. I have no money to lend our government, but I 
 give my husband and my child — and two better soldiers no state 
 can show." 
 
 " You have done your part nobly and I trust both your 
 dear ones will be spared, and brought safely back to you. How 
 is your mother to-day ?" 
 
 " Very feeble. I was up nearly all night with her. She had 
 one of her bad spells. Have some water ; it is sweet and cold." 
 
 " Do you want any more work this week ?" 
 
 " Yes, ma'm ; I should like some after to-morrow. Do you 
 know where I can get any ?" 
 
 " I can give you seveiity-five flannel ovcrshirts, and the same 
 number of haversacks ; but you could scarcely finish them all in 
 time, and I thought I would send you the shirts, and let Mrs. 
 Pritchard take the haversacks.'* 
 
 " I shall be very glad to get them. You are not raising a 
 company yourself, Miss Irene ?" 
 
 " Oh, no I but there is a new company named ' Huntingdon 
 Rifles' for my father, and he wishes to give them everything 
 they need. When can you come in to see me about cutting out 
 the shirts ?" 
 
 " Day after to-morrow morning, quite early, if it will suit 
 you." 
 
 " That will suit me very well. Here is that remedy for asthma, 
 which I mentioned to you once before. If you will try it faith- 
 fully, 1 have no doubt it will at least relieve your mother of 
 much sufTering. If you can't find the ingredients here, let me know, 
 and I can get them from the plantation." 
 
 As the kneeling figure received the slip of paper she rose, and 
 tears gathered in the large clear gray eyes. 
 
 " Thank you. Miss Irene ; it is very good of you to remember 
 my poor old mother so constantly. I am afraid nothing will 
 ever do her much good ; but I am grateful to you, and will try 
 
354 MACARIA ; OR, 
 
 your remedy faithfully. I want to thank you, too, for the good 
 you have done Hanson ; I never saw a boy so changed. He is 
 up by daylight Sunday mornings, getting all things in trim, so 
 that he can be off to Sabbath-school. I have always tried to 
 teach my children to be honest and upright, but I am afraid I 
 did not do my duty fully ; I am afraid they were neglected in 
 some respects, till you began with them in Sabbath-school." 
 
 '' Your children all learn very readily, but Hanson is particu- 
 larly blight. I am very glad to have him in my class ; he is 
 one of my best pupils." 
 
 As she went homeward a shadow fell upon her face — a shadow 
 darker than that cast by the black plume in her riding-hat — and 
 once or twice her lips writhed from then* ordinary curves of 
 beauty. Xearing the encampment she lowered her veil, but saw 
 that dress parade had been dismissed, and as she shook the reins 
 and Erebus quickened his gallop, she found herself face to face 
 with the colonel, who had just mounted his horse and was riding 
 toward town. She looked at him and bowed ; but, in passing, 
 he kept his eyes fixed on the road before him, and in the duski- 
 ness his face seemed colder and more inflexible than ever. Such 
 had been the manner of their occasional meetings since the inter- 
 view at the factory, and she was not surprised that this, her first 
 greeting, was disregarded. The public believed that an engage- 
 ment existed between him and Salome, and the attentions heaped 
 upon him by the family of the latter certainly gave color to the 
 report. But Irene was not deceived ; she had learned to under- 
 stand his nature, and knew that his bitterness of feeling and 
 studied avoidance of herself betokened that the old affection had 
 not been crushed. Struggling with the dictates of her heart, 
 and a sense of the respect due to her father's feelings, she passed 
 a sleepless night in pacing the gallery of the observatory. It 
 was a vigil of almost intolerable perplexity and anguish. Under 
 all its painful aspects she patiently weighed the matter, and at 
 sunrise next morning, throwing open the bUnds of her room, she 
 drew her rose- wood desk to the window, and wrote these words : 
 " Col. Aubrey : 
 
 " Before you leave W allow me to see you for a few 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 355 
 
 moments. If yonr departure is positively fixed for to-morrow, 
 come to nie this afternoon, at any hour which may be most 
 convenient. 
 
 " Respectfully, 
 
 "Irene Huntingdon. 
 
 " Hmitingdon Hill, June, 1861." 
 
 As the regiment prepared to march to Mrs. Churchhill's resi- 
 dence, the note was received from Andrew's hands. Returning 
 his sword to its scabbard, the colonel read the paper twice, three 
 times — a heavy frown gathered on his forehead, his swarthy 
 cheek fired, and, thrusting the note into his pocket, he turned to- 
 ward his regiment, saying hastily to the servant : 
 
 *' You need not wait. No answer is expected." 
 
 At the breakfast-table Irene opened a hasty missive from Sa- 
 lome, inviting her to be present at the presentation of the flag, 
 and begging a few choice flowers for the occasion. Smiling 
 quietly, she filled the accompanying basket with some of the 
 rarest treasures of the green-house, added a bowl of raspberries 
 which the gardener had just brought in, and seat all, with a brief 
 line excusing herself from attending. 
 
 The morning was spent in writing to her father, preparing a 
 parcel for him, and in superintending the making of a large quan- 
 tity of blackberry jelly and cordial for the use of the hospitals. 
 
 About noon Dr. Arnold came, and found her engaged in seal- 
 ing up a number of the jars, all neatly labelled. The day was 
 warm ; she had pushed back her hair from her brow, as she bent 
 over her work ; the full sleeves were pinned up above the elbow, 
 and she wore a white check-muslin apron to protect her dress 
 from the resin and beeswax. 
 
 " In the name of Medea and her Colchian caldron I what are 
 you about, Irene V" 
 
 " Fixing a box of hospital stores for you to take with you." 
 
 " Fixing I you Yankee 1 crucify that word I I detest it. Say 
 arranging, getting up, putting in order, aggregating, conglomer- 
 ating, or what you will, but save my ears from * fixing 1' How 
 do I know that all that trash was n't boiled in a brass kettle, and 
 is not rank poison ?" 
 
356 MACAEIA ; OR, 
 
 " Because I always use a porcelain kettle, sir. Here is a 
 glass ; try some of my ' trash/ I am determined to receive you . 
 * cordially.' " 
 
 " Take my advice, Queen, and never attempt another pun so 
 long as life and reason are spared to you. It is an execrable, 
 heathenish, uncivil practice, which should be tabooed in all well 
 regulated respectable families. As a class, your punsters are- a 
 desperate, vinegar-souled set. Old Samuel Johnson treated the 
 world to a remarkably correct estimate of the whole sorry tribe. 
 Just a half-glass more. You have spilled a drop on your im- 
 maculate apron. Well, your pun and your cordial are about on 
 a par ; not exactly either — for one has too much spice, and the 
 other none at all." 
 
 *' Well, then, Fadladeen, I will reconsider, and send the box 
 to a Kichraond hospital." 
 
 " No ; give it to me. The poor fellows who are to use it 
 may not be so fastidious. How much longer do you intend to 
 sit here ? I did not come to make my visit to the pantry." 
 
 " I have finished, sir. Let me wash my hands, and I will 
 give you some lunch in the dining-room." 
 
 " No ; I lunched with the Israelites. Salome was brilliant as 
 a Brazilian fire-fly, and presented her banner quite gracefully. 
 Aubrey looked splendidly in his uniform ; was superbly happy in 
 his speech — ahvays is. Madam did the honors inimitably, and, 
 in fine— give me that fan on the table — everything was decided- 
 ly comme ilfaut. You were expected, and you ought to have 
 gone ; it looked spiteful to stay away. I should absolutely like 
 to see you subjected to 212*^ Fahrenheit, in order to mark the 
 result. Here I am almost suffocating with the heat, which 
 would be respectable in Soudan, and you sit there bolt upright, 
 looking as cool as a west wind in March. Beauty, you should 
 get yourself patented as a social refrigerator, * Warranted proof 
 against the dog-days.' What rigmarole do you want me to re- 
 peat to Leonard ?" 
 
 " I have sent a parcel and a letter to your buggy. Please 
 hand them to father, and tell him that I am well." 
 
 " And what is to become of my conscience in the meantime ?" 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 357 
 
 " Doctor, I might answer in the words of Raphael to the Pre- 
 fect of Alexandria : ' What will become of it in any case, my 
 most excellent lord V " 
 
 " Humph, child I I am not such a reprobate, after all. But 
 I am thankful I am not as some pharisees I know." 
 
 She looked up in his harsh face to read its meaning. He lean- 
 ed forward, seized her hands, and said, hurriedly : 
 ' " Don't look so much like one of your own pigeons might, if 
 you had coaxed it to come to you, and then slapped it off. When 
 I say bitter things, you may be sure you are the last person in 
 my thoughts. Straighten that bent lip ; I did not allude to 
 you, my starry priestess. I meant all that noisy crew down 
 town, who — ." 
 
 " Let them rest ; neither you nor I have any interest in them. 
 I wish, if you please, when you get to Manassa, that you would 
 persuade father to allow me to come, at least, as far as Rich- 
 mond. You have some influence with him ; will you use it in 
 my favor V 
 
 " You are better off at home ; you could possibly do no 
 good." 
 
 " Still I want to go. Remember, my father is all I have in 
 this world." 
 
 " And what have you elsewhere, Irene ?" 
 
 ** My mother, my Saviour, and my God." 
 
 *' Are you, then, so very anxious to go to Virginia ?" he re- 
 peated aftei* a pause. 
 
 " I am. I want to be near father." 
 
 " Well, I will see what I can do with him. If I fail, recol- 
 lect that he is not proverbial for pliability. Look here are 
 
 you nervous ? Your fingers twitch, and so do your eyelids oc- 
 casionally, and your pulse is twenty beats too quick." 
 
 " I believe I am rather nervous to-day." 
 
 "Why so?" 
 
 " I did not sleep last night ; that is one cause, I suppose." 
 
 " And the reason why you did not sleep ? Be honest with 
 me." 
 
358 MAC ARIA ; OR, 
 
 " My thoughts, sir, were very painful. Do you wonder at it, 
 in the present state of the country ?" 
 
 " Irene, answer me one question, dear child : what does tlie 
 future contain for you ? What hope have you ? — what do you 
 live for ?" 
 
 " I have much to be grateful for — much that makes me happy; 
 and I hope to do some good in the world while I live. I want 
 to be useful — to feel that I have gladdened some hearflP" 
 strengthened some desponding spirits, carried balm to some 
 hearth-stones, shed some happiness on the paths of those who 
 walk near me through life. There are seasons when I regret my 
 incapacity to accomplish more ; but at such times, when dis- 
 posed to lament the limited sphere of woman's influence, I am 
 reminded of Pascal's grand definition : ' A sphere of which the 
 centre is everywhere, the circumference nowhere ;' and I feel 
 encouraged to hope that, after all, woman's circle of action will 
 prove as sublime and extended. Doctor, remember : 
 
 " ' . . No stream from its source 
 Flows seavrard, how lonely soever its course, 
 But wliat some land is gladdened. No star ever rose 
 And set without influence somewhere. Who knows 
 What earth needs from earth's lowest creature ? Xo life 
 Can be pure in its purpose and strong in its strife, 
 And all life not be purer and stronger thereby.' " 
 
 *' But who pointed your aims, and taught you these theories ?" 
 " The emptiness of my former life — the insatiable yearnings 
 for soUd, unalloyed happiness. I enjoy society, and cling to 
 many social ties ; but these alone could not content me. I 
 love the world better, for striving to be of some little use to it, 
 and I should be pained to have anybody believe that I have 
 grown misanthropic or cynical, simply because I sometimes tire 
 of a round of gaiety, and endeavor to employ my time usefully, 
 and for the benefit of my race. I felt the pressure of the iron 
 signet which the Creator set to his high commissions for life-long 
 human labor, and, breaking the spell of inertia that bound me, 
 I have, in part, my reward. 
 
 "'.... Get leave to woi'k 
 
 In this world, 't is the best you get at all ; 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 359 
 
 For God, in cursing, gives us better gifts 
 
 Than men in benediction. God says ' sweat 
 
 For foreheads ;' men say ' crowns :' and so we are crowned, 
 
 Ay, gashed by some tormenting circle of steel 
 
 Which snaps with a secret spring. Get work ; get work ; 
 
 Be sure 't is better than what you work to get.' 
 
 God knows we do little enough for each other in this whirl of 
 selfishness and grasping after gain," 
 
 " Have you, then, fully resolved to remain single ?" 
 
 " Why do you ask me that, Dr. Arnold ?" 
 
 " Because you are dear to me, Queen ; and I should like to 
 see you happily married before I am laid in my grave." 
 
 " You will never see it. Be sure I shall live and die Irene 
 Huntingdon." 
 
 " What has induced you to doom yourself to a ." 
 
 " Ask me no more, Doctor. If I am content with my lot, who 
 else has the right to question ?" 
 
 He looked into that fair chiselled face, and wondered whether 
 she could be truly " content ;" and the purity and peace in her 
 deep, calm eyes baffled him sorely. She rose, and laid her hand 
 on his shoulder. 
 
 "Dr. Arnold, promise me that, if there is a battle, and father 
 should be hurt, you will telegraph me at once. Do not hesitate 
 — let me know the truth immediately. Will you ?" 
 
 " I promise." 
 
 " And now, sir, what can I make or have made for you, which 
 will conduce to your comfort ?" 
 
 " Have you any old linen left about the house, that could be 
 useful among the wounded ?" 
 
 "I have sent oflf a good deal, but have some left. In what 
 form do you want it ? As lint, or bandages ?" 
 
 " Neither ; pack it just as it is, and send it on by express. I 
 can't carry the world on my shoulders." 
 
 " Anything else ?" 
 
 " Write to the overseer's wife to sow all the mustard-seed she 
 can lay her hands on, and save all the sage she can. And, 
 Irene, be sure to send me every drop of honey you can spare. 
 That is all, I believe. If I think of anything else, I will write you." 
 
360 MACARIA ; OR, 
 
 " Will you take Cyrus with you ?" 
 
 " Of course. What guarantee have I that some villainous 
 stray shell or shot may not ricochet, and shave my head off? 
 I shall take him along to drag me off the field, in any such 
 emergency ; for if I am not a Christian myself, I want to be 
 buried by Christian people — not by those puritanical golden-calf 
 worshipers, of ' higher-law ' notoriety." 
 
 " I trust that, in the exercise of your professional duties, you 
 will be in no danger. Surgeons are rarely hurt, I believe." 
 
 " Kot so sure of that. Spherical-case or grape-shot have very 
 little respect for scientific proficiency or venerable old age. One 
 thing is certain, however — if anything happens to me, Cyrus 
 will bring me home ; and I want a ciuiet place near your lot in 
 the cemetery, where your hands, Queen, will sometimes be about 
 my grave. Ah, child 1 I have lived a lonely, savage sort of 
 tife, and spent little love on the world, or the people about me. 
 I have had neither wife, nor children, nor sister in my home, to 
 humanize me ; but you have always had a large share of my 
 heart, and even Leonard can hardly love you better than I do. 
 Think of me sometimes. Queen, and write to me freely. 'No eyes 
 but mine will ever see your letters." 
 
 He stood with his hands on her shoulders, speaking falter- 
 ingly ; and, unable to reply immediately, she turned her lips to 
 the large brawny hand which had caressed her for twenty-five 
 years. 
 
 Making a great effort, she said, pleadingly : 
 
 " Dr. Arnold, when I pray for father, I always include you in 
 my petitions. Do you never intend to pray for yourself ?" 
 
 " I should not know how to begin now, my child." 
 
 " Words always come with will. Postpone it no longer. Oh, 
 Doctor ! I beg of you to begin at once." 
 
 Her lashes were heavy with unshed tears, as she looked up in 
 his face. 
 
 " I have faith in your prayers. Queen, but not in my own. 
 Pray for me always, dear child. God bless you ! my comfort, 
 my light, in a dark, troubled world of sin." 
 
 He stooped, kissed her forehead, and hurried out to his buggy. 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 361 
 
 She could not realize that he would be exposed to such immi- 
 nent danger as many others — and, having concluded her packing 
 and despatched the box to the depot, she wrote a few lines to a 
 well known bookseller, and sent Andrew to the store. An hour 
 after he returned, bringing a package of small, but elegantly 
 bound Bibles, From among the number she selected one of beau- 
 tiful clear type, and taking it to her room, locked herself iu to 
 escape all intrusion. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 The summer day was near its death when Col. Aubrey rode 
 up the stately avenue, whose cool green arches were slowly fill- 
 ing with shadows. Fastening his spirited horse to the iron post, 
 he ascended the marble steps, and John received his card, and 
 ushered him into the front parlor. The rich lace curtains were 
 caught back from the wide windows to admit the air, and the 
 whole room was flooded with subtle intoxicating perfume, from 
 numerous elegant vases of rare flowers, which crowned mantle, 
 etagercj and centre-table. On a small 'papier-mache stand 
 drawn before one of the windows stood an exquisite cut-glass 
 bowl, fringed at the edge with geranium leaves, and filled with 
 perfect golden-hearted water-lilies, whose snowy petals spread 
 themselves regally, breathing incense. The proud and moody 
 visitor regarded them a moment, then his piercing eye ran around 
 the room, and rested upon a large oval picture on the opposite 
 wall. This portrait of Irene had been painted soon after she left 
 school, and represented only the face and bust rising out of a 
 luminous purplish mist — a face which might have served for 
 Guido's Aurora. Clad in the handsome glittering uniform, which 
 showed his nobly-proportioned and powerful figure so advantage- 
 ously, the officer stood, hat in hand, the long sable plume droop- 
 ing toward the floor ; and, as he scanned the portrait, his lips 
 moved, and these words crept inaudibly, mutteringly, over them : 
 
362 MACARIA ; OR, 
 
 " Behold her there, 
 As I beheld her ere she knew m}' heart ; 
 My first, last love ; the idol of my youth, 
 The darling of my manhood, and, alas ! 
 Now the most blessed memory of mine age.'' 
 
 The frown on his face deepened almost to a scowl, indescribably 
 Btern ; he turned abruptly away, and looked through the open 
 window out upon the lawn, where flashes of sunshine and dusky 
 shadows struggled for mastery. Tlie next moment Irene stood 
 at the door ; he turned his head, and they were face to face once 
 more. ^ 
 
 Her dress was of Swiss muslin, revealing her dazzling shoul- 
 ders and every dimple and curve of her arms. The glittering 
 bronze hair was looped and fastened with blue ribbons, and from 
 the heavy folds her favorite clematis bells hung quivering with 
 every motion, and matching, in depth of hue, the violets that 
 clustered on her bosom. The crystal calmness of the counten- 
 ance was broken at last ; a new strange light brimmed the un- 
 fathomable eyes, and broke in radiant ripples round the match- 
 less mouth. On the white brow, with its marble-like gleam, 
 *' pure lilies of eternal peace " seemed resting, as 
 
 " She looked down on him from the whole 
 Lonely length of a life. There were sad nights and days, 
 There were long months and years, in that heart-searching gaze." 
 
 Xever had her extraordinary beauty so stirred his heart ; a 
 famt flush tinged his cheek, but he bowed frigidly, and haughtily 
 his words broke the silence. 
 
 *' You sent for me. Miss Huntingdon, and I obeyed your com- 
 mand. Kothiug less would have brought me to your presence." 
 
 She crossed the room and stood before him, holding out both 
 hands, while her scarlet lips fluttered perceptibly. Instead of 
 receiving the hands he drew back a step, and crossed his arms 
 proudly over his chest. She raised her fascinating eyes to his, 
 folded her palms together, and, pressing them to her heart, said, 
 slowly and distinctly : 
 
 " I heard that you were ordered to Virginia, to the post of 
 danger ; and knowing to what risks you will be exposed, I wish- 
 
ALTAKS OF SACRIFICE. 363 
 
 ed to see you at least once more in this world. Perhaps the 
 step I am taking may be condemned by some as a deviation from 
 the delicacy of my sex — I trust I am not wanting in proper ap- 
 preciation of what is due to my own self-respect — but the feel- 
 ings which I have crushed back so long, now demand utterance, 
 llussell, I have determined to break the seal of many years si- 
 lence — to roll away the stone from the sepulchre — to tell you all. 
 I feel that you and I must understand each other before we part 
 for all time, and, therefore, I sent for you." 
 
 She paused, drooping her head, unable to meet his searching 
 steady black eyes riveted upon hers ; and, drawing his tall ath- 
 letic figure to its utmost height, he asked, defiantly : 
 
 *' You sent for me through compassionate compunctions, then 
 — intending, at the close, to be magnanimous, and, in lieu of dis- 
 dain, tell me that you j^ity me ?" 
 
 " Pity you ? No, Russell ; I do not pity you." 
 
 " It is well. I neither deserve nor desire it." 
 
 " What motive do you suppose prompted me to send for you 
 on the eve of your departure I" 
 
 " I am utterly at a loss to conjecture. I once thought you too 
 generous to wish to inflict pain unnecessarily on any one ; but 
 God knows this interview is inexpressibly painful to me." 
 
 A numbing suspicion crossed her mind, blanching lip and cheek 
 to the hue of death, and hardening her into the old statue-like 
 expression. Had he, indeed, ceased to love her ? Had Salome 
 finally won her place in his heart ? He saw, without compre- 
 hending, the instantaneous change which swept over her features, 
 and regarded her with mingled impatience and perplexity. 
 
 " If such be the truth. Col. Aubrey, the interview is ended." 
 
 He bowed, and turned partially away, but paused irresolute, 
 chained by that electrical pale face, which no man, woman, or 
 child ever looked at without emotion. 
 
 " Before we part, probably for ever, I should like to know 
 why you sent for me." 
 
 " Do you remember that, one year ago to-night, we sat on the 
 steps of the Factory, and you told me of the feeling you had 
 cherished for me from your boyhood ?" 
 
364: 1LA.CARIA ; OR, 
 
 " It was a meeting too fraught with paiu and mortification to 
 
 be soon forgotten." 
 
 " I believe you thought me cold, heartless, and unfeeling then ?" 
 
 " There was no room to doubt it. Your haughty coldness car- 
 ried its own interpretation." 
 
 " Because I knew that such was the harsh opinion you had en- 
 tertained for twelve months, I sought this opportunity to relieve 
 myself of an unjust imputation. If peace had been preserved, 
 and you had always remained quietly here, I should never have 
 undeceived you— for the same imperative reasons, the same stern 
 necessity, which kept me silent on the night to which I allude, 
 would have sealed my lips through life. But all things are 
 changed ; you are going into the very jaws of death, with what 
 result no human foresight can predict ; and now, after long suf- 
 fering, I feel that I have earned and may claim the right to 
 speak'to you of that which I have always expected to bury with 
 me in my grave." 
 
 Again her crowned head bowed itself; 
 
 Past bitterness and wounded pride were instantly forgotten ; 
 hope kindled in his dark, stern face a beauty that rarely dwelt 
 there, and, throwing down his hat, he stepped forward and took 
 her folded hands in his strong grasp. 
 
 " Irene, do you intend me to understand — are you willing that 
 I shall beUeve that, after all, I have an interest in your heart- 
 that I am more to you than you ever before deigned to let me 
 know ? If it, indeed, be so, oh ! give me the unmistakable as- 
 surance." 
 
 Her lips moved ; he stooped his haughty head to catch the 
 
 low, fluttering words. 
 
 " You said that night : ' I could forgive your father all ! all I 
 if I knew that he had not so successfully hardened, closed your 
 heart against me.' Forgive him, Russell. You never can know all 
 that yo°u have been to me from my childhood. Only God, who 
 sees my heart, knows what suffering our long alienation has cost 
 
 me." 
 
 An instant he wavered, his strong frame quivered, and then 
 he caught her exultingly in his arms, resting her head upon his 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 365 
 
 bosom, leaninj^ his swarthy hot cheek on hers, cold and transpa- 
 rent as ahibaster. 
 
 " At hist I reahze tlie one dream of my life I I hold you to 
 my heart, acknowlodg-ed all my own 1 Who shall dare dispute 
 the right your lips have given me ? Hatred is powerless now ; 
 none shall come between me and my own. Oh, Irene 1 my beau- 
 tiful darling I not all my ambitious hopes, i^t all the future 
 holds, not time, nor eternity, could purchase the proud, inexpres- 
 sible joy of this assurance. I have toiled and struggled, I have 
 suffered in silence ; I have triumped and risen in a world that 
 sometimes stung my fiery heart almost to madness ; and I have 
 exulted, I have gloried, in my hard-earned success. But ambi- 
 tion dims, and my laurels wither, in comparison with the pre- 
 cious, priceless consciousness of your love. I said ambition shall 
 content mc — sliall usurp the pedestal where, long ago, I lifted a 
 fair girlish image ; but tlie old worship followed, haunted me 
 continually. I looked up from MS. speeches to find your incom- 
 parable magnetic eyes before me ; and now, in the midst of bit- 
 terness nnd loneliness, I have my great reward. God bless you, 
 Irene !' for this one hour of perfect happiness in a cold and joy- 
 less life. If, when disappointed and baffled by your habitual po- 
 lished reserve, I have said or done harsh, unjust things, which 
 wounded you, forgive me — remembering only my love, and my 
 torturing dread that you would become Bainbridge's wife. Oh ! 
 that was the most horrible apprehension that ever possessed 
 me." 
 
 " Instead of cherishing your affection for me, you struggled 
 against it with all the energy of your character. I have seen, 
 for some time, that you were striving to crush it out — to forget 
 me entirely." 
 
 " I do not deny it ; and certainly you ought not to blame 
 me. You kept me at a distance with your chilling, yet graceful, 
 fascinating hauteur. I had nothing to hope — everything to suf- 
 fer. I diligently set to work to expel you utterly from my 
 thoughts ; and, I tell you candidly, I endeavored to love another, 
 who was brilliant, and witty, and universally admired. But her 
 fitful, stormy, exacting temperament was too much like my own 
 
366 MACAEIA ; OR, 
 
 to suit me. I tried faithfully to become attached to her, iutend- 
 ing to make her my wife, but I failed signally. My heart clung 
 stubboruly to its old worship ; my restless, fiery spirit could find 
 no repose, no happiness, save iu the purity, the profound, marvel- 
 lous calm of your nature. You became the synonyme of peace, 
 rest ; and, because you gave me no friendly word or glance, lock- 
 ing your passionless face against me, I grew savage toward you. 
 Did you believe thijt I would marry Salome ?" 
 
 " No ! I had faith that, despite your angry efforts, your 
 heart would be true to me." 
 
 ** Why did you inflict so much pain on us both, when a word 
 would have explained all ? When the assurance you have given 
 me to-day would have sweetened the past years of trial ?" 
 
 " Because I knew it would not have that effect. I am consti- 
 tutionally more patient tlian you, and yet, with all my efforts to 
 be resigned to what could not be remedied, and to bear my sor- 
 row with fortitude, I found myself disposed to repine ; and, be- 
 cause I was so sure of your affection to — 
 
 " ' Crj to the winds, oh, God ! it might have been.' 
 
 A belief of my indifference steeled you against me — nerved you 
 to endurance. But a knowledge of the truth would have in- 
 creased your acrimony of feeling toward him whom you regarded 
 as the chief obstacle, and this, at all hazards, I was resolved to 
 avoid. Russell, I knew that our relations could never be chang-^ 
 ed ; that the barriers, for which neither you nor I are responsi- 
 ble in any degree, were insurmountable ; and that, in this world, 
 we must walk widely-diverging patiis, exchanging few words of 
 sympathy. Because I realized so fully the necessity of estrange- 
 ment, I should never have acquainted you with my own feelings, 
 had I not known that a long, and perhaps final, separation now 
 stretches before us. In the painful course which duty imposed on 
 me, I have striven to promote your ultunate happiness, rather 
 than my own." 
 
 " Irene, how can you persuade yourself that it is your duty to 
 obey an unjust and tyrannical decree, which sacrifices the happi- 
 ness of two to the unreasonable viudictiveaess of one ?" 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 867 
 
 " Rcmomber that you arc speaking of my fatljor, and do not 
 make me reji:ret that I have seen yon in liis house." 
 
 '* You must not expect of me more forl)earance tlian my na- 
 ture is capable of. I have lost too much through his injustice 
 to bear my injuries coolly. I was never a meek man, and strife 
 and trial have not sweetened my temper. If you love me, and 
 the belief is too precious to me to be questioned now, I hold it 
 your duty to me and to your own heart to give yourself to me, 
 to gild our future with the happiness of which the past has been 
 cheated. Your father has no right to bind your life a sacrifice 
 u|)on the altar of his implacable hate ; nor have you a right to 
 doom yourself and me to life-long sorrow, because of an ancient 
 feud, which neither of us had any agency in effecting." 
 
 " Duty, because inflexible and involving great pain, is not 
 therefore less imperative. Russell, have you forgotten Chelo- 
 nis ?" 
 
 lie tightened his clasping arms, and exclaimed : 
 
 " Ah, Irene I I would willingly go into exile, with you for my 
 Chelonis. Perish ambition 1 live only such a future. But yon 
 remember nothing but Chelonis' filial obligations, forgetting all 
 she owed, and all she nobly gave, Cleombrotus. If you would 
 lay your hands in mine, and give me his right, oh I what glory 
 would crown the coming years ! Irene, before it is too late, 
 have mercy on us both." 
 
 She lifted her head from his shoulder, and looked up pleadingly 
 in his flushed, eager face. 
 
 ** Russell, do not urge me ; it is useless. Sparc me the pain 
 of repeated refusals, and be satisfied with what I have given you. 
 Believe that my heart is, and ever will be, yours entirely, though 
 my hand you can never claim. I know what I owe my father, 
 and I will pay to the last iota ; and I know as well what I owe 
 myself, and, therefore, I shall live true to my first and only love, 
 and die Irene Huntingdon. More than this you have no right 
 to ask — I no right to grant. Be patient, Russell ; be gener- 
 ous." 
 
 " Patient ! patient ! I am but human." 
 
 " Rise above the human ; remember that, at best, life is short, 
 
368 magaria; ok, 
 
 and that after a little while eternity will stretch its holy circles 
 before our feet. Such is my hope. I look down the lonely, si- 
 lent vista of my coming years, whose niches are filled, not with 
 joy, but quiet resignation — and I see beyond the calm shores of 
 Rest, where, if faithful here, you and I may clasp hands for ever 1 
 To me this is no dim, shadowy, occasional comfort, but a fixed, 
 firm, priceless trust." 
 
 She felt the deep, rapid throbbing of his heart, as he held her 
 to his bosom ; and a dark cloud of sorrow settled on his features, 
 while he listened to her low, sweet, steady voice. He kissed her 
 twice, and said, huskily : 
 
 " Do you intend to send me from you ? To meet me hence- 
 forth as a stranger ?" 
 
 " Circumstances, which I can not control, make it necessary." 
 
 " At least you will let me hear from you sometimes ? You 
 will give me the privilege of writing to you ?" 
 
 " Impossible, Russell ; do not ask that of me." 
 
 " Oh, Irene 1 you are cruel ! Why withhold that melancholy 
 comfort from me ?" 
 
 " Simply for the reason that it would unavoidably prove a 
 source of pain to both. I judge you by myself. A correspond- 
 ence would keep your mind constantly harassed on a subject 
 which time will inevitably soften, mellow ; and the expectation 
 of letters from you would induce a feverish excitement and impa- 
 tience in my own heart, which I wish to escape. It would foe^l 
 useless regrets, and be productive only of harm. I want neither 
 your usefulness in life nor mine impaired by continual weak re- 
 pining. If I can patiently bear a great sea of silence between 
 ns henceforth, you certainly should be stronger ; should appreci- 
 ate my motives, without suspecting any diminution of affection 
 on my part. If your life is spared I shall anxiously watch your 
 career, rejoicing in all your honors, and your noble use of the tal- 
 ents which God gave you for the benefit of your race and the 
 advancement of truth. Xo matter how the world may deride, 
 or cynics sneer at the supposition, I tell you solemnly, absence 
 h.is no power over a true woman's heart. Her affection will tri- 
 umph over separation, over silence, over death ! over everything 
 
ATTARS OF SACRIFICE. 369 
 
 but loss of confidence ; over all but discovered unworthiness in 
 its object. It cau bid defiance to obstacles, to adverse fate, so 
 long as trust remains intact, and resj^ect is possible j that you 
 will ever forfeit either, I entertain no fear." 
 
 " I am not as noble as you think me ; my ambition is not as 
 unselfish as yon suppose. Under your influence, other aims and 
 motives might possess me." 
 
 " You mistake your nature. Your intellect and temperament 
 stamp you one of the few who receive little impression from ex- 
 traneous influences ; and it is because of this stern obstinate 
 individuality of character, that I hope an extended sphere of 
 usefulness for you, if you survive this war. Our country will de- 
 mand your services, and I shall be proud and happy in the knowl- 
 edge that you are faithfully and conscientiously discharging the 
 duties of a statesman." 
 
 " Ah I but the wages are hollow. My ambition has already 
 been gratified to some extent, and in the very flush of triumph I 
 sat down to eat its fruit, and smiled grimly over its dust and 
 ashes." 
 
 " Because self-aggrandizement was then the sole aim. But a 
 holier, a mo»c disinterested, unselfish ambition to serve only 
 God, Truth, and Country, will insure a blessed consciousness of 
 well-spent years and consecrated talents, comforting beyond all 
 else that earth can give." 
 
 He shook his head sadly ; placing his palm under her chin, 
 and tenderly raising the face, in order to scan it fully. 
 
 " Irene, oblige me in what may seem a trifle ; unfasten your 
 hair and let it fall around you, as I have seen it once or twice in 
 your life." 
 
 She took out her comb, untied the ribbons, and, passing her 
 fingers tlirough the bands, shook them down till they touched the 
 floor. 
 
 He passed his hand carelessly over the glossy waves, and 
 smiled proudly, 
 
 " How ofteu I have longed to lay my fingers on these rippling 
 folds, as they flashed around you so, or were coiled into a crown 
 about your head. With what glory they invest you I Your 
 
 IG* 
 
370 HACARIA ; OR, 
 
 picture there upon the wall seems L'ghted with the golden gleam. 
 Irene, give me a likeness of yourself as you stand now, or if you 
 » prefer it, have a smaller one photographed to-morrow from that 
 portrait, and send it to me by express. I shall be detained in 
 Richmond several days, and it will reach me safely. Do not, I 
 beg of you, refuse me this. It is the only consolation I can have, 
 and God knows it is little enough ! Oh, Irene ! think of my 
 loneliness, and grant this last request." 
 
 His large briUiant eyes were full of tears, the first she had ever 
 seen dim their light ; and, moved by the grief which so transformed 
 his lineaments, she answered, hastily : 
 
 " Of course, if you desire it so earnestly, though it were much 
 better that you had nothing to remind you of me." 
 
 " Will you have it taken to-morrow." 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 She covered her face with her hands for some seconds, as if 
 striving to overcome some impulse ; then, turning quickly to him, 
 she wound her arms about his neck, and drew his face down to 
 hers. 
 
 " Oh, Russell ! Russell ! I want your promise that you will so 
 live and govern yourself that, if your soul is summoned from the 
 battle-field, you can confront Eternity without a single appre- 
 hension. If you must yield up your life for freedom, I want the 
 assurance that you have gone to your final home at peace with 
 God ; that you wait there for me ; and that, when my work is 
 done, and I, too, lay my weary head to rest, we shall meet soul 
 to soul, and spend a blessed eternity together, where strife and 
 separation are unknown. In the realization of your ambitious 
 dreams, I know that you have given no thought to these things ; 
 and it was chiefly my anxiety to impress upon you their import- 
 ance, their vital necessity, which induced me to send for you. 
 Your hard, bitter heart must be softened ; you must try to over- 
 come your vindictiveness ; to cherish more charity and forgiveness 
 toward some who have thwarted you. Sometimes, in watching 
 your gloomy, stern face, I have almost despaired that you would 
 ever feel otherwise; and many a night I have prayed fervently 
 that you might be influenced to make some preparation for futu- 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 871 
 
 rlty. Ob, Rnssell I I can be bravo, and stronp^, and patient ; I 
 can bear to see your dear face no more in this world ; I can give 
 you up to our country, and not murmur that you died defending 
 l»er liberties — if I have the conviction that, in that noble death, 
 you found the gate of heaven— that I shall meet you again whea 
 my God calls me home. Think of this when you leave me for the 
 temptations of camp-life, and go forth to scenes of strife and 
 horror. Think of it by day and night, striving to subdue your 
 heart in accordance with the precepts of Christ ; to exert a 
 restraining, purifying influence over your command ; and remem- 
 ber, oh, remember, Russell I that this is the only hope I have to 
 cheer me. Will you promise to read the Bible I give you now — 
 to pray constantly for yourself ? Will you promise to meet me 
 beyond the grave ?" 
 
 His black locks lay upon her forehead as he struggled for 
 composure, and, after a moment, he answered, solemnly : 
 
 " I will try, my darling." 
 
 She put into his hand the Bible, which she had carefully 
 marked, and which bore on the blank leaf, in her handwriting : 
 " Colonel Russell Aubrey, with the life-long prayers of his best 
 
 friend." 
 
 The shadow fled from her countenance, which grew radiant as 
 some fleecy vapor suddenly smitten with a blaze of sunlight, and 
 clearer and sweeter than chiming bells her voice rang through 
 
 the room. 
 
 " Thank God ! for that promise. I shall lean my heart upon 
 it till the last pulsations are stilled in my coffin. And now 
 I will keep you no longer from your regiment. I know that 
 you have many dtiities there to claim your time. Turn your face 
 toward the window ; I want to loolf at it, to be able to keep its 
 expression always before me." 
 
 She put up her waxen hand, brushed the hair from his pale, 
 dome-like brow, and gazed earnestly at the noble features, which 
 even the most fastidious could find no cause to cai-p at. 
 
 " Of old, when Enrystheus threatened Athens, Macaria, in 
 order to save the city and the land from invasion and sub- 
 jugation, williugly devoted himself a sacrifice upon the altar of 
 
372 MACAKIA ; OR, 
 
 the gods. Ah, Russell ! that were an easy task, in comparison 
 with the offering I am called upon to make. I can not, like 
 Macaria, by self-immolation, redeem my country ; from that 
 great privilege I am debarred ; but I yield up more than she 
 ever possessed. I give my all on earth — my father and your- 
 self — to our beloved and suffering country. My God I accept 
 the sacrifice, and cro^Ti the South a sovereign, independent 
 nation ! Gladly, unshrinkingly, would I meet a death so sublime ; 
 but to survive the loss of those dearer far than my life, to live 
 and endure such desolation — oh ! my lot, and that of thousands 
 of my country-women, is infinitely more bitter than the fate of 
 Macaria 1" 
 
 She smothered a moan, and her head sank on his shoulder ; 
 but lifting it instantly, with her fathomless affection beaming in 
 her face, she added : 
 
 " To the mercy and guidance of Almighty God I commit you, 
 dear Russell — trusting all things in His hands. May He shield 
 you from suffering, strengthen you in the hour of trial, and re- 
 unite us eternally in his kingdom, is, and ever shall be, my con- 
 stant prayer. Good-by, Russell ! Do your duty nobly ; win 
 deathless glory on the battle-field, in defence of our sacred cause ; 
 and remember that your laurels will be very precious to my 
 lonely heart." 
 
 He folded her in his arms, and kissed her repeatedly ; but, 
 disengaging herself, she put him gently aside ; and, snatching up 
 his hat, he left the room. He reached his horse, then paused, 
 and returned to the parlor. 
 
 The sun had set, but waves of rich orange light rolled through 
 the window, and broke over the white figure kneeling there, 
 half-veiled by curling hair. The clasped hands were uplifted, 
 and the colorless face was thrown back in silent supplication. 
 He watched the wonderful loveliness of face and form, till his 
 pride was utterly melted, and, sinking on his knees, he threw 
 one arm around her waist, exclaiming : 
 
 " Oh, Irene ! you have conquered ! "With God's grace I will 
 so spend the residue of my life as to merit your love, and the 
 hope of reunion beyond the gi-ave." 
 
ALTAIJS OF SACRIFICE. 373 
 
 She laid her hand liglitly on his bowed head as he knelt be- 
 side her, and, in a voice that knew no faltering, breathed out a 
 fervent prayer, full of pathos and sublime faith— invoking bless- 
 ings upon him — life-long guardianship, and final salvation 
 through Christ. The petition ended, she rose, smiling through 
 the mist that gathered over her eyes, and he said : 
 
 " I came back to ask something which I feel that you will not 
 refuse me. Electra will probably soon come home, and she may 
 be left alone in the world. Will you sometimes go to her for 
 my sake, and give her your friendship ?" 
 
 " I will, Russell, for her sake, as well as for yours. She shall 
 be the only sister I have ever known." 
 
 She drew his hand to her lips, but he caught it away, and 
 pressed a last kiss upon them. 
 
 " Good-by, my own darling ! my life angel !" 
 
 She heard his step across the hall ; a moment after, the tramp 
 of his horse, as he galloped down the avenue, and she knew that 
 the one happy hour of her life had passed— that the rent sepulchre 
 of silence must be resealed. 
 
 Pressino- her hand over her desolate heart, she murmured sadly : 
 
 " Thy will, not mine, oh, Father ! Give me strength to do 
 my work ; enable me to be faithful even to the bitter end." 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 Strange heroic parallelisms startle the grave, reflecting student 
 of history, and propound the inquiry : Is the Buckle theory of 
 immutable cycles correct ? Is the throbbing, surging world of 
 human emotions and passions but a mere arithmetical problem, 
 to be solved through the erudition and astuteness of Quetelet or 
 Ilassel, by an infalHble statistical rule-of-three ? Has the relent- 
 less Necessity of C©mte erected its huge mill on this continent, 
 to grimly grind out the annual quantity of patriotism, tyranny, 
 noble self-abnegation, or Machiavelism, in the prescribed invari- 
 
374 macaria; or, 
 
 able ratio of " Sociology ?" Is it that times make men and 
 women, through dire necessity of iiidiTiclual or national salvation, 
 or will it be urged that sublime records of the past fire the soul 
 to emulation and duplication of ancient heroism ? Davus sum 
 non (Edipus. In 1781, when compelled to raise the siege of 
 Kinety-Six, it became very important that General Greene should 
 communicate with Sumter. The intervening country was, how- 
 ever, so filled with British and Tories, and such dangers attended 
 the mission, that no one could be found willmg to undertake it. 
 In this emergency, when even our patriots of the first Revolution 
 shrank back, Emily Geiger, only eighteen years of age, volun- 
 teered to make the hazardous attempt, and received from General 
 Gi*eene a letter, and verbal messages, which he was extremely 
 desirous should reach their destination. Mounting a swift horse, 
 she performed a portion of the journey in safety ; but was ulti- 
 mately arrested by two Tories, who suspected that she might 
 be rendering important, though clandestine, service to '' the 
 rebels." Swiftly and unobserved she swallowed the written des- 
 patch, and baffled in their expectation of finding suspicious docu- 
 ments they allowed her to proceed. Sumter's camp was safely 
 reached, the messages were deUvered, General Greene's army was 
 reinforced, and soon became strong enough to assume the offen- 
 sive. Rawdon was forced to retreat, and Greene subsequently 
 met and vanquished the British army at Eutaw Springs. Was 
 not Emily Geiger's slender womanly hand instrumental in pre- 
 paring for that battle, the results of which freed the Carolinas ? 
 In July, 1861, when the Xorth, blinded by avarice and hate, 
 rang with the cry of " On to Richmond," our Confederate Army 
 of the Potomac was divided between Manassa and Winchester, 
 watching at both points the glittering coils of the Union boa- 
 constrictor, which writhed in its efforts to crush the last sanctuary 
 of freedom. The stringency evinced along the Federal lines pre- 
 vented the transmission of despatches by the Secessionists of 
 Maryland, and for a time Generals Beauregard and Johnston 
 were kept in ignorance of the movements of the enemy. Patter- 
 son hung dark and lowering around Winchester, threatening 
 daily descent ; while the main column of the grand army under 
 
ALTAKS OF SACRIFICR. 375 
 
 McDowell proceeded from Wasliington, confident in the expec- 
 tation of overNvlicIming the small army .stationed at Manassa. 
 The friends of hbcrty who were compelled to remain in the dese- 
 crated old capital appreciated the urgent necessity of acquainting 
 General Beauregard with the designs of McDowell, and the arch- 
 apostate, Scott ; but all channels of egress seemed sealed ; all roads 
 leading across the Potomac were vigilantly guarded, to keep the 
 great secret safely ; and painful apprehensions were indulged for 
 the fate of the Confederate army. But the Promethian° spark 
 of patriotic devotion burned in the hearts of Secession women ; 
 and, resolved to dare all things in a canse so holy, a young lady 
 of Washington, strong in heroic faith, offered to encounter any 
 perils, and pledged her life to give General Beauregard the 
 necessary information; Carefully concealing a letter in°the twist 
 of her luxuriant hair, which would escape detection even should 
 • she be searched, she disguised herself effectually, and, under the 
 mask of a market-woman, drove a cart through Washington, 
 across the Potomac, and deceived the guard by selling vegetables 
 and milk as she proceeded. Once beyond Federal lines° and in 
 friendly neighborhood, it was but a few minutes work to" off ye 
 lendings," and secure a horse and riding-habit. With a courage 
 and rapidity which must ever command the admiration of a brave 
 people, she rode at hard gallop that burning July afternoon to 
 Fairfax Court-house, and telegraphed to General Beauregard, 
 then at Manassa's Junction, the intelligence, she had risked so 
 much to convey. Availing himself promptly of the facts, he 
 flashed them along electric wires to Richmond, and to Gen'cral 
 Johnston ; and thus, through womanly devotion, a timely junction 
 ofthetwoarmies was effected, ere McDowelFs banners flouted 
 the skies of Bull Run. 
 
 Carthagenian women gave their black locks to string their 
 country's bows, and furnish cordage for its shipping ; and the 
 glossy tresses of an American woman veiled a few myst'ic cii)iicrs 
 more potent in General Beauregard's hands than Talmudish 
 Shemhamphorash. 
 
 Her mission accomplished, the dauntless courier turned her 
 horse's head, and, doubtless, with an exulting, thankful heart 
 
376 MACAETA ; OR, 
 
 returned in triumph to Washington. Wlien our national jewels 
 are made up, will not a grateful and admiring country set her 
 name between those of Beauregard and Johnston in the revolu- 
 tionary diadem, and let the three blaze tlirough coming ages, 
 baffling the mists of time — the Constellation of ]\Ianassa ? The 
 artillery duel of the 18th of July ended disastrously for the ad- 
 vance guard of the Federals — a temporary check was given. 
 
 All things seemed in abeyance ; dun, sulphurous clouds of 
 smoke lifted themselves from the dewy copse that fringed Ball 
 Run, floating slowly to the distant purple crests of the Blue Ridge, 
 which gazed solemnly down on the wooded Coliseum, where gladia- 
 torial hosts were soon to pour out their blood in the hideous 
 orgies held by loathsome Fanaticism — guarded by Federal bayo- 
 nets, and canopied by the Stars and Stripes. During the silent 
 watches of Saturday night — 
 
 " Slowly comes a hungry people, as a lion creeping nigher. 
 Glares at one that nods and winks behind a slowly dying fire." 
 
 A pure Sabbath morning kindled on the distant hill-tops, 
 wearing heavenly credentials of rest and sanctity on its pearly 
 forehead — credentials which the passions of mankind could not 
 pause to recognize ; and with the golden glow of summer sun- 
 shine came the tramp of infantry, the clatter of cavalry, the sul- 
 len growl of artillery. Major Huntingdon had been temporarily 
 assigned to a regiment of infantry after leaving Richmond, and 
 was posted on the right of General Beauregard's lines, command- 
 ing one of the lower fords. Two miles higlier up the stream, in 
 a different brigade. Colonel Aubrey's regiment guarded another 
 of the numerous crossings. As the day advanced, and the continu- 
 al roar of cannon toward Stone-Bridge and Sudley's ford indicated 
 that the demonstrations on McLean's, Blackford's, and ^Mitchell's 
 fords, were mere feints to hold our right and centre, the truth 
 flashed on General Beauregard that the main column was hurled 
 against Evans' little band on the extreme left. Hour after hour 
 ]jasscd, and the thunder deepened on the Warrenton road ; then 
 the General learned, with unutterable chagrin, that his order for 
 an advance on Centreville had miscarried, that a brilliant plan 
 had been frustrated, and that new combinations and dispositions 
 
ALTAR8 OF SACRIFICE. 
 
 377 
 
 must now be resorted to. The regiment to which :Major ITunting- 
 don was attached was ordered to the support of the left wing, and 
 reached the distant position in an ahnost incredibly short time, 
 while two regiments of the brigade to which Colonel Aubrey be- 
 longed were sent forward to the same point as a reserve. 
 
 Like incarnations of victory, Beauregard and Johnston swept 
 to the front where the conflict was most deadly ; everywhere, at 
 sight of them, our thin ranks dashed forward, and were mowed 
 down by the fire of Rickett's and Griffin's batteries, which crown- 
 ed the position they were so eager to regain. At half-past two 
 o'clock the awful contest was at its height ; the rattle of musket- 
 ry, tlie ceaseless whistle of riQe balls, the deafening boom of 
 artillery, the hurtling hail of shot, the explosion of shell, dense 
 volumes'of smoke shrouding the combatants, and clouds of du^t 
 boiUng up on all sides, lent unutterable horror to a scene which, 
 to cold, dispassionate observers, might have seemed sublime. As 
 the vastly supt^^ior numbers of the Federals forced our stubborn 
 bands to give back slowly, an order came from General Beaure- 
 gard for the right of his line, except the reserves, to advance, 
 H and recover the longhand desperately-disputed plateau. With a 
 shout, the shattered lines sprang upon the foe and forced them 
 temporarily back. Major, Huntingdon's horse was shot under 
 him ; he disengaged himself .and marched on foot, waving his 
 sword and uttering words of en>:puragement. He had proceeded 
 but a few yards when a grape-shot entered his side, tearing its 
 way through his body, and he fell where the dead lay thickest. 
 For a time the enemy retired, but heavy reinforcements pressed in, 
 and they returned, reoccupying the old ground. Not a moment 
 was to be lost ; General Beauregard ordered forward his reserves 
 for a second effort, and with magnificent effect, led the charge 
 in person. Then Russell Aubrey first came actively upon the 
 field. At the word of command he dashed forward with his 
 splendid regiment, and, high above all, towered his powerful form, 
 with the long black plume of his hat drifting upon the wind as 
 he led his admiring men. 
 
 As he pressed on, with thin nostril dilated, and eyes that 
 burned like those of a tiger seizing his prey, he saw, just in his 
 
378 MACAETA ; OR, 
 
 patl), leaning on liis elbow, covered with blood and smeared with 
 dust, the crushed, withering form of his bitterest enemy. His 
 horse's hoofs were almost upon him ; he reined him back an in- 
 stant, and glared down at his old foe. It was only for an instant ; 
 and as Major Huntingdon looked on the stalwart figure and at 
 the advancing regiment, life-long hatred and jealousy were for- 
 gotten — patriotism throttled all the past in her grasp — he feebly 
 threw up his hand, cheered faintly, and, with his eyes on Russell's, 
 smiled grimly, saying, with evident difficulty : 
 
 " Beat them back, Aubrey I Give them the bayonet.'^ 
 The shock was awful — be2:2:arin2: lanfruaire. On, on they 
 swept, while ceaseless cheers mingled with the cannonade ; the 
 ground was recovered, to be captured no more. Tlie Federals 
 were driven back across the turnpike, and now dark masses 
 of reinforcements debouched on the plain, and marched toward 
 our left. Was it Grouchy or Blucher ? Some moments of pain- 
 ful siispense ensued, while General Beauregard strained his eyes 
 to decipher the advancing banner. Red and white and blue, cer- 
 tainly; but was it the ensign of Despotism or of Lj,V<?rty ? Nearer 
 and nearer came the rusliing column, and lo !,npon the breeze 
 streamed, triumj)hant as the Labarum of Const an tine, the Stars' 
 and Bars. Kirby Smith and Elzey — God be praised ! The 
 day was won, and Victory nestled proudly among the folds of 
 our new-born banner. One more cligj'ge along our whole line, 
 and the hireling hords of oppression fled, panic-stricken. Russell 
 had received a painful wound frcm a minnie ball, which entered 
 liis shoulder and ranged down toward the elbow, but he main- 
 tained his position, and led his regiment a mile in the pursuit. 
 When it became evident that the retreat was a complete rout, he 
 resigned the command to Lieutenant-Colonel Blackwell, and rode 
 back to the battle-field. Hideous was the spectacle presented — 
 dead and dying, friend and foe, huddled in indiscriminate ruin, 
 weltering in blood, and shivering in the agonies of dissolution ; 
 blackened headless trunks and fragments of limbs — ghastly 
 sights and sounds of woe, filling the scene of combat. Such 
 were the first fruits of the bigotry and fanatical hate of Xew 
 England, aided by the unprincipled demagogism of the West ; 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 379 
 
 such were llie wages of Abolitionism, gnitlecl by Tjineoln and 
 Seward — the hitter-day Sejanus ; such the results of " higher- 
 law," canting, puritanical hypocrisy. 
 
 Picking his way to avoid trampling the dead, Russell saw Major 
 Jluntingdoui at a little distance, trying to drag himself toward 
 a neighboring tree. The memory of his injuries crowded up — 
 the memory of all that: he had endured and lost through that 
 man's prejudice — the sorrow that might have been averted from 
 his blind mother — and his vindictive spirit rebelled at the 
 thought of rendering him aid. But as he paused and struggled 
 against his better nature, Irene's holy face, as he saw it last, 
 lifted in prayer for him, rose, angel-like, above all that mass of 
 death and horrors. The sufferer was Irene's father ; she was 
 hundreds of miles away; Russell set his lips firndy, and, riding 
 up to the prostrate figure, dismonnted. Exhausted by his 
 efforts. Major Huntingdon had fallen back in the dust, and an 
 expression of intolerable agony distorted his features as Russell 
 stooped over him, and asked in a voice meant to be gentle : 
 
 " Can I do anything for you ? Could you sit up, if I placed 
 you on my horse ?" 
 
 The wounded man scowled as he recognized the voice and face, 
 and turned his head partially away, muttering : 
 
 " What brought you here ?" 
 
 " There has never been any love between us, Major Hunting- 
 don ; but we are fighting in the same cause for the first time iu 
 our lives. You are badly wounded, and, as a fellow soldier, I 
 should be glad to relieve your suil'erings, if possible. Once more, 
 for humanity's sake, I ask, can you ride my horse to the rear, 
 if I assist jou to mount ?" 
 
 " No. But, for God's sake, give rae some water !" 
 
 Russell knelt, raised the head, and unbuckling his canteen, put 
 it to his lips, using his own wounded arm with some difdculty. 
 Half of the contents was eagerly swallowed, aiMl the remainder 
 Russell poured slowly on the gaping, gliastly wound in his side. 
 The proud man eyed him steadily till the last cool drop was ex- 
 hausted, and said, sullenly : 
 
 " You owe me no kindness, Aubrey. I hate you, and you 
 
380 MAC ARIA ; OR, 
 
 know it. But you have heaped coals of fire on my head. You 
 are more generous than I thought you. Thank you, Aubrey ; 
 lay me under that tree yonder, and let me die." 
 
 ** I will try to find a surgeon. Who belongs to your regi- 
 ment ?" 
 
 " Somebody whom I never saw till last week. I won't havo 
 Lira hacking about me. Leave me in peace." 
 
 " Do you know anything of your servant ? I saw him as I 
 came on the field." 
 
 " Poor William ! he followed me so closely that he was shot 
 through the head. He is lying three hundred yards to the left, 
 yonder. Poor fellow ! he was faithful to the last." 
 
 A tear dimmed the master's eagle eye as he muttered, rather 
 than spoke, these words. 
 
 " Then I will find Dt. Arnold at once, and send him to you." 
 
 It was no easy matter, on that crowded, confused Aceldama, 
 aad the afternoon was well nigh spent before Russell, faint and 
 weary, descried Dr. Arnold busily using his instruments in a 
 group of wounded. lie rode up, and, having procured a drink 
 of water and refilled his canteen, approached the surgeon. 
 
 " Doctor, where is your horse ? I wan't you." 
 
 " IIo, Cyrus I bring him up. What is the matter, Aubrey ? 
 You are hurt." 
 
 " Nothing serious, I think. But Major Huntingdon is despe- 
 rately wounded — mortally, I am afraid. See what you can do 
 for him." 
 
 " You must be mistaken I I have asked repeatedly for Leo- 
 nard, and they told me he was in hot pursuit, and unhurt. 1 
 hope to heaven you are mistaken." 
 
 " Impossible ; I tell you I lifted him out of a pool of his own 
 blood. Come ; I will show you the way." 
 
 At a hard gallop they crossed the intervening woods, and 
 without difficulty Russell found the spot where the mangled form 
 lay still. He had swooned, with his face turned up to the sky, 
 and the ghastlincss of death had settled on his strongly-marked, 
 handsome features. 
 
 " God pity Irene 1" said the doctor, as he bent down and ex- 
 
ALTARS OF 8ACKIFICE. 381 
 
 amined the horrid wound, striving to press the red lips together. 
 The pain caused from handling him roused the brave spirit to 
 consciousness, and opening his eyes he looked around wonder- 
 ingly. 
 "" Well, Ilirani I it is all over with me, old fellow." 
 " I hope not, Leonard ; can't you turn a little, and let me 
 feel for the ball ?" 
 
 " It is of no use ; I am torn all to pieces. Take me out of 
 this dirt, on the fresh grass somewhere." 
 
 " I must first extract the ball. Aubrey, can you help me 
 raise him a little ?" 
 
 Administering some chloroform, he soon succeeded in taking 
 out the ball, and, with Russell's assistance, passed a bandage 
 round the body. 
 
 " There is no chance for me, Hiram ; I know that. I have 
 few minutes to live. Some water." 
 
 Russell put a cup to his white lips, and calling in the assist- 
 ance of Cyrus, who had followed his master, they carried him 
 several yards farther, and made him comfortable, while orders 
 were despatched for an ambulance. 
 
 " It will come after my corpse. Hiram, see that I am sent 
 home at once. I don't want my bones mixed here with other 
 people's ; and it will be some comfort to Irene to know that I 
 am buried in sight of home. I could not rest in a ditch here. 
 I want to be laid in my own vault. Will you see to it ?" 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Hiram, come nearer, where I can see you better. Break 
 the news gently to Irene. Tell her I did my duty ; that will 
 be her only comfort, and best.- Tell her I fell in the thickest of 
 the battle, with my face to Washington ; that I died gloriously, 
 as a Huntingdon and a soldier should. Tell her I sent her my 
 blessing, my love, and a last kiss." 
 
 He paused, and tears glided over his wan cheeks as the pic- 
 ture of his far-off home rose temptingly before him. 
 
 " She is a brave child ; she will bear it, for the sake of the 
 cause I died in. Take care of her, Arnold ; tell Eric I leuvp 
 her to liis guardianship. Harris has my will. My poor lonely 
 
382 macakia; or, 
 
 cliild I it is bitter to leave her. My Queen ! my golden-haired, 
 
 beautiful Irene !" 
 
 . lie raised his hand feebly, and covered liis face. 
 
 " Don't let it trouble you, Leonard. You know how Hove 
 her ; I promise you I will watch over her as long as I live." 
 
 " I believe you. But if I could see her once more, to ask her 
 not to remember my harshness — long ago. You must tell her for 
 me ; slie will understand. Oh ! I — ." 
 
 A horrible convulsion seized him at this moment, and so intense 
 was the agony that a groan burst through his set teeth, and 
 he struggled to rise. Russell knelt down and rested the haughty 
 head against his shoulder, wiping off the cold drops that beaded 
 the pallid brow. After a little while, lifting his eyes to the face, 
 bending over him, Major Huntingdon gazed into the melancholy 
 black eyes, and said, almost in a whisper : 
 
 " I little thought I should ever owe you thanks. Aubrey, for- 
 give me all my hate ; you can afford to do so now. I am not a 
 brute ; I know magnanimity when I see it. Perhaps I was 
 wrong to visit Amy's sins on you ; but I could not forgive her. 
 Aubrey, it was natural that I should hate Amy's son." 
 
 Again the spasm shook his lacerated frame, and twenty min- 
 utes after his fierce relentless spirit was released fl'om torture; 
 the proud, ambitious, dauntless man was with his God. 
 
 Dr. Arnold closed the eyes with trembling fingers, and cover- 
 ed his face with his hands to hide the tears that he could not 
 repress. 
 
 " A braver man never died for freedom. He cheered me on 
 as my regiment charged over the spot vrheYo he lay," said Rus- 
 sell, lookin2: down at the stiffening: form. 
 
 " He had his faults, like the rest of us, and his were stern 
 ones ; but, for all that, I was attached to him. He had some 
 princely traits. I would rather take my place there beside him, 
 than have to break this to Irene. Poor, desolate child I what 
 an awful shock for her ! She loves him with a devotion which I 
 have rarely seen equalled. Grod only knows how she will bear it. 
 If I were not so needed here, I would go to her to-morrow." 
 
 ' ' Perhaps you can be spared." 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 383 
 
 " No ; it would not be right to leave so much suffiTing 
 behind." 
 
 lie turned to Cyrus, and gave directions about brini^ing the 
 body into camp 'to his own tent ; and the two mounted and rode 
 slowly back. 
 
 For some moments silence reigned ; then Dr. Arnold said, 
 suddenly : 
 
 " I am glad you were kind to him, Aubrey. It will be some 
 
 consolation to that pure soul in W , who has mourned 
 
 over and suffered for his violent animosity. It was very gener- 
 ous, Russell," 
 
 " Save your commendation for a better occasion ; I do not 
 merit it now. I had, and have, as little magnanimity as my 
 old enemy, and what I did was through no generous oblivion of 
 the past." 
 
 Glancing at him as these words were uttered gloomily, the 
 doctor noticed his faint, wearied appearance, and led the way to 
 his temporary hospital. 
 
 " Come in, and let me see your arm. Your sleeve is full of 
 blood." 
 
 An examination discovered a painful flesh-wound — the minnie 
 ball having glanced from the shoulder and passed out through 
 the upper part of the arm. In removing the coat to dress the 
 wound, the doctor exclaimed : 
 
 " Here is a bullet-hole in the breast, which must have just 
 missed your heart I Was it a spent-ball ?" 
 
 A peculiar smile disclosed Russell's faultless teeth an instant, 
 but he merely took the coat, laid it over his uninjured arm, and 
 answered : 
 
 " Don't trouble yourself about spent-balls— finish your job. I 
 must look after my wounded." 
 
 As soon as the bandages were adjusted he walked away, and 
 took from the inside pocket of the coat a heavy square morocco 
 case containing Irene's ambrotype. Wlien the coat was button- 
 ed, as on that day, it rested over his heart ; and during the sec- 
 ond desperate charge of General Beau regard's lines, Russell felt 
 a sudden thump, and, above all the roar of that scene uf earn- 
 
384 MACARIA ; OR, 
 
 age, heard the shivering of the glass which covered the likeness. *" 
 The morocco was torn and indented, but the ball was tnrned 
 aside harmless, and now, as he touched the spring, the fragments 
 of glass fell at his feet. It was evident that his towering form 
 had rendered him a conspicuous target ; some accurate marks- 
 man had aimed at his heart, and the ambro type-case had pre- 
 served his Hfe. He looked at the uninjured, radiant face till a 
 mist dimmed his eyes ; nobler aspirations, purer aims possessed 
 him, and, bending his knees, he bowed his forehead on the case 
 and reverently thanked God for his deliverance. With a coun- 
 tenance pale from physical suffering, but beaming with triumph- 
 ant joy for the Nation's first great victory, he went out among 
 the dead and dying, striving to relieve the wounded, and to find 
 the members of his own command. Passing from group to group, 
 he heard a feeble, fluttering voice pronounce his name, and saw 
 one of his men sitting against a tree, mortally wounded by a frag- 
 ment of shell. 
 
 " Well, Colonel, I followed that black feather of yours as long 
 as I could. I am glad I had one good chance at the cowardly 
 villains before I got hurt. We 've thrashed them awfully, and 
 I am willing to die now." 
 
 " I hope you are not so badly hurt. Cheer up, Martin ; I 
 will bring a doctor to dress your leg, and we will soon have you 
 on crutches." 
 
 " No, Colonel ; the doctor has seen it, and says there is no- 
 thing to be done for me. I knew it before ; everybody feels 
 when death strikes them. Dr. Arnold gave me something that 
 has eased me of my pain, but he can't save me. Colonel, they 
 say my captain is killed ; and, as I may not see any of our com- 
 pany boys, I wish you would write to my poor wife, and tell her 
 all about it. I have n't treated her as well as I ought ; but a 
 wife forgives everything, and she will grieve for me, though I did 
 act like a brute when I was drinking. She will be proud to know 
 that I fought well for my country, and died a faithful Confeder- 
 ate soldier ; and so will my boy, my Philip, who wanted to come 
 with me. Tell Margaret to send him to take my place just as 
 soon as he is old enough. The boy will revenge me ; he has a 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 385 
 
 noble spirit. And, Colonel, be sure to tell her to tell Miss Irene 
 that I kept my promise to her— that I have not touched a drop 
 of liquor since the day she talked to me before I went out to 
 build Mr. Huntingdon's gin-house. God bless her sweet, pure 
 soul 1 I believe she saved me from a drunkard's grave, to fill 
 that of a brave soldier. I know she will never let my Margaret 
 suffer, as long as she lives." 
 
 " Is there anything else I can do for you, Martin ?" 
 
 " Nothing else, unless I could get a blanket, or something, t# 
 put under my head. I am getting very weak." 
 
 " Leavens, pick up one of those knapsacks scattered about, 
 and bring a blanket. I promise you, Martin, I will write to 
 your wife ; and when I go home, if I outlive this war, I will see 
 that she is taken care of. I am sorry to lose you, my brave fel- 
 low. You were one of the best sergeants in the regiment. But 
 remember that you have helped to win a great battle, and your 
 country will not forget her faithful sons w^ho fell at Manassa." 
 
 " Good-by, Colonel ; I should like to follow you to Washing- 
 ton. You have been kind to us all, and I hope you will be 
 spared to our regiment. God bless you, Colonel Aubrey, where- 
 ever you go." 
 
 Russell changed him from his constrained posture to a mora 
 comfortable one, rested his head on a knapsack and blanket, 
 placed his own canteen beside him, and, with a long, hard gripe 
 of hands, and faltering " God bless you !" the soldiers parted. 
 The day of horrors was shuddering to its close ; glazing eyes 
 were turned for the last time to the sun which set in the fiery 
 West ; the din and roar of the pursuit died away in the distance ; 
 lowering clouds draped the sky ; the groans and wails of the 
 wounded rose mournfully on the reeking air ; and night and a 
 drizzling rain came down on the blanched corpses on the torn, 
 ^'•ampled, crimson plain of Manassa. 
 
 •' I hate the dreadful hollow behind the little wood, 
 Its lips in the field above are dabbled with blood-red heath, 
 The red-ribbed ledges drip with a fiilent horror of blood, 
 And Echo there, whatever is asked her, answers ' Death !' '' 
 
 But all of intolerable torture centred not there, awful as was the 
 
 17 
 
386 MACARIA ; OK, 
 
 scene. Throughout the length and breadth of the Confederacy 
 telegraphic despatches told that the battle was raging ; and an 
 army of women spent that 21st upon their knees, in agonizing 
 prayer for husbands and sons who wrestled for their birth- 
 right on the far-off field of blood. Gray-haired pastors and 
 curly-headed children alike besought the God of Justice to bless 
 the Kight, to deliver our gallant band of patriots from the inso- 
 lent hordes sent to destroy us ; and to that vast trembling vol- 
 ume of prayer which ascended from early morning from the al- 
 tars of the South, God lent his ear, and answered. 
 
 The people of W were subjected to painful suspense as 
 
 hour after hour crept by, and a dense crowd collected in ftont 
 of the telegraph office, whence floated an ominous red flag. An- 
 drew waited on horseback to carry to Irene the latest intelli- 
 gence, and during the entire afternoon she paced the colonnade, 
 with her eyes fixed on the winding road. At half-past five 
 o'clock the solemn stillness of the sultry day was suddenly broken 
 by a wild, prolonged shout from the town ; cheer after cheer was 
 caught up by the hills, echoed among the purple valleys, and 
 finally lost in the roar of the river. Andrew galloped up the av- 
 enue with an extra, yet damp from the printing-press, containing 
 the joyful tidings that McDowell's army had been completely 
 routed, and was being pursued toward Alexandria. Meagre was 
 the account — our heroes, Bee and Bartow, had fallen. No oth- 
 er details were given, but the premonition, " Heavy loss on our 
 side," sent a thrill of horror to every womanly heart, dreading to 
 learn the price of victory. Irene's white face flashed as she read 
 the despatch, and raising her hands, exclaimed : 
 
 " Oh, thank God ! thank God !" 
 
 " Shall I go back to the office ?" 
 
 " Yes ; I shall certainly get a despatch from father sometime 
 to-night. Go back and wait for it. Tell Mr. Kogers, the oper- 
 ator, what you came for, and ask him I say please to let you 
 have it as soon as it arrives. And, Andrew, bring me any other 
 news that may come before my despatch." 
 
 Tefliously time wore on ; the shadows on the lawn and terrace 
 grew longer and thinner ; the birds deserted the hedges j the 
 
ALTAHS OF SACRIFICE. 387 
 
 pigeons forsook the colonnade und steps ; Paragon, tired of walk- 
 ing after Irene, fell asleep on the rug ; and the slow, drowsy 
 tinkle of cow-bells died away among the hills. 
 
 Far off to the east the blue was hidden by gray thunderous 
 masses of rain-cloud, now and then veined by lightning ; and as 
 Irene watched their jagged, grotesque outlines, they took the 
 form of battling hosts. Cavalry swept down on the flanks, huge 
 forms heaved along the centre, and the lurid furrows ploughing 
 the whole from time to time, seemed indeed death-denling flashes 
 of artillery. She recalled the phantom cloud-battle in the Ne- 
 therlandish vision, and shuddered involuntarily as, in imagination, 
 she 
 
 " Heard the heavens fill with shouting, and there rained a ghastly dew 
 From the nations airy navies grappling in the central blue." 
 
 Gradually the distant storm drifted southward, the retreat pass- 
 ed the horizon, a red sunset faded in the west ; rose and amber 
 and orange were quenched, and sober blue, with starry lights, 
 was over all. How the serene regal beauty of that summer 
 night mocked the tumultuous throbbing, the wild joy, and great 
 exultation of the national heart ! Mother Earth industriously 
 weaves and hangs about the world her radiant lovely tapestries, 
 pitiless of man's wails and requiems, deaf to his paeans. Irene 
 had earnestly endeavored to commit her father and Russell to the 
 merciful care and protection of God, and to rest in faith, ban- 
 ishing apprehension ; but a horrible presentiment, which would 
 not " down" at her bidding, kept her nerves strung to their ut- 
 most tension. As the night advanced, her face grew haggard 
 and the wan lips fluttered ceaselessly. Russell she regarded as 
 already dead to her in this world, but for her father she wrestled 
 desperately in spirit. Mrs. Campbell joined her, uttering hope- 
 ful, encouraging words, and Nellie came out, with a cup of tea 
 on a waiter. 
 
 " Please drink your tea, just to please me, Queen. I can't 
 bear to look at you. In all your life I never saw you worry so. 
 Do sit down and rest ; you have walked fifty miles since moru- 
 
 ing." 
 
 " Take it away, Nellie. I don't want it." 
 
388 MACAEIA ; OE, 
 
 *' But, child, it will be time enough to fret when you know 
 Mas' Leonard is hurt. Don't run to meet trouble ; it will face 
 you soon enough. If you won't take the tea, for pity's sake let 
 me get you a glass of wine." 
 
 " 1^0 ; I tell you I can't swallow anything. If you want to 
 help me, pray for father." 
 
 She resumed her walk, with her eyes strained in the direction 
 of the town. 
 
 Thus passed three more miserable hours ; then the clang of 
 the iron gate at the foot of the avenue fell on her aching ear ; 
 the tramp of horses' hoofs and roll of wheels came up the gra- 
 velled walk. 
 
 " Bad news I they are coming to break it to me 1" said she 
 hoarsely, and pressing her hands together, she leaned heavily 
 against one of the guardian statues which had stood so long before 
 the door, like ancient Ilermae at Athens. Was the image, in- 
 deed, prescient ? It tilted from its pedestal, and fell with a 
 crash, breaking into fragments. The omen chilled her, and she 
 stood still, with the light from the hall-lamp streaming over her. 
 The carriage stopped ; Judge Harris and his wife came up the 
 steps, followed slowly by Andrew, whose hat was slouched over 
 his eyes. As they approached, Irene put out her hands wist- 
 fully. 
 
 " We have won a glorious victory, Irene, but many of our 
 noble soldiers are wounded. I knew you would be anxious, and 
 we came — " 
 
 " Is my father kUled?" 
 
 " Your father was wounded. He led a splended charge." 
 
 "Wounded ! ^N^o ! he is killed ! Andrew, tell me the truth 
 — is father dead ?" 
 
 The faithful negro could no longer repress his grief, and sobbed 
 convulsively, unable to reply. 
 
 "Oh, my God ! I knew it ! I knew it I" she gasped. 
 
 The gleaming arms were thrown up despairingly, and a low, 
 dreary cry wailed through the stately old mansion as the orphan 
 turned her eyes upon Nellie and Andrew — the devoted two who 
 had petted her from childhood. 
 
ALTARS OP SACRIFICE. • 389 
 
 Judge Harris led Ikm- into the library, and his weeping wife 
 endeavored to oiler consolation, but she stood rigid and tearless, 
 holding out her hand for the despatch. Finally, they gave it to 
 her, and she read : 
 " Charles T. Harris : 
 
 " Huntingdon was desperately wounded at three o'clock to- 
 day, in making a charge. He died two hours ago. I was with 
 
 him. The body leaves to-morrow for "W , 
 
 Hiram Arnold." 
 
 The paper fell from her fingers ; with a dry sob she turned 
 from them, and threw herself on the sofa, with her face of woe 
 to the wall. So passed the night. 
 
 * * * * :<c * 
 
 Four days after, a number of Major Huntingdon's friends 
 waited at the depot to receive the body. The train had been 
 detained ; it was nine o'clock at night when the cars arrived, 
 and the coffin was placed in a hearse and escorted to the Hill. 
 By Judge Harris' directions it was carried into the parlor, and 
 placed on the table draped for the purpose ; and when arrange- 
 ments had been made for the funeral on the morrow, he dis- 
 missed all but a few who were to remain durinor the ni'-'ht. 
 
 Irene sat at her window ui>stairs, looking out upon the sombre 
 soughing pines that rose Hke a cloud against the starry sky, 
 while Grace and Salome walked about the room, crying spas- 
 modically, and trying to utter something comforting to the still 
 figure, which might have been of ivory or granite, for any visi- 
 ble sign of animation. After a time, when the bustle had 
 ceased, when the carriages had withdrawn, and the hurried 
 tread of many feet had subsided, Irene rose, and said : 
 
 " Grace, tell your father I wish to see him." 
 
 Judge Harris came promptly. 
 
 '' I am greatly obliged to you for all your kindness. Please take 
 the gentlemen into the dining-room or library, if you will stay, 
 and do not allow any of them to return to the parlor ; I shall 
 sit there to-night, and need no one.'^ 
 
 "Oh, my child I impossible. It would not be proper. You 
 are not able." 
 
390 MACARTA ; OE, 
 
 " I know what I am able to do, and what I have resolved tc 
 do. Be good enough to remove those g-entlemen at once." 
 
 Something in her face startled him ; perhaps its frightful, 
 tearless immobility ; and he silently complied. 
 
 When all was quiet, she crossed the passage, entered the 
 draped room, and locking the door, was alone with her dead. 
 The coffin stood in the centre of the floor, and upon it lay the 
 sword and plumed hat. She looked down on the lid where the 
 name was inscribed, and kissed the characters ; and, as all her 
 isolation and orphanage rushed upon her, she laid her head on 
 the table, calling mournfully upon the manly sleeper for comfort 
 and forgiveness. 
 
 When morning broke fully, Judge Harris knocked softly at 
 the door. No answer. He rapped loudly, trying the bolt. All 
 within was silent as the grave. He hurried around to the green- 
 house, threw up the sash, pushed open the door, and entered, full 
 of undefiuable alarm. The wax candles on tlie table and mantle 
 bad just expired ; the smoke from one was still creeping, thread- 
 like, to the ceiling. A white form knelt on the floor, with 
 clasped hands and bowed head resting against the coffin. 
 
 " Irene ! Irene I" 
 
 She did not stir. 
 
 He looped back the curtains to admit the light, and bending 
 down lifted the head. The face was chill and colorless as death, 
 the eyes were closed, and a slender stream of blood oozed slowly 
 over the lips, and dripped upon the linen shroudings of the table. 
 She had fainted from the hemorrhage, and, taking her in his arms, 
 be carried her up to her own room. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 " I intend to trust you with important despatches. Miss Grey 
 — for I have great confidence in female ingenuity, as well as fe- 
 male heroism. The meekest of women are miniature Granvelles j 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 391 
 
 nature made vou a race of schemers. Pardon rac if I ask, how 
 you propose to conceal the despatches ? It is no easy matter 
 now to run the bloclvade of a Southern port, especially on the 
 Gulf ; and you must guard against being picked up by the 
 Philistines.'' 
 
 ** I am fully aware of all the risk attending my trip ; but if 
 you will give me the papers, prepared as I directed in my note 
 from Paris, I will pledge my life that they shall reach Richmond 
 safely. If I am captured and carried North, I have friends who 
 will assist me in procuring a passport to the South, and little 
 delay will occur. If I am searched, I can bid them defiance. 
 Q'lv me the despatches, and I will show you how I intend to 
 take them." 
 
 Elcctra opened her trunk, took out a large port-folio, and se- 
 lected from the drawings one in crayon representing the heads 
 of Michael Angelo's Fates. Spreading it out, face downward, 
 on the table, she laid the closely-written tissue paper of des- 
 patches smoothly on the back of the tliin pasteboard ; then fitted 
 a square piece of oil-silk on the tissue missive, and having, with a 
 small brush, coated the silk with paste, covered the whole with 
 a piece of thick drawing-paper, the edges of which were carefully 
 glued to those of the pasteboard. Taking a hot iron from the 
 grate, she passed it repeatedly over the paper, till all was 
 smooth and dry ; then in the centre wrote, w^ith a pencil : 
 " Michael Angelo's Fates, in the Pitti Palace. Copied May 8th, 
 1801." From a list of figures in a small note-book she added 
 the dimensions of the picture, and underneath all, a line from 
 Euripides. 
 
 Her eyes sparkled as she bent over her work, and at length, 
 lifting it for inspection, she exclaimed, triumphantly : 
 
 " There, sir ! I can baffle even the Paris detective, much less 
 the lynx-eyed emissaries of Lincoln, Seward & Co. Arc you 
 satisfied ? Examine it with your own hands." 
 
 " Perfectly satisfied, my dear young lady. But suppose they 
 should seize your trunk ? Confiscation is the cry all over the 
 North." 
 
 •* Finding nothing suspicious or ' contraband ' about me, ex- 
 
392 MAOAEIA ; OR, 
 
 cept my Southern birth and sympathies, they would scarcely take 
 possession of the necessary tools of my profession. ■ I have no 
 fear, sir ; the i^aper is fated to reach its- destination." 
 
 " Are your other despakihes sealed up pictorially ?" 
 
 She laughed heartily. 
 
 " Of course not. We women are too shrewd to hazard all 
 upon one die." 
 
 " Well — well I You see that we trust important data to your 
 cunning fingers. You leave London to-morrow for South- 
 ampton ; will arrive just in time for the steamer. Good-by, 
 Miss Grey. When J get back to the Confederacy I shall cer- 
 tainly find you out. I want you to paint the portraits of my 
 wife and children. From the enviable reputation you have al- 
 ready acquired, I am proud to claim you for my countrywoman. 
 God bless you, and lead you safely home. Good-by, Mr. Mitch- 
 ell. Take care of her, and let me hear from you on your arri- 
 val." 
 
 From the hour when tidings of the fall of Sumter reach- 
 ed Europe, Electra had resolved to cut short the studies 
 which she had pursued so vigorously since her removal to Flo- 
 rence, and return to the South. But the tide of travel set to- 
 ward, not from European shores, and it was not until after re- 
 peated attempts to find some one homeward-bound, that she 
 learned of Eric Mitchell's presence in Paris, and his intention of 
 
 Boon returning to W . She wrote at once, requesting his 
 
 permission to place herself under his care. It was cordially ac- 
 corded ; and, bidding adieu to Italy, she joined him without de- 
 lay, despite the pleadin^js of Mr., Mrs. Young, and Louisa, w^ho 
 had recently arrived at Florence, and sincerely mourned a sepa- 
 ration under such painful circumstances. 
 
 Eric was detained in Paris by a severe attack of the old dis- 
 ease, but finally reached London — whence, having completed 
 their arrangements, they set off for Southampton, and took pas- 
 sage in the Trent, which was destined subsequently to play a 
 prominent part in the tangled role of Diplomacy, and to furnish 
 the most utterly humiliating of many chapters of the j^usillanim- 
 ity, sycophancy, and degradation of the Federal government. 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 393 
 
 The voyage proved pleasant and prosperous ; and, once at 
 Havana, Eric anxiously sought au oi)portunity of testhig the 
 vaunted eflieiency of the blockade. Unfortunately, two steamers 
 had started the week previous, one to New Orleans, the other to 
 Charleston ; only sailing vessels were to be found, and about the 
 movements of these impenetrable mystery seemed wrapped. 
 On the afternoon of the third day after their arrival, Eric, wea- 
 ried with the morning's fruitless inquiry, was resting on the sofa 
 at the hotel, while Electra watched the tide of passers-by, when 
 Willis, Eric's servant, came in quickly, and walked up to the 
 sofa. N 
 
 " Master, Captain Wright is here. I asked him to come and 
 see you, and he is waiting down stairs." 
 " Captain Wright ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir ; the captain you liked so much at Smyrna — the 
 one who gave you that pipe, sir." 
 
 " Oh, I remember ! Yes— yes ; and he is here ? Well, 
 show him up." 
 
 " Master, from the way he watches the clouds, I believe he is 
 about to run out. Maybe he can take us ?" 
 
 " Willis is invaluable to you, Mr. Mitchell," said Electra, as 
 the negro left the room. 
 
 " He is indeed. He is eyes, ears, crutches, everything to me, 
 and never forgets anything or anybody. He has traveled over 
 half the world with me— could desert me, and be free at any mo- 
 ment he felt inclined to do so — but is as faithful now as the day 
 on which I first left home with him." 
 
 " Ah, Captain 1 this is an unexpected pleasure. I am heart- 
 ily glad to see you. Miss Grey — Captain Wright. Take a 
 seat." 
 
 The captain looked about thirty, possibly older ; wore a gray 
 Ruit and broad straw hat, and, when the latter was tossed on the 
 floor, showed a handsome, frank, beaming face, with large, clear, 
 smiling blue eyes, whose steady light nothing human could dim. 
 His glossy, red<lish-browu hair was thrust back from a forehead 
 white and smooth as a woman's, but the lower portion of the 
 face was effectually bronzed by exposure to the vicissitudes of 
 
 17* 
 
394 MACARIA ; OR, 
 
 climate and weaflier ; and Electra noticed a peculiar nei'vons 
 restlessness of manner, as though he were habitually on the 
 watch. 
 
 " I am astonished to see you in Havana, Mitchell. Where 
 did you come from ?" 
 
 " Just from Paris, where bad health drove me, after I bade 
 you good-by at Smyrna. What are you doing here ?" 
 
 " I suppose you have heard of our great victory at Manassa ?" 
 
 "Yes ; and am rejoiced beyond all expression, but feel anx- 
 ious to see a full Ust of our loss. I had a brother-in-law in that 
 engagement." 
 
 " His name ?" 
 
 " Huntingdon — Major Huntingdon, of W , in ." 
 
 " I have seen no mention of his name in the papers, but our 
 loss in officers was very heavy. We can ill afford to spare Bee, 
 Bartow, and Fisher ; and I want the war carried on till we burn 
 every public building in Washington, and raise a monument 
 to our dead on the site of the capitol. We owe this debt and we 
 must pay it." 
 
 " Have you a vessel here, captain ?" 
 
 " Of course I have I Don't you suppose that I would be in 
 the army if I could not serve ray country better by carrying iu 
 arms and ammunition ? I have already made two successful 
 trips vrith my schooner — ran in, despite the blockaders. ^I 
 am negotiating for a steamer, but until I can get one ready I 
 intend to sail on." 
 
 '' When did you arrive here last?" 
 
 " About ten days ago. They chased me for nearly fifteen 
 miles, but I stole out of sight before morning." 
 
 " When do you expect to leave here ?" 
 
 The captain darted a swift, sea.rching glance at Electra, rose, 
 and closed the door, saying, with a light laugh : 
 
 " Take care, man ! You are not exactlv deer-huntin^? or crob- 
 catching in a free country ! Mind that, and talk softly. I am 
 watched here ; the Federal agents all know me, and there are 
 several Federal vessels in port. When do I expect to leave ? 
 Well, to-night, if the weather thickens up, as I think it will, 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICIS. 395 
 
 and tliore is evident sign of a storm. Most sailors wait for 
 fair weatl)t'r ; we hlockade-ruiiners for foul." 
 
 " Oil, Captain I do take us with you 1" said Electra, eagerly. 
 
 " What 1 III a rickety schooner, in the teeth of a gale ? 
 Besides, Miss, I am taking a cargo of powder this trip, and if I 
 am hard pressed I shall blow up vessel and all, rather than suffer 
 it to fall into Yankee clutches. You would not relish going 
 up to heaven after the fashion of a rocket, would you ?" 
 
 " I am willing, sir, to risk everytliiug you threaten, rather than 
 wait here indefinitely." 
 
 " Can't you take us, Wright — Miss Grey, Willis, and myself? 
 We are very mipatient to get home." 
 
 " But I have no accommodation for passengers, I should 
 be ashamed to ask Miss Grey aboard my little egg-shell — every- 
 thing is so small and comfortless. I have not lost all my 
 politeness and chivalry, if I am a rough-looking Confederate sailor. 
 I assure you I have every disposition to oblige you, but really it 
 would not be right to subject a lady to such a trip as I may have 
 before me." 
 
 " But, Captain, if, with all these facts staring me in the face, I 
 appeal to your chivalry, and beg of you to allow me to undergo 
 the hardships incident to the trip, in preference to uncertain 
 delay here. If I prefer to run the gauntlet in your schooner, you 
 surely will not refuse me ?" 
 
 " Really, Miss, I don't know what to say. I thought I would 
 frighten you out of the notion — for, to tell you the truth, I am 
 always so much more anxious when I have ladies' lives in my hands. 
 I pledge you my word I would sooner run afoul of a Federal frig- 
 ate than see you suffer for want of anything. I can't even set a 
 table half the time." 
 
 " But I suppose, sir, we could contrive to live a few days 
 without eating at a regular table. I will take some cheese and 
 crackers and fruit along in a basket, if that will ease your mind. 
 Do waive your scruples, and consent to take charge of us." 
 
 " I add my prayers to hers. Wright, do take us. We shall 
 not mind privations or inconvenience." 
 
 ** Well, then, understand distinctly that, if anything happens, 
 
390 " MACAEIA : OE 
 
 you are not to blame me. If the youni^ Icdy gets sea-sick, 
 or freckled, or sun-burnt, or starved to death, or blown up, or 
 drowned, or, worse than all, if the Yankee thieves by the way- 
 side take her as a prize, it will be no fault of mine whatever, and 
 I tell you now I shall not lay it on my conscience." 
 
 *' * Raw-head and bloody bones' never frightened me, even 
 when I was a little child, sir ; so you may reconcile yourself to 
 the prospect of having us compagnons de voyage." 
 
 " Suppose a small hand-to-hand fight forms a part of the 
 programme ?" 
 
 " In that case, I have a splendid brace of pistols, which were 
 given to me before I left Europe." 
 
 " Do you know how to handle them ?" 
 
 " Moderately well. I will practice as we go along, by making 
 a target of one of your small ropes." 
 
 " I see you are incorrigible ; and I suppose I must let you go 
 witii me, bongre malgrC," 
 
 " Bongre let it be, by all means. I am inexpressibly impatient 
 to get home." 
 
 << Wright, to what part are you bound ?" 
 
 " Ah ! that is more than I can tell you. The winds must de- 
 cide it. I can't try the Carolinas again this trip ; they are watch- 
 ing for me too closely there. New Orleans is rather a longer run 
 than I care to make, and I shall keep my eyes on Apalachicola 
 and Mobile." 
 
 " What object have you in starting to-night, particularly 
 in the face of a gale ?" 
 
 Again the captain's eyes swept round the room, to guard 
 against any doors that might be ajar. 
 
 " As I told you before, I am watched here. The Federals 
 have a distinguished regard for me, and I have to elude suspi- 
 cion, as well as run well, when I do get out. Two hours ago a 
 Federal armed steamer, which has been coaling here, weighed 
 anchor, and has probably left the harbor, to cruise between this 
 place and Key West. As they passed, one of the crew yelled 
 out to me that they would wait outside, and catch me certainly 
 this time ; that I had made my last jaunt to Dixie, etc. I have 
 
ALTARS OF SACRTFICR. 397 
 
 carefully put out the impression that I need some repaii^ whicli 
 cannot be finished this week ; and have told one or two confi- 
 delitiallv, that I could not leave until the arrival of a certain 
 cargo from Nassau, wluch is due to-morrow. That Puritanical 
 craft which started off at noon does not expect me for several 
 days, and to-night I shall rub my fingers and sail out right in 
 her wake. Ha I ha ! how they will howl. What gnashing of 
 teeth there will be, when they hear of me in a Confederate port ? 
 And now about your baggage. Have everthing ready ; I will 
 show Willis the right wharf, and at dark he must bring the 
 trunks down ; I will be on the w^atch, and send a boat ashore. 
 About sunset you and Miss Grey can come aboard, as if for a 
 mere visit. I must go and make what little preparation I can 
 for your comfort." 
 
 Nothing occurred to frustrate the plan ; Eric and Electra 
 were cordially received, and at dusk Willis and the baggage 
 arrived punctually. The schooner was lying some distance from 
 the wharf, all sails down, and apparently contemplating no 
 movement. With darkness came a brisk, stiffening wind, and 
 clouds shutting out even dim star-light. At ten o'clock, all 
 things being in readiness, the captain went on deck ; very soon 
 after the glimmering lights of the city, then the frowning walls 
 of Moro, were left behind, and the " Dixie" took her way silently 
 and swiftly seaward. 
 
 About two o'clock, being unable to sleep, from the rocking of 
 the vessel, Electra, knowing that Eric was still on deck, crept 
 up the steps in the darkness, for the lights had been extin- 
 guished. The captain was passing, but paused, saying, in a 
 whisper ; 
 
 " Is that you. Miss Grey ? Come this way, and I will show 
 you something." 
 
 He grasped her hand, led her to the bow, where Eric was sit- 
 ting on a coil of rope, and, pointing straightforward, added, in 
 the same suppressed tone : 
 
 " Xook right ahead — you see a light ? , The Philistines are 
 upon us ! Look well, and you will see a dark, irregular, n^ov- 
 ing mass ; that is the steamer of which I told you. They have 
 
398 MACAEIA ; OR, 
 
 found out ni Inst tliat there is going to be all sorts of a gale, anci 
 as they can't ride it like niv snug, dainty little egg-shell, they 
 are putting back with all possible speed. Twenty minutes ago 
 they were bearing down on me ; now, you see that they will 
 pass to our left. What a pity they don't know their neigh 
 bors !" 
 
 '* Do you think that they will not see you ?-' 
 
 " Certainly 1 with sails down, and lights out, there is nothing 
 to be seen on such a night as this. There I don't you hear her 
 paddles ?" 
 
 *' No. I hear nothing but the roar of the wind and water." 
 
 " Ah ! that is because your ears are not trained like mine. 
 Great Neptune ! how she labors already ! Now 1 be silent." 
 
 On came the steamer, which Electra's untrained eyes, almost 
 blinded by spray, could barely discern ; and her heart beat like 
 a muffled drum as it drew nearer and nearer. Once she heard a 
 low, chuckling laugh of satisfaction escape the captain ; then, 
 with startling distinctness, the ringing of a bell was borne from 
 the steamer's deck. 
 
 " Four bells — two o'clock. How chao-rined thev will be to- 
 morrow, when they find out they passed me without paying their 
 respects !" whispered the captain. 
 
 Gradually the vessel receded, the dark mass grew indistinct, 
 tlie light flickered, and was soon lost to view, and the sound of 
 the laboring machinery was drowned in the roar of the waves. 
 
 " Hurrah ! for the ' Dixie I' Strike a light below, Hutchin- 
 son, and get some glasses. We must have a little champagne in 
 honor of this performance. Come down. Miss Grey, and you 
 too, Mitchell ; the water is beginning to break very near your 
 feet. Oh 1 but you must take some wine. Miss Grey. I can't 
 have you looking like a ghost when I land you on Confederate 
 soil. People will swear I starved you, and nothing humili- 
 ates me half so much as an imputation on my hospitality. Here's 
 to the Confederacy ! and to our Beauregard and Johnston I 
 God bless them both !" 
 
 Electra drank the wine ; and, before he went back on deck, 
 the captain made a comfortable place for her on the sofa in the 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 809 
 
 little cal)in. The storm increased nutil it blew a perfect Imrri- 
 eane, and the scliooner rolled and creaked, now and then shiver- 
 ing in every timber. It was utterly impossible to slccj), and 
 Eric, who was suffering from a headache, passed a miserable 
 night. In the white sickly dawn the captain looked in again, 
 and Electra thought that no ray of sunshine could be more radi- 
 ant or cheering than his joyous, noble face. 
 
 " Good-morning. I wonder if I look as much like a drenched 
 lilY as you do. Miss Grey ? Doubtless, much more like a 
 drenched sunflower, you think. Were you alarmed all night ?" 
 
 " No, sir ; I knew that we were not in the hands of Pa- 
 linurus." 
 
 " Oh I thank you for your confidence ! I will tell my wife of 
 that, if I live to see her again. I certainly did not fall over- 
 board, which was lucky — for, though I rather pride myself on 
 my proficiency" as a swimmer, I am very sceptical concerning the 
 mythologic three days performance. Mitchell, I hope a good 
 cup of hot coffee will set your head straight." 
 
 " How is the storm ? Any abatement ?" asked Eric. 
 
 " ^NTot a whit yet ; but the wind has veered a little, and I 
 think that by twelve o'clock it will break away." 
 
 " Captain, can I go on deck for a little while ?" 
 
 " Whew I My dear young lady, you would not be able to 
 catch your breath again for a half-hour. Yon could not stand a 
 moment ; spray and wind would blind you, and the waves would 
 take you overboard — wash you away." 
 
 "But I Avant to see a genuine violent storm at sea. I shall 
 probably never have another opportunity." 
 
 " I will answer for the genuineness of this specimen, if you 
 really want to look out. Wrap a shawl round your shoulders ; 
 give me your hand ; step up ; look for yourself. No counter- 
 feit—take my word for that. Squally enough, is n't it ?" 
 
 A wild howling waste of waters leaped and rolled like leaden 
 mountains against a wan drab skj-, where dun smoke-colorcd 
 clouds trailed sullenly before the wind. Foam-crowned walls 
 towered on either side the schooner, leaned over as if to meet and 
 
400 MACARTA ; OR, 
 
 crush it, and broke in wreaths of spray about the deck, while 
 ghastly sheet-lightuhig glimmered ceaselessly. 
 
 " Old Father Neptune must be in a tearing rage with his 
 pretty Amphitrite, to churn up all this commotion. Don't you 
 think you have seen enough, Miss Grey ? You are getting wet." 
 
 He saw her face flush and her eyes sparkle strangely. 
 
 " If I could only paint this sea ! If I could only put that roll 
 and sweep of waves yonder upon canvas ! I could afford to die 
 young. Oh I for the brush of Clarkson Stanfield for one hour ! 
 to fix that sea — ' where it gathers itself into a huge billow, front- 
 ing the blast like an angry brow, corrugated in agony and rage.' 
 My father was a sailor, and I think I must have inherited my love 
 of the sea from him." 
 
 " Where is he now ?" 
 
 " Dead — long ago — before I was born. His ship, the ' Elec- 
 tra,' went down with all on board." 
 
 " And your mother ?" 
 
 " Named me for the wreck, and followed my father when I 
 was four months old." 
 
 As swirls of spray dashed in her face, 
 
 "Her eyes had looks like rarisoned birds." 
 
 " Captain, I have read somewhere of a Dutch painter who, in 
 liis passionate longing to portray accurately such scenes as this, 
 had himself lashed to the deck of a vessel during a terrific gale, 
 where he could study and note the peculiar aspects, so difficult 
 to render correctly. I am tempted to follow nis example. Doubt- 
 less you could furnish a rope for such a purpose." . 
 
 ■' Not even a bit of twine. Come down instantly. Miss Grey. 
 I can't afford the luxury of a physician on board ; and if you 
 should be so unfortunate as to catch a catarrh or spell of pneu- 
 monia by this piece of imprudence, I should be distressed to death, 
 and frightened out of my wits. Come down at once." 
 
 About noon the fury of the gale subsided, the sun looked out 
 through rifts in the scudding clouds, and toward night fields of 
 quiet blue were once more visible. By next morning the weatlier 
 iiad cleared up, with a brisk westerly wind ; but the sea still 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 
 
 401 
 
 rolled heavily ; and Eric, unable to bear the motion, kept below, 
 loth to trust himself on his feet. Electra strove to while away 
 the tedious time by reading aloud to him j but many a yearning 
 look was cast toward the deck, and finally she left him with a 
 few books, and ran up to the open air. 
 
 On the afternoon of the third day after leaving Havana, she 
 was sitting on a buffalo-robe stretched near the stern, watching 
 the waves and graceful curls of foam that marked the schooner's 
 path, and forgetful for a season of the fifth volume of " Modern 
 Painters," which lay open beside her. The wind had blown back 
 her straw hat, and her short black hair fluttered about a face fully 
 exposed to view. 
 
 The captain had been tuning a guitar for some moments, and 
 now drew near, throwing himself down on the buffalo-robe. 
 
 " AVhat are you staring at so solemnly ? Tell me what you 
 are thinking of." 
 
 " If you are really curious you are welcome to know. I was 
 only watching the wake of the vessel, and thinking of that beau- 
 tiful simile of Coleridge in the ' Friend :' ' Human experience, 
 like the stern-lights of a ship at sea, illumines only the path we 
 have passed over.' " 
 
 Her clear olive cheeks burned, and her great shadowy elfish 
 eyes kindled as was their wont when her feelings were deeply 
 stirred. 
 
 '' I believe you are an artist. Miss Grey." 
 
 " I am trying to become one, sir. Before we leave you, I want 
 you to examine some ot' my sketches, and select the one which you 
 like best. It will afford me great pleasure to paint it for you, 
 as a feeble token of my gratitude and appreciation of your kind- 
 ness." 
 
 " Thank you. I hope the day is not distant when I shall have 
 my wife with me once more, then I shall beg you to paint her 
 portrait for me." 
 
 " Where is she ?" 
 
 ** At our home in Maryland." 
 
 " Are you a Marylander, Captain ?" 
 
 " Oh, yes ! but that is no place for true men now. Nothing 
 
402 MACARIA ; OR, 
 
 can be accompllslied there at this juncture, and those who are 
 true to the Constitution and the South have joined the Confeder- 
 ate service in one form or another. We shall have to hang that 
 infamous traitor, Hicks, before we can free the state ; and it is 
 because I appreciate the lamentable scarcity of arms and ammuni- 
 tion, tliat I am engaged in my present business. If I arm ten 
 thousand men, it will be better for our glorious cause than if 
 I handled a musket myself. Poor, down-trodden, hand-cuffed, 
 humiliated Maryland ! Miss Grey, you have probably not heard 
 our favorite new song, ' Maryland, my Maryland V I comfort 
 myself by singing it now and then, while hundreds of miles of 
 stormy sea toss between me and my home. Would you like to 
 hear it ?" 
 
 " By all means. In Europe I, of course, heard nothing." 
 He struck a few full, rich chords, and sang the stirring words, 
 as only a true Marylauder can, who feels all the wrongs and ig- 
 nominy of his state. 
 
 His fine eyes were full of tears as he began the last prophetic 
 verse ; and when it was concluded, he sprang up and repeated, 
 triumphantly : 
 
 " She breathes — she burns ! Bhe '11 come ! she '11 come ! 
 Maryland ! My Maryland !" 
 
 " If such be the feeling of her sons, Captain, she will soon 
 * gird her beauteous limbs with steel,' and as a state come out 
 proudly from amid the Abomination of Desolation. The music 
 is peculiarly adapted to the burden of the noble thoughts, and 
 invests them with extraordinary power and pathos. The won- 
 derful effect of national lyrics in such stormy times as these, ex- 
 emplifies the truth of the admirable remark, which I have seen 
 Tery felicitously applied to Beranger, but which was first quoted, 
 I believe, by Fletcher of Saltoun : ' If a man were permitted to 
 make all the ballads, he need not care who should make the laws 
 of a nation.' Oh ! what a sunset ! I never saw anything from 
 Fiesole comparable to that." 
 
 The sun had gone down below the water-fine. From the ze- 
 nith, eastward, the sky was violet-hued ; in the west, light cloud- 
 
ALTAKS OF SACRIFICE. 403 
 
 flake?? liad fratliorcil in fleecy masses and semi-spiral wliiffs ; some 
 burued like dashes of vermilioii in lakes of beryl or chrysoprase, 
 others, in purple pomp, frini^cd their edges with gold ; snowy 
 mountain ranges were tipped with fire, pillared cathedrals with 
 domes of silver ; and, beneath all, glared a liquid sea of rippling 
 flame. A sky which only Ruskin could describe, or Turner 
 paint. 
 
 " The West is an altar, where earth daily gathers up her gar- 
 landed beauty in sacrifical offerings to God. Agamemnon-like, 
 she gives her loveliest." 
 
 These words seemed to pass the girl's lips unconsciously, as 
 she leaned forward with hands clasped on her lap ; and smiling 
 at the breathless eagerness of her face, and the, to him, incom- 
 prehensible enthusiasm she evinced, the captain said : 
 
 " If you are so very fond of such things, I wish you could see 
 a midnight sky in the tropics as I have seen it, sailing between 
 Rio Janeiro and Baltimore. I believe I have not much senti- 
 ment in my nature, but many a night I have lain awake on deck, 
 looking up at the stars that glowed, burned — I hardly know how 
 to express it — like great diamonds clustered on black velvet. 
 Tliere are splendid constellations there, which you have never 
 seen. AYhen we win independence and peace, I intend to have 
 a fino steamship of my own, and then I shall ask you to make a 
 voyage with me as far as Uruguay. I will show you scenery in 
 Brazil that will put you on your knees in adoration." 
 
 " I shall accept the invitation when peace is made. Captain 
 Wright, have you any children ?" 
 
 " Yes — two ; a son and daughter ; the eldest five years old." 
 
 " Then train them up to love sunsets, stars, flowers, clouds of 
 all kinds. We are creatures of education, and I hold it the im- 
 perative duty of parents to teach their children to appreciate tlic 
 beautiful things in this world, which God has given to gild life 
 with. There is grief and gloom enough at best ; and so much 
 innocent, exquisite joy may be extracted from a thousand sources, 
 that it seetns philosophic, as wd\ as a sacred duty, to reap the 
 great harvest of haj)piness which calls to us from a proper ajv 
 preciatiou of Beauty. I do not mean learned disquisitions, or 
 
404 macakia; ok, 
 
 tedious, scientific terminology. A child can admire, love an astre' 
 or a magnolia, without understanding botany ; may wat-ch for 
 and delight in such a sky as that, without classifying the clouds, 
 or designating the gorgeous tints in genuine artistic phraseology; 
 may clap its little hands, and shout with joy, in looking at the 
 stars, without knowing Orion from Ursa Major. I have often 
 been laughed at, and requested not to talk nonsense, when I have 
 expressed these views ; have been sneered at as an enthusiast ; 
 but the longer I live the more earnest becomes my conviction of 
 the truth of my opinion. The useful, the material necessities of 
 life, require little study; our comfort involves attention to them ; 
 but the more ideal sources of peace and enjoyment demand care 
 and cultivation. I am an orphan ; I had no parental hand to 
 guide my thoughts and aspirations to the beautiful in all its pro- 
 tean phases ; my life has not been spent in the most flowery 
 paths ; but because, as a lonely child, I learned to derive plea- 
 sure from communion with Nature and Art, I have seasons of 
 rapturous enjoyment which all California could not purchase. 
 The useful, the practical, and the beautifal are not opposed — 
 are even united — if people would only open their eyes to the 
 truth. I am no morbid sentimentalist or dreaming enthusiast ; if 
 nature intended me for such, a cold matter-of-fact world has cheat- 
 ed me out of my birthright. I live, sustain myself by my art, 
 as you by your sailor's craft ; it feeds and clothes my Ijody as 
 well as my mind. But I can't bear to walk through a grand 
 metropolitan cathedral of wonderful and varied loveliness, and 
 see the endless caravan of men and women tramping along its 
 glorious aisle, looking neither to the right nor left, oblivious 
 of surrounding splendors, gazing stolidly down at the bag of 
 coins in their hands, -or the bales of cotton, or hogsheads of su- 
 gar or tobacco, they are rolling before them. I long to lay my 
 hand on then* shoulders, to stay their hurrying steps, and whis- 
 per, gently : ' Fellow-pilgrims, brothers, sisters, look up at the 
 glories that canopy you. Bend your knees one instant before 
 yonder shrines of Beauty. Oh ! aesthetics is a heavenly ladder, 
 where, like Jacob's angels, pure thoughts and holy aspirations 
 come from and go to God. Whatever tends to elevate and en- 
 
ALTAES OF SACRIFICE. 405 
 
 noble tlie soul is surely useful ; aud love of l)cauty is a mighty 
 educational eugiue, which all may haudle if they will. Captain, 
 sow the seeds of appreciation early in your children's hearts, and 
 they will thank you when you are an old silver-haired man." 
 
 Across that rosy sea tripped magic memories. The sailor's 
 heart found its distant haven in the joyful, tender welcome of his 
 blue-eyed wife — the lisping, birdish tone of his fair-browed, curly- 
 headed children, stretching their little dimpled arms to clasp his 
 neck ; and to the artist-woman came melancholy thoughts of by- 
 gone years shrouded in crumbling garlands — of hopes and fever- 
 ish aspirations that had found their graves — of her future cheer^ 
 less life, her lonely destiny. 
 
 For some time both were silent ; theu the captain roused him- 
 self from his dream of home, and, passing his hand over his 
 eyes, said : 
 
 " Well, Miss Grey, I shall place you on Confederate soil to- 
 morrow, God \yilling," 
 
 " Then you are going to Mobile ?" 
 
 " Yes ; I shall try hard to get in there early in the morning. 
 You will know your fate before many hours." 
 
 " Do you regard this trial as particularly hazardous ?" 
 
 *' Of course ; the blockading squadrons grow more efficient 
 and expert every day, and some daiiger necessarily attends every 
 trial. Mobile ought to be pretty well guarded by this time." 
 
 The wind was favorable, and the schooner ploughed its way 
 swiftly through the autumn night. The captain did not close 
 his eyes ; and juat about daylight Electra and Eric, aroused by 
 a sudden running to and fro, rose, and simultaneously made their 
 appearance on deck. 
 
 " What is the matter, Wright ?" 
 
 " Matter ! why, look ahead, my dear fellow, and see where we 
 are. Yonder is Sand Island light-house, and a little to the 
 right is Fort Morgan. But the fleet to the left is hardly six 
 miles off, and it will be a tight race if I get in." 
 
 There was but a glimmering light, rimming the East, where 
 two or three stars burned with indescribable brilliance and 
 beauty, and in the gray haze and wreaths of mist which, curled 
 
406 MACAKIA ; OB, 
 
 over the white-capped waves Electra could distinguish nothing 
 The air was chill, and she said, with a slight shiver : 
 
 " I can't see any light-house." 
 
 " There is, of course, no light there, these war-times, but you 
 see that tall, white tower, don't you ? There, look through my 
 glass. That low dark object yonder is the outline of the fort ; 
 you will see it more distinctly after a little. Now, look right 
 where my finger points ; that is the flag-staff. Look up over 
 head — I have hoisted our flag, and pretty soon it will be a tar- 
 get for those dogs. Ha 1 Mitchell 1 Hutcliinson ! they see us I 
 There is some movement among them. They are getting ready 
 to cut us off this side of the Swash channel ! We shall see." 
 
 He had crowded on all sail, and the little vessel dashed 
 through the light fog as if conscious of her danger, and resolved 
 to sustain herself gallantly. Day broke fully, sea and sky took 
 the rich orange tint which only autumn mornings give, and in 
 this glow a Federal frigate and sloop slipped from their moor- 
 ings, and bore down threateningly on the graceful bounding 
 schooner. 
 
 " But for the fog, which puzzled me about three o'clock, •! 
 should have run by unseen, and they would never have known 
 it till I was safe in Xavy cove. We will beat them, though, 
 as it is, by about twenty minutes. An hour ago I was afraid I 
 should have to beach her. Are you getting frightened. Miss 
 Grey V 
 
 " Oh, no I I would not have missed this for any consideration. 
 How rapidly the Federal vessels move 1 The^ are gaining on 
 us." 
 
 Her curling hair, damp with mist, clustered around her fore- 
 head ; she had wrapped a scarlet crape shawl about her shoul- 
 ders, and stood, with her red lips apart and trembling, watching 
 tiie exciting race. 
 
 " Look at the frigate !" 
 
 There was a flash at her bow, a curl of white smoke rolled up, 
 then a heavy roar, and a thirty-two pounder round shot fell about 
 a hundred yards to the right of the vessel. 
 
 A yell of defiance rent the air from the crew of the " Dixie" 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 
 
 407 
 
 hats were waved — and, Ruatching olT her sh:uvl, Elect ra shook 
 
 its briglit foUls to the stiiTeniug breeze, while her hot cheeks 
 matched them in depth of color. 
 
 Another and another shot was fired in quick succession, and 
 so accurate had they become, that the kist whizzed through the 
 rigging, cutting one of the small ropes. 
 
 " Humph 1 they are getting saucy," said the captain, looking 
 up coolly, when the yells of his crew ceased for a moment— and, 
 with a humorous twinkle in his fine eyes, he added : 
 
 " Better go l^elow. Miss Grey ; they might clip one of your 
 curls next time. The vandals see you, I dare say, and your red Hag 
 stings their Yankee pride a little." 
 
 " Do you suppose they can distinguish me ?" 
 
 " Certainly. Through my glass I can see the gunners at work, 
 and, of course, they see yOu. Should not be surprised if they aimed 
 specially at you. That is the style of New England chivalry." 
 
 Whiz— whiz ; both sloop and frigate were firing now in good 
 earnest, and one shell exploded a few yards from the side of the 
 little vessel, tossing the foam and water over the group on deck. 
 
 • " They think you have hardly washed your face yet, Miss 
 Grey ; and are courteously anxious to perform the operation for 
 you. 'But the game is np. Look yonder ! Hurrali for Dixie I 
 and Fort Morgan I" 
 
 " From the dim flag-staff battery bellowed a gun." 
 
 The boom of a columbiad from the fort shook the air like 
 thunder, and gave to the blockaders the unmistakable assurance, 
 " Thus far, and no farther." 
 
 The schooner strained on its way ; a few shot fell behind, and 
 soon, under the frowning bastions of the fort, whence the Con- 
 federate banner floated so proudly on the balmy Gulf breeze, 
 spreading its free folds like an aegis, the gallant little vessel 
 passed up the channel* and came to anchor in Mobile bay, amid 
 the shouts of crew and garrison, and welcomed by a salute of 
 five guns'. 
 
408 MACARIA ; OR, 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 Immediately after her arrival in Mobile, Electra prepared to 
 forward her despatches by Captain Wright, whose business called 
 him to Richmond before his return to Cuba ; and an examination 
 of them proved that the expedient resorted to was perfectly 
 successful. By moistening the edges of the drawing-paper, the 
 tissue missive was drawn out uninjured, and, to Eric's surprise, 
 she removed the carefully-stitched blue silk which lined the tops 
 of her traveling gauntlets, and extracted similar despatches, all 
 of winch were at once transmitted to the seat of government. 
 While waiting for a boat, they heard the painful tidings of 
 Major Huntingdon's death, which increased Eric's impatience to 
 
 reach W . The remainder of the journey was sad, and 
 
 four days after leaving the Gulf City the lights of W and 
 
 roar of the Falls simultaueously greeted the spent travelers. 
 Having telegraphed of his safe arrival, the carriage was w^aiting 
 at the depot, and Andrew handed to Electra a note from his 
 mistress, requesting her to come at once to her house, instead of 
 going to the hotel. Eric added earnest persuasion, and with 
 some reluctance, the artist finally consented. They were pre- 
 pared for the silent, solemn aspect of the house, and for the 
 mourning-dress of the orphan, but not for the profound calm, the 
 melancholy, tearless composure with which she received them. 
 Mental and physical suffering had sadly changed her. The oval 
 face was thinner, and her form had lost its roundness, but the 
 countenance retained its singular loveliness, and the mesmeric 
 splendor of the large eyes seemed enhanced. Of her father she 
 did not speak, but gave her uncle a written statement of all the 
 facts which she had been able to gather concerning the circum- 
 stances of his death ; and thus a tacit compact was formed to 
 make no reference to the painful subject. 
 
 As she accompanied Electra to the room prepared for her, on 
 the night of her arrival, the latter asked, with ill-concealed 
 emotion : 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 409 
 
 " Irene, can you tell me anything about Russell ? I am very 
 anxious to hear something of him." 
 
 Irene placed the silver lamp on the table, and standing in its 
 glow, answered, quietly : 
 
 " He was wounded in the arm at Manassa, but retains 
 command of his regiment, and is doing very well. Dr. Arnold 
 is the regimental surgeon, and in one of his letters to me he 
 mentioned that your cousin's wound was not serious." 
 
 "I am going to him immediately." 
 
 " Unfortunately, you will not be allowed to do so. The 
 wounded were removed to Richmond as promptly as possible, 
 but your cousin remained at Manassa, where ladies are not per- 
 mitted." 
 
 " Then I will write to him to meet me in Richmond." 
 
 Irene made no reply, and, watching her all the while, Electra, 
 asked : 
 
 " When did you see him last ? How did he look ?" 
 
 " The day before he started to Richmond. He was very well, 
 I believe, but looked harassed and paler than usual. He is so 
 robust, however, that I think you need entertain no apprehension 
 concerning his health." 
 
 The inflexible features, the low, clear, firm voice were puzzling, 
 and Electra's brow thickened and darkened as she thought : . 
 
 " Her father is dead now ; there is no obstacle remaining. 
 She must love him, and yet she gives no sign of interest." 
 
 " Good-night, Electra ; I hope you will sleep well after your 
 fatiguing journey. Do not get up early. I will send your 
 breakfast to your room, whenever you wish it." 
 
 She turned away, but the artist stepped before her and caught 
 up both her hands. 
 
 " Oh, Irene ! it grieves rae to see you looking so. Talk to 
 me about your great pent-up sorrows, and it will relieve you." 
 
 " My sorrows cannot be talked away." 
 
 " Grave^s never give back their dead. Good-night, my deaf 
 Electra." 
 
 Electra looked at her vsadly, wistfully ; and, suddenly throw- 
 ing her arms about the queenly figure, kissec^ her white, cold 
 
 18 
 
4:10 MACARIA ; OB, 
 
 cheek. Irene returned the caress, withdrew from the embrace, 
 and passed to her own room. 
 
 Jealous women are rarely generous toward their rivals, and 
 Electra's exacting, moody character rendered it peculiarly diffi- 
 cult for her to stifle her feelings. She would most certainly have 
 cordially hated any other woman who stod^ between her and her 
 cousin's heart ; but before the nobility, the loftiness, the cool 
 purity of Irene's soul, her own restless spirit, bowed down with 
 emotions nearly akin to adoration. The solemn serenity of that 
 pale brow awed and soothed the fevered, tumultuous nature of 
 the artist ; and she had schooled herself to look upon her as 
 Russell's future wife — with a pang of pain, it is true, but certainly 
 with no touch of bitterness. She could endure that he should 
 love so devotedly one who ministered at the shrine of Christian 
 charity, and whose hands threw down, wherever she moved, the 
 blessed largess of peace, contentment, and plenty. They stood 
 in strange relationship, these two women. One ignorant of the 
 absorbing love of the other for the man to whom she had given 
 her heart long years ago ; and that other conscious of an undy- 
 ing aJBfection, which she silently inurued in her own bosom. 
 
 Two days later, they sat together before one of the parlor 
 windows. Electra was engaged in tearing off and rolling band- 
 ages, while Irene slowly scraped lint from a quantity of old linen, 
 which filled a basket at her side. Neither had spoken for some 
 time ; the sadness of their occupation called up gloomy thoughts; 
 but finally Electra laid down a roll of cloth, and, interlacing her 
 slight fingers, said : 
 
 *' Irene, as you sit there you remind me of the ' Cameo 
 Bracelet? You have seen it, of course ?" 
 
 " Yes ; it is one of the finest imaginative creations I have 
 ever read ; and I can not divest myself of the apprehension that, 
 it adumbrates the fate of Xew Orleans." 
 
 Electra watched the motion of her companion's fingers, and in 
 
 a rich, musical voice repeated the words, beginning : 
 
 " She's sifting lint for the brave who bled, 
 And I watch her fingers float and flow, 
 Over the linen, as, thread by thread, 
 It flakes to her lap like snow." 
 
ALTAliS OF SACRIFICE. 411 
 
 " Irene, the women of the South must exercise an important 
 influence in determining our national destiny ; and because I felt 
 this so fully, I hurried home to share the perils, and privations, 
 and trials of my countrywomen. It seems to me that no true 
 son or daughter can linger in Europe now, with the broad ocean 
 surging between them and the bloody soil of tlieir native land. It 
 is not my privilege to enter the army, and wield a sword or mus- 
 ket ; but I am going to true womanly work — into the crowded 
 hospitals, to watch faithfully over sick and wounded." 
 
 " I approve your plan, think it your duty, and wish that I could 
 start to Richmond with you to-morrow — for I believe that in this 
 way we may save valuable lives. You should, as you have said, 
 go on at once ; you have nothing to keep you ; your work 
 is waiting for you there. But my position is different ; I have 
 many things to arrange here before I can join you. I want to 
 see the looms at work on the plantation ; and am going down 
 next week with uncle Eric, to consult with the overseer about 
 several changes which I desire made concerning the negroes. 
 When all this is accomplished, I too shall come into the hospitals." 
 
 " About what time may I expect you ?" 
 
 " Not until you see me ; but at the earliest practicable day." 
 
 " Your uncle objects very strenuously to such a plan, does he 
 not ?" 
 
 " He will acquiesce at the proper time. Take care I you are 
 making your bandages too wide." 
 
 " A long dark vista stretches before the Confederacy. I can 
 not, like many persons, feel sanguine of a speedy termination of 
 the war." 
 
 " Yes — a vista lined with the bloody graves of her best sons ; 
 but beyond glimmers Freedom — Independence. In that light 
 we shall walk without stumbling. Deprived of liberty we 
 cannot exist, and its price was fixed when the foundations of 
 time were laid. I believe the termination of the war to be con- 
 tingent only on the method of its prosecution. Agathocles, with 
 thirteen thousand men, established a brilliant precedent, which 
 Scipio followed so Successfully in the second Punic war ; and 
 when our own able generals are permitted to emulate those 
 
412 macaeia; ok, 
 
 illustrious leaders of antiquity, then, and I fear not until then, 
 shall we be able to dictate terms of peace." 
 
 '* Your devotion, then, is unshaken, even by your sorrows." 
 
 " Unshaken ! Does the precious blood of a sacrifice unsettle 
 the holy foundation of the altar ?" 
 
 "But, Irene, if you could have foreseen all that Secession has 
 cost you ?" 
 
 The mourner raised her eyes from the snowy heap of lint, and 
 answered with impressive earnestness and pathos : 
 
 " Could I have foreseen the spirit which actuates the North — 
 the diabolical hate and fiendishness which its people have manifested 
 — and had I known that resistance would have cost the lives of 
 all in the Confederacy, I should have urged Secession as the only 
 door of escape from political bondage. Rather would I have 
 men, women, and children fill one wide common grave, than live 
 in subjection to, or connection with, a people so depraved, 
 unscrupulous, and Godless. Electra, national, like individual 
 life, which is not noble, is not worth the Uving. A people who 
 can survive their liberty, are beneath contempt ; and to-day, 
 desolate though I am, I would sooner take my place by my 
 father's side, than recall him to live a subject of the despotic 
 government at Washington. Even when I believed the friendly 
 professions of thousands at the North — when I believed hi the ex- 
 istence of a powerful constitutional and conservative party — I was, 
 from the beginning, a Secessionist ; and now that the mask 
 of political cant is stripped from them, I am more than ever 
 convinced of the correctness of my views, and the absolute neces- 
 sity of the step we took. The ultimate result can never effect 
 the question of the right and propriety of Secession, though 
 it may demonstrate the deplorable consequences of our procras- 
 tination. In attestation of the necessity of separation stand the 
 countless graves of our dear and gallant dead. I look to a just 
 God to avenge them, and deliver us." 
 
 " But do you still cling to a belief in the possibility of Re- 
 publican forms of Government ? This is a question which «* 
 constantly disquiets me." 
 
 " My faith in that possibility is unshaken. Entire self-abnc- 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 413 
 
 gation I certainly expected, lioped for, on tlie part of onr people ; 
 and I still feel assured that the great masses are capable 
 of patriotism as sublime as the world ever witnessed, and that 
 our noble armies have had no equal iu the history of our race. 
 Nevertheless, it is apparent to those who ponder the aspect 
 of public affairs that demagogism crawls along its customary 
 sinuous path, with serpent-eyes fastened on self-aggrandizement. 
 The pure ore of our country will be found in the ranks of our 
 armies ; and the few scheming politicians, plotting for position, 
 for offices of emolument in civil or military departments, will 
 prove the dross in the revolutionary crucible. I have no 
 apprehension for our future as lou^ as demagogism and nepotism 
 can be kept down ; for out of these grow innumerable evils — not 
 the least of which is the intrusting of important posts to the 
 hands of men who have none of the requisites, save their relation- 
 ship to, or possession of, the favor of those in authority. If the 
 nation will but mark the unworthy sons whose grasping, selfish, 
 ambition will not even be restrained in hours of direst peril to the 
 cause, and brand them with Mene, Mene, we shall yet teach the 
 world that self-government is feasible." 
 
 " But in Europe, where the subject is eagerly canvassed, the 
 impression obtains that, in the great fundamental principle of our 
 government, will be found the germ of its dissolution. This war 
 is waged to establish the right of Secession, and the doctrine 
 that * all just governments rest on the consent of the governed.^ 
 With such a precedent, it would be worse than stultification to 
 object to the secession of any state or states now constitutrag the 
 Confederacy, who at a future day may choose to withdraw from 
 the present compact. Granting our independence, which Europe 
 regards as a foregone conclusion, what assurance have you (say 
 they, gloating,, in anticipation over the prospect) that, so soon 
 as the common dangers of war, which for a time cemented you so 
 closely are over, entire disintegration will not ensue, and all your 
 boasts end in some dozen anarchical pseudo-republics, like those of 
 South America and Mexico ? Irene, I confess I have a haunting 
 horror of the influence of demagogues on our future. You know 
 Sir Robert Walpolc once said : ' Patriots are very easily raised, 
 
414 macaria; or, 
 
 You have l)ut to refuse an unreasonable request, and up springs 
 a patriot.' I am afraid that disappointed politicians will sow seeds 
 of dissension among us." 
 
 *' Til at is an evil which our legislators must guard against, by- 
 timely proYision. We are now, thank God ! a thoroughly 
 homogeneous people, with no antagonistic systems of labor 
 necessitating conflicting interests. As states, we are completely 
 identified in commerce and agriculture, and no differences need 
 arise. Purified from all connection with the Xorth, and with no 
 vestige of the mischievous element of Xew England Puritanism, 
 which, like other poisonous Mycelium, springs up pertinaciously 
 where even a shred is permitted, w^ can be a prosperous and noble 
 people. Rather than witness our national corruption through 
 the thousand influences which have so often degraded people of 
 vast wealth, I would gladly welcome the iron currency and frugal 
 public tables of Ly<*urgus. One possible source of evil has 
 occurred to me. Unless our planters everywhere become good 
 agricultural chemists, and by a moderate outlay renew their 
 lands every year, the planting interest will gradually drift west- 
 ward, in pursuit of fresh fertile fields, and thus leave such of the east- 
 em states as possess great advantages in the water line to engage 
 in manufactures of various kinds. That negro labor is by no 
 means so profitable in factory as field, seems well estabhshed ; 
 and if this condition of affairs is allowed and encouraged, contra- 
 riety of interests will soon show itself, and demagogues will 
 climb into place by clamoring for ' protection.' Heaven preserve 
 us from following the example of Xew England and Pennsylvana ! 
 But if free-trade is declared, and our pcfrts are thrown open to all 
 the markets of the world, except Lincoludom, the evil will be ar- 
 rested. True, Europe has no love for the Confederacy, and we 
 certainly have as little for trans-Atlantic nations — but the rigid 
 laws of political economy forge links of amity. If our existence 
 as a republic depends upon the perpetuity of the institution of 
 slavery, then, it seems to me, that the aim of our legislators 
 should be to render us 'par excellence an agricultural people — 
 and, with the exception of great national arsenals and workshops, 
 to discourage home manufactories. I hope, too, for an amendment 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 415 
 
 of our constitution, which shall render the members of the cabinet, 
 and all our foreign ministers, subject entirely to the appointment 
 of Congress, and the tenure of the latter class of officials for life 
 or good behaviour, instead of being selected by the President, as 
 heretofore, for four or six years. To the disgraceful hunt for 
 office is to be attributed much of the acrimony of party feelin;^ 
 which characterizes presidential campaigns. When our Presi- 
 dents are selected and supported solely for their intrinsic abilit \- 
 and nobility t)f soul, instead of for the places they will confer on 
 their party, we shall begin to seek out our Cincinnatus and Aratus, 
 and tlie premium for demagogism will be lost. But we have 
 statesmen among us who must see all these evils, aud doubtless 
 they will arrest them in time. We are paying too high a price 
 for our freedom to have it stolen from us in future by unscnipulous 
 political gamesters, who would sacrifice a valuable principle of 
 government in order to secure a foreign appointment." 
 
 " I can not avoid feeling sceptical of the public virtue, when 
 seasons of prosperity and great wealth succeed these years of trial ; 
 and of late, in casting the horoscope of our young Confederacy, 
 I have frequently recalled that fine passage in Montagu's * Reflec- 
 tions on the Rise and Fall of Republics :' ' Greece, once the nurse 
 of arts and sciences, the fruitful mother of philosophers, law-givers, 
 and heroes, now lies prostrate under the iron yoke of ignorance 
 and barbarism Carthage, once the mighty sover- 
 eign of the ocean, and the centre of universal commerce, which 
 poured the riches of all nations into her lap, now puzzles the in- 
 quisitive traveler in his researches after even the vestiges of her 
 
 ruins And Rome, the mistress of the universe, 
 
 which once contained whatever was esteemed great or brilliant 
 in human nature, is now sunk into the ignoble seat of whatever 
 
 is esteemed mean and infamous Should Faction 
 
 again predominate and succeed in its destructive views, and th- 
 dastardly maxims of luxury aud effeminacy universally prevail 
 amongst us, .... such, too, will be the fate of Britain ;' 
 aui I may add of the Confederacy — for where are the safeguards 
 of its public purity ?" 
 
 Electra had finished the bandages, and was walking slowly be- 
 
416 MACARIA ; OR, 
 
 fore tlie windows, and, without looking up from the lint, which 
 she was tying into small packages, Irene answered : 
 
 " The safeguards will be found in the mothers, wives, and sisters 
 of our land." 
 
 " Ah ! but their hands are tied ; and they walk but a short, 
 narrow path, from hearthstone to threshold, and back again. 
 They hare, I know, every inclination to exert a restraining influ- 
 ence, but no power to utilize it. Sometimes I almost fear that 
 the fabled Norse Ragnarok is darkening over this continent. 
 The monsters, Midgard-Serpent, Fenris, and all have certainly 
 been unloosed at the North." 
 
 "Electra, though we are very properly debarred from the 
 * tented-field, I have entire confidence that the cause of our coun- 
 try may be advanced, and its good promoted, through the agency 
 of its daughters ; for, out of the dim historic past come words 
 of encouragement. Have you forgotten that, when Sparta for- 
 sook the stern and sublime simplicity of her ancient manners, 
 King Agis found himself unable to accomplish his scheme of 
 redeeming his degenerate country from avarice and corruption, 
 until the ladies of Sparta gave their consent and support to the 
 plan of reform ? Southern women have no desire to usurp legis- 
 lative reins ; their appropriate work consists in moulding the 
 manners and morals of the nation ; in checking the wild excesses 
 of fashionable life, and the dangerous spirit of extravagance ; of 
 reckless expenditure in dress, furniture, and equipage, which 
 threatened ruinous results before the declaration of hostilities. 
 Noble wives, who properly appreciate the responsibility of their 
 position, should sternly rebuke and frown down the disgraceful- 
 idea, which seems to be gaining ground and favor in our cities, 
 that married women may, with impunity, seek attentions and 
 admiration abroad. Married belles and married beaux are not 
 harmless, nor should they be tolerated in really good society. 
 Women who so far forget their duties to their homes and hus- 
 bands, and the respect due to pubhc opinion, as to habitually 
 seek for happiness in the mad whirl of so-called fashionable life, 
 ignoring household obligations, should be driven from well-bred, 
 refined circles, to hide their degradation at the firesides they have 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 417 
 
 disgraced. That wives should constantly endeavor to cultivate 
 social graces, and render themselves as fascinating as possible, I 
 hold their sacred duty ; but beauty should be preserved, and 
 accomplishments perfected, to bind their husband's hearts more 
 closely, to make their homes attractive instead of being constant- 
 ly paraded before the world for the unholy purpose of securing 
 the attentions and adulation of other gentlemen. I do not desire 
 to see married women recluses ; on the contrary, I believe that 
 society has imperative claims upon them, which should be prompt- 
 ly met, and faithfully and gracefully discharged. But those de- 
 graded wives, who are never seen with then* husbands when they 
 can avoid it — who are never happy unless riding or walking with 
 strangers, or receiving their attentions at theatres, concerts, or 
 parties — are a disgrace to the nation, which they are gradually 
 demoralizing and corrupting. From the influence of these few 
 deluded weak libels on our sex, may God preserve our age and 
 country I They are utterly unworthy the noble work which calls 
 loudly to every true Southern woman. Statesmen are trained up 
 around the mother's arm-chair, and she can imbue the boy with 
 lofty sentiments, and inspire him with aims which, years hence, 
 shall lead him in congressional halls to adhere to principles, to 
 advance the Truth — though, thereby, votes for the next election 
 fall away, hke stricken leaves in autumn. What time has the 
 married belle for this holy hearthstone mission ? The conscien- 
 tious, devoted, and patriotic Christian women of a nation are the 
 safeguards of its liberties and purity." 
 
 "All perfectly true, and very encouraging in the abstract ; 
 but, Irene, how many women do you suppose sit down and ponder 
 their individual responsibility ?" 
 
 " Electra, my friend, are you sure that you do ? Your pro- 
 fession will give you vast influence in forming public taste, and I 
 hope much from its judicious use. Be careful that you select 
 only the highest, purest types to offer to your countrymen and 
 women, when Peace enables us to turn our attention to the great 
 work of building up a noble school of Southern Art. "We want 
 no feeble, sickly sentimentality, nor yet the sombre austerity 
 
 18* 
 
418 MACARIA ; OK, 
 
 which seems to pervade your mind, judging from the works you 
 have shown rae." 
 
 A slight quiver crossed the mobile features of the artist as she 
 bit her full lip, and asked : 
 
 ** What would you pronounce the distinguishing characteristic 
 of my works ? I saw, yesterday, that you were not fully satisfied." 
 
 " A morbid melancholy, which you seem to have fostered ten- 
 derly instead of crushing vigorously. A disposition to dwell upou 
 the stern and gloomy aspects of the physical world, and to inten- 
 sify and reproduce abnormal and unhappy phases of character. 
 Your breezy, sunshiny, joyous moods you have kept under lock 
 and key while in your studio.'^ 
 
 " You are right ; but I merely dipped my brush in the colors 
 of my own life, and if my work is gray, and sad, and shadowy, 
 it is no fault of mine. One who sits at her easel, listening ever to 
 
 " The low footsteps of each coming ill,'' 
 
 should be pardoned if her canvas glows not with gala occasions, 
 
 and radiant faces that have never looked beyond the glittering 
 
 confines of Aladdin's palace. Remember, the * lines' did not fall 
 
 to me * in pleasant places,' and it is not strange that I sometimes 
 
 paint desert, barren scenes, without grapes of Eshcol or Tokay. 
 
 Irene, 
 
 *" . . . Long green days, 
 "Worn bare of grass and sunshine — long calm nights 
 From which the silken sleeps were fretted out — 
 Be witness for me. with no amateur's 
 Irreverent haste and busy idleness 
 I've set myself to Art !'" 
 
 " I admit the truth of your criticism, and I have struggled 
 against the spirit which hovers with cloudhig wings over all that 
 I do ; but the shadow has not lifted — God knows whether it 
 ever will. Do you recollect, among those fine illustrations of 
 Poe's works which we examined yesterday, the dim spectral head 
 and sable pinions brooding mournfully over ' The City in the 
 Sea V Ah I its darkening counterpart flits over me. You have 
 finished your work ; come to my room for a few minutes." 
 
 They went up stairs together ; and as Electra unlocked and 
 
* ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 419 
 
 bent over a large square trunk, her companion noticed a pecu- 
 liar curl about the lines of the mouth, and a heavy scowl on the 
 broad bow. ^■ 
 
 " I want to show you the only bright, shining face I ever 
 painted." 
 
 She unwrapped an oval portrait, placed it on the mantle-piece, 
 and, stej)ping back, fixed her gaze on Irene. She saw a tremor 
 cross the quiet mouth, and for some seconds the sad eyes dwelt 
 upon the picture as if fascinated. 
 
 " It must have been a magnificent portrait of your cousin, 
 years ago ; but he has changed materially since it was painted. 
 He looks much older, sterner, now." 
 
 " Would you have recognized it under any circumstances ?" 
 
 '* Yes — anywhere ; if I had stumbled over it in the dusty 
 crypts of Luxor, or the icy wastes of Siberia. I have never seen 
 but one head that resembled that, or eyes that were in any de- 
 gree comparable." 
 
 " Irene, I value this portrait above everything else save the 
 original ; and, as I may be called to pass through various perils, 
 I want you to take care of it for me until I come back to W — — . 
 It is a precious trust, which I would be willing to leave in no 
 hands but yours." 
 
 " You forget that, before long, I, too, shall go to Virginia." 
 
 " Then pack it away carefully among your old family pictures, 
 where it will be secure. I left my large and best paintings in 
 Italy, with aunt Ruth, who promised to preserve and send them 
 to me as soon as the blockade should be raised." 
 
 " Wiiat are Mr. Young's views concerning this war ?" 
 
 " He utterly abhors the party who inaugurated it, and the 
 principles upon which it is waged. Says he will not return to 
 America, at least for the present ; and as soon as he can con- 
 vert his property into money, intends to move to the South.^ He 
 opposed and regretted Secession until he saw the spirit of the 
 Lincoln dynasty, and from that time he acknowledged that all 
 hope of Union or reconstruction was lost. Have you heard any- 
 thing from Harvey since the troubles began ?" 
 
 " It is more than a year since I received a line from him. He 
 
420 MAC ART A ; OE, 
 
 was then still in the West, but made no allusion to the condition 
 of the country." 
 
 '^ Irene, I hope to see Russell soon. You were once dear 
 friends ; have you any message for him — any word of kind re- 
 membrance ?" 
 
 One of Irene's hands glided to her side, but she answered, 
 composedly : 
 
 " He knows that he always has my best wishes ; but will ex- 
 pect no message." 
 
 On the following day Electra started to Richmond, taking 
 with her a large supply of hospital stores, which the ladies of 
 W had contributed. 
 
 Eric had proposed to his niece the expediency of selling the 
 Hill, and becoming an inmate of his snug, tasteful, bachelor 
 home ; but she firmly refused to consent to this plan : said that 
 she would spend her life in the house of her birth ; and it was 
 finally arranged that her uncle should reserve such of the furni- 
 ture as he valued particularly, and offer the residue for sale, with 
 the pretty cottage, to which he was warmly attached. During 
 the remamder of autumn Irene was constantly engaged in super- 
 intending work for the soldiers, in providing for several poor 
 families in whom she was much interested, and in frequent visits 
 to the plantation, where she found more than enough to occupy 
 her mind ; and Eric often wondered at the admirable system and 
 punctuality she displayed — at the grave composure with which 
 she discharged her daily duties, and the invariable reticence she 
 observed with regard to her past life. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 " Did you ring, Mas' Eric ?" 
 
 " Yes. Has Irene come home ?" 
 
 " Not yet, sir." 
 
 " Bring some more wood." 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 
 
 421 
 
 Ovv'inc^ to the scarcity of coal, the grate had been removed, 
 and massive brass andirons substituted. John piled them with 
 oak wood, swept the hearth, and retired. It was a cold evening ; 
 there had been sleet the night before ; the trees were glittering 
 with icicles ; but in the afternoon the sky cleared, and a sharp 
 north-wester promised good weather. Eric drew the sofa nearer 
 the blazing fire, and laid himself down to rest— waiting im- 
 patiently for the return of his niece, who had been absent since 
 dinner. The library looked cheerful, comfortable, luxurious. 
 Irene's pretty work-basket sat on the little mosaic table, close to 
 the hearth ; and by its side lay a volume of Tennyson opened at 
 " Locksley Hall," with a half- finished glove which she had been 
 knitting that morning resting on the page. Upon the low man- 
 tle-piece stood two ruby-colored bulb-glasses, containing purple 
 hyacinths in full bloom ; between them a fluted crystal vase of 
 perfect white camellias from the green-house ; and in a rich bo- 
 hemian goblet three early golden crocuses looked out from a mass 
 of geranium leaves. Bronze busts of Kepler, Herschel, and La 
 Place crowned the heavy carved bookcases ; the soft, silvery 
 glow of the lamp fell upon the form of the cripple, wrapped in a 
 warm plaid dressing-gown, and showed the thin, sharply-cut vis- 
 age of Paragon, who had curled himself lazily on the velvet rog. 
 The room was very still, save the sound of the crackling fire and 
 the chirping of the canary, whose cage had been placed on one 
 of the broad window-sills. After a time, the door opened and 
 the mistress came in. 
 
 *' Irene I you must be nearly frozen. What kept you out so 
 
 late ?" 
 
 " I had more than usual to attend to at the Asylum this 
 
 afternoon." 
 
 •' What was the matter ?" 
 
 " We have a new Matron, and I was particularly anxious that 
 she should start right in one or two respects. I waited, too, 
 in order to see the children at supper, cftid satisfy myself about 
 the cooking." 
 
 " How many orphans are there in the Asylum ?" 
 
 "Thirty-four. I admitted two this evening— children of 
 
4»32 MACAKIA ; OR, 
 
 one of our soldiers, who died from a wound received at Lees- 
 burg." 
 
 ** Poor little things ! I am afraid you will fiud numbers of 
 similar instances before this war is at an end." 
 
 " We will try to find room for all such cases. The building 
 will accommodate one hundred." * 
 
 " You must be very cold ; I will make John bring you a 
 glass of wine." 
 
 " No, sir ; I do not need it. My shawl was thick and 
 wai-m." 
 
 Resting his elbow on the silken cushions, her uncle leaned for- 
 ward so as to see her countenance distinctly. She had put out 
 one hand on the shining head of her dog, who now sat close to 
 her chair, gazing solemnly into the red coals ; and her posture, 
 as she rested far back against the morocco lining, betokened 
 weariness. By contrast with the thick folds of her bombazine 
 dress, the face gleamed singularly white, and the curling brown 
 lashes made fringy shadows on the polished cheeks. 
 
 ** Irene." 
 
 Siie turned her head shglitly, and raised her eyes. 
 
 " Did you receive a letter which I sent to your room ?" 
 * " Yes, sir. It was from Dr. Arnold." 
 
 " He has established himself in Richmond." 
 
 " Yes, sir : his recent attack of rheumatism unfitted him for 
 service in the field." 
 
 " I had a letter from Colonel Aubrey to-day. He wants to 
 buy my house." 
 
 She made no comment, and her eyes drooped again to the 
 perusal of the strange shapes which danced and flickered on the 
 burnished andirons. 
 
 " "What use do you suppose he has for it ?" 
 
 " I cannot imagine, unless he intends it as a home for Electra." 
 
 " What a witch you are at guessing ; that is exactly it. He 
 says, in this letter, thaf he may not survive the war, and wishes 
 to have the assurance that his cousin is comfortably provided for 
 before he goes into another battle. His offer is liberal, and I 
 shall accept it." 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 423 
 
 " Well, I am glad she will own it — for I have often heard her 
 speak of those old poplar trees in the front yard. She has 
 always admired the place." 
 
 " I trust Aubrey will come back safely, marry some woman 
 w^orthy of his heart and intellect, and live there happily himself. 
 Do you believe the current report that he is engaged to Salome ?" 
 
 " No, sir." 
 
 " Why not ? She is certainly a brilliant girl, and an undoubt- 
 ed beauty." 
 
 " Such a temperament as hers would scarcely suit him, I 
 think." 
 
 " But people often select their opposites." 
 
 '' And ffJi' that reason I suspect that she would not make him 
 happy. What a glowing beauty she is? As I went to the 
 Asylum I saw her riding with some gentlemen, and I felt as if I 
 could w^arm my fingers by holding them near her burning cheeks. 
 Such complexions as hers are very rare at the South." 
 
 " I should not wonder if Kussell married her, after all." 
 
 He hoped for some change of countenance implying concern, 
 but no shadow hovered over the fair face. There Avas no uneasy 
 movement of the dimpled hand which lay on Paragon's head, nor 
 could he detect the faintest indication of interest. At this junc- 
 ture the tea-bell summoned them to the dining-room, and she al- 
 lowed her uncle no opportunity of renewing the conversation. 
 When the meal was concluded, and they had returned to the 
 library, Irene drew her table and basket near the lamp, and re- 
 sumed her knitting. The invalid frowned, and asked, impa- 
 tiently : 
 
 " Can't you buy as many of those coarse things as you want, 
 without toiling night and, day V" 
 
 " In the first place, I do not toil ; knitting is purely mechan- 
 ical, very easy, and I like it. In the second place, I can not buy 
 them, and our men need them when they are standing guard. It 
 is cold work holding a musket in the open air, such weather as 
 this." 
 
 He looked annoyed, and dived deeper among his cushions. 
 
 *' Don't you feel as well as usual this evening, uncle Eric ?^ 
 
424: MACARTA ; OR, 
 
 *' Oh I I am well enough — but I hate the everlasting motion 
 of those steel needles." 
 
 She rolled up the glove, put it in her basket, and rose. 
 
 " Shall I read to you ? Or, how would yon like a game of 
 chess ?" 
 
 *' I do not expect you to humor my whims. Above all things, 
 my child, I dread the thought of becoming troublesome to you," 
 
 " You can never be that, uncle Eric ; and I shall always be 
 glad if you will tell me how I can make your time pass more 
 pleasantly. I know this house must seem gloomy enough at best. 
 Let us try a game of chess ; we have not played since you came 
 from Europe." 
 
 She brought the board, and the^ sat down to the most quiet 
 and absorbing of all games. Both played well, and when Eric 
 was finally vanquished, he was surprised to find, from the hands 
 of the clock, that the game had lasted nearly two hours. As 
 she carefully replaced the ivory combatants in their box, Irene 
 said : 
 
 " Uncle, you know that I have long desired and intended to 
 go to Richmond, but various circumstances combined to keep me 
 at home. I felt that I had duties here which must first be dis- 
 charged ; now the time has come when I can accomplish my 
 long-cherished plan. Dr. Arnold has taken charge of the hospi- 
 tal in Richmond which was established with the money we sent 
 
 from W for the relief of our regiments. Mrs. Campbell 
 
 is about to t)e installed as Matron, and I have to-day decided to 
 join them. In his letter received this afternoon he orders me not 
 to come, but I know that he will give me a ward when he finds 
 me at his elbow. I am aware that you have always opposed 
 this project, but I hope, sir, that you will waive your objections, 
 and go on with me next week." 
 
 " It is a strange and unreasonable freak, which, I must say, I 
 do not approve of. There are plenty of nurses to be hired, who 
 have more experience, and are every way far more suitable for 
 such positions." 
 
 " Uncle, the men in our armies are not hired to fight our bat- 
 tles ; and the least the women of the land can do is to nurse them 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFrCE. 425 
 
 when sick or wounded. The call is imperative. Mothers and wives 
 are, in most instances, kept at home ; but I have nothing to bind 
 me here. I have no ties to prevent me from giving my services in 
 the only way in which I can aid the cause for which my father 
 died. I feel it a sacred duty ; and, uncle Eric, it is useless to 
 argue the matter. I am determined to go at once. Will you 
 accompany me ?'' 
 
 " You will kill yourself." 
 
 " I could not die in a better cause." 
 
 " Is life 60 worthless, that you would rashly throw it away ?" 
 
 " By no means. I am able to endure what I undertake." 
 
 " Does not one querulous invalid cripple sufficiently exercise 
 your patience ?" * . 
 
 " Xo, sir. Beside, I can take care of you in Richmond, as 
 well as of others, who need me much more." 
 
 " What do you propose to do with the house, meantime ?" 
 
 " I shall send the horses to the plantation, and take Andrew 
 with me ; he is an admirable nurse. Martha, also, whom I have 
 tested on several occasions, can assist me greatly in the hospital. 
 The other servants I shall leave here. John and Xellie will keep 
 things in order. I have endeavored to foresee and remove all 
 obstacles to my departure." 
 
 " Ah ! but you have been so delicately nurtured, and the 
 burden you would take upon yourself is so onorous." 
 
 " I have counted the cost." 
 
 She laid her hand gently on his whitening hair, and added, 
 pleadingly : 
 
 " Do not oppose me, uncle Eric. I want your sanction in all 
 that I do. Tliere are only two of us left ; go with me as my 
 adviser— protector. I could not be happy if you were not with 
 me." 
 
 His eyes filled instantly, and drawing her close to hun, he ex- 
 claimed, tremulously : 
 
 " My dear Irene I there is nothing I would not do to make 
 you happy. Happy I fear you never will be. Ah I don't smile 
 and contradict me ; I know the difference between happiness and 
 resignation. Patience, uncomplaining endurance, never yet stole 
 
426 macaria; or, 
 
 the garments of joy. I will go with you to Yirginia, or anywhere 
 else that you wish." 
 
 " Thank you, uncle Eric. I will try to make you forget the 
 comforts of home, and give you no reason to regret that you 
 sacriticed your wishes and judgment to mine. I must not keep 
 you up any later." 
 
 She rang for Willis, and, taking a taper from the stand, 
 proceeded to light the small lamp which had been placed in 
 readiness on the table. With its use her uncle had long been 
 familiar. 
 
 " You surely are not going up to that ice-house such a night 
 as this ? That marble floor will freeze you !" 
 
 " I shall not stay long. It is the first clear night we have had 
 for more than a week, and I can not lose such an opportunity. 
 The nebula in Orion will show splendidly, and, 
 
 '* ' The Pleiads rising through the mellow bhade, 
 Glitter like a swarm of fire-flies tangled in a silver braid.' " 
 
 " What a devotee you are ! What a bigot you would have 
 been five hundred years ago 1 What a tireless Rosicrucian you 
 would have made ! What an indefatigable traveler after my- 
 thic Sangraal ! You very often remind me of an aphorism of 
 Emerson : * Xo man is quite sane ; each has a vein of folly in 
 his composition, a slight determination of blood to the head, to 
 make sure of holding him hard to some one point which nature 
 has taken to heart.' " 
 
 " I am no more insane than Emerson is orthodox or infallible, 
 and a mild form of Sabeism ought to be tolerated even in this 
 age, when it is used as a glittering ladder to God, to purity and 
 to peace. Here I am continually oppressed with a sense of 
 desolation ; as I walk these silent rooms, Father ! Father ! 
 is the cry of my lonely soul. But yonder I forget my loss. 
 In the observatory my griefs slip from me, as did Christian's 
 burden. I remember only the immeasurable heights and depths, 
 the infinitude, the grandeur, and the glory of the universe — 
 and there, as no where else, I can bow myself down, and say, 
 humbly and truly, * Not my will, oh, God I but thine !' Good- 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. f^^^^Sf^ "^^^ 
 
 night, unele Eric. "Willis, shut Paragon in his house before you 
 go to sleep." 
 
 She wrapped a heavy black shawl arouud her shoulders, and 
 taking the lamp went up to the observatory. 
 
 The army of the Potomac had fallen back to Yorktown when 
 Irene reached Richmond ; and the preparations which were being 
 made for the reception of the wounded gave melancholy premo- 
 uitiort of impending battles. 
 
 Dr. Arnold had been intrusted with the supervision of several 
 hospitals, but gave special attention to one established with the 
 
 funds contributed by the citizens of W , and thither Irene 
 
 repaired on the day of her arrival. 
 
 In reply to her inquiries, she was directed to a small room, 
 and found the physician seated at a table, examining a bundle of 
 papers. He saw only a form darkening the door-way, and, with- 
 out looking up, called out, gruffly : 
 
 " Well, what is it ? What do you want V 
 
 " A word of welcome." 
 
 He sprang to his feet instantly, holding out both hands. 
 
 "Dear child I Queen! God bless you! How are you ? 
 Pale as a cloud, and thin as a shadow. What the deuce are you 
 doing here ? I ordered you to stay at home, did n't I ?" 
 
 He had caught her hands eagerly to his lips, and held them 
 like a vice. 
 
 " Home was too dreary. I wanted to see you, to be with you 
 once more, to work here in your sight, by your direction. Don't 
 scold and growl at me for coming. Give me a morsel of aflfec- 
 tion ; oh, Doctor ! I am hungry ! hungry and desolate." 
 
 She lifted her sorrow-stricken face to his, and felt his tears fiUl 
 thick on her silky hair. 
 
 " Dear child 1 I knew how it would be. I wanted to go 
 to you, but I could not. Irene, don't look so dreary and hope- 
 less ; it wrings my heart to see that expression on your mouth. 
 You know I am glad to have you, my treasure, my beloved 
 child. You know that you are the very light of my life. Growl 
 at you, Queen ! I will see myself hanged first I Sit down here 
 by me. Where is Eric ?" 
 
428 MAC ART A ; OR, 
 
 " He was much fatigued, and I left him at the hotel.'' 
 
 " You have been i!) a long time, Irene, and have kept it from 
 me. That was not right ; you should have been honest in your 
 letters. A pretty figure you will cut nursing sick folks ! Work 
 in my sight, indeed ! If you say work to me again, I will clap 
 you into a lunatic-asylum and keep you there till the war is over. 
 Turn your face to the light." 
 
 " I am well enough in body ; it is my mind only that is ill at 
 ease ; my heart only that is sick — sorely sick. Here I shall find 
 employment, and, I trust, partial forgetfulness. Put me to work 
 at once ; that will be my best medicine." 
 
 '' And you really missed me. Queen ?" 
 
 " Yes, inexpressibly ; I felt my need of you continually. You 
 must know how I cling to you now." 
 
 Again he drew her little hands to his granite mouth, and seem- 
 ed to muse for a moment. 
 
 " Doctor, how is Electra ?" 
 
 " Very well — that is, as well as such an anomalous, volcanic, 
 torrid character ought to be. At first she puzzled me (and that 
 is an insult I find it hard to forgive), but finally I found the 
 clew. She is indefatigable and astonishingly faithful as a nurse ; 
 does all her duty, and more, which is saying a good deal — for I 
 am a hard task-master. Are n't you afraid that I will work you 
 more unmercifully than a Yankee factory-child, or a Cornwall 
 miner ? See here. Queen ; what do you suppose brought Elec- 
 tra to Hichmond ?" 
 
 " A desire to render some service to the sick and suffering, and 
 also to be comparatively near her cousin." 
 
 " Precisely ; only the last should be first, and the first last. 
 Kussell is a perverse, ungrateful dog." 
 
 As he expected, she glanced up at him, but refrained from 
 comment. 
 
 " Yes, Irene — he is a soulless scamp. Here is his cousin en- 
 tirely devoted to him, loving him above everything else in this 
 world, and yet he has not even paid her a visit, except in pass- 
 ing through to Yorktown with his command. He might be a 
 happy man, if he would but open his eyes and see what Is as 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. ' " 429 
 
 plain as tlic nose on my face — which, yon .app^ ^.,mit .equires 
 no microscope. She is a gifted woman^vlla .rould buit him ex- 
 actly — even better than my salamander,' {5alome." 
 
 A startled, incredulous expression came into Irene's large eyes, 
 and gradually a look of keen pain settled on her features. 
 
 " Aha I did that idea never occur to you before ?" 
 
 " Never, sir ; and you must be mistaken." 
 
 '* Why, child ? The fact is patent. You women profess to 
 be so quick-witted, too, in such matters — I am amazed at your 
 obtuseness. She idolizes Aubrey." 
 
 " It is scarcely strange that she should ; she has no other re- 
 latives near her, and it is natural that she should love her cousin;" 
 
 " I tell you I know what I say .! she will never love anybody 
 else as she loves Aubrey. Beside, what is it to you whether he 
 marries her or not ?" 
 
 *' I feel attached to her, and want to see her happy." 
 
 " As Russeirs wife ?" 
 
 " No, sir. The marriage of cousins was always revolting to 
 me." 
 
 She did not flinch from his glittering gray eye, and her grieved 
 look deepened. 
 
 " Is she here ? Can I see her ?" 
 
 " She is not in this building, but I will inform her of your ar- 
 rival. I have become much interested in her. She is a brilliant, 
 erratic creature, and has a soul ! which can not safely be predi- 
 cated of all the sex, now-aday. Where are you going ?" 
 
 " Back to uncle Eric. Will you put me in the same hospital 
 with Electra and Mrs. Campbell ?" 
 
 '* I will put you in a strait-jacket ! I promise you that." 
 
 Electra was agreeably surprised at the unusual warmth with 
 which Irene received her, some hours later ; but little suspected 
 why the lips lingered in their pressure of hers, or understood the 
 wistful tenderness of the eyes which dwelt so fondly on her face. 
 The icy wall of reserve had suddenly melted, as if in the breath 
 of an August noon, and dripped silently down among things long 
 past. Russell's name was casually mentioned more than once, 
 and Electra fell asleep that night wholly unconscious that the 
 
430 "J^ll^^ MACABIA ; OB, 
 
 
 torn anocrumpled pages of her heart had been thoroughly pe- 
 rused by the woman from whom she was most anxious to con- 
 ceal the truth. 
 
 Having engaged a suite of rooms near the hospital, a few days 
 sufficed for preliminary arrangements, and Irene was installed in 
 a ward of the building to which she had requested Dr. Arnold 
 to appoint her. 
 
 Thus, by different, by devious thorny paths, two sorrowing 
 women emerged upon the broad highway of Duty, and, clasping 
 liands, pressed forward to the divinely-appointed goal — Woman- 
 ly Usefulness. 
 
 Only those who have faithfully ministered in a hospital, can 
 fully appreciate the onerous nj^ture of the burdens thus assumed 
 — can realize the crushing anxiety, the sleepless apprehension, 
 the ceaseless tension of brain and nerve, the gflawing, intolerable 
 sickness and aching of heart over sufferings which no human 
 skill can assuage ; and the silent blistering tears which are shed 
 over corpses of men whose families kneel in far distant homes, 
 praying God's mercy on dear ones lying at that moment stark 
 and cold on hospital cots with strangers' hands about the loved 
 limbs. Ah ! within these mournful penetralia are perpetually 
 recurring scenes of woe, of resignation, and of sublime endurance, 
 transcending in pathos aught that fiction ever painted ; and as 
 the Nation's martyrs drop swiftly down into nameless billowy 
 graves, that fret the quiet green surface of our broad and sunny 
 land, the bleeding tendrils of a Nation's sympathy trail athwart 
 the rude head- stones, and from stern lips come the prophecy : 
 
 " Let them slumber ! 
 
 No king of Egypt in a pyramid 
 
 Is safer from oblivion, though he number 
 
 Full seventy cerements for a coverlid. 
 
 These Dead be seeds of life, and shall encumber 
 
 The sad heart of the land until it loose 
 
 The clammy clods and let out the spring growth 
 
 In beatic green through every bruise. 
 
 Each grave our nationality has pierced 
 
 By its own majestic breadth, and fortified 
 
 And pinned it deeper to the soil. Forlorn 
 
 Of thanks, be therefore, no one of these graves !" 
 
ALTAK8 OF SACRIFICE. \^ 431 
 
 Day by day, week after week, those tireless womcn-\Yaichers 
 walked the painful round from patient to patient, administering 
 food and medicine to diseased bodief?, and^words of hope and en- 
 couragement to souls, who shrank not from the glare, and roar, 
 and carnage of battle — but shivered and cowered before the dar- 
 ling images which deathless memory called from the peaceful, 
 happy Past. It was not wonderful that the home-sick sufferers 
 regarded them with emotions which trenched on adoration, or 
 that often, when the pale thin faces lighted with a smile of joy 
 at their approach, Irene and Electra felt that they had a price- 
 less reward. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIY. 
 
 ** Mother, I did not flinch ! They shot the flag out of my 
 hand, and I bathed it with my blood when I fell on it. Here is 
 the staff — I held on to the very last. Don't you see it, mother, 
 all smeared and clotted with blood ?" 
 
 Raving with delirium, a light-haired, slender boy of seventeen 
 summers struggled to rise from his cot, and, grasping a corner 
 of the calico quilt, stretched it toward Irene, who sat a few 
 yards off, spreading a blister. Laying aside the ointment, she 
 approached, and took the extended hand. 
 
 " Yes, Willie, I see it ; and I know you did your duty. I 
 will take care of the staff for you ; now go to sleep." 
 
 " I can't sleep ; the din of the cannon wakes me. I want to 
 go home. Mother, why don't you carry me to my own room, 
 my own bed, where I can see Harry, and hear Jessie sing ? 
 Help me to my feet, mother ; I promised to make a new flag- 
 staff." 
 
 His fair, smooth cheeks were flushed with fever from the 
 wound received at the battle of Seven Pines, and his beautiful, 
 dilated eyes gleamed unnaturally, as he gazed appealingly at the 
 tall form standing at his pillow — an elegant, queenly form, clad 
 
432 , MACARIA ; OE, 
 
 in mourning vestments, with spotless linen cuffs and collar, and 
 white muslin apron. 
 
 She placed her pearly hand on his hot brow, and bent tender- 
 ly over him. 
 
 " ]N'ot to-night, Willie. When you are stronger I will carry 
 you to Harry and Jessie. Kow you must try to sleep." 
 
 " You'll stay by me, mother, if I shut my eyes ?-' 
 
 " Yes. I will not leave you." 
 
 He smiled contentedly ; and while her cold fingers wandered 
 soothingly over his forehead, the long lashes fell upon his cheeks, 
 and in delirious dreaming he muttered on of the conflict and in- 
 cidents of carnage. From his entrance into the hospital he had 
 fancied her his mother, and she fostered the only illusion which 
 could gild the fleeting hours of his young life. His deeds of 
 daring had won honorable mention from the Ifrigade commander, 
 and Irene had written to his mother, in a distant state, detailinsr 
 the circumstances, and urging her to hasten to him. But to- 
 night the symptoms showed that, ere the dawning of another day, 
 the brave spirit would desert its boyish prison. 
 
 " Give me some water, please." 
 
 The feeble voice came from an adjoining cot, where lay an 
 emaciated, wrinkled old man, with gray hair straying over the 
 pillows that propped him into an almost upright posture. She 
 put the glass to his trembling lips, and, as he drained it, tears 
 trickled down the furrowed face. 
 
 " What distresses you, Mr. Wheeler ? Tell me, won't 
 you ?" 
 
 " I am about to die, and I long so for the face of my wife. If 
 I could have seen her again, it would not seem so hard. It is 
 easy to die on the battle-field, and I expected that when I left 
 home ; but to sicken and die in a hospital, away from my family 
 and my comrades — oh I this is bitter I bitter ! You have been 
 kind to me — as gentle and good as my own daughter Mary 
 could have been- — and, if you please, I would like to send some 
 messages to my people at home. You have written for me 
 once — will you do it again — and for the last time ?" 
 
 " Certainly, just as often as you like." 
 
ALTAK3 OF SACRIFICE. 433 
 
 She gave him a powerful stimulant ; brought her port-folio to 
 the side of the cot, and wrote at his dictation. 
 
 " Tell my wife I had hoped and prayed to be spared to get 
 home once more, but it was n't the will of God, and I trust she 
 will try to bear up like a Christian. I am not afraid to die ; I 
 have done my duty to my God and to ray country ; and though 
 my heart clings to my dear ones, way down in Mississippi, I 
 know I am going home to rest. Tell her she must not grieve for 
 our brave boy, Joe ; he died as a Confederate soldier should. I 
 buried him where he fell, and we will soon meet where battles and 
 separation are unknown. I want Mary and her children to live 
 at home, and if Edward lives through the war, he will provide 
 for all. I want my watch given to my oldest grandson, Calvin, 
 as soon as he is of age. I send my love to all, and especially to 
 my poor sister Emily. I send a kiss to Mary and her children, 
 and to my dear, dear wife, whom I hope to meet soon in hea- 
 ven. May God bless and preserve them all, for Jesus Christ's 
 sake." 
 
 His voice was weak and unsteady, and his breathing rapid, 
 short, labored. 
 
 As she folded the letter and closed the port-folio the surgeon 
 entered, and went slowly from patient to patient — speaking gently 
 to some, and feeling cautiously at the wrists of others who slept. 
 At the two last cots he lingered long, and his benevolent face 
 saddened as he noted the change that a few hours had wrought. 
 
 " Dr. Whitmore, I have been giving Mr. Wheeler strong egg- 
 nog this afternoon." 
 
 " All perfectly right, and let him have the ammonia as often 
 as his pulse indicates need of it." 
 
 He sighed heavily, and she followed him into the passage. 
 
 " After all, Miss Huntingdon, we shall lose them both. I had 
 such strong hope of young Walton yesterday ; but it is of no use ; 
 he will not live till morning. Poor fellow ! It is too bad ! too bad V 
 
 " Can we do nothing more ?" 
 
 " Nothing. I have racked my brain, exhausted my remedies. 
 Wheeler, too, is sinking very rapidly, and you must stimulate 
 hhn constantly. These typhoid-pneumonia cases are dishearteu- 
 
 19 
 
434: MACARIA ; OR, 
 
 ing. By the way, you are over-taxing your strength. Let me 
 send Martha down here to relieve you to-night. For forty-eight 
 hours you have not closed your eyes. Take some rest to-night ; 
 your presence can do no good now." 
 
 " I prefer to remain ; how are the cases up-stairs ?" 
 
 ''Doing. finely, except Moorhouse ; and I have strong faith 
 in his constitution. I shall sit up with him to-night, to watch 
 the effect of the veratrum. God bless you, Miss Irene, you 
 have a melancholy watch before you." 
 
 As she returned to her post, Andrew came in with a pitcher 
 of ice-water ; and after creeping across the room several times, 
 arranging the covering on the cots, he unrolled his blankets on 
 the floor, and laid himself dowu to sleep, within reach of his 
 mistress' hand. 
 
 It was a long, low, rather narrow room, lined with rows of 
 cots, which stretched on either side to the door, now left open 
 to admit free circulation of air. A muffled clock ticked on the 
 mantle-piece. Two soldiers, who had been permitted to visit 
 their sick comrades, slumbered heavily — one with head drooped 
 on his chest, the other with chair tilted against the window-facing, 
 and dark-bearded face thrown back. The quivering flame of the 
 candle gleamed fitfully along the line of features — some youthful, 
 almost childish ; others bearing the impress of accumulated years ; 
 some crimsoned with fever, others wan and glistening with the 
 dew of exhaustion ; here a forehead bent and lowering, as in 
 fancy the sleeper lived over the clash and shock of battle ; and 
 there a tremulous smile, lighting the stern manly mouth, as the 
 dreamer heard again the welcome bay of watch-dog on the door- 
 step at home, and saw once more the loved forms of wife and 
 children springing joyfully from the cheery fireside to meet his 
 outstretched arms. A few tossed restlessly, and frequent incohe- 
 rent mutterings wandered, waif-like, up and down the room, 
 sometimes rousing Andrew, who once or twice lifted his head to 
 listen, and then sank back to slumber. 
 
 Before a small pine table, where stood numerous vials, Irene 
 drew her chair, and leaning forward, opened her pocket-bible, 
 and rested her head on her hand. 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 435 
 
 She heard the painful breathing of the old man, who had fallen 
 into a heavy stupor, and as she sat reading iier hand stole to his 
 feeble pulse, pausing to count its fluttering. Twice she rose, 
 administered the stimulants, and renewed the bottles at his feet, 
 the mustard on his wasted wrists. Taking tiie skeleton hand in 
 hers, she chafed it vigorously ; but sixty-three years had worn 
 away the bonds of flesh, and the soul was near its exodus. Sor- 
 rowfully she watched the sharpening features, which five weeks 
 of nursing had rendered singularly familiar ; and as she thought 
 of the aged wife to be widowed, and the daughter orphaned, 
 memories of her own father's kisses stirred the great depths of 
 her spirit, and tears gathered in her calm eyes. 
 
 "Ha I ha ! ha I They will never get to Richmond I John- 
 ston is down there — and Longstreet is there — and our regiment is 
 there I Johnston is between them and Richmond — ha 1 ha !" 
 
 The wounded boy started up, twirling one arm, as if in the act 
 of cheering, and then fell back, groaning with pain which the 
 violent effort cost him. 
 
 Irene stooped over him, and softly unbuttoning hJs shirt-collar, 
 removed the hot bloody cloths from his lacerated shoulder, and 
 replaced them with fresh folds of linen, cold and dripping. She 
 poured out a glass of water and lifted his head, but he frowned, 
 and exclaimed : 
 
 " I won't have it in a tumbler. Mother, make Harry bring 
 me a gourdful fresh from the spring. I say — send Buddie for 
 some." 
 
 She humored the whim, walked out of the room, and paused 
 in the passage. As she did so, a dark form glided unperceived 
 into a dim corner, and when she re-entered the room with the 
 gourd of water the figure passed through the hall-door out into 
 the night. 
 
 " Here is your gourd, Willie, fresh and cold." 
 
 He swallowed the draught eagerly, and his handsome face 
 wore a touching expression as he smiled and whispered : 
 
 " Hush ! Jessie is singing nuder the old magnolia down by the 
 spring. Listen ! ' Fairy Belle I' We used to sing that m camp ; 
 but nobody sings like Jessie. So sweet I so sweet 1" 
 
436 MACAEIA ; OR, 
 
 He set his teeth hard, and shuddered violently ; and takmg 
 his fingers in hers, she found them clinched. 
 
 " Andrew !" 
 
 " Here I am, Miss Irene." 
 
 " Go up stairs and ask the doctor to come here." 
 
 The surgeon came promptly. 
 
 " I am afraid he is going into convulsions. What shall I do 
 for him ?" 
 
 *' Yes — just what I have been trying to guard against. I 
 fear nothing will do any good ; but you might try that mixture 
 which acted like a charm on Leavans." 
 
 '* Here is the bottle ; how much shall I give ?" 
 
 " A spoonful every half hour while the convulsions last. If 
 he can swallow it ; it can't possibly do any harm, and may ease 
 his suffering. Poor fellow I may the vengeance of a righteous 
 God seek out his murderer ! I would stay here with you; ^liss 
 Huntingdon, if I could render any service. As it is, I am more 
 needed up-stairs." 
 
 The paroxysms were short, but so severe that occasionally she 
 rcfpiired Andrew's assistance, to hold the sufferer on his cot, and 
 as they grew less frequent, she saw that his strength failed 
 rapidly. Finally he fell into a troubled sleep, with one hand 
 clutching her arm. 
 
 Nearly an hour passed thus, and the nurse knelt softly beside 
 her charge, and prayed long and fervently that the soul of the 
 young martyr might find its home with God, and that his far-off 
 mourning mother might be strengthened to bear this heavy bur- 
 den of woe. There, in the shadow of death, the woman's spirit 
 soared far from sin and sorrow, from the stormy shores of Time, 
 and held holy communion with her Maker — pleading for aid, for 
 grace, and resignation through the remaining years of her earthly 
 pilgrimage. 
 
 As she knelt with her face up-turned, a soft warm palm was 
 laid upon her forehead, and a low, sweet, manly voice pronounced 
 in benediction : 
 
 " May the Lord bless you, Irene, and abundantly answer all 
 your prayers." 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 437 
 
 She ropc quickly, ami put out licr diseufraG^cd liand. 
 
 *' Oil, Harvey ! dear friend ! Thank God, I have found you 
 once more." 
 
 He lifted the candle and held it near her face, scanning the 
 sculptured features ; then stooped and kissed her white cheek. 
 
 " I felt that I could not be mistaken. I heard our soldiers 
 blessing a pale woman in black, with large eyes bluer than sum- 
 mer skies, and hair that shone like rays of a setting-sun ; and I 
 knew the silent, gentle, tireless watcher, before they told her name. 
 For many years I have prayed that you might become an instru- 
 ment of good to your fellow-creatures, and to-night I rejoice to 
 find you, at last, an earnest coworker." 
 
 " Where have you been this long time, Harvey ? And how 
 is it that you wear a Confederate uniform ?" 
 
 " I am chaplain in a Texas regiment, and have been with the 
 army from the beginning of these days of blood. At first it was 
 a painful step for me ; my affections, my associations, the hal- 
 lowed reminiscences of my boyhood, all linked my heart with 
 Xew York. My relatives and friends were there, and I knew 
 not how many of them I might meet among tlic war-wolves that 
 hung in hungry-herds along the borders of the South. Moreover, 
 I loved and revered the Union — had been taught to regard it a** 
 the synonyme of national prosperity. Secession I opposed and 
 regretted at the time as unwise ; but to the dogma of consoli- 
 dated government I could yield no obedience ; and when every 
 sacred constitutional barrier had been swept away by Lincoln — 
 when the habeas corpus was abolished, and freedom of speech 
 and press denied — when the Washington conclave essayed to co- 
 erce freemen, to ' crush Secession' through the agency of the 
 sword and cannon — then I swore allegiance to the * Seven 
 States' where all of republican liberty remained. The fierce and 
 unholy spirit of the North appalled and disgusted me. I felt 
 that I could have no connection with a peop'e who madly plunged 
 into a fratricidal war, who goaded their soldiers to rapine, to the 
 massacre of women and children, and who left no means untried 
 to mflict upon the Cotton-States all the unparalleled horrors of a 
 servile insurrection. The billows of innocent blood which their 
 
438 MACARIA ; OR, 
 
 fury shed, surged between us, as an everlasting gulf. As Ruth 
 to Naomi, so I turned fondly to the fair free land of my adop- 
 tion and her devoted sons : ' Thy people shall be my people, and 
 thy God my God. Where thou diest I will die, and there will 
 I be buried." Though I look upon my mother's face no more 
 in this world, and for ever resign the consolation of my father's 
 blessing and my sister's smile, I shall never see New York again. 
 My step has j^assed away from the homestead — my shadow from 
 the dear old hearthstone. Henceforth my home is with the 
 -S^uth ; my hopes and destiny hers ; her sorrows and struggles 
 mine." 
 
 His white, scholarly hands were sunburnt now ; his bronzed 
 complexion, and long, untrimmed hair and beard gave a grim, 
 grizzled aspect to the noble face ; and the worn and faded uni- . 
 form showed an acquaintance with the positive hardships and ex- 
 posure of an active campaign. 
 
 " I expected nothing less from you, my brother. I felt that 
 our holy cause must claim your sympathy and support ; and I 
 am proud, and inexpressibly happy, to find you in our matchless 
 and devoted army. You were dear to me before ; but, ah, Har- 
 vey I how much dearer now in these dark days of trial, which 
 you have voluntarily chosen to share, with a young, brave, strug- 
 gling Nation 1" 
 
 His eyes dwelt upon her face as she looked gladly at him, and 
 over her waving hair his hands passed tenderly, as they had 
 done long years before, when she was an invalid in his father's 
 house. 
 
 " You have found your work, and learned contentment in use- 
 fulness, since that Spring day on which we talked together, in 
 the shadow of the wild cherry tree. Irene, the peaceful look of 
 your childhood has come back to your face." 
 
 " Yes, thanks to your guidance, I have found employment for 
 head and hands ; but my heart is not conquered. I have yet to 
 learn patient, perfect resignation," 
 
 " You ought to be grateful and happy for the good you are 
 accomplishing every day. I hear much of the influence you ex- 
 ert here ; your name is constantly on the lips of many a conval- 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 439 
 
 escent ; and in the dead of uight, in the deep hush of carap, I 
 have listened to a fervent, tearful petition ascending to the Throne 
 o-f Grace from an elderly man, who told me he had not prayed 
 since his childhood, till you knelt beside his cot iiere and asked 
 tjrod to spare his life to his country and his family. Does not 
 such blessed fruitage content you ?" 
 
 " You overrate my services. I try to do my duty ; but such 
 cases as these two before us discourage me — bow down my 
 heart." 
 
 " I accept the estimate of those of your countrymen over whom 
 you have watched, and prayed, and toiled. True, it is very mel- 
 ancholy to lose any ; but, in such a mass, we must not expect 
 to save all. With my face pressed against the window-pane, I 
 have been watching you for more than an hour — ever since Col. 
 Aubrey came out — and I know all the sadness of the circum- 
 stances that surround you ; how painful it is for you to see those 
 two men die." 
 
 " Col. Aubrey ? He has not been here." 
 
 " Yes ; I passed him on the steps ; we rode up together from 
 camp. lie came on special business, and returns at daylight ; 
 but I shall remain several days, and hope to be with you as much 
 as the nature of your engagements will permit. Aubrey is from 
 W ; you know him, of course ?" 
 
 " Yes, I know him." 
 
 He saw a shade of regret drift over her countenance, and 
 added : 
 
 " I have many things to say to you, and much to learn con- 
 cerning your past ; but this is not the time or place for such in- 
 terchange of thought and feeling. To-morrow we will talk ; to- 
 night I could not repress my impatience to see you, though but 
 for a few moments." 
 
 They had conversed in low, smothered tones, and now, gently 
 unclasping young Walton's fingers, which still grasped her arm, 
 Irene went back to the old man's pillow and bent over the ghast- 
 ly face, where the chill of death had already settled. 
 
 " Feel how thready and feeble the pulse is ; a few more throbs, 
 and the heart will be stilled. It is hard, hard to see him die, 
 
440 MACARIA ; OK, 
 
 after all my care and watching. Five long weeks I have nursed 
 him, and now this is the end. Harvey, pray for the departing 
 soul, that, through Christ, his salvation may be sure." 
 
 The chaplain bowed his head, but no sound broke the sad si- 
 lence ; and some moments after Irene laid her ivory fingers on 
 the lids, and pressed them down over the glazed eyes. 
 
 " He is at rest. * "Whosoever believeth in me shall never die,' 
 saith the Lord. He believed, and that comforts me. I have 
 talked and read much to him during his illness, and found that 
 he had no fear of eternity. Another patriot gone — another sonl 
 to bear witness before God against our oppressors 'and murder- 
 ers." 
 
 She drew the sheet over the face of the dead, and beckoning 
 to the two soldiers who now stood near, silent and awe-struck, 
 they took up the cot, and bore it into a small room adjoining. 
 
 " Ah, Irene ! how harrowing such frequent spectacles must 
 be. I should think this position would be almost intolerable to 
 one of your keen sympathies." 
 
 " How harrowing, only God knows." 
 
 She drew a chair near young Walton, and seating herself, con- 
 tinued : 
 
 " It would be intolerable, but for the conviction that I some- 
 times save lives — lives precious to friends and country. Hard 
 as that case may seem, this is sadder still. That old man had 
 but few years left at best ; this boy stands on the verge of man- 
 hood, with the fair green meadows of life stretching dewy and 
 untrodden before him, enamelled with hope, and bounded by 
 shining peaks, which his brave, ambitious spirit panted to scale. 
 A mother's pride and solace, a sister's joy, one of a Nation's 
 treasured guardians, stricken down in his first battle — bathing 
 his country's riddled banner in his warm young blood. How 
 long — how long will Almighty God withhold his vengeance from 
 the wolfish hordes who are battening upon the blood of freemen ? 
 Harvey, if there be not a long and awful retribution for that 
 Cain-cursed race of New England, there is neither justice nor 
 truth in high heaven. I have become strangely attached to this 
 boy. He mistakes me for his mother, follows me eagerly with 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 441 
 
 1 
 
 his eyes, clin2;s to my dress, fondles ray hands. Around his neck 
 is suspended a locket containing her miniature ; and yesterday, 
 when I dressed his wound, he felt for it — showed me how he 
 kissed it before going into battle — believing that it would prove 
 a talisman. WJiat harm could befall, with his mother's face over 
 his heart ? Only a private in the ranks. No stars and bars to 
 deck his horaespuu jacket — no oflBcial pomp and glittering para- 
 phernalia to please his youthful fancy — none of the gorgeous ac- 
 cessories which gild the 'stern profession,' like jewels on a corpse 
 — no badge of distinction, save his ghastly death-wound. The 
 tenderly nurtured darling of Southern parents, cheerful in the 
 midst of unparalleled hardships, content with meagre rations, which 
 his negroes at home would scornfully reject, standing dreary watch 
 in snow and sleet and rain; with memories of luxury and fireside 
 joys tempting him from his gloomy, solitary post — springing to 
 meet the columns of the foe as though the Nation's fate depend- 
 ed upon his individual valor, and asking but a grave on the soil 
 he died defending. Only a private in the ranks ! Oh, to this 
 consecrated legion, stretching like a wall of flesh along the bor- 
 ders of our land, what a measureless debt we owe ! When In- 
 dependence is obtained, and white-robed Peace spreads her stain- 
 less hands in blessing over us, let history proclaim, and let our 
 people reverently remember, that to the uncomplaining fortitude - 
 and sublime devotion of the private soldiers of the Confederacy, 
 not less than to the genius of our generals and the heroism of our 
 subordinate officers, we are indebted for Freedom. 
 
 She laid her head close to the boy's mouth to listen to his low 
 breathing, and the minister saw her tears Ml on his pillow and 
 gleam on his auburn locks. The delirium seemed to have given 
 place to the dreamless sleep of exhaustion, and folding one of her 
 hands around his fingers, with the other she softly stroked the 
 silky hair from his fair, smooth forehead. 
 
 " Irene, will my presence here aid or comfort you ? If so, I 
 will remain till morning." 
 
 " No ; you can do no good. It is midnight now, and you 
 must be wearied with your long ride. You cannot help me here, 
 
 19* 
 
442 MACAEIA ; OE, 
 
 l3iit to-morrow I shall want you to go with me to the cemetery. 
 I wish his family to have the sad consolation of knowing that a 
 minister knelt at his grave, when we laid the young patriot in 
 his last resting place, Good-by, my brother, till then. Electra 
 is in the next room ; will you go in and speak to her ?" 
 
 " Xo ; I will see her early in the morning." 
 
 He left her to keep alone her solemn vigil ; and through the 
 remaining hours of that staiTy June night she stirred not from 
 the narrow cot — kept her fingers on the sufferer's fleeting pulse 
 — her eyes on his whitening face. About three o'clock he moan- 
 ed, struggled slightly, and looked intently at her. She gave him 
 some brandy, and found that he swallowed with great difficulty. 
 
 " Willie, are you in pain ?" 
 
 " Is it you, mother — and are we at home ?" he asked, indis- 
 tinctly. 
 
 " You are going home, Willie ; you will soon be thore." 
 
 " I have not said my prayers to-night. Mother, hold my 
 musket a minute." 
 
 He put out his arm as if to consign it to her care, and folded 
 his hands together. 
 
 " Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name " 
 
 His voice sank to a whisper, inaudible for some seconds ; then 
 he paused, as if confused ; a troubled look crossed his features, 
 the hazel eyes filled, and the hands fell powerless on his chest. 
 Laying her hand on his brow, Irene slowly repeated a favorite 
 psalm which had seemed to haunt his mind two days before — 
 that psalm of promise : " The Lord is my Shepherd ; I shall not 
 want." Whether he understood it now she never knew, but his 
 fingers crept caressingly to her face, feebly stroking her cheek 
 while she spoke, and when she concluded he seemed trying to re- 
 call something. 
 
 " Jessie knows it all ; I don't " Then came, indistinctly, 
 
 snatches of the infant prayer which had been taught him at his 
 truckle-bed in the nursery. 
 
 After a short silence he shivered, and murmured : 
 
 " Corporal of the guard ! post number nine ! Mother, it is 
 
ALTARS OF SAClilFICE. 443 
 
 cold standing guard to-night, bnt the relief will soon be round. 
 Standing guard mother " 
 
 His eyes wandered around the dim room, then slowly closed, 
 as he fell into the sleep that knew no earthly waking. 
 
 A sick man a few yards off asked for some water, and as Irene 
 received the tumbler from his hands he said, under his breath : 
 
 " He is worse to-night, isn't he, ma'm V 
 
 "■ Yes. How is that pain in your side ? I must put a blister 
 on it if it grows more severe." 
 
 *' It does not trouble me as much as it did about dark. How 
 is my fever ?" 
 
 " Not so high by fifteen beats. You will be able to take 
 quinene at seven o'clock." 
 
 She snuffed the candle and resumed her seat, and again silence 
 reigned— silence broken only by the deep breathing of the pa- 
 tients and the sudden jingle of the vials on the table, as a hun- 
 gry mouse ran among them, to nibble at the open jar of simple 
 cerate. 
 
 The air grew chilly as a light mist gathered along the James, 
 and finally the rumble of wheels on the paved streets told that 
 people were beginning to stir in the sleeping city. 
 
 Slowly a half-hour rolled away ; Irene could barely feel the 
 faint pulsation at Willie Walton's wrist, and as she put her ear 
 to his lips, a long, last shuddering sigh escaped him — the battle 
 of life was ended. Willie's Relief had come. The young senti- 
 nel passed to his Eternal Rest. 
 
 " The picket 's off duty for ever." 
 
 Tears dropped on the still face as the nurse cut several locks 
 of curling hair that clustered round the boyish temples, and took 
 from the motionless heart the loved picture which had been so 
 often and so tenderly kissed in the fitful light of cami>fires. 
 Irene covered the noble head, the fair, handsome .features, with 
 her handkerchief, and, waking Andrew, pointed to the body — 
 left her own ward, and entered one beyond the passage. 
 
 It was smaller, but similar in arrangement to the room where 
 she had pas.sed the night.* A candle was sputtering in its socket, 
 
444 MACARTA ; OR, 
 
 and the cold, misty, white dawn stared in at the eastern window 
 npon rows of cots and unquiet, muttering sleepers. There, in 
 the centre of the room, with her head bowed on the table, sat, 
 or rather leaned, Electra, slumbering soundly, with her scarlet 
 shawl gathered about her shoulders — her watch grasped in one 
 hand, and the other holding a volume open at '* Hesperid-^Egle." 
 
 Irene lifted the black curls that partially veiled the flushed 
 cheek, and whispered : 
 
 " Electra, wake up ! I am going home." 
 
 " Is it light yet, out of doors ? Ah, yes — I see I I have 
 been asleep exactly fifteen minutes — gave the last dose of medi- 
 cine at four o'clock. How are those two men ? I am almost 
 afraid to ask." 
 
 " Dead. Willie lived till dayliglit. Both dead." 
 
 *' Oh ! how sad ! how discouraging ! I went to your door 
 twice and looked in, but once you were praying, and the last 
 time you had your face down on Willie's pillow, and as I could 
 do nothing, I came back. Dr. Whitmore told me they would 
 die, and it only made me suffer to look at what I could not re- 
 lieve. I am thankful my cases are all doing well ; that new 
 prescription has acted magically on Mr. Hadley yonder, who has 
 pneumonia. Just feel his skin — soft and pleasant as a child's." 
 
 " I have some directions to leave with Martha, about giving 
 quinine before the doctor comes down, and then I shall go home. 
 Are you ready ?" 
 
 " Yes. I have a singular feeling about my temples, and an 
 oppression when I talk — shouldn't wonder if I have caught 
 cold." 
 
 "Electra, did you see Harvey last night ?" 
 
 " Xo. Where did he come from ?" 
 
 " He is chaplain in a regiment near Richmond, and said 
 he would see us both this morning. Was Russell here last 
 night ?" 
 
 "Russell? Xo. Why do you ask? Is he in the city?^ 
 Have you seen him V^ 
 
 She rose quickly, laid her hand on Irene's, and looked search- 
 ingly at her. 
 
ALTARS OF 8ACRTFICE. 445 
 
 " I have not seen him, but your cousin Harvey mentioned that 
 Col. Aubrey came up with him, on some very important errand, 
 and had but a few hours to remain. I will get my shawl and 
 join you in five minutes. Electra, you must stay at home and 
 rest for a day or two ; you are feverish, and worn out with con- 
 stant watching." 
 
 CHAPTER XXXY. 
 
 " It is a mercy that she is delirious ; otherwise her unavoidable 
 excitement and anxiety would probably prove fatal. She is very 
 ill, of course ; but, with careful nursing, I think you have little 
 to apprehend. Above all things, Irene, suffer nobody to bolt into 
 that room with the news — keep her as quiet as possible. I have 
 perfect confidence in Whitmore's skill ; he will do all that 
 I could, though I would not leave her if I did not feel it my duty 
 to hurry to the battle-field. Queen, you look weary ; but it is 
 not strange, after all that you have j^assed through." 
 
 " Doctor, when will you start ?" 
 
 " In twenty minutes." 
 
 " Has any intelligence been received this morning ?" 
 
 " Nothing but confirmation of last night's news. Hill holds 
 Mechanicsville, and the enemy have fallen back in the direction 
 of Po white Swamp. A general advance will be made all along 
 our lines to-day, and I must be off. What is the matter? 
 Surely you are not getting frightened." 
 
 " Frightened — Dr. Arnold ? No. I have no fears about the 
 safety of Richmond ; defeat is not written in Lee's lexicon ; 
 but I shudder in view of the precious human hecatombs to be 
 immolated on yonder hills before McClellan is driven back. No 
 doubt of victory disquiets me, but the thought of its awful 
 price." 
 
 She shaded her face, and shuddered. 
 
 " Cheer up, child. We may make quicker work of it than 
 
44:6 MACAEIA ; OR, 
 
 you seem to imagine. But suppose reverses should overtake us, 
 what would you do ?" 
 
 " I shall remain here as long as a man or woman is left to 
 attend to the wounded ; and if — which God forbid ! — our army 
 should be forced back by overwhelming numbers, I rejoice 
 to know tliat the spirit of ' Ediuburg after Fodden' will be found 
 in Richmond. Northern banners shall never flaunt over our 
 capital, tainting the atmosphere we breathe ; in such dire emer- 
 gency the people are resolved, and we will chant the grand words 
 of Aytoun, as we gather round our magnificent national pyre. 
 
 ' 'T were better that in fiery flame the roofs should thunder down, 
 Than that the foot of foreign foe should trample in the town ! 
 
 Though the ramparts rock beneath us, and the walls go crashing down, 
 Though the roar of conflagration bellow o'er the sinking town ; 
 There is j-et one place of shelter, where the foeman cannot come, 
 "Where the summons never sounded, of the trnmpet or the drum. 
 There shall we find rest and refuge, with our dear departed brave ; 
 And the ashes of the city be our universal grave !' 
 
 " I repeat it. Doctor — not the fate of Richmond troubles me — 
 for I have not a shadow of doubt that God will give us victory ; 
 but the thought of the lives to be yielded up in its defense. As 
 a nation, we shall rejoice ; but, ah ! the desolation hovering 
 over thousands of happy home-circles, ready to swoop down, 
 darkening peaceful hearthstones for all time. What a burden 
 of wailing woe this day will bear to the ears of a pitying 
 ' God!" 
 
 " True, it is an awful reflection ; but we have counted the 
 cost, and it will not do to repine. Extermination, rather than 
 submission to their infamous tyranny. Hampden's immortal 
 motto has become our own : * Vestigia nulla retrorsum P But 
 
 I must go, Queen, I wish you were safely back in W , 
 
 away from these horrors that so sicken your soul. Child, take 
 care of yourself. Have you anything more to say ? Talk 
 fast." 
 
 " I directed Andrew to give Cyrus a small box of cordials, 
 which I received yesterday from home. You may find use 
 for it." 
 
ALTARS OF SACKIFICK. 447 
 
 She panscil, and lier whole face quivoi-fd as she laid her clasped 
 
 hands on his arm. 
 
 " Well — wJKit is it ? Dear child, what moves you so ?" 
 "Doctor, promise me that if Colonel Aubrey is mortally 
 
 wounded you will send instantly for me. I must see him once 
 
 more." 
 
 Her liead went down on her hands, and she trembled as white 
 asters do in an early autumn gale. Compassionately the old man 
 drew one arm around her. 
 
 " After all, then, you do care for him — despite your life-long 
 reserve and apparent indifference ? I have suspected as mucli, 
 several times, but that imperturbable sphinx-face of yours always 
 baffled n^e. My child, you need not droop your head ; he is 
 worthy of your love ; he is the only man I know whom I would 
 gladly see you marry. Irene, look up— tell me— did Leonard 
 know this ? Conscious of your affection for Aubrey, did he doom 
 you to your lonely lot ?" 
 
 "Xo. My father died in ignorance of what would have 
 pained and mortified him beyond measure. Knowing him as 
 well as you do, can you suppose that I would ever have allowed 
 him to suspect the truth ? I realized my duty and fulfilled it ; 
 that is the only consolation I have left. It never caused him 
 one throb of regret, or furnished food for bitter reflection : and 
 the debt of respect I owe to his memory shall be as faithfully dis- 
 charged. If Colonel Aubrey lives to enjoy the independence for 
 which he is fighting— if he should be spared to become a useful, 
 valued member of society— one of the pure and able statesmen 
 whom his country will require when these dark days of strife arc 
 ended ; I can be content, though separated from him, and watch- 
 ing his brilliant career afar off. But if he must give his life for 
 that which he holds dearer still, I ask the privilege of seeing him 
 again, of being with him in his last moments. This consolation 
 the brave spirit of my father would not withhold from me, were 
 communion allowed between living and dead ; this none can have 
 the right to deny me." 
 
 " If such be your stern and melancholy resolution, what hap- 
 piness can the future contain ?" • 
 
448 MACARIA ; OR, 
 
 "My future holds the hope of promoting God's glory, and of 
 contributing, as far as one feeble woman can, to the happiness 
 and weal of her fellow-creatures. I cheat myself with no delu- 
 sive dreams ; I know that my way is, and ever must be, lonely ; 
 but, putting my trust in Him who never yet withheld strength 
 and guidance in the hour of need, I say to myself : 
 
 " ' 0, pusillanimons Heart, be comforted — 
 And like a cheerful traveler, take the road. 
 Singing beside the hedge.' " 
 
 The doctor gathered up her hands in his, and said, coax- 
 ingly— 
 
 " May I tell Aubrey all this ? it will, at least, comfort him in 
 some degree." 
 
 " No ; you must tell him nothing. I know what is best for 
 him, and for me." 
 
 " Oh, child ! what harm could come of it ?" 
 
 " Ask me no more ; but give me the promise to send a mes- 
 senger, if he should be severely, dangerously wounded." 
 
 ** I promise that you shall know all as early as possible. If 
 you receive no tidings, believe that he is uninjnred. As yet, his 
 regiment has not moved forward, but I know not how soon it 
 may. Heaven preserve you ! my precious child." 
 
 He pressed a kiss on the drooped head, and left her to resume 
 her watch in the darkened room where Eiectra had been ill with 
 typhoid-fever for nearly three weeks. It was thought that she 
 contracted the disease in the crowded hospital ; and when deli- 
 rium ensned, Irene temporarily relinquished her ward to other 
 nurses, and remained at the boarding-house, in attendance on her 
 friend. It was a season of unexampled anxiety, yet all was sin- 
 gularly quiet in the beleaguered city. Throuirhout the Confed- 
 eracy hushed expectar.cy reigned. Gallant Ticksburg's batteries 
 barred the Mississii^pi ; Beauregard and Price, lion-hearted idols 
 of the West, held the Federal army in Corinth at bay ; Stone- 
 wall Jackson — synonyme of victory — after swepping like a whirl- 
 wind through the Valley, and scattering the columns that 
 stealthily crept southward, had ai'rived at Riclimond at the ap 
 
AXTARS OF SACRIFICE. 449 
 
 pointed time. A greater than Serrurier, at a grander than Cas- 
 tigh:)ne, he gave tlie signal to begin ; and as a siieet of flame 
 flashed along the sombre forests of Chickahominy, tlie nation held 
 its breath, and watched the death-grapple of bannered armies 
 around its proud young capital. Tliank God ! we had no cra- 
 vens there to jeopardize our cause ; the historic cycle had 
 revolved, and heroic ages dawned again. Neither ancient, 
 mediaeval, nor modern lore can furnish a parallel for the appaling 
 panorama of blood and fire which stretched from Mechanicsville 
 to Westover — for the brilliant Seven Days' conflict, which 
 converted twenty-six miles of swamp and forest into a vast 
 necropolis. 
 
 During Friday the wounded came slowly in, and at four in the 
 afternoon the roar of artillery told that the Battle of Gaines Mill 
 was raging : that the enemy were fighting desperately, behind 
 entrenchments whicli none but Confederate soldiers could success- 
 fully have assaulted. Until eight at night the houses trembled 
 at every report of cannon, and then McClellan's grand army, 
 crippled and bleeding, dragged itself away, under cover of dark- 
 ness, to the south bank of the Chickahominy. J^aturday saw a 
 temporary lull in the iron storm ; but the wounded continued to 
 arrive, and the devoted women of the city rose from their knees 
 to minister to the needs of these numerous sufferers. Sunday 
 found our troops feehng about the swamps for the retreating foe; 
 and once more, late in the afternoon, distant thunder resounded 
 from the severely-contested field of Savage's Station, whence the 
 enemy again retreated. 
 
 On Sabbath morning Irene learned that Rn=!sell's command 
 had joined in the pursuit ; and during that day and night, as the 
 conflict drifted farther southward, and details became necessarily 
 more meagre, her anxiety increased. Continually her lips moved 
 in prayer, as she glided from Electra's silent room to aid in dress- 
 ing the wounds of those who had been disabled for further parti- 
 cipation in the strife ; and, as Monday passed without the receipt 
 of tidings from Dr. Arnold, she indulged in the hope that Rus- 
 sell would escape uninjured. During Tuesday morning Electra 
 seemed to have recovered her consciousness, but in the afternoon 
 
450 MACARTA ; OR, 
 
 she relapsed into incolierent mntteringof " Cyup," " Correggio," 
 " Titan's Bella," and " my best, great picture left in Florence." 
 
 Irene was sitting at her bedside, rolling bandages, when the 
 sudden, far-distant, dull boom of cannon, followed by the quick 
 rattling of the window-panes, gave intimation that the long con- 
 test was fiercely renewed. Prophetic dread seized her ; the 
 hideous To-Come scowled at her in the distance ; and, as the roll 
 of cloth dropped from her fingers, she covered her eyes to shut out 
 the vision of horror. The long evening hours crept by in mourn- 
 ful procession — trooping phantom-shadows filled the room — night 
 fell at last, an unheeded flag of truce — and people stood in their 
 doors, at their windows, many clustered on the pavements, lis- 
 tening in solemn silence to the fiend-like roar of the fifty pieces of 
 artillery that, like a fiery crescent, crowned Malvern Hill. A 
 courier had arrived with intelligence that hei'c the enemy's forces 
 were very strongly posted, were making desperate resistance ; 
 and though no doubt of the result was entertained, human nature 
 groaned over the carnage. 
 
 At ten o'clock, having given a potion, and renewed the folds 
 of wet linen on Electra's head, Irene stole back to the window, 
 and, turning the shutters, looked down the street. Here and 
 there an anxious group huddled on the corners, with ears strain- 
 ed to catch every sound, and, while she watched, a horseman 
 clattered at a hard gallop over the paving-stones, reined up at 
 the door of the boarding-house, swung himself to the side-walk, 
 and an instant after the sharp clang of the bell rang startlingly 
 through the still mansion. 
 
 " Oh, my God ! It has come at last !" 
 
 Irene groaned, and leaned heavily against the window-facing ; 
 ajid quick steps came up the stairway — Martha entered, and held 
 out a slip of paper. 
 
 " Miss Irene, Cyrus has just brought this." 
 
 Her mistress' icy fingers clutched it, and she read : 
 
 " Come at once. ' Aubrey is badly wounded. Cyrus will show 
 the way. 
 
 *' Hiram Arnold.^' 
 
ALTARS OF SACRTFICE. 451 
 
 " Yon arc .Q:oing to faint, Miss Irene ! Drink some of this 
 cordial !" 
 
 "No. Tell Andrew to go after the carriage as quick as pos- 
 sil)le, and have it brought here immediately ; and ask uncle Eric 
 to come to my room at once." 
 
 Irene went to her own apartment which adjoined Electra's, 
 put on her bonnet and veil, and, though the night was warm, 
 wrapped a shawl about her. 
 
 Mr. Mitchell entered soon after, and started at sight of his 
 niece's face. 
 
 " Irene, what does this mean ? Where are you going at tliis 
 hour ?" 
 
 " To the battle-field ! — to Malvern Hill. Colonel Aubrey is 
 mortally wounded, and I must see him. Will you go with me ? 
 Oh, uncle Eric ! if you have any mercy in your soul ask me no 
 questions now ! only go with me." 
 
 " Of course, my dear child, I will go with you, if it is possible 
 to procure a carriage of any kind. I will see — ." 
 
 ** I have had one engaged for three days. Martha, stay with 
 Electra till I come back ; leave her on no account. If you no- 
 tice any change^ send for Dr. Whitmore. Here is my watch ; 
 count her pulse carefully, and as long as it is over one hundred, 
 give her, every two hours, a spoonful of the medicine in that 
 square vial on the table. I trust to you, Martha, to take care 
 of lier. If she should be rational, and ask for me, tell her no- 
 thing about the battles, and say I have gone to see a sick man, 
 and will be back soon. Come, uncle Eric." 
 
 They entered the close carriage which she had ordered reserved 
 for her, and she called Cyrus to the door. 
 
 " Did you see Colonel Aubrey after he was wounded ?" 
 
 *' I only had a glimpse of him, as they brought him in. Miss 
 Irene, he was shot in the breast." 
 
 " You know the way ; ride outside ; and, Cyrus, drive as fast 
 as possible." 
 
 The night was gloomy and spectral as Sheol, and the wind 
 sobbed a miserere through the sombre forests that bordered tlie 
 road, which was now crowded with vehicles of all descriptions 
 
452 MACAETA ; OR, 
 
 liastening to and returning from the field of action. Under ordi- 
 nary circumstances, with no obstacles intervening, it was a long 
 ride ; and to Irene the way seemed interminable. Daring the 
 first hour utter silence reigned within the carriage, and then, as 
 the driver paused to allow an ambulance to pass, Eric put his 
 hand on his niece's arm and said, tenderly : 
 
 " Irene, why did you deceive me so long ? Why could you 
 not trust your uncle's love ?" 
 
 She shrank farther back in one corner, and answered w^ith a 
 voice which he could scarcely recognize as hers. 
 
 " If you love me, spare me all questions now." 
 
 By the glimmer of the carriage-lamps she could see the wagons 
 going to and fro, some filled with empty coffins, some witli man- 
 gled sufferers. Now and then weary, spent soldiers sat on the 
 roadside, or struggled on toward the city whicii tliey had saved, 
 with their arms in slings, or hands bound up, or bloody band- 
 ages across their stern faces. After another hour, when the in- 
 creasing number of men showed proximity to the scene of dan- 
 ger, Cyrus turned away from the beaten track, and soon the 
 flash of lights and the hum of voices told that they were near 
 the place of destination. The carriage stopped, and Cyrus came 
 to the door. 
 
 " We are at the lines, and I can't drive any nearer. If you 
 will wait, I will go and find Master. 
 
 It was one o'clock ; and as they waited, men passed and re- 
 passed with blazing torches, some bearing wounded men, whose 
 groans rose above the confusion. The cannonading had long 
 ceased, and Eric called to a group of soldiers belonging to the 
 Infirmary corps. 
 
 "What is the last news from the front ? Have the enemy 
 fallen back ?" 
 
 " Not yet ; but they are getting ready to run again as usual. 
 By daylight they will be out of sight, and we shall be all day to- 
 morrow hunting them up. Their style is to fight about three 
 hours, and run the balance of the twenty-four hours. They take 
 to the swamps like all other such miserable varments." 
 
 The delay seemed intolerably long, and for the first time an 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 453 
 
 audible moan escaped Irene just as Cyrus came back accom- 
 panied by a mufBed figure. 
 
 "Irene, my child." 
 
 Slie leaned out till her fixce nearly touched Dr. Arnold's. 
 
 " Only tell me that he is alive, and I can bear all else." 
 
 " He is alive, and sleeping just now. Can you control your- 
 self if I take you to him ?" 
 
 " Yes ; you need not fear that I will disturb him. Let me 
 go to him." 
 
 He gave her his arm, and led her through the drizzling rain 
 for some distance — avoiding as much as possible, the groups of 
 wounded, where surgeons were at their sad work. Finally, be- 
 fore a small tent, he paused, and whispered : 
 
 " Xerve yourself, dear child." 
 
 "Is there no hope ?" 
 
 She swept aside her long mourning veil, and gazed imploringly 
 into his face. 
 
 Tears filled his eyes, and hastily averting his head, he raised 
 the curtain of the tent and drew her inside. 
 
 A candle burned dimly in one corner, and there, on a pallet of 
 straw, over which a blanket had been thrown, lay the powerful 
 form of the dauntless leader, whose deeds of desperate daring 
 had so electrified his worshiping command but a few hours be- 
 fore. The noble head was pillowed on a knapsack \ one hand 
 pressed his heart, while the other drooped nerveless at his side, 
 and the breast of his coat was saturated with blood, which at in- 
 tervals oozed through the bandages and dripped upon the straw. 
 The tent was silent as a cemetery, and not a sound passed Irene's 
 white, fixed lips as she bent down and looked upon the loved 
 face, strangely beautiful in its pallid repose. The shadowy wings 
 of the bitter By-gone hovered no longer over the features, dark- 
 ening their chiselled perfection ; a tranquil half-smile parted the 
 lips, and unbent the lines between the finely-arched black brows. 
 Sinking softly on the floor of the tent, Irene rested her chin 
 on her folded hands, and calmly watched the deep sleep. So 
 passed three-quarters of an hour ; then, as Dr. Arnold cautiously 
 put his fingers on the pulse, the sufferer opened his eyes. 
 
4-54 MACAEIA ; OR, 
 
 Irene was partially in the shade, but as she leaned forward, a 
 sudden, bewildered smile lighted his countenance ; he started up, 
 and extended one arm. 
 
 " Irene ! My darling I Do I dream, or are you indeed with 
 me ?" 
 
 " I have come to nurse you, Kussell ; but if you do not calm 
 yourself, the doctor will send me away." 
 
 She took the outstretched hand ia both of hers, and pressed 
 her lips repeatedly upon it. 
 
 " Come close to me. I am helpless now, and can not go to 
 you." 
 
 She seated herself on the edge of the straw, laid her shawl in 
 her lap, and lifting his head, rested it on the soft woollen folds. 
 Dr. Arnold removed the warm cloth soaked with blood, placed 
 a cold, dripping towel on the gaping wound, and after tightening 
 the bandages to check the hemorrhage, passed out of the tent, 
 leaving the two alone. 
 
 " Oh, Irene ! this is a joy I never hoped for. I went at night to 
 the hospital in Richmond just to get a glimpse of you — to feast 
 my eyes with another sight of your dear, dear face ! I watched 
 you ministering like an augel to sick and wounded soldiers, and 
 I envied them the touch of your hand — the sound of your voice. 
 I little expected to die in your arms. This reconciles me to my 
 fate ; this compensates for all." 
 
 Her fingers tenderly smoothed the black locks that clung to 
 his temples, and bending down she kissed his forehead. His un- 
 injured arm stole up around her neck, drew her face to his, and 
 his lips pressed hers again and again. 
 
 " Dear Russell, you must be quiet, or you will exhaust your- 
 self. Try to sleep — it will refresh, strengthen you." 
 
 " Nothing will strengthen me. I have but a short time to 
 live ; shall I sleep away the opportunity of my last earthly 
 communion with you, my life-long idol ! Oh, Irene ! my beau- 
 tiful treasure ! This proof of your love sweetens death itself. 
 There have been hours (ever since we parted a year ago) when I 
 rrpruached you for the sorrow and pain you sternly meted out to 
 me, and to yourself. When I said bitterly, if die loved as she 
 
AiTARS OF SACRIFICE. 465 
 
 should, she would level all barriers — she would lay her hands in 
 mine — glorify my name by taking it as my wife, and thus defy 
 and cancel the past. I was selfish in my love ; I wanted you in 
 my home ; I longed for the soft touch of your fingers, for your 
 proud, dazzling smile of welcome when the day's work was ended ; 
 for the privilege of drawing you to my heart, and listening to 
 your whispered words of encouragement and fond congratulation 
 on my successes. I knew that this could never be ; that your 
 Tcneration for your father's memory would separate us in future, 
 as in the past ; that my pleadhigs would not shake your unfor- 
 tunate and erroneous resolution ; and it was hard to give up the 
 dearest hope that ever brightened a lonely man's life. Now I 
 know, I feel that your love is strong, deathless as my own, 
 though long locked deep in your heart. I know it by the anguish 
 in your face, by the quiver of your mouth, by your presence in 
 this place of horrors. God comfort and bless you, my own dar- 
 ling ! — my brave, patient, faithful Irene !" 
 
 lie smiled triumphantly, and drew her hand caressingly across 
 his cheek. 
 
 " Russell, it is useless now to dwell upon our sorrowful past ; 
 what suffering our separation has cost me, none but my God can 
 ever know. To His hands I commit my destiny, and ' He doeth 
 all things well.' In a little while you will leave me, and then — 
 oh I then, I shall be utterly desolate indeed ! But I can bear 
 loneliness— I can walk my dreary earthly path uncomplainingly, 
 I can give you up for the sake of my country, if I have the 
 blessed assurance that you have only hastened home before me, 
 waiting for me there — that, saved through Christ, we shall soon 
 meet in Heaven, and spend Eternity together. Oh, Russell ! can 
 you give me this consolation, without which my future will be 
 dark indeed ? Have you kept your promise, to live so that you 
 could at last meet the eyes of your God in peace ?" 
 
 " I have. I have struggled against the faults of my character ; 
 ] have earnestly endeavored to crush the vindictive feelings of 
 my heart ; and I have conscienciously tried to do my duty to my 
 fellow-creatures, to my command, and my country. I have read 
 the Bible you gave me ; aild, dearest, in praying for you, I have 
 
456 macarta; or 
 
 learned to pray for myself. Through Jesus, I have a sure hope 
 of happiness beyond the grave. There, though separated in life, 
 you and I shall be united by death. Oh, Irene 1 but for your 
 earnest piety this precious anticipation might never have been 
 mine. But for you I would have forgotten my mother's precepts 
 and my mother's prayers. Through your influence I shall soon 
 join her, where the fierce waves of earthly trial can lash my proud 
 soul no more." 
 
 " Thank God I Oh, Russell ! this takes away the intolerable 
 bitterness of parting ; this will support me in coming years. I 
 can brave all things in future." 
 
 She saw that a paroxysm of pain had seized him. His brow 
 wrinkled, and he bit his lips hard, to suppress a groan. Just at 
 this moment Dr. Arnold re-entered, and immediately after gave 
 him another potion of morphene. 
 
 " Aubrey, you must be quiet, if you^ould not shorten your 
 life." 
 
 He silently endured his sufferings for some moments, and, 
 raising his eyes again to Irene's, said, in a tone of exhaustion : 
 
 " It is selfish for me to make you witness my torture ; but I 
 could not bear to have you leave me. There is something I want 
 to say while I have strength left. How is Electra ?" 
 
 '• Partially delirious still, but the doctor thinks she will recover. 
 What shall I tell her for you ?" 
 
 " That I loved and remembered her in my dying hour. Kiss 
 her for me, and tell her I fell where the dead lay thickest, in a 
 desperate charge on the enemy's batteries — that none can claim 
 a nobler, prouder death than mine — that the name of Aubrey is 
 once more glorified — baptized with my blood upon the battle- 
 field. Irene, she is alone in the world ; watch over her and love 
 her, for my sake. Doctor, give me some water." 
 
 As the hemorrhage increased despite their efforts to staunch 
 it, he became rapidly weaker, and soon after, with one hand 
 locked in Irene's, he fell asleep. 
 
 She sat motionless, supporting his head, uttering no sound, 
 keeping her eyes fixed on his upturned countenance. Dr. Arnold 
 went noiselessly in and out, on various errands of mercy ; occa- 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 457 
 
 sionally anxions, weather-beaten soldiers softly lifted the curtain 
 of the tent, gazed sadlj, fondly, on the prostrate figure of the be- 
 loved commander, and turned away silently, with tears trickling 
 down their bronzed faces. Slowly the night waned, and tho 
 shrill tones of reveille told that another day had risen before tho 
 murky sky brightened. Hundreds, who had sprung up at that 
 call twenty-four hours ago, now lay stiffening in their gore, sleep- 
 ing their last sleep, where neither the sound of fife and drum, nor 
 the battle-cry of comrades, would ever rouse them from their 
 final rest before Malvern Hill — over which winds wailed a re- 
 quiem, and trailing, dripping clouds settled like a pall. 
 
 The bustle and stir of camp increased as preparations were 
 made to follow the foe, who had again taken up the line of re- 
 treat ; but within the tent unbroken silence reigned. It was ai> 
 parent that Russell was sinking fast, and at eight o'clock be 
 awoke, looked uneasil} around him, and said, feebly : 
 
 " What is going on in front ?" 
 
 " McClellan has evacuated Malvern Hill, and is in full retreat 
 toward his gunboats," answered the doctor. 
 
 " Then there will be no more fighting. My shattered regi- 
 ment will rest for a season. Poor fellows I they did their duty 
 nobly yesterday. Tell my men for me that I am inexpressibly 
 proud of their bravery and their daring, and that though my 
 heart clings fondly to my gallant regiment, I glory in the death I 
 die — knowing that my soldiers will avenge me. Give my love to 
 one and all, and tell them, when they next go into battle, to re- 
 member him who led their last charge. I should like to have 
 seen the end of the struggle — but Thy will, oh,''God 1 not mine." 
 
 He lifted his eyes toward Heaven, and for some moments his 
 lips moved inaudibly in prayer. Gradually a tranquil expression 
 settled on his features, and as his eyes closed again he murmured, 
 faintly : 
 
 *' Irene— darling — raise me a little." 
 
 They lifted him, and rested his head against her shoulder. 
 
 " Irene !" 
 
 " I am here, Russell ; my arms are around you." 
 
 She laid her cheek on his, and listened to catch the words ; 
 
458 macaria; ob, 
 
 but none came. The lips parted once, and a soft, fluttering 
 breath swept across them. Dr. Arnold put his hand over the 
 heart — no pulsation greeted him ; and, turning away, the old 
 man covered his face with his handkerchief. 
 
 " Russell, speak to me once more." 
 
 There was no sound — no motion. She knew that the soldier's 
 spirit had soared to the shores of Everlasting Peace, and that 
 not until she joined him there would the loved tones again make 
 music in her heart. She tightened her arms around the still 
 form, and nestled her cheek closer to his, now growing cold. 
 No burst of grief escaped her, to tell of agony and despair : 
 
 ♦' But like a statue solid set, 
 And moulded in colossal calm," 
 
 she sat, mute and resigned, at the foot of the Red Dripping Al- 
 tar of Patriotism, where lay, in hallowed Sacrifice, her noble, 
 darling Dead. 
 
 In the morning light her face looked rigid, pallid as his, and 
 the tearless but indescribably mournful eyes w^ere riveted on his 
 placid, handsome features. Eric and Harvey Young stood in 
 one corner of the tent, wiping away tears which would not be 
 restrained ; and finally Dr. Arnold stooped and said, falteringly: 
 
 " My dear child, come with me now." 
 
 She did not seem to hear him, and he repeated his "words, try- 
 ing, at the same time, to unwind her arms. 
 
 She yielded, and with her own hands smoothed out and cut a 
 lock of hair that waved over his gleaming forehead. 
 
 Leaning over him, she kissed the icy lips ; then rose, and, 
 clasping her hands, murmured : 
 
 " Farewell, my own brave Russell 1" 
 
 The minister approached, and stood before her. She lifted her 
 wan, dry face, and, as she put out her arms to him, a wintry 
 smile flitted over the mouth that had seemed frozen. 
 
 " Harvey 1 Harvey ! he was my all ! He was the idol of my 
 childhood ! and girlhood ! and womanhood ! Oh ! pray for me 
 
 • — that I may be patient and strong in my great desolation." 
 
 ****** 
 
 Elcctra's speedy convalescence repaid the care bestowed upon 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 459 
 
 her ; and one afternoon, ten days after quiet had aj^ain settled 
 around the Coni't'derute capital, she insisted on being allowed to 
 sit up later than usual, protesting that she would no longer be 
 regarded as an invalid. 
 
 " Irene, stand in the light where I can see you fully. How 
 worn and weary you look 1 I suspect I am regaining my health 
 at the expense of yours." 
 
 " No ; I am as well in body as I could desire ; but, no doubt, 
 my anxiety has left its traces on my countenance." 
 
 She leaned over Electra's chair, and stroked back the artist's 
 shining hair. 
 
 " I wish you would let me see the papers. My eyes are strong 
 enough now, and I want to know exactly what has taken place 
 everywhere during my sickness. It seems to me impossible that 
 General Lee's army can face McCIellan's much longer wilhout 
 bringing on a battle, and I am so anxious about Russell. If he 
 should be hurt, of course I must go to him. It is very strange 
 that he has not written. Are you sure no letters came for me ?" 
 
 " There are no letters, I am sure ; but I have a message for 
 you. I have seen him once since you were taken sick." 
 
 " Ah ! what is it ? He heard that I was ill, and came to see 
 me, I suppose. When was he here ?" 
 
 Irene bent down and kissed her companion tremulously, saying, 
 slowly : 
 
 ** He desired me to kiss you for him. Electra, I have not told 
 you before because I feared the effect upon you in your weak 
 state ; but there have been desperate battles around Richmond 
 during your illness, and the Federals have been defeated — driven 
 back to James river." 
 
 "Was Russell wounded? Yes — I understand it all now 1 
 Where is he ? Oh ! tell me that I may go to him." 
 
 She sprang up, but a death-like pallor overspread her face and 
 she tottered to the open window. 
 
 Irene follow^ed the thin figure, and, putting her arms about 
 her, made her lean against her. 
 
 " He was wounded on the last day, and I went to see him ; you 
 were then delirious." 
 
460 Mla.cARiA; or, 
 
 " Let Die go at once ! I will not disturb liim ; I will control 
 myself ! Only let me see him to-day !" 
 
 " Electra, you can not see him. He has gone to his God ; 
 but in his dying hour he spoke of you fondly, sent love and — ." 
 
 The form reeled, drooped, shivered, and fell back insensible 
 in Irene's arms. 
 
 So heavy was the swoon, that it seemed as if her spirit had 
 fled to join her cousin's in endless union ; but at length conscious- 
 ness returned, and with it came the woful realization of her loss. 
 A long, low wail rose and fell upon the air, like the cry from 
 lips of feeble, sufifering, helpless children, and her head sank upon 
 the shoulder of the sad-faced nurse, whose grief could find no ex- 
 pression in sobs, or moans, or tears. 
 
 " Dead ! dead 1 and I shall see his dear face no more ! Oh I 
 wky did you not let me die, too ? What is my wretched hfe 
 worth now ? One grave might have held us both ! My noble, 
 peerless Russell I the light of my solitary life ! Oh, God ! be 
 merciful ! take me with my idol I Take me now I" 
 
 Very tenderly and caressingly Irene endeavored to soothe her — 
 detailed the circumstances of her cousin's death, and pointed her 
 despairing soul to a final reunion. 
 
 But no rift appeared in the artist's black sky of sorrow ; she 
 lead not yet learned that, in drawing near *the hand that holds 
 the rod, the blow is lightened ; and she bitterly demanded of her 
 Maker to be released from the burden of life, 
 
 " Electra, hush your passionate cries 1 crush back your rebel- 
 lious words. Your heart knows no depth of agony which mine 
 has not sounded ; and yet, in this season of anguish, when 
 Russell is taken from us both, I look upon his grave, and feel 
 that, 
 
 •* ' I am strong 
 
 Knowing ye are not lost for aye among 
 
 The hills, witli last year's thrusli. God keeps a niche 
 
 In Heaven to hold our idols : and albeit 
 
 He brake them to our faces, and denied 
 
 That our close kisses should impair their white, 
 
 I know we shall behold them raised, complete, 
 
 The dust swept from their beauty — glorified 
 
 Kew Memnons singing in the great God-light !' " 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 461 
 
 CIIArTER XXXYI. 
 
 The sunlight of a warm spring day flashed through the open 
 window, and made golden arabesque tracery on the walls, and 
 portraits of the parlor at Huntingdon Hill. The costly crimson 
 damask curtains had long since been cut into shirts for the soldiers, 
 and transported to the Army of Tennessee, and air and sunshine 
 entered unimpeded. Electra sat before her canvas in this room, 
 absorbed in the design which now engaged every thought. The 
 witchery of her profession had woven its spell about her, banishing 
 for a time the spectral Past. 
 
 The extension of the Conscription statute had, several months 
 before, deprived Irene of a valued and trusty overseer ; and to 
 satisfy herself concerning the character of his successor, and the 
 condition of affairs at home, she and her uncle had returned to 
 W , bringing Electra with them. 
 
 Irene stood on the colonnade, leaning over the back of Eric 
 Mitchell's arm-chair, dropping crumbs for the pigeons that cooed 
 and scrambled at her feet, and looking dreamily down the avenue 
 at the band of orphans who had just paid her a visit, and were 
 returning to the asylum convoyed by the matron. 
 
 " What contented-looking, merry little children those are," said 
 her uncle, watching the small figures diminish as they threaded 
 the avenue. 
 
 " Yes ; they are as happy as orphans possibly can be. I love 
 to look into their smiling, rosy faces, and feel their dimpled hands 
 steal timidly in mine. But, uncle. Dr. Arnold has finished his nap, 
 comfortably at the table, where the doctor was examining a mass 
 and is waiting for you." 
 
 She gave him her arm to the library-door, saw him seated 
 of papers, then joined Electra in the parlor. 
 
 ** What progress are you making, Electra ?" 
 
 " Very httle. I can't work well to-day. Ruskin says that 
 no artist has fully grasped or matured his subject who can quit 
 ene portion of it any moment, and proceed to the completion of 
 
462 MACAEIA ; OR, 
 
 some other part. Doiil^tless he is correct ; but I am so liaunted 
 by these blue eyes that I can paint nothiug else this afternoon. 
 Do you recognize them ? Yours, Irene. Forgive me ; but I can 
 find no others, in imagination or in life, that so fully express 
 serenity. My work has taken marvellous hold upon me ; sleep- 
 ing or waking, it follows, possesses me. I shall not hurry my- 
 self ; I intend that the execution shall be equal to my ideal — 
 and that ideal entirely worthy of the theme. I want to lay my 
 * Modern Macaria/ as the first offering of Southern art, upon 
 my country's altar, as a nucleus around which nobler and grander 
 pictures, from the hands of my countrymen and women, shall 
 cluster. In sunny climes like ours, my glorious Art had its birth, 
 its novitiate, its apotheosis ; and who dare say that future ages 
 shall not find Art students from all nations pressing, like pilgrims 
 to the Perfected School of the Southern States ? Ancient re- 
 publics offered premiums, and saw the acme of the arts ; why 
 not our Confederate republic, when days of national prosperity 
 dawn upon us ? If the legislature of each state would annually 
 purchase, for the embellishment of the galleries and grounds of 
 its capital, the best picture or statue produced within its borders 
 during the twelvemonths, a generous emulation would be en- 
 couraged. Our marble-hearted land will furnish materials, which 
 Southern genius can mould into monuments of imperishable 
 beauty. This war furnishes instances of heroism before which all 
 other records pale, and our Poets, Sculptors, and Painters have 
 otily to look around them for subjects which Greek or Italian 
 Art would glorify and immortalize. 
 
 " ' I do dfetrust the poet who discerns 
 No character or glory in his times, 
 And truadlea back his soul five hundred years.' 
 
 Our resources are inexhaustible, our capabilities as a people un- 
 limited, and we require only the fostering inflaencos which Cos- 
 mo De Medici and Xicolo exerted in Florence, to call into action 
 energies and latent talents of which we are, as yet, scarcely con- 
 scious. Such patrons of Art and Literature I hope to find in 
 the planters of the Confederacy. They have wealth, leisure, and 
 every requisite adjunct, and upon them, as a class, must devolve 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 463 
 
 tilis labor-of-love — the accomplishment of an American Renais- 
 sance — the development of the slumbering genius of our land. 
 Burke has remarked : ' Nobihty is a graceful ornament to the 
 civil order ; it is the Corinthian capital of polished society/ 
 Certainly, Southern planters possess all the elements of this 
 highest order of social architecture, and upon their correct ap- 
 preciation of the grave responsibility attending their wealth and 
 influence depends in great degree, our emancipation from the 
 gross utilitarianism which has hitherto characterized us, and our 
 progress in refinement and aesthetic culture. As we are distinct, 
 socially and politically, from other nations, so let us be, intellect- 
 ually and artistically. The world has turned its back upon us 
 in our grapple with tyranny ; and, in the hour of our triumph, 
 let us not forget that, as we won Independence without aid or 
 sympathy, so we can maintain it in all departments." 
 
 " Electra, in order to effect this ' consummation devoutly to 
 be wished,' it is necessary that the primary branches of Art should 
 be popularized, and thrown open to the masses. Mill contends, 
 in his Political Economy, that the remuneration of the peculiar 
 employments of women is always far below that of employments 
 of equal skill carried on by men, and he finds an explanation in 
 the fact that they are overstocked. Hence, in improving the 
 condition of women, it is advisable to give them the readiest 
 access to independent industrial pursuits, and extend the circle of 
 their appropriate occupations. Our Revolution has beggared 
 thousands, and deprived many of their natural providers ; num- 
 bers of women in the Confederacy will be thrown entirely on 
 their own resources for maintenance. All can not be mantuc.- 
 makers, milliners or school-teachers ; and in order to open for 
 them new avenues of support, I have determined to establish in 
 
 W , a School of Design for Women — similar in plan, 
 
 though more extensive, than that founded some years ago by 
 Mrs. Peter of Philadelphia. The upper portion of the building 
 will be arranged for drawing classes, wood-engraving, and the 
 various branches of Design ; and the lower, corresponding in 
 size and general appearance, I intend for a circulating library for 
 our county. Over that School of Design I want you to preside ; 
 
4GJ: MACARIA ; OR, 
 
 yonr talents, your edacation, your devotion to your Art lit you 
 peculiarly for the position. The salary shall be such as to com- 
 pensate you for your services ; and, when calmer days dawn 
 upon us, we may be able to secure some very valuable lecturers 
 among our gentlemen-artists. I have a large lot on the corner 
 of Pine street and Huntingdon avenue, opposite the court-house, 
 which will be a fine location for it, and I wish to appropriate it 
 to this purpose. While you are adorning the interior of the 
 buildmg, the walls of which are to contain frescoes of some of 
 the most impressive scenes of our Revolution, I will embellish the 
 grounds in front, and make them my special charge. I under- 
 stand the cultivation of flowers, though the gift of painting 
 them is denied me. Yesterday I sold my diamonds for a much 
 larger amount than I supposed they would command, and this 
 sum, added to other funds now at my disposal, will enable me to 
 accomplish the scheme. Dr. Arnold and uncle Eric cordially 
 approve my plan, will aid me very liberally, and as soon as tran- 
 quillity is restored I shall succeed in erecting the building with- 
 out applying to any one else for assistance. When your picture 
 is finished, I wish you to make me a copy to be hung up in our 
 School of Design, that the students may be constantly reminded 
 of the debt of gratitude we owe our armies. How life-like 
 your figures grow ; I can almost see the quiver of that wife's 
 
 white lips and hear the dismal howling of the dead man's 
 dog." 
 
 The canvas, which she leaned forward to inspect more closely, 
 contained an allegorical design representing, in the foreground, 
 two female figures. One stern, yet noble-featured, crowned with 
 stars — triumph and exultation flashing in the luminous eyes ; In- 
 dependence, crimson-mantled, grasping the Confederate Banner 
 of the Cross, whose victorious folds streamed above a captured 
 battery, where a Federal flag trailed in the dust. At her side 
 stood white-robed, angelic Peace, with one hand over the touch- 
 hole of the cannon against which she leaned, and the otlier ex- 
 tended in benediction. Vividly the faces contrasted — one all 
 athrob with, national pride, beaming with brilliant destiny ; the 
 otlier v.ondcrfully serene and holy. In the distance, gleaming in 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 465 
 
 the evening lii^lit which strcaniorl from the "West, tents dotted a 
 hill-side ; and, internie<hato between Peace and tlie glittering 
 tents, stretched a torn, stained battle-field, over which the roar 
 and rush of conflict had just swept, leaving mangled heaps of 
 dead in attestation of its fury. Among the trampled, bloody- 
 shea ves of wheat, an aged, infirm Niobe-mother bent in tearless 
 anguish, pressing her hand upon the pulseless heart of a hand- 
 some boy of sixteen summers, whose yellow locks were dabbled 
 from his death wound. A few steps farther, a lovely young 
 "Wife, kneeling beside the stalwart, rigid form of her Husband, 
 whose icy fingers still clutched his broken sword, lifted her wo- 
 ful, ashen face to Heaven in mute despair, while the fair-browed 
 infant on the ground beside her dipped its little snowy, dimpled 
 feet in a pool of its father^s blood, and, with tears of terror still 
 glistening on its cheeks, laughed at the scarlet coloring. Just 
 beyond these mourners, a girl of surpassing beauty, whose black 
 hair floated like a sable banner on the breeze, clasped her round- 
 ed arms about her dead patriot Lover, and kept her sad vigil in 
 voiceless agony — with all of Sparta's stern stoicism in her blanch- 
 ed, stony countenance. And, last of the stricken groups, a faith- 
 ful dog, crouching close to the corpse of an old silver-haired man, 
 threw back his head and howled in desolation. Neither blue 
 shadows, nor wreathing, rosy mists, nor golden haze of sunset 
 glory, softened the sacrificial scene, which showed its grim fea- 
 tures strangely solemn in the weird, fading, crepuscular light. 
 
 ** How many months do you suppose it will require to com- 
 plete it ?" asked Irene, whose interest in the picture was scarcely 
 inferior to that of its creator. 
 
 " If I work steadily upon it, I can soon finish it ; but if I go 
 with you to a Tennessee hospital, I must, of course, leave it here 
 until the war ends. After all, Irene, the joy of success does not 
 equal that which attends the patient working. Perhaps it is be- 
 cause ' anticipation is the purest part of pleasure.' I love my 
 work ; no man or woman ever loved it better ; and yet there is 
 a painful feeling of isolation, of loneliness, which steals over me 
 sometimes, and chills all my enthusiasm. It is so mournful to 
 
 20* 
 
466 MACARIA ; OR, 
 
 know that, when tlie labor is ended, and a new chaplet encirelea 
 my brow, I shall have no one but you to whom I can turn for 
 sympathy in ray triumph. If I feel this so keenly now, how shall 
 I bear it when the glow of life fades into sober twilight shadows, 
 and age creeps upon me ? 
 
 " ' my God ! my God ! 
 O snpreme Artist, who a3 sole return 
 For all the cosmic wonder of Thy work, 
 Demandest of us just a word — a name, 
 ' My father !'— thou hast knowledge— only thou, 
 How dreary 'tis for women to sit still 
 On winter nights by solitary fires, 
 And hear the nations praising them far off", 
 Too far !' " 
 
 She threw down her brush and palette, and, turning toward 
 her companion, leaned her purplish head against her. 
 
 " Eleetra, it is very true that single women have trials for 
 which a thoughtless, happy world has little sympathy. But 
 lonely lives are not necessarily joyless ; they should be, of all 
 others, most useful. The head of a household, a wife and mother, 
 is occupied with family car^s and affections — can find little time 
 for considering the comfort, or contributing to tlie enjoyment of 
 any beyond the home-circle. Doubtless she is happier, far hap- 
 pier, than the unmarried woman ; but to the last belongs the 
 privilege of carrying light and blessings to many firesides — of be- 
 ing tlie friend and helper of hundreds ; and because she belongs 
 exclusively to no one, her heart expands to all her suffering fel- 
 low-creatures. In my childhood I always thought of Old Maids 
 with a sensation of contempt and repulsion ; now I regard those 
 among them who preserve their natures from cynicism and que- 
 rulousness, and prove themselves social evangels of mercy, as an 
 uncrowned host of martyrs. Eleetra, remember other words of 
 the same vigorous, gifted woman whom you so often quote : 
 
 " ' And since we needs must hunger — better, for man's love, 
 Thau God's truth ! better, for companion sweet, 
 Than great convictions ! let us bear our weights, 
 Preferring dreary hearths to desert souls !' 
 
ALTARS OF SACRIFICE. 467 
 
 ** Remember that the woman wlio dares to live alone, and b« 
 sneered at, Is braver, and nobler, and better than she who escapes 
 both in a loveless marriage. It is true that you and I are very 
 lonely, and yet our future holds much that is bright. You have 
 the profession you love so well, and our new School of Design, 
 to engage your thoughts ; and I a thousand claims on my time 
 and attention. I have uncle Eric to take care of and to love ; 
 and Dr. Arnold, who is growing quite infirm, has promised me 
 that, as soon as he can be spared from the hospitals, he will 
 make his home with us. When this storm of war has spent it- 
 self, your uncle's family will return from Europe and reside here 
 
 with you. Harvey, too, will come to W to live — will 
 
 probably take charge of Mr. Campbell's church — and we shall 
 have the pleasure and benefit of his constant counsel. If I could 
 see you a member of that church I should be better satisfied — 
 and you would be happier." 
 
 " I would join to-morrow, if thereby I could acquire your sub- 
 lime faith, and strength, and resignation. Oh, Irene ! my friend 
 and comforter I I want to live differently in future. Once I 
 was wedded to life and my Art — preeminence in my profession, 
 fame, was all that I cared to attain ; now I desire to spend my 
 remaining years so that I may meet Russell beyond the grave. 
 His death broke the ties that bound me to this world ; I live 
 now in hope of reunion in God's eternal kingdom. I have been 
 selfish, and careless, and complaining ; but, oh I I want to do 
 my whole duty henceforth. Irene, my calm, sweet, patient guide, 
 teach me to be more like you." 
 
 " Electra, take Christ for your model, instead of an erring hu- 
 man being like yourself, constantly falling short of her own duty. 
 AVith Harvey to direct us, we ought to accomplish a world of 
 good, here in sight of Russell's grave. Cheer up ! God's great 
 vineyard stretches before us, calling for laborers. Hand in hand, 
 we will go in and work till evening shades close over us ; then 
 lift up, in token of our faithfulness, rich, ripe clusters of purple 
 fruitage. You and I have much to do, during these days of 
 gloom and national trial — for upon the purity, the devotion, and 
 
468 macakia; ok, 
 
 the patriotism of the women of our land, not less than upon the 
 heroism of our armies, depends our national salvation. To 
 jealously guard our homes and social circles from the inroads of 
 cormption, to keep the fires of patriotism burning upon the al- 
 tars of the South, to sustain and encourage those who are wrest- 
 ling along the border for our birthright of freedom, is the conse- 
 crated work to which we are called ; and beyond this bloody 
 baptism open vistas of life-long usefulness, when the reign of 
 wrong and tyranny is ended, when the roar of battle, the blast 
 of bugle and beat of drum is hushed among our hills, and Peace ! 
 blessed Peace 1 again makes her abode in our smiling, flowery 
 valleys. Hasten the hour, oh I my God I when her white wings 
 shall hover over us once more !" 
 
 The eyes of the artist went back to the stainless robes and 
 seraphic face of her pictured Peace in the loved " Modern Ma- 
 caria," and, as she resumed her work, her brow cleared, the coun- 
 tenance kindled as in days of yore, bitter memories hushed their 
 moans and fell asleep at the wizard touch of her profession, and 
 the stormy, stricken soul found balm and rest in Heaven-appoint- 
 ed Labor. 
 
 Standing at the back of Electra's chair, with one hand resting 
 on her shoulder, Irene raised her holy violet eyes, and looked 
 through the window toward the cemetery, where glittered a tall 
 
 marble shaft which the citizens of TV had erected over 
 
 Ihe last quiet resting-place of Russell Aubrey. Sands of Time 
 ivere drifting stealthily around the crumbling idols of the morning 
 of life, levelling and tenderly shrouding the Past, but sorrow left 
 its softening shadow on the orphan's countenance, and laid its 
 chastening finger about the lips which meekly murmured : " Thy 
 will be done." The rays of the setting sun gilded her mourning- 
 dress, gleamed in the white roses that breathed their perfume in 
 her rippling hair, and lingered like a benediction on the placid, 
 pure face of the lonely woman who had survived every earthly 
 hope : and who, calmly front iiii,^ her Altars of Sacrifice, here 
 dedicated herself u allovred work of promoting the 
 
ALTAKS OF SACRIFICE. 4G9 
 
 happiness and gladdening the paths of all who journeyed with her 
 dowu the chequered aisles of Time. 
 
 " Rise, woman, rise ! 
 To the peculiar and best altitudes 
 Of doing good and of enduring ill, 
 Of comforting for ill, and teaching good, 
 And reconciling all that ill and good 
 Unto the patience of a constant hope. 
 . . . . Henceforward, rise, aspire, 
 To all the calms, and magnanimities. 
 The lofty uses and the noble ends. 
 The sanctified devotion and full work, 
 To which thou art elect for evermore !" 
 
 THE END. 
 
i 
 

RARE BOOK 
 COLLECTION 
 
 THE LIBRARY OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 
 NORTH CAROLINA 
 
 AT 
 
 CHAPEL HILL 
 
 Wilmer 
 1165