THE UNIVERSITY OF 
 
 NORTH CAROLINA 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 THE WILMER COLLECTION 
 OF CIVIL WAR NOVELS 
 PRESENTED BY 
 
 RICHARD H. WILMER, JR. 
 
/I 
 
 (/ 
 
 jyiUaitRCOLLfcjCiiUi 
 
THE MONT AN AS; 
 
 OB 
 
 UKDER THE STAKS. 
 
 21 li0mance« 
 
 BY 
 
 SALLIE J. HANCOCK 
 
 OP KENTUCKY. 
 
 '• A day, an hour, of virtuous Liberty 
 Is worth a whole eternity of bondage." 
 
 ^. 
 
 NEW YORK : 
 
 Carleton, Publisher^ 4.13 Broadway. 
 
 M DCCC LXTL 
 
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1S66, by 
 
 GEO. W. CAELETON, 
 
 in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern 
 District of 2^ew York. 
 
 f 
 
 The New York Printing Company, 
 
 8i, 83, and 85 Centre Street, 
 
 New York. 
 
To 
 
 OUR CIRCLE IN TKE DEAR OLD HOME, 
 
 IN 
 
 THE DAYS OF OUR WAITIXG AXD WATCHINa 
 
 FOR ONE 
 
 WHO STOOD BY THE FLAG OF THE XATION, 
 
 TJXDEE ITS STARS 
 
 WAS LOVINGLY INSCRIBED BY HIS SISTEB 
 
 THE AUTHORESS. 
 
 602937 
 
The Montanas. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 " Spontaneous joys ! where Nature has its play, 
 The soul adopts and owns their first-born sway. " 
 
 Goldsmith. 
 
 It was one of those spaces that ensue when Nature, 
 wearied of the convulsions from which spring mountains 
 lofty and grand, hills « rock-ribbed" and broken into ranges 
 vast and far, comes down to repose for a while on smooth 
 lawns and crystal streams, whose currents dash in wild- 
 ness adown the steeps, then tamely ripple through an 
 interval of gentle gliding on their journey to the distant 
 sea. There, in one of those vales of quietness in which 
 nestled the town of Waybum, where, after having given up 
 our handsome house in New York, we came to live in a 
 little cottage, around which the snow wrapped its great 
 white arms in winter-time ; while the cheeiful fire glowed 
 and crackled on the hearth within, from which arose a 
 genuine old-fashioned chimney of the Puritan times, where 
 the swallows hold their summer revels to this day. I wonder 
 if they missed me, for my childish hands had often fed them, 
 when after our brief sojourn we three went away— one to 
 the sunny, and two to the sUent land ? Or if m their calen- 
 dar there may be found any record of the time when first 
 
8 THE MONTANA S. 
 
 the echoless space reigned there grimly, as if in constant 
 reminder of the voices that had ceased to speak as they 
 were wont to speat, and now uttered words in tones that 
 made the home music cheery to other time and place than 
 these, when the merry cricket sang his season song by the 
 hearth-side? Even now I never see a band of swallows 
 cutting the sunshine with their dark wings but I think of 
 Raphael, and how they were his only companions in the 
 solitary house, where he lived with his memories of a beau- 
 teous love-lighted past; and how he fed and cared for 
 them at the last, just before his great soul — emancipated — 
 mounted the blue stairs to heaven where Julia was, with a 
 footstep light as " swallows on the wing." 
 
 The thoughts which come to me to-day are not alone of 
 him or the swallows that he loved ; though I too loved them, 
 for they were long the only tenants of my broken home. 
 A memory lies far back amid the great billows of the 
 past ; a calm space beneath a sky that was sweetly, brightly 
 blue, and each season's sun arose on flower-strewn banks. 
 The tides of life broke stilly on those morning shores, and 
 the golden days rippled by with a gliding tread that was 
 half rest, half dream. I have often wondered if other 
 homes were like tbis one of mine in the feeling and the pre- 
 sence ; time has not answered my question satisfactorily. 
 I know now how the bright links in the chain are apt to 
 fall apart when misfortune comes, cutting into them with 
 the sharp sabre of her discipline. And how wide asunder 
 the hearts of the hearth-circle may become, when spaces 
 of the outside world come in between. But I thought not 
 these thoughts then, as I lay in the stilly nights looking 
 from the windows of my little room, breaking the course 
 of the moon from the first pale cold flicker of her empty 
 cycles, to the fall glory of her perfection ; or pondering of 
 
THE MONTANA S. ' 9 
 
 the great untried world outspread under the stars ; and of 
 the heaven that seemed so vast and so far. I never felt 
 that we were poor, for I was so rich in all those attributes 
 which tend so much to brighten life, and make it treasured 
 in whatever sphere its altitudes may be cast. There was a 
 genial warmth in God's sunshine, and a glory in all things 
 His hands had created. Oh ! now for the worship of that 
 childhood time ! 
 
 My father marvelled that I never repined at our chano-e 
 of circumstances, he was himself so sore at heart ; and 
 when I saw him bowing lower day by day, I began 
 to feel very wicked that I did nothing to take the sting 
 from his crushed spirit ; and grasp by one effort of the will 
 aH he meant, when he said to me that his " last venture had 
 failed him." There was no change apparent in our house- 
 hold, yet my father came to be a laborer for his daily 
 bread. Wayburn had its manufactories, as have all North- 
 em towns, and at one of these he worked, growing each 
 day more gloomy and morose. 
 
 My gentle mother, too, suffered ; how good she was to 
 hide the pain that was gnawing at her heart, and appear to 
 sympathize with my gaiety of mood, which seemed only to 
 wound and iiTitate him. Men so rsrely understand their 
 young daughters, though they often forgive the wildest 
 freaks and the gravest incursions upon authority, if the 
 error is perpetrated by a son. 
 
 I had one female companion, Leah Eldridge, of whom I 
 was very fond ; we often ran riot in our garden grounds 
 while my father sat silent, and mother looked on with an 
 expression I shall never forget. There was such charity for 
 our shortcomings, and such tender love in it. 
 
 Oh ! where in after years do we find the heart that will 
 hold for us these things like a mothei''s ? 
 
 1* 
 
10 THE MONTANA S. 
 
 At such times Leah left me early in the evenings ; then 
 I would brush my father's scattered hairs, and j)re9sing a 
 good-night kiss upon the lips of each, would steal quietly 
 to my little room and count the stars, until sleep came 
 so softly to my pillow I half imagined I numbered them 
 in dreams. Then at morning I would watch the sun, as 
 with golden fingers he knocked at the portals of Mr. Kings- 
 well's great square house on the slope, just beyond our 
 groimds, with its white colonnade, and mantUng i\^, and 
 broad sides encrusted with the lichens of years. It was 
 pleasant to see the mists as they rolled like sheets of crystal 
 ether from the summits of the New Hampshire hills, with 
 their forests of cedar rising dark into the sky. 
 
 In the early evenings, too, I loved to watch life at the 
 great house ; its ebb and flow ; its lights flitting to and fro, 
 and shining in the darkness like my stars. How strangely 
 came about my acquaintance with its inmates. I first met 
 Mrs. Kingswell at the house of Captain Bob Eldridge ; so 
 he was called by everybody in Wayburn. Everybody 
 seemed to know him ; the smallest child could have pointed 
 out to the curious stranger the eccentric seafarer's abiding- 
 place. 
 
 It was a tall, rickety, old domicile, very bam-like in ap- 
 pearance, with very steep roof and weather-stained gables, 
 to which were attached martin boxes of a peculiar style of 
 architecture, around which the wind shrieked and howled 
 most piteously in the chill seasons; and a greenish slime 
 choked the few simple blossoms that dared to hft their 
 trusting heads, and look for summer shine in the atmo- 
 sphere of such dense thickets of arbor vitae and box, whose 
 lower limbs ran together in dense masses on the ground. 
 
 Notwithstanding the exterior was thus unprepossessing, 
 within were the marks of thrift visible everywhere; for 
 
THE MONTANAS. 11 
 
 Mrs. Alice was a tidy housewife, and Leah was swiftly 
 growing into the ways her mother had striven to teach her ; 
 so, despite one lowering shadow, this too was a happy 
 home. 
 
 Mrs. Eldridge had been for years an invalid. She seemed 
 spirit-broken like my father. The ways of sorrow are 
 common ways, and we fall into them very readily. 
 
 Captain Bob was a cheerful fellow, very full of jokes and 
 stale aphorisms. He came often to our house, and his 
 visits seemed to cheer my father though they were short, 
 and the evenings usually long ; yet his presence, however 
 brief his stay, was a source of comfort to the old man. 
 We love to have those about us who are well and strong, 
 when we are weak and suflfer. I say old, though my father 
 was still young in years ; I did not then know that time 
 is the last thing to blanch the cheek and silver the hair. 
 There are bypaths to age much shorter than those throuo-h 
 the years which we live upon earth ; those of grief and sin 
 are briefest of all. 
 
 Mrs. Eldridge was suffering more than usual, and Mrs. 
 Kingswell spent much time with her. Even then I had a 
 vague presentiment, which afterwards became a certainty, that 
 kind as was this lady to his wife, her visits annoyed Captain 
 Bob ; and that he, of manner usually off-hand and careless, 
 was restive and uncomfortable in her presence. Though I 
 was surprised at the brusque tone of his declination of a 
 courtesy so gentle, when she suggested that her husband 
 would come down with her " in the evening for awhile," 
 the Captain very gruffly thanked her, saying he would prefer, 
 since she chose to come, that she came alone! The lady's 
 face flushed for a moment, but she checked herself in the 
 manifestation of the slight feeling of resentment for the — 
 " eccentricity" of the old sailor. Yes ; she was actually 
 
12 TUE MONTANAS. 
 
 charitable enough to attribute his manner to this source, 
 and her face settled again to its usual sweet placidity when 
 she saw the deprecating, pleading eyes of the sick woman 
 fixed earnestly upon her. " I will come this evening, as I 
 promised to do," she said, and left the house. 
 
 Mrs. Eldridge ventured very timidly to expostulate wdth 
 her husband after their guest had departed, saying : 
 
 " It is too bad, she has been so kind ; it was only this 
 day she said it gave her such an unaccountable pleasure to 
 be here. I was almost tempted to tell her why it was so. 
 In my younger days I was much like William. There 
 may yet be enough left of the old manner to have attached 
 her to me. I wanted to take her in my arms and proclaim 
 the tie that existed between us, but I dared not." 
 
 Captain Bob was usually kind and patient towards his 
 wife, but now he seemed in danger of losing his temper, 
 quite. 
 
 ," Alice, are you a fool ? Excuse me, but have you no 
 pride ; what would you receive fi'om that man ? Did he not, 
 in his letter of scathing reproach, bid you ' whatever came 
 to pass, never speak to him, or seek to have him recognise 
 you, for he should feel degraded by the contact ? ' 
 
 " Do you expect me to receive here, in my house, the man 
 who used such insulting language to my wife ? Am I to 
 humble myself before this proud aristocrat ? He is rich ! 
 / am poor I But my self-respect equals his, and I would 
 rather die in want than play the despised suppliant to any 
 nabob in the land. Just count Bob Eldridge out, will you ? 
 Not even for you would I do this ; and you well know that 
 durinor our life to2:ether it is the first thinor I ever refused 
 which you asked of me, or even hinted would give you 
 pleasure." 
 
 His voice had softened much before he uttered the last 
 
THE MONTANAS. 13 
 
 words. Tliey were unaware of my presence in an adjoinino* 
 room, where Leah had left me while she went above stairs 
 to fetch some prints they had brought from China. I felt 
 guilty in thus listening to what it was not designed by 
 either I should hear ; and was just on the eve of with- 
 drawing when the wife's gentle tones arrested me, so earnest 
 were they : 
 
 " You have always been good to me, Robert, and kind ; 
 but you are unjust to William. He, too, was good to me 
 once, as he is to the whole world now — of his friends and 
 acquaintances. Those words of his — those written words, 
 which struck us both so cruelly — were hasty; they were 
 unlike any others that came from him ; and I have no right, 
 knowing William as I do, to lay them up in anger against 
 him. They were prompted by the first heated impulse up- 
 springing from a deep sense of injury. Ask yourself if you 
 would not have said more had you been in his plape and 
 he in. yours ? " 
 
 Captain Bob hung his head, and though he did not 
 admit that she was correct in the assumption of this truth, 
 he certainly did not feel called upon to assert that she was 
 wrong; he remained very sensibly silent while his wife 
 proceeded : 
 
 " You are proud, Robert, and self-respectful. So am I ; 
 but it has not been pride that has kept me, Alice Eldridgc, 
 from William Kingswell. Oh ! the bitter, bitter memories 
 that have made such barriers betvv-een us. I only remain 
 asunder because I could not early bear to be near him. 
 Could I look him in the face, and have his eyes always say- 
 ing to me, though his lips were never so silent, ' Ah ! Alice, 
 there are two graves at your old home which, but for you, 
 had not been made so early ? ' I could never bear this, 
 and that is why we have not met ; that is why I have 
 
14 THE MONTANAS. 
 
 blindly obeyed your mandate. Yes ; believe and forgive 
 me, Robert, the only reason." 
 
 The Captain was visibly moved, and said m a tender tone, 
 " And did you love me, Alice, and are you sorry that you 
 •went away with me ! " She turned her tearful eyes upon 
 him; the same dear love for him that always shone there 
 was shining still. "No, Robert! not sorry I went, but 
 sorry I stayed. I was so vainly happy in your love. I 
 never thought how my poor, blind mother's heart was break- 
 ing for her wayward child. After I became a mother I 
 could understand those things, and that was why I wished 
 to come back, but it was too late ; they were gone, and the 
 old home desolate. Though I would see William, Robert, 
 before I die — go away never to come back ; just one 
 word to tell me you consent." 
 
 He sat thinking, with his head upon his hand. I was 
 thinking, too, perhaps it was better not. Sympathy can- 
 not take the sting from the remorseful heart, however potent 
 in alleviating sorrow. Leah came back at this juncture, 
 and I heard no more save a few broken sobs at interv^als, 
 and then a heavy, low, deep sigh from Captain Bob ; from 
 a soul that refused to be loosed from the torture-rack of 
 its error. Tliese are the most galling spirit-bonds, where 
 reason and judgment assert a premise which will and in- 
 clination utterly disclaim. Oh! had he but known, that 
 rough, though kind-hearted man, how one little word fitly 
 spoken would have opened wide the gates, through man's 
 pardon, to a just God's ; have taken off the dragging 
 weight of a terrible life-long suspense from the wings of a 
 noble spirit ; unsealed the close-shut fountains of tenderness 
 in the heart of a worthy man ; taken girlish feet from out 
 the ways of temptation, where the lines of her life might 
 chance to fall, and the possibilities of sin, to place them on 
 
THE M0NTANA8. 15 
 
 the heights where principle would hold them firm, and 
 those, too, his child's — his young daughter's feet. And 
 more perhaps than all this, taken a thorn from out his 
 dying wife's side ; and strewn with beautiful flowers even 
 the darkness of that death in whose lowerinor shadow he 
 then groped. All this one little word might have done, 
 and yet the summer went by for them. The harvest of its 
 golden days was ended ; and that one word, under sun or 
 stars,- was never spoken. 
 
 I remember one evening Captain Bob came round as 
 usual ; he had left Mrs. Kingswell with his wife. He and 
 my father sat talking, or rather he talked and we listened, 
 until it was far into the night. This was his story, told 
 feelingly at broken inter\'als, interspersed with such apho- 
 risms as he always chose to season his discourses. Some 
 strange caprice had unlocked the floodgates this night. 
 
 "I think, Mr. Montana, a man should think long and 
 seriously before he takes a young girl from her parents' 
 roof into the rough world with him, no matter how dear 
 his love for her, or what the feelings which prompted him. 
 It may do very well while the money lasts, but when 
 wealth is gone, and health is gone — aye ! sir, ' there's the 
 rub.' When I was able to support my wife in a style to 
 which she was accustomed before, I was happy and she 
 was happy ; but now, since we have fallen from that estate, 
 she droops, and I have to see her failing day by day, and I 
 cannot help her. Oh ! it is very hard, Mr. Montana ; very 
 hard, sir." 
 
 He bowed his head, and I could see by the light of my 
 stars that there were tears upon his cheek. Then he pro- 
 ceeded as if talking in justification of himself : 
 
 " Though, in sooth, a less susceptible man than myself 
 would have loved my Alice, for she was a beauty and no 
 
16 TEE MONTANAS. 
 
 mistake. Our acquaintance was so romantic, too. I sat 
 singing one afternoon as T watched the lowering quay — our 
 ship had just come into port — one of my wild sailor songs, 
 when she, chancing to pass that way, paused to listen ; per- 
 ceiving the motion I sank my voice to its most melodious 
 tone, and chanted rather than sang one of those old ballads 
 which I had heard the Italians sing when steering their 
 gondoliers by moonlight on the Arno. The song concluded, 
 she passed on. I, charmed by her wondrous beauty, fol- 
 lowed her at a respectful distance to see where she lived. 
 Then I sent her flowers every day ; then it came to pass 
 that she recognised me, and we exchanged notes at stated 
 intervals ; and I knew she loved me, though she never in- 
 vited me to call. 
 
 " I was not far wrong in my suspicions as to the true 
 cause of my exclusion. She had many suitors — one, who 
 was accepted hy her parents ; and she well knew they 
 would never look with any degree of favor on me. My 
 pride was hurt at this, for Bob Eldridge was one whose 
 conduct had never been such as to exclude from him the 
 right to stand up as the equal of any honest man, whatever 
 difference circumstances might make in their conditions. 
 So I said to myself, ' There are pretty women in every port ; 
 do not make a fool of yourself. Bob, about this one ;' but I 
 had grown to be twenty-five without ha\'ing really loved 
 any one, until Alice, with her sweet face, crossed my path. 
 And the more I tried to forget her, the more impossible I 
 found it ta do so. I was man, too ; and there were both 
 reveno-e and vanitv in mv nature. I resolved to marry her 
 at all hazard. Her haughty friends would have looked 
 down on me and called me plebeian, and I for this meant to 
 set their authority and scruples at defiance. Then there 
 were two or three young men, each of whom fancied him- 
 
THE MONTANAS. 11 
 
 self the favored suitor of Alice. I just thought how 
 charming it would be to play a Spanish trick upon the whole 
 ship's crew of them ; and Alice readily consenting to my 
 proposals, we were married on the vessel the very morning 
 she sailed — Alice merely leaving a note behind to say 
 she had ' found a protector who was better suited to her 
 than any they could have selected.' We neither of us 
 thought what false construction might be and was put upon 
 her hasty flight, until William Kingswell's letter came to 
 us beyond the seas. He should have known Alice better 
 than it seems he did. No ; we never dreamed of this, we 
 were so happy. I felt very like a prince to have that beau- 
 tiful young thing clinging to me, all my own; I, as she 
 said, 'her. only protector.' And at evening, sitting on the 
 broad deck with my arms around her, and the great sea 
 heaving round us both, I sang to her the olfl songs under 
 the stars, and thanked the Master who had held the helm 
 in all the storms through which I had passed for His 
 gift. 
 
 " I had always spent money very freely, but I had saved a 
 very pretty sum, and for years Alice never wanted a luxury ; 
 and it has been my pride to say that even in the darkest 
 days of our reverses she never lacked a comfort. We might 
 yet have been happy and prosperous in~our home beyond 
 the sea ; but after she heard of the death of her parents — 
 she was tenderly attached-to both — more especially her 
 mother, who had been blind from birth, she seemed possess- 
 ed of an uncontrollable desire to return to her native land. 
 Then when we came to her old home, she could not bear 
 to remain there ; so we drifted out here, and somehow 
 we have been going" down hill ever since ; for now I see 
 that she is leaving me from day to day ; I have little heart 
 to work, and seem to care very little about prosperity. True, 
 
18 THE MONTANAS. 
 
 there is Leah ; but what will I do with the girl, and no 
 mother to train and teach her ? " 
 
 Captain Bob looked down here. Again I saw his tears swift 
 falling in the still, white moonlight, but he soon recovered 
 himself, and then w ent on to saj as though he had never ceased 
 his narrative : " I wish, though, that Alice had never insisted 
 upon my coming to Wayburn. I did not know until recent- 
 ly it was because William Kingswell had located here." 
 
 " Does he suspect," said my father, " that she is " 
 
 " No, no ! and what is more, T do not intend he shall. 
 My pride is too strong for that. His wife seems an angel, 
 almost, and Alice is very fond of her. And they two have 
 well-nigh upset my plans several times ; but why am I talk- 
 ing idly on and on of the things which oppress me from 
 day to day ? I must be going. You will not betray me, 1 am 
 sure. Come back to work as soon as you are able. We 
 want you ; the hands need a master-spirit." Here Captain 
 Bob laughed a rather hollow-sounding laugh at his own joke. 
 As there was a heart of tenderness, so was there a broad, 
 sunny area in the nature of this man — very commonplace, 
 yet possessing attributes that isolated him from the majority 
 of his kind. It was one of his most marked peculiarities 
 that he never failed to see the point of his own jokes, how- 
 ever blunt and imperceptible they were to others. Now 
 he bade us adieu, and went singing down the road, thinking, 
 perhaps, the eflbrt at gaiety might take the weight from his 
 spirits. Men are strange creatures; they turn the by-paths 
 to avoid sorrow, and when they must stand face to face 
 with it, how they seek, by many an idle subterfuge, to es- 
 cape from its circling influence. 
 
 It so happened that I was iU for several weeks, confined 
 at home ; and when I was able to go abroad, Captain Bob 
 made no longer a pretence of singing away the dreary 
 
THE MONTANAS. 19 
 
 weigKt that oppressed him; surely, now, there was no- 
 thing left him but to face his woe. 
 
 Poor old man, how I pitied him, sitting alone with Leah 
 in the solitary house. The wife and mother's chair was 
 empty ; from her earthly dwelling-place she had been trans- 
 ferred to a house whose roof was low and narrow, and long 
 and dark— close shut mthin four walls. There she slept, out 
 under the clinging sunshine, under the stars — in her last 
 }iouse — the gravel The house for which the rich and 
 mighty of this world must exchange their " castles full of 
 splendor," and the weak and the weary find their first, 
 long, dreamless rest. Ah ! as surely, too, was " that vast 
 sea which rolls round all the world," bearing my loved ones 
 on its bosom ; and upon the shores of youth and morning 
 wave meeting wave, and the circle that runs its round with 
 the race of man, came into itself again. To those that 
 were going, gone, there was the boundless area of an im- 
 mortal destiny; while to me, who loitered playing with 
 the golden sands— and to the desolate old man in his soli- 
 tary home, his motherless child clinging to him, and the 
 waves, fiercer than those he had often ridden at half-mast, 
 when the storm-clouds were dark and tides ran high, lash- 
 ing him as he sat on the barren, beaten shore — this house 
 was alike long and low and narrow and dark, when those 
 we held most dear were locked in its grim silences ; and of 
 all that had been to each of us, only this green-growing 
 door, shut close until the resurrection mom, to drop tears 
 upon. 
 
 There the soul of youth and the soul of age kept tire- 
 less watchips of memory under the. eternal stars. 
 
20 THE MONTANAS. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 "Love is not in our power. 
 Nay, what seems etrapger, is not in our choice ; 
 We only love where fate ordains we should." 
 
 Feoudk. 
 
 I ROSE quite early one morning, and walked out to my favor- 
 ite haunt on tlie strand. The sun, just rising, had stained to 
 amber the current of the bright-flowing river, with its flood 
 of golden beams. Long I, sat in the still glory, as I was 
 accustomed to do on mornings like this, tracing names 
 upon the sand, and watching the light waves as they came 
 up to wash them out. Soft gliding down the stream came 
 a small sail-boat, light and airy as a swallow, cutting the 
 smooth surface with her painted prow, in which sat a youth 
 of most striking appearance. 
 
 Turning his skiff" half round, resting on the left oar, he 
 floated with the current near to where I sat, then sprang 
 lightly on the sands. There was a grandeur on his face as 
 he stood, the bright morning reflected from waves that 
 kissed the shore at our feet, girding him about as with a 
 retinue of sunbeams. He regarded me with a look half 
 amused ; as he bowed with a grace so winning and courteous, 
 I was undecided whether it were best to treat him with the 
 frankness due a boy, or the reserve vrith which I would 
 have received a man whose years bespoke for him a man's 
 prerogative of earnest civility. 
 
 He wore a suit of spotless linen, silken half-hose, and 
 slippers of shining leather, panama hat with broad black 
 band ; his collar and wristbands were fastened with buttons 
 it dazzled my eyes to look upon. These little details of 
 dress I mention because they form a part of the strange 
 mystic impression that fixed itself upon me then as pre- 
 
THE MONTANAS. 21 
 
 senting so strildng a contrast to the sober, drab-apparelled 
 youth of Wayburn. 
 
 " I fear I have interrupted your very pleasant occupa- 
 tion," he said, naively. " It is a favorite pastime of mine ; 
 I love to trace names upon the sand, yet how soon the tides 
 wash them out." I am sure I blushed, for I was so con- 
 fused I could make no reply, but sat heaping up the shining, 
 particles, my hands dripping with the surf. He added, 
 apologetically : 
 
 " I have few lady acquaintances in Wayburn ; I wish we 
 could be friends ; I am sure that I should like you, now 
 that I have found you here the presiding genius of wave 
 and sunbeam — tracing names upon the sand. Why not 
 write your inscriptions where they will be more lasting? 
 Nature is an inconstant jade, for ever ringing in the dirges 
 of her seasons. Do not trust her, she is faithless ; she will 
 not teach us the lessons which, as sweethearts and lovers, 
 we should know. They should wear the insignia of eternal 
 truth." 
 
 I looked at him very quizzically, forgetting how embar- 
 rassed I had been, thinking he must be a very precocious 
 fellow to talk about love in any sense. I was as romantic 
 as young ladies given to star-gazing and romance-reading 
 are expected to be in their pinafore days. Yet it was dif- 
 ficult for one of my ardent temperament to detect in the 
 form of my cavalier one feature in accordance with my 
 standard of a hero, who would probably talk about " woo- 
 ing nature," or "sweethearts," or "lovers," or "eternal 
 truth." Nor in my humble estimate had an individual any 
 right to aspire to such distinction who had not arrived at 
 the dignity of his first beard, even though he wore diamond 
 buttons of first water and lifted his panama hat to a simple 
 rustic like myself with the grace of Adonis. I imagine he 
 
22 THE MONTANAS. 
 
 divined my thoughts, for he said, half seriously, half play- 
 fully : 
 
 " Your ideas of love are circumscribed. To what age or 
 condition does it specially belong ? What power has ever 
 yet encompassed its vast range ? To childhood and youth 
 it is one thing, to philosophers another, to painters and 
 poets yet another, to the great heart of nature and humanity 
 still another. There can be no standard suflBciently just 
 and accurate to measure what is illimitable. Again, can 
 love, a thing itself infinite, be reduced to system involv- 
 ing form and law ? " I felt that this youth, at whom I 
 should have sneered five minutes ago, was entirely without 
 the pale of my ridicule; being disinclined to measure 
 lances with him, I terminated a brief fit of musing with the 
 question, " Do you live here ? " 
 
 " No ; I am only sojourning at Way bum with my uncle, 
 Mr. Kingswell. New Orleans is my native place, and there 
 I reside a portion of each year." 
 
 My feeling now was more than mere surprise ! It was 
 the wrapping about my Northern proportions the garb of 
 sectional sanctity, in a manner that said, " I am holier than 
 thou ! " From that land, reeking with the curse of Ca- 
 naan ; that far away Sodom, which I had been taught to 
 regard with horror, not by my parents but by teachers and 
 ministers of the gospel, who looked at the evil through the 
 spectacles of a fanaticism which lent no enchantment to the 
 view. I pursed up my mouth with a very self-righteous 
 expression, and bade my cavalier a cold good-morning ; 
 with the same gi-aceful alacrity that marked his demeanor 
 on landing, he fastened his boat and was by my side, ere I 
 was aware of his intention, to accompany me home. 
 
 " Do you live here ? " he said, as I halted at the piazza 
 of our vine-covered cottage, the dimensions of which he 
 
THE MONTANAS. 23 
 
 had compassed in one hasty, indifferent glance. Now I had 
 asked of him a similar question previously ; he responding 
 politely and kindly. Why could not I do likewise ? Be- 
 cause my eyes were blinded to one of those grand truths 
 luminous as the sun in heaven. One of the lights shrouded 
 with the dark mantle of prejudice might make for us, were 
 reason and judgment permitted to rend the veil in twain, 
 the radiance of a great peace in the glooms where a nation 
 lies struggling, bleeding, under her stars 1 
 
 Perhaps, too, it was because I contrasted my humble 
 sphere with his evidently superior position that I answered 
 him with such bitter asperity. 
 
 " Yes, and my father is a day-laborer in yonder factory. 
 You who are taught to look upon work as beneath the 
 dignity of ladies and gentlemen — regarding those who in 
 your esteem degrade themselves necessarily in the per- 
 formance of any duty, as slaves are menial, I presume would 
 scarcely have taken the trouble to escort me home had you 
 known me as the daughter of such a one." 
 
 " Then you mistake me very much," he answered, with 
 sudden dignity and not a little coldness in his tone. " I 
 was taught by my parents not to recognise between the 
 people of any locality or the representatives of any race, 
 distinctions, save those traced by the hand of God. There 
 is no superiority save the majesty of mind, which gives 
 dignity to any system, and asserts itself in any condition. 
 It was this I saw shining in your face when we met. My 
 mother was a Northern woman, my stepfather and present 
 guardian is a Northern man ; believe me, we in the South 
 think much less of these things than you affect to do. I 
 fear, however, I am guilty of unpardonable intrusion ; I 
 hope you can forgive me ; I will promise not to offend again. 
 Good-morning ! " 
 
24 * TEE MONTANAS. 
 
 Strange, strange, in the days that came and went, go 
 often as I would to my old trysting-place, I saw him no 
 more ; but that one golden morning, with its brightness 
 circling about him, shone in my life for ever after. Several 
 times I saw him lying under the shadow of the great trees 
 on the terraces of Ridgely. 
 
 Time passed. I traced names upon the sand and the 
 waves washed them out, until the summer was quite gone 
 and the amber glow of late October was on the New Hamp- 
 shire hills. Still my golden riv^ glided on — on ; now under 
 the bright sky of morning, now under the stars. "VMiither 
 was it bearing me in my dream ? AMiy was it I sang no 
 longer through the days, but pondered more frequently 
 about our change of circumstances, and grew more into the 
 home ways with a gentler care for all ? 
 
 Even now as I look back I can find no place in the far 
 sunbright memory for what came next. 
 
 My father went one morning to his work as usual, but 
 soon returned pale and ghastly as a corpse. He sank 
 fainting into a chair. My mother's shriek brought Eleanor, 
 our maid of all work, to her aid ; while I, stupified, lent my 
 assistance in the application of such restoratives as we could 
 command. We soon had the happiness of seeing him so 
 much revived that by noon he was enabled to sit against a 
 prop of pillows, and talk very calmly to my mother about 
 the things he wished, and what it would be needful for us 
 to do when he was gone. At length, after a long inteiTal 
 of sobbing, my mother said brokenly : 
 
 " May I not write to Clififord James, and tell him your 
 true situation ? Perhaps, after all, it has not been the want 
 of brotherly affection that has kept him from you ; it may 
 be that the cares and the responsibilities of his Southern 
 life have so multiplied about him, he finds no leisure for 
 
THE MONTANAS. 25 
 
 the duties that once were pleasures. Let me tell him how 
 your final venture has failed you, and the last effort is 
 fruitless." 
 
 "No, no, wife; he neglected me when my position was 
 equal to his. I know not who was most to blame ; but I 
 do know that one of those sectional barriers grew up gradu- 
 ally and strong between our brother hearts. I railed at 
 his slaveholding. He has requited my interference with 
 years of silent, contemptuous indifference. I cannot now 
 be brought to force my broken life upon his remembrance. 
 He would not like to hear the sad story." 
 
 Oh, pride ! thou who dost build barriers between brother 
 hearts and other hearts that love, in all the highways and 
 byways of this earth ! thou shouldst have no place here — 
 where one broken, sorrowing man is coming down with 
 weary feet to the border-land of death — where his brother, 
 too, shall come one day — down from the high eminence of 
 wealth and position, lowly as he should stand now by his 
 side — though one should stay, and one go out into the 
 miknown alone. 
 
 Unable to combat these thoughts, for I had often re- 
 gretted my father's estrangement from his brother, I passed 
 to my own room, where I could weep in solitude. Uncon- 
 sciously I walked to the low window and looked out through 
 tears of silent bitterness upon my bright river, golden still, 
 in the autumn noonday. A- light-hearted child, should I 
 ever play upon its banks again ? Echo answered " again ? " 
 — my heart responded — never, any more. 
 
 I was closing the blinds when the Ridgely carriage 
 passed with the Southern youth and Mary Kingswell, loung- 
 ing gracefully on the cushions. Her fair face was shaded by 
 a jaunty hat, and he held her hand in his. Why not ? 
 — she was his cousin. Though somehow, the sight hurt 
 
 2 
 
2G THE MONTANAS. 
 
 me, T shrank back peevishly, closing the blinds with a snap 
 of the clasp, and retumed to mv father's room. 
 
 There I found Mr. Kingswell sitting by his side. I knew 
 my father had sent Eleanor to his place of business for him, 
 though I had not expected such promptitude in answer to 
 the summons. 
 
 "You are not well, Mr. Montana," he said kindly, wiping 
 from his brow the perspiration that chill autumn day, for 
 he had come hastily, not knowing what need there might be. 
 
 " Xo, no — it is almost over," answered my father com- 
 posedly. " I sent for you, sir, because I know you are the 
 friend of the widow and orphan. I am sure you will com- 
 ply with my request. I have a brother in the South ; 
 there is no kindly tie between us. For myself I will ask 
 nothing, but when all is ended for me here, you will write 
 to him ; will you not, in behalf of my wdfe and daughter, 
 solicit from him a home which I shall not be able to leave 
 them ? There is a mortcrajxe on this cotlajje which would 
 more than cover what it would bring if disposed of now. 
 That was the money I lost in my last unlucky speculation. 
 You will be kind enough to attend to the sale for me ; there 
 may be enough left to pay you for your trouble ; if not, 
 God will reward you, sir; I am sure of it." 
 
 " You trust Him then," said Mr. Kingswell, searchingly. 
 The answer came tremulously : 
 
 " Yes, though only through Christ's mercy have I hope." 
 
 " Who of us dare hope for pardon on the score of our own 
 questionable merit ? " said Mr. Kingswell again, with trae hu- 
 mility. " Trusting and feeling this as you do, my friend, while 
 you hope for forgiveness through God's great mercy, have you 
 shown mercy and forgiveness to your brother ? — have you 
 left any evidence that he was pardoned ; that the bitterness 
 has passed away from your spirit ? — if so, ask of him these 
 
THE MONTANA S. 27 
 
 things yourself. I will transfer your messages, verbal or 
 written, to Mr. Clifford Montana — whose wife was one of 
 my earliest friends — through my nephew, Clyde Ingram, 
 who leaves for New Orleans to-morrow." There was some 
 pre-occupation in Mr. Kingswell's manner, and the light of 
 far-off memory in his patient eyes, as he added : 
 
 " I hope you will rest easy, my friend ; I will arrange all 
 things as you have suggested." He took my father's hand 
 with an expression almost divine resting like sunshine on 
 his noble face ; he held it in that strong firm clasp which 
 always springs spontaneously from great hearts, adding — 
 " You will try and write your brother, if only a few words, 
 will you not ? " 
 
 There was pleading in his tones now, and my father pro- 
 mised; he could not do otherwise. ^Vho else with so few 
 words could have effected a reunion between those widely 
 severed hearts, and how was he able so to do ? Only be- 
 cause there was that in his daily life which convinced men, 
 thinking men like my father, of an eloquent fact : he was 
 striving humbly and patiently to do God's work on earth ; 
 every word and deed gave strength to the conviction. From 
 his apparent earnest desire to do good to his fellow-man, 
 came the power with which he swayed my father. 
 
 lie left us then ; with my father's last remnant of strength 
 he wrote the letter to my uncle. When he had finished, a 
 great peace came to him, and never left him any more — the 
 issue was with God. 
 
 Later in the afternoon Mrs. Kingswell came, taking from 
 her carriage — the same carriage in which Clyde Ingram had 
 ridden out with her daughter at noon-time — a basket filled 
 with delicacies to which we were unaccustomed ; for our 
 home fare was very frugal. With her own hands she made 
 the tea, and beguiled my father into drinking a cup, which 
 
28 THE MONTANA S. 
 
 refreshed him very much. WTien she took her leave, carry- 
 ing ^yith her the letter which her husband's nephew was to 
 bear with him on his homeward journey to the far South, 
 there were many sunbeams glistening in the room, which I 
 had not observed at her coming. My poor father looked 
 after her, a bright, sparkling tear fell on my hand, holding 
 his own, as he exclaimed : 
 
 " She is one of God's angels of mercy ! Oh ! if her arms 
 were long enough to embrace all she loves, they would be 
 thrown around the whole world. How many come within 
 the range of her care it is impossible to know, for she goes 
 everywhere ; her husband's means, without limit, are at her 
 disposal. Many among the poor in this quiet town can at- 
 test her goodness. Some that lie cold on yonder hill died 
 blessing her ; many more live, saved by her timely aid and 
 kindness." 
 
 Day after day she came and ministered. Night after 
 night I sat looking out sorrowfully at my pitying stars, 
 and the pale, cold moonbeams as they gathered around the 
 New Hampshire hills, around the sheltering house of 
 Ridgely ; its terraces sloping down to where the river, not 
 golden now, glided slow and grey between its locks and 
 falls, until the liquid track was lost in mist and foam below ; 
 — thinking of this death. 
 
 It came at last. My father was borne along the shadowy 
 road — shut in from our sight by the new-made grave in the 
 cemetery just above Ridgely. I kept ceaseless vigil at my 
 mother's side, until she too, worn by anxiety and sorrow, 
 sank to rest. 
 
 After that I knew no more, for so long it seemed ; and 
 even now, as I look back to that dark time, the events are 
 confused. Of my mother's going to sleep one cold, grey 
 night, when there were no stars shining ; no music in the 
 
THE MONT ANAS. 29 
 
 roar of the nisliing river — going to sleep very soundly, while 
 \ watched — I have an indistinct remembrance. Then of 
 Mrs. Kings well coming at morning trying to arouse her, 
 talking meanwhile to some strange lady about me, and how 
 she said " Poor stricken child " as she took my hand away, 
 for it was locked tightly in the cold death-gTasp of my mo- 
 ther. I seemed to hear the crashing, too, of the great door 
 of destiny which shut me out into the world of loneliness 
 and orphanhood. 
 
 After that the weeks seemed a blank, for I struggled with 
 brain-fever, and it left me no power to remember. I am 
 very thankful the sorrow of that summer season has not 
 lingered with me ; for oftenest when I go back to the days 
 when I lived with my parents in the cottage at Way burn, 
 the same blue sky is over them, and at nightfall I looked 
 to see the old stars shining, with their gentle, then sorrow- 
 ful radiance. I can recall too, the dark, earnest eyes of the 
 handsome youth, who even then looked into the deeps of 
 my soul with the eyes of destiny. At other periods the 
 sky of memory is overclouded ; then I see only two graves 
 and a lot cast amid the richer flowers of a southern land. 
 Flowers that blossomed brightly once. Now they will 
 bloom no more ; for a deluge of blood has swept them 
 away. With hearts young and warm and brave, which, too, 
 have sunk beneath thy crimson tides, O revolution ! 
 
 Can it be that upon the darkness which shrouds their 
 last sleep, a nation's stars refuse to shine ? 
 
 Aye ! but God's stars do not withhold their radiance, and 
 I will, of many, keep bright and glowing the memory 
 — for I loved them — still love them — and feel assured 
 that he is able, and will awaken them to all the beatitudes 
 of a perfect peace. 
 
80 THE 'MONT AN AS. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 "Oh 1 there are tones and looks tliat dart 
 An instant i^unshine through the heart; 
 As if the soul that minute caufrht 
 Some treasure it through life had sought." 
 
 MOOBE. 
 
 A GREAT blank succeeds in memory ; the sky of stars and 
 river gliding goldenly under the bright morning and calmly 
 under the clear arching noonday. An overwhelming con- 
 sciousness of desolation succeeded the long journey which 
 I made in company with Mrs. Montana, who I could 
 scarcely realize w^as my uncle's wife. On arriving at her 
 magnificent home I was ill again for a long time ; when 
 convalescence came lingeringly, it was diflBcult to grow 
 familiar wdth my new surroundings. 
 
 Every tie binding me to the old life seemed utterly 
 broken. I was sensible through the misty dimness of the 
 presence of many who were kind to me ; but my poor 
 heart was dumb as my lips, and made no response to any 
 save the lady who had taken my hand from a dead mo- 
 ther's clasp — it seemed to me — ages before. 
 
 Among the visions which floated up in the strange be- 
 wilderment, there was one mth form and curls that clus- 
 tered like morning light about the beautiful head ; a sweet 
 face bent over me often, and cherry lips called me sister; 
 but as yet I could make no answer, the old wounds were 
 bleeding too profusely. 
 
 One afternoon I seemed to waken, soul and sense, as 
 from a long, restless lethargy. Windows were wide open, 
 and the delicious aroma of a thousand flowers came to me 
 like the resurrection of buried summers. I could only 
 weep in unison when I heard the fall of a fountain near 
 with a liquid murmur like trickling tears. I was puzzled : 
 
THE MONT AN AS. 31 
 
 could it be that I had slept while that long winter of grief 
 had passed mto the spring? While I mused, a face— the 
 face of my morning dream at Wayburn— appeared, to look, 
 as he thought, upon my unconscious rest. At this junc- 
 ture a bright-eyed mulatto girl came from her post of duty 
 to inquire if I wanted anything. I did not ; nothing that 
 she could give me : I only wanted to think and to be rid 
 of her presence. I dismissed her by saying " my head 
 ached, and I should prefer to be alone." 
 
 " Lord bless you, Miss, I wouldn't dare to leave you for 
 a single minnit; Miss Stanley rode down to town with 
 young Mars, and she gave me my orders to stay right here 
 in this room until she came back." 
 
 I was about to inquire who Miss Stanley was, when the 
 lady herself looked in at the open door. She wore a jaunty 
 riding-cap of blue velvet plumed with white, and her curls 
 rippled in waves of gold upon the rich blue of her habit. 
 With light footstep she came to where the mulatto stood, 
 and spoke softly in tones as silvery a^ the murmuring 
 fountain without : " Has she been quiet since I left, Haw- 
 sey, and have you waited upon her well ? Are you sure ? " 
 she added, surrendering to the girl her whip, gauntlets, etc. 
 " Yes, marm," was the creature's only response to the seve- 
 ral inquiries of her mistress. 
 
 Stanley retu-ed briefly to her own apartment for the 
 purpose of changing her costume ; she reappeared clad in a 
 dress of flowing white. Coming to my side as I lay with 
 my thm hand shading my tear-wet eyes, she kissed me, 
 supposing me to be asleep. The little caress thrilled me 
 through and through; I clasped her in my arms; my 
 heart had broken the chains of its stern silence ; hence- 
 forth, from that day and hour, she was my best-beloved, 
 my soul sister. 
 
32 THE 'MOITTANAS. 
 
 From her lips I learned that she was my cousin, the 
 dauofhter of Uncle Clittbrd Montana, She had one bro- 
 ther, with whom she had ridden that afternoon ; she called 
 him Ray ; and another, who, though no relative, was in 
 truth all of a brother and more : her mother's stepson. I 
 asked her mother's former name. Edith Ingram. 
 
 I lay quite still now, holding her hand in my own, which 
 trembled a little, from physical weakness of course ! Edith 
 Ingram, the face I had seen at my window, then, was no 
 dream. The odor of jdowers, and murmur of the fountain ; 
 the soft luxurious atmosphere ; the almost fabulous splen- 
 dor of the room in which I lay, was so strano^e ! Yet the 
 break in my life was still yawning widely at my side ; a 
 gulf never to be recrossed. But the flower-strewn vistas 
 of a new life were open to me — outstretching where ? Ah, 
 who could foresee that ! 
 
 I closed my eyes, still holding those tiny hands of Stan- 
 ley, saw ray stars arise from that long night of pain, count- 
 ed the sands upon far-away shores that 1 had left, and the 
 youth who came adown the stream in the morning light ; 
 saw my golden river gliding — gliding as it chimed its rip- 
 ple with the murmuring fountain, flowing outward until it 
 seemed to mingle confasedly with the roar of the sea. 
 
 All these things were present with me often ; and during 
 that tardy convalescence Stanley was beside me always. 
 "When I was strong enough to walk, Clyde Ingram came to 
 escort me below stairs. Upon his young arm I leaned 
 during those first tottering steps about the beautiful grounds 
 of Claremont. He had adopted a singular system of re 
 taliation for the hospitality I had manifested towards him 
 in my own land. I saw that he remembered it ; for he 
 really seemed to take pardonable pleasure in thus heaping 
 coals of fire on the defenceless head of his ancient enemy. 
 
THE MONTANAS. 33 
 
 He was too generous, however, to vaunt his triumpli in my 
 present weak state of mind and body ; that would not have 
 been politic. How handsome he was ! more so, even, than 
 I remembered him ; and the light of genius, grand and glo- 
 rious, beamed from every lineament of his classic face, and 
 burned in his deep, clear eyes. Afterwards, whenever I 
 walked, Clyde or Ra3m3ond was at my side. That summer 
 was like a wandering amid the flowers of fairy-land. Old 
 misunderstandings, arising from prejudice, were foro-otten, 
 and oh ! we were all so happy together. In the autumn we 
 separated ; Stanley and myself were sent away to school, 
 Raymond and Clyde went to a German university. 
 
 We met not again for four years ; years of study, of men- 
 tal and physical development for all of us ; to Clyde and 
 Raymond, years of classic research amid time-stained re- 
 cords of the ancient masters for treasures that other years 
 could not dim. Meantime, Stanley and myself, busy in 
 acquiring more superficial accomplishments, thought most 
 of their return. 
 
 To Claremont those four springs came soft and dreamy as 
 the first one I remember there. The summers, too, glided 
 by with calm quietness as by-gone summers at Waybum 
 were wont to do. Autumn came gently to the last of these. 
 October had kindled her fires in the dark line of forest ris- 
 ing high into the lurid sky, tinged with the gleam of 
 boughs glancing brightly in the red sunshine ; rich flowers, 
 preceding the fall, blossomed everywhere. The birds sang 
 gaily as in spring-time ; voices came softly from beyond 
 the grey expanse of sea, so plaintive and subdued, they 
 seemed the echo of golden harps swept by the fingers of 
 unforo-otten dead. 
 
 This was the season in which Clyde and Raymond came 
 back. I had parted very tenderly from my young cavalier 
 
 2* 
 
34 THE MONTANAS. 
 
 four years p^e^'ious. He had told me, with a look in his 
 great, earnest eyes which I shall never forget, "how he 
 would miss me when the sea rolled between us." I had 
 treasured those words till the coming Lack. Now they 
 were returned, cousin Ra}Tnond — our frank, handsome 
 Ray — had taken me into his arms and kissed me again and 
 again ; Stanley and Clyde greeted each other, meantime, 
 no less warmly, yet when the latter came to me holding out 
 his arms I could not for my life have gone into his embrace. 
 There was something in the face and manner of the tall, 
 elegant young man, so removed, so different from the boy 
 with whom I had parted, abashed, I shrank back in silence. 
 The same earnest eyes pleaded, " Have you no greeting for 
 me ? " Only for an instant, then the look of surprised in- 
 quiry passed ; then one of pain was succeeded by an expres- 
 sion of wounded pride. He glanced at Raymond — his 
 face flushed, then grew white. Well I knew how his sensi- 
 tive nature had withdrawn into its own grand proportions, 
 though these mute evidences were all that he gave of hav- 
 inor felt a slight that cut him to the soul. This was not our 
 first painful misunderstanding — would to Heaven it had 
 been our last ! 
 
 Winter came and passed, just touching with frosty finger 
 the flowers and grasses ; but the ice-king found no welcome 
 in this balmy tropical clime w^hen he would have gil'ded it 
 about with frozen chains. 
 
 It was morning, dewy and crisp, in the spring succeed- 
 ing. How fragrant the aureole breath ; how the amber 
 sunshine wrapped us in its folds as we stood in the grand 
 arcade of our Southern homestead waiting — Stanley and I, 
 patiently as even the most exacting might expect us to do, 
 while holding in strictest remembrance certain innuendoes 
 which a gentleman, Clyde Ingram — of whose tardiness we 
 
THE MONTANAS, 35 
 
 were the amiable victims in the present instance — ^had cast 
 at us in days that were gone for delinquencies of like nature ; 
 which even those most addicted to fault-finding could but 
 decide was not a circumstance compared to the delay which 
 had kept us in an urbane state of " durance vile " for the 
 space of half an hour; durmg which probationary season 
 we had paid due court to sundry reflections and refractions 
 of our persons in the mirror of the escritoire ; each suc- 
 ceeding glance only serving to confirm the original impres- 
 sion that no improvement was necessary. Being thus 
 fortified with the opinions of two ladies of taste and judg- 
 ment, we cajoled ourselves and each other into the belief 
 that we were looking quite as well as it was possible to do, 
 the style of each subdued by a drab travelling suit surmount- 
 ed by a hat of similar hue, when Clyde made his smiling 
 appearance, announcing his entire readiness to depart. 
 
 The astounding fact would under other circumstances 
 have called down upon his guilty head a tirade of raillery 
 — -An indulgence quite dignified and fashionable in these 
 days. I cannot tell how it happened, the aforesaid scolding 
 Clyde did not receive upon that day or any other ; for each 
 had its own record of such enjoyments on his. part, yet I 
 am sure he remembered gratefully long afterwards that he 
 was minus one tongue-lashing. Perhaps it was because we 
 knew he had been in Aunt Edith's room in close conference 
 with her, for we saw tears upon her cheeks when she came 
 out to us ; scarcely less dear than her own manly boy was 
 to her this son of his dead father. 
 
 Then came the adieux upon which I will not linger; 
 suffice it to say Stanley and I were in imminent danger of 
 having our self-sustained verdict reversed ; for a gushing 
 shower of drops had almost washed the roses from our 
 cheeks ere we became conscious that this time Clyde was 
 
36 THE MONTANA S. 
 
 the martyr, not the patient one we had been either, as he 
 stood tapping his patent leathers with a spray of catalpa, 
 and whistling an air from Lucia de Lammermoor, in the 
 interval of directing servants who were loading the 
 bao;o;ao-e. 
 
 I speak advisedly ; for so ponderous a quantity of lug- 
 gage rarely falls to the honest portion of two unpretending 
 young misses of the modest dimensions of Stanley and my- 
 self. Finally the last article was safely deposited ; from the 
 two-story trunk, in a capacious corner of which we might 
 have buried ourselves after the capricious fashion of Ginevra 
 — should fancy have dictated so grave a course — to the 
 brown paper parcel quite Dickens-onian in appearance, con- 
 taining sandwiches and other elements of comfort wrapped 
 in a snowy napkin which peeped suggestively from the 
 willow basket which Stanley persistently refused to abandon, 
 influenced by private injunctions of mine, and fortified with 
 a colored legion headed by Aunt Dinah, who I think 
 religiously believed that travellers' salvation depends upon 
 sandwiches. I am furthennore assured, upon the best 
 evidence, that the old lady's idea of the peace and comfort 
 of heaven lies in the hope that she may find plenty of 
 sandwiches there. She had been the faithful slave of the 
 Ingi'ams during a long lifetime; yet I do not believe I 
 should be doing her injustice to assert that should a shadow 
 of doubt regarding the truth of these ^^ews, in strict adher- 
 ence to which her head had grown white, cross her mind, 
 she would prefer remaining for ever within the immediate 
 vicinage of these creature comforts, to being emancipated 
 in a region where they were not. 
 
 Our cavalier rebelled at the sight of the basket ; but all 
 his protestations and the most comforting assurance of 
 cofi'ee by the way, could not annihilate one of Aunt Dinah's 
 
THE MONTANAS. 37 
 
 blunt straie^litforward aroniments in favor of the sandwiches : 
 so he yielded reluctantly and came back to where Aunt 
 Edith stood. After pressing the last kiss upon her lips, 
 he entreated her again and again to take good care of 
 herself — she was not so well as she had been — and expressed 
 an ardent hope to find her better on his return ; a hope 
 which found a dim sad echo in my heart, for I had a pre- 
 sentiment #hat in this world Aunt Edith would never be 
 strong and well any more. 
 
 "I will not forget," he said, in his deep, rich voice, 
 " what you have said to me this morning, mother ; I shall 
 treasure your words — I will take my place in the world's 
 front ranks, and cause you yet to feel that your tender care 
 of my infant years was not misplaced." 
 
 He spoke these words with his strong arm around the 
 frail form of the woman who had held him in her true 
 heart, and loved him as her own ; somehow he seemed the 
 only tie between buried years and a love whose loss she 
 mourned still — a tenure yet so strong ; though the mists of 
 another separate life had fallen, the radiance was not wholly 
 dimmed. A fitful gleam of the old fire was in her heart, 
 and the light in her eyes was for him alone ; Stanley and I 
 had no share in it; He saw it too and felt it, for he caught 
 her in his arms again, as though he would keep always the 
 love that was pouring out its last riches upon us on earth. 
 But ah ! the angel love that would be ours for ever ! 
 
 Perhaps it was the electric power of this sympathy — ^my 
 part of a common grief — a joint sorrow, that caused the 
 touch of Clyde's hand to thrill me as he handed me after 
 Stanley into the carriage, and took his place beside me. I 
 never have seen hun look as he did then.; the dim shadow 
 of future years was in his deep eyes ; a sure foreboding of 
 impending bereavement shone from out their depths. He 
 
38 • THE MONTANAS. 
 
 neither saw nor felt our presence — of course we chose not to 
 remind him of facts so apparent — only waited with an un- 
 defined perception that a world of ambition was belted by 
 that little space of thought. 
 
 As we passed the curve in the road, and the trees which 
 one by one like sUent sentinels of the morning hid Clare- 
 mont — dear, lovely Claremont, and the pale spiritual mother- 
 face from our view — the face that had shone as the sun in 
 his childhood, we ceased to remember it would not always 
 shine for us. When the full glory of the day burst upon 
 us, the shadow was gone ; for youth is buoyant and san- 
 guine, prolific of many sources of enjoyment. We turned 
 our faces towards the city, whose spires stretched heaven- 
 ward to the God who looked upon it, all astir in the morn- 
 ing light; and the blue gulf stretching far away to its 
 ocean boundary, the river with its myriad fleets paling in 
 the sweet May sunshine — heard the drowsy murmur of the 
 breeze, the hum of bees, and the distant song of the lark 
 from groves of palmetto and larch, reaching a dim wilder- 
 ness of sea-ffreen fi-om the east windows of Claremont to 
 the gate of Sunrise. 
 
 Crushing the shells of the beautiful lake-shore road 
 beneath the wheels of our ponderous carriage, we soon 
 found ourselves upon Canal street, incorporated with vehi- 
 cles uncompromising as our own. We waited some time 
 in front of my uncle's bank, surrounded by the tumultuous 
 din, ere the august dignitary made his appearance. During 
 years of Southern life, he had not become a devotee at the 
 court of its customs, or learned to take things easy. At 
 length he came out, a pen behind his ear, spectacles upon 
 his head, his hand full of exchanges which he transferred to 
 Clyde for our joint benefit. He then bid us a hasty good- 
 bv, adding the pleasing information in anything but an 
 
THE MONTANA S. 39 
 
 amiable tone — Raymond tired of waiting for us, and had 
 gone somewhere, he knew not where ; but of one thing he 
 was certain, we should miss the train if we went to look 
 for him. He thought, however, it would be well enough 
 to call at the Saint Charles, then drive speedily to the 
 depot, as though such a thing were possible, until we had 
 been emancipated from that thronged thoroughfare — Canal 
 street. We did not find Raymond ; we scarcely succeeded 
 in reaching our destination, having girded on an armor of 
 the defensive and " run the blockade," successfully edging 
 our way through jostling crowds, almost deafened by the 
 sounds of preparation for departure, undergoing the neces- 
 sary preliminaries — passing through the routine with the 
 pleasant consciousness of having left one of our party 
 behind. 
 
 Scarcely had we taken our seats, when Ray sauntered 
 into the car whistling with that air of careless abandon, 
 half reckless, half self-dependent, which sits so gracefully 
 upon Southern youth to the manner born. His face was 
 radiant beneath the leghorn hat, sitting jauntily upon his 
 curls. He crushed the tendrils of my hand in his firai 
 grasp, and kissed Stanley vigorously, as a brother might be 
 expected to do such a sister. 
 
 " Just in time," he exclaimed, as the sharp click of the 
 engine drowned the thunder-tones in which the conductor 
 vaunted to us the startling fact, that we were " all aboard 1 " 
 the clang of the bell reiterating an assertion which was 
 barely a verity, so far as our party was concerned. 
 
 Raymond remarked how very narrowly the pompous in- 
 dividual in shining hat had escaped telling a fib. Then 
 we all laughed merrily as participants in the earnest drama 
 of 2l frantic rush could laugh, whose triumph was so hardly 
 won. Our mirth was succeeded by a pensive quietness ; as 
 
40 THE MONTANAS. 
 
 the train crept softly through the suburbs, we with one 
 accord turned to take a last view of Claremont. 
 
 The May day was very full of memories of our days to- 
 gether there, never to be forgotten ; there were long loiter- 
 ings upon the bright green hillsides, and flower gatherings 
 in the valley sunshine; there were hand-clasps remembered, 
 and words of kindness from those who had so brightened 
 my orphan life, treasured in that season during which we 
 four had lived and loved together ; to whose dewy morning 
 time, weary and awed by the greatness of the after-pilgrim- 
 age, we turned so often back from the dusty highway, upon 
 which a burning sun of actualities had risen to that period, 
 when with fresh hopes and fresh hearts we enjoyed hfe- 
 times in the liofhtness of one summer's radiance and the 
 fragrance of its flowers. 
 
 On and on we passed, more swiftly now ; and when the 
 sun of that day of our departure from Claremont was 
 merged in noon's fierce heat, the loved home with its groves 
 of bright- winged birds, its shadow}^ walks, and the lonely 
 mother's eye wandering through them ; the city with its 
 towering spires and gilded domes ; the river with its 
 painted fleets, and gulf, whose mists were all cleared away, 
 blazing like a silver sheet passed to the ocean — all these 
 which we saw at morning were soon far behind us, so we 
 cast dreaminsf to the winds and surrendered ourselves to 
 the pleasures of the moment. The monotony was varied 
 by snatches of sweet carolling from Stanley, interlarded 
 with fragmentary bursts of eloquence from Raymond ; 
 varied by an occasional recitation from myself, who, for the 
 most part, was delighted to play auditor while Clyde re- 
 called some trifling though interesting incident of their 
 life beyond the seas. I was very often interrupted in my 
 quiet enjoyment, to parry for Clyde, who was shrinking and 
 
THE MONTANAS. 41 
 
 "sensitive, some acrimonious shaft aimed by Ray in his 
 merriment ; thougli oftentimes for hours together my stra- 
 tegy was held in strictest requisition to defend my unoffend- 
 ing self against some merciless prank perpetrated by this 
 common enemy of our peace. 
 
 How charming we found the little incidents of travel, 
 including sandwiches, lemon pies, etc. ; and the strangest 
 thing of all, was to observe how much Clyde enjoyed them, 
 notwithstanding his torrent of opposition, which Stanley 
 and I had bravely stemmed in order to bring them. But 
 then he could not have heard Aunt Dinah mutter in her 
 triumph, at the close of the successful contest with Mars 
 Clyde, the very plaids of her turban starting from the 
 fabric, and quivering with separate wrath : 
 
 " Sense he done been of to dat German Varsity and 
 larned to be so grand as to do widout etin' hisself, he thinks 
 everbody else ort to do it to. Them are chillen haint been 
 raised to no sich notions ; lor' knows ole Dinah hopes de'U 
 never git no farrin' larnin' in their blessed heads ef it makes 
 'em kind o' crazy like." 
 
 No ! he could not have heard at the time this aside of 
 the old lady's, or, in very respect to her memory, he would 
 surely have desisted ; if not in consideration for our pam- 
 pered stomachs, at least in charity to himself. 
 
 And thus time passed during the pleasant days of our 
 journey until the mornings, with quick, sharp breath and 
 atmosphere altogether new and strange about us, proclaimed 
 that we were in a northern land^the land of bright rivers 
 and calm skies ; of brisk, busy life for old and young ; of 
 patient work alike for all. 
 
 Our pathway lay for miles along the shores of Seneca 
 Lake. 
 
 " This," said Clyde, " is the lake storied in song. I re- 
 
42 THE MOXTANAS. 
 
 member, during a season north at my uncle's, hearing a 
 strange legend of this little body of water. Owing to its 
 cold, crystal purity, which preserves bodies from decompo- 
 sition, its dead arc never raised^ but held firmly in those 
 pristine deeps awaiting the final resurrection. In direct 
 contrariety to scriptural affirmation, * Dust thou art, to dust 
 thou shalt return.' " 
 
 "Which assertion is verified in few instances," Rapnond 
 answered ; " for illustration : do you remember, Clyde, 
 what we were told by that old monk when we visited a con 
 vent on the Seine ? He said the poorer classes of the Pa- 
 risians were permitted to rent graves for their dead only 
 during the space of three years; at tlfe expiration the 
 bodies were exhumed to give place to others. In those 
 long contested battles during the Napoleonic confiict which 
 convulsed all Europe thousands were left to blanch upon 
 the field unburied." 
 
 " God grant the red hand of war may never fall upon our 
 nation," exclaimed Stanley, fer\'ently. From the depths of 
 our four hearts in chorus came an earnest amen. 
 
 We fell into a reverie befitting time and place. We saw 
 the sun go down into the deeps, smooth, glassy, and dia- 
 mond clear ; it seemed as if no storm of earth could ever 
 mar it, or even the tiniest ripple break its halcyon calm ; I 
 thought it like some natures whose capacity was unrevealed, 
 externally placid, yet far down lay power strong enough 
 either to madden or destroy while thirsting for gifts they 
 never seemed to care for. The natures that are always mis- 
 understood rarely love, because ever feared ; the natures 
 which never appear to suffer, yet suffer most. Such was 
 Clyde Ingram — our brother Clyde. 
 
 That sunset was like the waning of the sun of some gor- 
 geous dream ! Each separate beam multiplied by a hun- 
 
THE MONT ANAS. 43 
 
 dred others upon the silver surface, until the face of the. 
 deep was lighted by a glow of crimson, curling into waves 
 of molten sapphire, then melting away into mists of opal 
 and amethyst. Ah ! how rarely and radiantly beautiful it 
 was under the enchanted spell. We gazed upon the pic- 
 ture until the forms of the trees lengthened and the shadows 
 of twilight gathered about it ; then from behind those same 
 trees, whose proportions in the still gloaming lay dark upon 
 the water, the bright moon of May rose up in her splendor, 
 mirroring palaces of amber whose tall spires glittered and qui- 
 vered, broken by the waves in the sharp breath of evening, 
 growing less and less as the night queen climbed higher up her 
 ladder of stars, until at last the shadow of summer, of wood- 
 land, was quite gone ; then there was only the moon with 
 her nio-ht train full orbed, shining from the heavens and 
 from the crystal surface of the deep. 
 
 How mute were the spirits of the morning ! For a long 
 time silence reigned ahnost audibly. Stanley's fair brow 
 rested on Ray's shoulder, and moonbeams were playing 
 with her bright hair. There is in my memory to-day a 
 picture — that summer lake and sweet moon beaming around 
 above, below, and the strange look upon Clyde's face, which 
 I did not rightly interpret then nor fully understand until 
 years had dragged by their slow length of days that were 
 each burdened with the anguish of a fearful mistake. When 
 he turned to me, holding out his arm in intimation that I 
 should rest as Stanley had often done in its clasp, I thought 
 he only did so from pique that she had shown this prefer- 
 ence for Ray, who was so wont to prefer him to her bois- 
 terous brother ; so I turned away as though the motion 
 and the look in his dark, soul-full eyes was unseen, to the 
 landscape dark with fir and hemlock, for we had left the 
 lake with its miiTored stars and summer moonshine far be- 
 
44 THE MONTANAS. 
 
 hind us. I drew my victorine closer about me and shud- 
 dered in the night gloom. I might have seen him shudder, 
 too, if I had not felt the chill of other memories which had 
 their birthplace in the region of our present touring, creep- 
 ing into my heart. Into those darker musings there glided 
 a shadow, one which, as Dickens would say, lay on my 
 heart with no dark and shuddering chill, but was cast by an 
 object in itself so pure and holy that the shade seemed only 
 a subdued brightness and the light which cast it a glory. 
 But a shadow it was, whether it had its origin in fact or 
 only in my thought — of unrequited love. 
 
 Clyde sat wrapped in the impenetrable armor of reserve 
 into which my caprice or Stanley's indiflference had 
 plunged him, looking out upon gliding forests so dark 
 that not even one ray of a May moon's brightness could 
 pierce their gloom, with a far-off gleam on his fine face, 
 like a statue of the old time, the dim light from car lamps 
 falling in spectral glamour upon sleeping forms about us. 
 Stanley too was sleeping, smiling through her dreams ; the 
 brightest beams gathering where she sat, and wrapping her 
 with a chastened glory like the robes of the redeemed. 
 
 On the morrow we arrived at Waybum. There, half 
 hid by the vines, was the cottage, and just beyond the red 
 square brick house, with dark solemn firs dotting the ter- 
 raced grounds ; below, the town outspread with its neat 
 yards and daintily set fencings ; afar off the New Hamp- 
 shire hills with agricultural products climbing their steep 
 sides. Everywhere were these httle white nests of homes 
 so close beside, yet each eloquent of indi^dduality and 
 redolent of that sweet presence without which the most 
 costly and elegant structure is but four walls and a ceil- 
 ing. 
 
 The sun was hanging on a sharp spire of the tall church 
 
THE MONT AN AS. ' 45 
 
 balcony when our train, arrived, passing all dusty and 
 panting into the depot. We occupied the carriage which 
 we found awaiting us, and were soon en route for Mr. 
 Kingswell's. 
 
 CHAPTER ly. 
 
 "Know then this truth (enough for man to know), 
 Virtue alone is happiness below." 
 
 Pope's Essay ox Mait. 
 
 The shadows of twilight descending tinted into flame with 
 rays of the sinking sun of the far away South, with its 
 groves of orange and palmetto, had enwrapped Claremont 
 in their misty folds when we came in this same twilight 
 up the slope to Ridgely. It is impossible to imagine two 
 localities more utterly at variance in point of style than 
 were these two. Wayburn and its vicinage savored of the 
 brisk Northern presence which creates more than enjoys ; 
 hospitality is regarded in the light of social duty rather 
 than an impulse. The atmosphere was one of business. 
 
 Mr. Kingswell came to meet us down the tan-bark walk 
 with its neatly shorn sides — a handsome man still ; and 
 there was in his greeting such brisk heartiness which made 
 us feel he must once have been fiery and impetuous Hke 
 the youth in whose charge we repined and sufiFered. We 
 were met on the threshold by his ladylike, self-possessed 
 wife, who did the honors gravely yet cordially. Her kmd 
 eyes lingered upon my face, seeming to say, " You have 
 changed a great deal;" but they had not; they looked 
 exactly as on the morning when he lighted the sweet 
 torch of peace which illumined the mazes of the estrange- 
 
46 THE MONTANAS. 
 
 ment between my father and Uncle Montana, in whose 
 house destiny had made my home in the sunny land far 
 away from old scenes and friends. 
 
 What pleased us most was the perfect understanding 
 existing between Clyde's uncle and aunt, manifest in many 
 ways beside the mute suggestions for our personal com- 
 fort. It was evident to us that between these two, who 
 had loved and wed in youth, there was but one heart; 
 and that same love-light and youth-light was on their 
 faces still, subdued and chastened, the after radiance which 
 comes when the stonn and conflict with the world had 
 been triumphantly passed — this calmness the victory. 
 Stanley and I made this disclosure to each other upon 
 retiring to our chamber for the purpose of refreshing our- 
 selves with bath and siesta, being weary and travel-worn 
 with the long journey; which, to our everlasting credit be 
 it said, we did upon that occasion with remarkable dis- 
 patch, making our appearance promptly at the late tea 
 which had been arranged for our convenience. We found 
 the young gents on hand as they usually were, sitting with 
 father and dauorhter within the radiance of the home-light 
 on the piazza. 
 
 Mary Kingswell was lovely ; fair like Stanley, with the 
 sweetest face it has ever been my pleasure to see ; there 
 were roses, northern roses, upon her cheeks, and the home- 
 light too was in her beautiful eyes as she came forward to 
 greet us with a soft, deprecating grace so far removed 
 from the lansniishino: hauteur of Southern manners — mo- 
 dest, timid, yet there was earnest truth in it. 
 
 Raymond's quick eye observed it, and Stanley, too, with 
 that delicate intuition by the aid of which we recognise 
 kindred attributes, saw it as readily. Conventionalism is 
 well enough ; there are many persons in intercourse with 
 
THE MON TANAS. 47 
 
 wliom it would be intense pain to go beyond forms ; they 
 are a safeguard in many instances, a refuge from the ser- 
 vile element with which emancipated minds could not as- 
 similate, any more than a ray of sunshine could be a part 
 of the dusty highway it warms and brightens. The puerile 
 resort to these to disguise native deficiency ; yet true charac- 
 ter has a self-centred sustaining dignity above such com- 
 monplaces. It towers supreme, lofty in the consciousness 
 of man or womanhood, far removed from such necessities. 
 It was thus in this instance, ere twelve consecutive sen- 
 tences had been spoken by any one of us, Mary had taken 
 her place in our four lives — separately, yet relatively — an 
 individual though a joint possession, to have and to hold, 
 to joy and trusting and love to the uttermost. Grovelling 
 spirits cavil because unable to understand that mysterious 
 system of blessed recognition which binds the lofty of the 
 earth in one glorious brother and sisterhood ; who behold, 
 flaming in the higher radiance, signals marking God's 
 chosen, when they hear the mystic watchword spoken ; 
 ties grow strong in one short hour, as though riveted with 
 trust, and cemented by an intercourse of years. There is 
 in truth a freemasonry between those who wear the insig- 
 nia of that higher life of the soul ; who have unfettered 
 thought, and come to hold converse with spirits of suWiraer 
 truths than the world in its every-day reaches can grasp or 
 fathom ; who look upon life from the stand-point of a 
 higher purpose, meaning nothing more than doing God's 
 work on earth, with a patient, steady out-look of will and 
 energy, creating while they perform ; thus filling full the 
 measure of each day with good deeds and generous actions. 
 The kind of life which infuses serene content, and has in 
 it something of the spirit of the Great Master. Thus it 
 was in this family. 
 
48 THE MONTANAS, 
 
 When we sat down to our first tea with them at Ridgely, 
 we felt as if w« had always been acquainted. 
 
 I learned, in the course of the evening, that Captain Bob 
 Eldridge was living still, all alone, in the rickety old house. 
 Leah, it seemed, had been deceived by Fred. Seaman, a 
 young fellow in Wayburn, of whom I had often heard her 
 speak during our childish life together. The father, hard 
 and unforgiving, had shut close the doors of his home and 
 heart against the poor, motherless girl, who had gone out 
 into the wide world friendless. Bitter tears fell that night, 
 as I lay looking upon the little white cottage from the win- 
 dows of Pddgely ; for her who had been my childhood's 
 friend, thus fallen and forsaken. Winding my arms about 
 Stanley's neck I fell asleep, not counting the stars as I had 
 so often done, but I knew they were shining still, as of old ; 
 then prayed, even in my dreams, that poor Leah, betrayed 
 and stricken, might by their sweet life find way to some 
 quiet nook of peace, far from the broad highway of sin, 
 into which her feet had strayed. 
 
 Ah ! those were sunny days, and sunny are the memories 
 of them. It was May then, it is May now ; though be- 
 tween the reality and the memory, six long weary years 
 are lying, yet not one golden beam has gone from their 
 primitive brightness. I feel assured they will shine on until 
 we all shall meet, perchance, in some sweet Maytime of the 
 hereafter. The snow lies cold upon the May flowers to-day, 
 but has blighted none of those blooming in that fairy past 
 
 Each hour was full of enjoyments ; those two calm 
 spirits planned every species of amusement for us. One 
 day we made a pilgrimage to the hills opposite, the river 
 lying between. Ray gave to Mary his strong arm, Clyde 
 escorted Stanley, and it became my pleasant portion to be 
 led up the rocky heights by the kind, firm hand of Mr. 
 
THE MOKTANAS. 49 
 
 Edngswell. I am sure I never passed a day so pleasantly ; 
 his wonderfully fine taste, blended \dth poetic impulses, 
 was so heightened by his geniality, and tempered by cor- 
 rect judgment; his views on any subject, whether it in- 
 volved the discussion of Fine Arts or the manufacturing 
 interests of his section, were so far-reaching, so lucid, so 
 characterized by sterling worth and sense, bearing unmis- 
 takably the stamp of sex, his society was to me a perpetual 
 source of speculation and wonder. I was unprepared to 
 find this degree of refined intellio-ence coexistino- with 
 such thorough and efiicient business capacity as I had 
 always heard attributed to Clyde Ingram's uncle. 
 
 We were seated on one of the grassiest slopes, hundreds 
 of feet above the level — crowned with sunshine like a dia- 
 dem — observing the mist as it gathered about the spires of 
 Wayburn, and gloamed in vales below ; there was a shim- 
 mer in the air — it seemed as though the very rainbow 
 danced ; thus completing one of the most gorgeous scenes 
 I ever beheld. Tears gushed from his eyes ; not for the 
 grandeur and beauty of what he saw, but because he loved 
 and venerated the source from whence it sprang. We sat 
 silent a long time. At length Stanley came to us, her 
 young face radiant, wild flowers dimpling the waves of her 
 sunny hair. " Mr. Kingswell," she exclaimed, " will you 
 assist Jennie and myself in climbing this last slope ? the 
 boys are too indolent for further exertion, but I feel unwill- 
 ing to rest until I have gained the highest pinnacle." 
 
 " You would have figiired well as a politician, Stanley, 
 upon my word, and would have appeared more advantage- 
 ously than I do now; behold me, nephew," he added, 
 turning to Clyde, " a blush rose between two thorns.'''' This 
 he said with a quaint exhibition of humor, taking the hand 
 of each of us. 
 
 3 
 
50 THE MOKTAKAS. 
 
 " Thanks to the presiding genius of my lucky destiny for 
 having transferred one of them from my side to yours, 
 uncle," answered his affable and accommodating relative. 
 
 " Spoken ^vith characteristic generosity ; that spirit of 
 self-congratulation would commend you anywhere," Mr. 
 Kingswell said, with a shade of sadness in his tone. He 
 felt, I question not, that he would rather face the universe 
 at contrariety than feel the sharp wounds of those little 
 friendly arrows. Men who know the world and understand 
 the nature of true friendship rarely deal in them ; they 
 grow kinder, more considerate for the feelings of others 
 with the passing on of time. 
 
 " I doubt very much if my nephew, notwithstanding his 
 grave aspersion of the several attributes of these young 
 ladies in whom he avows so reluctant a proprietorship, 
 would under any consideration manifest a willingness to 
 transfer said thorns to the side of a younger, handsomer 
 man than I am," observed Mr. Kingswell sententiously. 
 
 I glanced at Stanley as our peacemaker closed his sen- 
 tence ; her eyes had wandered from the rainbow-tinted 
 valley to the mists gathering in the dim distance beyond ; 
 seeming afar off as the future which is with us while we 
 dream of its coming. How strangely witching she looked 
 — like a wood-nymph she looked then ; I wondered if 
 Clyde felt her loveliness as I did. Yes, I think so ; though 
 he lay on the grassy slope looking so provokingly indiffer- 
 ent I half questioned if a score of handsome women could 
 have moved him to animation, until he raised his face to 
 mine ; then I saw a look of faith, of doubt, and inquiry pass 
 over it, the shadows haunting his " lucky destiny," which 
 told him then and there the time would come when each 
 would leave him — one from choice, the other from a cruel 
 misunderstanding which would blight all her life ; yet to 
 
THE MONTANAS. 51 
 
 the last how fearlessly in spirit would she cling to him. 
 He arose finally, offering his arm to Stanley with mock 
 pomp and hauteur; we made the ascent, enjoying the view 
 more if possible than those preceding. 
 
 Descending after we had indeed climbed to the highest 
 peak, my escort stumbled suddenly upon a shapeless mass 
 of something — kind heaven, was it a man ? I should never 
 have recoo-nised God's imagre in the mutilated semblance 
 upraised by the firm arm of Mr. KingsweU, and supported 
 tenderly as if he had been an infant while he led him slowly 
 down the path to a house near the riverside. " I could not 
 have done that," said Raymond, his voice betraying intense 
 contempt for the man, who was beyond all consciousness of 
 what was passing. Mr. KingsweU answered gravely : 
 
 " Ah ! my young friend, when you shaU have come to 
 know this world as well as I ; have felt its rough corners 
 rub hard against you, and been pierced with sharp angles 
 of its fate ; realize how full to the brim of temptation it is, 
 and snares and pitfalls for the unwary ; when you have been 
 brought in swift, unsatisfying contact with aU classes of 
 men for forty years, you will have learned to feel no con- 
 tempt for any error generating in the weakness of those 
 who know not the way of strength. Conscience at some 
 time or other mflicts the reprisals of justice ; inevitable 
 suffering succeeds, and penance is the final result. I confess 
 I have little patience with those who err when every vaster 
 consideration is on the side of right, circumstances conspir- 
 ing to hold them firm ; but knowing as I do the heights 
 from which men fall — ^from which that young man fell — the 
 fearful odds against him, I thank my God that I have not 
 been tempted as he has been I He too was upright once ; 
 only two short years ago. Let us not vaunt our strength : 
 who shall say what wrecks we may not become, crashing 
 
52 THE MONTANAS. 
 
 amid 'stem rocks' on a 'pathless sea,' through which a 
 worthy divine has told us lies the narrow way through 
 mortal endeavor to immortal destiny. He loved a worthy 
 girl who was poor and lived under the same roof with hira, 
 perfonning household duties for his parents, who were 
 wealthy ; he wished to marry her — they refused ; he per- 
 sisted — when TN-ith imprecations they drove her from their 
 presence. Her father was old, depending entirely on the 
 wages she received for his support. When he found she 
 had lost her place through an ill-conceived attachment, he 
 was very angry and sent her away. After having sought 
 vainly for work, she left Way bum in the hope of being more 
 successful elsewhere. Fred followed her ; but did not find 
 her, I think, for he soon came back. Maddened by the in- 
 justice of his parents to the girl, and his own despair, he 
 plunged recklessly into dissipation, and is this day what you 
 have seen him." 
 
 "The girl?" I asked,. breathlessly. 
 
 " She has not been heard from since. But to return to 
 this boy ; he is in truth a noble fellow, and has ever been a 
 favorite of mine : I have wept tears over his do'«^^fall, and 
 would give almost everything I possess, for power to reclaim 
 and see him stand up God-fearing, self-reliant, looking the 
 man that he is." Here we paused at the residence of Mr. 
 Seaman. 
 
 " I shall leave you here, Frederick," said Mr. Kingswell, 
 kindly. Somehow, the intoxicated man was not so stupidly 
 unconscious as he appeared before. He turned towards his 
 benefactor with an uncertain expression upon his bloated 
 features, though mingled with the shame there written. I 
 traced a gleam of grateful emotion as his swollen eyes en- 
 countered my own. There must have been hoiTor in my 
 look, notwithstanding all that had passed ; for I recognised 
 
THE MONTANAS. 53 
 
 the betrayer of my friend Leah with an anguish too deep 
 for words. 
 
 Darkness was gathering upon the face of the waters as 
 we recrossed the river to the home shore. Mrs. Kingswell 
 sat waiting in the Ridgely carriage to take us home, where 
 we found a fragrant tea awaiting us. How happy we 
 were! how wretched those two wandering "without the 
 pale." Oh ! did not kind Father eyes from that far heaven 
 look pityingly upon them — knowing how they had lost 
 their way in the darkness ? Was not His the heart which 
 prompted the sublime response to sorrowing Mao-dalen — 
 "Neither do I condemn thee, sin no more." 
 
 There were re-unions planned for us in which all Way- 
 burn participated. The elite came by dozens to call upon 
 us : very soon Mary's fragile card-basket was filled to over- 
 flowing with solicitations from every available source. We 
 decided to accept an invitation from my mother's distant 
 relative Mr. Solomon Hayne, who was occupying his sum- 
 mer place at Wayburn. While the rest talked of him, 
 speculating upon the probable return from Europe of his 
 bachelor son Warren, Mrs. Kingswell and myself, apart, 
 conversed of my mother. I have so often thought of the 
 good lady's words on that occasion. 
 
 " If on earth we truly love a human being, it is because 
 we feel and know him to be worthy our affection. Esteem 
 is a necessary appurtenance to the durability of affection : 
 we have seen those whom, though brilliantly accomplished, 
 we never cpuld have loved, because their inner life held 
 not this prolific germ. There are others — passed awav, lono- 
 hidden from our sight, of whom we never think without a 
 gushing wave of buried tenderness, which calms the tumult 
 of every-day life like a benediction." 
 
 It was thus we remembered my mother in heaven these 
 
54 THE MOXTANAS. 
 
 many years. I really felt grateful for the warmth with 
 which I was received and welcomed into strange house- 
 holds for her sake. Those who knew her best while living 
 in their midst, who were her daily associates — ever referred 
 to her as having been loving, patient ; never faltering in the 
 hard way which fate had assigned to her. The circle was 
 held together by her memory as it h^d been brightened by 
 her presence. All was sadly changed since then : some 
 had prospered, others had not ; some had grown grey in 
 the hard world's service : many I missed who claimed my 
 childish remembrance — -who, like her, had " gone the way 
 of all the earth ! " None, I rejoice, had grown so sordid or 
 avaricious with accmnulated wealth and care, as to deny me 
 this one bright spot amid the vast wilderness of all the 
 past : in the land which held my mother's grave, the heart 
 of her orphan child was sunny and light. 
 
 We were ushered into the midst of a brilliant assem- 
 blage that evening, when the Ridgely carriage left us at Mr. 
 Hayne's. Our host and hostess, in consequence of urgent 
 solicitation on our part, had accompanied us, as we were 
 to leave them on the morrow. They were not participants 
 in the gaieties on this occasion ; but did not object to having 
 their child mingle in the festivities. Christianity was to 
 them a divine power lifting itself above forms — wholly 
 independent of externals; religion that was bigoted or 
 intolerant, could not coexist in the atmosphere of their 
 unpretending piety. How this simple goodness charmed 
 me ! And what reverence I was daily growing to feel for 
 the inmates of this household, with the glorious spirit of 
 love in their midst; the great love which circles all objects 
 with its munificence — a power, a possession, which even 
 the least of God's creatures shared. In that family we 
 first learned to pray; at early morning and quiet evening- 
 
THE MONTANAS. 5^ 
 
 time, the father had kiielt with us^ — a cahn peace on his 
 brow ; he wore it now amid these scenes : I think the great- 
 est tumult could not mar for an instant the holy serenity 
 of his spirit. 
 
 After we had paid our respects to Mr. and Mrs. Hayne, 
 and interchanged the necessary pleasantries with that cour- 
 teous lady and gentleman, we were moving away, when to 
 my surprise and pleasure I beheld cousin Warren standing 
 amid a group near the centre of the room. He joined me 
 immediately after. A cordial greeting was the result, during 
 which he held my hand between his slender fingers, his 
 large dai'k eyes wandering often to Stanley, who was 
 promenading with Clyde. That reminds me I have never 
 yet essayed to describe my heroine. Perhaps I have de- 
 layed thus from consciousness of the extreme diflSculty 
 involved in the undertaking. 
 
 The sunbeam and sweetest strain of the thrush ; the soft 
 whispers of slowly coming spring, which steal upon you 
 with lulling, indescribable charm, a thrill to the soul, a 
 conviction to the sense — are things that may be felt but 
 never delineated. Such was Stanley Montana's beauty; 
 being of that rare type defying all description, whose charm 
 is infinite variety — not so much a personality as a very 
 ^subtle presence, which made itself manifest without the aid 
 of any embellishment whatever. She carried with her and 
 diffused her own peculiar atmosphere; all who breathed 
 were filled with sweet exhilaration in her circle ; the very 
 essence of the charm crept stealthily along the fibres of their 
 being — a sensation none were likely to forget. Her features 
 were singularly perfect, though her eyes of dark ocean-blue 
 were the most wonderful creations of all. 
 
 I had never seen her look lovelier than in the snowy-white 
 which showered about the very essence it seemed of her 
 
56 THE MONTANAS. 
 
 spirit's virgin purity ; white was Stanley's favorite dress. 
 Now her curis fell over shoulders fair and round like waves 
 of sunlight. Then her eyes — how I have gone down into 
 their depths with my own, to find rest in that true soul as 
 yet unwarped by earthly contact ; a grand soul, the mirror 
 of her woman's heart, where all of love and affection that 
 was divine shone forth ; an avenue through which may be 
 obtained glimpses of the immortal. 
 
 Warren said as he crushed my hand, " Why did you 
 never speak to me of this peerless creature ? I have never 
 met one looking so youthful — empress-like as she appears." 
 
 "She is distantly allied to the Haynes," I answered, 
 saucily ; " that circumstance may in itself be sufficient to 
 elucidate the problem of her surpassing loveliness." 
 
 He smiled his old imperious smile, which I loved best to 
 see upon his kingly face ; then answered while his eyes 
 followed Stanley as she glided through the intricate mazes 
 of a polka quadrille in progress, which she and Clyde 
 danced admirably together. This diversion had been one 
 of our favorite amusements at Claremont ; it was strange to 
 see it in vogue at Wayburn, so quiet and puritanical in its 
 usages once. 
 
 "Some of the city fashions the Haynes had brought 
 from New York with them," remarked Mrs. Seaman, the 
 ill-conditioned wife of a church deacon, who had become 
 sufficiently reconciled to this fashion to become a spec- 
 tator in this instance. Warren smiled again as I remarked, 
 " What cannot be cured must be endured." 
 
 " I observe you have not lost your propensity to be sar- 
 castic, Jennie ; as a child you were exceedingly cruel to me ; 
 I find you unchanged. Tell me, in your sunny home have 
 you ever thought of our pleasant days together in New 
 York ? How uncle's decision that he would reside in Way- 
 
THE MONT AN AS. 57 
 
 bum broke into our arrangements ; afterwards you became 
 a recluse. My friend Milverton has not forgotten you ; lie 
 speaks of you often, and has sent you messages through 
 the medium of my letters, to which you never once re- 
 sponded." 
 
 I heeded not his reminder ; my heart had gone out into 
 that school-time with the bereavement which ensued ; I 
 thought of the two graves in the cemetery near by, their 
 white stones gleaming in summer moonshine like spectres 
 of the old days. Warren had been so unfortunate as to 
 sweep these chords of bitterness. Now taking my hand 
 caressingly he led me towards the sitting-room ; I made a 
 deprecating gesture when he would have taken me to the 
 piano ; instead, we passed into the garden, treading its paths 
 in the shadowy night — through clustering dewdrops that 
 shone like diamonds, flashing back the starry radiance in 
 which we walked. 
 
 " Now, Jennie, you must tell me something more about 
 this Hebe cousin of yours. How long do you remain in 
 Waybum ; where will be your next halting-place ; and 
 when will you transplant your southern lily to her native 
 bowers again ? " 
 
 " You give me no time to answer one query ere you ply 
 another. Stanley is the only daughter of Uncle Clifibrd 
 Montana. We leave Waybum to-morrow, go to Boston, 
 Nahant, and home in September." 
 
 " Who is the young fellow with whom she dances ? " 
 
 " Clyde Ingram, her mother's stepson." 
 
 " Ah ! yes, I understand ; I learned from Aunt Hayne that 
 she was accompanied by a most devoted suitor, who really 
 monopolized her. Arrived at Waybum I was regaled as 
 usual with the gossip of the place ; heard the merits of 
 your beautiful cousin discussed before you came this even- 
 
58 THE MOKTANAS. 
 
 ing. Tell me, Jennie, is it trae that her father is seeking 
 to negotiate for her a marriage with him because he is 
 rich ? " 
 
 I felt that the pain at my heart was suddenly checked by 
 this trite conclusion to his interrogatory : something very 
 like angry defiance flashed into my face, when I saw the 
 lofty expression of triumphant disdain in the magnificent 
 eyes of my cousin Warren; though in his courteous tones 
 there was moderate surprise afiably expressed — nothing 
 more, in the words he spoke now : 
 
 " Her suitor, is he — indeed ? " There remained nothing 
 for me save a course of repentance for my hasty -wTath, 
 then to laugh immoderately at his diplomatic quietus upon 
 my intended defence of Clyde. Warren too laughed, each 
 knowing why the other laughed, though no further inter- 
 pretation of 9ur risibility was vouchsafed by either. By 
 and by Warren said very tenderly : 
 
 " You are a strange girl, Jenny. I shall be more cautious 
 about looking for my proposed triumph over this Quixotic 
 rival, if such I may consider him, especially when I have an 
 auditor who is ready to convert my glance into an imaginary 
 dagger " 
 
 " And your cool disdain into an impossible conquest," I 
 answered, thus concluding the sentence in a manner foreign 
 to his design. Then we passed into the house. 
 
 Stanley was seated at the instrument, singing with Clyde 
 an invocation to the South ; words and music were her own. 
 AVe managed to get a position amid the throng of listeners, 
 near the singer. I have never since seen my cousins look 
 as they did that night. Stanley fair and beautiful as the 
 angel of a dream ; Warren showing how he felt all the 
 witchery and power of her loveliness. His soul bowed 
 down, wrapt in humble adoration, while those slender, child- 
 
THE MONTANAS. 59 
 
 ish fingers swept its chords as none else had ever swept 
 them — the wild, sweet strains would linger with him, doubt- 
 less, until he heard other strains very Uke them from angel 
 fingers come over the cold, grey waters from bright harps 
 beyond. 
 
 When she had ceased singing, he crept reverently to her 
 side, thanking her in such courtly terms and with such mani- 
 fest pleasure. As I looked upon my proud cousin, I could 
 not help feeling keenly the distinction between what he 
 might have been, and what he was 1 — a disciple of that selfish 
 class of worldlians, whose higher impulses are invariably at 
 the mandate of interest, who worship at the shrine of that 
 inexorable MootiI — Mammon ! 
 
 We met my cousin again ; he joined us at the early 
 breakfast prepared at Ridgely for our especial benefit, before 
 leave-taking, in which he too participated. He went his 
 way, and we went ours, missing very much the kind voice, 
 genial manner, and handsome face of Warren Hayne. 
 
 CHAPTER y. 
 
 •* In many ways does the full heart reveal. 
 The presence of a love it would conceal." 
 
 GOLESIDGE. 
 
 Almost immediately upon our arrival at the Tremont, War- 
 ren paid his respects to us ; he had lingered at Waybum 
 only long enough to telegraph his intention to his father, 
 who he knew could readily supply his place, in the event 
 of a, protracted absence. It was evident he had decided to 
 become one of our party, though far too gentlemanly to 
 think of monopolizing Stanley's society to the exclusion of 
 
60 THE MONTANAS. 
 
 Clyde, who was her legitimate escort, though he never 
 failed to join us in the evenings, no matter where he went. 
 He invariably preceded us to the Opera. On entering, we 
 were sure to behold him in some conspicuous place, often 
 leaning against one of the sculptured columns, ostensibly 
 much absorbed in the performance. However, even through 
 his well counterfeited semblance, it was manifest that his 
 indifference was unfelt ; that he was silently drinking inspi- 
 ration from Stanley's mystic presence, while she, in her 
 touching girlish beauty, w^as wholly unconscious how this 
 world-sending man, with stealthy tread, was treading the 
 avenues of her young heart — a heart from her earliest child- 
 hood so loyal to Clyde. Thus, in a few brief days were 
 swept away " the ties of long, long years." 
 
 One afternoon, returning from a shopping expedition 
 with Raymond, I ran across the corridor to Stanley's apart- 
 ment for the purpose of displaying some new purchase in 
 which she was interested. She stood before a mirror, roll- 
 ing over her taper fingers the wavy bands of golden hair, a 
 picture of unconscious loveliness, her eyes lustrous — dreamy ; 
 such misty splendor, such trusting fondness, in their 
 depths. She turned suddenly, beholding me, cast her arms 
 about my neck, blushing with a consciousness that I too 
 felt, for I held no place in her reflections then. The room 
 was filled with the odor of jasmine clusters and tea roses. 
 
 " See my flowers ! " lifting from the window-seat where it 
 stood without the Venetian blind, a goblet of silver elegantly 
 chased ; inclosed within a beautifully wrought device on one 
 side, was the little word " Stanley." Somehow there was a 
 blur in the air about me, as I inhaled the fragrance of those 
 flowers. 
 
 " From Clyde ? " I asked with apparent indifference, 
 stifling thd dull pain at my heart, to which of late I had 
 
TEE MONTANAS. 61 
 
 grown so accustomed, crushing it down as unworthy of me 
 and of our friendship. 
 
 "I imagine they came from Mr. Hayne," she answered 
 firmly, though with evident emotion. 
 
 " Was there a card ? " I persisted. 
 
 " A blank one,'' was her reply. 
 
 My mental query was, why did she suspect him of hav- 
 ing sent them ? Only because in her secret heart she would 
 have been pleased most that he was the donor of this beau- 
 tiful gift. It was like his delicacy, I mused in pursuance 
 of the thought ; he would not openly address Stanley, 
 thinking Clyde her suitor. Or else — a terrible suspicion 
 crossed my mind — would he, by these indirect means, in- 
 veigle himself into her affections without making in return 
 the slightest concession or giving her the faintest hold 
 on his ? 
 
 These were Warren's old tricks — heart-breakino- had been 
 his favorite pastime. 
 
 " To kneel at many a shrine, 
 Yet lay Ms heart at none." 
 
 I could have brought forward numberless epistles from 
 various members of the circle to which we were attached, to 
 say nothing of the convincing and convicting record of his 
 own lithe pen, recounting innumerable victories between 
 the ages of seventeen and twenty-seven, as proof positive 
 that my assertion was correct. I should have told her then 
 and there to beware ! There was a bright, bright structure 
 forming under heaven that some cruel hand would shiver 
 to atoms; gaudy tissues wea\^ng which a breath of fate 
 would scatter so widely, at the inevitable mandate of other 
 time and place, that neither might ever again find that 
 which was lost in the days whose golden sands we counted 
 
62 . TEE MONTANA S. 
 
 during the pleasant time of our sojourning there together. 
 God grant such loss raay not stand clear in heaven. 
 
 Clyde saw and felt this as I did, and fearing it was War- 
 ren's intention to trifle with Stanley, he haughtily held him 
 aloof as one unworthy his esteem and confidence. I attri- 
 buted this feeling to the sorrow he experienced in Stanley's 
 manifest preference for Warren. He spoke more and more 
 coldly to his rival : with secret misgiving I beheld this 
 silent antagonism growing up between them. I sym- 
 pathized deeply with all parties, though fearful of being 
 unjust to cousin Warren, whom I liked sincerely notwith- 
 standing his many faults and ficklenesses ; I resolved to keep 
 my own counsel, leaving to God the issue. 
 
 One of my cousin's favorite pastimes was to promenade 
 the long hall at the hotel, his princely head inclined for- 
 ward, making the outline perfect. It was thus always, 
 and thus I ever remember him — walking and waiting — in 
 other days, when we came not in answer to his summons. 
 
 He often invited Stanley to accompany him alone to the 
 theatre and other places of amusement. On such occasions 
 Clyde invariably appeared restless and wretched. I pitied 
 him, and sought to mitigate his sufi'ering and cheer him 
 with my simple songs and talk as I had often done at 
 Claremont, when my endeavor was less vain than now. 
 Once he seemed so grateful for the efi"ort, which he duly 
 appreciated, he was almost happy ; his face actually softened 
 into the pleasant smile I loved so well and had not seen for 
 so long. He was almost transformed one evening when I 
 passed to his side, indulging in the old habit of shaking 
 hands on bidding him good-night. He said suddenly, 
 speaking with vehement eagerness : 
 
 " Aljean, have you ever loved ? " The hot blood rushed 
 to my cheeks ! What right had he, Stanley's sorrowing, 
 
THE MONTANAS. 63 
 
 disappointed lover, to question me thus ? I was turning 
 away when I caught the anxious expression in his face. I 
 could not be unkind, so I answered, half recklessly : 
 
 " Yes ! I have loved, but my love is unrequited ; none 
 will^ever know " 
 
 He shrank back into his wonted silence with the look of 
 white angruish his face had often worn of late : then I left 
 him, regretting the next instant my hasty avowal, since it 
 had seemed to recall with such force and bitterness his own 
 burden of wasted affection. 
 
 On the following afternoon Clyde accompanied me on a 
 tour through the city in search of an article Aunt Edith 
 had specially requested us, if possible, to find for her. 
 Raymond was engaged in the execution of commissions for 
 Uncle Montana ; Stanley had gone driving with Warren. 
 Clyde knew that there was no one else to escort me, other- 
 wise I think he would have declined. His manner towards 
 both Stanley and myself had changed very much since the 
 acquisition of Mr. Hayne to our party. I sometimes fan- 
 cied he imao-ined us both in love with Cousin Warren, who 
 compelled us by force of example to treat him with due 
 consideration — a belief which I rather encouraged than 
 otherwise ; anything sooner than he should come to know 
 and feel my secret love for him. 
 
 Ever since that strange interview he had been more dis- 
 tant than ever ; now he appeared very patient while I over- 
 looked, assorted, matched, and purchased interminable par- 
 cels for the benefit of the household at Claremont. During 
 the measurement of a robe designed for Aunt Edith, he 
 selected a silk Marie Louise blue — ^just the color of her 
 eyes — ^brocaded with tiny sprays of lilies of the valley, for 
 Stanley. While it was being wrapped up, I myself having 
 added the trimmings, I heard him sigh heavily once or twice. 
 
64 THE MONTANAS. 
 
 " Are you not well, brother ? " I asked, compassionatelv. 
 
 " Yes, very," he answered, in a strange, hunky voice ; 
 " but, Aljean, I wish you would not call me brother ever 
 any more. I do not care to have you mock me thus." I 
 was speechless with surprise and pain ; I could not even 
 inquire what he meant by those strange words, until he 
 added : 
 
 "There is a beautiful lavender of similar pattern; will 
 you wear it ? " Did he think by this assumption of the old 
 manner to obliterate from my mind the memory and effect 
 of his capricious and cruel speech? I determined not to 
 let him see how deeply that one little sentence had wounded 
 me ; when I responded there was no pain manifest, only 
 bitter sneering in my tones. 
 
 " No ; I thank you, Mr. Ingram, I never wear lavender ; 
 it is unbecoming my complexion." 
 
 " Select your own color ; here is any shade you wish." 
 
 " I shall not make a selection," I said, with angry vehe- 
 mence. His sarcastic answer pierced me like an arrow : 
 
 " Who has objected to your accepting and wearing my 
 gift ? I have the right to ask, for some one has of late 
 influenced you against me strangely." 
 
 " Your questioning, sir, I consider unwarranted by my 
 refusal to accept what you offer. As this is from Stanley 
 you can compel her to answer you ; she who has the right 
 to object to your interrogating me, if she choose." 
 
 " My sister ; yes, she has the right, but would not avail 
 herself of it ; she has more consideration for me. I shall 
 be well content to feel assured Mr. Hayne has not the 
 right to demur to her acceptance of the little purchase I 
 made for her. Though, I am sure, I as her brother should 
 not object to her receiving gifts from whom she choose — 
 even from him, if he and she so willed it." 
 
THE MONTANAS. 65 
 
 Did lie really think to teach liis poor heart to look upon 
 her as a sister — nothing more ? Then why his an^ry ques- 
 tionmg words to me who was less to hun even than this ; 
 how had I merited them ? At the remembrance of all, my 
 wrath flashed up again, and I answered excitedly : 
 
 " Granting the truth of all you say, Mr. Ingram, is that 
 any reason you should speak as you have done to me ? I - 
 have accepted your mother's charity— it does not neces- 
 sarily follow that I should degrade myself by receiving 
 yours, or that you should insult me by offering it." 
 
 Alas ! I did not then know — for he had generously con- 
 cealed from me, from all of us, the painful fact that to hun 
 and to him alone were we indebted, one and all, for every- 
 thing ; even the very bread we ate. 
 
 He answered very sorrowfully — I wonder now how he 
 could have been so patient with me — with a forced resig- 
 nation to his fate : 
 
 " I perceive you strangely misconstrue my motive, Aljean ; 
 I meant no insult to you ; God knows I speak tnily. I 
 requested you not to call me brother, because it pains me 
 to hear you call me so ; why you do not comprehend, I 
 see ; so let it pass ; some day you will learn to know me 
 better ; then you will readily forgive my hasty words." 
 
 " I have already forgiven you, Clyde," I answered, tremu- 
 lously. Somehow that little sentence of concession had 
 melted the wall of anger suddenly arisen between us. I 
 too had been hasty ; why did not I ask pardon of him as 
 well? — ^because I was sure he would grant it whether I 
 asked it or not ; for how good and kind and forgivino- he 
 had been to me always ! 
 
 Eeturning to the hotel, we found Stanley and Warren, 
 who had preceded and were awaiting us. She sat beside 
 him on a divan ; her bonnet was of white cactus ; there 
 
66 THE MONTANA S. 
 
 were clusters of blue violets and daisies in the face-trim- 
 ming; these were so incorporated with waves and ripples 
 of sunny hair, it would have been difficult to discern the 
 exact boundary between them. On one pomt at least the 
 beholder could be specific, fearless of being inaccurate : 
 this was regarding the very beautiful roses encircled by the 
 fairy garland which had that day been invoked by Warren 
 Hayne. They were Christian roses, and manifested no 
 spirit of interference or encroachment upon their surround- 
 ings, even while they bloomed thus brilliantly, mute syni- 
 bols of his triumph. I had seen it from the first all along, 
 though I think Clyde had never realized it until that inter- 
 view. To avoid meeting his eyes, I took my seat beside 
 her, took her tiny, trembling hands in mine, and sought to 
 turn her beaming face away from his searching gaze. 
 
 Very soon Ray came back, and the three gentlemen 
 joined us at dinner, at the conclusion of which meal, at 
 the suggestion of our brother — Clyde was not our brother 
 any more — we repaired to the parlor ; the gentlemen, 
 excepting Warren, w^ho never smoked, decided to forego 
 their cherished cigars in lieu of the "family chat" which 
 they proposed. Warren was in full force that evening ; it 
 was the next thing to impossible to avoid growing genial in 
 his presence ; ere the conclusion of the second glass of 
 champagne he became exceedingly voluble, saying some 
 very "witty things with true Southern dash, and many 
 friendly winning ones with such heartiness it was, as I 
 before hinted, akin to impossible to resist their influence : 
 even Clyde apparently became pacified and companionable. 
 
 During the course of the evening the conversation 
 assumed a political form; that quicksand Stanley and 
 I, as cicerones, had hitherto sought to a^oid ; our endea- 
 vor in this instance had been worse than useless. 
 
THE MONTANAS. 67 
 
 I really feared for Ray, who blurted out his opinions 
 without stint or reservation. He expressed a con\dctiou 
 that the " Republican candidate for the Presidency would be 
 elected by a sectional element, not by the voice of a united 
 people ; in almost any event he fancied the Republic would 
 be dismembered, and dissolution be the final result. This 
 he had long apprehended, an event which never seemed so 
 likely to ensue as now. The institution of slavery had 
 ever been a pretext to agitators, an eyesore to both North 
 and South. It is a question of vast import to the South 
 in estimating the value and interest of the Gulf States, 
 where white labor is unavailable ; though it should be a con- 
 sideration of little moment to those North, who are the 
 first to cry out, ' Down with it ! let slavery be for ever ex- 
 tinguished! ' " • ' ■ 
 
 " You do not, you cannot, even though you maintain 
 slavery to be right, and justifiable in the sight of God and 
 man, claim the premises that it is advantageous to any com- 
 munity, in whatever section their lot may be cast," remarked 
 Warren earnestly. "I hold it to be a festering evil, a 
 chasm bridged over by custom, sustained by the pillars, 
 now rotten and cinimbhng, upon which it was reared — an 
 institution fit only for the darker ages ; a structure whose 
 foundation-stone came from heathendom. The world has 
 made gigantic evolutions, from generation to generation, 
 through vast areas of progress, with this Gorgon of the feudal 
 period clinging to the power-wheels of civilization. The 
 scales have drooped one by one from the brightening eyes 
 of nations, each of whom has been born again into a glo- 
 rious realm of freedom ! America stands alone. Even the 
 universal revolution has long since crossed the ocean ; the 
 North rose up in its strength, as one man ; humanity, with 
 probe and knife removed the moral cancer from her vitals 
 
68 THE MOXTANAS. 
 
 shook from the strong limbs of the people, in at least one 
 portion of the Republic, the lethargy that had bound them 
 in a state of inactivity. By her magnanimous example the 
 bondman was made free. 
 
 "But your country, that vaunted, boasted land of the 
 sunny South ! the canker is yet in her glorious heart, the 
 poison of this system in her veins, retarding every attempt 
 at progression, a malaria binding her to the rack of feudal 
 deformity — a lamentable condition of mental and physical 
 inanity. 
 
 " Russia stands stronger to-day than when the structure 
 of her national pomp and pride was reared upon the pil- 
 lars of serfdom ; so would it be with you, if from your 
 system of government this evil was purged out. It is pro- 
 lific of convulsions ! for the giants in intellect among you, 
 and these are comparatively few, there are thousands who 
 are helplessly and hopelessly dwarfed, cringing in vales of 
 wretchedness, ignorance, and poverty. It is a diplomatic 
 and adroit process of sifting the rights of the small from 
 the wrongs of the great ! or rather rights of the few from 
 the wrongs of a multitude ! This is your boasted system of 
 human slavery. The iron heel of its pernicious usages 
 grinds the white laborer down to a condition infinitely 
 worse than that of the most abject servitude." 
 
 " You are right there," Clyde answered blandly ; " the 
 blacks enjoy amenities and privileges from which the 
 poorer class of whites are debarred. To those who chance 
 to be personally acquainted with these facts, your argument 
 in favor of improving the condition of the negroes sounds 
 strangely inconsistent. In nine cases out of ten they are 
 satisfied with their condition, and would not exchange their 
 present state for all the immunities of a freedom the signi- 
 ficance of which they have not the power to comprehend. 
 
THE MONTANAS 69 
 
 I understand tlie subject well, and realize how mucli supe- 
 rior in circumstance and destiny are those held in lineal 
 servitude to the poorer class of whites. In nine cases out 
 of ten, as I before remarked, you would n6t better the con- 
 dition of the slave." 
 
 " That may be so ; I am not pleading the cause of the 
 negro at the tribunal of these fair arbitresses ; it is only 
 the cause of humanity. By your own admission, the con- 
 dition of nine-tenths of your net population is infinitely 
 worse than that of the lineal bondsmen. Oh, were this 
 crushing, bindings burden but taken from the shoulders of 
 these poor men, that they might come up gradually from 
 the mazes of their ignorance — come to feel that they are 
 in truth men among men, and learn to comprehend in its 
 fullest significance all the dignity and power implied in the 
 term, to stand as freemen, shoulder to shoulder, heart to 
 heart ; then there would be a new order of things. Ave- 
 nues would open as if by magic ; through those shining 
 portals vistas of a higher destiny would become visible; 
 feet now wandering in poverty, faltering in obscurity, 
 would soon learn to walk firmly and hopefully the sunnier 
 life-track. 
 
 " There is a work, a great work for the present age to 
 perform ; the pathway to it is beaten and blood-stained : 
 toiling up from the stand-point of black-pinioned doubt 
 millions of freemen will come scattering life and treasure, 
 the nation's bone and sinew, by the way, to the goal of 
 this end. 
 
 '' I am convinced, as well as him who sees the end from 
 the beginning, that the liberation of the slave, the white 
 man's advancement towards the civilization in which pos- 
 terity will rejoice and thank us for, united under the 
 flaming head of freedom, will be triumphant." 
 
10 THE MONTANAS. 
 
 " Then it will be a triumph dearly won," answered 
 Clyde, with flashing eyes. " Even the cause which you 
 vaunt as a pretext must elude you ; for the South, rich 
 and poor, great a^d small, bond and free, will stand up as 
 one man to defeat your purpose ; high hearts will bleed 
 and break, and their death-throes will shake your govern- 
 ment to its very centre and convulse the material universe 
 ere this shall come to pass." 
 
 I have often since recalled this prophecy of Clyde's, 
 though none of us seemed to feel or scarcely to heed it 
 then, and by some adroit strategy on our part the con- 
 versation was changed. They talked now of the beautiful 
 countries through which they all had passed ; where War- 
 ren Hayne, more especially, had grown rich in those men- 
 tal treasures which made his society a resource so prized 
 by all — invaluable to a young enthusiast like Stanley. On 
 that occasion I remember he talked magnificently; there 
 was such power in his eloquence, coupled with the lofty 
 charm of his manner, such grandeur in the personality 
 thus asserted. I too was captivated, and appreciated my 
 cousin more than ever before ; he possessed a strange 
 capacity to magnetize his auditors. Now, while he spoke 
 of Germany, we listened to the chime of Bohemian bells 
 and heard the sounds of the rushing Rhine : he glided on 
 to other themes, themes world-wide and comprehensive ; 
 we beheld spheres rhetorical and metaphorical spheres 
 evolving through the mystic spaces of his thought, bathed 
 in sunlit mists, embalmed in the fragrance of their flowers ; 
 we seemed to hear two sweet strains of soul music while 
 he thus grandly swept young heart-strings that were 
 twining into the recesses of his own, with what power and 
 effect only God knew. 
 
 I scarce knew whether I most joyed or sorrowed for the 
 
THE MONT ANAS. 7] 
 
 turn affairs had taken ; I could not but listen sometimes 
 to the deep voice of hope in my own being whispering, 
 it is best; but when I looked on Stanley's face, which 
 darted occasional glances of unrest into my own, owing to 
 some undefined cause, or upon Clyde, who was at times so 
 moody and watchful, I felt it would perhaps have been 
 better for all if we could have had the old time back with- 
 out the added sunshine of this new presence. 
 
 Cousin Warren made one of our party to Nahant ; to 
 my surprise we there encountered the Soules and the Aus- 
 tins from Xew Orleans. Now I had just cause for disliking 
 Retta Austin ; she had been a pupil at the same academy 
 in which Stanley and myself, as Ray jestingly remarked, 
 had " climbed the hill of science ;" there I had held her 
 aloof, after the fashion of school-girls, though now, with 
 characteristic littleness, she deemed it politic to avail her- 
 self of the acquaintance in consideration of the gentlemen 
 attached to our party, though it was easy to see and feel 
 she had not quite forgotten or forgiven the old score. 
 From her first introduction to Warren she persisted in 
 claiming a portion of his time, even at the expense of her 
 delicacy and his manifest preference for Stanley. 
 
 The days passed very charmingly in this ocean-girded 
 retreat ; each was fall to the brim of that busily-idle pre- 
 carious life of pleasure, which is ever succeeded by a sense 
 of loss or a consciousness of wanting something to occupy the 
 void they leave behind them. Such seasons of exaltation 
 are ever followed by periods of corresponding depression. 
 
 Meanwhile, mists were fleecing and thickening on the far- 
 rolling sea ; sunshine mellowing on the paths in which we 
 often walked or drove ; summer song-birds drew feathery 
 mantles closer about shivering little forms, wet with ocean 
 spray, and trooping, chattered of their southward voyage. 
 
12 THE MONTANA S. 
 
 We, too, began to think of returning to Ridgely, often 
 wondering, as many a summer party has done before, if we 
 should ever meet again. Aye ! perhaps. Ere we came, 
 the life journey ended to a darker ocean-side, if not beyond 
 seas. 
 
 Warren's fiiend, Milverton, too, had joined us at Nahant. 
 We found him a valuable acquisition to our party ; so genial, 
 so quick in his perception and comprehension of things ; 
 so witty and voluble, we could scarcely realize that we had 
 actually existed previous to his arrival. He saw there was 
 something amiss, and set himself at work to discover and 
 amend it. I knew not how it all came about, but Clyde 
 was feeling better, I found, as the days went by. Pride 
 had served him in good stead ; he was strong, and in my 
 secret heart I honored him for his triumph and dignified 
 submission to what was apparently inevitable. I was very 
 kind to Clyde, more so than I had been for months. Once 
 I caught his eyes fixed upon me with a queer expression of 
 inquiry — timid, yet full of meaning — which I dared not in- 
 terpret according to the dictates of my own feelings. Stan- 
 ley's deportment towards him was that of a sister ; he 
 rarely caressed, never repelled her. Raymond was the 
 brightest spirit in our midst ; he permitted nothing to mar 
 the harmony of our days together there, now rapidly draw- 
 ing to a close. 
 
 One early evening I sat with Clyde beside a low window, 
 listening to the crashing waves beneath. Afar out upon 
 the trackless deep a solitary ship was ploughing her fearless 
 pathway into the unknown. Clyde spoke no word, only 
 pointed to the isolated sail — in the swift breeze fluttering 
 like a thing of Kfe. 
 
 " Clyde," said I, after a long pause, " will you tell me 
 why you will not let me call you brother ? " 
 
THE MONTANAS, 73 
 
 " Aljean, I have asked myself that question many times ; 
 you answered it once /or all time.'''' 
 
 " When — where ? " I asked, in my eagerness. 
 
 "In the parlor at the Tremont one evening when we 
 were alone together." 
 
 What, because I had avowed my unrequited love, was 
 that sufficient reason why he should refuse me his bro- 
 therly affection ? 1 was growing restive and uncomforta- 
 ble. I was very glad when Raymond joined us and com- 
 menced talking to Clyde on some business matter be- 
 tween them, and Warren, sauntering that way, claimed 
 me for a promenade ; he held my hand, as he always did 
 when we walked together. I imagine Cousin Warren was 
 well aware of the fascination which his presence exerted ; I 
 even, I who often warred with him, could not wholly resist it ; 
 however vindictive and resentful in his absence, I was inva- 
 riably amicable w^hen he was by my side. This influence 
 was extended to all who came within the circle of it. How 
 he contrived, under the semblance of his kingly indifi"er- 
 ence, to comprehend my struggle between liking and dis- 
 approbation — to assimilate these contesting elements and 
 cause me to forget everything save that his full dark eyes 
 were upon me in cousinly afi'ection and confidence — is more 
 than I shall ever be able to" account for. Upon the occar 
 sion above referred to, he said earnestly : 
 
 " One more week of bliss, such as the gods might envy, 
 and then — oh! how desolate I shall be when you are 
 gone ! " Accustomed as was Warren to this phraseology, 
 wrapping rhetorical tissues about empty words, oftentimes 
 with no other object than to conceal an indifierence he 
 really felt, I believed him to be serious now ; though for 
 once fact was stronger than fancy ; though I replied in a 
 jesting manner : " Ha ! ha I my anchorite has decided to 
 
 4 
 
74 THE MONTANAS. 
 
 play the sentimentalist ! Well, the character becomes you, 
 trifler that you are. Oh ! cousin, you are so wretchedly fickle 
 there is no trusting what you say. You will go to Cape May 
 or Atlantic City and forget us all in a fortnight ; in antici- 
 pation of this melancholy oblivion I forewarn you, Stanley, 
 and I may follow your illustrious example in that regard." 
 
 " Jennie, you are unjust to me as usual. Even you, wilful 
 witch that you are, I could not forget if I were to try, 
 Stanley — " lowering his voice at the mention of her name, 
 until its tones were rich, full, almost reverent — "to forget 
 her would be to forget the world of women, the universe of 
 glorious nature, its birds, flowers, and sunshine ; its light 
 and music; the heaven and hope beyond; in short, a total 
 obli\'ion of all things, for she is all of these ; she is life itself 
 to me — ^the only perfect woman I have ever known. You 
 may look surprised and incredulous, as I see you have a 
 mind to do, but if I had lived among such women I should 
 never have been the heartless cynic, the male flirt, the world 
 esteems me to day." 
 
 " If Stanley has faith in your words, I should be msane to 
 doubt their truth." I looked into his face ; he seemed 
 moody and reflective, sad withal ; then spoke more in re- 
 sponse to his own thought than in answer to my adroitly 
 worded sui^srestion : 
 
 " She does not know it yet; shall never know, unless her 
 own heart first teaches her the beautiful trath." 
 
 Quick a?i lightning a conviction crashed through my heart- 
 strings. I looked at "Wan-en ; there was a strange set fiminess 
 about his mouth so unlike the expression upon Stanley's pure 
 face, with its roses and frame-work of falling curls, as she 
 passed us in the promenade, all radiant in the twilight, leaning 
 on the arm of Milverton. Would Warren dare to trifle with 
 her ? A bitter rejoinder sprang to my lips, but the mist 
 
THE MONT AN AS. 75 
 
 cleared away from before my eyes as I felt the magnetic 
 pressure of his hand, and felt his own reading mv thoughts, 
 while the serenity that was habitual to both resumed its 
 empire again. 
 
 " No, Warren, you will not miss our party ; even here 
 there are some pleasant people, two or three whom you 
 may find sufficiently charming to beguile the hours of 
 our lamented absence. I am sure you will not lack for 
 entertainment ; then there cannot exist the faintest pretext 
 for ennui within the circte of your favorite, Retta Austin. 
 She has spirit enough to animate a whole party ; she is 
 highly combustible, however, and may at least endanger 
 your broadcloth. No one can tell to what length she might 
 go in her wild pranks, if Jane was not constantly checking 
 her. I am sure you will not be permitted to grow tame in 
 such company." 
 
 " Miss Austin is not a favorite of yours," remarked Cou- 
 sin Warren loftily, as though he held such trifling variances 
 far beneath his gentlemanly consideration. I appreciated 
 his exclusiveness, and in this instance, so I answered 
 carelessly : " Oh, no ! if I cared anything at all about her I 
 should do violence to my sense of justice if I did not dis- 
 like her very much. I understand her thoroughly ; could 
 not avoid conning -the distasteful lesson during my daily 
 contact with her in our school days. Her assumption of 
 artlessness, which she vainly seeks to vaunt under cover of 
 versatility, is but another cloak for her wilful and intricate 
 designs. During our residence at the Academy, I have seen 
 these dangerous qualities brought to bear upon many a 
 guilelesss school-girl who had chanced to incur Retta's 
 haughty displeasure by excelling her in some pursuit, render- 
 ing the probability of her missing the first premium almost 
 certain. In such cases she would not scruple to forge and 
 
76 THE MONTANAS. 
 
 fabricate, until she had amassed evidence suflScient to cause 
 the young lady's dismissal. Being a favorite with the pre- 
 ceptress, she usually succeeded in any undertaking upon 
 which she had set her head and heart. Now you will under- 
 stand why I say it is dangerous to deal with her, and why I 
 repeat the assertion. If I had any feeling other than perfect 
 indifference for her, it would be one of distrust and dislike." 
 
 " You are evidently not a favorite ^vith her ? " he answered, 
 seeming to grow more interested in my narrative, smiling 
 meantime at my warmth, " and she is at least frank enough 
 in this instance to make no effort to conceal the fact." 
 
 " It is a palpable case. I unmasked her once, and she, 
 measuring my spirit by her own very narrow one, vaunts 
 her revenge as an offset to the contempt she imagines I feel 
 for her, which I am astonished that I do not feel, though I 
 do not hesitate to express the opinion hitherto asserted, that 
 Retta Austin is a dangerous woman — even as a friend — 
 treacherous as lago ! " 
 
 " Precisely," said Cousin Warren ; " and this is the woman 
 into whose false fair clutches you would have me surrender 
 myself in the event of your absence." 
 
 " I retract, Warren," I answered, with mock symptoms 
 of relenting ; " it may be dull for you here, but you have 
 many resources independent of her or any other woman. 
 I have accused you of being fickle in some respects ; but 
 in this instance the impression will last beyond the hour. 
 I do not think it will fade before the snow has fallen to 
 chill the life from your beautiful summer-flowers." 
 
 We scarce lifted our eyes in recognition as a beautiful 
 woman swept by us with a lofty glance, and just the pre- 
 text of a nod in my direction, though I saw her own bent 
 in pride and passion on Cousin Warren ; it was Retta 
 Austin ; fi*om that hour I knew her secret welL 
 
THE MONTANAS. 77 
 
 At this juncture Stanley joined us ; Warren offered her 
 his arm. I laughingly remarked that I should leave them, 
 through fear of relapsing into a terrible third. 
 
 " Not at all," answered Warren rapidly. " I have nothing 
 to say to Miss Montana which I should not say fearlessly if 
 all the world stood listenino-." 
 
 True ! I had seen it in Stanley's face in those days at 
 Boston ; the pleasant drives to Haverhill, Melrose, and during 
 long quiet lingerings upon the velvet turf of the beautiful 
 common, with that bright young face by his side, had 
 taught her to love him, and in return he had no ivords for 
 her which all the world might not hear. We three were 
 silent for a long time ; Warren was the first to speak. 
 
 " AATiither will you bend your course from here ? though 
 really I shall know whether you take the trouble to answer 
 me or not. Satellites invariably gravitate towards the one 
 great solar centre. It will be thus with all Miss Montana's 
 friends and admirers ; there too in that bright orbit I shall 
 run my destined . circle, whether to bliss or misery who 
 shall say. Emerson, I think it was, whose definition of fate 
 was ' free will.' I will demonstrate the truth or falsity of 
 his assertion." Stanley's cheeks hung out white signals of 
 pain ! For her sake I answered for us both. 
 
 " We are not to delegate to ourselves the slightest com- 
 pliment in the appropriation of your well-meant gallantry, 
 cousin, since in obeying this recognised law of ' gravitation ' 
 which forces you into our orbit, insomuch as you are so 
 unwilling a victim to the martyrdom imposed by the science 
 which governs the centripetal and centrifugal forces of our 
 being ; leaving you no alternative but submission." Next 
 instant I repented having said so much. Warreft was tco 
 wretched to make any response to my raillery ; I sincerely 
 pitied him without knowing why it was he should suffer thus. 
 
78 THE MONT AX AS. 
 
 On the morning following we drove upon the beach. 
 Raymond had gone up to the city on business; AVarren 
 took his place in the carriage — so there was only we four. 
 Clyde escorted me ; he and Warren had, it seemed, enjoyed 
 a much better understanding of late ; when Stanley and I left 
 them to dress for the drive, they locked arms, much to our 
 surprise, and walked to and fro together in the morning sun- 
 shine. There were many things that to me were utterly 
 incomprehensible, only because all this while 1 had regarded 
 Clyde's passion for Stanley in the light of a stubborn fact, 
 had grown to accept it as a matter of course, attributing 
 to him feelings foreign to his nature or intention ; though 
 bj' look or word he had never, save in my estimation, 
 revealed more than a brother's affection for her. What an 
 inexorable tyrant love is ! often rushing us blindly into 
 some conclusion which brings upon its swift wings only 
 misery. He and Warren had never been other than kind 
 to each other, except in my thought; baning that first 
 bitter siispicion of Clyde's that Warren might prove traitor 
 to Stanley's pure young love. 
 
 Adovrn the beach we passed — we four together in the 
 bright morning sunshine. What cool and refreshing 
 breezes from the sea ! what exhilaration in the very air we 
 breathed ! Our steeds stinick fiery sparks from the pebbly 
 road while bearing us along with a motion so rapid it left 
 us no time for thought. Stanley and WaiTcn were so 
 happy they asked of the Infinite nothing beyond this day 
 and its glory ; no hope, no promise for the morrow. Be- 
 tween Clyde and myself there was only silence I 
 
 " There is a silence which hath been no sound, 
 There is a sUence which no sound may be." 
 
 I could find no word — ^he sought none ; we two sat thus 
 
THE MOKTANAS. 79 
 
 with eyes wandering out upon the sleeping deeps — very 
 stilly they Avere in the morning light, which caressed white- 
 winged fleets in the far harbor — and hovered about the 
 city with its surging tides of human life with a radiance 
 like the widespread circling pinions of Deity. 
 
 We returned by way of a circuitous route, which brought 
 us to another entrance of the hotel : as we were beincr 
 handed from the carriage by Milverton, who anticipated 
 our attendants in the performance of that duty, Stanley's 
 dress was caught and held by a tack from a trunk which 
 stood upon the steps, evidently but just dislodged from a 
 travelliuo- cab which vet stood in waitiuo;. 
 
 " There is something in your way^'' remarked our obse- 
 quious gallant, waggishly glancing from Stanley to Warren, 
 who had lent his efficient service to disengage the fabric. 
 He gave a start of surprise as the name on the trunk — that 
 of a rich heiress in Philadelphia, at the shrine of whose 
 charins he had been a devotee — caught his eye. He lifted 
 ^is face to Milverton with a queer expression neither of us 
 understood. 
 
 " Come, Warren, old fellow, you are to do penance hence- 
 forth. I will take my oath it is not me she is after," was 
 Milverton's comforting remark to his friend, who escorted 
 Stanley to the parlor, where he left her in a maze of fitful 
 abstraction, bowing merely, without requesting, as he always 
 did on leaving us, that he might soon be permitted to see 
 us «ao:ain. 
 
 We spent most of the day in our own apartment. How 
 sweetly Stanley looked, with her curls gathered in a net, 
 through whose silken meshes rebellious rings of gold would 
 break fi'om masses of the chestnut, seeming to mock in their 
 sunny radiance the look of patient waiting on her lovely 
 •face. Milverton and Clyde attended us at dinner, Ray 
 
80 THE MOKTANAS. 
 
 being still absent ; neither was "Warren present. When we 
 came into the ball-room in the evening, he was there, the 
 centre of a group, an imperious blonde hanging on his arm. 
 Her form was perfect, though her features were almost ex- 
 pressionless ; her blue eyes sleepy without being languid ; 
 her manner haughty, almost to sternness. They were con- 
 versing with a pompous grey-haired gentleman with very 
 heavy watch-seal and gold-headed cane, who I readily 
 suspected was her father, judging from their resemblance to 
 each other. 
 
 It was evident she had heard of us, for she turned to take 
 a surv^ey of our party as we entered ; Milverton, perhaps, 
 had told her something, for her gaze, though well bred, 
 seemed to grow pitiless and hard as it rested on Stanley. 
 I read the secret of those hau2:htv blue eyes as I had done 
 that of another pair of eyes on the previous evening. The 
 deduction was palpable. Warren Hayne was engaged to 
 this woman ! She had doubtless been informed, as I before 
 hinted, of his apparent devotion to the Southern belle, and 
 had come down to Xahant for the purpose of warning her 
 captive to his chains again. This then was why his love 
 for my friend had never been spoken ; why he would wait 
 until Stanley's heart had taught her the truth. The dead 
 weight on my heart seemed crushing it into a far more 
 fearful silence than that which hitherto had bound it. 
 
 Retta Austin went into a series of transports at the 
 present aspect of affairs; looked all kinds of triumph — a 
 process to which Stanley appeared entirely oblivious and 
 impervious — as she swept down the centre of the room, 
 leaninor on the arm of her handsome brother, peerless, defy- 
 ing competition ; a shower of white tulle falling in snowy 
 waves about her person, swaying with each graceful undu- 
 lation of her lithe form — the very impersonation of " Holmes's 
 
THE MONTANA S. 81 
 
 golden blonde." I had never been so proud of ber as at that 
 moment. " The arrowy light " seemed to follow and lin2:er 
 with her ; a very spirit of loveliness " brightening the scene." 
 If my darling was heart-sick, Warren Hajoie should not know 
 it. How in my soul I honored that brave little woman for 
 the manner in which she kept this resolve ! I saw how War- 
 ren's eyes followed her, the same deep mystery and subdued 
 lustre in their depths which I had seen there in the mominrr. 
 
 Many of Stanley's admirers at Nahant, who had given 
 way to him as to one having superior claims — partly from re- 
 spect to Mr. Hayne, again because they cared not to come into 
 open competition with that gentleman, in a race for favor, in- 
 volving certain defeat to themselves — now seeing his immola- 
 tion, gathered about her in mute profession of the homage 
 they felt. She appeared so gay, so brilliantly animated, even 
 I was puzzled to decide if the assumption was real. It was 
 strange to see how composed and self-sustained she was ; 
 while he was correspondingly moody, sullen, and wretched. 
 The chain he had worn so lightly hitherto, now galled him 
 bitterly. I had never known this polished man of the 
 world so entirely at a loss as upon that occasion. 
 
 Milverton, considerate fellow that he was, charitably 
 claimed Warren's fiancee for a polka; it was amusing to 
 behold with what alacrity he resigned her to his friend and 
 came at once to us. When within the enchanted circle of 
 Stanley's pure presence " Richard was himself again." She 
 smiled calmly, never once by look or act admitting that 
 she felt his omission of the morning ; for he had been so 
 constant previously in his devotion to our party it could 
 be regarded in no other light. He was piqued at her appa- 
 rent indifference, and grew positively angry when some 
 favored friend of Raymond's led her forward to the dance. 
 
 Ah ! how vain his wrath then ! I smiled when my eyes 
 
 4* 
 
82 TEE MONTANA S. 
 
 sought those of our tragedy king, for I really enjoyed his 
 discomfiture. 
 
 " I imagine you have enjoyed a charming tete-a-tete 
 with your new-found friend," I remarked, as he came 
 nearer. With cool sarcasm he answered : 
 
 " To those who do not know better I might admit that 
 I had ; but to you, who are informed that the contrary is 
 true,- 1 do not hesitate to repeat / have not^ Retta Aus- 
 tin watched him from a distant sofa, never once taking her 
 black eyes,^ which shone like basilisks, from his face. 
 
 " Cousin Warren," I said again, more gently now, for I 
 pitied him, though with terrible meaning in my words, for 
 I also pitied Stanley, "you have two women's hearts 
 under your heel ! Which will you decide to crush, one or 
 both?" He sprang hastily at the conclusion ; speaking so 
 vehemently, I was really alarmed to see the cold, proud 
 man thus moved. 
 
 "Tell me frankly, Jenny — much depends upon my 
 knowledge of these facts — do you think Miss Montana 
 cares in the least for me, or does she love Ingram? 
 If I could bring myself to feel they really loved each 
 other, my course would then be clear; I should not 
 for an instant hesitate. In the other instance to which 
 there is reference in your meaning, I can assure you there 
 would be no heart broken, simply because there is none to 
 break. On the contrary, if I should crush Stanley's, with 
 it I should set an iron heel upon my own. I have not 
 spoken a tithe of what is in my heart for her, because in 
 many regards it seemed not quite honorable so to do: 
 though to none other am I bound by a positive promise. 
 Miss Straw-bridge, in our New York circle, has been so 
 accustomed to receive my attention she has come to look 
 upon it as a matter of course to regard the monopoly as 
 
THE MONTANA S. 83 
 
 her right rather than her pri\dlege. Tell me, Jennie, be- 
 fore Miss Montana joins us again; I must know, and shall 
 know sooner or later." 
 
 " Question your own heart, Warren, if hers has not 
 long since taught her this lesson ? follow whither this 
 knowledge may lead you." 
 
 He gave his arm to Stanley as she came up flushed with 
 the exercise of dancing ; she leant upon it, paling slightly 
 beneath his burning gaze. The atmosphere of the room 
 furnished sufficient pretext for his leading her to the veran- 
 da that they might get a cool breath from the sea. AATien 
 they passed the low window near to which I sat, I saw 
 that he had taken both her hands in his, and heard him 
 ask distinctly, in tones hoarse with suspense and suf- 
 ferino; : 
 
 " Shall not this wretched mockery cease ? " 
 I heard not the answer she gave, for just then I went to 
 dance with Clyde. Once, as we again neared the window, I 
 saw them walking to and fro. I could not forbear a trium- 
 phant leer in the direction of Miss Austin in retaliation for 
 the glance she had sent after Stanley early in the evening. 
 The quadrille ended ; we two, Clyde and myself, came 
 out to join them where they stood looking out upon the 
 broad expanse of water, over which the solitary ship with 
 single sail had passed to the further tides. How deep and 
 dark appeared that sea, outspread under the stars of hea- 
 ven ! A cold, white moon uprose in the sky. What 
 should we prophesy ? There was no speck or blemish in all 
 its bright expanse. The ship was out of sight, swift glid- 
 ing towards a port of the unknown. Again the bright 
 river, as it ran through my morning dream, crossed my 
 memory. A beam from the ghastly-faced moon, as she 
 skulked within the gathering mists, cast of Stanley and 
 
84 THE MONTANA S. 
 
 WaiTen a joint image on the sanded floor, " while pulse to 
 pulse and heart to heart was beating " — one little shadow 
 united, nothing more ! 
 
 Was this the all of love immortal as Deity? We shall 
 see. 
 
 Overhead God'i stars were shining ! Beneath their ra- 
 diance we trod the pathway of in\'incible destiny. 
 
 CHAPTER YI. 
 
 " There is no future pang 
 Can deal the justice on the self-condemned, 
 He deals on his soul." 
 
 Bybok's Manfbed. 
 
 " Stan, you little princess ! " exclaimed Raymond, kissing 
 her with great vehemence, when the engagement was made 
 known to him ; " Hayne is the best match in all New York ! 
 Half the women there are dying for him ; he is a kind of 
 Adonis." 
 
 " How sublimely selfish, Ray," I ejaculated, by way of 
 response ; " you expect to settle in this locality. I have 
 not forgotten your penchant for Mary Kingswell." 
 
 " Neither have I," he answered, smiling. " By the way, 
 Jennie, how does it happen you did not succeed in captivat- 
 ing some one of the legion beaux at Xahant ? You might 
 well have ' stooped to conquer ' another so elegant a fellow 
 as Warren." 
 
 I dared not look up — I was conscious that Clyde's eyes 
 were upon me ; when once for an instant I met his glance, 
 it was so full of as^onized tender reo^ret (for Stanlev's loss I 
 thought), tempered with an appeal that was like gall to 
 my spirit, remembered in after years. 
 
THE MONTANA S. 85 
 
 Leaving Milverton and Havne at the sea- side, we came 
 back to Ridgely in the grey gloaming of an early autumn 
 morn. We four ; the atmosphere of a nameless change 
 about us, other than the one we knew of, into which had 
 been infused the subtle essence of a new presence. Sur- 
 rounded by love's delightful atmosphere, Stanley glided 
 back into the quiet life so long forsaken. Somehow we all 
 fell into the home ways at Ridgely, naturally as though we 
 had never left them off; and the calm, broad, peaceful cur- 
 rent had not been turned aside, and we tried our strenoth 
 upon a deeper ocean of thought, feeling, and suffering. 
 There were our mornings breaking in glorious light and 
 beauty over the New Hampshire hills ; and our evenings, 
 when the father joined us in our walks upon the terrace or 
 lounged with Ray and Clyde upon the velvet turf, whilst 
 we wove acacia buds into wreaths and tied frail mignonette 
 blossoms into garlands for their brows, thinking how the 
 dead wife in Ike Marvel's "Reveries" had loved it; and 
 what a sad thing it would be to exchange the beautiful 
 world, with its flowers and sunshine, for the decay and 
 darkness of that terrible realm of the unknown. There 
 were no unquiet thoughts in this dreamy spot ; we had left 
 the tumult amid the gaieties of Nahant— in the heat and 
 dust of the great metropolis. The glow came back even 
 to Clyde's classic face, and a strange prophetic rest to my 
 own tired heart. 
 
 How graduaUy, yet naturally, Ray and Mary came to 
 withdraw themselves from our midst; and during long, 
 golden afternoons, to wander off in shady by-paths to con- 
 verse in gentler, deeper tones— in short, to love each other 
 more than all the world beside. I have never known a 
 couple so entirely assimilated in disposition, taste, and feel- 
 ing. Love to them was a calm, placid stream, upon which 
 
86 THE MONTANAS. 
 
 to launch their bark of life, whose current was a deeper 
 peace. To us was left the regal flow, over whose crystal 
 deeps we dashed onward mid rocks, wrecks to the eternal 
 sea outspread beyond. Is there a fate linking the least of 
 these sentiments with the Infinite ? and must the process 
 needs be one of simple peace or deep, deep suffering, ac- 
 cording as our natures require the chastening ? Through tho 
 medium of these tender heart-chords does the Father seek 
 to draw unto Himself agraiu His world-wan derinor children. 
 
 I remember one evening, Stanley's head, with its wealth 
 of golden brightness, was resting on my shoulder while the 
 gentlemen talked. Mr. Kingswell conversed with them fre- 
 quently and earnestly ; he never opened his mouth but 
 pearls of wisdom dropped from it. How sagely he dealt 
 with life ! Each simple stricture contained a lesson worth 
 enshrining. We were fully conscious that his words were 
 per^^aded by a deeper, more subtle philosophy than sages 
 usually propagate or men of God at all times practise. On 
 this occasion their subject was one — a man who was es- 
 teemed among the great of this earth. Clyde remarked, 
 cursorily : 
 
 " I truly s}Tnpathize with him ; he has outlived his 
 generation, or rather he has fallen behind the age in which 
 he lived. Companions of his"^ mid-life orgies are widely 
 scattered ; of all who revelled with him, very few" are left ; 
 many who set out with him at the commencement of the 
 journey have passed on. He walks the streets of his ow^n 
 city ; the curious peer at him from every window ; old, 
 familiar faces one by one have gone further into the mists 
 beyond; homes where he was wont to go at evening, an 
 ever-welcome guest, bear strange inscriptions upon their 
 door-plates. What must be his feeling to know the world 
 that he has served through all his life has 'thus changed to 
 
THE MONTANA S. 87 
 
 him ? The reflection must indeed be a melancholy one ; 
 for he too is changed and grown unacquainted with its 
 simplest usages. I can think of no one more, deserving my 
 pity, and that of all men." 
 
 " How few of our great men," remarked Mr. Kingswell in 
 answer, " learn, until some unpleasant necessity forces upon 
 them the simple truth — the world is Satan's taskmaster ! 
 Those who do most to deserve its favor are those who 
 oftentimes incur its severest censure. Besides, this man 
 was a faithful disciple of his tutor; he has been one of the 
 most noted Hbertines of his day. How many a simple- 
 minded girl, chaste and pure before breathing the dreadful 
 miasma surrounding him, has taken then the first step in 
 that downward path within whose mazes he, the last of all 
 his victims, has lost the way ; perhaps for all eternity. To 
 such I accord my sympathy and regard as exceedingly 
 unjust ; a tribunal which would exclude from all charity his 
 -victims, while exalting and heaping its honors upon the 
 man who has made these heartless triumphs, and consti- 
 tuted them the stepping-stones to advancement within the 
 ^rea of his ignominious celebrity." 
 
 Raymond here observed between pufls of his Havana, omi- 
 nously incorporating with white wreaths, blue ones of smoke : 
 
 " The vanity and self-lov e of some men are absolutely dis- 
 gusting ; judging from the manner in which they parade 
 their debaucheries, one might imagine they considered every 
 species of error in which they chose to indulge as being 
 really exalted by their august participation. After having 
 warred all their lives through with purity and uprightness, 
 at last, upon the score of their very degradation, claiming 
 amnesty from the God of truth and justice." 
 
 Mr. Kingswell then remarked : 
 
 " Ah ! but they cannot do this ; it is not in the power of 
 
88 THE MONTANA S. 
 
 man to do. Even tliose whose souls commune witb and in- 
 terpret rightly the commands and exactions of Deity — those 
 who are mighty in intellect — who can make stepping-stones 
 of mountain peaks, and move within an area of the stars — 
 cannot sin without coming dowTi from those proud heights 
 for which they have toiled, thus nearing the everlasting 
 sun. The spirit just begun to rejoice in its freedom is 
 dragged back to the dusty highway of earth, where it 
 
 grovelled first ere its fetters were rent in twain. R is 
 
 one who has thus sinned in the face of Revelation and con- 
 science, possessing the fine tastes of a mind born to a 
 hifirher heritage. When tlie awakening comes, and these 
 faculties assert themselves, he will be of all men the most 
 miserable. He may wrap gaudy tissues about the form of 
 sin ; but she will one day shake them ofi", and appear before 
 him in all her loathsome deformity; a coarse, repulsive 
 courtezan, assuming a thousand disgusting and repulsive 
 aspects with which his higher nature cannot longer assimi- 
 late. The soul will not trail its glory-tipped pinions 'mid 
 the dust of the senses ; heavenward it soars ; ofttimes then 
 
 is the afiiliation but very mockery. I think R has 
 
 come to feel this already ! The soul has proclaimed her 
 heritage of freedom ; the sun is going down upon the. last 
 slopes westward lying, yet is the mortal part still bound by 
 a thousand jagged tissues to the rack of past and present 
 transorressions ; the age runs its round of days without hira. 
 Hence, upon the earth, he who ever bent so ready a knee 
 at the shrine of her pleasures is now a stranger and pilgrim. 
 '\Miat account shall such a man render, not only of what 
 has been done, which it were better to have left undone, 
 but what might hare been accomplished had he not per- 
 mitted selfish indulgence to blind the true, far-seeing eyes 
 of immortal destiny." 
 
THE MONT AN AS. SO 
 
 Here a shadow crossed the starlight, sleeping on the 
 grass-plat at our feet ; and the figure of a woman, bearing 
 in her arms a child, sank down as in supplication ; the 
 light on her clearly cut features — so wan, suffering, and 
 pale — showed to me the face of Leah Eldridge, the friend 
 of my childhood, now, alas, a mother, who bore still her 
 maiden name ! I uttered a sharp, shrill cry, as I recoo-nised 
 her. Mr. Kingswell stooping, raised the poor creature, 
 who had sunk from exhaustion on the stone steps, had 
 Mien really with such force as to cause a serious contusion 
 on one of her temples. Those kind arms lifted and carried 
 her into the house, while Mrs. Kingswell took up the baby, 
 a bright little fellow of perhaps a year old, with dark-flow- 
 ing curls, very pretty I saw at a glance ; I also saw, when 
 we came into the home light, not half a century of years 
 could so thoroughly have changed my friend as that one 
 year of sorrowing repentance had done. 
 
 Some lives can only be brought to sin by being borne out 
 of their usual channels ; when once the impelling force is 
 removed that turned aside the pure, steady current, they 
 surge back again to the upright course, and mirror the 
 same beautiful soul-thoughts as before the beauteous spirit 
 wings were trailed amid the dust and blight of the sunless 
 way. I saw instantly how this was true with Leah. I hold 
 with Mr. Kingswell that sin can never be exalted ; it is a 
 bitter draught to some who feel that they would rather toil, 
 work, starve, die, than drain its cup to the bitter dregs. 
 
 This brave resolution was written where I readily translat- 
 ed it in the white look of anguished endeavor on Leah's pite- 
 ous face ; in the clothes she wore, the tatters that enwrapped 
 her boy ; in her readiness to face all, that she might find one 
 who would aid her in coming back, one who w^ould not 
 simply tell her she had taken the wrong turning, but who 
 
90 THE MOXTANAS. 
 
 would point out the way and means by which she might 
 return to the forsaken path of right. Did Mr. Kiiigswcll 
 esteem himself too holy to do this for one so stricken and 
 powerless as my poor fallen friend ? All these thoughts 
 came to me as I bathed the wan temples from which the 
 life-blood was freely flowing. 
 
 " I think some angel must have guided me here," she 
 said faintly, as if in a kind of dream. " How I prayed 
 God he would take me somewhere, anywhere, out from 
 under those cruel stars which seem to pierce me like the eyes 
 of doom. I used to love them once, long ago, but stars 
 are an awful thing to the homeless — shuiing afar off, like 
 the light of joys we dare not hope to know again. Though 
 henceforth I will say no haimful word of the stars ; they 
 brought me here ; and oh ! if you knew all : what I have 
 suffered in my prolonged and painful struggle with the 
 world for work, for life, for myself and child, I am sure you 
 would not send me away. I will labor for you all my life 
 through ; I will be your faithful slave even, unless you really 
 force me out into that wide, hard world again. I shoidd 
 faint in the heat of its noonday suns, with my sinful burden. 
 I could stand it no longer; I can only die, should this 
 last resource fail me, this appeal to you, Mr. Kingswell, 
 who was my mother's friend." She wept here. ^ I pressed 
 her hand gently, and wiped away the blinding tears from 
 her eyes ; then she looked at me ; a gleam of recognition 
 overspread her wan features, but it faded swiftly as it came, 
 for it seemed the sense of her true condition. Her shame so 
 utterly overpowered her she could only exclaim, brokenly — 
 " Aljean Montana, is it you ? Oh ! how wide the space 
 between us has grown ! yet I remember you well, as 
 though it were but yesterday we parted. I know not your 
 way since, but mine has been through an endless winter. I 
 
THE MOXTANAS. 91 
 
 have fallen, Jennie, very low, but do not censure your poor 
 friend ; may you never know what it' is to love as I have 
 loved ; forgive me, you do not know all ; I am unworthy 
 even to look upon your face, yet you hold my hand and 
 bathe my brow — mine, poor, miserable, destitute as I 
 am." 
 
 I heard a voice say — it was Raymond^s, fiery, impulsive 
 Raymond's — " Come away, Jennie." Then another voice — 
 soft, tender like Jesus must once have spoken — " Let her 
 remain ; this woman was her friend ! She needs her now." 
 It was Mr. KingsweU's. Then both young men came and 
 stood beside me while I bathed her brow, saying in turn 
 to the host : " What shall you do with her ? " 
 
 '• What shall I — what can I do ? The way of the trans- 
 gressor is hard ; we should not seek to make it harder. I 
 feel I have no right to cast at her the first stone, if in truth 
 I have a right to cast any stone at all." Raymond look- 
 ed abashed and humbled; the more so when Mrs. Kings- 
 well, in her soft, mild voice, came closer to Leah and laid 
 her sleeping boy upon the couch beside her, saying gently : 
 " Do not weep so, child ; you shall not be sent away ; we 
 will try to find you a home of refuge from the cold, wide 
 world you dread so much, which has in truth dealt v^ery 
 hardly with you. Now go to sleep and rest." 
 
 That wife had her earthly reward in the look which her 
 husband bestowed upon her as we were leaving the apart- 
 ment. It was the seal of her sacrifice. 
 
 On the following morning, at Mr. KingsweU's request, I 
 walked with him to see Captain Bob Eldridge ; to inform 
 him of Leah's state, and her presence at Ridgely. The 
 poor girl shook her head when she knew we were going, 
 and said it would be of no use ; she was sure her father 
 could never foro'ive her, or receive her ; we surmised that 
 
92 THE MONTANAS. 
 
 she was right in her conviction ; but duty seemed to point 
 in that direction, so we went. 
 
 It was a mournful spectacle that met my eyes ; Captain 
 Bob sitting still in the solitary house, as I had always re- 
 membered him sitting there after his dead wife was borne 
 away — grimly, as though he had for companions the ghosts 
 of departed fancies. lie scarce raised his brow when we 
 entered ; and even in that faint effort there was no uplifting 
 of the spirit to sustam the motion. In one brief glance I 
 saw how his daughter's shame — that more cruel scourge 
 than sorrow for the dead — had ploughed deep furrows down 
 his cheets, and burned a deep, deep record on his brow. 
 His hair, grey and thin as I remembered it, was entirely 
 gone now, sa\ang a small patch on either temple. I was 
 more affected by this speechless lethargy than I could have 
 been by any words he might have uttered. I went nearer 
 to his side, smoothing his bare crown with my ungloved 
 hand — questioned him regarding his knowledge of the past 
 and of me. 
 
 " Who asks if I know them ? " he ansTjjrered querulously ; 
 " I know^ no one ; not even my own child." His voice, as 
 he said those words of Leah, grew almost fierce; he 
 stamped in rage upon the floor. I saw that he was al- 
 most mad ; how terrible, and yet I had heard of his ha\ing 
 been in this state for months at a time. The worst form of 
 madness is that which never loses consciousness long enough 
 to become cured of grief. Mr. Kingswell, thinking this 
 opportunity as favorable as any that might occur, stepped to 
 the other side of the old man, speaking very kindly but 
 firmly of his wish and purpose : 
 
 " It is of that child — your daughter, the knowledge of 
 whom you have this hour denied — that I came here to 
 talk to you. She has found her way to my house after 
 
THE MONTANAS. 93 
 
 having suffered much ; more than you and I, my friend, 
 can ever know. Will you not pardon her ? She is stUl 
 your own ; years of error on her part could never obliterate 
 the tie that binds you to her; despite your course, a few 
 bitter words could not break it — a few kind ones would 
 make it strong again. She is yours still — yours and God's 
 — who will not lose sight of her in her brave strivings to 
 find the forsaken way. He will light her feet, and I myself 
 righteously believe she means to walk in it, with His help, 
 to the end. You, too, will help her ; she will repay you, I 
 am sure, by taking this sting of grief and shame from out 
 your poor old heart. I ask in behalf of Christ who died 
 for sin ; in the name of her dead mother — in the name of 
 the God who shall one day pass sentence upon us all — to 
 take her into your home and heart again ; there let your 
 child find rest and peace ! " 
 
 I could not fail to observe all the while Mr. Kingswell 
 spoke how Captain Bob quivered like an aspen leaf; I 
 thought him a prey to some revengeful emotion ; perhaps 
 he remembered still that his dead wife had said to him one 
 day : "Kobei-t, you are unjust to William." How like the 
 eloquence of that long silent voice were the tones to which 
 he listened now, I fancied with some sign of relenting; 
 but the memory only served to gall him more. Almost 
 any other would have been a more successful ambassador 
 just then ; yet the cause was a just one, and would triumph 
 in the end. 
 
 "Are you here, William Kingswell?" exclaimed the old 
 man, surprisedly — every fibre starting into new vitality, as 
 his voice attained fresh vigor ; " I have sworn you should 
 never enter my door. That you have forced me to break 
 my oath to the dead, is retribution dire. Leave me, I com- 
 mand you, or I swear anew you shall be compelled to go ; 
 
94 THE MONTANA S. 
 
 there is yet sufficient strength in the right ann of Bob 
 Eldridge to expel you summarily." He would have fallen in 
 his agitation, the poor, feeble old man, whom I knew strong 
 and well, had I not forced him back into his chair gently, 
 so gently, he was scarcely aware of the action. Mr. Kings- 
 well faced him fearlessly. 
 
 " You mistake me strangely, my friend, if you imagine 
 for an instant I came here to taunt or annoy you. I have 
 told what I wish to say concerning Leah ; you still persist 
 in refusing to see and receive her; she is under my pro- 
 tection, and shall remain with me, since I must resign the 
 hope of being able to place the poor girl under her father's 
 roof. Since that may not be, I must not refuse to do for 
 her what I can myself, and with God's aid I will." Finding 
 his office of peacemaker at an end, he readily accepted that 
 of protector. 
 
 The old man, thoroughly aroused by this unconscious 
 assumption on the part of Mr. Kingswell, answered him in 
 tones full of withering scorn : 
 
 " You can well aflPord to assume the office of general dis- 
 penser in cases involving the slightest omi^ion of duty on 
 the part of others, whose acts do not so much concern you; 
 but have you always played the philanthropist, and been 
 thus prodigal to your own flesh and blood ? At whose 
 mandate did one fair and beautiful and good go away from 
 you, never to return ? — for she went long ago to that bourne 
 from whence no pilgi-im may return. Who was unforgiving 
 then ? Who closed the doors of home and heart in that 
 long-past time ? William Kingswell, you have commenced 
 too late." 
 
 I looked at Clyde's uncle ; the old man's manner was 
 menacing, and his tones w^ere full of sneering, when he had 
 hurled the last shaft at his ancient enemy. The dart had 
 
THE MOm'AN'AS. 95 
 
 not reached its aim; Mr. Kingswell was impemous to 
 keener shafts even than these ; he was so accustomed to 
 probe his own heart and lay it bare to his Creator. Un- 
 marred was all the glorious inner life save bv this mistake 
 of his youth. He was calm as one who had triumphed 
 over remorse, and the victory thus achieved was through 
 long sutFering, of which there was no trace now, however, 
 only deep, painful anxiety in his tones, when he said tremu- 
 lously : 
 
 " Tell me, my friend, if you know aught of her — that 
 poor, erring child ? I would give a world to know her fate, 
 if I possessed one." 
 
 " ^\Tiat would you know, William Kingswell ; more per- 
 haps than I should care to tell you, if I could ? Let me 
 alone ; I ask of you nothing, only that you will leave me." 
 He pointed impatiently to the door. Feeling that nothing 
 could be gained by remaining, we left the old man to his 
 solitudes, and came sorrowfully up the slopes to Ridgely. 
 
 It was hard to meet the expectant look in Leah's face, 
 and have no answering word of comfort to give her. She 
 saw how it was — as it had been ; tears trickled down the 
 pale, thin cheeks, and fell upon the brown curls of her bov. 
 "Your effort has not been altogether hopeless, Leah; 
 you shall stay here as long as you like ; this shall be your 
 home while you choose to make it so." 
 
 With one of those s.vift, sudden impulses which in the 
 erring seem the upheaving of a better nature — hidden, but 
 not destroyed — she threw herself at the feet of Mr. Kings- 
 well ; too full of gratitude, she held her benefactor's hands, 
 while her tears fell down like rain. 
 
 " Leah," he said, solemnly ; " do not thank me ; there is 
 one to whom your gratitude is more directly du€." She 
 understood him, and clasped anew her hands in earnest prayer. 
 
96 THE MONTANAS. 
 
 And thus it came to pass tliat Leah Eldridge came into 
 the household at Ridgely, and took her place henceforth as 
 one of its inmates. How strangely such things come about I 
 We have never since had cause to regret what we did then, 
 though in many instances we could not have acted thus 
 with impunity. There is no standard by which to estimate 
 error in degree so true, so just, as that of manifest sincere 
 repentance. Then, again, we know that God is the God of 
 the wretched, and Christ their Saviour. Who shall hide 
 his glorious beneficence from the eyes of the world-weary, 
 whose sin by tears of bitter suffering has been washed out ? 
 
 Once more into our season of content came the image 
 of Warren Hayne, bringing brightness, yet dispensing 
 shadows he had left in the void where his presence was 
 not. 
 
 But Clyde ! I could not understand him, his conduct 
 seemed so strange. I was sure he loved Stanley, though 
 when her engagement had been first made known to him 
 he evinced little feeling, only I imagined I saw the ago- 
 nized regret burning deep in his soul-full eyes. How I 
 worshipped this man ! even though he seemed towering 
 high above me, as if his soul was set among the stars, in 
 whose light I walked, where his feet too trod on the hard 
 earth way beside me. His spirit seemed to soar and pierce 
 the dim ether, yet never for an instant ceased to be fet- 
 tered with the material part of life, or lose its hold upon 
 the actual. Often, often have I seen that gleam, spectral 
 as starlight, yet never once did I suspect or know until 
 long after what the glance portended. How blind is the 
 keenest insight at war with fate ! 
 
 It soon became known in the circle at Wayburn that 
 Warren Hajme would marry the beautiful Southern girl, 
 guest of the Kingswells. Stanley verj naturally shrank 
 
THE MONTANAS. 97 
 
 from what seemed to her indelicate publicity of that which 
 in her estimation should be held sacredly ; but Warren 
 manifested a strange desire to parade his triumph. He 
 was one of those men who disvalue any gift the world 
 does not share and set high estimates upon. Many marry 
 as though they anticipated having numberless spectators to 
 every domestic scene from youth to age, so eager a desire 
 they manifest to conciliate society in the choice of a partner 
 for life, and court its due appreciation of then- selection. 
 
 Mr. Kings well said little on the subject ; he was too 
 thorough a gentleman to obtrude the expression of an 
 opinion which had never been sought; I knew he had 
 learned to love Stanley very dearly, and would have been 
 pleased if she and his favorite, Clyde, had chosen each 
 other. I knew he talked it over with his good wife when 
 they were alone together ; for in each sober face I saw the 
 verdict of their keener judgment than we possessed, which 
 foresaw a time when the silver tides of this affection would 
 sink amid the thirsty sands of after life. 
 
 'Twas thus the bright-browed summer passed, and in 
 her stead came golden autumn showering treasures of 
 crimson and amber; harvests fresh from the sickle were 
 bound and stored ; " the grapes were purpling in the 
 grange," yet we hngered at Ridgely — lingered because we 
 had no courage to break the airy tissues of our happiness 
 and seek to weave them about other scenes, lest in the 
 process they should vanish, leaving us in darkness. At 
 length a letter arrived which turned the balance in favor 
 of Claremont. Aunt Edith was ill; Uncle Montana, em- 
 barrassed by an unlucky speculation, required the services 
 of his sons to set him right. I overheard Mr. Kingswell 
 and Clyde talking softly about the matter, and judging 
 from fragments of the conversation which reached me, I 
 
98 THE MOKTANAS. 
 
 was more than ever convinced that the suspicion I had 
 hitherto entertained concerning Uncle Clifford's original 
 investment was correct. I also knew that both Raymond 
 and Stanley were ignorant of this fact ! therefore to no 
 human ear did I breathe the knowledge which had unavoid- 
 ably come to me. Some things were clearer now that 
 before had appeared so dread a mystery. The scales were 
 dropping from my eyes ! I thought I knew now why 
 they had been so anxious to forestall matters in that regard 
 and negotiate a marriage between Stanley and Clyde ; just 
 then I was feeling sufficiently malicious to rejoice in secret 
 that their plan of bargain and sale was prospectively 
 thwarted by her anticipated union with Warren Hayne. 
 Though for Uncle Montana, in any event, I foresaw trouble 
 in the future. Austere, uncompromising man that he was, 
 loving money as his God, it was very natural he should 
 wish to wed his only daughter with great wealth. As for 
 Warren, beyond a decent competence he had only his 
 fine business capacity and indomitable energy, which were 
 in themselves the surest avenues to future wealth and 
 honor. 
 
 At length we came back to Clarcmont. Aunt Edith sat 
 up, wearing her sweetest smile with which to greet us, but 
 there was so marked a contrast between the almost trans- 
 parent whiteness of her complexion and the hectic glow on 
 either cheek, as she rested them alternately against the 
 purple velvet lining of her luxurious chair, we were startled ! 
 Then the hand she held out to us was so thin and wasted, 
 the look of it pierced our hearts with remorse. Why had 
 we left her to eke out the frail remnant of her vitality in 
 utter loneliness, while we pursued our pleasures ? How 
 cruelly selfish we had been! I knelt beside her; pressed 
 the poor wan fingers to my lips, choking down the anguish 
 
THE MONTANAS. 99 
 
 that would not drop its weight in tears ; while Stanley, her 
 own child, her best beloved, unable to look upon the 
 change which had struck us all so painfully, went to her 
 own gorgeous apartments, tapestried richly and draped in 
 blue • and gold, tasselled and min'ored in a style which 
 would have rivalled the boudoir of an Oriental princess. 
 'Twas thus I found her, an hour later, her face buried in a 
 rich couch in her chamber. Warren Hayne's beloved ! 
 yes, and Clyde's too ! they both loved her. I loved her, 
 and would soothe lier pain ; and I did, breathing in gentle 
 words a hope which I felt to be hopeless ; meanwhile pic- 
 turing a future which would be hers even when this bright 
 sun of her youth was gone down in the darkness, and only 
 the star of his love shining. 
 
 I do not think Raymond really understood or duly ap- 
 preciated the change in his worshipped mother. Yery 
 soon he sat down to tell her of Mary, of his engagement 
 and his happiness, she smiling calmly — a sympathetic re- 
 cognition of his joy ; but when he went on to speak of 
 Stanley and her love for Warren Hayne, she questioned 
 until he told her all ! Then a shadow fell upon her face — a 
 shadow as of disappointed hope — while her eyes sought 
 Clyde, whose misery was so proudly still ; only she and I 
 guessed how he suffered and how heavily the blow would 
 fall on him. 
 
 How wondrously does the social atmosphere affect and 
 influence the physical ! Even that insidious foe, consump- 
 tion, will relax his hold oftentimes for a little season, and 
 allow his \dctims to linger securely in some sunny place by 
 the wayside, even when most intent upon hunying them to 
 the dark shades beyond. It was thus with Aunt Edith, 
 who was so happy in having us home again, she rallied and 
 gained strength suflScient to take her place at the table 
 
100 THE MONTANAS. 
 
 which, being physically unable to preside, she had been 
 compelled to abandon weeks before. 
 
 Aunt Dinah too was present, who declared it was " as 
 solemn as a meetin' to have nobody to come to de table 
 'cept massa, who et nothin' hisself — hardly enough to keep 
 a fish alive ; all de cookin' was done for nothin' while we 
 was gone. As for Hawsey, she had pined after Miss Stan- 
 ley tell she was no more 'an a shadder ! Pity young miss 
 couldn't a tuck the child along wid her ; but I 'spose it was 
 dangerous, dem folks up Norf is so mighty medelsum 'bout 
 we niorg-ers." 
 
 Aunt Dinah's feelings were almost abundantly poured 
 forth in behalf of any one who ate little ; this, in her esti- 
 mate, was a state approximating the very climax of misery. 
 Even in ordinary conversations, not in the slightest degree 
 pathetic, it was Aunt Dinah's habit to shed tears. They 
 were as natural to the old lady as sun and air to plants, or 
 as Raymond mischievously remai-ked, as " water to a duck." 
 They were the invariable tribute of her susceptible heart on 
 occasions either grave or gay. Now, however, the old 
 lady was entirely excusable for her indulgence of the -emo- 
 tion she felt at seeing her mistress well enough to resume 
 her old place in the reunited family, and Hawsey, the apple 
 of her tearful eye, reinstalled at her post of honor again. 
 Said Hawsey was a faithful little creature, notwithstanding 
 her propensity to regard the boys slily from out the corners 
 of her bright eyes, and really attached so much importance 
 to the performance of her duty as dressing-maid, regarding 
 her service as so indispensable an adjunct to Stanley's com- 
 fort, it was amusing to .witness her transports on our return. 
 I verily believe she imagined Stanley's hair had not ap- 
 peared well once during her long absence from home; good, 
 kind, and indulgent as her young mistress was, she really 
 
THE MONTAJSTAS^^jLK /-. . l Q 1 
 
 permitted her to enjoy this belief, wKrcli'she did 'even with ^h 
 the evidence of well kept glossy ringlets to the contrary. 
 
 Hawsey's idea of a land where people waited on themselves / 
 
 was anything but flattering to the m-oprietors of free soil. '' 
 
 CHAPTER yil. 
 
 "Be wise to-day, 'tis madness to defer ; 
 Next day— the fatal precedent will plead ; 
 Thus on, 'till wisdom is pushed out of life," 
 
 YoiTNG's Night Thottghts. 
 
 Claremont ! our fairy land ! How very lovely it was 
 
 with long, cool verandas, shaded, by stately magnolias of 
 dark shining foliage, and green slopes swelling southward 
 to the gulf and westward to the sunset. AVliether in the 
 light of morning or the garish brightnoss of noontime, the 
 gradual waning of golden day or soft shadows of evening, 
 descending gently as the footfall of angels, it was beautiful,' 
 and its atmosphere was one of perpetual spring. Autumn 
 had flitted caressingly over its shady groves and flowery 
 walks, just touching with more gorgeous hue verdure and 
 foliage, when Cousin Warren came to Aasit us. He ap- 
 peared in a transport of rapture ; actually put aside his 
 stately politeness— assuming the elegant necfUffe of South- 
 em manners— took his place in our home circle natu- 
 rally, as though he had been bred and born to the position 
 he then occupied, and was self-constituted sole proprietor of 
 his mystic surroundings. Often he would tell us over and 
 over how very happy he was. One of his pet indulgences, 
 I remember, was to pluck the fairest flowers, toy with 
 them, then pull them to pieces, just for the pleasure of see- 
 ing them borne afar off on the misty wings of breezes which 
 
1 2 THE MONTANA S. 
 
 came up softly from the gulf; again, lie would strew them 
 in the path before him as he walked, and trample upon the 
 dissevered petals with a careless indifference that wounded 
 Stanley. One day she spoke to him of the strange habit. 
 I sat upon the upper veranda and could not avoid hearing 
 their conversation. He had woven a wreath of orange blos- 
 soms and set it afloat upon the surface of water inclosed by 
 a marble basin which held the fountain's falling spray, 
 talking languidly as he watched golden minnows leap to 
 catch them or trace their shadows underneath. She said, 
 softly, it seemed an answer to her thought : 
 
 " You may decide that I am fanciful, but I never see a 
 leaf cr flower detached from the parent stem without a 
 sensation akin to the keenest pain." 
 
 He responded in his usual blase manner : 
 
 " They are among the bright creations made to be en- 
 joyed while they last ; " his look said : Then put aside to 
 make room for others. 
 
 " Gather the rose-buds while you may, 
 Old time is stiU a-flying ; 
 And the same flower which blooms to-day, 
 To-morrow shall be dying." 
 
 " Herrick is wise ; he has propagated a very comforting 
 sort of logic, which I never fail to adopt." 
 
 " Yet," said Stanley, " it is a very sad philosophy which 
 teaches men to speak and act thus ; they would be inex- 
 cusable for the promulgation of such sentiments were not 
 word less culpable than deed ; men of the world aff'ect a 
 species of bravado in adopting them. I should scarcely 
 expect you could be brought to endorse a theory or prac- 
 tice so chilling in its efi'ects. Many poets, whom fortunate 
 genius has lifted above its severest casualties, seem to take 
 
THE MONTANAS. 103 
 
 an insane pride in thus braving life and scattering its trea- 
 sure by the way. I can nev6r recall some of Moore's de- 
 fiant lines without a shudder. Little by little we come to 
 extend this selfishness to animate as well as inanimate ob- 
 jects, which is apt to lead to practices very pernicious ! 
 And were such indulgences mianimously adopted, the 
 result would be to sweep all generosity from the universe." 
 
 " The attribute of selfishness is more general now than 
 you seem to imagine. I have already learned to endorse 
 the theory — as every one must sooner or later in his Inter- 
 course with mankind ; though truly it is a deplorable era 
 in the history of an individual — the first faint realization of 
 the fact that self-interest is the motive-power which impels 
 the machinery of society. 
 
 " Beyond one glorious truth, I hold all the world to be 
 false as it is fair ; I am sure if I should learn to doubt this 
 fact I should not want to live ! The blight would cover all 
 my life, and the charred remains of the structure in which 
 I have enshrined its hopes would blacken all the pathway 
 to that golden realm of light shining yonder — a goal in 
 the blue distances of coming time — and shroud in dark- 
 ness the very canopy of heaven. This is the one gTeat 
 truth whose existence I feel within the area of my heart's 
 pulsations. There is only one — there can be but one love 
 such as you have inspired — and since your little feet have 
 walked in the hollow wastes of my life, I have known no 
 other joy — 
 
 " ' With thee conversing I forget all time, 
 All seasons and their change do please alike. 
 I love thee and I feel 
 That in the fountain of my heart a seal 
 Is set to keep its waters pure and bright 
 For thee.' " 
 
104 THE MONTANA S. 
 
 Ah ! when other seasons, with their changes dread, came 
 on, did one inky drop of the sad blight succeeding stain 
 the crystal waters of the one pure fountain in his heart — 
 whose golden seal was crushed and broken in obedience to 
 a mandate of the world — the same world of which he talked 
 so contemptuously, yet whose voice w^as stronger than the 
 voice within ? Yes, out into this same world he passed, 
 leaving the bright golden love-life afar back in its glory ! 
 The pearly gates closed after him with a crash that shook 
 the solid earth ; on he went through desert ways, joyless 
 amid the seasons, gliding swift from flower to snow ; that 
 same world lying henceforth all between his heart and 
 hers. 
 
 " Oh love ! what is there in this world of ours, 
 That makes it fatal to be loved ? Ah ! why, 
 With cypress branches hast thou wreathed thy bowers, 
 And made thy best interpreter a sigh ? " 
 
 When in Warren's far away home autumn was wearing 
 the faded garlands of departed summer, the winter sky of 
 a fearful strife between brother and brother, fi'iend and 
 friend, was darkening underneath the heavens. The po- 
 litical contest of 1860 terminated in' the election of Mr. 
 Lincoln to the Presidency, which event was succeeded by 
 the withdrawal of all Southern members from the repre- 
 sentative hall of the nation, which course resulted in the 
 secession of South Carolina, which was quickly followed 
 by other States. Our hero began to grow restless, and 
 longed for the busy world again. A system of pleasant 
 dalliance by the wayside may bring feverish ecstasy to a 
 man of active habit, but it can never wholly satisfy or in- 
 sure to mind and heart lasting peace. Life is a steady 
 current, ever rushing on, on ; we must sail or drift with its 
 swift flow, and work our passage that we may come into 
 
TEE MOXTANAS. 105 
 
 tlie channel wliicli joins the ocean tides, which will bear us 
 to golden portals of the bright beyond. 
 
 Warren proposed that with the consent of all parties 
 concerned, he and Stanley should be married at once and 
 return to the North together ; she hesitated, from disin- 
 clination to leave her mother in her present feeble health. 
 Was it a dim foreboding in my heart that, if deferred, the 
 result would be misery for both, that caused me to speak 
 as I did? 
 
 " You are wrong, Stanley, you should go with Warren ; 
 he wants you. Auut Edith shall be well cared for ; be- 
 sides, you know not what might come between you to 
 prevent the ultimate consummation of your hopes. Should 
 the national Union, as we have reason to fear, become dis- 
 rupted, Warren may then be considered an enemy to your 
 land ! Would you wish to marry him then ? Again, his 
 former enchantress may yet win his love from vou : most 
 men are stigmatized as fickle, you are well aware; he 
 might not prove an isolated exception." An expression of 
 deep pain passed over the features of my friend, though 
 she answered not a little proudly : 
 
 " I do not anticipate the first event to which you refer 
 as though the occurrence were almost certain. Our na- 
 tional league is too strongly augmented by the sacrifice of 
 years to be broken by the guilty efforts of a few shameless 
 partisans. As regards Miss Strawbridge, I do not fear 
 her ! However, if the result which you intimate be proba- 
 ble or possible, it were better I should know it at once ; I 
 could not so thoroughly appreciate his homage were it less 
 exclusive." 
 
 Since I have growTi older, in justice to mankind I do 
 not hesitate to express a belief that so called fickleness is 
 only refined exclusiveness. Man cannot lay his heart at 
 
 . 5* 
 
106 THE MONTANAS. 
 
 every strine to which he bows a willing tnee in anmse- 
 ment or courtesy. Warren was not really unfaithful to 
 Stanley in the test which followed ; his waywardness was 
 wholly the result of events so complicated — so directly 
 bearing upon his destiny and hers — he found it impossible 
 to break the chain of irascible circumstances. 
 
 When Mr. Montana became aware of the pending issue 
 invoh-ing his daughter's preference for Mr. Hayne, he urged 
 no grave expostulations, only evinced a pettish displeasure; 
 which was manifest in his expressed wish to have the mar- 
 riage deferred: "Wait," he said; "Stanley was scarce more 
 than a child ! " He could make no other objection, know- 
 ing how his daughter's heart was in the projected union ; 
 he repeated in the interval of deep hard breaths : " Wait." 
 
 Again, when Warren in person knelt with Stanley beside 
 the pale-faced mother, asking the precious boon of her child's 
 love, she could only clasp her trembling hands over that gold- 
 en head with its falling curls ; while her white lips, too, said 
 "Wait." Wliy should those tears have fallen then and 
 there, upon the flower-garden of her daughter's youth and 
 hope ? Only I knew how dear to each parental heart was 
 the project of uniting her and Clyde, who was the sole in- 
 heritor of Claremont and Brightland. His mother held 
 nothing, now that he was of an age to claim them ; not even 
 the slaves, except by suffrage : hence they looked forwai'd 
 to this consummation of their scheme as to a final adjustment 
 of pecuniary affairs, of late so complicated and uncertain. 
 At this particular jimcture, if compelled to repay large sums 
 of money frequently borrowed from Clyde's ready capital, the 
 result would be utter ruin. It was because he felt he was 
 not strong enough to breast the waves just then, that he said 
 to Warren and Stanley : " Wait ! " and the pale-faced mother 
 repeated after him the one touching, comprehensive mono- 
 
TEE MONTANAS. 107 
 
 syllable. I tLough.t I detected in the dark, splendid eyes 
 of Clyde a gleam of tender appeal that, too, suggested — 
 " "Wait ! " And my suffering, feverish heart responded with 
 sad echo to the joint burden of that of the household — 
 " Wait ! " and we waited, but not long. 
 
 There was one person who advocated Warren's claims 
 with great vehemence. Ray was the exception to the gene- 
 ral expression of deference. He often repeated his asser- 
 tion of a former occasion ; that Warren was the most 
 fitting match in all New York. Then perhaps he knew 
 nothing of the league in favor of Clyde ; or if he did, con- 
 sidered that young geiftleman abundantly able to assert and 
 advocate his own claims. But of some other things he was 
 well aware, which we in our blindness did not know until 
 long afterwards. 
 
 Notwithstanding all that Raymond said in favor of a 
 speedy union, it was decided that the marriage ceremony 
 should not be performed until the coming spring. 
 
 One morning, a few days later, it was arranged that I 
 should drive down to the city with Clyde to do some shop- 
 ping. I shall never forget the picture which met my eyes 
 on going to Aunt Edith's room to receive special injunc- 
 tions concerning her proposed purchases ; she sat in a large 
 chair near an open window, while Hawsey combed her soft 
 brown hair; Stanley rested from her embroidery on an 
 ottoman beside her ; and a few feet distant. Miss Ellis, with 
 her knitting- work. By the way, I have not yet had occa- 
 sion to describe this very interesting personao-e ; whose 
 most prominent characteristic was the aforesaid knitting- 
 work, which was ever present with her. She was possessed 
 of many family details, which she had repeated until we 
 knew them word for word, though the lady in our house- 
 hold was a " sarcophagus " of silence. She rarely spoke 
 
108 THE MONTANAS. 
 
 unless some one addressed her ; then, if possible, answered 
 the question or remark with as few words as possible. Again 
 Miss Ellis, or Miss J'hoebe as we usually called her, was well 
 versed in the complicated record which held dates of every 
 marriage and death which had occurred in almost every 
 family of note in the section, for years and years agone. 
 
 How she came in possession of so varied and *'aluable a 
 stock of information, was a fact utterly incomprehensible ; 
 for she never asked a question, unless, as we surmised, it 
 was by some adroit process of storing what she learned 
 incidentally; and by the exercise of the rare faculty she 
 had of putting this and that together in the prolific soil of 
 her own memory, which yielded in case of any emergency 
 an abundant harvest of uncontrovertible testimony. 
 
 This little lady, with her quiet ways, had been the lineal 
 heritao-e of Claremont lonor before the Montanas had lived 
 there. During the lifetime of the first Mrs. Ingram, 
 Clyde's mother, she had been employed to superintend 
 the arrangement of the household. Upon the occasion of 
 the instalment of Mrs. Ingram second, she had been per- 
 mitted still to hold her place. Then when the father and 
 master had died, and Mrs. Montana assumed the direction 
 of the establishment, she was still held one of the humble 
 retainers. Through all these vicissitudes she had been so 
 constant and patient in her duty- doing, step by step she 
 had mounted, until now she stood upon the topmost round 
 of the ladder, from which high eminence of hardly-won 
 confidence it would have been difiicult to precipitate her, 
 for she prided herself much upon this distinction. It was 
 not a habit we children had acquired in our bringing up to 
 like Miss Phoebe much ! She so persistingly kept upon 
 the track of our waywardness, and brought to light all our 
 little mischievous schemings ; she was sure to unravel our 
 4 
 
TEE MOKTANAS. 109 
 
 mysterious confidences during vacations spent at home, and 
 report them in her quiet way, so that we really stood much 
 in awe of her in those days. Now, however, the feeling 
 had passed away, and we had grown to appreciate and 
 esteem her. It was easy to perceive she was yet a source 
 of annoyance to Hawsey, upon whom she kept a sharp eye, 
 though by day she never ceased her endless knitting. I 
 watched her now curiously as she sat weaving into the web 
 of counterpane upon which she worked, together with the 
 notes of birds singing from their stately perches amid the 
 foliage of magnolias ; • these mingled with the uncouth 
 croakings of Stanley's paroquet ! All these were bound in 
 long white meshes that fell from her wax-like fingers slowly 
 as a moving shroud. Now and then was a square with 
 which were interwoven the golden threads of hope — like 
 those running through Stanley's bright years. Stanley had 
 ever been a favorite ^dth Miss Phoebe ! Again, with the 
 dream of Clyde's young manhood, some darker threads 
 streaked the fabric — running strongly and steadily as the 
 current of life that was ebbing before our eyes — though we 
 scarcely realized it now. How blind we were to the sad, 
 solemn truth ! All save the obsen-ing, kind-hearted, soft- 
 voiced woman, who seemed so little likely to observe the 
 fact, and yet who knew it first of all. There was no trace of 
 the knowledge in her face ; only now as I recall the many 
 incidents of that time, I remember too how her manner 
 grew more subdued, and then she manifested as unaccount- 
 able indifiierence to many of Hawsey's shortcomings ! and 
 was seen much less frequently at her post of observation on 
 the lower veranda, where her glittering needles were brought 
 to bear upon the servants in their daily work. Aunt Dinah 
 held undisputed sway in her realm ; and every morning after 
 having washed the china, trimmed the lamps, brightened 
 
110 THE MONTANAS. 
 
 the silver with a piece of chamois leather, and dispatching 
 a little dusky emissary to Miss Phoebe with the keys of the 
 sideboard, descended thereafter to her own domain — often- 
 times with full an added inch of turban on her woolly head. 
 Her importance expanded each day ? And in proportion 
 as her greatness increased, her severity to those in regard to 
 whom her jurisdiction was faithfully exercised, grew more 
 insufferable. Aunt Dinah's philanthropy had also dilated 
 astonishingly ; her tears, usually so wont to flow, now gushed 
 forth without the slightest provocation. In short she cuffed 
 the little kinky heads below stairs, and wept penitently for 
 the offence whenever she came into our higher realm of 
 expiation. 
 
 Of many things that were amusing in our household, and 
 some that were very sad, I stood thinking while tracing that 
 picture of the morning preceding the last evening which we 
 all spent together, when I heard Stanley's voice calling me 
 to come in from the veranda where I had stood musing long 
 and abstractedly. 
 
 "I wish, Jennie, you would call to see Retta Austin 
 and procure for me if possible the pattern of that worsted- 
 work ; I cannot go on with this until I familiarize myself 
 with the original design ; you will confer a favor by so 
 doing, for which I will be very much obliged."" She 
 hummed a little snatch of melody from Trovatore, which 
 Paroquet repeated in a hoarser voice. I promised to exe- 
 cute her commission, and hearing Clyde descend from his 
 dressing-room, I passed out on- the front veranda to let 
 him see that I was in readiness. I soon received his signal 
 as the horses came sweeping round the curve, with proud 
 manes flashing and coats like autumn sunshine. How very 
 gallantly, almost tenderly, he assisted me into the buggy 
 and took his place by my side. We had long since ceased 
 
THE MONTANAS. Ill 
 
 to address eacli otter save in the presence of otters ; now 
 on this particular occasion silence was a luxury : the bright, 
 bright river of my dream was gliding on; the golden 
 water seemed to touch my feet as we went whirling along 
 its margin with a speed that almost made me hold my 
 breath, yet scarcely kept pace with its current. I was 
 unable to decide if my fancy was not a reality, so strangely 
 had this habit of musing grown upon me. At length I 
 broke the spell of our silence by remarking, with enthusiasm : 
 
 "Life seems a dream, Clyde, so blended with the Infi- 
 nite that I can scarcely separate the real from the unreal, 
 the life here from that I hope for." 
 
 " I once thought," he said, a shadow coming into his 
 fine face, " that life was a dream ! but the dream is over. 
 Now it is a cheat, a delusion, a show, full of sound and 
 fury * signifying nothing ! ' an autumn of reality in whose 
 atmosphere wither and fade the bright things it brought 
 from the depths of that great mystery in which it came — 
 into which it shall be resolved again. I am shivering 
 through a long November, which is fast darkening into an 
 eternal winter. I have sowed — others will reap ; the har- 
 vest is not my own." 
 
 I saw the shadows darken on his face where the morninor 
 light had been. I wanted to ask why it was so ; if it was 
 because he felt he could have no life apart from Stanley's 
 love ? Yet how bravely and quietly he accepted his sad 
 destiny ! There was no despairing, no faltering of his life 
 purpose in the path where duty lay, no frittering away of 
 energy and integrity, because of that departed May of life 
 and love whose mortal sacrifices are as so many taber- 
 nacles reared to the Infinite. The interstices of passion 
 lie above its downward paths : these should be avoided by 
 the far-reaching vision of a love that may soar beyond ! 
 
112 THE MONTANAS. 
 
 enduring as the immortal power whose essence it is — re- 
 generated, purified. 
 
 Yes, with the inspiration of his presence round about 
 me, in behalf of that other love, that love of his for her, I 
 could have said all this and more, had not Lane Austin 
 come alongside our vehicle returning from his morning 
 drive. 
 
 " I was cominor out to Claremont this morning, Miss 
 Jennie," he said, in his cheery voice. " I have intended 
 doing myself that pleasure ever since we came back from 
 the North. I am actually dying to hear the sound of your 
 voice ; I have heard no music worth listening to since we 
 left Nahant ; you were kind enough to sing for me there 
 on one or two occasions, I remember." 
 
 " And we will either of us sing for you again should you 
 come to Claremont for that purpose ; moreover, we will 
 welcome you gladly." He tipped his hat gracefully and 
 passed on as we drew up in front of our stopping-place. I 
 requested Clyde to come back for me. I looked upon his 
 fine face for the shadow when he handed me out of the 
 buggy ; it was there, still deeper than ever, and with the 
 resolution to chase it away if possible as we returned, I 
 started on a journey to perform what Aunt Edith had 
 given me to do. I went first to a dry-goods establishment 
 in Canal street. Upon inquiring for certain articles I was 
 instructed to walk to the further end of the store. Passing 
 a row of assiduous' clerks, I came at last to one who fur- 
 nished me with numberless specimens of flosses, gay- 
 colored worsteds, and fancy articles of every description, 
 talking busily meantime of the merits of the goods in ques- 
 tion, while I made my selection, caring little for what he 
 said ; Clyde's face, with its shadow, was at my side, aiid 
 the bright river flowing far away. 
 
THE MONTANAS. 113 
 
 In my preoccupation I was just on the point of ha\ing 
 him tie up the wrong package for me, when my attention 
 was arrested by the sound of a haughty, imperious voice, 
 belonging to a lady who requested, or rather commanded, 
 to be shown very many things — goods of every style and 
 quality — as though she had been appointed chief inspector 
 of new fabrics, with an air that showed plainly she thought 
 she was conferring a great favor by deig-ning to examine 
 them at all, even with no design of purchasing. 
 
 It chanced that Warren Hayne passed that way. She 
 saw him, and immediately ordered one of the clerks to 
 recall him. When he came she seized his hand with more 
 than her usual warmth ; whereupon he expressed in courtly 
 terms his unexpected pleasure in having met her. Cousin 
 Warren was never at a loss for fashionable badinage ; now 
 he told her he had never seen her looking more charmingly, 
 even during the palmy days at Nahant. She thanked him 
 cordially, and proceeded to ply a score of inquiries which 
 sprang forth with the sharp vivacity of bullets from a seven- 
 charged revolver. Firstly, " if he was quite well ;" secondly, 
 if he came South immediately after taking his face from 
 •their pleasant circle on the Ocean shore; if he purposed 
 remaining long in New Orleans, and how he had passed the 
 time since his arrival? He answered that he had not come 
 South immediately after they parted, but had remained 
 long enough to arrange his business, so that it might not 
 suffer in his absence; that he was quite well — in short 
 never better, and had passed the time at Claremont so very 
 delightfully, it was a source of deep sorrow and regret that 
 he should be compelled to return North during the winter ; 
 but so it was, he should leave on the morrow. 
 
 " I thought we passed you, Lane and I, as we were driv- 
 ing a few days since." 
 
114 THE MONTANAS. 
 
 " Eh ! — I was on the road with Mr. Ingram ; went with 
 him to his place ; fair locality — Brightland." 
 
 "I presume," answered Retta, with an offensive and 
 hauorhty leer from the corners of her sharp black eyes, 
 almost hissing the words through rows of pearly teeth; 
 " that is, I am sure you must have passed much of your 
 time with Miss Montana, She will be married very soon. 
 Father remarked the other day — * Unless Mr. Montana's 
 dauo-hter mamed Mr. Iuo;ram he was a ruined man. The 
 investments in the business, together with Claremont, 
 Brightland, etc., are the exclusive property of Mr. Ingram. 
 The estates came by his father ; Mr. M. has held them in 
 trust for many years — now his stepson is of age, and will 
 probably want his capital for other purposes.' " 
 
 She said much more, which I will not here repeat ; she 
 went on talking in that gross, unlady-like fashion, in a con- 
 spicuous place, of our family concerns, as though she had a 
 personal interest in them, and the information favored that 
 interest; talked on utterly ignoring the fact of Warren's 
 preference for Stanley. He said no word, however; an 
 occasional answer couched in monosyllables was all the 
 response he vouchsafed to other queries when she had closed 
 her harangue on this subject. 
 
 " By the way," added Retta, appearing to have forgotten 
 until then the very purpose for which she had called him 
 in ; " I suppose of course you are aware that Miss Straw- 
 bridge has arrived in the city ? I have not seen her my- 
 self; it was Lane who informed me her father had grown 
 anxious concerning the ability of at least one of his South- 
 em patrons to meet the requisitions of creditors in this 
 severe season of almost universal suspension ; consequently 
 he came to satisfy himself they would be sustained by effi- 
 cient backers m the event of failure. Mr. S. and his daugh- 
 
THE MONTANA S. 115 
 
 ter are at the St. Charles. I shall call there this morning. 
 Perhaps," she added, turning carelessly from the piles of 
 gossamer which an assiduous clerk had arranged for her 
 inspection, " you will call with me. At all events I hope 
 to have the pleasure of entertaining you this evening, the 
 last of your stay in the city." 
 
 " I should be most happy," Warren answered — though 
 it must be confessed he did not appear so just then — " were 
 I not previously engaged, to accept your kind invitation, 
 granting the exclusive right to monopolize me for the 
 evening. However, I may see you this afternoon." 
 
 He took her little snow-flake of a hand — it was one of 
 Warren's tricks — into his own, relinquished it, and was 
 going, when she said again, assuming an expression of art- 
 less simplicity — 
 
 " Mr. Hayne, I have purchased recently an elegant floral 
 album, and would like so much to have an acrostic or some- 
 thing of the sort above your autograph. Really, it would en- 
 hance the value of the trifle very much." Now who could 
 have guessed the double purpose that lurked beneath this ap- 
 parently single request ! Firstly, perhaps, it was influenced 
 by her secret love for Warren Hayne ; secondly, it boded no 
 good either to Stanley or himself. He answered, smiling : 
 
 " I shall copy an extract for Miss Austin with great plea- 
 sure, provided she makes the selection ; but I have out- 
 grown the habit of extemporizing on paper for the delecta- 
 tion of my friends." 
 
 The truth was, Warren was in love ! and could not so readily 
 di\'ide his sentimentality with the world of women as he had 
 been wont to do ; they could have gallantry at his hand, it was 
 their due, but he was chary of anything more than the merest 
 lip service. 
 
 Again she turned a little uncomfortably to the examina- 
 
1 1 6 THE MOm'ANAS. 
 
 tion of rejected laces. Again he endeavored to take liis 
 leave, though at the very door of the establishment he en- 
 countered Miss Strawbridge. A mutual salutation ensued ; 
 then a consultation, in which Miss Austin joined delight- 
 edly, leaving the assiduous young man to put away his goods 
 without so much as thanking him for the effort to find for 
 her what she really did not want. From my post at the 
 further end of the store I beheld these proceedings, the 
 finale of which was, Cousin Warren offered an arm to each 
 of the ladies, and the trio passed together into the street. 
 
 I was aroused fi'om a fit of musing by the voice of Clyde, 
 who inquired if I was ready to go home. I gladly replied 
 in the affirmative, speedily rectifying my mistake concerning 
 the packages ; then we too went forth into the broad, bright 
 noonday, and the city outspread — a map of busy life, its 
 fluctuations and its vast concenis — through shady avenues, 
 streets dusty and sun-beaten, towards the home-way. After 
 what I had heard my ideas were so confused, that notwith- 
 standing I traced the shadow still upon his face, I had 
 neither mind nor heart to ask him why it was there, and no 
 spirit to make the faintest endeavor to chase it away. So we 
 two rode on in our accustomed silence back to Claremont. 
 
 The same evening after I had listened to the conversation 
 which took place between Retta Austin and Cousin Warren 
 in the store in Canal street, Raymond came in — our bright, 
 handsome Ray — tossing his brown curls and threading them 
 with his fingers, having previously sailed his broad-brimmed 
 Leghorn hat upon an imaginary sea ; which, being the 
 most accommodating of hats, having, doubtless, imbibed the 
 spirit of its owner, came back in a circle to the sofa in the 
 upper hall upon which he had ensconced himself; uttering 
 a shrill whistle, meant to illustrate the temperature of the 
 day, suggesting furthermore that his gentlemanship was 
 
THE MONTANAS. 117 
 
 very much fatigued and would take it in higli dudgeon if 
 no one came to fan him and inquire how he did. 
 
 Stanley and I were sitting in front of Aunt Edith's room 
 on the veranda, enjoying the soft breeze which came up 
 from the lake with the lulling, indistinct murmur of waves 
 breaking on a distant shore. Ray's whistle was unheeded 
 very soon he called out, in tones of gay reproach : 
 
 " Girls, you are inexorable to-day ; however, I happen to 
 be possessed of a piece of news which I am sure will startle 
 you very much. Jennie, bring your fan ; come sit here, Stan, 
 I want to lay my head in your lap and have you guess who 
 is in the city." I kept silence, waiting for Stanley to speak. 
 However, after several attempts and failures, Ray answered 
 his own question volubly : 
 
 "To-day, about noontime, I sauntered into the St. 
 Charles, thinking to meet a friend who is stopping there. 
 While in waiting I chanced to glance through an open door 
 leading into the ladies' dining-saloon, when I saw Hayne 
 sitting at table with an old gentleman whom we met at 
 Nahant, and two ladies. I was aware Hayne's stopping- 
 place was the Veranda. I was surprised to find him here. 
 A second inspection elucidated the mystery. The ladies 
 in question were Retta Austin and Miss Strawbridge ! 
 Now what in the name of St. CecUia do you suppose has 
 brought her to this city ? and what would she accept from 
 Warren after his open rejection of overtures from that quar- 
 ter on a pre\T.ous occasion ? Ah, me ! poor Hayne ! I 
 have an undefined conviction she will yet carry ofi" that fel- 
 low and marry him against his will ! " After which chari- 
 table speech our sage Raymond composed himself gently to 
 sleep. I fanned him patiently until the hour arrived which 
 I had appointed to see Miss Austin, if possible, for the pur- 
 pose of executing Stanley's conamission. 
 
118 THE MONT AN AS. 
 
 I drove down with a servant that afternoon; Clyde 
 came later, behind his ponies. I met both Warren and 
 Miss Strawbridge at Mr. Austin's. That haughty young 
 lady bowed very formally indeed when Retta pronounced 
 my name, as though the accent insulted her or was associ- 
 ated in her mind with something very unpleasant. 
 
 She absolutely frowned as Warren said to me, when, 
 after ha\dng obtained the samples for Stanley, I rose to 
 depart : " Wait a bit ; I will drive with you ; " then glanc- 
 ing hastily at his watch, added : " I forget I have an engage- 
 ment to meet Ingram precisely at six ; I will come out with 
 him." This word, and the accuracy of his emphasis in 
 speaking it, were peculiar to Warren. WTien I had taken 
 my seat in the carriage he said again : 
 
 " This little affair will not occupy me long ; please say 
 to the ladies I will do myself the honor to join them early 
 this evening. Au revoir." He went his way ; and again I 
 passed from the heated city into the shades of our conse- 
 crated home. 
 
 He was true to his word ! he came early. I sat with 
 Ray upon the veranda, when we saw them coming out on the 
 shell-road, he and Clyde in a light buggy together. How 
 handsome they were ! How radiant they appeared, wafting 
 graceful salutations to us as they came round the curve, 
 caressed with slanting sunbeams. The blush of red autumn 
 was upon the landscape and waves of the lake. The roseate 
 hue deepened as the sunlight paled in shadow ; but the 
 flush was in our memory long after, whenever we recalled 
 the day upon which our fate came to us in the form of Miss 
 Strawbridge. 
 
 Clyde sent his cream-colored ponies and buggy with his 
 groom back for Uncle Montana ; then joined us in the west 
 parlor, where the glow of sunset was lingering still. That 
 
THE MONTANA S. 119 
 
 was a happy evening. By tacit consent no one spoke or 
 seemed to think of Miss Strawbridge. We were very gay ; 
 even Aunt Edith joined us. It was only one of a series 
 spent thus in the same manner, but there was a strange 
 charm in it ; I know not why, save that it was the last we 
 were to have like it on this earth. Aye ! was it the last 
 of clear bright sunsets and shadowless moonbeams falling 
 through dark green foliage of fir and palmetto ; the last 
 circle of smiling faces at the sumptuous board; the last 
 musings and tender whisperings as evening waned ? Ah ! 
 yes ; the last of everything as it had been ; of all things 
 saving the farewells — one for a long time, and the other till 
 eternity. 
 
 Before Cousin Warren left us that night a chill autumn 
 rain fell. It seemed to pervade all things like a dense 
 gloom, and wrap its vestments around the sufferer. Wliich 
 one ? is now the query of my heart as I write after the 
 lapse of a few years which seemed to have been ages. 
 We heard the sound of falling rain upon the house. 
 
 It was over ; Warren was gone I but the rain and autumn 
 leaves were falling still, with a dreary sound which drowned 
 the music of the fountain. Vapors thickened about the 
 Gulf, slowly descendmg and wrapping the harbor fleet 
 like a shroud. I kept my watch at the window of my own 
 apartment for a long time ; then I went to Aunt Edith's 
 room and found Stanley sobbing on her mother's breast. 
 Alas ! how many tears she shed in after time, when there 
 was no bosom for her but her Saviour's and her friend's. My 
 own was always faithful. 
 
 When silence brooded in the great house and the world 
 without; when slumber descended upon bright eyes, love- 
 lighted with hope and joy, and eyes weighed down and 
 weary with the long out-look ; when there were tears in the 
 
120 ^^ THE MONTANA S. 
 
 eyes of the stars — I saw the orange-wreath that Warren's 
 hand had made, as it lay blighted in the misty night, beat- 
 en by the fountain's falling spray, cast hither and thither 
 by the drifting rain. A moan came up from the wide grey 
 sea, as if in its great deeps the gusts of a hidden storm were 
 breakinof. 
 
 I went and sat by Stanley's side while she slept — a smile 
 upon her fair young face. I knew she was dreaming of 
 days that were like golden ripples on a sea which was 
 shaken as by a presaged convulsion, whose moans were 
 like human voices — agonized suflfering in the changeful 
 night. 
 
 CHAPTER YIII. 
 
 *' For all that in this world is great or gay, 
 Doth as a vapor vanish and decay." 
 
 Spenser's " Ettens or Time.' 
 
 The flush was gone from the red autumn ; leaves fell sor- 
 rowfully with sharp sprinklings of snow that fell glistening 
 like frozen pearls upon the grass ; scarlet beiTies hung in 
 clusters looking sweetly picturesque, with their frame-work 
 of nut-bro*vn foHage flaming amid palmetto and larch. I 
 had never seen a Southern winter look so gloomy and for- 
 bidding ; the orange wreath lay withered where the foun- 
 tain fell, and that bright river which had hitherto kept pace 
 with my Ufe, was no longer a part of my musings. I seemed 
 to have been brought nearer to a dim space, shrouding the 
 vast ocean with its tides, in the two months that had elapsed 
 since Cousin Warren left us. The winter gaieties were full- 
 fledged; old courtiers were wont to say they had never 
 known a season so filled with attractive entertainments. 
 
THE MONTANA S. 121 
 
 We, being novices, were compelled to participate, and were 
 courted and flattered with attention from all quarters beyond 
 our power or desire'to retaliate. 
 
 Thus the days passed, and we out into tlie unknown. 
 Winter was drawino; to a close. No word from Cousin 
 Wa'rren since he reached home. Once or twice he had 
 written by the way, and that was all. What could mean 
 his cruel silence ? Alas, its consequences were plainly 
 visible ; Stanley drooped. I scarcely know how she was 
 enabled to pass through the ordeal of her formal introduc- 
 tion into society, yet she glided with her habitual queenly 
 grace through scenes bewildering enough to have quite 
 dazzled one less firmly poised. I remembered the words 
 Warren had spoken on first beholding : " I have never 
 seen one so youthful appear so empress-like." I have 
 beheld since, how that same expression trembled on the lips 
 of many within the circle of her own home. What to her 
 were words of adulation ? They did but mock her, secretly 
 pining as she was for the faintest sound that told of him. 
 
 One sad day the mystery was explained in a manner 
 which struck me dumb with astonishment. I chanced to 
 pick up a Northern newspaper Clyde had let fall as he came 
 from the breakfast-room. Glancing briefly at the contents, 
 I was about to throw it aside when my eye fell on a marked 
 paragraph, with Milverton's initials below traced with a pen- 
 cil. Warren Hayne and Miss Stravjhridge were married ! 
 
 It was this intelligfence that so amazed and shocked me. 
 I could not for some time avail myself of a single idea ; at 
 length, however, I found myself possessed of a vehicle 
 through which I could transport my thought to the star- 
 tling truth, uprisen in all its vast proportions, where the 
 flowers of the old hope lay crushed and fallen. It all seemed 
 so strange, so new and dreadful ! I made my way to Stan- 
 
 6 
 
1 2 2 THE MONTANA S. 
 
 ley's apartment, entirely unprepared for the sight that met 
 me there. Wa^ that white, fixed figure, so still and cold, with 
 glaring eyes of ocean blue, our joyous, merry -hearted child — 
 our Stanley? 
 
 I never should have been able to identify her but for the 
 sunny hair falling in golden masses over her rich dressing- 
 robe. She rose to receive me calmly, very calmly, so much 
 so that I, in my agitation, was brought to doubt that she 
 was yet aware of the strange, incomprehensible fact. Still 
 no word from her lips, only that fearful, fixed look in her 
 white face. My heart seemed burning within me — the room 
 was reeling. I must speak. In as steady a voice as I 
 could command, I said : " Stanley do you know — have 
 you heard ?" 
 
 Ever}^ precaution failed me here ; I burst into tears. I 
 would have clasped the poor stricken bird to my heart, but 
 that look on her face, so white and stony, repelled me. My 
 eyes were dry now ; she was first to speak. As she did so, 
 a look of wildness came into her beautiful eyes, but no glow 
 to her marble cheeks. The red current seemed to have 
 ebbed from sight with the tides of that bright dream and 
 the shores of the old time. How strange and far back in 
 the past it seemed; after all, it was only one of those 
 exquisite shapes which float in the dim air about us, yet 
 find no likeness in stern truths of every day. How many 
 bright tissues we weave about the forms we love and hope 
 to clasp so fondly ; yet at last, how they elude our eager 
 grasp and float beyond our reach. Then we go our way 
 through the semblance of things, our better, nobler, higher 
 selves lying in the grave of some vain endeavor. I saw it 
 would be thus with Stanley ; all heart and tenderness seemed 
 utterly gone ; all that was fairest, loveliest, and best, sat 
 mourning the far-off" time by the mortal remains of her 
 
THE MONTANAS. 12, \ 
 
 bright, beautiful dream. Her words came slowly aud 
 hoarsely : 
 
 " Yes, I know ! I have better authority perhaps than you 
 have; he was kind enough to forewarn me in a letter 
 which arrived this morning. I should have taken your ad- 
 vice, Jennie, which was, I believe, to clasp the chain about 
 my captive when the effort would have cost me less and 
 the distance have been more convenient. / envy you your 
 relative.'''' 
 
 I was cut to the heart by her cool sarcasm ; so wounded 
 by this unnatural taunt, I forgot at that moment her suffer- 
 ing and her wrong — everything. I now think that the 
 burst of passion to which I gave vent was her savino- ordi- 
 nance. My words relaxed the heart-strings winding more 
 and more tightly around the swift coil of fate for a final 
 terrible crash. 
 
 " Stanley, I think now you should have married Warren 
 when he wished it ; you loved him and he loved you ; it 
 was owing only to caprice that you did not go with him 
 when he willed it. But for this delay you might both to- 
 day have been happier. You may have been the chosen 
 instrument to save himself and others; you rejected the 
 oflBce. Has conscience no voice in the matter ? I have no 
 word to offer in extenuation of his conduct ; but I do say I 
 believe it will be much modified when we come to know all 
 the influences that impelled him to this hasty course." 
 
 " I never wish to know more than I know now ! All the 
 gilded tissues in the world could not disguise the horrible 
 distorted fact. The very thought of extenuation is abhor- 
 rent to me. Loved him ? Ah ! yes, as T, poor silly child,^ 
 loved him he will never again be loved. That love was the 
 glory of my life ! It lighted the earth by day and the hea- 
 vens by night. I came to womanhood with no other 
 
124 THE MONTANA S. 
 
 thought or hope than those which circled about and cen- 
 tred in him, ray ideal of all that was high, generous, and 
 noble. How it is fallen and lying in the dust at my feet ! " 
 She sat for some time so still-looking into the dark space 
 that had opened into her young life so soulless and cold, I 
 was really alarmed. She added, with a bitter mocking smile : 
 
 " He said he loved me, that he lived but for my smile ; 
 he called me tender names, but now — oh ! I believe I am 
 mad ! for Warren Hayne's kisses arc burning on my lips, 
 and his tones of endearment ringing in my heart ! Oh ! if 
 I could only strike them from my monory as he has rifled 
 my hope ! Could I but tear his image, with its earnest 
 eyes — yet reading my soul — mocking me with that false 
 one of his — from my life, and die. Ah ! yes, death, decay, 
 darkness ; anything is preferable to this agonized torture. 
 Oh ! why do I feel as if there was no truth on earth, and 
 even God were false ! For is not he, Warren Hayne, now 
 pouring into the listening ears of the woman he has chosen 
 the story of the miserable little dupe who thus loved him ! 
 whom he deceived and trifled with ! And she is gloating 
 o'er her triumph ! — the triumph achieved through her paltry 
 gold." She arose and walked the apartment slowly ; she 
 was not agitated, on the contrary she was still so pretema- 
 turally calm I really feared her ; to arouse gentler thoughts 
 I spoke of her mother. 
 
 " Oh ! my mother," she exclaimed, something like terror 
 rising in her white face — whiter than before, but motionless 
 of muscle and fibre as a tablet which marks a grave ; " she 
 must not know this, Jennie ; it would kill her outright. Let 
 fio word on this subject to any one escape your lips. I 
 will fight this battle with myself alone." She emphasized 
 the pronoun singularly, that other self she meant; she 
 seemed to be seeking to discern it through new dim spaces 
 
THE MONTANA S. 125 
 
 — backward lying in her life — as she continued : " Never 
 name it even to me. I have done with it utterlv as thouo-h 
 it had never been. I regret nothing so much as the crushed 
 idol fallen on the dusty way w^hich I must tread." She was 
 tearless still, but there was a look of such utter weariness on 
 her beautiful face that told of a great soul-sickness within. 
 My heart bled for her, poor stricken bird, but I could only 
 wait until the ice was broken up. I recalled Warren's 
 words, the last evening at Nahant. I saw as then the great 
 sea with its waves crashing near, and the storm risino- in 
 its heart. Far out through mist in the depths of that im- 
 measurable space into which she had drifted I saw the lone 
 ship cutting her silent way, waves lashing her gilded sides, 
 wind crashing through her sails, driving onward to the dim 
 unknown. Ah ! could Warren, lashed to a dull shore which- 
 she had left, do cheerfully his work of life- with eyes fixed 
 on that timid sail fluttering white in the distance, which grew 
 wider every hour? I felt then that his would be a drearier 
 task than hers in the time to come ; so I spoke hopefully : 
 
 " Stanley, you are young and beautiful and proud. Rise 
 above this thing; strength will be given you to do so, I 
 firmly believe. It will be hard. I know what it is ; for I 
 have not myself been without sorrow. I tell you this, that 
 I may claim the privilege of enduring with, you ; we will 
 bear together in silence, yet in sympathy, this heavy burden, 
 until we come to a calm resting-place in the great journey." 
 
 " Thank you, Jennie, my true, true friend ; I will accept 
 what you so kindly offer — confidence, sympathy, everythino- 
 — any other time ; but to-day I am better off alone. Leave 
 me, dear, and go to mamma; she will miss me, and she 
 must not know ! " 
 
 There was both appeal and warning in her face : in it I 
 traced a gleam of the old self— the childish, guileless self — 
 
123 THE MOXTANAS. 
 
 looking througli the eyes of this strong "woman, who had 
 so i)roudly mocked the image of her idolatry a few momenta 
 earlier. Seeing this, it was hard to leave her ; Lut she 
 wished it and I went. I heard her bolt the door ; then all 
 day long she paced to and fro ; I, waiting in dumb anguish, 
 served her meantime as best I could. 
 
 Aunt Edith hiquired for Stanley. I answered her with 
 as much cheerfulness as I could assume ; telling her Stanley 
 was suffering from an attack of nen'ous headache ; had not 
 slept the previous night, and wished to remain alone in her 
 room ; she would soon be with us again. Then I gave 
 Hawsey private instructions not to disturb her young mis- 
 tress by going to her room ; she was sleeping, and would 
 not come down to dinner. There was no one present when 
 that meal was served, excepting Miss Phoebe and myself. 
 Aunt Edith did not appear, and the gentlemen were not 
 home until evening. Aunt Dinah was enjoying her usual 
 state of teaiful solicitude about members of the household 
 in general : her sympathy was manifest in effect. She con- 
 sumed herself a double portion of the viands left untasted 
 on the table, abundantly grateful for the blessings of Provi- 
 dence, among which was health and strength to enjoy what 
 was prepared for others. 
 
 I carried a dainty little repast to Stanley's room; but 
 she entreated me in tones of such broken sufferina: not to 
 force anything upon her, that I descended again to the 
 dining-room with her food untasted. Aunt Dinah's ban- 
 dana was brought into solemn requisition. She had fears 
 for " Miss Stanley, poor child." My heart echoed faintly, 
 " Poor child ! " yet I felt no sorrow for her in that guise, 
 loving, simple, trustful, hopeful — hke that I now felt for the 
 Avoman, full-grown, developed in suffering — to whom these 
 qualities were lost, and could never be restored. 
 
THE MONTANA S. 127 
 
 All that long, drowsy afternoon, with a secret knowled^-e 
 how the spirit of this woman, stricken and proud, was 
 striving with itself, I did my duty as usual ; I read aloud 
 for Aunt Edith while Hawsey brushed and plaited her long 
 brown hair. Miss Phoebe sat knitting, gentle and still, 
 while the sunshine came in, barring walls and pictures, the 
 bookcase, and bed where Aunt Edith sat propped by pil- 
 lows — bringing upon shining wings the odor of flowers 
 — faded and gone like the summer the murmur of the 
 fountain — all were alike to what they were on a certain 
 morning when I noted them before. The group, wanting 
 one fio-ure, was likewise the same. I heard the words of 
 Hawsey in her idle talk, mingled with the steady rattle of 
 Miss Phoebe's needles as she knitted into the fabric of other 
 strange occurrences, the broken threads of this broken dream 
 of Stanley's. Its crash had not yet jarred upon the house- 
 hold, which moved in the routine habitual to it. The har- 
 mony was still unbroken. Golden ripples of sunlight crept 
 lower on the wall; at length the shining track grew crimson and 
 disappeared entirely. Grey twilight came softly; then the 
 dimmest of darkness fell upon the picture and broken dream. 
 The sun was gone doAvn into a great, wide, inexorable sea. 
 
 I heard Raymond's voice in the hall calling, as usual, for 
 his sister. I was amazed at the black, lowering brow with 
 which he received the intelligence that she was not well. 
 He gave me a piercing look, which I answered with a glance 
 of assurance to him that she knew all and would bear it bravely. 
 He drew me with him into the dining-room, in obedience to 
 some little words of caution which I dropped concerning Aunt 
 Edith. There he drew ft'om each pocket a revolver, burnished 
 and glittering, with silver-mountings flashing in the dim light. 
 
 " In the name of Heaven, Ray, what would you do with 
 those terrible engines of death ? " 
 
12S THE MOXTANAS. 
 
 " In the name of Heaven^'' he answered, " I shall kill that 
 contemptible villain who has deceived and wronged uiy 
 sister." There was, indeed, murder in his eyes ! I could 
 only shrink and tremble ; I was powerless to do or say any- 
 thing that would turn him from his purpose. Poor, poor 
 Stanley ! Our pet, our pride, our sunshine ! It was upon 
 her that Warren Hayne had put this bitter insult. I saw 
 it now in that light. Before, I had only thought of the 
 suffering she must endure. My tears fell fast and burning, 
 though I gulped down the hump in my throat and went to 
 Ray, her brother, so stricken at the thought of her grief, 
 lifted the matted curls from his fevered brow, and running 
 my fingers through them, as was his custom, I essayed to 
 speak — with poor success. He promised, however, to aid 
 us in keeping the knowledge of what concerned us all so 
 nearly from his mother. He did not relinquish, yet did 
 not repeat the threat of vengeance : I saw his purpose 
 deepening as the darkness gathered without — growing more 
 solemn and certain of fulfilment every hour. Yes, I saw 
 it, trembling with dread. 
 
 It was a strangre, dismal meetinor round the tea-table that 
 evening. My uncle was not present ; Clyde was moodily 
 silent, as usual ; Raymond's brow wore somewhat the aspect 
 of gathering thunderbolts. As for myself, I was thinking 
 of Stanley's strange words in the forenoon, and did the 
 honors constrainedly. Ray pushed his plate away, to the 
 discomfiture of Aunt Dinah, who had broiled his quails to 
 the nicest shade of brownness, leaving them untasted, and 
 went slowly up-stairs. I heard him knock once, twice, 
 thrice, at the door of Stanley's apartments. He was ad- 
 mitted, and remained a long time ; finally, when he came 
 down, looking softened and subdued, the thought of his 
 threatened vengeance passed out of my mind. I carried a 
 
THE MONTANAS. 129 
 
 cup of tea to Stanley to please poor Aunt Dinah, wlio was 
 growing more and more wretched and tearful every hour for 
 the shortcomings of our degenerate household. 
 
 I found my friend lying on a couch, her beautiful hair 
 streaming wildly over her white pillow. Hawsey followed 
 with a lamp, but Ray had lighted one of the wax tapers 
 which stood on her toilet, so I motioned the faithful girl to 
 leave us ; she obeyed with tears in her eyes ; they were in 
 mine too. I prevailed on Stanley to drink the tea ; she 
 was very pale, but I was rejoiced that no trace of the 
 haughty woman, who had so sternly looked her desolation 
 in the face, remained. She was tearful and silent, yet ap- 
 peared patient and gentle as a child. She wound her arms 
 about my neck and kissed me ; well I understood that silent 
 caress. She was mutely asking my pardon for what trans- 
 pired in the morning ; I looked my forgiveness all, but not 
 a tithe of the great love which made her a possession of 
 my own. I told her I was vain enough to feel that I had 
 a place in her heart which no one else could fill, and that 
 when the wheel went round and she came back to the place 
 where she had left me, she would want me then and would 
 not hesitate to let me know it. And so it happened from 
 that hour — in every conflict with herself she achieved a 
 victory over that stern, hard usurper of the morning all alone. 
 
 On the following day Stanley arose and went about her 
 ordinary life as usual; dissevered from the life that was 
 ended, yet never looking back; no, nor forward to that 
 which was to come ; she took her place at her mother's side 
 as though nothing had happened. The severest mandate 
 of grief is that we are ofttimes forced to wear a mask with 
 which to hide its gnawings. 
 
 Stanley's embroidery was resumed ; the knitting was in 
 a comfortable state of progression. Hawsey combed Aunt 
 
] 30 THE MOKTANAS. 
 
 Edith's lono: hair, whilst I read from the crrcat volume. 
 The father did his work of life in the city, assisted by Ray- 
 mond and Clyde ; in our household everything was going 
 on as it was wont to do ; only I observed with pain how 
 Stanley grew whiter, more silently taciturn day by day. 
 She often spent hours by herself; during which seasons, 
 with the effort of keeping from Aunt Edith and the servants 
 the knowledge of her sorrow, my energies were taxed to 
 the uttermost. 
 
 One afternoon she sat for a long time listlessly looking 
 into space. I think she was unconscious of her attitude of 
 deep pre-occupation until aroused by words of her mother : 
 
 " "V\Tiere has been my sunshine of late ? She seems to 
 have taken refuo^e behind an overarchhig: cloud of silence 
 and reserve. Stanley, my pet, what is the matter ? " 
 
 "jNTothing," the white lips answered. 
 
 " Nothing, dearest, are you sure ? " 
 
 Again the white lips moved, though now 'twas only an 
 echo, repeated more faintly — " Nothing." 
 
 The swift fingers of Miss Phoebe entwined the disavowal 
 with her record of events. Hawsey's bright eyes were full 
 of unshed tears as she trailed the coil of rich brown hair 
 into a Grecian knot, then went out to shed them in secret. 
 
 Aunt Edith's head drooped lower on the pillow; her 
 heavy lids fell dreamily upon two sunken cheeks. To her 
 life was a spirit fetter, nothing more ; yet to Stanley 
 
 Ah ! w^as it nothing that the strong stay had failed her 
 when most loved and trusted ? Nothing that the \xy ten- 
 drils of her sweet afi*ection had been rudely torn from their 
 support, and lay crushed and withered on the earth? 
 Nothing that the universe was changed and the light of day 
 gone from the face of heaven? Ah! nothing; the white 
 lips said so. My heart repeated the echo of other words 
 
THE MONTANAS. 13\ 
 
 spoken by other lips in other time and place, when the 
 chain was cemented, and two shadows blent in moonbeams 
 on the sanded floor; as Warren Hayne led Stanley forth 
 one evening long ago. The world, which seemed now so 
 narrow and blank, then was wide and fair, and life was beau- 
 tiful ; but now, all this was nothing ! I repeated the word 
 in the depths of my spirit many times. Only another 
 stricken heart deprived of its anchor, hope ; from a twin 
 bark dissevered, drifting out with the great tides of human 
 destiny. The orange wreath lay withered where the foun- 
 tain fell — the beautiful river was lost amid barren sands on 
 a desolate shore ; its golden ripples broken to ebb no more, 
 and a solitary ship driving on through mist and darkness, 
 outward to the far-lying sea. I began to feel it my 
 duty to inform Aunt Edith what had occurred to make 
 this change in Stanley. I signified to her my intention of 
 imparting something of importance; she bade me send 
 Hawsey out of the room. Miss Phoebe was to remain ; she 
 was one of us. I had commenced my narrative of sorrow- 
 ful events, with which the reader is fully acquainted, when 
 Retta Austin dashed into the room like a domestic tempest. 
 She took great liberties in our household, so she informed 
 us ; half expecting we would gainsay a fact of which we were 
 all too sensible. She excused herself, however, upon the 
 ground of her anxiety respecting Mrs. Montana's precarious 
 health. It was this which induced her to avail herself of 
 the opportunity of coming out with Lane, who was on his 
 way to Brightland. Her quick eye caught Aunt Edith's 
 look of depression, and my own of inattention, as she rat- 
 tled on in her voluble fashion for a while ; then inquired of 
 Miss Phoebe for Stanley. The gentle little woman replied 
 by looking hopelessly in my direction ; which appeal I 
 readily interpreted, and replied that Miss Montana was 
 
1 3 2 THE MONTANA S. 
 
 suffering from a severe attack of headache, and requested 
 to be excused to visitors. 
 
 "IIow long has she been thus affected?" she answered, 
 with sarcastic coldness. I saw the drift of her thoughts — 
 knew before the reason of her coming ; Miss Austin never 
 did the slightest thing without a concealed purpose. I 
 replied, with a haughtiness which equalled her own, "that 
 Stanley had lain down since dinner." She sat for some 
 time biting the fingers of her dainty glove ; at length she 
 said, sharply : 
 
 " I presume you were all much surprised to hear of Mr. 
 Hayne's marriage ! " 
 
 Miss Phoebe's knitting-work actually dropped from her 
 fingers. I- answered -Aunt Edith's glance of inquiry with 
 an aflirmative gesture, merely signifying that this was 
 what I meant to tell her. She composed her face with an 
 effort for which I blessed her in my heart, and replied that 
 she had felt very little emotion on the subject. 
 
 " Oh, no, of course not ; the difference to any one at 
 Claremont would be very slight, whether Mr. Hayne were 
 married or single in one sense ; though I supposed his 
 friends " — she emphasized the word — " and relatives " — 
 here she looked at me — " would naturally feel some little 
 interest in his welfare, if only to rejoice in his having secured 
 to himself so fortunate an alliance. Miss Strawbridge is a 
 great beauty, you know, besides being a millionaire!''' 
 
 I was only consoled in our joint endurance of this last 
 palpable insult, to feel how these words had ploughed 
 through Retta Austin's haughty heart and left their furrows 
 there. I felt I never could have been brought to retaliate 
 in the spirit which prompted her to say these things ; for 
 she too loved my cousin Warren with all the strength and 
 fidelity of which a nature like hers was capable. Both 
 
THE MONT AN AS. 133 
 
 Aunt Edith and myself were silent. When the black eves 
 were brought to bear on Miss Phoebe she merely said, 
 " Indeed ; I was not aware he had been so favored." Her 
 speech referred merely to the money arrangement, after 
 which she resumed her knitting with the usual quietness. 
 
 After a few cursory observations, each pointed and signifi- 
 cant, Miss Austin took from her pocket a tiny rose-colored 
 note, sealed and scented, which she left with Aunt Edith 
 for Raymond, remarking merely that it contained com- 
 missions which he had promised to execute for her in the 
 East. 
 
 I fear my face must have expressed the terror I felt ; I 
 knew I was pale; the life-blood was sinkmg slowly, and a 
 coil of agony seemed tightening around my heart. I 
 answered quietly as I could : 
 
 " Of course, he will take great pleasure ; he goes, let me 
 see, when ? " 
 
 " This afternoon, I think ; he told me he thought he 
 should leave on the five o'clock boat to-day. I called at 
 the bank, but failing to find him, I came this far with 
 Lane. Of course you will see him ere he departs." 
 
 I was agonized beyond expression ; Miss Austin, without 
 designing to do so, had been of infinite service to me. 
 There was no time to lose. I rang the bell and ordered the 
 carriage hastily ; left Aunt Edith with a promise to return 
 speedily as possible. I then went to Stanley's room and 
 informed her what must be done, and done quickly. She 
 was lying listlessly, her slender fingers clasped over her 
 white brow, from which her golden hair was flowing. It 
 seemed cruel to bring this new terror upon her, though 
 she was prompt to feel the force and exigency of the case. 
 When the carriage came round we were ready to depart. 
 Swiftly down the road over which Clyde and I had passed 
 
134 TEE MONTANAS. 
 
 on that bright morning in the autumn-time we glided now. 
 On through busy thoroughfares and avenues all shady and 
 fragrant with the breath of exotics, and by streets crisp 
 and sere, teeming with life that was warped and withered, 
 we passed to Uncle Montana's banking-house. Raymond 
 was gone. We threaded our way through the busy 
 throng on the levee, in imminent danger of being swallowed 
 up in the tumultuous din, w^hen Lane Austin, who had 
 come down to superintend his father's shipments a moment 
 before, rescued us with great suavity. In answer to my 
 inquiry he said, "Raymond is on board. I saw him 
 standing with Ingram on the upper guard. I will en- 
 deavor to secure his attention for you." So saying, he 
 conducted us aboard, and after a few inquiries at the oflSce, 
 led us back to an apartment near the ladies' saloon, in 
 which sat the truants for whom we were searching.. The 
 door was partially ajar ; I saw at a glance that Clyde's 
 attitude was one of eager appeal, while Ray, our bright 
 sunny Ray of old, now he was moody and still, his brows 
 knitted in angry, gloomy defiance. How changed he was 
 of late ! He started slightly on beholding us, but recovered 
 himself instantly ; he endeavored to carry off with a high 
 hand the part which he meant to play in this new, strange 
 drama, though he found the effort very difficult beneath 
 the calm scrutiny of his sister. She bent her white face 
 over him with a look from which there was no es- 
 cape ; she would speak, and he must listen; and he did, 
 thouo^h the look of firm determination did not leave his 
 glorious eyes even when he resolved to hear all that she 
 wished to say. 
 
 There was no visible emotion when she did speak in her 
 face or voice, only she crushed my hand until the little 
 plain gold ring, my love-gift of childhood, was almost 
 
THE MONTANAS. 135 
 
 buried in the flesh. My eyes followed the donor — once a 
 brother, now so no more — as he passed through an outer 
 door to the guard, and stood watching the sun-bright sur- 
 face of the calm, still river, and the winter sun, half hidden 
 in its heart. Bright beams gathered round, seeming to 
 caress him with their sheen, while their fiery fingers toyed 
 with his dark-brown locks, and danced to fairy music in the 
 clear depths of his splendid eyes. How strangely Stanley's 
 words broke on the spell with which I contemplated him — 
 his attitude and expression. 
 
 " Ray, why did you leave us, with never a word of fare- 
 well?" 
 
 The brother was silent; he did not tell her it was 
 because he had seen how that silent sorrow was daily 
 making inroads in her young life, and he could not bear to 
 meet the look in her white face, mute evidence of the 
 change la few short hours had made. He who loved her 
 did not tell her what was in his thought and mind ; how 
 we had in her home seen the orange blossoms lying crisp 
 and withered; and through the crushed and broken dream 
 no golden river glided. The rosy current, like the last 
 tint from the sunset sky, had faded, and there were only the 
 white, still waters of her young existence bearing the frag- 
 ments of a morning hope to the far sea. Our hearts bled 
 at the sight ; we could not bear to look upon it, though there 
 was majesty in those depths of woman-nature thus revealed 
 by the sudden sorrow — the majesty of one ready for the 
 journey — equipped for the warfare with life and with fate. 
 In answer to this new-bom strength and power, profound 
 respect was added to her brother's fondness for his sister. 
 The recognition of these attributes trembled in his tones 
 when he answered her : 
 
 " Stanley, I did not teU you, because — because T go to 
 
136 THE MONTANA S. 
 
 settle a terrible account with one who has wronged you." 
 He broke down here utterly ; the faintest flicker of color, 
 like the tinge of crushed roses, came up in her white cheeks 
 for a moment, then sank again ; a wave of the old life 
 touched once again the desolate coast where she was 
 stranded. She did not falter in her purpose. I have heard 
 such words but once, and hope I shall never hear them 
 again. Oh ! the eloquence of woman's lips, trampling 
 pride with every selfish consideration beneath her feet ; she 
 can only speak as Stanley did when pleading for the life of 
 him she loved, who was so far and yet so near. Ah ! so 
 near, his presence in her own home — w^alking its paths 
 with his kingly tread, crushing the flowers he scattered 
 there. Nearer still, enshrined in her innermost heart of 
 hearts, yet smiling peacefully from out blue spaces lying 
 misty and far — distant beyond an eternal gulf, immutable as 
 the shining heavens and the word that "shall not pass 
 away." 
 
 " Raymond, once for all, if you love me — if you have 
 ever done so — hear me now. You must not go to Warren 
 Hayne as the champion of a proud woman who would not 
 thus admit and acknowledge his slight, if I died for locking 
 it in my heart. Do not cast this stigma upon me. His 
 life could not bring back my trust if he lost it, neither 
 could that atone for what I should sufi"er in the knowledge 
 that my name w^as bandied, the plaything of careless sport- ' 
 ing tongues, as one whom he had won, betrayed, and for- 
 saken. You have not thought earnestly of this thing, else, 
 even in your just desire for vengeance, you would not render 
 me liable to what I should incur in the event of his death 
 at your hands. Besides, you mistake me ; I do not regret 
 Warren now ; 'tis only what perished with him — my glorious 
 ideal of manliness, my former self-^that wasted year, and 
 
THE MONTANAS. 137 
 
 all tlie other things that would never come back to me in 
 this world, if he should die a thousand times over. 
 
 " Besides, again, he may not be so culpable as we deem 
 him ; the tenor of his brief letter I do not comprehend; it 
 is ambiguous. ^\Tiat can he mean by this sarcastic refer- 
 ence to miserable misunderstandings that have occurred, 
 and the letters he has written me that have remained un- 
 answered ? Why, because they were never received ; then 
 his closing benediction : ' I hope you will be happy in your 
 choice. Perhaps it was all for the best.' ^ATiat can it mean ? " 
 
 " I regard that as a miserable subterfuge ; nevertheless, 
 yours is perhaps the right view of the subject. It shall be 
 as you say. Now I wish to speak to you of other things, 
 of which Clyde and I have talked this morning ; matters 
 are arranged for your acceptance or rejection." 
 
 I left them here, and passed out through the door, and 
 stood beside Clyde in that strange silence which of late 
 was with us always. 
 
 " Were you aware of Raymond's purpose of visiting the 
 North ? " I asked, at length. 
 
 " Yes," he answered, somewhat drily ; " though I imagine 
 his main object was to meet cousin Mary ; though I believe 
 he would have held Hayne accountable for his recent con- 
 duct towards our sister." 
 
 Our sister ! I was not his sister ; he had told me so once, 
 and I was thinking of it as he stood looking dreamily at 
 the water, then at the far-off sky, where it met and embraced 
 the sea. Again the silence; I thought now it would never 
 end. What if it should last from gliding age to age through- 
 out eternity ? Yet better this than the words which dropped 
 slowly like molten iron on my heart, and hardened as they fell. 
 
 " Aljean, I believe you love me as a sister, though 
 sometimes I have been led to doubt even that. Xow I 
 
138 « THE MOXTANAS. 
 
 want to ask your advice on a subject of \'ital interest to all 
 concerned in it My step-father, wlio, as you know, has 
 ever been indulgent and kind to me, has long ago set his 
 heart upon ha\dng us married — Stanley and myself. He 
 has frequently referred the subject to me indirectly. Until 
 recently I have set the issue far from both of us. Now she 
 is unhappy ; if I, in my sad way, can do anght to make the 
 thorny path a little smoother for her feet, I will endeavor 
 to do so if I assume the sacred duty. Let me hear what 
 you have to say ; what I offer her rests with you entirely." 
 
 Reader, I thouo-ht he was mockinoj me : and mv answering 
 words fell seethingly from lips that were rigid and cold. 
 
 " And you submit this to me, Clyde Ingram ? How 
 could weak words of mine weigh against the voice of your 
 heart ? It would be as a faint echo amid its sounds, a thing 
 of air. What is my poor opinion worth to a man that 
 stands so far beyond me — up among those rising stars yon- 
 der ? Yet you have asked it, and you shall have it. Marry 
 Stanley by all means ! She is not particularly fond of you, 
 to be sure, but you, who have loved so long and so ardently, 
 can allow for the lack on her part. If she can unlearn somo 
 other lessons of her life, she may come in time to love you." 
 
 " According to the evidence of your words and manner 
 it would be an exceedingly difficult task," he answered, 
 with bitter calmness ; " as regards what you say concerning 
 my life-long devotion to her, I should certainly deem you 
 insane did not other passionless utterances convince me to 
 the contrary. You have clearly forgotten, I see, what it 
 gives me both pain and pleasure to remember ; but that is 
 far back in the past. I too will try to forget it has ever 
 been, since you have not only outgrown the memory but 
 have chosen to ignore the fact that the tnith ever existed. 
 Mine will not be a long life ; I have a prophetic assurance 
 
THE M OS TANAS. 139 
 
 that you will surv^ive me many years. Some time, when tlie 
 grass is growing through and through my heart, or the 
 snow lies cold upon it, you will count its throbs of these 
 silent days and know why I submit to you this last appeal 
 under so strange a semblance. You will know it all then, 
 and in the solitudes of coming years the burden of a prayer 
 gone by will come to you, from which you turned to-day. 
 Yours nmst be the final fiat. These months of silence are 
 your wish and will ; I have taken no appeal from them save 
 this ; jou can take none upon the silent ages that ensue." 
 
 For answer I drew the little ring, which I had worn so 
 long, from my finger and placed it in his hand, t even 
 tried to smile when I said, " It must be yours now, Clyde ; 
 you will soon be a married man, you know." 
 
 " There is one thing needful," he added, in tones whose 
 bitterness was tempered with graceful humor — " Stanley's 
 consent. Cannot you and Mr. Austin take the prece- 
 dence ? " 
 
 In my astonishment I never knew how it came to pass 
 that Stanley, for her dear mother's sake, put her hand in 
 Clyde's and murmured some words about doing her duty 
 towards him. Ah ! she never thought then of any vaster 
 duty omitted in the very onset. A simple act of the State 
 Legislature can legalize, but can it do the rest of many 
 things involved in a marriage whose chiefest consideration 
 is of duty that should be pleasure ? 
 
 Lane Austin came to see us on the shore, appropriating 
 rae to himself naturally as though I belonged to him. Then 
 we left Ray, charged with a kind farewell to his mother, 
 standing on the guard ; and when Lane saw us safely in our 
 carriage, he, too, went his way, and we three in the winter 
 twilight drove back to Claremont. Clyde silent, as usual ; 
 Stanley's head upon my shoulder, her beautiful hair all wet 
 
140 TUE MOXTANAS. 
 
 with mist or tears, I know not which. It all happened so 
 strangely, yet we found ourselves sitting quietly in Aunt 
 Edith's room ; Hawsey was sleeping bolt upright on a 
 cushion, and Miss Phoebe's busy needles were knitting into 
 the eternal mesh the events of this strange day. My past 
 life, as I recalled it, seemed like some wild, weird dream, 
 broken here and there by the gleaming of a golden river of 
 hope ; but the bitter agony with which I too fought my 
 battle to its close and the victory achieved through God's 
 aid, that was not a dream. 
 
 A few evenings after I stood upon the veranda which 
 bordered the west parlor looking out upon the far sea, lying 
 cold and solemn and grey in the star-spangled starlight, 
 when a low voice beside me asked : 
 
 " Of what were you thinking, Jennie ? " 
 
 I started slightly ; a shiver ran through my frame : a shi- 
 ver that was half delight and half the chill of fate ; but I 
 answered in low firm tones, with the voice that always came 
 to me in my childish days — 
 
 "I was recalling a portion of Maud Miiller; you remem- 
 ber reading it to me one evening when we sat under tho 
 cedars at Brightland — 
 
 " ' For of all sad words of tongue or pen, 
 
 The saddest are these — ' It might have been. ' " 
 
 " Whittier was wrong, Jennie. There are words sadder 
 far than these — of fuller, more bitter significance — ' It 
 could not 6e.' " 
 
 To my death hour I shaU never quite forget the tones in 
 which Clyde Ingram uttered these words. I can hear their 
 cadence still, and feel again the same wild impulse rising in 
 my heart, to ask — Vslij it could not be ? Had I done so, the 
 barriers would all have been swept away ; but. some fate 
 
THE MONTANA S. 141 
 
 kept me silent, and the struggle with which that silence 
 was rife, Clyde Ingram never knew. Now at the close of 
 years, which have rung their deep and solemn changes 
 in between — I conclude that quotation as though he was 
 this day my hstener: 
 
 " Ah I well for us all some sweet hope lies 
 Deeply buried from human eyes ; 
 And in the hereafter angels may 
 Roll the stone from its grave away." 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Spring came — 
 
 " Flowers in the valley, splendor in the beam : 
 "Wealth in the gale, and freshness in the stream." 
 
 Its whisper was in the breeze, from the lake and the 
 moon, from the sea. All its voices were sounds of glad- 
 ness ; flow^ers up-sprang where footprints were sunny 
 through woodland ways. In our bright, beautifnl home 
 were flowers and sunshine everywhere, without and within. 
 
 " The world leads round the seasons in a choir — 
 For ever changing and for ever new." 
 
 " Blending the grand, the beautiful and gay, 
 The mournful and the tender in one strain." 
 
 Though in our home there was a white face growing 
 whiter day by day, we were happy that she lingered with 
 us. " Now there was no denying the fact — Aunt Edith was 
 sinking slowly : the unfailing needles of Miss Phoebe told 
 the story. During the oft-repeated recital we often saw 
 how their lustre was dimmed with silent falling tears ; the 
 
142 THE MONT AK AS. 
 
 result was, they were a trifle more tardy in their round of 
 duty than formerly. 
 
 Oh ! it is dreadful to watch the slow consumption of 
 vitality — a lingering death in life. It has ever been my 
 prayer that to me or mine it should not come. 
 
 Stanley sat all day long now by her mother's side ; yet 
 when evening came — soft and balmy as evenings this season 
 and clime are wont to do — when Aunt Edith slept a sleep 
 of exhaustion, she would steal into her own beautiful room 
 and sit thinking, with her eyes fixed on a little silver track 
 of moonlight that always came and rested, brightened and 
 faded at her feet. On coming one evening to her room, 
 while she sat musing thus, I saw that the disc was overcast 
 and the little beam paler even than usual. 
 
 " Stanley, darling, why do you sit here in the shadow ? 
 come into the piazza, it is \ery bright without," she 
 answered sorrowfully. 
 
 "You are right; but I do not enjoy so much what is 
 given alike to all the world. This little ray is mine. It 
 seems a symbol of your dear generous love, Jennie, which 
 always comes to seek me out when sitting lonely in the 
 shadow at evening time." 
 
 I kissed the sweet, white face upturned to mine, lovingly 
 as of old. The tears that were in my heart, despite my 
 effort, would break hoarsely into my voice when I spoke. 
 
 " Yes, I come to seek you, Stanley ; sometimes when I 
 fear I am annoying you — often when I should leave you to 
 yourself; but the house seems to want you, and then I too 
 need you so much. It is from no merit of mine this love 
 for you in my heart so constantly arises, and will not be 
 put down. You yourself compel the sentiment by render- 
 ing yourself necessary to my happiness. I hope I shall 
 never see the day that will separate us entirely." 
 
THE MONTANAS. 143 
 
 " Nor I, Jennie ; you must live with me always after ; after 
 this marriage, you know." She spoke resolutely — shudder- 
 ingly. It was the first time since the evening of Ray's 
 departure — in all our confidences — this subject had come 
 between us. Now I trembled so \'iolently, I feared lest she 
 should observe my agitation and divine the cause ; I adopted 
 the subterfuge of appearing to misinterpret her. I turned 
 my face away as I answered carelessly, taking first the pre- 
 caution to steel my voice against the pain that was rankling 
 in my heart : 
 
 " Yes, I presume Ray and Mary will marry very soon. I 
 imagrined as much on first becominor aware of his intention 
 to estabUsh himself in busmess at the North." 
 
 It was long before she spoke. Eye and? thought strayed 
 from her little track of moonlight, out upon the purple space 
 upwards, where worlds shone dimly and far offj like the 
 dream and prayer gone by. 
 
 " No, Jennie, you do not understand me ; it is not Ray's 
 marriage to which I refer, it is my own ; yes, my own ! I 
 have come to a point from which I can estimate very calmly 
 things that must be ; they are in my destiny and will hap- 
 pen ; I cannot avoid them — I shall try to do so no longer. 
 It will make my sweet mother happy before she goes to see 
 me marry Clyde and become permanently settled. It will 
 save Claremont perhaps from strangers, and will require no 
 sacrifice on my part. What little tenderness is left in my 
 nature I consecrate to that brave, generous brother-husband, 
 who will claim me. I will try very hard to make him 
 happy ; with your help I think I shall succeed. But, Jennie 
 dear, I always believed Clyde loved you, and sometimes 
 have hoped you cared for him, until recently you have 
 treated him so capriciously and coldly. Now do not curl 
 your lip in that fashion, Jennie, and look at me so defiantly, 
 
144 TUE MONT AN AS. 
 
 I am not going to censure you. I should not do so even if 
 I felt I had the right. I meant no reproach that it is not 
 so. These things are beyond the range of finite will ; we 
 have no power over them whatever." 
 
 All along I had found myself hoping that Stanley would 
 not marry Clyde; now I sat quite still while she told me 
 these things ; my bright, bright dream was ended — passed 
 away utterly as though it had never been. Oh, why could 
 I not speak out and tell her all I felt, and all that I should 
 suflfer in such an event ! No no, it were best not ; Clyde 
 loved her with more than a brother's devotion ; she might 
 in time learn to love him well. I at least would not deprive 
 her of his strong, true arm, or grieve her with the story of 
 an unloved, bleeding heart. Perhaps I should conquer it. 
 My triumph would be one among the silent victories 
 unwritten upon any record of earth. But oh, when tablets 
 of the Infinite shall be brought into view, then will every 
 leaf upon which the sacrifice that cost us most be unfolded. 
 I should accept patiently my doom of loneliness ; not even 
 to my sister-friend would I tell what was in my thought 
 then. Farewell bright dream, thou hadst been set among 
 *' stars that shine and fall," withered now like the smallest 
 " flowers that drooped in springing." Again farewell, for 
 all of earth and mortal time ! As I speak the words, I hear 
 their dim echoes resounding through all thy vLstas, hollow, 
 soulless world, and pealing through dim, unlighted vaults 
 of the Eternal. 
 
 I thought of my golden river flowing only in the past, 
 and the solitary ship out upon a broad, deep sea ; but now, 
 the bark was not Stanley's ; another heart and life were in 
 it, yet it drifted on and on, never resting, no anchor cast, no 
 beacon burning on the further shore. Oh, that the winds 
 which drove the tides should be gathered together for a 
 
THE MONT AN AS. 145 
 
 little season of respite, in the hollow of one mighty hand, the 
 same Father hand which held the threads in the compli- 
 cated web that in one short year had been woven about us 
 all so strangely. 
 
 Stanley came to me on the following morning, saying she 
 had just heard from Raymond. He had entered the house 
 of Mr. Kingswell as book-keeper, and designed remaining in 
 Wa3'bum. He would be married in a few weeks, and wished 
 us to come on immediately. 
 
 " He will take no refusal, Jennie," she added ; " you must 
 go. / cannot go there I Anywhere else. I shall not see 
 Ray married, though I would love to do so." 
 
 " I think he cannot reasonably expect either of us. Aunt 
 Edith is so ill, and " She interrupted me. 
 
 " Mamma is no worse than she has been for months, Jen- 
 nie. Miss Phoebe is with her night and day ; Hawsey too 
 is there ; what can be done will be done without your 
 assistance ; that is why I ask you to go ; some of us must ; 
 I cannot." 
 
 After all, thought I, it would be a change ; that was what 
 I most needed ; my streng-th was fast giving way. At 
 times my resolution almost failed me ; I should go because 
 it would be very hard if no one from Claremont should 
 witness the marriage of our only brother and son. 
 
 I went quietly from room to room assisting and directing 
 Hawsey, who was making necessary preparations for my 
 departure. The mother's sad eyes followed me ; there was 
 a wistful tenderness in their depths. I knew she was think- 
 ing she might never see Raymond's bride ; yet she possessed 
 a strange unaccountable conviction that her boy had chosen 
 wisely and would be happy. She had known the father of 
 Mary Kingswell. Miss Phcebe's burnished needles ap- 
 peared likewise to have caught something of inspiration 
 
 7 
 
146 THE MONTANAS. 
 
 from the prospects of our eldest born, manifest in their acce- 
 lerated motion. 
 
 Just one year from the time we first left Claremont — 
 with its peaceful groves and broad expanses of sky and sea 
 stretching far away — we took passage on a boat for Louis- 
 ville, en route for Wayburn. We found things much as 
 usual. Uncle Montana and myself, when we arrived. There 
 was the same brisk atmosphere, the same white spires and 
 New Hampshire hillsides — the same neat pavement lead- 
 ing up to the gTcat square house, with its terraced grounds 
 and ivy-wreathed columns ; the Ridgely flowers and sun- 
 shine too were there as I remembered them ; the family 
 group and the home-lights beaming. When we came into 
 their brightness, I felt the old choking anguish giving way 
 and ray heart gi'owing joyous with its influence. 
 
 Uncle Montana was formally introduced to Raymond's 
 biide elect. It was wonderful to witness the magic efi"ect 
 which Mar}''s simple beauty produced upon this staid, seri- 
 ous man of business ; it was, as he himself expressed it, with 
 a flash of the old gallantry which reminded me how I had 
 seen my father kiss the hand of my sainted mother many a 
 time ; it was the very beauty of gentleness, goodness, and 
 purity. We passed systematically as possible through the 
 necessary greetings. Mary claimed uncle's attention for a 
 time ; when I had submitted to being vigorously hugged by 
 that amiable bear Raymond, I ran off" to find Mr. Kings- 
 well. Oh I how I loved him ! There was that in my soul 
 which bowed in reverence at the shrine of his integrity, so 
 lofty yet so blended with humanity that even the lowliest 
 miffht have envied him the attribute. 
 
 " So you are come, Aljean ; we are delighted to welcome 
 you back ; Ridgely sadly missed your presence when you 
 left us, though we never forgot you in our morning or 
 
THE MONTANAS. 1-17 
 
 evening prayer-time ; when the sun was melting into sha- 
 dow, and mists gathering about the far hills you loved so 
 well. Why did not Stanley come ? " 
 
 He looked pained and grieved at iny answer, so I wound 
 my arms around his neck and laid my head against the noble 
 heart that had a kindly sympathetic throb for all humanity. 
 Mrs. Kingswell, having disposed of uncle to their mutual 
 satisfaction, left him to the enjoyment of bath and siesta, 
 and came to join us. I said, as we took her into the circle 
 of our clasped arms : 
 
 "It is strange you find in your life a space that can be 
 filled by any of us who are so unworthy, when you have 
 her, so patient and so good, with yoa always." 
 
 He answered me, his eyes beaming with all that he felt 
 for this good true wife : 
 
 " She is my gift from God, for which I daily, hourly 
 thank him. I undertake no work but she is by my side to 
 do and bear her part ; there is no task too difficult for / 
 
 those hands of hers to assume — no burden of mine too 
 heavy for her heart ; and we have sought to teach our child, 
 our Mary, who will leave us soon, that the end of life is not 
 here ; that this is only a season of daily tasks ; the circle 
 must be travelled — a circle that terminates in another 
 laro;er circle which holds other duties and other worlds in 
 its grand compass ; and so the work of life must go on ; the 
 strong must help the weak ; those who do most are those 
 to whom the power so to do has been given. But of Stan- 
 ley, why did she not come with you, Aljean?" He asked 
 me frankly, and I answered him in the same spirit. 
 
 " Aunt Edith was not well ; in truth she is very poorly, 
 and then Stanley has had a hard trial recently. Cousin 
 Warren, you know" — I could not say deceived her ; I could 
 not feel it thus, with all the evidence against him. 
 
148 THE MONTAXAS. 
 
 "Ah ! yes^ I understand ; his marriage was purely a mer- 
 cenary affair; I cannot tell what else could have influenced 
 Hayne to sacrifice his happiness to this base end ; though 
 he told me once, Stanley had trifled with him ! Averred 
 that he only made the charge in justification of his appa- 
 rently capricious conduct, which nothing could explain so 
 well as her own written words. I thought he misjudged her, 
 though he half succeeded in making the impression that he 
 had been injured : whether he was suffering from pique 
 that his truant game at hearts- for once had failed — he had 
 lost and she had won, though he held the stakes." 
 
 " Warren deceived you ! " I answered, vehemently ; " I 
 should like to tell him so ; she it was who staked all, and 
 lost ; though, if I meet him, I will play the game to its 
 close. lie is conscious of having won that child's heart, 
 and trampled its holiest feelings into the dust ; but no one 
 shall know this. Stanley will marry Clyde Ingram ! And 
 thus securely pin before the eyes of a discerning world the 
 veil that he has dropped there in his wilful pleasure." 
 
 Mrs. Kingswell put up her hand with a quick gesture, as 
 if to ward off an impending blow. I saw I had surprised 
 and wounded them both, though I had only spoken truth. 
 With-out knowing just how to make amends, I withdrew 
 from their kind clasp, and went out to seek Mary and Ray- 
 mond. I found them sittino^ under the shadow of a dark 
 fir, he twisting a cluster of wegelia into her brown hair. I 
 kissed my finger-tips and passed them by, for I was think- 
 inor how treacherous hands had woven orangre blossoms for 
 Stanley's wealth of golden hair, and set them adrift ; and 
 how they withered where the fountain dropped its liquid 
 spray — murmuring ever ; and the great universe whirled 
 its round as though they yet were fragrant, and her white 
 brow wore not a crown of thorns instead. 
 
THE MONTANAS. 149 
 
 Uncle Montana saw me from Lis window, and came forth 
 refreshed to join me, offering his arm, which I accepted. 
 
 "It is dehghtful, here," he remarked; "seeing those 
 happy children, Jennie, reminds me of the time when 
 your father and mother were married." I led him gently 
 along the hillside-path to the cemetery, till we came and 
 stood by the graves of long ago. There were two grey 
 stones — lichen-crusted and bowing — bearino; each the name 
 of Montana. At the feet of these, a plain, white marble- 
 slab was erected more recently. We stood silently beneath a 
 gilead tree, while the long grass whispered how peaceful had 
 been their sleep ; then he spoke so sorrowfully, his words 
 cutting through my heart like a knife : 
 
 " I would give anything I possess, Jennie, if I had not 
 suffered myself to lose sight of my brother and his young 
 bride. I never saw them after I left home, first. It *s the 
 way of the world to grow so busy, we forget or eschew our 
 heart duties ; one by one we allow our old associates to 
 drop from the circle we run — too much preoccupied, or too 
 careless to retain them, until at my time of life, when we 
 have come to a smooth place in the journey, and have leisure 
 to look about us — we discover ourselves standino; almost 
 entirely alone, as when we first began the march. Then we 
 miss what we have recklessly cast aside — what has drifted 
 from us as the hurrying tide swept by. Oh ! this constant 
 struggle for wealth is a cruel thing ; it rifles life of so much ; 
 even home-ties grow irksome amid its feverish toils." 
 
 " I presume, uncle, that no human being goes through 
 life without some regTets clinging to him — sorrow for the 
 lost, the treasured things- he would have liked to keep. 
 But you have been so kind to me, so considerate in supply- 
 ing every want of my father's orphan child — you have spared 
 no pains to make those you love comfortable and happy." 
 
1 5 THE MOXTANA S. 
 
 " And yet, outside of my own household, I have none to 
 love me; I have done no deed of kindness to suflfering hu- 
 manity — thus writing my name upon hearts in which the 
 hard strife with life would, at least, have left room for gra- 
 titude. I have toiled ; but, oh ! how selfishly. What I see 
 and know of this man has put my poor abortive schemes, 
 to sorry shame ! I look back upon my life to the structure 
 I have erected; it was the work of years, yet it totters 
 now upon the verge of ruin — will soon be broken into frag- 
 ments — leaving me in return only the crushing burden of a 
 miserable failure. Ah ! better that quiet, unhonored sleep, 
 than all this strife and tumult through years, to so little 
 purpose." 
 
 " Uncle, your words stiike a tender string very keenly ; 
 they grieve me ; we never become acquainted with life, at 
 least ^ith its joys, until they are ready to leave us. The 
 bubble has burst, and we relapse into ages of silence again." 
 
 '' Even you, Jennie, and my own children, seem to fear me 
 sometimes," continued my uncle, speaking as though my 
 words had left no trace upon the thoughts which welled up 
 within him. "I saw you embrace Mr. Kingswell as you 
 never embraced me ; is it that you love me less than this 
 stranger, my child ? " My arms were around his neck in 
 an instant ! At last I knew my uncle ; the crusty covering 
 had fallen off and his heart lay bare to my view ; just as he 
 himself had found it, after ha^dng stilled its longings, put 
 aside its requisitions for years. As you will find yours, 
 man of business, some sudden day ; the little frail thinor 
 will ultimately grow too strong for you — it will rebound 
 from the hard heel of your world service. It is God's 
 voice speaking, and will be heard ! The divine voice of 
 love which is eternal. 
 
 " It is because Mr. Kingswell loves to have us caress him ; 
 
THE MONTANAS. 151 
 
 lie is never too busy for this process ; thougli we love you, 
 my dear uncle, just as dearly as if vs^e had taken the liberty 
 of manifestino- that love." 
 
 o 
 
 '' I see it all. I have made a cruel mistake ; but it will 
 be so no more ; by these graves, I make a resolution to 
 have it otherwise." 
 
 Mr. Ivingswell summoned us to tea. When we came 
 up the walk Ray and Mary joined us. It was a pleasant 
 gathering round the cheerful board that evening, barring the 
 shade on Mrs. Kingswell's brow, caused by what I had told 
 her concerning Stanley's intention to marry Clyde. Tliey 
 loved their adopted nephew, and the prospect of an unloving 
 wife for him was like gall to their spirits. 
 
 After tea we took our places on the piazza, as we were 
 wont to do in the previous summer, talking of many things ; 
 while the moon rose up, wrapping its silvery tissues around 
 the form of her who , on the morrow would be a bride, as 
 she walked the terrace with Raymond at her side. I thought 
 of another bride in her stately home, wondering if her younir 
 husband was as happy as we hoped Ray would be. Then 
 again I thought of the fair, childish head, with its sleepless 
 eyes watching the silver track of moonlight as it rested on a 
 lonely pillow. I knew she was musing of us. Oh ! why 
 were some wreaths made to be blighted ? and some blos- 
 somed into life, never displaced or withered ? Last of all I 
 thought of another, whose dai'k eyes seemed alwavs seekino- 
 something through mist and space, thinking — thinking — 
 Ah ! nobody knew, for he never told us ; a cruel silence 
 sat evermore upon his lips. A chain of silence linking two 
 lives, yet a barrier driving them apart. 
 
152 THE MONT ANAS. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 " But happy they — the happiest of their kind, 
 "Whom gentle stars unite, and in one fate 
 Their hearts, their fortunes, and their beings blend." 
 
 Even an event, great, solemn, and mysterious almost as 
 death, could not break the routine of duty and hahit in this 
 orderly household. Save a few extra preparations in the 
 culinary department, and a few extra flowers in the several 
 vases, the travelling trunk packed and strapped standing on 
 the piazza, there was little change apparent ; one might 
 have thought it an everyday occurrence to have a bride 
 leave home. 
 
 It was wonderful to see how the gentle mother bore up 
 and spoke cheering words to Mary, who more than once 
 broke dowai in the perfonnance of some little duty for the 
 household, or as fresh tokens of her parent's kindness came 
 to her. To those who weigh and estimate it as they should, 
 marriage is scarcely less solemn than death ; it is putting 
 off life, with its accustomed forms and usages, for the 
 assumption of new duties ; an exchange of the certain for 
 the uncertain, parting with idols of childhood for a promise 
 of love and care that are richer, more treasured. 
 
 It was not for long, however, that the faintest misgiving 
 clouded the sweet face of Mary ; when Ray, bright and 
 handsome and cheerful, came down, the mists all cleared 
 away ; she ever had for him a greeting full of trustful 
 affection. Once, I remember, as we threaded the terrace 
 walks, he stooped to touch a sensitive-plant, saying to her 
 mother as he did so — " This is like Mary." 
 
 " I am almost broken-hearted when I think that Ridgley 
 will be her home no more," the mother said, with quivering 
 lip ; " when next she comes here it will be as a visitor." 
 
THE MONTANAS. 153 
 
 It was hard ; many a mother's heart has known a similar 
 trial ; the sun-beam that so brightened home scenes ; the 
 flower whose fragrance was emitted with every dawn till 
 close of day, gone to lend their sweetness to another love- 
 liest. In the old home there is only a vacant chamber ; 
 footprints lingering in the accustomed ways, marked less and 
 less frequently by the little feet the mother has so tended 
 in childhood, the presence fading from her view ; the chair 
 of age untended — this is what marriage is. Duties multi- 
 ply in the new sphere of action, and the young bride will 
 learn gradually to do without those whose care was once 
 her greatest happiness. 
 
 Raymond and ^lary were to live at Wayburn ; thus to 
 parents and child there came no pain of prolonged separa- 
 tion. Very brio-ht and beautiful was the weddino^-dav. 
 I was amused, when, in answer to the customary question 
 of the minister, " Do you take this woman?" (fcc, Ray's 
 clear, " I do," was articulated with such firm heartiness. I 
 observed the smile go round ; though it faded silently from 
 lips that trembled slightly when they saw the father come 
 to kiss his child. He could not speak the words he had 
 meant to, only pressed her to his heart and left the room, 
 weeping. Oh ! what a brave, loving Keart, was his ; and 
 how tenderly it had held and sheltered her in its depths for 
 eighteen years. Mary had been a good gii-l, always dutiful ; 
 and the feeling between them appeared almost lover-like in 
 its delicate manifestations of fondness for each other. 
 
 The mother never once lost her self-possession during the 
 ordeal ; yet in the silence of her ovm apartment, when the 
 guests were departed, and we far on our way to a distant 
 city, I thought of her, knowing that she was weeping and 
 praying for her child. 
 
 Uncle Montana, being in haste to return to Claremont, 
 
 7* 
 
154 THE MONTANAS. 
 
 left us at New York. I remained to see the vounir l»us- 
 band and wife safely ensconced within their new home. 
 We spent several weeks delightfully at the Metropolitan. 
 Among numerous cards of invitation came one from War- 
 ren Hayne, which we neither acknowledged nor accepted. 
 They seemed to anticipate such a reception of their cour- 
 tesy, for, Avaiving ceremony, they called at our hotel. Ray- 
 mond, his wife, and myself, were in our private parlor when 
 our unwelcome visitors sent up their cards. We consulted 
 about the matter, deciding that it was best, for Stanley's 
 sake, to exhibit no pique in consideration of his treatment 
 of her ; therefore, the servant received instructions to show 
 them up : accordingly they came. 
 
 Mrs. Hayne, with her blonde hair, blonde face, blonde 
 eyes, and bland, insinuating manner, bestowed much con- 
 descending courtesy upon his beautiful bride, though she 
 greeted Raymond with haughty formality. I, in my dress- 
 ing-room adjoining, heard Warren's full, rich tones, in con- 
 versation ; they always thrilled me strangely, despite my 
 better judgment. Now he inquired in accents of well 
 affected indifference for the family at Claremont ; he was 
 not aware, it was evident, that Stanley had remained at 
 home ; for when I appeared, in answer to his wife's express- 
 ed wish to see also the young ladies — the Misses Montana — I 
 observed that her dutiful husband kept strict surveillance 
 over the door through which I emerged, doubtless expect- 
 ing her to appear. 
 
 " She did not come," I remarked, maliciously, in response 
 to his frequent glance, my lips writhing half in amusement, 
 half in scorn. For answer, he fixed upon me his large, 
 brown, eyes, in such reproachful sternness, I absolutely 
 quailed beneath their searching pride. Why did this man's 
 spirit thus ever vaunt its power over me ? When I raised 
 
THE MONTANAS. 155 
 
 my eyes, there was sometliing in his face of agony endured, 
 and a look that seemed to say through mine he would read 
 her soul, and know why matters were as they were. 
 
 Singular ; for months previous to this anticipated meet- 
 ing with Warren Hayne, I had arranged and rehearsed the 
 amiable speeches with which I meant to lacerate his feel- 
 ings. Now, why died the words unspoken on my lips ? 
 It was because in his one stern glance, I read a story of 
 strife and victory, a spirit loftily poised, resting from the 
 untold struggle. He rose naturally and offered me his arm ; 
 I accepted it mechanically : and again I found myself 
 walking with my cousin the long corridor, my hand held 
 fast as he was used to hold it, in other days scarce one 
 year past. I wondered why he asked me no questions con- 
 cerning Stanley ; but he only talked in his usual courteous 
 manner of things that were and things that had been; 
 never once touching upon what was in my mind a constant 
 thought. I did fiot then know man-nature as I have 
 learned it since, or I should have accepted this avoidance 
 of facts as the strongest possible evidence that he, too, was 
 thinking of her, and the other time — gone ; in affaires de 
 C(xurj the thing of which men think most they speak least. 
 Other motives may have mfluenced his silence on this 
 special topic. 
 
 He told me it was his earnest vdsh to have the pleasure 
 of our exclusive entertainment for one evening at least, 
 during our stay in the great metropolis. He would arrange 
 it so that the entertainment should not interfere in the 
 slightest with our previous engagements. He had pre- 
 viously spoken to Raymond and Mary, who submitted the 
 matter to me. There was nothing left for me but an un- 
 conditional assent, which I gave. 
 
 We returned to the parlor. I sank upon a sofa in a 
 
156 TEE MONTANAS. 
 
 maze of strange reflections ; I could scarcely realize the 
 occurrences of that afternoon, even when I saw cousin 
 Warren standing at a distant window, one hand resting care- 
 lessly on Raymond's shoulder, while with the other he held 
 that of the young bride, to whom he talked gaily. I saw his 
 well formed Grecian lips relaxing into smiles ; I heard his 
 deep familiar accents, but I could not distinguish the words 
 he uttered, for my golden river again was flowing — flowing 
 somewhere. I sat listening to the liquid music of its 
 TN-aves — perhaps the sound came up from the past, during 
 this little ebb of time — I know not. I was unconscious of 
 all things, save that I was dreaming impossible dreams — 
 impossible of realization in this world, for their season had 
 gone by. 
 
 Cousin Warren said, in his blandest, most insinuating 
 tones, preparatory to their leave-taking : 
 
 " We have set Thursday evening for our party, Jennie ; 
 you will come — come early." We promised; at the ap- 
 pointed time we went. 
 
 Once in that stately home, with its lights and music and 
 summer flowers, I could dimly realize the temptation which 
 had beset Warren to secure Miss Strawbridge's fortune — 
 with herself of course — after his accidental discovery that 
 Claremont was a possession of Clyde Ingram's. Everything 
 was in magnificent keeping ; grandeur was apparent in the 
 minutest details ; every arrangement was perfect, from the 
 eleo-ant dressing-room, into which we were conducted by a 
 neatly attired maid who gave the finishing touch to our 
 elaborate toilets, to the supper-room in w^hich was sensed a 
 repast fitting for the most fastidious palate. Warren did 
 the honors with his accustomed ease of manner, while Mrs. 
 Hayne presided chosen goddess of the coflee-urn, in a man- 
 ner which so entirely won my heart, I almost forgave her 
 
THE MONTANAS. 157 
 
 for having a blue ribbon twisted with ber blonde hair, 
 after the fashion in which Stanley was accustomed to weave 
 it with those golden curls of hers. The wine was so fra- 
 grant we imagined it must have been distilled from roses. 
 I think if I had not been fortified with a second glass of 
 deUcious Rhine, I should never have found courage to speak 
 to Cousin Warren as I did that night. 
 
 We had returned to the drawing-room ; guest after guest 
 came pouring in — the tinted waves of fashion. I had 
 passed through an ordeal of such frequent introduction to 
 people for whom I cared not a farthing — whom perhaps I 
 should never meet again — I was very weary ; some way, 
 the gay voices and sounds oppressed me. I was stealing 
 off to the dressing-room — skipping lightly up the stairs to 
 the music of a well timed varsovienne, when Cousin Warren 
 called out : " Come back, truant ! " at the same time, circling 
 my waist with his coat sleeve, he drew me forcibly into the 
 dancing apartment. Notwithstanding my protestations, he 
 led me to a position. It was during one of the pauses in 
 the figure that he remarked, somewhat sadly : " Although 
 they were accustomed to have dancing parties every week, 
 he had not danced once since we were at Nahant the pre- 
 vious summer." I waited to give him the opportunity to 
 speak again before I said my say ; but he did not. 
 
 " Ah ! what a delightful season we had there ! our 
 promenades on those long, cool verandas overlooking the 
 sea, all-mighty and vast, with the sweet moon shining on 
 its troubled waves." 
 
 He changed his position slightly, put his hand into the 
 breast of his coat ; I felt his fingers tremble slightly against 
 my own, which rested in the circle of his left arm ; but ho 
 did not look at me as I went talking on : 
 
 " Cousin Warren, there is a picture in my heart to-night ; 
 
158 THE MONTANAS. 
 
 two figures standing on that long piazza overlooking tlie 
 sea — the moonlight blends their shadows in its silver fall 
 One had played a part until his heart and soul were sick; 
 I see him take the hands of that beautiful girl in his own, 
 exclaiming : ' 'tis time this mockery should cease.' Trust- 
 ing, she gave him her heart; but the mockery was only 
 then begun. The picture fades as it has done before ; 
 other figures come between ; in difierent lands, upon sepa- 
 rate stages, I have seen each play a part since then. They 
 do well. This last scene in the melodrama is rendered 
 with special effect; I am enjoying it immensely. Ah! the 
 false has mocked the true, stealing its semblance the long 
 way through — wearing its regal hue ; she has spoken, yet 
 no word from you." 
 
 His face was very pale, and the lines about his handsome 
 lips were drawn tightly. It seemed impossible for Warren, 
 usually so easy of speech, to S3'llable one word of the many 
 that were craving utterance from his "heart of hearts." 
 At length he said, hoarsely : " You are right ! the mockery 
 was only then begun ; now it must go on ; I presume it 
 will last as long as life ; she has willed it, so let it be. How 
 is she, and why did she not come ? The sight of her could 
 not unman me now ; I have lost the hope of that time. 
 This later phase of hfe upon which you comment so^ bitterly 
 has Httle connexion with the trial which preceded my 
 adoption of what doubtless seems to you a strange course. 
 Though through all I am conscious of having presented my 
 integrity of heart." This was said with a proud loftiness 
 which, under the circumstances, could scarcely have been 
 equalled ; though his accustomed blandness came into the 
 tones in which he added : " Will you be kind enough to 
 answer my questions concerning Miss Montana ? " 
 
 If I had not believed he was feigning, I should have 
 
THE MONTANAS. 159 
 
 driven the shaft less keenly than I did ; as it wa^I was 
 merciless. 
 
 " 'Tis easy to talk of ' integrity of heart ! ' Comino- 
 from you, it goes very far towards making up the sum-total 
 of a lifetime mockery ; however, let us speak of this no 
 more. Stanley is well and looking charmingly. She 
 would have come North this season, only we could not 
 both leave Aunt Edith, who is quite ill. I came on with 
 uncle ; Stanley remained at home with Miss Phoebe and 
 Mr. Ingram in charge of her mother." He turned upon 
 me, a glance of angry inquiry flashing in his eye ; I an- 
 swered his thought as upon the occasion of our first meet- 
 ing in New York. - 
 
 " Yes ; she will be Clyde Ingram's bride this coming 
 autumn." The fingers seemed clutching at something that 
 must have pressed upon his heart. Music again — brilliant, 
 thrilling ; through the mazes of the Lancers he passed as 
 though trampling some imaginary substance underneath 
 his feet ; yet his manner was so proudly calm and cour- 
 teous none would have guessed how in his heart there 
 was an inner tempest raging. 
 
 The quadrille ended, Warren led me to a seat ; then, in 
 a voice which betrayed no excitement whatever, he spoke 
 very indifferently, I thought heartlessly, of the persons 
 about us. New York as a residence, and many other things 
 which were far from our thoughts or feelings then, only he 
 twitched my sandalwood fan nervously. I glanced at my 
 watch — the evening was well-nigh spent. I went in search 
 of Rajmiond, who sat with his bride in the drawing-room, 
 listening to the recital of some old Mend who sat in an 
 easy chair, his face towards their sofa, his back towards 
 the door. Judge of my surprise on coming over to them 
 at being brought tete-a-tete with Mr. Milverton, our mirth- 
 
160 THE MONTANAS. 
 
 fill spirit of Nahant, Stanley's friend, our joint admirer. 
 He sprang up with sudden alacrity, seizing my hand, asked 
 a dozen questions in the same breath concerning my health 
 and happiness ; again of Stanley, whom he knew, and of 
 her family, whom he did not, saving Raymond, Clyde, and 
 myself. Said he had nothing earthly to do, at once pro- 
 posed to accompany me home, a suggestion to which I 
 readily assented, though I told him I feared he would find 
 it very dull, the family were at Brightland; I should go 
 there on my return ; his sojourn with us would be quite a 
 contrast to his life here in the great caravansary. 
 
 He answered me that nothing: would delicrht him more : 
 he was tired of this locality, and deemed a change of cli- 
 mate, even at that season, a saving ordinance from death of 
 ennui, 
 
 " I am sure I shall revive the very instant I come within 
 the sphere of Miss Montana's presence. She has more 
 than once saved me from premature death by one of those 
 dazzling smiles of hers. You used to feel the force of 
 them, eh, Hayne ? By St. Patrick, I once thought all the 
 powers of earth could not have dispelled the illusion which 
 bound you a willing captive to her side. How is it, old 
 fellow? Confess now, or I shall deem you already in the 
 leading-strings — afraid to own a former capture. How is 
 it, ha?" 
 
 Warren had followed me and taken his place amid our 
 group in the drawing-room. Thus appealed to, he as- 
 sumed a tone of careless badinage in his answer. 
 
 "No one is more willino- than I to acknowledofe Miss 
 Montana's superior fascinations, though I cannot agree 
 with you in pronouncing her smiles a 'saving ordinance.' 
 I have reason to think they are calculated to blight rather 
 than exalt mankind.'''' The blood rushed over my face at 
 
THE MONT AN AS. 161 
 
 the conclusion of his unjust speech. Raymond's eyes 
 flashed indignant fire ! A gentle hand was laid upon his 
 ai-m — the defiant spirit was rebuked. I should have spo- 
 ken to Warren when he offered me his arm a moment 
 after, but in his face there was the same reproachful look 
 of fixed sternness that had hushed my clamoring heart 
 more than once before ; now his hand tightly clasped my 
 fingers as we promenaded the drawing-room. He said at 
 length : 
 
 " You think me harsh and severe, Jennie ; I know wo- 
 men have an idea there are some things which men should 
 bear without a sign or sigh of complaint. I have borne a 
 great deal, but you have tried me to-night almost beyond 
 endurance. You and Stanley play good hands at your 
 double game ! She won my love only to cast it aside as a 
 worthless bauble. Not content with this, she has com- 
 missioned you, who are doubtless party to the transaction, 
 to probe the wound and decide if it is deep enough to 
 prove fatal. Yes, I feel assured this has been your^chief 
 mission to New York. You may say to your fair instruc- 
 tress, it does not abash me to admit that the wound is sore 
 and bleeding still. I should not hesitate to tell her this if 
 she had come. The thing which I most regret is that I 
 did not do so in the beginning. I should have heard my 
 sentence from her lips alone ; instead, I listened to the 
 voice of pride, donned this armor of reserve and indifference, 
 hoping by such means to conceal from the world and from 
 her what she had made me suffer." 
 
 I opened my eyes wide with astonishment ! I actually 
 for the moment thought Warren demented to talk as he 
 did about the wounds that she had made. Then I remem- 
 bered how, in that one letter to Stanley, he had accused her 
 of deceiving him, and of having broken her plighted faith. 
 
162 THE MOKTAKAS. 
 
 We had deemed his words only a subterfuge to free him- 
 self from an engagement which proved less advantageous 
 in a worldly sense than it might once have done. Again, 
 Mr. Kingswell had said Warren told him Stanley's written 
 words were his proof of her falsity to him. A suspicion 
 of foul play came over me like a flash ! though I knew not 
 what I should say or do to detect it without compromising 
 Stanley by the admission of her unchanged afl'ection for 
 Warren. 
 
 " Cousin," I said excitedly, " I am just now too intent 
 on a purpose even to resent your insinuations concerning 
 Stanley and myself — in league against you. There must 
 be treachery somewhere. I think it will eventually be 
 explained to our mutual satisfaction. To aid me in ferret- 
 ing out the apparent cruel designs of some person or per- 
 sons, I request you to send back her letters !" 
 
 ^''Her letters?'''' he answered half contemptuously, pro- 
 found surprise manifest in his tones and manner. — " For 
 four long months after I left Claremont I heard no 
 word from her ! At length, in answer to at least twenty 
 wild appeals, there came from her just one curt brief mis- 
 sive, stating her engagement, requesting very coldly that I 
 should discontinue my portion of the correspondence. In 
 a fit of rage and pique at her duplicity, I resolved that to 
 her, of all the anguish I felt, I would make no sign. In 
 
 the silence thus imposed, I became ah ! well you know 
 
 the rest. I see by your face you deemed her incapable of 
 this. Once I should sooner have doubted all the world be- 
 side. She has since made me a sceptic regarding woman's 
 truth. 1 congratulate Mr. Ingram upon the success of his 
 suit ; he is to be envied, is he not ? " 
 
 " Warren," I exclaimed with some severity, " repeat 
 your innuendoes either to Raymond or Clyde, at fitting time 
 
THE MONT AN AS. 163 
 
 and place. I will assure you they will be responded to as 
 they deserve to be. I shall not resent them, as I said 
 before, because you have indeed been tried more than I 
 had dreamed of. Now give me that note of Stanley's ; I 
 would have the evidence of my own eyes here. 'Tis not 
 that I doubt you, but I have so believed in her I could 
 trust nothing less than this." 
 
 He rose and offered me his arm with stately grace. I 
 believe Warren could have been placed under no circum- 
 stances so complicated or disagreeable that he could have 
 forgotten to deport himself with lofty elegance ; though 
 now the fingers which closed over mine, resting in the cir- 
 cle of his arm, were cold and rigid. He drew me into his 
 private study adjoining the library, where he seated me in 
 his large reading chair, during the process of unlocking a 
 secret drawer in an escritoire, from which he took a note 
 bearing Stanley's superscription and stamp. I knew her 
 letters ; it was easy to detect her stjle, which was uniform; 
 I imagined I could be deceived as readily with regard to 
 my own. The strangest of all was her chirography ! I 
 could have qualified it as hers, in a court of justice. 
 It would have been difficult to counterfeit her peculiar 
 hand. 
 
 My brain was reeling under the force of this blow. I 
 was only conscious that Warren's eyes were upon me. I 
 rallied, therefore, under his tones of cutting irony. 
 
 " I presume you are satisfied ! at least you can doubt 
 no longer the authenticity of letter or date." A bitter 
 reply rose to my lips ! I longed to tell him that I had 
 doubts, but not of her ; that I should not believe the whole 
 world if they in one united voice declared Stanley false. 
 But no, it were better not. I had no right to reveal one 
 tithe of that long, hard struggle through which she had 
 
164 THE }rONTANAS. 
 
 passed. Accordingly I crushed back, in a deep, dark 
 comer of my heart, my suspicions and convictions con- 
 cerning a part some third party must liave played in this 
 drama. I answered him falteringly — 
 
 " The evidence is certainly against her ; until I am bet- 
 ter fortified with strength to refute your charges, I shall not 
 attempt her defence. Do not think of her too harshly, War- 
 ren; remember those golden days at Claremont ; I am sure 
 she has not forgotten them, they were so very bright." 
 He sat with his eyes fixed upon the superscription of her 
 note ; mine wandered far oflT. Shreds of my golden river 
 came through the fissures of craggy rocks that loomed up, 
 almost shutting out the heavens from view. I saw the 
 opal drops sparkling crimson, as ruby — then diamond clear, 
 breaking into gem-like beauty through the tissues of broken 
 dreams. Warren's head rested on his left hand, while his 
 right, within the breast of his coat, seemed clutching at 
 some weight that was pressing on his heart. 
 
 We were each awakened from our painful reverie by the 
 sound of an unwelcome voice which broke upon us very 
 harshly, with a vivacity that was anything but pleasing. 
 We raised our eyes to see — a blonde face, transfixed in green- 
 hued wonder and indio^nation. 
 
 " I am astonished to find you here, Miss Montana ! 
 Your brother has been seeking for you everywhere else. 
 Mr. Hayne, you must have forgotten your duty and obliga- 
 tion as host in my house. You have chosen to absent 
 yourself during the entire evening — almost. Now many of 
 our departing guests await the opportunity and privilege 
 • of paying their respects to you. Will you come, sir, or 
 shall I excuse you on the ground of this monopoly ? " 
 
 She said this with a withering glance in my direction. 
 It did not reach me, however ; I was thinking of other 
 
THE MONTANA S. 165 
 
 things ttan ter reproach, as I recalled and reviewed the 
 wide, wide space that lay between those two — a difference 
 uncancelled by pride of position ! a difference which was 
 God-created ; neither years nor fate could abridge it, even 
 though they were husband and wife. He felt it, too, just 
 then, very keenly; I saw how the knowledge galled him; 
 I hoped he Avould not resent her insult to me. I cared no- 
 thing at all about it — but he did. 
 
 " Perhaps, madam, you, who in i/our own house never \sLck 
 courtesy towards any one of your guests — even those who are 
 my relatives — might as well have extended your preroga- 
 tive and denied your guests the privilege of dispensing 
 adieus to their nominal host. You can do so still if you 
 like ; at all events, suffer them to await my pleasure." 
 She rustled her indignant flounces as she left us. Warren 
 again gave me his arm. I thought, oh ! for one tiny ray 
 of the sweet love life he and Stanley had lived to lighten 
 the dark domestic atmosphere within this stately home. 
 Oh ! for just one atom of pure gold amid all the dross sur- 
 rounding my cousin ! Where should it be found ? A voice 
 within answered, far down in the deeps of that true, manly 
 heart, whose strings were held by one little hand which he 
 would never be permitted to press or fondle again. How 
 trustingly it had once nestled within his own ! I wonder 
 if he was not thinking of it when those coarse, harsh 
 tones broke upon his ear ? If so, the recollection had 
 melted somewhat the resentment within him ; for as he 
 spoke the fitting farewell to each departing guest, his tones 
 were lower, richer, and seemed far off, like the sound of 
 my golden waves. When we three took our leave, I saw 
 upon his face the same absent expression, and he pressed 
 my hand as though it might have been hers. We left him 
 standing silently, moodily, on the pavement, within the 
 
166 THE MONTAKAS. 
 
 shadow of his wife's stately mansion, his form so still in its 
 faultless outline. I was thinking of him as we went whirl- 
 ing through the lighted streets, until our coachman let down 
 the carriage steps at the Metropolitan. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 "The highest hills are miles below the sky— 
 And so far is the lightest heart below 
 True happiness." 
 
 I WAS out when Warren called on the following morning ; 
 in the evening he came again, and while I was adding the 
 finishing touch to my toilet, I could hear him as he walked 
 the long corridor below with calm, finn tread, just as he 
 was wont to do in the pleasant summer time gone by. 
 Now he was gayer than I had seen him for a long time. 
 There was in his manner no trace of the deep emotion 
 manifest on former occasions. It was only the polished 
 man of the world who greeted me, speaking with careless 
 indifference, as though he would ignore the fact that he had 
 ever been other than this. I was surprised and wounded 
 at his levity, and thus expressed myself ; I shall never for- 
 get his answer : 
 
 " Fortunately, or unfortunately, as you perhaps esteem 
 the fact, we men have too much to do of life's busy work — 
 too constant a strife with the world and its strong necessi- 
 ties, to permit ourselves to grow habitually depressed. In 
 the long, weary march from cradle to grave there are so 
 many customs that not only wither the sweetest flowers 
 but set an iron heel upon any impulse of generous emotion. 
 
THE MONTANAS. 167 
 
 That stem dictator, duty, would make galley slaves of us 
 all — even the most determinedly rebellious ; reducing kings 
 to the condition of serfs and minions. A tiny hand holds 
 the feather that turns the scale of destiny ; and from a sweet, 
 sunlit way, where the brightest flowers lie, 'tis often but one 
 step to deserts of darkness and misery.' We mourn the 
 departed glory, but soon learn to trim our torches and 
 smile while we do the work of life in an artificial radiance — 
 enduring calmly, hopefully, philosophically, all that we 
 must. We cannot always suffer — the time so to do is not 
 given us. I like Owen Meredith's definition of life : 
 
 " ' Honest love — honest sorrow, 
 Honest work for the day, 
 Honest hope for the morrow.' 
 
 " I really like this aspect of the thing ; there is a bravery 
 in it which but few people realize. As regards the sorrow, 
 that is an attribute that is real and wears no false hue, 
 though as regards honest love — ah ! there is little of that in 
 this weary world." 
 
 It almost broke my heart to hear Cousin Warren talk in 
 this strain. Oh ! how I longed to look him in the eyes — 
 to fix his conviction of what I uttered, and tell him there 
 was at least one honest love in the Universe, stedfast and 
 true as the sun, and how that loving one had sorrowed for 
 this broken troth, as even he had not done — but I dared 
 not. Oh, of all the idle words spoken, if I might have 
 claimed just one little syllable with which to convey an 
 intelligence of these things, it might have appeased the 
 anguish in my heart — but it must not be! Loving as 
 they two did, each knowing that the other loved, perhaps 
 the frail barrier had melted away ; then they, standing face 
 to face, man and woman, might have spoken as they did at 
 
168 THE MONT AN AS. 
 
 Nahant. Could they have borne the heavy cross being 
 aware of this most harrowing truth ? I fear not. 
 
 As these thoughts flitted through my mind I sat care- 
 lessly toying with a little fillet of white and blue, a purchase 
 I had made for Stanley. Warren regarded me so earnestly, 
 I could not but feel that his tone and manner in the pre- 
 vious conversation were assumed. 
 
 " That is hers," he said at length. I looked at him with 
 some surprise, answering in the affirmative. Then he went 
 on to say : 
 
 " Tliere is a peculiar atmosphere about everything that 
 pertains to her. Even the most commonplace articles 
 adapt themselves to her w^earing, assuming this peculiar 
 personality the moment they are purchased. I have a 
 little gift here ; it is justly her property, no one else could 
 ever wear them. Will you give them, for me, into her 
 charge ? " It was a set of pearls : a necklace whose inter- 
 stices seemed a glitter of frost-work, l)rooch and pendants 
 of rarest style and finish. I took the shining bauble into 
 my hand, letting the string slip through my fingers like 
 cluster drops of falling water, saying as I did so : 
 
 " Warren, you very well know that, even under other cir- 
 cumstances, Stanley would scarcely accept these ; now, she 
 would be very far from doing so." 
 
 " I can see the drift of your fancy, Jennie," he answered 
 quietly, though proudly, in a subdued tone of poignant suf- 
 fering. "They are not my w^ife's, and can never be hers; 
 they are no part of that contract, thank Heaven — they are 
 Stanley's. All the romance and brightness of my life are 
 entwined with them, and they must be hers, though she 
 has put from her the beautiful dream and sweet thoughts 
 that were mine, as I worked for them. But she cannot go 
 back into the golden maze of the past, and blot out the time 
 
THE MONTANA S. 169 
 
 when she herself gave me the liberty to think these thoughts 
 of her, and to build the hope of my life upon them. Better 
 try to obliterate the suns that are shining on our childhood, 
 and the stars in the past whose radiance never pales in 
 growing spaces of after years." 
 
 " Warren, would you substitute these for the wreath you 
 wove and left to wither in her own home ? They will be 
 valueless to her now — that has faded." 
 
 " Then lay them at her feet and let her crush them as 
 she crushed the joy out of my life ; only bear them to her, 
 with a request from me that she will wear them on her 
 bridal day. In return I ask of you that little band of white 
 and blue. I want it ; it will help me to learn to forgive 
 her. I feel that I have almost done so already." 
 
 " Warren, you do right to forgive Stanley. Try to think 
 of her gently and kindly, for she too has suffered. Just 
 think what a dreadful thing it is to be suiTounded by an 
 imnsible net of circumstances whose meshes could not be 
 broken ; it was fate ! Stanley was not to blame ! She will 
 live to prove it to you." 
 
 " Jennie, why will you taunt me with these things ? I 
 knew the * circumstances' which influenced her to renounce 
 me as she did. I, though not a poor man,. was not a mil- 
 lionaire ! Clyde Ingram was. Of course, I do not blame 
 her ; the difference was vastly in his favor ; it is the way 
 of the world. Jennie, we must all learn it sooner or later. 
 There is no bitterness in my heart towards her ; only a poig- 
 nant sorrow when I recall all that was and is not, and all 
 that might have been. But enough of this ; it sounds too 
 much like weak repining at a decree that is inevitable ; 
 the mandate is irrevocable, the fiat has gone forth. I shall 
 learn to be happy in the knowledge that she is blessed. 
 And now this is our last conference on this topic. To man, 
 
 8 
 
170 TEE MONTANA S. 
 
 woman or child, saving yourself, I liave never spoken these 
 thoughts ; and never again will I lay this portion of my 
 life bare to any one. It was too bright and beautiful for 
 the actual ; it has drifted into dream-land, there let it rest. 
 Suffice it to say, there is one word which I shall never take 
 upon my lips again — the word love. It is among the sounds 
 that are dead ! Shut in a chamber of my heart that is 
 locked hard ; the key is in your possession ; the walls arc 
 granite ; at the touch of one little hand they would crum- 
 ble into dust ; but that touch will never come, and I must 
 cease to miss and mourn it now ; the season has gone by." 
 
 I stood gazing at him, with a deep pity in my heart, as he 
 looked down towards the youth-land of romance as to a 
 land of promise past. 
 
 He went to his stately, beautiful home, and we to the 
 quiet shades at Ridgeley. It was so pleasant to feel our- 
 selves in this quiet little home-nest once more. To rise at 
 morning with the lark, to see the glorious light breaking 
 into prisms far over the New Hampshire hills, and the mist 
 in the valley gather into purple columns that shone bur- 
 nished with long bars of sunshine which came down through 
 the trees that grew upon the mountain-side, darting golden 
 spars into the very heart of morning to a mellow music that 
 seemed a refrain of wood-nymphs. Then followed a day, a 
 busy day, full of life and work ; the mellow grain fell be- 
 fore adroit sickles, and the harvest-season, with its rich, ripe 
 melody, went gliding by ; the task had been wrought — the 
 reprisal garnered. 
 
 It was amusing during that period to see Milverton in a 
 broad-brimmed hat of oat straw, gathering golden sheaves, 
 humming frag-ments of bacchanalian songs — such as wTeath 
 the bowl, &c. — carrying his air of graceful nonchalance even 
 into the harvest-field. He seemed always happy, living for 
 
THE MONTANAS. 1 7 1 
 
 the most part a surface life of pleasure, yet occasion ally- 
 plunging into a vortex with a hearty will, as though this 
 were all — this little narrow to-day, and there was no to-mor- 
 row, no eternity. I could not avoid laughing at his drol- 
 leries, though he always inspired me mth a sensation as 
 though I was falling from great heights. 
 
 The last evening, the one previous to our departure, 
 came. Ray and Mary were comfortably ensconced in their 
 new home. Mrs. Kingswell had dispensed the means that 
 was the young wife's bridal gift with unusual tact and de- 
 licacy, and furnished their house to the very best advantage. 
 It was a second edition to the home at Eidgley — a minia- 
 ture edition, relieved with a few of the rich tapestries and 
 brocatelles of Claremont ; altoo-ether as snuo- and elegant 
 a nest of love as could be found in the country. 
 
 We were spending the last evening together — sittino-^ as 
 we had often done before, on the broad piazza, in the light 
 and smile of the young moon. True, there were missing 
 ones to whose absence I was growing sadly accustomed 
 of late. I spoke at length, and my words bore the burden of 
 an inquiry made at many partings, yet never answered with 
 the least certainty ; for in that bright to-morrow of our 
 thought may lie the event that may make or mar the rem- 
 nant of existence. Impressed with this mournful truth, I 
 said again : 
 
 " Uncle, life is a sad, hard thing, is it not ?" 
 
 " Young people on first becoming acquainted with the 
 actual facts of existence are ready to vote it so. I wonder, 
 however, how many persons of your age could be brought 
 to endorse your sweeping invectiv^e ?" 
 
 " I know not what would be their verdict, uncle ; but it 
 seems to me, on the verge of constant parting with some 
 one whom I love — a fever of fierce heat — an aimless 
 
1 72 THE MONTANAS. 
 
 warfare of body and soul ! — a swift, sure deatli, and 
 
 then " 
 
 " Ah ! Jennie, what then ? Ask of faith what lies beyond 
 this narrow stream of time — beyond the golden portals that 
 bar eternity from view. Ask of that divine heart which 
 poured its life-blood out, that upon the mortal tides we 
 might be borne from the mazy darks of earth in the light 
 of his great sacrifice, beyond the night of swift, sure death, 
 to a morning of the Infinite, nis love means more and is 
 more than the material compensations which await the per- 
 formance of our daily task. God is in our lives everywhere, 
 my child; he will take us to his great heart when the 
 labor and strife are ended. He will be with you when the 
 sun goes down, as he was when you came into the world. 
 Do not grow weary ; live long in the days of your romance, 
 drink often of those fresh, pure springs. Life is a circle ! Age 
 comes back at last to bathe its dusky, time-worn visage in 
 tbe primitive fountain, and when the race is ended reenters 
 by the same portal through which it first emerged. Keep 
 a spirit untainted by weak repinings, and you will not 
 have far to come when the flesh has grown weary and 
 weak, for the crown of righteousness Christ has promised." 
 " Uncle, you make me feel strong to try, and I will." 
 " That is a brave, good girl, Jennie ; the greater your 
 efi"ort, the more glorious will be your triumph in the end. 
 Remember, * the race to the swift or the battle to the strong' 
 is not given. But to him that overcometh." How lofty 
 shone that glorious spirit from his eyes, as he sat there, 
 moonbeams falling on his silver hair ! Ah ! with a per- 
 petual well-spring of youth in his loving, generous heart, he 
 had conquered life and held its tissues in his venerable 
 hand. How strong his words of encouragement always 
 made me feel — equal to anything ; so I returned home with 
 
THE MONT AN AS. 173 
 
 a silent suffering deep in my heart, tlirough which ran a 
 wish to comfort Stanley and to school myself with looking 
 on her happiness, thus assuming the heavy cross and sacri- 
 fice that must be mine. 
 
 The family, including all the servants save Aunt Dinah, 
 who always kept house in our absence, were at Brightland. 
 The old lady, with her ever ready comfort in the shape of 
 a bountiful meal, entertained us very pleasantly, Milverton 
 and myself, as she did the honors. How delightful we find 
 the little details of home gossip to one returned from long 
 journeying. We enjoyed catechizing Aunt Dinah, espe- 
 cially Milverton ; who, between alternate shces of cold ham 
 and lemon tartlets, asked many questions concerning Stan- 
 ley, who someway constituted his whole conception of our 
 family. 
 
 Once or twice the old lady essayed to adopt our policy, 
 and venture a query concerning " Mars Raymond ; " though 
 this was done with the air of one who feared the answer 
 might contain intelligence that would strike her dumb. 
 
 "«Well and happy, is he ? Lord save us ! Who ever 
 thought, when I was a raisin' dat are bressed boy, it would 
 come to dis. Just think," she added, wiping from her eyes 
 the ever ready tear-drops, " of his being happy away from 
 old Mars, his dear mother. Miss Stanley, and the rest of us ; 
 it's too hard to bear, Aliss Algy." 
 
 " It is the way of life, you know. Aunt Dinah ; sons must 
 go out from their father's home, take their places in the 
 great world, and bear their part of active duty there." 
 
 " Yes ; but jest think o' him, tenderly as he'd ben raised, 
 goin' way up thar to live whar people has to work fur the' 
 livin'. Why didn't he marry that purty young crcetur. 
 Miss Retty, and settle in town." 
 
 A shiver ran through my fi-ame as I thought of Retta 
 
174 THE MONT AX AS. 
 
 Austin in Mary's place — Raymond's wife. The hasty com- 
 parison, while doing no credit to the former, did much 
 honor to the latter. 
 
 " I presume Ray can best answer that question, Aunt 
 Dinah ; and as to his working for a living, we all do that in 
 one sphere or another, unless we are fortunate as Mr. Mil- 
 verton, and have a patrimony handed down to us with no 
 thought or care, but to spend it pleasantly to the best ad- 
 vantage. In that case, one must needs be of a tempera- 
 ment that will exempt us from the endurance of those hard 
 spirit-toils for otbers that accrue in bearing burdens for 
 those we love." 
 
 " Well, God knows best — Christ bore one for us all," an- 
 swered this faithful old bond-woman, solemnly. 
 
 Later in the afternoon, we drove down to the city. Ac- 
 companied by Uncle Montana, we took the train for Bright- 
 land. Horses and carriage awaited us at the station ; after 
 a swift drive of a few minutes only, we came to a -planta- 
 tion, extended for miles, bordering one of the famous 
 swamps so noted in the annals of Mrs. Stowe. SuiTound- 
 ed by thick clumps of pine-trees, stood the white wooden 
 house with long galleries circling around and dissecting the 
 abode at right angles. In front, a long slope of yard with 
 groups of woolly-headed children, playing; this was our 
 home, or rather, Clyde's home. Here, many pleasant days 
 of my childhood had been passed. With a great bound 
 my heart went back to that old time. How natural it 
 seemed that Clyde, who was sole master here, should come 
 down the clay road to meet us, arrayed in an immaculate 
 suit of snowy linen. The breeze strayed lovingly through 
 his brown curls as he lifted gracefully his broad-brimmed 
 Panama in answer to my salutation ; then came forward to 
 shake Milford's hand in the true Southern greeting. How 
 
THE MONTANAS. l75 
 
 mv heart thrilled again when, stepping in front of his guest, 
 he otfered me his arm, leaving Milverton to follow. Pleas- 
 ure beamed from every lineament of his pui'e Grecian face 
 as he exclaimed : 
 
 " I am so glad you are home again, Jennie ; you can 
 never know how we have missed you." 
 
 I answered, vainly endeavoring to still my heart with a 
 gasp : 
 
 " Many thanks, Clyde ; it is kind of you to say so ; I 
 think Stanley must have wanted me ; you would have been 
 cruel not to have sympathized with her. I imagine it was 
 nothing more than this — your desire to see me." I could 
 not tell why it was — the radiance passed from his face, and 
 again, then and there, between us, was inaugurated that 
 cruel silence which so blighted both our lives. I saw the 
 chano-e instantlv, and as usual attributed it to a source 
 entirely foreign to the real cause. I was always wounding 
 Clvde without meanino; to do so. This time I thouo-ht to 
 bring back the glad smile, so I said : " How are Stanley, 
 aunt, and the rest ? " 
 
 " They are much as you left them, thank you," he an- 
 swered, in a hurt, chilled tone. 
 
 I, too, was grieved ; I withdrew my eyes from the sorry 
 face that I loved, to behold coming down the path an appa- 
 rition which I felt to be Stanley ; though I had never seen 
 her when every ray of her glorious beauty seemed so con- 
 centrated. It burst upon me with such force ; the cold, 
 stony look had passed from her eyes ; golden arrows 
 danced and glittered in her sunny hair. I was in her 
 arms — close to her fond, true heart, in an instant. We 
 maintained long that firm clasp, leaving Milverton to him- 
 self, who proceeded to make the acquaintance of every 
 dog and negro on the premises. Clyde stood looking over 
 
1 7 u THE MONTANA S. 
 
 those long, far fields with a dreamy, absent look upon his face 
 with which at Claremont he had been accustomed to watch 
 the waves roll in from a distant sea. Oh ! it was so sweet 
 to have Stanley to myself again. Now that she was in her 
 old place, close to my well tried heart, I felt how much I 
 had really missed her all along. I was strangely happy 
 that evening as I knelt by Aunt Edith's bedside, and wept 
 that I was home again. Miss Phoebe, too, I think, was 
 really glad to have me back ; she actually laid aside her 
 knitting-work, seated me in a large chair, bathed my face, 
 and combed my hair, while I told them about Ray and 
 Mary; the wedding festivities, etc.; and how happy they 
 were in their new home. 
 
 I unguardedly chanced to speak of the Hayne enter- 
 tainment; I saw that Stanley drew her breath in quick 
 gasps, as though a stone lay heavy on her heart. I endea- 
 vored to chano-e the curi'ent of her thoupjhts by referrinsf 
 to the visible improvement in her mother's health ; but 
 she said no word. With a regular motion the comb passed 
 through my hair ; then Miss Phoebe answered : " Mrs. Mon- 
 tana is always better at Brightland ; the atmosphere seems 
 to inviororate her." I soon learned the cause of Stanley's 
 silence, when her mother's health was alluded to ; this im- 
 provement was the purchase of her sacrifice ; yet for the 
 most part she was cheerful, and even assisted in the prepa- 
 rations for the marriage with the greatest alacrity. 
 
 Now came a message from the gentlemen that we should 
 join them, which we did on the grass plat 'neath the 
 arches of tall, dark cedars. Then we had a long, cheerful 
 chat about old times, during which Clyde gave utterance 
 to some caustic and witty things. As for Milverton, he 
 always made it a point to say the greatest number of droll 
 and humorous things. On this occasion he acquitted him- 
 
THE MONTAKAS. l77 
 
 self with unusual honor. Thus we sat after tea until chill 
 dews gathered from the swamps, and the notes of the 
 whippoorwill came m like a requiem. I saw shadows on 
 Stanley's beautiful eyes ere we separated for the night, 
 while in Clyde's manner there was that moody gloom 
 which always cut me to the soul ! Often, in our horseback 
 excursions adown the shadowy road bordering the swamp, 
 he would ride by my side maintaming a silence so audible 
 I could hear the beating of his heart. Then, as by some 
 sudden inspiration, his soul would melt and come into his 
 eyes— hang dazzling there for one brief instant, then sink 
 back like the fall of some sweet song. Oh, if I had only 
 dared to meet that glance which always wandered from 
 my face out into the dim far space ; perhaps even now the 
 shadow on my remnant of life had not lain half so darkly 
 or so inexorably. 
 
 Swiftly the summer days went by until the last were 
 gone— we hngered; ere the autumn rains set in heavy 
 and chill we took Aunt Edith back to Claremont ; only 
 Clyde remained until the cotton was gathered in and he 
 saw his people comfortably settled in their winter quarters ; 
 then Brightland was closed for the season. 
 
 It was pleasant to have Clyde with us again ; he read to 
 us in the evenings; then he and Milverton arranged some 
 private theatricals for our special benefit, in which we took 
 the greatest delight. On one occasion MUverton inveigled 
 that staid, sedate Miss Phoebe to accompany us to "the 
 opera; then absolutely gloated over his triumph for a week 
 to come. Clyde usually spent the day in the city. Mil- 
 verton often accompanied him, though he returned to 
 luncheon, after which he lounged in the south parlor, 
 thrumming the piano or singing an amusing treble with 
 the harp, to the utter disgust of Aunt Dinah and the total 
 
 8* 
 
]78 THE MONTANA S. 
 
 demolition of what little dignity Hawsey had succeeded in 
 collecting during the short respite between pieces. 
 
 He absolutely succeeded in so far coiTupting that young 
 hand-raaiden's morals that she accepted a bribe to famish 
 him the key to an apartment where old-fashioned dresses 
 and bonnets were hung in state. Then actually assisted 
 him w^hile he proceeded to array his somewhat pursy propor- 
 tions in sundry antique habiliments. In this guise he made 
 his appearance at the door of Aunt Edith's sitting-room, 
 where he stood for an instant endeavoring to look Cleopatra ; 
 failing signally, he gathered up his skirts w^ith dainty fin- 
 gers, and bowed himself out, leaving us convulsed with 
 laughter. We were very sorry when Milverton returned to 
 the Xorth, I imadned because he did not wish to see 
 Stanley married. 
 
 There were many things to do now ; Stanley and I 
 usually spent our forenoons shopping for the mantua- 
 makers ; we returned at noon much wearied. Once we 
 were displaying our purchases for the inspection of Aunt 
 Edith and Miss Phoebe ; Clyde came in and stood looking 
 upon the heaps of gossamer and laces with a stern fate in 
 his indifferent face, which, with all my bravery heretofore, 
 I could not bear to look upon. I cast down the baubles, 
 going abruptly to my own apartment, whither Stanley came 
 to seek me, as I had often done her when she left us to 
 struo^orle all alone. 
 
 " I am sick and tired," I said, in answer to her questions ; 
 " very sick and tired, that is all." Oh ! if I had only 
 known what those few impatient words would bring forth 
 I should have died sooner than to have spoken them. The 
 color left her face, white as death — wildly rushing like a 
 torrent long pent up, came her words ; I could only shud- 
 der and be still. 
 
TEE MONTANAS. 1*70 
 
 " Yes, Jennie, I know you are tired of all this moclierv. 
 I am so, too. I should wonder if we were not. I intend 
 this day and horn* to put a stop to it. I do not love Clyde 
 Ingram ; he does not love me. What will be this marriao-e 
 but a bargain and sale, which I am resolved must not, shall 
 not go on. If the cards had gone out, I should recall them. 
 I have chosen my course. I would rather be Clyde's slave 
 than do a noble man the injustice to become his wife with 
 this lie upon my souL No ; as the days go on which bring 
 us nearer to the consummation of this fraud, I feel more 
 and more the \'iolence I should do to him and myself if I 
 failed to retract this promise ; therefore, I shall do so at 
 any risk." It was useless to expostulate ; I knew the feel- 
 ing in her heart, for had I not beheld just such a look of soul- 
 weariness in Warren Hayne's eyes when he took one of the 
 little hands that were clenched hard too;ether now and led 
 her from the gay throng to the stilhiess without. As then, 
 I heard the sighing sea, and it seemed to calm us both. 
 After a long time I ventured to say, in defiance of my re- 
 bellious heart : 
 
 " Stanley, it will kill Aunt Edith to have this cherished 
 project of life fail her at the last." 
 
 " No, no ; you misjudge her. When she knows how I 
 shrink from the fulfilment of this vow, she will say that I 
 am right. I will go to her on my knees, and tell her all. 
 She will forgive me — but " 
 
 " But Clyde ? " I rejoined, hoarsely. 
 
 " Ah ! dear, noble Clyde, if I was sure he was quite 
 happy, the sacrifice of my own feelings I would esteem 
 very lightly ; but he is not — he is wretched. It will be a 
 relief to him to have this bond severed — it has long been 
 irksome." 
 
 I know not how it was, but Stanley made her peace with 
 
ISO THE MONTANAS. 
 
 them all ; and she and Clyde, in their changed relation, 
 took their accustomed places at the tea-table that evening 
 as though things had always been just as they were then. 
 I afterwards learned from Miss Phoebe that Stanley had 
 declared, in presence of her father, her willingness to sell 
 herself, if needs be, for a stranger's gold, but never to Clyde 
 Ingi'am, whom she loved as her brother. Clyde took his 
 departure for Texas on the following morning. He sent 
 back by his driver, from the city, a note to Uncle Montana, 
 consigning Claremont to his charge. 'Twas thus it ended, 
 ere the snow and the winter came ao;ain to Claremont. At 
 breakfast there was only his vacant place. In our home 
 and hearts, for many days and months, there was utter 
 loneliness, for we missed him very sadly. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 •' The atmosphere of home ! how bright 
 
 It floats around us when we sit together, 
 Under a bower of vine in summer weather, 
 Or round a hearth-stone on a winter's night" 
 
 Park Bkn'Jamix. 
 
 Aunt Edith was feeling better as the spring advanced. 
 Affairs at Claremont settled back into their accustomed 
 routine, though from our home-circle we missed Clyde and 
 Raymond — oh ! how much. It seemed so strange, so sad, 
 to have, besides our own, only uncle's face at table ; then in 
 our evening reunions we were so lonely that we welcomed 
 even Lane Austin pleasurably. He became our constant 
 escort on all occasions, and was, in truth, the very beau-ideal 
 of chivalry. 
 
THE MONTANA S. 181 
 
 Thus winter wore away. There was mucli visiting in 
 private circles in the great Southern metropolis ; inter- 
 spersed with the usual amount of heartiness and heartless- 
 ness in the society of New Orleans. Then there was the 
 same cold grey look on the distant sea as its waves came 
 rolling in with groan and sigh ; the same pulseless trance 
 of nature ; the same bird-singing, grass-growing awakening 
 from the spell ere spring in all her gladness burst upon us. 
 Miss Phoebe's counterpane was laid aside, while her busy 
 hands trained vines in the arbor and summer-house, where 
 the boys went to smoke when at home. Beneath her 
 touch, with the assistance of Hawsey, the flower-beds 
 brightened, blushed, and grew fragrant. 
 
 Claremont wore its loveliest hues when we began to think 
 and talk of accepting Raymond's invitation to go North for 
 the summer. We could not go to Brightland for the sum- 
 mer. On account of his business, uncle could not accom- 
 pany us. Clyde, who usually spent his summers with us 
 on the plantation, was absent — we knew not for how long. 
 There remained for us no alternative ; so biinging all our 
 eloquence to bear on Aunt Edith, for the purpose of induc- 
 ing her to go with us, we decided to spend the summer at 
 the North. I was sure a change of scene would benefit 
 her, "and it proved that my surmises were correct. 
 
 Stanley was passive ; as for myself, I was anxious for 
 anything that would in the least degree ease the quick, 
 sharp anguish that always rang through my heart, when in 
 fancy I canvassed the long life of loneliness outspread be- 
 fore me. True it is, as the Scotch divine has so touchingly 
 said : " We can bear one day's burden at a time, but the 
 weight of an hundred days together would crush the 
 strono;est." 
 
 Lane Austin proposed to be our escort, and, in the ab- 
 
]82 TEE MONTANAS. 
 
 sence of our brother or Clyde Ingram, we accepted his 
 kindness gratefully. The music of April, the flowers of 
 May, the first rosy breath of June, were gathered into the 
 category of nature's past treasures — into an echoless world 
 of solemn silences — ere we took our departures. Then 
 came long days of travel ! The shrill voice that announced 
 the leagues by which we measured distances between ex- 
 treme sections, and each little detail — some pleasurable, 
 others wearisome — by which we were made to realize this 
 fact, were gathered into the record of experiences past and 
 gone, like those sunbright days, to return no more. 
 
 A year had gone by ; a lightsome, flower-garnished year 
 of calm, serene joy to Raymond and Mary in their new 
 home ; a year of heart changes, soul-weariness, of vacant 
 spaces, and unspoken pain to us at Claremont. We came 
 into the new atmosphere gratefally, reverently. A gleam 
 of the first morning joyousness came back to Stanley's 
 face — so grave and quiet, save at sunny intervals, since that 
 other summer time was ended — as she knelt beside the lit- 
 tle crib and took the tiny velvet hand of her brother's first- 
 bom into her own ; a baby girl — our sweet bird of immor- 
 tality ; she seemed lying there winking diamond eyes of 
 blue as Stanley twirled sunbeams of golden hair that were 
 half shadow in the shrouded room, upon the white brow 
 which she kissed oftener than the cherry lips ; it reminded 
 her of another brow — but of this she did not speak. 
 
 Aunt Edith voluntarily established herself by this little 
 crib — on duty at its post. It was strange, the interest and 
 delight she took in her Uttle grandchild. With more devo- 
 tion even than was her wont, she prayed God that she 
 might be permitted to see this little one grow strong to 
 walk the hard earth way, ere she, frail as infancy, should be 
 called to walk the ways beyond. 
 
THE MONTANAS. 183 
 
 " What do yon call lier, Ray ? " I asked, kissing the hem 
 of her snowy robes, which was the most I could do, for I 
 felt the holy presence of angels hovering about that child. 
 
 " We have not yet decided, Jennie ; I wish you would as- 
 sist us in finding a suitable cognomen for our little queen " — 
 here the young father stooped and kissed his daughter's 
 lips with dignity so tempered by love that was infinite, my 
 heart bowed low down. Was this our Ray, so reckless, so 
 rollicksome of yore ? Years of feeling with their purifying 
 tides seemed to have passed over, leaving him an earnest 
 man, reverent and God-fearing. 
 
 " Call her Stanley," suggested the calm-faced mother. 
 
 We all acquiesced save her who was most specially inter- 
 ested. I was a little surprised at seeing Stanley turn her 
 face towards Mary with the old white, stony look of an- 
 guish upon its fairness, as she answered in tones hoarse 
 with sufi"ering, crushed down by the burden of her life's 
 one regret : 
 
 " Oh ! no ; not that name, please, it would almost crush 
 the little thing; it is a sorrowful name to bear." Then, 
 more gently, she added : 
 
 " I have a name in view ; it is odd, and very sweet ; I 
 am sure you will like it, Mary — an artistic combination of 
 two names, those of your friend and husband, Aljean and 
 Raymond — Ala Ray." 
 
 It was beautiful, so we all thought ; even Ray, who drew 
 his sister to his heart, and in one long, tender embrace, his 
 consent and gratitude were expressed. Thus was our little 
 angel christened Ala Ray by a baptism of joyful tears ! 
 her little pilgrimage inaugurated by the loves of parents, 
 sister, and friend. Might not these strong links which 
 were woven with our heart-strings round her keep her 
 upon earth ? Was the chain, all shining brightly as it was, 
 
184 THE MONTANA S. 
 
 sufficient to bind an angel to tins \N-eary world, or should 
 those little feet first learn to walk the gold-paved streets 
 where eternal sunbeams lie, while for us the sands fall, the 
 morning flowers perish in the broad noon's heat, and suns 
 sink daily into night ? Mute lips have kissed thy rod, O 
 Death, since the first golden morning dawned on Para- 
 dise, and will continue to do so until the last sands fall — 
 the flower wreaths of earth shall perish, and the last suns 
 go down. 
 
 But oh ! we never thought of the failing glories of this 
 ■world or its waning sun, while beamed upon us this bright 
 mornino; star from the firmament of the immortal. AVe 
 basked in its radiance, never seeking to know if it would 
 set in the darkness of night, as other hopes had done be- 
 fore. We neither thought of nor feared the curse of idolatry. 
 How strange and sudden sounded Mrs. Kinofswell's solemn 
 warning one day to the little circle gathered round the crib. 
 Aunt Edith held Ala in her frail arms ; Mr. Kingswell 'sat 
 near, talking gravely to the little lady as though she was 
 quite able to comprehend what he uttered, though I could 
 see he regarded my aunt with as much tenderness as he did 
 his grand-child and hers. The reverence almost with which 
 Mr. Kingswell deported himself towards Aunt Edith and 
 she towards him was to me a matter containing facts filled 
 with grave speculation. 1 was puzzling my head about 
 them when Mrs. Kingswell repeated her warning that we 
 should not make an idol of Ala Ray. I saw that Raymond 
 shared her apprehensions on this score, yet what availed 
 their utterance then ? The silken fetters were already grown 
 so strong — then the object of homage was so sweetly fair, 
 our worship was involuntary. We could not withdraw one 
 tithe of the great love we had given her as time flowed on, 
 even though the sands fell, the flowers perished, the golden 
 
THE MONTANAS. 185 
 
 sun went down very calmly, and the night came on whose 
 stars saw our hearts lying in the dust beneath the smiter's 
 feet. The Haynes were occupying their summer residence 
 near to Ridgely. Though TVarren was in Wayburn more 
 than once during our stay, he and Stanley never met in 
 private circles ; it would not have been quite safe for 
 either. Notwithstanding the cold blue eyes of his wife, 
 which had looked her displeasure so severely, in considera- 
 tion of his attention to me at a party one evening, he 
 would have sought us out and called to see Stanley, had I 
 consented that he should. I had gTave reasons for my 
 refusal. There was that in the very presence of each to 
 the other, a spell which would have unsettled all resolu- 
 tions for silence and calmness, even while past grievances 
 were uncancelled, past wrongs unaccounted for. Ah ! 
 when heart rose up to meet heart, each in their every throb 
 true to the summer music of old; when soul and soul 
 unmasked stood calmly looking beyond earth and time, 
 where would have been those frail barriers then ? An act 
 of the State legislature has made it possible, by the strong 
 cords of society, law, and custom, to fetter a man ph}'si- 
 cally with an external bond of marriage ; but in the holy rela- 
 tion, can it do the rest ? Can a few formal words uttered by 
 a minister of God make the music of his life and fireside ? 
 Can rude hands of a custom that is universal unlock the 
 inmost doors of his being and bring the treasures forth ? 
 Ask of those who vamly try to still these voices uphfted 
 above the hollow observance of rites sacred only when hal- 
 lowed by a love undimmed as time flows on, consecrated 
 by a truth that never pales. 
 
 I met TS'arren several times during his stay at Wayburn. 
 There was ever upon his face an anxious look, as though 
 he sought something which he failed to find. I thought 
 
186 THE MONTAKAS. 
 
 "how, with that faded wreath, had perished the flowers of 
 his life, and of the solitary ship cutting: its way to the 
 heart of a lonely sea ; but never more ran my golden river 
 now — a seal of fate was upon its lucid current. 
 
 Aunt Edith was so much improved, it was thought best 
 to remain at Ridgely until November, and thus another 
 summer rippled by. The few months from spring to 
 autumn had wrought in our baby a full, rich change, 
 though I often saw the light which is not of earth dancing 
 in her eyes ; hence, in recognition of a fact, awful, solemn, 
 full of anguish, I could only bow my head and pray 
 dumbly that she might linger with us. Often in the glow 
 of autumn I pondered of these things, and marvelled why it 
 was so — that the fairest and brightest things that are given 
 us upon the earth should leave us thus. 
 
 Many a sunset found Stanley sitting on the grass-plot 
 with the child in her arms, watching the lingering light on 
 those far New Hampshire hill-tops, and the blue mists 
 gathering in the valley depths below ; then again until the full 
 moon silvered them, and the stars took up their watch above, 
 has Ala Ray sat silently looking into space, and seeming 
 to feel a childish need of something we of earth could not 
 give her, something it was not ours to give, but the Father^s. 
 Then she would sink into a deep, sweet repose, smiling while 
 she slept ; the mother said she was talking with the angels ; 
 and the father, calm, thoughtful, yet fearing he knew not 
 what, would kiss his little darling awake, and ask her over 
 and over again if she loved to sleep under the stars. Again 
 and ao-ain has he broiiorht her back, as it were, from her 
 wanderings in Paradise, to lay her infant beauty to his 
 great, true heart, as if in that strong father-love he would 
 keep her with him for ever. We called her our spirit-child 
 — our sun-ray. When the little folks at Waybum spoke of 
 
THE MONTANAS. 187 
 
 her, they always called her Ala Montana, as though she 
 were half-grown, and not the infant she was. 
 
 " We must take her with us to Claremont," Aunt Edith 
 said ; and her tones were full of pleasant curiosity as to 
 what Miss Phoebe and the servants would say of Ray's 
 baby ; what rare exhibitions we would have of her infant 
 accomplishments. Thus we went on scheming for the 
 future, and making plans — as the sons and daughters of 
 men have vainly essayed to do from the beginning of 
 time. The little to-day is not deep enough nor broad enough 
 for the life we would crowd into it. 
 
 November came wdth its elections! Abraham Lincohi 
 was chosen President of the United States. A Northern 
 president ! think of that, ye delegates to the Bahimore con- 
 vention ! Think of that, ye dignitaries at Charleston, who 
 recklessly withdrew your support from the. great Douglas 
 in favor of John C. Breckinridge. Ah! did they not 
 thmk of it in after days — angrily, defiantly, ere they cut 
 themselves aloof, with the states they represented, from 
 the body of the nation ? The consen^ative heart went out 
 to Douglas ! When wire-working partisans reversed the 
 current in his favor, why should they manifest surprise that 
 the faction to whom their act had given a majority should 
 have asserted its latent power, and gathered strength in its 
 triumphant course? Further still, when those Southern 
 representatives in Congress and the Senate of the United 
 States withdrew their voices from the legislative halls of 
 our common country, what right had they to be amazed 
 that the great machinery crashed on without them — whether 
 to glory or to ruin ? Let those decide who shall write our 
 Nation's history — perchance, her epitaph. 
 
 Life in every department, in every grade, was a convul- 
 sive tumult, agitated by the approaching storm, which has 
 
188 THE MONT AX AS. 
 
 since burst, oh ! how wildly ! Hearts that were brave and 
 true ; graves where the clods are new, out-spread 'neath 
 the heaven's bright blue ; sad tears for nie and for you, 
 watching the long night through ; all, all, save the weary 
 few, Ipng out 'neath th« crimson dew; red blood where 
 the green grass grew ; our loved ones, where shall we seek 
 them ? Yet they are everywhere save in the homes where 
 their names are loved and cherished, where we shall miss 
 them ever more. We may rebuild our national structure, 
 erect pillars of her greatness that tower far towards the 
 eternal heavens, yet we cannot mend the household altars 
 that are broken into fraofments in this strife, or brinor back 
 one tithe of that which has gone down beneath thy tides, 
 O Revolution ! 
 
 The sands are falling — bolts of death, the flowers perish 
 and are consumed in the fierce fires of strife, which bum 
 through long nights of anguish after the suns of many bat- 
 tle days have set in blood, which all eternity may not wash 
 out. 
 
 But we are here to tell a simple story of the heart-trials 
 of one small family of the millions that are unwritten — the 
 God of battles, the Christ of peace has the record. ^\'Tien 
 the reveille is sounded and the earthly roll-call has been 
 vainly repeated, and those who were left sleeping by the 
 way-side have failed to come in answer to the summons, 
 we feel the assurance that many whose names were written 
 among the " missing," have been folded to that infinite 
 heart of the God of storm and refuge, who from out the 
 battle tempest has taken them to himself. 
 
 Thus came Xovember ! a cold, bleak, northern Novem- 
 ber, of piercing winds and bare trees. I remembered that 
 dear sojourner amid strange scenes had repeated to me, 
 with such pathos in his tones, that thrilling poem of Hood's, 
 
THE MONT AX AS. 189 
 
 adding — " My life has been one long November ! " I knew 
 and felt tbe tnitli of what he said then ; the autumn pre- 
 vious, as we sat in the gathering shadows at Brightland — 
 the Promethean fires of genius burning in his glorious 
 eyes. Yes, he had his November as well as Hood, only 
 Clyde Ingram's, unlike the great poet's, was unwritten — his 
 genius was none the less immortal I an attribute that is 
 never at home with the commonplace on earth. If it finds 
 not the one haven which it seeks all through its world- 
 bound range, a love pure, glowing, and eternal, it is ever 
 with its possessor a stranger and pilgrim in the life-ways. 
 Perhaps it was the fact of my having grown to woman- 
 hood in the atmosphere of his presence, inhaling the invi- 
 gorating breath of grand silences and soul-thoughts shin- 
 ing through the few words we have need of, that has 
 given me in some measure a clue to hidden natures, such 
 as Clyde's. But certain it is I never hear any one say of 
 another " they are peculiar, I cannot understand them," but 
 I immediately di^dne there is something more than ordinary 
 to be comprehended, something to admire, to love, to 
 delight in, that the world knows not of, has not yet recog- 
 nised ; for it is slow to acknowledge, and has no innate per- 
 ception of any grand truth, individual or general. Those 
 are the natures that always walk the loftiest paths of earth ! 
 rarely coming out of their citadel of proud reserve ; to learn 
 to know them well is to love them evermore. 
 
 And where was that life — that November in the cold 
 bleakness of our season at Ridgely ? Not one word from 
 him since he left us the preceding autumn. Now that the 
 flowers were perished I often walked out 'neath a sky low- 
 ering and grey, repeating to myself a little poem I had 
 once read. I recall it to-day, despite the time and space 
 between ; there is comfort, and hope, and promise in it : 
 
190 THE MONTAKAS. 
 
 " We meet at one gate — 
 When all's over. Thy ways they are many and wide ; 
 And seldom are two ways the same, side by side — 
 May we stand at the same little door when all's done ? 
 The ways they are many, the end ii is one." 
 
 There has ever been a light in these little lines that has 
 shown me the dark way, and taupiht me a lesson which but 
 for what has happened I might have been long in learning. 
 
 I remember I was thmking of it the last evening of our 
 stay at Ridgely. Clyde's uncle sat beside me, with his 
 kind hand upon my head ; deep into my heart sank the 
 words that he said. 
 
 " There is true happiness, Jennie, without alloy, to be 
 found in the performance of duty. Xo matter what rugged 
 paths we tread — through wastes of life, to the sunny plains 
 beyond. In working for destiny we are working for God ; 
 and the most direct route to Him and to heaven is one that 
 is wrought by hands that are ready and willing to do His 
 will. There are heroes and heroines in this world more 
 worthy the name than those who are sung in story or 
 storied in song ; brave spirits ' who find God in the thing 
 lying nearest to be done.' The record of such lives is 
 yonder, where also will be revealed that silent struggle of 
 yours, dear, and hers and his. Trust God ; wait in 
 silence — only work for the end and the victory ; it will 
 come to you ; if not here, hereafter. Be strong, little one." 
 
 And listening to his words, I tried to believe him, for I 
 felt he meant what he said — this practical Christian. I saw 
 the radiance in his dear face shining like the sun over 
 the far hill-tops that I loved ; further off from me in these 
 long days and months of trial, seemed the faith of which he 
 spoke, and the promise whose fulfilment he pictured. 
 
THE MONTANA S. 191 
 
 There was only for me the weary waiting ; yet I prayed 
 silently to God in that November. 
 
 Ten days later the same circle sat by the parlor fireside 
 ill our own home. Besides our family, Raymond, Mary, 
 little Ala, and Mr. Milverton came back with us to Clare- 
 mont. The baby was delighted with ev^erything she saw — 
 the tropical plants, and winter birds singing in the boughs of 
 evergreens, the falHng fountains, the flowers that were 
 everywhere; and everybody was delighted with her, even 
 Aunt Dinah, who regarded her curiously between her 
 spasms of tear-shedding as though she feared the little crea- 
 ture might take wings and fly away, exclaiming over and 
 over ao;ain : 
 
 " Who would a thought I'd a lived to see Mars Ray- 
 mond's baby ! at Claremont ? And the beautifiillest creetur 
 too ! with skin like them little white daisies in the cabin 
 gardens, and eyes jest like the blue sky ! and hair jest like 
 our own Miss Stanley's when she was a infant." 
 
 Hawsey was immediately installed chief protectress of 
 her young mistress, and became so much enamored of her 
 little ladyship, so won by her gentle ways, that she in her 
 enthusiasm declared her intention of persuading Miss Mary 
 and Mars Ray to permit her to follow the little blossom, watch 
 and tend her even when transplanted to her Northern home. 
 
 " What ! " said Aunt Dinah, " go up thar and be a free 
 nigger? Never! De gal's gwine crazy plum." 
 
 When she found that her mother greeted the proposition 
 with such lofty indignation, Hawsey, to all intents aod pur- 
 poses, relinquished her hope of becoming maid of honor to 
 the juvenile Miss Montana. Though to all external appear- 
 ance Hawsey acquiesced, I observed that she did a good 
 deal of private wire-pulling through Raymond and the rest 
 to gain her end. 
 
192 THE MONTANA S. 
 
 Miss Phoebe knitted more persistently than ever now ; 
 slie declared lier purpose, before so vague and distant of 
 fulfilment, had assumed a tangible shape. The counterpane 
 had long been destined for Raymond's baby. 
 
 Uncle Montana was delighted with his grand-child. The 
 third day after her arrival he brought home a handsome 
 cup of gold with her little name upon its side. Presenting 
 the pretty gift to her little grace with mock pomp, he told 
 the story of the golden cup in mythology, and how the 
 bearer stood at the gate. Miss Phoebe interrupted him with 
 saying : 
 
 " It is my opinion that child will wait long at no gate ; 
 not even the golden one up yonder ; it would unclose of 
 its own accord to let the little angel in. She is too bright 
 a spirit for this dark world of sorrow." 
 
 We felt her words were true ! We made no answer ; 
 how could we ? What should we say ? What was to be 
 we left to time and God. 
 
 CHAPTER Xm. 
 
 " There's a Divinity that shapes our ends, 
 Eough-hew them as we will." * 
 
 Shakbpeasb. 
 
 I AM off for Brightland ; who goes with me to-day ? was 
 Raymond's interrogatory when he appeared armed with 
 whip and gauntlets, equipped for a drive, a few mornings 
 subsequent to our arrival at home. Stanley had gone to 
 spend the day with some fi'iends in the city ; Milverton had 
 gone with her ; Mary was doing some things for baby, sit- 
 ting meantime in Aunt Edith's room, and preferred to re- 
 
TEE MONTANAS. 193 
 
 main with her during the forenoon. Accordingly, it became 
 apparent that the pleasant duty devolved on me. With 
 pleasurable anticipations I accepted Ray's proposition to 
 drive behind Clyde's cream-colored ponies. The groom 
 made a few observations as he gave the lines into the hands 
 of his young master which amused me very much. 
 
 " They will take you that seventeen miles to Brightlaud 
 and back, most as soon as the railroad, young Mars ; Mars 
 Clyde Ingram sot much store by dem bosses, so he did." 
 
 ""Who ever beard of the railroad taking anybody any- 
 where ! the cars do sometimes." With this amiable reflec- 
 tion Raymond settled his patent leathers with a good deal 
 of dasb, gathered up the reins with a flourish of the whip, 
 and departed at a rapid pace, utterly ignoring Peter's voluble 
 retort to the eflect that " Mars Clyde never whipped his 
 hossesy I glanced down at the arched instep so daintily 
 encased in shining boots, remarking mischievously : 
 
 " Aunt Dinah has been sorely troubled lest, with your 
 practical life at the North, you should feel called upon to 
 dispense with some of the luxuries of li\^ng and elegances 
 of apparel for which you were noted previous to your leav- 
 ing home. I perceive you adhere to the old system in one 
 regard at least ; you always believed in being well shod." 
 He answered readily : 
 
 " Yes, Clyde and I, when in Germany, formed a league 
 within ourselves to support patent leather in extreme cases. 
 My Marseillaise and linen suits have not been aired nearly 
 so often of late. It has ever been my policy, however, to 
 act upon the hypothesis that cleanliness is akin to god- 
 liness ; I endeavor to approach by that means as nearly as 
 possible to the divine standard. The first thing I did last 
 spring was to order a genuine Panama, to which I clung 
 persistently throughout the summer." Then changing his 
 
 9 
 
194 THE MOKTANAS. 
 
 high tone for one of earnest meanino:, he exclaimed im- 
 pulsively, like the frank Raymond of old : 
 
 " I wish Clyde was here, Jennie. I cannot conceive why 
 he wanted to go away leaving his business in town, and 
 Brightland out of kilter, as it is. To be sure, he hiis an 
 overseer, but that is not like having the supervision one- 
 self. I repeat, I cannot conceive why he left; can you 
 inform me ? " 
 
 " No— yes — if you really wish it, I will tell you why he 
 w^ent. It was because Stanley refused to marry him," I 
 answered, while a chill crept into my heart. 
 
 " The reason you assign involves another aspect of the 
 case. Why did Stanley refuse to marry him ; do you 
 know ? " 
 
 " I presume it was because she did not love him." 
 
 " No ; it was because she felt Clyde did not love her, 
 though for her sake, and to conciliate our parents, he would 
 haA^e sacrificed his personal feeling in the matter. Believe 
 me, Jennie, could Clyde have given his heart to Stanley, 
 noble, generous, and true as he is, he would in time have 
 won hers in return ; but it was otherwise. Now I am going 
 to tell you a great truth, against which you have long shut 
 your eyes. Clyde Ingram loves you, Jennie, devotedly and 
 entirely, as it falls to the lot of but few women in this 
 world to be loved. I only speak w^hat I have known for a 
 long, long time — since we were children together." 
 
 In my heart, now I believe Raymond spoke truly. I 
 closed my eyes and clasped my hands tremblingly, while the 
 glorious certainty of conviction, like waves of tenderness, 
 swept over me. I heard sweet sounds from bowers russet 
 and red, that girt us on every side. Out into the broad, 
 bright light, streamed anew my golden river ; its current 
 piped the first hope-lays my orphan heart had sung in that 
 
THE MONT AN AS. 195 
 
 fair land of promise. I was like one awakened from what 
 seemed a lonof, troublous trance, thouo-li now tlie ancruisli 
 seemed far oflf, as my faith had once appeared, when Mr. 
 Kin2:swell told me once, the lio-ht ere long; would break in 
 glory. It had broken, and I could think only of my great joy, 
 not daring to look up, lest it should vanish. Now I opened 
 my mind's eye wide. Great Heavens ! Was that my beau- 
 tiful river, still rippling, gliding on? — its current stained 
 with blood ! Yes, the tides ran crimson now — its channel 
 widening, deepening — as it flowed onward to an ocean of 
 gore ! I clasped my hands, exclaiming : 
 
 " Oh, Ray, this is horrible ! " 
 
 " I sympathize with you, Jennie ; this sudden revelation has 
 bewildered you*, but, for the life of me, I cannot see what 
 there is so horrible about it. Clyde is a chivalrous, noble 
 fellow, one of those grand souls who would unhesitatingly 
 lay down life for his love. Why could you not give him 
 one little comer in that great heart of yours, little 
 sister ?" 
 
 " Do not ask me, Ray, anything about it ; some day I 
 will tell you all I know." 
 
 Just then, we came into the avenue leading to Brio-ht- 
 land. Ah ! November, too, was here, sighing round the 
 lonely house, brooding in the distant marshes, and in the 
 bars and dots of mellow sunshine that came down throusfh 
 the tall cedars to play at hide-and-seek upon the nut-brown 
 grass. TTDcn in that solitary, loveless life of his — November 
 always, from youth to age — one long November. Yet into 
 my heart, illumined as it was with the light of the glorious 
 truth that he loved me, none of the glooms and shadows 
 about me could ever come again. Though I was happy in 
 the knowledge of these things, I dared hope for nothing 
 that promised the fulfilment of my hopes ; for oh, those 
 
1 96 THE MONTANA S. 
 
 crimson tides were sweeping on, the channel ever broaden- 
 ing, deepening, while they ran. 
 
 The servants, all anxious and excited by our arrival, imme- 
 diately bestirred themselves in the eflfort to make us coiif- 
 fortable and prepare for us a repast, as it was near noon. 
 Meantime, I made a tour of the house, while Raymond 
 talked over business matters with Clyde's overseer. I bathed 
 my face, arranged my hair, and sat down for a breathing 
 spell on the upper piazza. 
 
 Brightland was situated on an eminence; below were 
 nut-brown swamps dotted with forests of pine, through 
 which coursed the little stream by whose side we often rode 
 or walked, in the golden days when my bright river ran 
 cheerily ; high over head the cold, grey sky arched over a 
 November sea, I seemed to hear Clyde's voice and feel his 
 presence everywhere ; and my heart sent forth a cry — Oh, 
 brother, come back to me; I am weary, and want you so 
 much. I knew now why it was he could not bear to have 
 me call him brother ; knew also what he meant when he 
 said " I loved one woman, but she loved not me." Yea, 
 Raymond's words were true ; Clyde's heart was mine — only 
 mine — through long years, blind years, when I saw it not. 
 When I thought I loved alone, pride kept me silent ; now 
 I felt that he too suffered — the barriers melted all away. 
 
 Ray came jauntily round the comer of the porch, talking 
 in his usual off-hand manner to Clyde's overseer, Mr. Marley. 
 This gentleman was of Northern birth, with red hair, coarse, 
 wiry, red whiskers, and cold, black eyes ; just the man to 
 lord it over slaves ; one who would draw the rein tightly, 
 never sparing the rod. He said, with his quick, sharp 
 accent : 
 
 " It has been some time since I heard directly from Mr. 
 Ingram, though I hold weekly communication with his 
 
THE MONTANAS. 197 
 
 agent in the city. He told me that Mr. Ingram spoke of 
 going to Australia, in a recent epistle addressed to himself. 
 Crops were very fine last year of rice and cotton ; sugar, 
 avei-age. We shall cultivate largely next year, while we 
 have the hands. ' Make hay while the sun shines,' is our 
 policy. Do you know ? " he continued, squinting one of 
 his hard, black eyes until it was almost closed, " since peo- 
 ple have become generally aware of the result of our elec- 
 tions, many of our neighboring planters have had trouble in 
 keeping do^vn their slaves. Mr. Ingram's' servants seem not 
 to have become affected with the malaria, for he is a good 
 master, and I believe if they had choice to-morrow, to go or 
 stay, they would remain to a man, though the elements of 
 dissatisfaction may arise here too, as they will, doubtless, 
 all over the whole countr}-." 
 
 The man's words actually startled me. The stonn had 
 indeed been brewing a long time ; the crimson river was 
 fairly booming now, and I felt the issue to be certain and 
 near, and the end far off; yes, far beyond the blood-red 
 tides of years ; as surely on that day as on this, almost four 
 years between. 
 
 " In the event of a war between the sections," continued 
 Mr. Marley, "your sympathies would be with usV This 
 last was said with an insinuating leer of familiarity which 
 Raymond's recent democratic surroundings had not in the 
 least degree prepared him for ; he drew himself up, answer- 
 ing very coldly, never once deigning to look in the direc- 
 tion of the hard, black, questioning eyes : 
 
 " It should matter but very little to you, sir, or any one 
 else, as regards the direction to which my s}-mpathies tend. 
 I shall never permit them to sway me in the slightest, at 
 the expense of principles involving right and justice ; which 
 means duty to country as well as to my fellow-man ! " 
 
198 THE MONTANAS. 
 
 Spoken like our own Raymond, I thought — little Ala's 
 father. " Bless her," he exclaimed, while his eyes ran over 
 when we were fairly on the way to join her. 
 
 " T cannot tell you half I feel for that little darling, Jen- 
 nie ; or how intricately day by day she is growing into my 
 life." 
 
 " You need not seek to do so, Raymond ; I know it all. 
 Ala is precious to every one of us ; but oh ! brother, I feel 
 it is wrong to worship her blindly, passionately, as we do. 
 Supposing we should lose her? Then, if war should be 
 declared, which is possible and probable, you may be called 
 upon yourself to go — for your country to die — leaving her 
 alone in this weary world. In that case, dearest brother, 
 would it not be better that she went first ? Remember, the 
 golden portals are not closed against our Ala, Ray. Any 
 time that God called she could go, and be welcome." 
 
 " Oh ! don't," he exclaimed, as though my words were 
 lances that cut-him to the soul; "it almost kills me, Jennie, 
 to think of this, even." He dashed the tear-drops impa- 
 tiently from his face, and we came swiftly up the Claremont 
 road. Where was my warning when Hawsey came out to 
 meet us with Ala seated upon her shoulder, holding her 
 dainty little hands while the child very demurely and qui- 
 etly smiled to us a welcome home ? Was it the slanting 
 sunbeams streaming over her brow and face and hair that 
 made her seem so supernaturally, almost divinely beauti- 
 ful ? I only know I never saw on any other human face 
 the expression which her baby features wore very often 
 nowadays. 
 
 A pleasant group sat dressed and waiting on the veranda 
 in the Indian summer glow of a waning day, which I called 
 my last day at Brightland. Tea was announced, which was 
 spread in the most luxurious manner; broiled meats and 
 
THE MONTANAS. 199 
 
 game ; liot biscuits with coffee, tea, and cliocolate ; a side- 
 ^able bearing fruits of every description which the season 
 and climate afforded. Lane Austin joined us in this meal, 
 as was his custom to do at evenings nowadays. Though on 
 this special occasion he startled us with a formal announce- 
 ment that the Haynes had arrived in the city for the win- 
 ter. I saw the very shadow of a crimson flush come into 
 Stanley's cheek, then fall again ; but she made no sign. 
 
 " Will you call upon them ? " " No," Raymond an- 
 swered abruptly and emphatically ; thus the matter rested, 
 though Stanley suffered, ph ! how much : and I loved and 
 sympathized with her, which was the most that I could do. 
 I was powerless to help her in any way to bear her burden. 
 
 The misunderstandings which had driven Clyde and nae 
 asunder were nothing to this ban which made Stanley's 
 pure love a sin in sight of God and man. 
 
 We met them the next afternoon as we drove down to 
 the city. Stanley was looking radiant in a dress of cherry 
 silk, trimmed with guipure lace, finished with pomt collar 
 and cuffs ; an ermine mantle, swinging by its snowy silken 
 cord and tassel, partially enveloped her shoulders. Her eyes 
 were sparkling, her curls flowing, cheeks glowing ; this was 
 the picture that met Warren's eyes as we swept hastily by 
 them. I intercepted his glance of recognition of her, em- 
 bodying a wild, passionate gleam that made me tremble ; 
 there was in it such an expression of reckless steadfastness 
 which told he had suffered much, and in that instant was 
 ready to do and to dare anything or everything for her ; 
 even to ignore his galling bonds — to come out from them 
 to her pure side again, and vow in the presence of aU the 
 world the love that was consuming him. I knew that safety 
 for either lay only in time and distance; in which even 
 the frailest might take refage. They were both upright in 
 
200 THE MONTANAS. 
 
 principle, but love was at tlie helm ; and duty was a frail 
 ship in which to combat the surging w^,ves while the tides 
 of fate set stronor a<jainst them. 
 
 It was a hard winter for Stanley ; we met the Haynes 
 almost daily in our drives — occasionally at the theatre and 
 opera ; but never in our private circle ; it was my policy 
 if possible to avoid a tete-a-tete for those two — my cousins. 
 
 One evening, near the close of the season, there came a 
 party of serenaders to Claremont from the city. I detected 
 Warren's voice in the chorus to a full rich ballad, embody- 
 ing a German air very pathetic and touching. Stanley 
 brought me a card upon which she had pencilled these 
 words — " Go Warren, and for my sake as well as for your 
 own, never, never come here again." There was no 
 signature, but I knew he w^ould instantly recognise her 
 chirography. 
 
 " I approve your measure, but I should have worded it 
 somewhat diflferently ; Warren is a gentleman, you know ; 
 this may lead him to fear you misconstrued his presence 
 here." Her answer reassured me : 
 
 " No, no, he came thoughtlessly, I am sure, meaning no 
 reflection whatever upon my name. There was in that 
 plaintive song of his the burden of memories that wdll not 
 be crushed down ; he is haunted by a ghost of former joy, 
 and forgets that I may not be strong enough to hear the 
 hopeless voices that tell me of a by-gone time." 
 
 I spoke slowly and cautiously to Stanley, after having 
 despatched a servant with the card addressed to Warren ; 
 much as I felt for her, I also pitied him. His manner in 
 their meetings recently, brief and circumscribed as they 
 were, had given her vastly the advantage ; he had mani- 
 fested all that he felt for her — the hopeless love and vain 
 reorret ; while she was more than ever coniinced that War- 
 
THE MONT ANAS. 201 
 
 ren had married for wealth. He never di\aned that she 
 loved him stiU ; he deemed her false and fickle — thought 
 she had cast off Clyde from pure caprice. 
 
 I had never told Stanley of the evidence he had of her 
 untruth to him ; had not shown her the letter I held in 
 my possession ; I did not deem it best, just yet, to reopen 
 wounds that had bled at every pore. I knew how cold 
 and cruel must seem those little words of hers to him who 
 already misjudged her. As we stood next morning on the 
 veranda, a sen*ant on horseback came up the carriage road 
 from the city, bearing an exquisite bouquet, together with a 
 note for Miss Montana. "There is no answer," she said 
 haughtily to the man ; then drew me softly into her own 
 apartment, closed the door, and read as follows : 
 
 " You have bidden me come no more where I may look 
 upon you ; you have denied me the simple "desire of Iny 
 eyes ; I wiU comply. If from all the past you wiU permit 
 yourself to recall the one of my words that was most ear- 
 nest and full of solemn meaning, believe that word to be 
 true to-day as it was in that bright time. And let this be 
 my apology for having annoyed you on the last evening of 
 my stay. I leave for New Orleans to-day ! let these simple 
 flowers find a place somewhere near you— within the circle 
 of your presence ; they bear to you my long farewell — a fare- 
 well which I dare not speak ; my lips henceforth are sealed." 
 I saw how it was ; his patient words had smitten a place 
 in her heart which she thought cold and hard towards him ; 
 ah ! it was only her power of will that made it seem so. 
 She tottered to where I sat, her arms outstretched, with a 
 little sharp cry of anguish that was ere long broken by 
 sobs that shook her young frame like a reed as she lay 
 with her golden head upon my shoulder, and her white, 
 cold arms clasped rigidly about my neck. Her emotional 
 
 9* 
 
202 TEE MOKTANAS. 
 
 moments of late had been so few, I was surprised at hei 
 indulgence of feeling even on this occasion. 
 
 "How could you be so strong and hide all from him, 
 when you have suffered daily, hourly, so much ? " 
 
 "/^ was from her I hid the pain,^'' she said, almost fierce- 
 ly ; starting up and petulantly bathing her face, as though 
 angry with herself for the outbreak. 
 
 I mused for a long time, then said: 
 
 " Stanley, darling, has it ever occurred to you there 
 might have been some counter current here — some tide be- 
 neath the tides, which has turned the current of two lives 
 apart, when they should have flowed together ? You be- 
 lieved Warren false ; I believe that he has always been 
 true ; that his marriage with that woman, and the prolonged 
 pain he suffers, are the inevitable results of a conviction 
 that you yourself were not true, and cared nothing at all for 
 him." 
 
 She made a haughty gesture of incredulity, but I pro- 
 ceeded fearlessly nevertheless : 
 
 "You have both been deceived — duped — cruelly, shame- 
 fdly ; take my word for it. I will not tell you howl know 
 this ; you might not feel inclined to listen ; perhaps it is 
 better you should not hear it. There is one thing, how- 
 ever, I wish you to understand; it is that you are very un- 
 just to Warren Hayne when you cherish any feeling of 
 resentment towards him. He is at least in every way- 
 worthy your esteem and friendship, if nothing more ; kinder 
 words are due to him than were those of yours last night. 
 I am sure you will repent them some time. I wonder he 
 bears them gently, patiently, as he does. I will leave you 
 now ; I must go to Aunt Edith ; please join us soon." 
 
 But Stanley did not come. She remained alone through- 
 out the day ; she did not respond to her brother's special 
 
THE MONTANAS. 203 
 
 summons to dinner — excused herself upon the score of a 
 headache. Ray gave me a piercing look of inquiry when 
 Hawsey returned with her answer, then said in .a quiet 
 undertone, designed for my ear only : 
 
 " She has had a good many headaches recently." 
 
 '■'■Heartaches, too,^^ was my mental suggestion, but he 
 understood that too well. As I was going to my own 
 room, I met her brother coming from hers, looking much 
 pleased about something. 
 
 " She has promised to witness La Fille du Regiment this 
 evening," he exclaimed, his face full of concern for the even 
 transitory happiness of his dear sister. I thought often of 
 that expression of triumph on his face in days that came 
 after — when he was fighting on a broad battle-field that 
 was far from our home and his. 
 
 I kept wondering all the afternoon if it were best to tell 
 Stanley all that I knew concerning that affair of hers and 
 "Warren's ; act as I felt, and express boldly my conviction 
 that Retta Austin had intercepted their correspondence. 
 Finally, I decided it was but just so to do ; whatever peace 
 could come between them now, would aid in tranquillizing 
 the mind of each, and could be maintained silently without 
 encroaching upon another's rights ; at least, it would take 
 the burden of a crushing doubt from the heart of my sweet 
 friend. 
 
 I went to her room later in the afternoon ; she was drink- 
 ing a cup of tea, preparatory to making a toilet for the even- 
 ing. She said languidly : 
 
 "Come, Aljean, I want you to help me. Ray says I 
 must look my best to-night ; do you know, since brother 
 has been talking to me so earnestly about many things, 1 
 have half a mind to accept Milverton's hand, and go away 
 with him anywhere — I care not — across the ocean, per- 
 
204 TEE MONTANAS. 
 
 haps? I am reckless, and ready for anything and every- 
 thing." 
 
 I quietly dismissed Hawsey, installed myself dressing- 
 maid 2^^o tern, to her young mistress, while she continued to 
 talk on in that careless, hopeless strain, which cut me deeper 
 than her words of anguish : 
 
 " It may as well come now, all that may happen in time. 
 I presume I must get married ; everybody says, how strange 
 it is that we do not — you and I, so sought for and appa- 
 rently desirable." She gave a little shudder here ; she was 
 too weary and heartsore to play well the part she had 
 assumed. 
 
 " Lane Austin, Jennie, who worships the very ground on 
 which you walk ; let us make those two poor fellows happy. 
 What say you ?" 
 
 " And ourselves miserable in the meantime ? " I said, 
 interrogatively. 
 
 " There are two prominent barriers between Lane and 
 myself; we lack the consent of the parties most directly con- 
 cerned ; he is not in the notion, neither am I ; on that point 
 we understand each other perfectly. Though were it other- 
 wise, I assure you I should never outrage my soul by marrying 
 any man whom I did not and could not love, even if he loved 
 me ever so much ; neither would you, though you were 
 talking at random thus." She mused for some time, then 
 resumed : " After all, what avails this weary waiting ? It is 
 aimless ; rushing into that other association would not be 
 wholly objectless ; new scenes and new ties might wean me 
 from some I find it necessary to eschew. Oh, Jennie ! I 
 am heartily sick of the whole pageant — this life I lead." 
 
 " If this were all, Stanley, we might well become so ; 
 but there is something beyond, when the pain and waiting 
 shall be over. Uncle Kingswell has told us of these things 
 
TEE MONTANAS. 205 
 
 many times. I did not realize his hope then ; I have since 
 felt the truth and glory of all that he meant. Life is but 
 a trial season, a prelude to eternity." 
 
 " Ah ! it does for you, Jennie, who have no secret pain 
 to bear, to talk of life as though it was far away from you ; 
 I am thirsty, and feel its burdens are so real. It is much 
 harder for those who are travel-stained and overcome with 
 the heat and dust of the journey to come into that higher, 
 brighter way that Mr. Kingswell talks so sweetly and hope- 
 fully about. Dearest, the pathway to that promised land lies 
 through toil and tears and suffering ; there are thorns in it, 
 and I am too weak and powerless to pluck them out." 
 
 " If you cannot do this for yourself, perhaps you can for 
 a fellow-traveller whom we once esteemed very dearly. He 
 is your friend and mine. Do as I bid you, and the sharp 
 arrow will be extracted ; the act will be as balm to the 
 bleeding abrasion." So saying, I took from my pocket a 
 casket containing the pearls Warren requested so earnestly 
 that I should give her. " You will wear them, dear, for his 
 sake and mine." 
 
 She assented, doubtless imagining the gift came from 
 Clyde, though with characteristic delicacy she forbore to 
 question me on the subject, believing I would teU her all that 
 was needful when the fitting season came. I rolled from my 
 fingers masses of golden curls, then hfted them, fleecy and 
 light, from her pure, beautiful brow, ran the little fillet of 
 bright blue across the glittering mesh, and caught them by 
 the pearl brooch at the side. I gathered the longer in a 
 cluster, twisted with them a few half open orange blossoms, 
 and caught the mass at the back of her Grecian head with 
 a pure white comb, then clasped the pendants iu her tiny 
 ears, then stood off to witness the effect of my handy work. 
 I had reason to feel proud of my effort and my friend. I 
 
206 THE MONTANAS. 
 
 call her so, because in tlie category of terms there are few 
 dearer to me than this. She was radiantly lovely, attired 
 in a dress of Marie Louise blue, with an ermine victorine 
 caught by its cherry tassels. It was curious to see how the 
 golden rings of hair broke here and there from the mass 
 of brightness with no apparent design but to look what 
 they were, a part of Stanley's witchery. The household 
 greeted her with acclamations of delight when she came 
 below stairs ; MOverton handed her into the carriage. 
 
 " Nothing could console your unworthy votaries in having 
 lost your society for the day, but the fact of your coming 
 forth so radiant this evening." Poor fellow, what else 
 could he say, he was so dazzled by this vision of loveliness. 
 Stanley thanked him kindly as we were being whirled 
 away ; the buggy containing Raymond and Mary followed 
 swiftly in our wake. 
 
 We had scarcely taken our places in Clyde's box when I 
 observed the Haynes immediately opposite in the dress 
 circle. Stanley, too, saw them, though she seemed not to 
 do so as she sat playing abstractedly with the cherry tassels 
 of her victorine. 
 
 I caught Warren's eye just in time to intercept a look of 
 grieved tenderness which I had seen so often on his face 
 of late. The pained expression passed from his brow as a 
 vapor in the " clear shining after rain ; " then an expression 
 of rest came over his features it was pleasant to look upon. 
 He turned his attention now to his wife, while the rich 
 swell of -orchestral music rose and fell like the waves of 
 tenderness in those two souls who loved a love that was 
 hopeless yet deathless. Stanley was wearing his gift ; she 
 did not then despise him utterly ; it was for this evidence 
 of relenting and forgiveness on her part he had waited in 
 New Orleans another day. Now he could go home braver, 
 
THE MOITTANAS. 207 
 
 stronger to do his work in life. Strange, how even this 
 little manifestation that Stanley remenibered him more 
 kindly, than her apparent slight and her words to him 
 the previous day had given him reason to believe, filled 
 his heart with intense joy. 
 
 We all felt happier, I think, for that evening's entertain- 
 ment. We could look into the future with more clearness 
 and certainty — even Stanley, whose strange mood of the 
 morning had entirely passed away. She was more at rest, 
 and seemed to accept the destiny that was her life 
 patiently. She asked me no further question concerning 
 the donor of those pearls, and I told her nothing more just 
 then ; the time was not yet come. I hoped I scarce knew 
 what for either her or Warren — only that God would help 
 them and bring them into His peace and His great love, 
 which was strength and might. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 "Then shook the hills with thunder riven, 
 Then rushed the steeds to battle driven, 
 And louder than the bolts of heaven 
 Far flashed the red artillery." 
 
 Campbell. 
 
 Now come we to the saddest part of our story ! The crim- 
 son tides sweeping through my fancy came nearer and 
 nearer. Through homes of the North and flowers of the 
 South ran their desolating course. Cold hearts sat shivering 
 by^ colder hearthstones as the blood-red current trailed. 
 Oh ! whither would it bear our hopes and dreams ? Who 
 coutd say, There is no face that I have kissed and loved 
 
208 THE MONTANAS. 
 
 lying underneath the clods of a way since worn and beaten 
 into dust by feet that bear our sacrifices to the funeral pyre, 
 to await the fiery billows that should consume them. Ah ! 
 no ; rapidly the keen darts are flying ; you may encase your 
 heart in a covering of adamant, they will yet pierce you 
 through. Many a life-path to the far eternal lies through 
 fields of gore, and our dead sleep not where home-shades 
 may shelter them from the noonday sun that beat upon 
 them in their last toilsome march. 
 
 The Haynes, as well as Raymond and his family, had 
 returned to the North. There were summer flowers and 
 warm bright suns that shone with a lustre that was mockery. 
 The inauguration of Mr. Lincoln proved to be but another 
 name for the inauguration of rebellion in the South, which 
 involved our country in civil war. One by one those States 
 had broken the old band of sisterhood, had seceded, and 
 formed an antagonistic league under the Palmetto banner 
 of South Carolina. 
 
 Ere March had sighed out her last days of peace, and 
 April came cheerily with her bright wreaths and glad voices, 
 " the guns of Sumter knelled in the war." Oh ! with what 
 agonised terror we watched and prayed, while the South with 
 one accord, one heart, flew to arms, and were ere long en- 
 rolled as enemies to country and government. Men of the 
 South, high and low, rich and poor, were soldiers in the 
 broad field together. The fair, bright brow of many a mo- 
 ther's only son was crisped in the toilsome march to stTUg- 
 gle for a phantom which they called liberty ! The result of 
 this infatuation was a tide of resistance, unquenchable as 
 the life bounding in those young veins like the current of 
 some inspiration, and a purpose that meant victory, suc- 
 cess, but was only — death. 
 
 All through that long sunny summer we waited, for what ? 
 
THE MONTANA S. 209 
 
 We scarcely knew ; listeinng to tlie rattle of musketry and 
 the tramp of soldiers on drill. We often drove down to 
 see the Crescent Guard, with their gay uniform, go throuo"h 
 the manual of arms. There was such buoyancy in each 
 young face, and jests passed carelessly from lip to lip. Ah ! 
 of that body of men how few have lived to tell the story of 
 those days ! Swiftly, to rise no more, they fell beneath the 
 fire from battalions of the enemy ; but they fought like 
 men — brave men, who cared not for life when weio-hed 
 against a purpose that was stronger. 
 
 I have since heard jeering lips scout the idea of Southern 
 men, not inured to toil, being able to fight the long battle 
 to its close. Horace Greeley, I remember, talked eloquently 
 about " crushing the rebellion with a blow." But gradu- 
 ally that kind of thing has ceased to be, since we have 
 learned the characters of the men with whom we war, 
 and come to recognise in the Southern heart an attribute 
 that fearlessly counts no cost, no sacrifice, unworthy the 
 cause in which their energies were embarked — which meant 
 resistance to the bitter end. 
 
 In late autumn came a letter from Clyde, the first syl- 
 lable he had addressed to me since his departure. He 
 stated briefiy his views with regard to the war ; expressed 
 an opinion that the country would be invaded, and it would 
 be better for us to go North to remain permanently until 
 the thing was settled. This we decided to do, and had our 
 arrangements completed when he came home. 
 
 We sat, Stanley and I, in the summer-house, talking of 
 many things ; of that past through which my bright river 
 ran — of the solitary ship amid ocean tides — lastly, of our 
 city circle, so changed and broken. There was a tempest 
 in the social atmosphere, whose rain fell in blood-drops on 
 the earth — whose fury was sweeping a generation of human 
 
210 THE MONTAN^AS. 
 
 beings to their last account, when Clyde Ingram came and 
 stood silently before us. 
 
 I should have risen to give him my hand, as my heart 
 had risen to greet him, but there was neither trust nor hope 
 in the strangle calmness of his manner — the look on his stem 
 face. The hard lines about his compressed lips softened 
 not for an instant, while Stanley plied many inquiries con- 
 cerning where and how he had been, and why he had re- 
 mained away without writing us one word. 
 
 " Oh ! I thought you would not care to have letters from 
 me ; there was nothing to interest you in the details of my 
 life as passed in those forest wilds ; I considered the most 
 charitable thing would be to allow you a respite from my un- 
 willing persecution. I should not now be home but for the 
 fact that my country needs me. On the first intimation of 
 her involved state, I left Australia with the intention of 
 offering my poor service in this hour of her peril. I felt I 
 had no riofht to T\4thhold the little I could do." 
 
 My heart leaped into my throat; the decision for my 
 future was here and now. I asked the question cautiously, 
 vainly endeavoring to still the throbbings of heart and brain 
 as I awaited his answer, which came slowly and solemnly. ■ 
 
 "The die is cast, Aljean, without wish or will of mine; 
 this armed resistance to the Government seems a rash pro- 
 ceeding ! but the present administration is at war with our 
 institutions. I am no man, no Southern man, if I give not 
 to the section in which my lot is cast, the work my hands 
 can do for the South. Had I been a member of Congress, 
 my sense of justice would have led me to occupy that place 
 until the trial season was over. Placing ourselves in a defi- 
 ant attitude — assuming the offensive, was, I repeat, a rash 
 act, and furnished a pretext for many aggressions on the 
 part of the federal authorities since. God knows I love my 
 
* THE MONTAKAS. 211 
 
 country, its starry flag and constitution, but I cannot turn 
 traitor to the South — my section : see her bleeding at 
 every pore of her haughty heart, yet raise no hand to help 
 her. I cannot join with those who would desolate her; 
 my all is here. I must preserve that — my property, if 
 possible, from utter ruin." 
 
 Stanley spoke what she felt vehemently. " Oh, Clyde ! 
 for God's and country's sake, take no stand while patriotism 
 and conscience are thus dissevered. Remember, if your pro- 
 perty were gained, would it not be worthless if you sacrificed 
 principle in the effort to retain it ? Your heart, my brother, 
 is not with those who have trampled under foot the Consti- 
 tution and the old banner ; then do not identify yourself with 
 such ! Come out from among them ; take no part in the 
 weary struggle ! wait for the issue ; God holds the balance ; 
 give not your life to assist in turning it one way or another." 
 
 " Stanley, my more than sister, you talk just like a 
 woman ! you do not seem to realize there can be no such 
 position while we stand beside the seething caldron and see 
 the fires are glowing. I must go in one direction or the 
 other ; after all, it makes little difference the position one 
 occupies in this diabolical business. I hold that all war is 
 wrong! God never intended that generations of human 
 beings should murder one another, after the fashion of our 
 doing. The glorious insignia of freedom and liberty are 
 dimmed by the breath of ambition and party strife. We 
 were growing too prosperous as a nation ! this is our chas- 
 tening ! We had reached the climax of civilized arro- 
 gance ; we are culminating towards barbarism." 
 
 Stanley again remarked — 
 
 " It occurs to me civilization is a mythical term of sectional 
 strife and hatred in these days of miserable bicker- 
 ings." 
 
212 THE MONTANA S. 
 
 " True ! it is a hateful age ! As for myself I do not 
 live in it. I have broken all bonds of companionship with 
 those who do ; have eschewed its petty commonplaces 
 and requisitions; have learned to live above everything 
 except its sufferings and desolateness." 
 
 I looked at him ; the pallor on his face had given place 
 to a glow of excitement which quickly paled and blanched, 
 as do our blush roses in autumn. I saw burninor in his 
 eyes the great fires of genius, grand and immortal as 
 his own soul. For this choice spirit was there only a lonely 
 way, a constant reaching after companionship with a mind 
 from which had been purged the drosses of every-day 
 existence, one who could look upon its weird, distorted facts, 
 carped and misshapen as they were, from the stand-point 
 of a judgment coupled with foresight : a sense of justice 
 that was far above all petty estimates and demands. He 
 sat looking so grandly self-poised and self-centred, he did 
 not need me ; how could I approach him as he sat up among 
 the stars — far, far above me, while he did the work of life in 
 harness, struggling with the fetters he could not wear and 
 could not break. My heart waited a long time in silence 
 in the dust at his feet, then the words — Oh ! Clyde, how we 
 missed you — were forming on my lips when Milverton ex- 
 claimed at the entrance to our arbor : 
 
 " Upon my word, ladies, this is too much for even an 
 amiable bachelor like myself to bear tamely ! Just think of 
 my having wandered about these grounds like a disembodied 
 spirit, in search of these two young ladies since tea-time; 
 now at last I find them holding a clandestine conference 
 with you. By the way, notwithstanding an overwhelming 
 sense of personal wrong in which you are involved with 
 them to your discredit, I will say I am glad to see you ! 
 Welcome home, old fellow, I am glad to see you back ; when 
 
THE MOXTANAS. 213 
 
 did you arrive in the city, and how long do you purpose 
 remaining;?" 
 
 " I came two hours ago ; I shall stay until I am- ordered 
 to depart with a regiment, the command of which has 
 been tendered to me, now forming under the auspices of 
 Lieutenant-Colonel Austin at Brio-htland. As reo-ards the 
 young ladies, having less claim upon their attention 
 and courtesy than your more ^fortunate self, I will resign 
 them to your charge until I have seen my mother." So 
 saying, he arose to depart, but was prevented by Mil- 
 verton. 
 
 " Oh ! I beg your pardon, Ingram, I shall not be so un- 
 generous as to claim both ; I will not play Shyloch in return 
 for your liberality. If Miss Stanley will favor me with her 
 society, I will ask nothing more." 
 
 Clyde bowed and led me from the summer-house, into the 
 night brightened by moon and stars, along the old familiar 
 paths. I could feel his heart throb against my arm, though 
 even in our home ways reigned the old silence which I could 
 not break. Strange, I had resolved to say a thousand things 
 to Clyde when he came home about the terrible mistake I 
 had made. I meant to tell him, without his asking, that I 
 did love him dearly and had loved him long; that my 
 coldness and caprice were assumed to disguise the truth, 
 because I thought he loved Stanley. I imagined it would 
 be an easv matter to tell him these thino-s, but it was not 
 so. I waited silently until he spoke tremulously. 
 
 "Will you teU me of what you were thinking, Aljean?" 
 I started, endeavoring so to do, but only succeeded in blush- 
 ing quietly instead. Then his eyes wandered again to the 
 starry avenues, as though my reply — even if I succeeded in 
 making one — would affect him very little, and was some- 
 thing he had no right to expect. His aspect aroused my 
 
214 THE MONTANAS. 
 
 pride, then enabled me to answer, though somewhat con- 
 strainedly and coldly : 
 
 "I was thinking of Brightland — quamt and old, hal- 
 lowed by such thronging memories, yet desecrated by 
 the tread of unhallowed feet! of the tri-colored banner 
 floating there ; coarse jests and oaths breaking the silence 
 of other days. I am glad we are going North. I could not 
 bear to remain here a witness to the enactment of such 
 scenes." 
 
 " Even if you stayed, you would not be pained by them 
 long," he said gently — very gently. I was ready to die of 
 shame at my petty outburst of an anger I did not really 
 feel. I hated myself for lodng him, as he was so far above 
 me that even harsh words of mine had no power to touch 
 him. I wanted to retort, and should have done so but for 
 that calm, unapproachable look on his face, which said — If 
 kind words never come from you I can at least shut my 
 heart against those that are not so ; they shall have no 
 power to sway me. 
 
 I went into the house to prepare Aunt Edith for this 
 surprise, leaving Clyde to follow. When I had informed 
 her of her son's arrival and calmed her agitation, I sent 
 Hawsey with a message to that effect ; when he came in 
 I withdrew to the veranda, leaving them alone. I saw a 
 carriage coming up the lighted avenue, then heard gay 
 voices ask a ser^'ant if the ladies were at home. I arose, 
 went to my room to smoothe my hair. I paused a moment 
 at Aunt Edith's door as I was going to the parlor. The 
 scene in that apartment was too holy to be intruded upon. 
 A strong man kneeling reverently, his face fiill of tender- 
 ness, beside his mother, chafing her hands, telling her the 
 things long pent up in his heart. Miss Phoebe's needles 
 pUed the task a little more reluctantly, for upon their bright- 
 
THE MONTANA S. 215 
 
 ness was the mist of human tears, though no one saw them 
 fall upon that night of our last reunion. Aunt Edith's voice 
 was very sad and sorrow-burdened, though very gentle. 
 " Why have you left me so long, my darling boy ?" 
 " I went because I could not stay. The why and where- 
 fore of this fact is a secret which only God and my own 
 heart know. I have never told it to mortal, because there 
 was no one to hear it ; therefore I went, that I might keep 
 it to myself." 
 
 " And will you really go into the army, my son ?" 
 "Yes, mother, I shall go ; my regiment is being equipped 
 
 and armed ; and I must" he paused suddenly ! a 
 
 spasm of agony convulsed Aunt Edith's haggard face. I 
 came forward here, sending Hawsey to find Stanley and 
 inform her she wa^ expected in the parlor, and took her place 
 at Aunt Edith's side. Still I heard the gay voices below ! 
 how strange sounded the hum of their light talk while we 
 listened, Clyde and I, to Aunt Edith's recital, which was 
 very sad. I will only give the reader a portion of what 
 she said that last night : 
 
 " My parents opposed bitterly my union with your father, 
 Clyde, though I married him notwithstanding, because I 
 wanted to come away from what had been to me the scene 
 and season of a trying sorrow. They would never have 
 consented either to my marriage with the only man I ever 
 truly loved, because of some misconduct on the part of his 
 sister. It was very hard for us both ! He, too, suffered, if 
 possible, more than I ; though on account of the shame* in 
 which the affair involved him he was too proud to suppli- 
 cate for my hand ; neither would he tempt me to disobey 
 them and marry against their will. Never, my children, 
 hold any human being accountable for the sin or wrong- 
 doing of another — even though that other be a near ftiend 
 
216 THE MO NT AN AS. 
 
 or relative ; it is cruel to make them responsible for what 
 they cannot help. Mr. Ingram came North with his little 
 son who was then but a few months old, in charge of Miss 
 Phoebe. I met him by accident ; he courted me. I ac- 
 cepted him for the reason I have told you ; though my 
 father entreated me earnestly not to do so. 
 
 " ' That little boy,' said he, ' will never requite your care of 
 him ; one's own children rarely do that ; he will do less.' It 
 so happened, providentially perhaps, we had no children 
 of our own. When your father died he gave you into my 
 charge. The man whom I had so loved, I heard was happily 
 married to a noble woman, and living in the region of my 
 old home. I did not wish to return there ; neither did I 
 wish to assume the management of these estates during your 
 minority. Accordingly I appointed Mr. Kingswell guard- 
 ian to you ; for the sake of our past he accepted the charge, 
 and retained it even when I married Mr. Montana, to whom 
 I committed your property in trust. You owe much to the 
 kind guardianship of both these men ; they are good and 
 true men. 
 
 " Do not misunderstand me, my son, I am not heartless ; 
 though I did not love your father, I venerated him for his 
 integrity and high principle ; we were mutually kind and 
 happy in our brief union. The father of my children I also 
 respect and esteem ; but all the love of my heart was given 
 away before the duties of wife and mother came to me. 
 Somehow, all the pent up current of tenderness flowed out to 
 you ; I would have given you since the most precious boon 
 in my keeping, my child, my Stanley ; but you could not 
 love each other, it seemed, and I guess it was not to be. This 
 disappointment I bore silently, though my heart was set 
 on having you my own as long as I lived. But I cannot 
 bear tamely that your hand should be raised against my 
 
THE MONTANAS. 2 1 7 
 
 son. Mr. Montana always loved best his own land. Ray- 
 mond has inherited his father's preference. I think he will 
 be with the government, right or wrong ; as it is just that 
 he should be. 
 
 "Claremont is yours! We remain here only at your 
 option ; once you take the position you have accepted in 
 earnest, it becomes imperative that you should'send us away 
 beyond the lines. Xow, my son, does it seem to you right 
 that I, a broken-hearted woman, should suffer thus by the 
 voluntary act of a child whom I have most loved and che- 
 rished ? And that he in the days of her infirmity should 
 place himself in an attitude where it will be impossible to 
 afford her home and shelter ? As for myself, I shall not 
 need it long ; but for Stanley and Jennie, my daughters, 
 have I asked even this vainly of you, Clyde, who was ever 
 before so kind to us all ?" 
 
 " Mother, you really tax and try me very much indeed. 
 I owe everything I possess, and more, to yourself and Mr. 
 Kingswell ; besides honor, respect, and love, which I feel I 
 have given to the uttermost. As regards my real estate, 
 including Claremont and Brightland, it is yours ; it is to 
 defend these for the sake of yourself and your children, 
 against those who would desolate them, I stand where I 
 do — an enemy to country and government ! 
 
 " I am not responsible for Raymond's position any more 
 than for my own. As regards your remaining here, mother, 
 I am anxious to have you do so ; though with your present 
 proclivities that would soon become impossible ; besides, it 
 would Qot be pleasant in the event of an invasion, which 
 we have reason to fear and to anticipate. I shall not meet 
 Raymond in the field; we neither of us know, certainly, 
 that he will go into the army ; though even with the cer- 
 tainty that I should meet him face to face, yet would I not 
 
 10 
 
2 1 8 TEE MONTANA S. 
 
 fail in doing what I feel to be my duty in the matter." He 
 bowed his head upon his hands, and wept! In all our 
 lives toa:ether, I had never seen hira thus moved. lie was 
 a child still in his feeling for her who had been a mother 
 to us two, who were orphans. Clyde Ingram stood not 
 now among the stars above me ! By nature, he was not 
 cold, but tender and gentle as a woman. 
 
 " Oh ! my children, I have lived too long ! IIow can I 
 bear this last great agony ! " It was, indeed, very hard to 
 bear, though many women have borne this and more — 
 their hearts lying in the dust beneath the grinding wheel 
 of Revolution ; awaiting the Almighty hand which alone 
 can raise them up ! 
 
 Miss Phoebe motioned us to leave the room; Clyde 
 stepped into the veranda. I followed him tremblingly, 
 for I had begun to realize there could be no wavering in 
 his course now ; upon the only ground which appeared 
 tenable, I resolved to stand by him even to the last issue. 
 He seemed to possess an innate recognition of my deter- 
 mination, for he took both my hands in his, saying very 
 tenderly : 
 
 " Did you come to comfort me, Jennie ? I have far more 
 need of it than ever before ; I am so weary ! Oh ! if you 
 could only have found for me a resting-place in that great 
 heart of yours, I should not feel so utterly alone and deso- 
 late in my sorrow now. Why could you not love me, 
 Jennie, when I have loved you always so dearly, even 
 though you would never let me tell you so." 
 
 Gracious heavens ! the sky had unfurled banners of broad 
 brio-ht blue ! The niorht was ended, perfect day had burst 
 upon us. There was no lonely sea with the solitary ship 
 ploughing through its watery heart ; only the music of my 
 brio-ht river as it bore down from the first days of this 
 
THE MONTANAS. 219 
 
 hope ! I saw no crimson tides staining its current in the 
 morning of the new existence into which I had suddenly- 
 been launched. This sensation, however, was only momen- 
 tary ; when I raised my eyes to heaven, I saw the stars 
 burning dimly, and the moonbeams fell with a cold flicker 
 that was strangely unreal, though I scarce noticed these 
 in my eagerness to tell him all ; nothing should keep the 
 knowledge from him now ! I commenced, excitedly : 
 
 " Clyde, for long years I have," 1 heard some one 
 
 speak my name ! I turned as Retta Austin came upon 
 the veranda in search of me. She bore a summons for us 
 to the parlor. We could make no reasonable excuse for 
 failing to comply, so she remained with us until we joined 
 our friends below. Neither upon this occasion were spoken 
 words of explanation that might have made us happy I or 
 at least have saved us from days and nights of pain that 
 followed. 
 
 CHAPTER XY. 
 
 •* Easier vrere it to force the rooted mountain from its base, 
 Than force the yoke of slavery on men determined to be free 1 " 
 
 SOIJTHEY. 
 
 There was a gay company assembled in the drawing-room ; 
 how handsome Clyde was ! How princely he appeared 
 besider the flippant young men whose thoughts ranged no 
 higher than the badges worn to designate their respective 
 ranks. There was Ella Soule, Lane, and Gerald Austin, 
 with their sister Miss Retta ; who, as usual, commenced her 
 garrulous tirade the moment we entered the room. 
 
 " We have not seen you for an age ; Colonel Ingram — 
 
220 THE MONTANAS. 
 
 how kind of you to refresh us with one first, last sight of 
 your handsome face before going into the field. The first 
 glimpse, as I said before, for an age ! The last, perhaps for 
 ever ! Jennie, you are not too much of a Yankee, I trust, 
 to admit that he is looking magnificently in his uniform — 
 grey with scarlet trimmings," she added, turning to me. 
 
 " My opinion would afi*ect him very little ; he is not the 
 least vain of his rank, and would prefer waiting until he 
 has earned" 
 
 — " Hanging at the hands of the Federal authorities," sug- 
 gested Milverton mischievously, concluding my sentence 
 in a manner entirely foreign to the original design. " Your 
 pardon. Miss Jennie ; be kind enough to conclude your 
 speech, for the benefit of all. * Until he has earned ' " 
 
 " The appellation of Colonel. ^ATien I lived North, it 
 was not our fashion to deny to any indi^ddual a distinction 
 to which his conduct entitles him, even if that be the 
 one which Mr. Milverton supplied ; though I sincerely hope 
 the last named dignity may be conferred upon those better 
 fitted to sustain and enjoy it. I should really feel sorry 
 were I expected to designate all my old friends by some 
 military title ; though this war now pending is a fortunate 
 circumstance for men who before in the social status were 
 decidedly below par ! " 
 
 *' For examples. Lane and Gerald," suggested Retta ma- 
 liciously. " Ella and I drove out to Brightland one after- 
 noon to see the regiment drill ; it did splendidly ; though 
 if our embryo heroes would only forget their dignity when 
 off duty ! Our young men have inaugurated a system of 
 drilling and attitudinizing before the parlor mirrors. You 
 should see them, Jennie ; it would amuse you infinitely." 
 
 " Ah, poor fellows ! " Milverton said, with patronizing 
 pity in his tones. " Once in the field there will be little 
 
THE MONTAKAS. 221 
 
 leisure for that sort of amusement. Perhaps the Yankees 
 will cure them of vanity, by depri\dng them of these little 
 luxuries. One or two hard rubs will take the polish from 
 their idea of the service ; the time they were wont to be- 
 stow upon their mustachios they will learn to devote to 
 their fire-arms. Life at a post, in quarters, is delightful pas- 
 time; more charming than lying down to sleep, after a 
 supper on hard-tack and bacon, with the enemy's shells 
 bursting in your camp, setting fire to your commissary stores, 
 and pirouetting gracefally about your ears. The Yankees 
 are reserving for you petted sons of wealth many of these 
 delightful entertainments." 
 
 "I am sure they are welcome, and will get value received 
 for all the favors they choose to confer," Gerald answered 
 pettishly, his black eyes flashing defiant fire. " I am long- 
 ing to show them of what material our Southern army is 
 composed; and to teach those who talk enthusiastically 
 about crushing the rebellion, as though it were the easiest 
 thing in the world accomplished, that there are human 
 hearts piled up; these are its bulwarks of strength; let 
 them try, they will feel constrained to charge their abolition 
 President a pretty extravagant price for the task before it 
 is complete. We will see that he pays it. You may ex- 
 pect to hear glorious accounts of us soon ; true, as they 
 plead, we are unaccustomed to hardships ; our men were 
 not raised to the profession of arms ; but we can fight if 
 necessary. We are ready and willing to do what we can ; 
 our allegiance and service are free as air ; we can set no price 
 on these, for our hearts are in the work. For a cause so 
 glorious we are ready to sacrifice any and everything ! " 
 
 It was on my lips to ask " what cause? " but a glance at 
 Clyde's calm white face prevented me. Retta spoke instead : 
 
 " Were I Lane and yourself I should reserve my boasting 
 
222 THE MOKTANAS. 
 
 until the close of the war ; it is much easier to anticipate 
 results than to face causes and work them out ! " 
 
 "More especially such piercing causes as the enemy's 
 bullets may chance to prove," suggested Clyde. " I agree 
 with Miss Retta and the great poet, who bids us — 
 
 ' " Learn to labor and to wait." 
 
 Wait ! for how long ? Until the war is over ; until the 
 seceded States are subjugated; until that high wall of living, 
 throbbing human hearts is battered down ? Ah, what then 
 would they do with an unloving people ? Unloving they 
 were in all that Southern land ; for long months I had heard 
 no voice upraised for our country's constitution and her 
 flag; the blood-bought banner that had . sheltered and pro- 
 tected them by land and sea for prosperous years. And 
 those too were silent whose fathers had fouo-ht for it once, 
 I could look out from the parlor window and behold the 
 site of a battle-ground where it was planted January 8th, 
 1812. But they had torn it down, and trampled upon its 
 constellations ; had come out from its shining folds ; and 
 now talked of stabbing the Government, as though they 
 were really doing the age and the country a service. Even 
 the voice of my love was stilled in the sense of double, 
 treble crime, the expressions of which I heard almost con- 
 stantly. I could only await the momentous crisis. 
 
 I said there was no voice upraised for the old flag. Ah, 
 there was one ; over weary miles it came ; like the chime of 
 silver bells the tones rang out upon this night of treason. 
 Lane Austin said : 
 
 " Well, Colonel, at your solicitation I wrote to my friend 
 Raymond, off"eriug him the opportunity of filling an impor- 
 tant vacancy in our regiment. You shall have the decision 
 
THE MONTANAS. 223 
 
 in his own words. I will read an extract from liis letter of 
 recent date which came to-day : 
 
 " ' Say to my brother Clyde, it is kind of him to consider 
 me ; even though I cannot for an instant think of accepting 
 it. God knows how deep is my gTief that he has done this 
 thing. Between us it will be the subject of recurrence 
 frequent of pain and bitterness, the existence of which was 
 hitherto unknown ; it will build a ban'ier that may be 
 eternal, for, livdngf cr dvino;, I shall never falter in the course 
 which I hold to be right, and I hope that my strong right 
 arm may become palsied the instant I dare to lift it against 
 the old flag. Should I ever fight, so help me Heaven, in 
 accordance with every vaster consideration, I will leave all, 
 to strike for God and for country under its stars.'' " 
 
 For an instant, still as the grave was the night of treason 
 and fierce rebellion that had closed about me ! Then I be- 
 held something, floating, flaming in the higher air : Ah ! it 
 was our banner, set clear in the unclouded heaven, held by a 
 hio-her hand than man's ! and its glorious stars were shinino-, 
 no blight upon their lustre, no dimness in the folds that 
 held them, no blood or blight upon the strong standard : 
 but a white wreath of victory woven from the crushed 
 flowers of dead brave hearts, who nurtured liberty with 
 their last drop of life beneath those constellations of our 
 country, who had stood and fallen, died under those stars 
 of God's and the nation's. "Was our boy, whose words came 
 to us from afar, whose radiance beamed around us every- 
 where, of all their glorious brightness the one solitary Ray ? 
 Ah ! in the light of morning, in the clear moon-times, in the 
 darkness of succeeding doubts, that flag was still there, 
 flaming high in the sky of my heart ! try as T would I could 
 not shut my eyes against it, even though love, stern dictator, 
 made me try. Those stars upon our banner, like those I 
 
224 THE MONTANAS. 
 
 bad counted in the heavens that bent above my youth, 
 seemed constantly peering into my soul to see if the old 
 feeling for them was there. Slowly from day to day into 
 that self-same heart grew the conviction that fate and 
 country had set their final seal upon the vast, immutable 
 silences that were in it. Perhaps for Clyde or for me death 
 with his icy fingers might unclasp them, but now — wider 
 and wider grew the space between us ; further and further 
 apart our lives were drifting. Ah ! should we two, when 
 the battle was ended, pass over the silent way, and at the 
 portals of God's peace stand firm together to part no more ? 
 
 It was a relief when they took their leave. Clyde Ingram 
 should carry with him into the broad field no knowledge 
 of my love. In that moment of bitterness I could have re- 
 nounced him for ever ; him who for years had claimed me 
 silently, and I had loved him with a love that left me no 
 words to tell it. Words were not required to dissever an 
 unspoken bond. Thus let it be, was the fiat of my heart; 
 though next instant, crushed by the weight of its own re- 
 solve, it was powerless to act as a bird within bars. 
 
 I stood upon the veranda long after the carriage had 
 passed out of sight, these maddening thoughts filling heart 
 and brain. The cold night breeze came up pityingly from 
 the distant sea, far lying bathed in shining mist beneath moon 
 and stars. It was the same picture I had looked on in 
 childhood when Clyde was by my side ; now he was far 
 away from me and from that old time. I heard his im- 
 patient cough on the veranda above, and knew that he too 
 was keeping heart-'v^gil over a dead past. Oh ! why had 
 these legions come between us now that our love was no 
 longer intangible and undefined? I went to my chamber, 
 but not to sleep. I heard Clyde pacing his. How long I 
 lay there I know not, I was only conscious that something 
 
THE MONT ANAS. 225 
 
 great and momentous was happening. I heard suppressed 
 voices speaking quickly ; then a light footstep crossed the 
 room, and Stanley stood beside me at the open window ; 
 there was a cold dew upon my face, and mist was dripping 
 from my hair. 
 
 " Oh ! Jennie," she exclaimed, " do you not know mother 
 is dying? come to her quickly." I flew with Stanley ex- 
 citedly to Aunt Edith's room. Clyde was there before me, 
 kneeling just as he had done early in the evening. There 
 were bright crimson stains upon the snowy counterpane, 
 and Miss Phoebe wiped the blood drops from her pale, still 
 lips. It was thus we passed the night; physician and 
 watchers spoke no word until we saw that she slept from 
 utter exhaustion; then we saw a look of peace come over 
 her features ! there was a rustle as of angels' wings in the 
 air about us ! Aunt Edith's soul had crossed the blood- 
 stained river to the other shore. 
 
 It was a quiet, beautiful death ! I thought of another death 
 afar back in the years, and how I, a child, had looked out 
 upon the stars and tried to count them, thougji countless 
 they were as sands upon the sea. Oh ! stars of evening in 
 that youth-time, bright and glowing, oh ! blighted stars 
 upon our flag, and thou eternal sea ! with thoughts of this 
 •pure beautifal death coexisted thoughts of thee. Death! 
 was this death ? ah ! yes, it came to us with our first gar- 
 ments, and shall continue unchanged until the heavens shall 
 be rolled together as a scroll ! Thank God for death, since 
 through death comes immortality. Those remembered 
 words came to me with a pulse of promise for her who had 
 crossed the crimson current that was coursing through our 
 land. I thought of what one of the characters in Titan had 
 said to the old man who was praying under a gathering 
 tempest, though he knew it not. • 
 
 10* 
 
226 TEE MONTANA S. 
 
 "Pray on, thou man of God, to the all-gracious ! and go 
 to sleep before the storm comes on^ Thank " the all-gracious," 
 she Nvas spared the pain of seeing her home with its flowers 
 laid waste in the battle-storm which shook all homes and 
 hearts to their centre. Had the power been mine to charm 
 that mother back whose life-task in this world was ended, 
 I should have said let her rest in peace, which is denied to 
 us as a nation and as individuals. What a change in our 
 household since the previous evening ! Clyde had come 
 back, the mother was gone ! a few fluttering breaths had 
 passed, a heart had ceased to beat ! in that little space half 
 the world seemed to have changed to us. Ah, Death ! hadst 
 thou not enough to slake thy unrelenting thirst upon the 
 gory fields outstretched in the land? 
 
 But this was no stem-faced death ; it w^as a calm \dsage, 
 garnished with fair sweet flowers. Many who loved her 
 came with soft tread and lingered by the sleeper, until one 
 sorrowful morning she was taken away from us, and then 
 a long dark file wound over the road to the cemetery. 
 From her magnificent home Aunt Edith had gone to bide 
 in a narrow house, such as the wife of Captain Bob Eldridge, 
 my father and mother, had occupied for many silent years. 
 Aunt Dinah came up to arrange and close up the vacant 
 room. She held m her hand a large bunch of keys. m 
 
 " I wonder who will take care of these now," she said, 
 piteously, between broken sobs ; " old miss will never want 
 em enny more — never, enny more." 
 
 " No, no," I answered consolingly ; " there are no locked 
 doors in heaven. Aunt Dinah." 
 
 " Miss Jennie, do you blieve dare is enny slaves in dat 
 heaven where missus is f " 
 
 '■^ Not as slaves 1 We are told that in God's kingdom 
 there is neither ' Jew nor Gentile — bond or free.' " 
 
THE MONTANAS. 221 
 
 Next mor.iing it was arranged tliat the family, including 
 Milverton and Miss Phoebe, should go, within a fortnight, 
 to Raymond's. We were to leave Uncle Montana, with the 
 ser\^ants, at Claremont. For days we pleaded to be permit- 
 ted to stay in the house, even with the vacant place there — 
 by the new-made grave, but uncle and Clyde were deaf to 
 our petitions. Our preparations were made with a view to 
 procuring passes to go North, which we succeeded in ob- 
 taining with much difficulty. Little did we think, on taking 
 leave, how many weary months would elapse before we saw 
 our home ascain. We had bid adieu to every shrub and 
 tree ; to flowers, fountains, and the outstretched sea-, we 
 had taken our places in the car as on the morning of our first 
 northward journey ! Now there was no mother face to look 
 a last, fond farewell through the gathering space ! she was 
 sleeping as the storm came on. AAHien we passed Bright- 
 land, for the bitterness and sorrow in my heart I could not 
 lift my eyes to see the Southern banner floating there. 
 Apart and gloomy I saw a solitary figure stand ! a white 
 kerchief fluttered for an instant in the morning air : then 
 the distance swiftly widened, and I began keenly to realize 
 all that I w^as doing. Henceforth Clyde Ingram was my 
 country's enemy. We should never, never meet again until, 
 perchance, we should stand at the one little gate when all 
 w^as over ; and from ways that were many and wide, 
 though their dust was stained wdth gore, we should come to 
 bathe our souls in the fountain of love eternal. 
 
 In charge of Mr. Milverton we got on well. At the ex- 
 piration of the fifth day three black-robed figures took 
 silently their places at Raymond's board. His fair wife did 
 the honors through her tears, when Ala Ray came to her, 
 and in her Uttle, clear tones inquired why " dandma " had 
 not come with us ? Then w^e aU broke down and wept — 
 
228 * THE MONTANA S. 
 
 not more for the dead than to miss Raymond from the head 
 of his usual cheerful table. But the battles of our country 
 must be fought, and we will lay no cowardly, poltroon hearts 
 upon her shrine in this her hour of straggle. I recalled 
 Moore's glorious lines — 
 
 " Oh, if there be on this earthly sphere — 
 A boon, an offering heaven holds dear, 
 'Tis the last libation Uberty draws, 
 From a heart that bleeds and breaks in her cause." 
 
 In a few days we went to Ridgely. Like rain-drops on 
 thirsty sands, upon our bleeding hearts fell Mr. Kingswell's 
 words of peace and promise. Gradually we came to give 
 Aunt Edith up, and learned to think of other things that 
 were needful to be done in the world's work before us. 
 Ala Ray was to us a perpetual sunbeam of comfort. Day 
 by day she was growing in beauty and sweetness ! her 
 angel nature expanding like a rose beneath dew-kisses of an 
 earthly morning. Never rested the little feet, nor seemed 
 the little tongue to grow weary questioning of the strange 
 things in the world about her. Oh ! how we loved our 
 little darling ! In our idolatry we forgot how Aunt Edith 
 had said, "the golden gates were not closed against Ala 
 Ray." 
 
 In Milverton's first letter after his return to New York, he 
 spoke of the Haynes — of ha\ang been entertained at their 
 house. The wife, after her blonde fashion, was inspiring 
 her usual sensation in theu* social circle. " Hayne," he re- 
 marked, "is magnificently stately, as it appears to him 
 pleasurable at all times to be." I did not show the letter 
 to Stanley ; I inwardly prayed that she might not meet 
 Warren : jtlst now her cross was heavy enough. This was 
 scarcely probable ! his father had leased his summer residence 
 
THE MONTANAS. 229 
 
 in Waybum : there was no reason why Warren should come 
 down there, and Stanley would probably not see him, even 
 in the event of her going to New York. Her bloom and 
 light airy step were coming back. Youth is exuberant, and 
 cannot be wholly extinguished : we gradually rise out of 
 ourselves ! The self that mourned for the lost, the better 
 portion of us, may dwell regretfully with the memory, but 
 there is hard work in life for us all ! and necessity compels 
 us to come out from the shadow-land of grief into God's 
 day. jSTothing will so speedily dispel the cold damps of 
 sorrow from our lot as patient duty-doing. 
 
 I was attacked with a malignant fever during the au- 
 tumn. It was long ere the crisis came. Then, through 
 days of convalescence, I lay in my bed at Ridgely, listen- 
 ing in fancy to the bugle-blast of victory ; but the thought 
 brought no exultation, for I knew how many hearts were 
 bleeding — how many faces growing white and still beneath 
 the blow of death on distant battle-fields. The work of 
 the revolution had beonin in earnest. Letters came fre- 
 
 o 
 
 quently from Ra}Tnond, always cheerful, hopeful for the 
 final issue. But no word from that other hero, nursed 
 near to the same mother-heart, who, beneath scorching 
 suns, toiled on — to what end? Let the future answer. 
 
 The winter came and passed — a long, cold, northern 
 winter. We thought the spring would never come,- but 
 it did, at length, dotting meadows with cowslips and dai- 
 sies ; and the suns of April broke gloriously into prisms 
 of brightness over the far Nevr Hampshire hill-tops we 
 loved so well. We had begun to grow accustomed to the 
 old void in home and heart, though Stanley grew restive 
 as the summer days lengthened, with nothing special to 
 occupy her time. She fonned a plan for taking a small 
 school in the suburbs of Waybum. Uncle Kingswell 
 
230 THE MONTANA S. 
 
 approved her project, suggesting that it should be an inde- 
 pendent school, in which were taught only the higher 
 branches. lie thought it would prove an advantage as 
 well as a diversion. I was not yet suflScientiy recovered 
 to assist Stanley, even had Raymond sustained her in her 
 undertaking. WTien consulted by letter, he indignantly 
 refused to allow his sister to do anything of the kind, and 
 was actually wounded that she did not esteem herself as 
 he considered her — entirely removed from the necessity of 
 exertion for her support. "What cared he if remittances 
 from New Orleans had ceased to come ? We could remain 
 at Waybum without them, until communication between 
 the sections was reestablished. Stanley appealed to her 
 brother a second time. Her letter ran thus : — 
 
 " My Dear Ray : It is not that I feel myself an incum- 
 brance to you ; it is because Miss Phcebe and myself — 
 since we must remain here — want a little home of our own. 
 Jennie will remain with Mary. Mr. and Mrs. Kings well 
 approve my plan, and will help me to execute it. Now, 
 give me your sanction, and I will be far happier than I 
 have been since our dear mother died." 
 
 Ray could not resist her pleadings ; and so the month 
 of the roses found Stanley at work wdth her school. She 
 and Miss Phoebe had gone to live at the cottage in which 
 my parents died. Mr. Kingswell himself had purchased 
 the property when the formal sale came off, whose man- 
 agement was wholly intrusted to him. 
 
 AVith a heart of poetry within, into what softened curves 
 of grace and beauty grew the rough angles of that cottage 
 home ! Everywhere was visible the magic effect of Miss 
 Phoebe's cleanliness, Stanley's flowers and perfume. "We 
 
THE MONTANAS. 231 
 
 had some delightful reunions within those walls, when Ray- 
 mond came home on his first leave, looking so handsome 
 in his uniform of reo-al blue. 
 
 o 
 
 About this time, I received a letter fi'om Ella Soule, 
 which filled me with secret anxiety. She had sent the 
 letter through by hand ; one paragraph contained a sneer- 
 ing taunt that was entirely unnecessary : — 
 
 " How should you like to see Claremont, Aljean, since it 
 has been transformed into barracks for Yankee soldiers ? 
 I have grown to hate the very sight of a blue-coat recently." 
 
 She went on to tell me many sad things of the sufibrings 
 of friends, but nothing troubled me like this. To think of 
 strange feet trampling down the flowers in our home, where 
 a sainted mother's footfalls yet lingered ; its groves de- 
 spoiled by the profaning touch of a lawless soldiery.; the 
 trail of their devastation within those sacred precincts! 
 I think if any one could bear patiently a reflection of this 
 natm-e, he is possessed of more patriotism than I can 
 boast of. Stanley was wise in acting for herself; we were 
 worse than penniless. She toiled on, however, knowing 
 nothing of this, nor we of Clyde. Oh, what would I not 
 have given for one little word ! But time passed on, and 
 that word came not. 
 
 Still the tempest thickened, falling in blood-drops on the 
 withered earth ! Still the red tides ran swiftly to the crim- 
 son sea, through homes of the North and flowers of the 
 South. The great heart of our nation gi-ew sick and faint 
 with constant gory depletion. Authorities at Washington 
 had ceased to talk so grandly about crushing the rebellion. 
 The plea was often one of resistance ao-ainst the leo-ions 
 that bore down upon our shores, leaving their dead, grim 
 
232 TEE MONTANAS. 
 
 and ghastly, side by side with our own. The record 
 swelled, and the sacrificial list grew longer day by day. 
 The great heart throbbed faster in its agony. 
 
 I sat thinking, darkly, vaguely, of these things one even- 
 ing, as I rocked Ala Eay in my arms. The little thing 
 talked dreamily of her dear papa, and how at nigKt he lay 
 down to sleep under the stars, adding earnestly : " Some 
 of these times I, too, shall go out to sleep under the sters." 
 
 " My darling Ala, what makes you think and talk thus 
 of such things ? " 
 
 " Only because grandma did, you know ; and my papa 
 does so, too." 
 
 I pressed her closely to my heart, and told her how, 
 some day, she would sleep on the breast of her good, kind 
 father. For I felt she was drawing us with her to the little 
 gate where she would take her leave of us. 
 
 Oh, little heart! that loved and twined your blossoms 
 round, and little hands that wove into our coarse and 
 tangled web of daily life the golden threads that bound its 
 meshes to God's throne ! Oh, dewdrop of celestial bright- 
 ness, freshening the blossoms in our earth-worn souls, until 
 they held something of ethereal beauty in their mystic 
 depths ! Oh, little feet, that came from their wanderings 
 amid the heavenly ways, and left your impress upon our 
 wilderness ! Oh, sweet Ala Ray ! What do we not owe 
 to thee, during that dark season, of pure gushing joy here 
 in our world ! We listened to the music of thy little feet 
 along their journey to its close, and then our hearts went 
 with thee, darling, over the starry way, into the unknown 
 land, while the birds sang, and bright waters ran. Then 
 we lived — our body here, soul yonder — during the long 
 night of grief which came after we had laid thee in thy 
 little grave — to sleep under the stars of heaven. 
 
77727 MONTANAS. 233 
 
 Wlien I laid her in her little bed that night, which 
 gathered full of starry shadows, as I had seen many a night 
 in our Southern land ; below in the bosom of the valley 
 lay the town, and the swift river running at the foot of 
 towering hills, whose summits seemed to creep close to the 
 Eternal Throne. With a sure tread of days whose memory 
 would never die, I thought how Clyde and I had once stood 
 tofjether in the lio;ht of a bvffone morninor, with nothinor 
 between us save two children's vague hopes and dreams. 
 Ah ! the sorrow and changes since ! The battle-cry. On to 
 Richmond, struck on my heart like a funeral bell ; crimson 
 tides ran where the golden river flowed ; and the feet that 
 lingered once upon its margin had wandered through a 
 rough wide world since then. The youth in my memory 
 gave gradual place to a man chivalrous and brave, whose 
 breast was bared to the shaft of every friend I had in the 
 Federal army. 
 
 CHAPTER XYI. 
 
 " Farewell I a word that hath been, and must be ; 
 A sound that makes us linger — yet farewell." 
 
 Shakespeabs. 
 
 Stanley was succeeding well with her school ; God had 
 been pleased to turn the hearts of her pupils in love towards 
 their teacher ; she was very happy in her own home. 
 " Oh ! " she said to me once, " the rare luxury of being 
 alone ; of going down into the hidden places of one's own 
 heart and learning the needs of our higher natures, fathoming 
 our capacity for enduring all that life off'ers, be it joy or 
 sorrow. I would not exchange this little domicile, with Miss 
 
234 THE MONT AN AS. 
 
 Phoebe to pamper and care for me,. for the elegant eai^e of 
 Ridgely or Raymond's more costly surroundings. I love 
 to be near you all ; I should be wretched if I could not see 
 you daily ; but there are times when I like best to be all 
 alone ; I rely more upon myself, and feel my dependence on 
 God more." 
 
 " I think we all come to do that when we grow acquainted 
 with the world as it is. After successive disappointments 
 and humiliations we come to seek in our own thought all 
 that lay so vast and far away. I would by no means 
 depreciate the high and holy privilege of holding intercourse 
 with our fellow-beings ; but, as men and women, we are 
 never quite happy unless we can come out from the social 
 world and find within ourselves the truest resources of 
 happiness. Though there was a time when my little St,anley 
 was not the philosopher she is now." 
 
 She started, fixmg her eyes keenly upon my face ; the words 
 struck her; she had not forgotten how Warren Hayne once 
 called her thus. She smiled a smile, bitter, yet serene, half 
 of memorv, half of hope; a hope that had its origin in 
 higher things than the fleeting promises of youth, which 
 after time rarely fulfils ; then answered me in the words of 
 an unknown poet : 
 
 " I have grown wise ; the disciplines and trials 
 Through which I have passed, with bitter groans and tears, 
 Were but the shadows ou God's goldeu dials, 
 Pointing me onward to serener years." 
 
 She had gained them, but would this calmness stand the 
 trial test ? I question : 
 
 " Darling, you are so young to give up the world thus. 
 Does it hold nothing for you ? how do you appropriate the 
 lono" hours apart from your routine of duty spent in solitude 
 and lonehuess ? " 
 
THE MONTANAS. 235 
 
 " I ask you, Aljean, what life would be expected to retain 
 for me more tliaii duty, wlien its crowu of hope lay in the 
 dust until the spirit-hand of a higher hope and life re-adjusted 
 it upon a brow w^here the thorn- wreath sat; true, I spend 
 lono- hours in solitude, but not in loneliness ; I will show 
 you how I fill them up." 
 
 She took from her desk a manuscript copy of poems, blush- 
 ing timidly as I caught them from her reluctant hand. On and 
 on I read ; the beautiful thoughts, so elegantly chaste, were 
 couched in language purely her own. Exquisite fancies 
 trooped about me as I read my -sister's heart there in those 
 mirrors of the mind, in which I saw her glorious soul reflected, 
 all radiant and glowing with the impress of Deity. I knew 
 her then ; I clasped her to my heart ; the electric chain of 
 eternal sisterhood was vibrating between us, as it would 
 never cease to do henceforth; oh, howl loved her! In 
 my enthusiasm I exclaimed : 
 
 " I would give worlds, Stanley, to be able to write like 
 this!" 
 
 " There is this difference ; you live your poetry — ^I write 
 mine." 
 
 A few tender words at parting ; I walked thoughtfully 
 down the grassy home-road in the glistening sunshine, 
 leaving her to herself; there was no society that could 
 afford her such joy as these quiet communings with her 
 own sublime and glorious soul. This was the woman whose 
 love Warren Hayne had ti-ifled away with capricious pride, 
 had bartered for the gold of her rival. Ah, well ! he had 
 taken much less from her than she claimed from him ; she 
 could look down upon him from heights which he could 
 never attain ; for he wandered not from the shorn avenues 
 of society. I was thinking of my cousin Warren, little 
 dreaming how soon we should meet again. 
 
236 THE MONT ANAS. 
 
 On the afternoon succeeding I sought Stanley, to have 
 her accompany me to my old haunt on the hillside. Miss 
 Phoebe informed me that she was already there, and Mr. 
 Hayne ha\TLng called in her absence, she had sent him to 
 seek for her in that locaUty. 
 
 " Cousin Warren I " I exclaimed with astonishment ; " he 
 here, — how long since he arrived?" 
 
 " He returned from Paris the first of the month, though 
 he only arrived in Wayburn an hour ago." 
 
 Very moody and reflective, I took my way to the landing, 
 untied the little painted skiff, and crossed the river to the 
 opposite shore ; then climbed the narrow pathway along 
 the steep hillside until I came to a level space several hun- 
 dred feet above the stream. I sat me down beside a cool 
 spring beneath the shadow of a grand old tree — the same 
 tree under which Clyde and I rested on the occasion of our 
 first pilgrimage to this spot. I was thinking of it when a 
 voice — sweet, plaintive — familiar to that old time, broke on 
 the stillness and found its echo in my heart. It was Stanley 
 singing. I wondered if Clyde, amid the din of distant bat- 
 tles, ever thouo-ht of her or of me now ? I should have orone 
 to her had I not beheld Cousin Warren ascending the steep, 
 with a gloomy eagerness in his manner that I never ob- 
 served before, even in the days of keenest suffering. I 
 knew there was something on his mind, in his thought, 
 which he felt it needful to speak ! that he sought Stanley 
 here for the purpose of seeing her alone. Though the 
 undergrowth was profuse, I could not change positions with- 
 out discovering to them my locality, thus preventing the 
 intendew : so I sat quite still, because I wanted that she 
 and Cousin Warren should at last come to understand each 
 other. I knew that he would be happier if such were the 
 case ; and it was only just to each that it should be so. I 
 
THE MOXTANAS. 237 
 
 knew that Stanley Montana could never come down from 
 her proud heights of prmciple to wrong his wife, even if 
 the one's place had been given to the other. What had 
 that civil contract, called marriage, that was loveless, to do 
 with soul-bonds that were for time and eternity ? Warren 
 realized this when he spoke. 
 
 "I learned from Milverton all I know concerning you*, 
 he told me of the confiscation of your property, which was 
 a cruel wrong. When I learned that you were teaching for 
 a livelihood, knowing that your brother and Ingram were 
 in the separate armies, I could not rest until I came to you : 
 the reflection cut me to the soul. You, Stanley — young 
 and beautiful — working at such toilsome business ! I can- 
 not tell why vour friends allow it." 
 
 " My friends here do not regard this fatile effort on my 
 part to sustain myself, as a degradation in any sense what- 
 ever. It was my own plan ; many of them approved it ; 
 my brother did not, though he never thwarted me in his 
 life. My course was sanctioned by conscience, and that is 
 the highest authority to which an orphan girl can appeal. 
 The age is so full of work now, — sorrowing work for unwil- 
 hng hands, and burdens for hearts that are bleeding ! I 
 should esteem myself miserably selfish if I bore no portion. 
 Like the Prisoner of Chillon, I have learned to love my 
 toils — ' my chains and I are friends.' I appreciate all your 
 delicate considerateness, Mr. Hayne, but there is nothing 
 except kindness I can receive at your hands. Do not tempt 
 me to change my decision ; I am certain your respect for 
 me will impel you to hold sacred the refusal of an offer 
 made through sincere disinterestedness. I will do you the 
 justice to believe naught else could have induced it." 
 
 He answered her in a grieved tone ; I could hear his 
 voice tremble as he said : 
 
23 S TnE MOXTAXAS. 
 
 " Thank you ! respect is a very cold word : but if it is 
 the term you prefer, I will adopt it. But just now — hold- 
 ing you more sacredly, reverently, than ever before — I feel 
 the time to be at hand when I must and will speak. When 
 you were encircled by the peerless anus of society, I could 
 look upon you unmoved, though I saw you day by day, 
 young, beautiful, beloved by all. I will not say how one 
 whose love you scorned, whose praise you set at naught, 
 worshipped you more than any. Ah ! you refuse to hear 
 the story ? well, it would not interest you ; the time is long 
 past ; you have eschewed alike the passion and the memory 
 of it. It is of other things I will speak now ! other con- 
 siderations are involved ; commonplace ones of comfort 
 have arisen, instead of the many things that have flown 
 from you since then ; there is little left ! I wish to replace 
 a small portion of what others have taken away. You must 
 and shall hear me through." 
 
 She put back the words with an impatient gesture ; half 
 the ardor of her Southern nature flashed in the answer she 
 gave. 
 
 " And I say that I will not hear you ! Were I starving, 
 Warren Hayne, I should accept no aid from you. Our 
 conversation should end just here ; in truth it never should 
 have begun." 
 
 How that girl could speak thus to him, while her 
 proud soul, thus racked and tortured, lay underneath his 
 feet, is more than I can tell. Oh, world ! for thee what will 
 not mortals dare and do ! Warren answered impatiently : 
 
 " Stanley, you will drive me mad ! That you have not 
 done so long ere this, was not owing to any omission in 
 your effort. God knows how you have taxed and tried 
 me ; but let it pass ; if the love on which I staked my life 
 could awaken no answering throb, it were vain to expect 
 
THE MONT ANAS. 239 
 
 that you would sympatliize witli the sorrow grown out of 
 that early season of grief." 
 
 He bowed do\\Ti his head, his form shaking with sup- 
 pressed feeling, as she spoke again : 
 
 " Were it not for the ban upon your lips and life, which 
 I would have you respect more than aught else, I should 
 ask you to explain the meaning of your strange words of 
 accusation ? But now, there are griefs of my own which 
 I would implore you to consider if you know how much 
 I have suffered. For the sake of all that is past, which 
 I have not forgotten, I ask you to leave me ! What would 
 the world say ? Would it not cavil that you have offered 
 me, an unfortunate woman, the means of support ? " 
 
 " For God's sake desist ! Is the world capable of sitting 
 in judgment respecting my emotions and feelings, which 
 it cannot know ? "Then, for the sake of one who loved 
 and suffered before me, parade not the edict of that faith- 
 less thing. I hate it. I have as little respect for myself as 
 for other votaries who have worn its liveiy and become its 
 minions." 
 
 " And yet," added Stanley, " we hold society to be in- 
 fallible ! It is the world's voice, and we dare not disobey. 
 Who has sufficient courage to brave the displeasure of that 
 kingly autocrat, lynx-eyed, serpent-tongued ?" 
 
 " / have ! Society is not the world at large ! It is the 
 league of a fortunate few whom birth and position have 
 placed beyond the range of circumstances ; who look upon 
 life from a stand-point far removed from its casualties, who 
 presume to make laws for a portion of humanity whose 
 toils and struggles they have never felt." 
 
 "God's law is the groundwork of society," humbly 
 suggested Stanley. 
 
 " So it is, or was originally. However, there have been 
 
240 THE MONTANAS. 
 
 ■wide deviations from the original standard and structure ; 
 religion deteriorated ! Did the great Father intend that 
 institutions of church, designed to perpetuate his love for 
 humanity, should become as walls of granite to keep the 
 poor and suffering out? When on earth, did He fill his 
 temples with high-priests and judges, and empower them 
 to make laws for the transgressor? "What but 'those in- 
 ■stitutions have peopled insane asylums, and shut an iron 
 gate against the wayward and the erring ? Does not this 
 same system set a cold hard heel upon every generous 
 impulse, and ascribe self-interest to every pure motive ? 
 The world does this — the social world — the religious world ! 
 Not the lower million of humanity, but the world, with 
 whose opinions and mandate you taunt me." 
 
 She answered slowly yet firmly : 
 
 " You are severe, Mr. Hayne ; religion is not confined to 
 the observance of any formula, or embodied by an institu- 
 tion ! It is simply an intuitive recognition of God in the 
 heart. Society has doubtless deteriorated, grow^n austere 
 and exclusive ! Yet in many instances within and without 
 the church we find those who estimate life the weighty 
 thing it is ; who generously commend every struggle tend- 
 ing towards the consummation of its purposes ; who look 
 charitably on those wandering from the right — the feeling 
 world, I meant. But it is not the world that stands be- 
 tween us to-day, at whose mandate we parted, a parting 
 that came like -winter to my southern home. I am glad you 
 have learned its faithlessness since then ! though all the 
 while you conned this lesson, the tides, mighty and vast, 
 were coming in between our lives, and the space growing 
 wider there ! Your friendly feet, even, may not cross it 
 now; my heart is yet sick and sore; the smiter's hand 
 was very careless, you know." 
 
THE MONTANAS. 241 
 
 " Stanley, will you speak plainly ? Your words are more 
 cutting, from the fact that they are mystical. I, who have 
 so much cause for complaint, could never be brought to 
 speak thus to you. It is enough that you reject so bitterly 
 my proposition of aid ! Yet I will bear this patiently as 
 I have borne other things before ; only take that barrier 
 from your thought, say that it is gone ; this life is only a 
 little day, and the evening shades are gathering fast ; then 
 there is the great to-morrow of eternity. Say not this 
 gi'eat suffering must endure for ever ; consent that we shall 
 be friends — true to ourselves and to each other, steadfast 
 evermore." 
 
 " The decision was your own, Warren ; you must abide it. 
 I repeat, all the great world stands between us; its tides 
 have ebbed and flowed ever since my orange wreath was 
 left to wither by the southern fountain. I have lingered 
 on and on, have breasted tempests that were not so hard 
 to endure as the hopeless calms. One by one the strong 
 cords were rent asunder and the lights went out. Very 
 sick of heart, I sought to prove myself, to try my own 
 resources ; I am stronger and , happier in the effort. De- 
 lights of the mind are the only pleasures that do not leave 
 us, when most we value them. When you grow discon- 
 tented with your world, Warren, your world — you loved it 
 once ; open the windows of your own mind and soul ! "God's 
 light will come pouring in, revealing many treasures with- 
 in yourself, of tvhich you were unaware. Now, go back 
 to the life you have left ; think not of me, except as one 
 who tries to be brave, bearing her cross hopefully, patiently. 
 Yes, you may think of me occasionally as sitting in the 
 sunshine of a far-off time when there was between us two 
 no mist and space ; no faded wreath or broken trust." 
 
 " For God's sake, Stanley, let us not part thu«, without 
 
 U 
 
242 THE MOKTANAS. 
 
 one word to sweep away this horrid phantom of formless 
 change which has pursued me since we parted." 
 
 " Warren, I perceive there has been misunderstanding 
 and misconstruction, which no words of ours can alter 
 now; it is due to your lawful wife that neither should 
 speak them — hence my silence. Now, farewell; nothuig 
 remains — that word is spoken." 
 
 There was a rustling in the sunshine of snowy drapery 
 and falling curls, then she was gone. The brightness went 
 with her. AMien he ceased to hear the music of her tones 
 — so long silent — he unconsciously stretched forth his 
 hands, as he sat there, powerless to move or to think. 
 All his loving, pain, and struggle bore down upon him in 
 that bitter moment, when Stanley left him thus. I rose to 
 meet her as she came up the steep ; she fell into my arms, 
 uttering a sharp wail of anguish. The time was come to 
 tell her all I knew. I spoke swiftly, certain of my ground. 
 
 " Stanley, my darling, do not take the responsibility upon 
 yourself of so burdening a human heart. Wan'en Hayne 
 loves you — has loved you all the time ; some one intercept- 
 ed your correspondence. Your letters and his were pur- 
 loined by traitor hands ; others substituted in their places. 
 I have known this for a long time ; that is why I wanted 
 you to wear his pearls — ^the bridal gift, purchased in good 
 faith for you ; he would not allow another to wear them, 
 because, he said, they were yours, though he believed you 
 untrue. He has generously forgiven what he deemed per- 
 fidy in yourself. He has waived every consideration involv- 
 ing untruth on your part, suffering on his. He has offered 
 you his friendship ; accept it. Make peace with him ; take 
 the thorn out of his heart, darling. Come with me ; speak 
 words of comfort to Warren." 
 
 There was a strange brilliancy, as of dehght, in her beau- 
 
THE MONTANAS. 243 
 
 tiful eyes. After believing our idols fallen, it is so sweet 
 to find them occupying an exalted niche in the great tem- 
 ple of human destiny, even though they be high above us, 
 where love can never reach them. We came down the 
 hillside path to where Warren sat wrapped in gloomy 
 reflection. I laid my hand upon his shoulder, speaking 
 very gently : 
 
 " Do not think harshly of her ; she has good reason to 
 be severe. All along she has believed you false. She 
 received no written word from you, until the intelli- 
 gence, couched in one brief, cold letter, informing her of 
 your intended marriage. We thought you had deserted 
 Stanley on learning she was not the heiress you believed 
 her. I have proved my trust in your further generosity by 
 telling you these things. I do not believe you will ever 
 betray her, or impart to any human being your knowledge 
 of them. Stanley has always been true to you." Bright- 
 er grew the light on his face as I spoke. He took her little 
 hand, kissed it reverently, as if it were a holy thing — 
 saying over and over : 
 
 " Ah, poor little heart, it was true to me, thanJc God I " 
 Then he told us how, after leaving Claremont, he had writ- 
 ten all his lover-heart out to Stanley, and had waited long 
 months for an answer, which never came — only a letter 
 from Retta Austin to Miss Strawbridge, announcing her 
 intended marriage with Clyde Ingi-am, adding : " My man- 
 tna-maker is engaged in preparing Miss Montana's elegant 
 trousseau." We saw it all. Retta Austin, without promot- 
 ing in the slightest degree the purpose for which she dis- 
 pensed wdth her integrity, had succeeded in keeping two 
 fond hearts apart. I was glad it was all explained away, 
 the haunting mystery. The world could not appreciate the 
 need of such a conference, and must not know it ; but there 
 
244 THE MONTANAS. 
 
 is no shame in love that is pure and stedfast. We should 
 only blush for the attribute desecrated and despoiled of its 
 high nature. Between them now there should be "no more 
 bitterness — only fate and dutyy Stanley said bravely, feel- 
 ingly : 
 
 " I can see, now, why this explanation was withheld from 
 us until our aflfection had attained its clearest sight, which 
 reveals to us danger and the prudent way tO avoid it. I do 
 not mean that our love could hold temptation to wrong, but 
 you must respect its mandates, and shield me from the 
 world, from even the semblance of evil." 
 
 We three came down the hillside together. Warren 
 took one boat ; Stanley and I the other. Thus we crossed 
 to the home shore. At her request, we took tea at the 
 cottage. There was a sweet calmness in their manner 
 towards each other. I saw how Warren felt her presence 
 in everything about him. Once in his own surroundings, 
 he would not feel it near so much. But now he certainly 
 realized very keenly what was lost to him in losing her. 
 When he was gone, she said to me : 
 
 " I can bear, Jennie, all that I must. But oh, if he had 
 married some one else ! Some one whom, in time, he 
 might have come to love — who had power to make him 
 happy — I, too, might learn to be content. But when I 
 recall the hungry look of longing on his face, the face that 
 J have seen love-lighted and radiant, I feel my burden is great- 
 er than I can bear — though I must try, for her hands make 
 for him a home, while mine lie listless and idle, unless I 
 strive to do God's work on earth." 
 
 Thus those two took up their separate ways through the. 
 wide world, while their souls and hearts in the presence of 
 the highest Judge were wedded and one. The days wore 
 onward to their close one by one until The summer was 
 
THE MONTANAS. 245 
 
 ended ; the second summer of her soul-life was bound up 
 with treasures time was garnering for her future yonder, 
 where lights of summer never pale. 
 
 We learned from Milverton that Warren had gone abroad 
 with his wife, whose health was failing, We heard almost 
 constantly from Raymond ; never from Clyde, though red 
 autumn came and went. How swift are battle years, how 
 long with agony and waiting; waiting for peace, which 
 comes not untU the twilight of death has closed out the 
 fourth year ! 
 
 CHAPTER XVn. 
 
 " Be thou as chaste as ice, and pure as snow, 
 Thou shalt not escape calumny." 
 
 Shakspeaee. 
 
 Wayburn, like all New England towns, had its Soldiers' 
 Aid Society, which met weekly at the residence of its friends 
 and supporters. A few weeks subsequent to the events 
 detailed in the last chapter, the circle met at Ridgely ; I 
 was sitting in the library with Ala, while she slept; a 
 variety of subjects were under discussion ; Mary was assist- 
 ing her mother in household preparations for the entertain- 
 ment of their guests ; Stanley had promised to come with 
 Uncle Kingswell when school hours were over. I held my 
 breath with profound astonishment when I heard Mrs. 
 Seaman in an adjoining room: 
 
 " I never in all my life was so mistaken in regard to any 
 one; I wonder Mr. KingsweU should seek to hnpose that 
 creature upon his friends." 
 
 "To whom do you refer?" inquired sharp-faced Mrs. 
 
216 THE MOXTAXAS. 
 
 Cummins, in a weasel-voice, her blact eyes twintling witli 
 suppressed curiosity. 
 
 " Can it be possible you have not heard ? — that Stanley 
 Montana who teaches in town." ^ 
 
 " Well, what has she done ? " inquired the squeaking 
 voice. 
 
 " We cannot exactly say what she has done, but we can- 
 not answer for what she hasii't done I" answered malicious 
 Mrs. Seaman, with the air of one who knew little, yet sus- 
 pected a great deal. I remembered that her daughter had 
 been a competitor of Stanley's for the school she had 
 established. Mrs. Seaman added : 
 
 " I never had much opinion of those Southern women ; 
 there is something peculiar about all I ever see." 
 
 Mrs. Cummins's black eyes glanced vindictively as she 
 turned them upon the mild-faced lady who addressed Mrs. 
 Seaman now. 
 
 " If vou know anything derogatory to the character or 
 usefulness of this young female, speak, for my daughters 
 are pupils of hers?" 
 
 " I don't know as it is exactly safe to speak about it here ; 
 the Kinorswells are dreadfully bound up in her. Three or 
 four years ago thev came here first, them two gals and two 
 youno^ men ; young Mr. Montana and another, his nephew 
 I believe he called him. I didn't know as he was any kin 
 to him, though I had often seen him here before. Well, 
 they staved all summer, flying round from one waterin'-place 
 to another ; they were part of the time at Ridgely, during 
 which period young Mr. Hayne, son of Sol Hayne who 
 owns the large place 'twixt here and town, and used to live 
 there in the warm season, saw the one with all those curls, 
 as is now a teachin', and fell in love with her, as she did 
 with him. Oh, they were the lovinest couple you ever see ! 
 
THE MONT AN AS. 247 
 
 To Mrs. Martin's party they wern't apart five blessed minutes 
 tlie wliole evenin'. Then after supper they went out into 
 the garden ; he pulled flowers and put them in her curls, 
 and came leading her in to the parlor mirror, blushin' and 
 simperin' after a ridiculous fashion, to look at herself. I 
 have always tried to teach my daughter better than to go 
 out walkin' with young men after night, even if the moon 
 is a shinin' bright as day ; or walkin' with married men 
 either, for that matter, even though it be over the hills in 
 broad daytime." 
 
 "Why did they not marry ?" inquired meek Mrs. Moore. 
 
 " Well, as I was a goin' to say, I don't think he went as 
 she did that summer, though he certainly followed her home, 
 and was dovrn there a'most all winter; when he came back 
 he told his father they would be married, but he married a 
 lady from Philadelphia instead. When I was in New York 
 that spring after the weddin', Warren's mother told me her 
 son had made a money match. Be that as it may, he's got 
 the other now and ought to stick by her, instead of hunting 
 up old flames to burn his fingers with ! " 
 
 " Might he not have called merely for the sake of old 
 acquaintanceship ? " suggested Mrs. Moore ; though Mrs. 
 Seaman was determined to take no probable y\qw of the 
 case, so she answered somewhat curtly — 
 
 " If he wanted to see her, and she him, which was evi- 
 dent, why did they not go to see one another openly and 
 above-board, instead of meeting secretly on the hill ? Then 
 he came over in another boat to elude suspicion. After 
 haA'ing done all that, he went home with her. Yes, she 
 actually walked through the streets of Waybum with a mar- 
 ried man ! ! ! I saw her with my own eyes. I certainly 
 think one should not be countenanced at all, who could 
 with impunity set such an example to the young girls under 
 
248 TUE MONTANAS. 
 
 her charge. As for myself, I shall show her do favor in 
 future; she can expect nothing from people who pride 
 themselves upon their character for virtue in society." 
 
 Indeed, thought I, it was wonderful ; Mrs. Seaman's sa- 
 gacity in beholding things that were to be seen ! Yet why 
 was she blinded that I was one of the party who walked 
 through the streets of Wayburn with a married man in 
 broad daylight — and that man my cousin, Warren Hayne ? 
 
 " I have often heard that society in Southern cities differs 
 very much from our New England towns. Married people 
 receive and entertain, and go more frequently into company 
 than young people do," ventured Mrs. Moore, timidly. 
 
 " Well ! no wonder there is so much wickedness down 
 there ! — the Gulf States had to break out into rebellion : it 
 was an escape-valve for their licentiousness. I have always 
 heard the land was a perfect Sodom ! I am more inclined 
 than ever to believe it." 
 
 This observation came from a strong-minded female dis 
 ciple of the Greeley school. Mrs. Seaman spoke again : 
 
 " Well, they should not want to introduce Southern 
 fashions^ in a civilized country, where we don't indulge in 
 such abominable practices. It is the fashion down there to 
 hold human critters in bondao^e. But we don't intend to 
 adopt such an ungodly usage in our Christian community. 
 I'll insure it, if the truth was known, young Hayne had 
 good reason for failing to keep his engagement with Stanley 
 Montana. He would have married her if she had been 
 worthy ! for she was pretty enough, and rich enough, too, 
 for that matter, to tempt any man." 
 
 Ah ! how many of that ^drtuous, self-righteous social band 
 
 would have trampled down a sweet voice in their heart, risen 
 
 above temptation, and gone on in the way of duty, as had 
 
 #* that brave young creature, w^hose name they bandied from 
 
TEE MOKTANAS. 249 
 
 venomous lip to lip as though it were a worthless thing 
 — she who stood so far above their commonplace estimates 
 that their foui tong-ues mio;ht never reach her save throuo-h 
 the love of her friends ! Yet was she subject to insult from 
 this virtuous clique. Virtuous because they had never 
 known temptation — harnessed, as they were, to the rack of 
 an every-day routine. I think the spiteful old woman felt 
 this keenly as I did ; it was manifest in her tones as she 
 resumed — 
 
 '• I repeat, it is a scandalous shame that Mr. Kingswell — 
 a deacon in our holy church — should not only suffer himself 
 to be thus imposed upon, but that he should extend the 
 imposition to us. I came here to-day for the express pur- 
 pose of speaking my mind to him." 
 
 He arrived at the moment ; before I could meet them at 
 the front door Stanley had bounded up the steps and was 
 in the parlor. There were Mrs. Mason and Mrs. Jones, who 
 visited her very frequently ; who had actually courted her 
 society : why did they sit there hearing all, upraising no 
 voice in her defence ? When will woman learn to brave 
 censure and be strong in the name of the good Samaritan 
 to defend the right and speak for each other ? Seeing that 
 none of us were in the parlor, she merely bowed to the assem- 
 bled company ; their ominous glances and frozen counte- 
 nances chilled her to the very soul. She withdrew and 
 came to me, her face flushed, her eyes brimming, though 
 she kissed me as usual, saying no word of the palpable insult 
 she had received. 
 
 Tea was announced. When they were seated at table Mrs. 
 Kingswell said, addressing Stanley : 
 
 " My dear, you will preside, will you not ? Ladies, I pre- 
 sume most of you have met Miss Montana? She has 
 promised to attend our circles regularly ere long." 
 
 11* 
 
250 TEE IfOM'ANAS. 
 
 There came no word of answer to this kind speech of the 
 hostess; there was an ominous silence, only broken by two 
 or three affected coughs, a rolling up of Mrs. Cummins's sharp 
 black eyes ; then there was a suppressed groan of virtuous 
 indignation, scarce audible, from Mrs. Seaman. Stanley's 
 cheeks were glowing ; hot drops swam in her eyes as she 
 looked at me piteously. I answered her look significantly; 
 whereupon she excused herself and left the table. I was 
 about to follow her from the room, but Mr. Kingswell 
 checked me by a look that sent the rebellious blood, up- 
 risen in ray face, back to its channels again. Mrs. Seaman 
 cleared her throat once or twice ; I think the manner of our 
 host somewhat disconcerted her; while his unassuming in- 
 tegrity commanded her reverence, it held her in awe. 
 
 " Mr. Kingswell, do you know this young female to whom 
 you have introduced us ? " 
 
 " I do not clearly understand you, madam ; though it is 
 anything but flattering, the intimation that I would recom- 
 mend as instructress of the young people in our place, a 
 person with whom I was not thoroughly acquainted." 
 
 His tones of polite sarcasm cut deep, and the old lady's 
 wrath waxed warmer in proportion. 
 
 " Then I must understand you ; one of the leading men in 
 our community giving countenance and protection to a 
 person whose acts are shameless and disgraceful." 
 
 I was alarmed ! Clyde's uncle was actually growing red 
 with suppressed anger ! Though he controlled himself, and 
 spoke quietly in a low hoarse tone. 
 
 " In what has Miss Montana offended, may I ask ? And 
 upon what ground do you hold her, at an individual tribunal, 
 responsible for said offence, even if she has committed one ? " 
 
 I thought of the great Spirit who said to the woman of 
 Samaria, " Who are thine accusers ? " 
 
THE MONTANAS. 251 
 
 " For the sake of decency and order we hold you re- 
 sponsible for having introduced into our midst a woman 
 who is so lawless as to have secret meetings with an ol4 
 lover; a married man! Is not this sufficient?" 
 
 The old lady was e\ddently disappointed in the effect of 
 her intelligence upon Mr. Kingswell. When the matter as- 
 sumed the form of an accusation against him, he cared very 
 little about it ; now he looked to me for an explanation of 
 the charges preferred against Stanley. I addressed excitedly 
 my vindication to him in their hearing. 
 
 "About three weeks since, as I was going out to walk I 
 paused at the cottage ; on being told by Miss Phoebe that 
 Stanley had gone to our old haunt on the hillside, I lost no 
 time in joining her there ; soon after Mr. Hayne came over ; 
 he had much to tell us of our friends in the South. He said 
 his stay in Wayburn must be short ; his visit there incidental ; 
 so he souorht us out, after finding^ neither of us at home. 
 At our earnest joint solicitation he accompanied us to the 
 cottage and remained for tea. When Mrs. Seaman saw 
 Stanley and cousin Warren walking in the street, / was with 
 them ! She omitted to mention this fact, had forgotten it 
 probably, it was so unimportant an item in making her state- 
 ment to you. I cannot think she would willingly have done 
 so ; her narrative this afternoon, which I chanced to over- 
 hear, was characterized by a disposition to be entirely just.'''* 
 
 " Just ! " he echoed with affable courtesy. " I am glad Mrs. 
 Seaman is so ; I should regret exceedingly to know that my 
 lady friends were otherwise ! or indeed that any should be 
 so. There is nothing so hard for any human heart to bear 
 as injustice ; we should always endeavor to be charitable as 
 well ! but at least we should never faU to be just." 
 
 " We are oftentimes grievously mistaken in our estimates," 
 remarked Mrs. Seaman, thoroughly disconcerted, fallen from 
 
252 THE MONT AN AS. 
 
 her enormous height of fault-finding back upon generalities. 
 She was beaten at her own game, and this was her only ex- 
 cuse for the shameless slander she had perpetrated con- 
 cerning my cousins. 
 
 " Then," said my uncle, " the fault is not ours. If we, 
 in good faith, take by the hand a fellow-mortal, brother or 
 sister, in the great family of humanity ; if they prove un- 
 worthy to be so called, there can be no blame attached to 
 us. We should not crush every generous, social impulse 
 through fear that we might chance to bestow kindness in- 
 judiciously. Our reward shall be the same. God alone 
 can decide. We have no right in this world to say to any 
 man or woman, ' Stand aside, I am holier than thou.' " 
 
 " We can all know what we do not do,^'' shrieked the 
 little shrill voice of Mrs. Cummins, who came opportunely 
 to aid the discomfited Mrs. Seaman. " I for one have 
 always endeavored to live piously and keep the command- 
 ments." 
 
 This was said in a choked voice with an air of injured 
 innocence ; and the black eyes looked round the table for 
 a sympathetic confirmation of her assertion. Mrs. Kings- 
 well now spoke in a calm, clear voice : 
 
 " We are none of us sinless. You say you have kept 
 the commandments ; my friends, how did you dispose of 
 that little injunctiouj * Love thy neighbor as thyself;' have 
 you not worked evil to the injury of my young friend here 
 without knowing her at all I You have condemned her 
 unheard ; your virtual decision has been, * Stand aside, we 
 are holier than thou.' I am less than woman if I raise no 
 voice in justification of her evidently harmless act. Were 
 it as you say, and she was in heart what you aflBrm, in 
 Heaven's name who constituted you her accusers ? My hus- 
 band shall tell you this young girl's story ; then, if you wish, 
 
THE MONTANA S. 253 
 
 you may decide against her, and tliose who are her friends." 
 She looked the noble being she was, the confident assistant 
 of such a husband. Oh ! that of such men and women 
 there were more in the universe ! 
 
 " Her father was a banker in New Orleans, a Union man, 
 and a high-toned gentleman ; when the rebellion broke out 
 his family came north for safety. On the acquisition by 
 Butler and his forces of New Orleans, his property was 
 confiscated with those who were supposed to be antacronis- 
 tic to the government. Her beautiful home has since be- 
 come a barracks for the soldiery. Stanley, born and reared 
 in luxury and wealth, came here from the new-made grave 
 of her mother. Wlien it was no longer possible to obtain 
 remittances from her father, she conceived and executed a 
 plan for aiding herself. You are aware, Mrs. Seaman, that 
 she — the lady whom you seek to defame — is the sister of 
 my son-in-law." 
 
 " Indeed ! " remarked the old lady in a tone faint with 
 chagrin ; " I have forgotten — that is, I think I never 
 knew " 
 
 " I presumed Mrs. Seaman was aware of the relation- 
 ship," remarked Mrs. Moore, a little exultantly. 
 
 "I repeat," added Mr. Kingswell, "I am suffering no 
 compunctions of conscience for having introduced my 
 young friend into your midst. In our social circle she has 
 no superior ; except, perhaps, in point of self-righteousness^ 
 
 It was the most cutting speech I ever heard him make ; 
 though he had been very much tried that afternoon, there 
 was a victorious look on his benign features as he led the 
 way to the garden and conservatory. It was yet daylight; 
 there were no young men in the party ; Mrs. S. could not, 
 of course, object to going too. I really pitied the poor old 
 creature, as I do all those who cannot find resources of 
 
254 THE MOKTANAS. 
 
 diversion and happiness within themselves, and, like vnl- 
 tures, must needs prey upon the characters of others to still 
 the cravings of an active temperament. I imagine the disci- 
 ples of Mrs. Grundy to be the most utterly miserable of all 
 created creatures. I thought, too, if the poor soldier-boys, 
 toiling in a distant front, could only know how many good 
 names they cost, they would shudder whenever it became 
 necessary to appropriate any article of apparel furnished by 
 the loyal ladies — of Wayburn, for instance. Brave men 
 would rather hear the music of a minie-ball than give ear to de- 
 traction in any form : they hate scandal -mongers, and avoid 
 them as they would a pestilence. Returning from the garden, 
 I met Mr. Kingswell. He said, ' I am looking for Stanley.' " 
 
 " That is my errand, too, just now ; I shall go further, 
 however — I shall seek her at the cottage." 
 
 "I will come presently, when I have taken Ala home — 
 when the house is vacated, and Ridgely is itself again." 
 
 He held the child in his arms, looking fondly into her 
 bright blue eyes, while she smoothed lovingly his iron-grey 
 hair. Afterwards, as I walked down the garden path to 
 the cottage, I saw him leading his little human blossom 
 among the flowers of that home. 
 
 Stanley sat near to the open window; she had been 
 weeping, and her face was very pale. Miss Phoebe was by 
 her side ; a few silent tear-drops fell upon her knitting as I 
 entered. There was an expression upon the faces of both 
 that kept me silent ; so I waited for Stanley to speak. 
 
 " Jennie, I seek no explanation of the outrage my feel- 
 ings received, and the insult to which I thoughtlessly ex- 
 posed myself, a few hours since. I only know that my 
 friends, for my sake, were subjected to the keenest humilia- 
 tion. So far as I am concerned, the freaks of society affect 
 me very little — I can live above them ; but this must have 
 
THE MONTANA S. 255 
 
 wounded Mr; and Mrs. Kingswell very much. I will see 
 that there shall be no recurrence of the unpleasant scene." 
 
 I related faithfully all that had occurred in her absence, 
 taking care to let the blame fall where it was most just it 
 should fall, adding : " Poor, malicious, old woman, had I 
 possessed no foreknowledge of the facts in the case, I, too, 
 mio'ht have been one of her converts to the belief that vou 
 were really a silly girl." 
 
 " After all, Jennie, it was wrong — that conference with 
 Mr. Hayne ; I feel it so now." 
 
 " That may be, I will admit. From the stand-point of 
 society, it does not appear to me exactly right ; but what 
 was I to do? In such cases we cannot be governed by 
 standard rules of conduct; cannot make laws for any indi- 
 vidual instance, and may scarcely abide by any, in such 
 cases. I hold that your love for Warren Hayne is sinless. 
 You loved him when he was free, and it was your chosen 
 right so to do. Could you forget that love ? Ignore the 
 glory of it in a day, or an hour ? No ! I hold sinless the 
 loves of both. His might have been otherwise, for he is a 
 man of the world, Stanley, and they do not think of things 
 as we do. That same world, so bitter towards an error in 
 our sex, is more lenient towards them. Their sense of the 
 nicer distinctions is necessarily somewhat blunted by the 
 contact. I have faith, solemn, boundless, in you both ; 
 but ' dammed up passion is a dangerous thing.' The safest 
 course was to throw the responsibility upon his honor, and 
 trust him. I know Warren — know still that he will keep 
 inviolate that trust." 
 
 Mr. Kingswell, as he entered the cottage, caught the 
 last words of what I had been saying to Stanley. He laid 
 his hands almost reverently upon her bowed head, remark- 
 ing in tones which I can never, never forget : 
 
256 THE MONT AN AS. 
 
 " My child, there is some cross in life for every human 
 being — this is yours. Bear it faithfully ; ask God to help 
 you, and he will." 
 
 He had some way, with his ready faculty, grasped what 
 lay between Warren and Stanley. With what delicate 
 tact he had administered comfoi-t to her and to me, bear- 
 ing my own cross silently ! 
 
 " As regards the occurrences of this afternoon," he con- 
 tinued, " it is needless to ask that you will not allow them 
 to wound you. We are all vulnerable to these thinirs. 
 There is one consolation, however : the shafts of envy inva- 
 riably rebound from an armor of truth and high purpose. 
 It is not the better portion of society that claim as pastime 
 such indulgences. Whenever you see a female given to 
 such diversions, you may be assured she is either very 
 illiterate, or by nature very coarse. Refined society is 
 more tolerant with regard to the faults and foibles of 
 its votaries. Ignorance and prejudice go hand in hand in 
 this covert field of action. That meant for section is often 
 brought to bear in individual instances. You may regard 
 yourself as quite a heroine, Stanley ; you represent the 
 South, and must endure all the hatred and mahgnity direct- 
 ed towards her." 
 
 "I have heard these things before. But for this out- 
 break, I could utterly ignore the existence of any unplea- 
 sant feeling in the community towards myself: but I cannot 
 bear that my friends should suff'er humiliation for my sake." 
 
 "Oh, if that is all, leave that to us; we will assume and 
 bear it cheerfully. Never allow it to touch you again. 
 Live above it ; you are capable of doing so. Show Mrs. 
 Seaman that she has no power to strike you. Truth and 
 right are their own vindicators and avengers ; leave the 
 issue to the arbitration of a higher power." 
 
TEE MONTANAS. 257 
 
 We watched him as he went down the path, the sha- 
 dows closing round him ; his glorious soul — the solitary- 
 radiance shining through the darkness — our messenger from 
 the Infinite. I remained with Stanley that night. She 
 sat up for a long time, writing. Then she came and sat 
 beside me, saying : 
 
 " Oh, Jennie, how I long for the strong arm which should 
 have been mine, yet failed me ! How frail and powerless 
 is woman to measure her streng-th with those of her sex 
 who are foes to every effort outside the usual routine. 
 Sometimes, for days together, mind is in the ascendant ; 
 but I am often made to think that the heart was only ga- 
 thering strength, during the little respite, to utter its bereave- 
 ment. Then a gTeat weariness comes over me, with con- 
 stant longing for a forbidden idol. And I long for death ; 
 the quietude of a Southern grave, beside my mother's. 
 This is a hard world, Jennie, even were there no miscon- 
 stractions, no perversions and injustice. But Christ bore 
 all for us — and the death." 
 
 Death ! Trae, it was our portion ; for her, the bright- 
 haired being at my side, with youth in every pulse of life ; 
 for him, who under the folds of the old flag, wielded the 
 arms of his country's defence; and for another brave, 
 whose battle-cry was : " Independence ! the right of self- 
 government for me ! " — with the mystery of an invincible 
 silence on lip and heart for ever. Alas ! Clyde Ingram, for 
 aaght I knew, might lie cold and dead 'neath the bright 
 flowers of his native land, whose far-away chimes rang 
 through the watches of that solemn night ! 
 
 We had, too, another cause for distress ; we had reason 
 to fear the safety of Uncle Montana. A few weeks after 
 coming north our remittances ceased. From that time we 
 had heard no word from him, nor received any intimation of 
 
258 THE MOXTANAS. 
 
 his whereabouts, if li%nng. Stanley was right ! This was, 
 in truth, a hard world, and its battle-days to us were full of 
 suspense and anguish. 
 
 CHAPTER XVin. 
 
 "What next? I know not, do not care; 
 Come pain or pleasure, weal or woe ; 
 There's nothing which I cannot bear, 
 
 Since I have borne this withering blow." 
 
 Another summer went, its roses, sunshine, and perfume 
 by ; another autumn came — russet, crisp, and sere to her 
 deserted haunts. One afternoon Stanley had gathered the 
 last golden-rods from the hillside, and arranged them in 
 vases on a table at the open window, near which she sat, 
 reading aloud to Miss Phoebe, who as usual was occupied 
 with her knitting. Ala Ray came in for her share of the 
 brightness and comfort of this little nest. Ala had failed 
 very much in health and strength recently. She clasped 
 her thin arms about Stanley's neck, saying gently — she 
 seemed to grow in gentleness as her strength wasted, and her 
 little tones were like the chimes we often hear in dreams : 
 
 " Auntie, mamma wants you to come over to supper. We 
 think maybe papa will be home, and we want all together; 
 we hope to have all except grandma Montana ; she is gone, 
 you know." 
 
 Ah ! there was another of the household absent, 
 whose name the child had never been taught to lisp; 
 he was held a traitor to his country, to the flag for which 
 her father fought, and Ala Ray was too young to re- 
 member the days when it was not so ! When they two 
 
THE MONT AN AS. 259 
 
 were brothers, in heart and soul ; as such they should have 
 gone through life together. I saw a bright tear fall upou 
 the sunny head nestled in Stanley's bosom. I know she 
 was thinking of the time when it was otherwise ; of our 
 Southern home ; how the hopes that clustered round it had 
 been broken into fragments and scattered widely at the 
 inevitable mandate at other ' time and place ; would they 
 ever be gathered up. Ala went on to say. — 
 
 " Oh ! Aunty dear, if that papa of mine could only know 
 how much I have wanted to see him, and how I have lain 
 awake nights waiting for him to speak just one little word 
 to me ! And now that these solemn days are here, and the 
 wind seems to be crying about this great war, I want him 
 more than ever. I never wairt to give him up again." 
 
 Ah ! many a time had that father thought and dreamed 
 of the little face that looked to him through silent falling 
 tears on lea\dng home, and the little heart that waited for 
 him there. Oh ! days that had been ! days that were to be ! 
 Of which did we think most then ; and on which lay the 
 shadow heaviest as we came up the teiTaced walks dotted 
 with autumn flowers ? 
 
 "Auntie ! I think of all the flowers I like the daisies best 
 of any I know. They are so small and white, and lie so 
 still on the grass in spring-time, as though waiting for God's 
 fingers to gather them up." 
 
 AVe raised our eyes ! A paii" of manly arms were out- 
 stretched ; his little daughter was held fast in a close firm 
 grasp. Ala's head lay on her father's breast. Why did 
 he hold her so tightly ? He had heard her words, and 
 feared God's fingers would pluck his daisy ere the spring- 
 time. The child wept for joy as though her little life 
 would go out ; all the while saying brokenly, how much 
 she had wanted him, that she would never let him go 
 
260 TUE MONTANA S. 
 
 again ; then entreating him to stay with her as long as 
 she lived. lie promised lier all she asked, as she smoothed 
 Hs crisp curls and kissed his face over and over with her 
 soft lips. Oh ! liow he had longed to be with therii ! And 
 how could he ever leave his home-idols again ! Poor man's 
 weak heart fails him sometimes ! No wonder ; life and 
 fate hold for him such hard trial tests. 
 
 " Mamma, don't you leave him ? " Ala said. 
 
 " Yes, daughter ; though you have given mamma no op- 
 portunity to say so. Stand down, and let papa look at his 
 little pet." 
 
 " ^Tiy, how tall she has grown, and thin," he added aside to 
 Mary, in a paiued voice. " Oh, I hope she will improve now." 
 
 " I was so tired ! so tired for you to come home, papa ! " 
 
 So saying,«he climbed into his lap and was soon asleep. He 
 laid her in the little crib. Then we all knelt, while Mr. Kings- 
 well thanked God for our hero's return in safety. When we 
 were all seated round the tea-table, Raymond remarked : 
 
 " And so you are all here to meet me ! This is pleasant." 
 
 " yl/Z, Raymond," Stanlfey asked significantly; "have you 
 forgotten?" 
 
 " No, sister ; I have not forgotten — I cannot forget who 
 is absent, and how he remains away. Many a time since I 
 have been a soldier in the service of my country I would 
 have given a world, had it been mine, to have shaken hands 
 with him under the folds of the old flag. I could better 
 have borne to see him fall, as I have seen thousands, than 
 to think of him as he is." 
 
 Then he talked of his campaign — of the Fredericksburg 
 slaughter — of the thirty thousand braves sacrificed to so 
 little purpose. Then of home and its concerns ! Of Ala — 
 very gently, with that feeling tremor in his voice, which 
 I always fancied I could hear when I read his letters to 
 
THE MONTANA S. 261 
 
 Mary, in which he never failed to say, " Take good care of 
 papa's little daughter." Then we came and sat by her side 
 as she lay sleeping. No more words now of storm and 
 conflict. We felt that angels were on guard that night 
 watching the soldier and his child. 
 
 The following day was spent by us all at Ridgely ; the 
 next with Stanley in her cottage home. During the after- 
 noon I received a letter from Cousin Warren. He wrote 
 briefly ; yet in the few sentences of commendation I felt 
 how much Stanley, going on fi-om day to day in her round 
 of patient duty, claimed his reverence. He, from his stand- 
 point, traced her path, and felt how nobly and firmly she 
 walked in it. He sent some books fi'om Paris for our joint 
 perusal, and begged that we would not forget him. He 
 spoke of his own land, and the hearts in it that were bleed- 
 ing to the death, and how he longed to be at home. The 
 letter bore date just one year from his visit to Wayburn. 
 That evening, as we sat together on the piazza at Uncle 
 Kingswell's — Raymond playing with his little daughter — I 
 remembered how, in the first summer days, we had sat there 
 with those two present Avho were absent now. One beyond 
 the sea ; the other further off", beyond countless seas of 
 ceaseless strife. 
 
 The next day brought Milverton to Ridgely. He in- 
 quired for me ; on being infonned that I was at the cottage, 
 he sent down the letter he had brought. It was from Lane 
 Austin. I afterwards learned how he obtained it ; hearing 
 that Gerald was a prisoner at Washington, he visited him 
 for the purpose of learning something of Clyde. On being 
 told that Lane w^as probably the only person w^ho could give 
 him any information, he wrote at once. By the exercise of 
 considerable strategy he succeeded in posting his letter, and 
 obtaining an answer addressed to me, which rau as follows : 
 
262 THE MONTANA S. 
 
 " I will dispense with preliminaries, Miss Aljean, in telling 
 you all I know concerning our beloved Colonel Ingram. I will 
 say nothing of the preference that you manifested for him 
 when we were all at home. How long since I have had a 
 home save in the field. It was enough, in the days of hard- 
 ship, to realize how much more worthy of your esteem he 
 was than I. Had it been the fullest measure of which your 
 woman's heart is capable, the boon was richly merited, for 
 a braver man to work for country, for independence, and for 
 God, I have never seen. But he is dead ! I saw our sol- 
 diers weeping while they dug his grave in a Southern wil- 
 derness. I can never express a tithe of what I felt in that 
 bitter hour. I would have died to save him, for I loved 
 him better than any one else in the world ! — than my own 
 brother, who pines to-day in a Northern prison. 
 
 " Our Colonel went himself with a small detachment on a 
 scouting expedition. They remained absent so long I grew 
 anxious, and went in search of them. I met some of his 
 men returning to camp ! They reported a skirmish, in 
 which the Colonel had been killed. I ordered them to pilot 
 us to the spot where they had left him. It was difficult to 
 keep the direction ; a heavy rain was falling ; we were at- 
 tacked once and driven into our fortifications. We made 
 another attempt, carrying a flag of truce ; we determined, 
 if possible, to recover the body of the Colonel at all haz- 
 ards. So many delays were involved in the prolonged 
 search, his face was unrecognizable ! The faces of all the 
 fallen men were marred and discolored by the drenching 
 rains. He lay near to his faithful steed — one which he al- 
 ways rode when on his plantation ; the creature's head was 
 near his master's shoulder. There, in a wilderness of green, 
 the blue sky over him, dust below, our soldiers made his 
 grave and fired their volleys over him ! I have seen many 
 
THE MONTANAS. 263 
 
 fall, Miss Aljean, since that last evening at Claremont. I 
 have looked upon death in almost every form ! I have seen 
 it in camp, in fort and hospital, by the wayside and on 
 battle-fields ; have seen my near relatives — those who were 
 once possessed of thousands — starving for a crust, but 
 nothing ever affected me like this; he was my friend — 
 brother ; on the march and in camp we had faced death 
 together. But the arch-enemy had come to him when I 
 was not near to claim a parting pressure of his hand and 
 treasure his last words. It was hard to think there was no 
 kind voice to break the last, long silence, as it closed about 
 him." 
 
 I was glad no one was near me. It chanced that I was 
 alone in Stanley's little chamber. The grim eternal silence 
 seemed closing about me, too ; iron bars were pressing on 
 my heart ; oh, it was bursting. I was reeling, suffocating. 
 I passed into the garden, found Stanley, gave her the letter ; 
 she read it while I walked about recklessly crushing the 
 autumn flowers under my impatient feet. Stanley wept, 
 exclaiming in broken sentences : 
 
 " Poor Clyde, poor dear brother ! Oh, Jennie, I am so 
 sorry that I sent him away that time, he seemed so solitary 
 and desolate ; those whom he loved to him were stony- 
 hearted. Oh, why did not you care for him and save him ! " 
 My heart grew hard as I looked upon her ; then I could 
 speak the taunt, but not the anguish I felt : 
 
 " Stanley Montana, do not stand there mocking me ; do 
 anything else you choose ; pity me, for I loved Clyde 
 Ingram, have done so for years and years ; loved him, and 
 he loved me ; I shall go mad that I have lost him." I 
 threw myself upon the ground ; there, lying on the crushed 
 flowers, I defied the smiting hand that had stricken him. 
 Yes, God forgive me, in that bitter moment I uttered a 
 
"264 TUE MONTANAS. 
 
 tortuous malediction against tlie power that had bereft me. 
 Night came down with its cool dews from the fountain of 
 His immutable love ; as they fell upon my thirsting soul 
 tears came to my relief. As I lay there the autumn moon 
 rose up — the moon that shone, and the autumn that dropped 
 its leaves upon his distant grave. The heart of the universe 
 had ceased to pulsate. His life-task was ended; he was 
 gone from the canker that cuts into the soul with its slow 
 charges and takes the bloom from life ; gone from the sud- 
 den casualties, the sad possibilities and probabilities, which 
 are but other names for the freaks of human destiny. 
 Never more would they crash through his heartrstrings wdth 
 sudden desolation, as they had done through mine. He 
 -was sleeping, we were weeping. It was my cross in life, 
 this death, and I must bear it to the end. The ponderous 
 machinery of the universe crashed on as though he slept not. 
 
 We were to have company in the evening ; how much 
 the seal which had hitherto set upon my lips and life aided 
 me in crushing down the inward strife. I went into Stanley's 
 little bed-chamber, lay looking out of the window upon the 
 widespread busy universe, which held for me nothing save 
 its category of grim silences. By-and-by I saw Raymond 
 and Milverton coming ; how cheerful and indifferent they 
 looked. 
 
 Captain Montana wore the uniform of our country — the 
 insignia which asserted grimly and vaunted to my sick heart 
 that he was the dead man's enemy. For an instant I could 
 not look down into the deeps where the old brotherhood 
 rested pure, unsullied by passion or sectional prejudice. 
 Now I only thought how two countries, whose widely dis- 
 severed interests and aims had come between, and how one 
 lay in his far-off sleep, with none to mourn him save the 
 silent heart w^hose love for him was all untold. These 
 
THE MONTANAS. 265 
 
 thoughts were passing througli my mind wMle I heard 
 Raymond entreating one of their visitors, Miss Radway, to 
 sing. I lay spell-bound, listening to the words : 
 
 " "When our boys come home in triumph, brother, 
 "With the laurels they shall gain ; 
 "When we meet to give them welcome, brother, 
 "We shall look for you in vain." 
 
 Her voice was tremulous with intense pathos as she sang 
 the closing half of the last stanza : 
 
 " Surely we would not recall you, brother, 
 Though our tears flow fast and free. 
 When we think of you as sleeping, brother. 
 Underneath that southern tree." 
 
 My heart melted as I looked at Raymond, who sat near 
 the open door, for I saw a brother's sorrow under the calm 
 exterior of the soldier. " Where is Jennie ? " he inquired 
 suddenly; when Stanley answered him he came and sat 
 beside my sofa, talking casually of many things. At length, 
 with the air of one who had long evaded what must be 
 faced, he spoke : 
 
 " Jennie, Mary, and I will go to Washington to-morrow ; 
 will you bear us company ? " After a pause he continued : 
 " I am very sorry, Aljean " the sentence was not con- 
 cluded, for he saw how I shuddered as with the chill of 
 that death. I think he now, for the first time, realized 
 my love for Clyde Ingram. Notwithstanding my silent 
 pain, which he felt as keenly as I did, he asked, while a beam 
 came into his face : 
 
 " And is it true, Jennie ? " Yes, it was true ; one of 
 God's truths, which time or change, death or eternity could 
 not annul. Yes ! I would go with them ; I told him so : 
 
 12 
 
266 THE MONTANAS. 
 
 I would see Gerald Austin myself, and inquire his brother's 
 address, which Lane had omitted to give me. 
 
 The following morning found Raymond and Mary, Ala and 
 myself, en route for the capital. We paused but a few hours 
 in Xew York ; grey mists lifted up their shadowy arms to 
 salute the moruinof sun as it streaked the bosom (>f the 
 Delaware while we crossed. Some Government boats were 
 loosed from their moorings, and in the brooding stillness I 
 heard workmen at the forge singing, "Maryland, ray Mary- 
 land." I thought then, as I have ever since, it was the 
 finest lyric poem of the age.' In those wild, wailing tones 
 of appeal, I caught the enthusiasm which must have ani- 
 mated many a heart to do and dare what those southern 
 hearts have done for country and the love of it. 
 
 We soon saw the glittering domes and spires of the capi- 
 tal, bordered with its broad white sheet of Potomac, be- 
 yond which, upon the plains of Virginia, stood bulwarks of 
 a nation's strength, in an attitude of appeal to the god of 
 victory. What was Washinirton o-rown to be ? From halls 
 where sti'ong-armed, calm-faced Justice was wont to rise 
 and speak his mandates, to the inheritors of a common 
 country, were heard now only the croaking voices of dema- 
 gogues, who instantly set hard heels upon any white bud 
 of peace that dared to lift its modest head, with timid 
 promise of blossom, amid the strife. 
 
 When we became settled at our hotel, I went with Ray- 
 mond to seek Gerald. He obtained, through Captain Mon- 
 tana's numerous friends, admission to his prison. It was 
 a strange interview ! He seemed as if he wished to talk of 
 everything but what my heart most longed to hear. Yet 
 in all he said, there were no broken sentences of repent- 
 ance ; no regrets, no repinings — only a sullen persistence 
 in his political fallacy, through which shone a dogged spirit 
 
THE MONT AN AS. 267 
 
 of resistance, wliich might be crushed but never wholly 
 extinguished, even within the walls of a dungeon. He was 
 kind, polite, respectful ; yet we could leara from him 
 nothing more concerning Clyde's death than we already 
 knew. We failed even to procure Lane's address, which 
 was our chief design in going there. So we came back to 
 Weyburn after our hopeless journey. As we recrossed 
 the Delaware at night, the stars seemed to look down with 
 a pitying radiance into the troubled abysses of my soul ! 
 and I heard a voice which said to the lashing waves — 
 " Peace ! be still." 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 " For what is life ? at best, a brief delight ; 
 
 A sun scarce brightening ere it sinks in night : 
 A flower at morning fresh, at noon decayed; 
 A still swift river gliding into shade." 
 
 During our visit, Ala had pined for the atmosphere of her 
 own home. She seemed to grow weary of all things about 
 her, and said she wanted to rest. "When we brought her 
 back she would lie ofttimes in her little bed so still that we 
 grew alarmed. We began to devise means by which we 
 could avail ourselves of medical aid, without having her 
 suspect we thought her really ill. Accordingly, Raymond 
 brought Dr. Berkley ; ostensibly to dine — really to admi- 
 nister to our pet. She w^as a favorite with him, as she was 
 with all who knew her. He laid her golden head against 
 his cheek, adroitly examined her pulse, but his face gave 
 no sign that he thought our darling in danger. We were 
 reassured by his manner ; our chilly fears took once more 
 
268 THE MONTANAS 
 
 the warm hue -of hope; we caught the sunshine of the 
 brief interval that was to elapse before we must give her up 
 finally. For this we were onlv waitincf. 
 
 Raymond had made his preparations with a view to 
 returning to camp. His leave of absence was already 
 expired ; on the morrow he would go. 
 
 The eve before his leave-taking, he and Mary had a little 
 conference — half sad, half hopeful — about home concerns 
 and Ala — how she would bear the blow. I left them and 
 went down to the cottage. Crisp leaves were lying on the 
 garden path, and the autumn sky hung down its banners 
 of crimson which shone through the swaying trees, remind- 
 ing one of altar-fires lifting up their everlasting incense to 
 the Creator, gratefully. I thought how on distant fields, 
 where the dead lay white and still, gleamed other banners, 
 red with the gore of our hearts' chosen idols. With these 
 reflections pressing heavily, it was natural I should seek to 
 avoid meeting Mr. Milverton, whom I observed coming up 
 the path. I had special reasons for not wishing to see 
 him, but there was no escape. We shook hands ; then he 
 said his say earnestly : 
 
 " I am very grateful, Miss Jennie, for this opportunity of 
 seeing you alone before I return to Xew York. I have 
 something which I must say, though you will doubtless 
 think me a sorry old fool for having said it ; but I am tired 
 of what the gay world calls pleasure ! I have money, 
 friends, and health ; but I want a home of my own. I am 
 just beginning to realize how dreadfully selfish a bachelor 
 is. Now here I am, roaming round, while you, a little frail 
 creature, are moping, growing pale, for want of somebody 
 to nurse you up and care for you. I propose to do that ; 
 I want you — your presence — in the home I shall make , 
 want you here in my heart to still its cravings — to make 
 
THE MONTANAS. 269 
 
 ine a better, nobler man tban I am. Will you be my 
 
 wife?" 
 
 I raised my band deprecatingly ! bis words jarred pain- 
 fally a sensitive cbord in my sore beart, tbat would never 
 again vibrate witb tenderness for any man living. I an- 
 swered bim witb energy, not a little amused despite myself. 
 " No, no, not your wife ! Wby, Mr. Milverton, you do 
 not know me, or ratber you do not know yourself. You 
 care no more for me tban for five-and-twenty otber young 
 girls in your circle. I am as jealous by nature as a Blue- 
 beard, and could never consent to occupy sucb a tiny nook 
 in any man's beart, especially yours. Large as it is, I sbould 
 want tbe wbole of it. Besides, do not want to marry me.on 
 account of my paleness ; I may transfer tbat to you wben 
 I tell you, tbat immediately on becopiing mistress of your 
 prospective borne, I sbould resort to a vigorous use of my 
 tono-ue, in order to induce you to abandon all your innocent 
 amusements, sucb as balls, soirees, tbeatres, &c., and settle 
 down demurely into quiet life. Tben you would be com- 
 pelled to stop flirting. One of tbe natural matrimonial re- 
 sults is, tbat a man sbaU give up kissing all tbe pretty girls 
 in bis circle, even tbougb tbat man were Mr. Milverton, a 
 gay bacbelor of tbirty-five. See wbat a martyr you must 
 necessarily become." 
 
 " Now, now. Miss Jennie, I protest most solemnly. By 
 tbe way, wbat bas so suddenly sobered you? I bave not 
 forgotten a few seasons since you were tbe most inveterate 
 coquette present at Nabant." 
 
 " Ab ! my friend, tbe soul seems to bave gone out of 
 everytbing since tben : tbe land is full of sorrow. I am 
 desperately earnest now in all I say and do." 
 
 " So am I. I design quitting all my bad practices — get- 
 ting married, just for tbe novelty." 
 
270 TEE MONTANA S. 
 
 " Then let me inform you, that unless you have in the 
 matter more genuine feeling than your tone and manner 
 would suggest, matrimony will prove anything but a novel 
 performance," 
 
 " I suppose you think one should be deeply in love — 
 well, what is it ? Let me define love for you : It is a flame 
 that bums itself out with the ardor of youth. Refined in- 
 tercourse in a social circle will produce a comfortable state 
 of amicable feeling. In some instances, we find those 
 whose companionship is a source of rare delight, and con- 
 fers upon us, as individuals, a happiness which all the 
 world beside would fail to supply. Beyond this there is 
 little for men who have arrived at my age. I should 
 give you as much tenderness, perhaps, as any of my 
 sex." 
 
 " Oh, I am thankful for the privilege of looking upon 
 human nature from my own stand-point ! Throw away 
 those spectacles, Mr. Milverton. Do not imagine all the 
 world is looking through them, when it is only yourself. 
 I am not yet so callous to the genuine attributes of man- 
 kind, that I can afford to dispense with love in my union. 
 I want that something — a presence vast enough to cover 
 all the earth, and in one little space where it is not, 1 
 want to feel as if impenetrable darkness had settled ; a sen- 
 timent which came from God with messages of a hope that 
 may be eternal, alone, enduring as the stars. Then, though 
 there may be long, sad farewells, and heart-tears never dry ; 
 grim silences of death and separations that stretch through 
 time to the white portals yonder, beyond those crimson clouds 
 of sunset ; yet, too, there may be something beyond those 
 broad slopes of the everlasting life, in that heaven which 
 ig love's true abiding-place." I checked myself suddenly, 
 as I felt the red flash into my cheeks beneath Milverton's 
 
THE MONTANAS. 271 
 
 gaze of pitying scrutiny. The question fell from Ms lips 
 unconsciously : 
 
 . " Have you ever loved tliat love, Jennie, whose hope is 
 here of fruition there ? " 
 
 " Yes ; I did love ! My heart attests the truth ; it is 
 over now. He walked through earth a king among men ; 
 he is dead I All the world cannot give me back what died 
 with him. I have told you enough ; let the subject never 
 recur between us." I gav^e him my hand, over which he 
 bowed in silent acquiescence, then left me. I saw him 
 enter the gate at Ridgely ere I joined Stanley at the cot- 
 tage. It was twilight ; the lamps were not yet lighted ; 
 the glow of the wood-fire was upon Stanley's cheek, and 
 golden rings of hair broke like beams of sunlight through 
 her net, and lay upon her dark dress caressingly. Those 
 tresses of hers would not bear confinement ; they were 
 rebelHous as her nature, for I saw tears upon her cheeks 
 which told me that she wore not her harness patiently that 
 evening. I gathered her head to my bosom and asked 
 her why she wept. 
 
 " I was thinking, dear, what a strange and wayward fate 
 has been ours ! Of that love of yours whose glory was hid 
 
 in a tomb ; and mine . Oh, it is no light thing I — the 
 
 task of learning to live without some one to cling to, whose 
 love is all your own. Do not interrupt me ; 1 am talking 
 of nothing, want nothing that belongs of right to Warren 
 Hayne's wedded wife. But I do so often miss what was 
 given me ; that which, but for the treachery of some, would 
 have been mine." 
 
 " I know, darling, you miss what should have been yours, 
 and will do so more and more, as you go on through life. 
 There are many in the world who care for us, more or less, 
 but there are very few w^ho really love us. Our mother 
 
2V2 THE MONTANAS. 
 
 did — our brother — he leaves us to-morrow. Ah, here he 
 is ; another farewell ! " Ray sat with us some time, affect- 
 ing to talk cheerfully, though it was plain to see how the 
 soldier's heart was bowed low; that the separation was 
 inevitable. Of Ala he thought most of all. 
 
 " It will break her little heart to know that I am going. 
 ^e must bring her down here. When she finds that I am 
 really gone, you girls niay be better able to pacify her than 
 her mother. Poor Mary is herself so miserable. You will 
 manage it, Jennie, will you not ? I cannot bear to have 
 her torn from me. This seems the only course left 
 me." 
 
 " Yes ; I will endeavor to ^o so, Ray, but you must pro- 
 mise me that when your term expires, you will come home 
 to stay. Ala needs you more than your country, just now." 
 
 " All, that is a woman's view of the case ! You would 
 not make a good soldier, Jennie." 
 
 My face flushed ; I saw he did not comprehend my mean- 
 ing. I could not speak more plainly. I could not look 
 that father iu the face and tell him of the slow-breaking 
 heart-strings of his only child, so I only answered : 
 
 " At all events, Raymond, should I send for you at any 
 lime, come ; come quickly, at all hazards." 
 
 He promised then. As he was leaving the house he 
 beheld a little white-winged something, that seemed to stir 
 the moonlight, it was so light and airy, coming down the 
 garden path. Raymond stopped still, breathless with sus- 
 pense and anguish. As the figure came nearer we saw the 
 white dress, falling hair, and spiritual face of Ala Ray ; there 
 was such tender love for him shining in every lineament of 
 his daughter's face as she exclaimed: 
 
 " Oh, papa, why did you not take me with you ? I have 
 sought you everywhere. I have been so unhappy since you 
 
TEE MOKTAyAS. 273 
 
 went, and left mamma crying dear — ^blessed mamma ; and, 
 oh, your little Ala was so miserable." 
 
 " "Why, my little pet, do you think you could not get 
 along • without papa for a little while ? AATiat would my 
 darling do if I should go away again to stay ? " 
 
 She anwered musingly : 
 
 " I am sure I don't know, though I think I should die ! " 
 
 Ray looked at me piteously, while the child glanced 
 eagerly, apprehensively, from one to the other. She put 
 her arms close about her father's neck, nestled up to him, 
 lying quite still, as if in pain, her breath coming hard 
 between her set teeth. Xo one spoke, no one could just 
 then. x\.t length Raymond said : 
 
 " My darling, your httle dress is wet with heavy dew, 
 you are cold, let aunty warm you and then put you in her 
 bed until papa is ready to go home." With a strange 
 silence, and obstinacy entirely unnatural to her, she clung 
 closely to her father, refusing to be moved. At length she 
 said in a grieved tone : 
 
 " Papa, why did you ask me what I should do if you 
 were to leave me again ? " Raymond understood from ray 
 face that he must tell her all about it. 
 
 "Because, my darling, papa is compelled to rejoin his 
 regiment. He must leave you for a little while, but when 
 the spring is here, and there are many flowers in auntie's 
 grounds, adown the pretty garden way, I will come and 
 stay with you all the time ! " 
 
 There was no outburst, only she trembled a great deal, 
 and the little face, down which the still tears trickled, 
 seemed to grow momently whiter, more transparent ; faster, 
 harder came her breath through the quivering lips. Seeing 
 that Raymond was unable to articulate one word, we be- 
 sought her, Stanley and I, to remain with us ; all in vain. 
 
 12* 
 
274 THE MONTANAS. 
 
 In answer to our entreaties, she said in a choked voice, that 
 surprised us for its calmness: 
 
 " No, no, I cannot leave my papa to-night ! Now, auntie, 
 do not take me from him at the last. If he must go, I will 
 try and bear it as well as I can ! " 
 
 Oh, it was so touching ; the recognition of the exigency 
 which separated them. Many a person who had grown 
 saintly, resisting tribulations ; who, in the hard service of 
 the worid, had become inured to disappointment ; might 
 have learned a lesson from that child, in her patient accept- 
 ance of what seemed inevitable ; of the sorrow which almost 
 broke her little heart. Raymond recognised it, and exclaim- 
 ed passionately : 
 
 " My brave, noble child ! you are more a hero than papa, 
 little one ; and you shall stay with him as long as you can, 
 and papa will come back to you very soon." 
 
 " Before daisies blossom, papa ? and the grass grows green 
 again in the old church-yard, and myrtle upon the rough 
 sides of gilead trees, where the little birds build their nests 
 in ^aisy times ? And you will think of your little daughter 
 often when you go again to sleep under the stars ? " 
 
 "Yes, yes, dariing!" he answered, soothingly; "and 
 papa will svrite many letters to his Uttle girl ; won't that be 
 nice ? " 
 
 " But then, dear papa, you will not be here to romp with 
 me in the morning times. I could bear to do without you 
 through the long days, but in the evenings, oh, I shall want 
 you so much ; how can I ever do \N-ithout you ? " 
 
 Ah ! he could not tell her that ; the father, with his 
 broken voice and sinking heart. He rose, saying he would 
 take the child to her mother, passed out into the wan light 
 of the autumn moon, hanging just above the garden path ; 
 that home-way, where the summer flowers were faded and 
 
TEE MONTANAS. 21 b' 
 
 leaves were lying crisp, o'er which an angel's feet had come 
 to guide him to the very portals where they should part, 
 father and child, not to meet again in an earthly spring-time. 
 Not yet, not yet, the bright doors unclosed; why? the 
 keeper's hand was on the latch ; was there yet some mission 
 unaccomplished ? Our hold of her seemed so frail that a 
 breath might destroy it ; yet oh, how our hearts clung to 
 that little shape, that was so fair and heavenly. 
 
 Raymond was gone ! Mary being unwell I was installed 
 chief nurse to Ala Ray. Often during the day she corn- 
 plained of being tii'ed, and would lie for a long time in 
 my arms — still, as if death was already upon her ; then she 
 would start up and sing a little snatch of some song her father 
 liked to hear. Then she would ask hovr long it would be 
 until the daisies bloomed. Then settle herself as if she 
 would try to wait patiently. Oh ! country, bleeding at 
 every pore through these reeking days of sacrifice, there 
 was nothing more hallowed laid upon thy altar than what 
 that child gave to thee thus uncomplainingly — the joy of 
 her father's presence during those last days of hers upon 
 the earth. Ah ! sweet Ala Ray ! There is no name for 
 heroism like to thine ; but God has taken the struggle of 
 .thy little heart into strict account. Thy offering was to 
 countrv and to him. Brisrhter even than the hero's crown 
 of glory shall shine thy white wreath of innocence in the 
 father's peace. 
 
 Winter came, wrapping again its white arms around the 
 habitations of this earth, tracking gently the graves of 
 the summer flowers. There was no visible change in our 
 pet, saving a constantly increasing languor, a gradual fail- 
 ing of vitality, which was replaced by a pallor whiter, more 
 transparent. I grew so accustomed to having her little golden 
 head upon my breast, I missed her when she asked to be 
 
276 THE MONTANAS. 
 
 transferred to her own little couch, with its drapings of the 
 blue she loved so well. It seemed she daily grew more 
 cheerful, more considerate for those around her, and would 
 often say : 
 
 "Aunty, I am sure you must be tired holding me so 
 long?" She was apparently unconscious that her light 
 weight was no more than a pleasant burden to me. 
 
 Leah Eldridge had lived with Mary during Raymond's 
 period of sendee. About this time Jamie, her little son, 
 was attacked with a malignant fever. Ala would not rest 
 by day or night until the little boy was brought in and 
 placed upon her owm silken couch. I assumed the charge 
 of watching them both one night, that Leah and Mary 
 might both be rested. Jamie slept ; Ala lay quite still in 
 my arms a long time, then started, turning her eyes upon 
 me with a delight that was quite new and strange to her of 
 late. " ^Tiat is it darling ? " I asked. 
 
 " Did you not see them, auntie ; they came so near to 
 you, their white wings almost touched your cheek, hold- 
 ing out their hands to me, and I wanted to go with them 
 for they were very lovely, auntie ; but then I thought of 
 you and dear mamma, and how hard it would be to leave 
 you ; then that papa of mine came home, auntie darling, 
 though the daisies were not yet bloomed. A tall, dark man, 
 came with him ; it seemed as though I had seen him 
 somewhere before; and they clasped hands, papa and he, 
 and talked of peace; you looked so happy, and I heard 
 such sweet music ! Oh ! auntie, I am sorry it was all a 
 dream ; I should really love to go to that beautiful place." 
 
 My tears were fast falling as I pressed her closer to my 
 heart trying to speak calmly, softly, that the mother might 
 not hear ; but I could articulate no word of all that must 
 be said. 
 
THE MONTANAS. 277 
 
 " Auntie, you know how well I love you every one, but 
 I think I must go there for a little while ; I shall come 
 back to see you many times, and you will all be happy 
 when I am gone, for you will know that I am happy in 
 that beautiful place. Auntie, there will he no pain therer 
 She unconsciously put her hand to her head ; I felt her 
 pulse adroitly, and found she had fever. I administered a 
 cooling draught, which was the most that could be done. 
 During the afternoon she often said to me : 
 
 " Auntie, have you told mamma that I am going away by- 
 and-by, where this pain can rest? Oh! if it could only 
 sleep for a little time ! But I sniffer so much." I choked 
 back the tears at such times, but rarely answered her. Oh ! 
 how she suffered for many days! The eking out of that 
 small remnant of vitality was indeed fraught with the ac- 
 complishment of a great mission. Not yet, not yet, was 
 the little frail bark borne outward to the eternal strand. 
 Not yet was the bright door unclosed; not yet the little 
 fingers swept the chords of a heavenly harp. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 " A truer, nobler, trustier heart, 
 More loving or more loyal, never beat 
 Within a human breast" 
 
 Byeon's Two Foscaei. 
 
 It came to pass in course of time that Jamie grew better, 
 and during the days of his convalescence our darling was 
 stretched upon a bed of death. Physicians, friends, and 
 
278 THE MONTANAS. 
 
 nurses by the score came and went with noiseless steps, but 
 their errands availed naught for the little sufferer, who was 
 happily unconscious of alL There was nothing in the every- 
 day routine to break the stupor of our great grief. I went 
 myself to the office and telegraphed for Raymond, when I 
 found there was no hope of her lingering long. I stood at 
 the gate a few moments on my return. A stranger trudged 
 wearily by, taking the broad road to Ridgely. My heart beat 
 quick. That form was like unto another's^ who had been 
 bowed and stricken by a battle-blast ! I was so agitated I 
 found it necessary to recall a Southern grave, and the 
 sleeper there, in order to calm myself. As I entered the 
 hall I could not avoid hearing the loud, harsh tones of Mrs. 
 Seaman, who was in the reception-room holding solemn 
 converse with some one concerning a very suspicious charac- 
 ter who seemed to be entirely at home with the Kingswells. 
 " He had been there for upwards of a week, and was, in her 
 estimation, a deserter from Lee's army." I passed boldly 
 into the room. Mrs. Seaman started, blushed guiltily, and 
 said deprecatingly : 
 
 " We came to ask if we should be permitted to see the 
 little girl ; I- hear she is much worse ; what a pity ! the 
 father should be sent for. Of course you anticipate the 
 worst results. In my experience this malady has invariably 
 proven fatal, though it is a disease which takes a long time 
 to kill. Well, I'm sorry for Miss Kingswell, she was so 
 fond of the little thing, and as I said before, it's a pity — if 
 I could only see the mother — she's a young creature — ^I 
 might tell her some things." 
 
 " Mrs. Seaman," I exclaimed with vehemence, " Mrs. 
 Montana is very ill ? Upon her mother and myself, in her 
 father's absence, devolves the care of his child- I shall 
 therefore assume the responsibility of denying you admis- 
 
THE MONTANAS. 279 
 
 sion to her presence : you may sit liere if you wisli ; excuse 
 me, I must go to Ala." 
 
 The little thing manifested no more consciousness of the 
 blisters on her little temples than if they had been wisps of 
 paper. She was sleeping soundly when I entered. The 
 grandmother bade me go at once to the cottage to Stanley, 
 who had been confined to the house for several days with 
 a severe cold, and give her information to allay her imme- 
 diate fear concerning our darling. I spoke words of com- 
 fort to Mary, whose heart-cry was, " Oh ! that Raymond 
 was here;" then took my way down the garden-path, 
 where the snow lay cold and white. I inquired if she had 
 been to Ridgely recently ? She replied that she had not. 
 A few commonplaces, and then I left her to return to my 
 charge. A few rods from the cottage I met the mysterious 
 stranger going there by way of our private road. I started, 
 sprang forward with a sudden impulse, then retreated with 
 an ejaculation, I do not now remember what it was ; I only 
 know I found myself then and there face to face with Clyde 
 Ingram! — him whom I mourned far off in his Southern 
 grave. Had the dead really come back, or was he only the 
 ghost of a former time standing there white and still before 
 me ? He offered me his hand ; I could not take it, but 
 gazed at him with wild, streaming eyes, until I saw the old, 
 proud smile curling his bloodless lips, and heard his sar- 
 castic tones ringing out chimes in that cold, winter day. 
 Were we two doomed to misunderstand each other to the 
 bitter end ? In truth, it seemed fated that we should do so. 
 
 " And so you will not give me your hand, Aljean ! Oh ! 
 I have wished so much to see you ! though perhaps you do 
 right to remind me that even the relations of friend and 
 friend, existing between us when we parted, are changed 
 now, very sadly. When wounded and left for dead upon 
 
280 THE MONT ANAS. 
 
 the field, I failed to remember for a time tlie bitter truth ; 
 I only thought it would soothe me to look upon your face 
 once more : I forgot that you regarded me as a traitor. My 
 country's enemy I have been, and am still ! but yours — 
 never ! not even when you tore my heart-strings by giving 
 your love to another. No, I did not hate you then. lie 
 has been by my side, my faithful friend ever since I saw 
 you last. I sympathize with you both, and regret your 
 inevitable separation for so long. As for myself, I felt I 
 must see you again : I have cheated death for that purpose ; 
 I am here, and you scorn me ! What little is left of my 
 possessions I bequeathe to you with my last blessing. I am 
 no longer proud, Aljean, hut you are. This very instant we 
 must part, never to meet any more. I shall go my way 
 now, you have heard my bequest — farewell." 
 
 " Stay !" I almost screamed ; " I do not comprehend one 
 half that you say, Clyde Ingram; but the strange fierce 
 tides of mingled joy and sorrow surging through my heart 
 and brain threaten to unhinge my reason. You must not, 
 shall not go. ^\Tiat you have been, I know : what you are, 
 I care not. I have things to tell you you will think strange 
 to hear : but not now — not to-day ; little Ala Ray — Ray- 
 mond's child — is dying ! come with me to her : I cannot 
 stay away longer, and I do not want to leave you here." 
 So saying, I catched his hand and kissed it with burning 
 lips: a strange, beautiful light seemed breaking over his 
 wan face, but it darkened into a frown when he remem- 
 bered aU things, for he said : 
 
 " No, no, / cannot go there I that is why we have not met 
 before to-day. I shall see Stanley — I was going there 
 when I saw you." I gave him my hand ; his face had re- 
 sumed its wonted expression of bitter patience : he held my 
 fingers tightly in his clasp with a look that said, I still 
 
THE MONTANAS. 281 
 
 must wait; then went his way to the cottage. Once more 
 in my own room, I knelt and thanked God fervently that 
 the great seal of silence which sat upon those years; a hope- 
 less hope, was broken at last : even though death should set 
 another more enduring on his lips, it would not be cruel as 
 the first. 
 
 Three laggard days, slowly dragging through their 
 weight of suspense and anguish, had passed, yet we waited 
 still the opening of the golden doors and the passing of 
 Ala's soul beyond. On the noon-time of the fourth she 
 awoke from her death-like stupor. I wrote a few words 
 upon a slip of paper addressed to Clyde, and sent Jamie 
 with it to Ridgely. 
 
 When the beautiful eyes of the child unclosed from their 
 trance-like slumber, she saw her father, who knelt beside 
 her in his great anguish. With one last effort she twined 
 her thin arms about his neck, kissing and talking softly in 
 her sweet caressing tones, as though he had never been 
 away. Mary was almost wild with joy when she heard the 
 loved voice still so long. Oh ! we could none of us realize 
 that our darling was going, even when her breath grew 
 short and quick in sudden gasps. As for the father, his 
 soul seemed wrenched from him ; his hope, joy, life almost, 
 had been hung on that little frail thing. He exclaimed 
 wildly — 
 
 " Oh ! my child, my Ala, do not, do not leave me." 
 
 A dark figure crept into the room unobserved, and knelt 
 reverently upon the opposite side of the little couch. 
 
 " See ! see, papa, that dark man — I saw him in my 
 dream." Raymond lifted his eyes when he heard that 
 angel voice. A frown heavy, terrible, like a gathering tem- 
 pest, followed his swift recognition of Clyde. 
 
 *' Take his hand, dear papa ; he loves you — I am sure he 
 
282 THE MONTANAS. 
 
 does ; a briglit, beautiful angel told it to me." Slowly the 
 gloom cleared away from that father's brow : then there 
 came uppn his face a bright, brief gleam of the old brother- 
 hood, mingled with unspeakable surprise. By one joint, 
 God-o-iven impulse, the brother hands met and clasped over 
 the little form, and with her last sight she saw that it was 
 so Then a glorious brightness came upon her little face, 
 and the sinking sun poured its red floods into the chamber. 
 Wide open flew the pearly doors of the New Jerusalem : 
 all the heavenly harps were attuned ! angels chanted the 
 triumphal chorus when the little spiiit passed therein. 
 
 ^Miat conqueror, even though his blood-stained wreath 
 of victory was dearly bought, had done what this sinless 
 child, with only her little, loxiwg heart to prompt her, and 
 God to point her mission out, had accomplished ! She had 
 abrido-ed floods of sectional hatred, and with her small, 
 weak hands, had drawn together two brother hearts, wide 
 asunder as the stars ! Her reward was well begun. But 
 oh ! for us, with our darling gone, woe, misery unuttera- 
 ble ! we felt it in all its length and depth and breadth as 
 silently we knelt there, until the last tinge of color faded 
 from the western heaven : then in the grey of descending 
 twilight we saw the wan w^hiteness of death upon the little 
 face smiling to us sweetly through its pallor. The portals 
 closed after her, and we with our great sorrow were left all 
 alone in the darkness of the night. • 
 
 We will not linger upon the days that followed, the 
 nights of watching, and the funeral. Once, strong man as 
 he was, the father's tears fell like rain, when, as his idol was 
 being borne slowly down the garden-way to the church- 
 yard, he saw a few modest daisies struggling to blossom in 
 the snow : she loved daisies, and they seemed waiting to 
 salute her as she passed. God's fingers had gathered one 
 
THE MONTANAS. 283 
 
 daisy ere the grass grew green and the myrtle upon the 
 gilead sides where the birds sang blithe in spring-time. 
 
 " See, Jennie, it has all come to pass as she said ; I am 
 here : but she — oh ! would that I had not been forced to 
 tear myself away from her when she was so soon to leave 
 me alone!" ^ 
 
 Gathered by that little grave-side, Mr. Kingswell's voice 
 uprose in prayer ; a prayer so fraught with faith, so blent 
 and tremulous with hope — so frail and yet so strong, it 
 seemed to lay hold on the eternal throne. Then, like drop- 
 ping water or falling leaves in autumn, came the lulling 
 spell-like words that told of resignation which was inevita- 
 ble. We took up our burdens of life again and went back 
 to the lonely house, where, in many yesterdays, she had 
 been with us : but now it would be so no more. It was 
 long before our darling's footprints faded from the starry 
 homeway o'er which she passed to God. 
 
 For a week after Ala's death, Raymond was confined at 
 home by the illness of his mfe, during which time Clyde 
 Inoram had never once left Ridgely. Stanley had resumed 
 her school duties ; and I vibrated, as usual, between brother 
 and sister. I was with Stanley when Mrs. Seaman called 
 to express her \drtuous indignation that Mr. Kingswell 
 should entertain a renegade nephew, who had borne arms 
 against his country ; which sentiment, she avowed, was 
 shared by the community at large ; the expression of which 
 had been prevented, or rather delayed, on account of the 
 calamity which had befallen the household. I drew my 
 breath hard, with a bitter sense of outrage, while I listened 
 to the animadversions of this fractious woman, upon the 
 character and acts of those, "the latchet of whose shoes 
 she was not worthy to unloose." I thought of Ala, became 
 calm and subdued. There are many like Mrs. Seaman in 
 
284 THE MOXTANAS. 
 
 the world ; one must learn, sooner or later, to deal with 
 them leniently ; so I did ; just as though, with profane feet, 
 she walked not into the sanctuary of our sorrow. 
 
 Miss Phoebe came from Ridgely, bearing a note address- 
 ed in the clear chirography of Clyde's uncle. She had 
 gone daih^, since his visit to the cotrage, to see the boy 
 who was the apple of her old eyes. Without asking to be 
 excused, I hastily perused the lines which summoned us 
 three to his side. My heart sank down with a il^w appre- 
 hension. I bade Miss Phoebe hasten dinner, that we might 
 go immediately. Mrs. Seaman took her place at the table, 
 so anxious to learn something more concerning the subject 
 which lay nearest her heart. 
 
 " I presume you are going to see that young man ? " 
 
 "Yes, madam, I certainly shall not fail to meet my 
 adopted brother, Col. Ingram, whom we all esteem ; despite 
 his position, an honorable gentleman ! " 
 
 The old lady was completely nonplussed ; something in 
 my manner suddenly checked her propensity to be inquisi- 
 tive concerning a matter in which our family alone should 
 have become involved. 
 
 To do the old lady justice, I must say she was not bad- 
 hearted in the main ; only meddlesome, sometimes. Of 
 late, she had been particularly gracious to Stanley ; had 
 sought her society in many instances. I think the manner 
 in which that young girl had gone on in her quiet round 
 of patient duty-doing, commanded her respect, as it had 
 ■won homage from those who had formerly denounced 
 her so fiercely. Mrs. Seaman was the mouth-piece of the 
 Wayburn social circle ; when its heart Avarmed towards 
 Stanley, she was the first to admit they had wronged her, 
 and to ask of the young girl toleration and forgiveness. 
 Stanley was grateful for this change, since it increased her 
 
THE MONTANAS. 285 
 
 capacity for usefulness in tlie community; grateful, too, 
 tbat her friends were no longer submitted to humi- 
 liation for her sake. Now she enjoyed a favoritism 
 strono-er in proportion than had been the original 
 persecution. 
 
 When Stanley came home at noon-time, we three took 
 silently our way to Ridgely. I had not been there since 
 winter had settled cold and bleak around the great square 
 house. . Now there were no wreathings about window or 
 colonnade ; only a few daisies, struggling with the snow, 
 like the hope that was in my heart. 
 
 The excitement of meeting us all once more, of coming 
 back to the haunts of his childhood, had borne Clyde up 
 wonderfully for a fortnight ; now this prop had failed him. 
 He lay, white and still, with lines of suflFering about his 
 mouth, though his eyes were clear and undimmed. The 
 marked change struck me dumb, when we were ushered 
 into his presence. He feebly held out his hand ; I pressed 
 it to my lips ; his head fell forward on his breast in the 
 effort to rise ; it was then I saw, what I had not before 
 Iniown — the ghastly wound, his bright hair stained with 
 gore. My soul grew sick within me ; then I realized how 
 much I had scarce consciously counted upon his recovery. 
 I signed Clyde's uncle to come with me to the parlor, and 
 tell me all that he feared; there is no agony like sus- 
 pense. 
 
 " It is a fearful wound — by mere chance has he escaped 
 death until now. The skull is broken ; we fear concussion 
 constantly ; then the pressure is at times so great as to 
 produce delirium. Poor boy, he is well aware of his danger. 
 Be calm ; any outburst may bring on the result we dread 
 so much." 
 
 I could not speak, but pressed his hand, and returned to 
 
286 THE MONTAXAS. 
 
 Clyde. By tacit consent they all witlidrew, leaving us alone 
 together. I held my breath, that I might not lose one 
 syllable of what he uttered : 
 
 " Ah ! Jennie, all my hopes and schemes in this world 
 have come to naught; life is a failure. I promised my 
 sainted mother I should achieve something in the conflict 
 with it ; but I could not. Now I shall take my place with 
 the rank and file of an army that is gathering fast, silently ; 
 we shall never more be placed on duty in mortJil conflict. 
 For me the service will soon be over ; the solitary ship has 
 long drifted o'er the blood-red tides, gleaming through this 
 dark night of strife, without rudder or compass to steer it 
 towards the port beyond. You could not love me, Jennie ; 
 yet you alone will be near me when I cast my anchor over 
 the boundary line. Behold ! light is breaking yonder on 
 the further strand, with its calm white swelling slopes of 
 peace. I once thought you loved Hayne ; then again. Lane 
 Austin ; now I think neither one nor the other, yet fear to 
 ask you the question I should have asked you long ago. 
 Read to me from the book my mother loved ; ah, would 
 that I had loved it too ! " 
 
 I knew not where I read, for through the mist of falling 
 tears I could not readily see my way ; but he seized upon 
 one sentence : " What is bound upon earth, shall be bound 
 in heaven." 
 
 " Jennie, I asked you a question once ; I told you the 
 answer was for all time. That, now, is a myth ! fate and 
 death are narrowing down the brief space that is left to us. 
 I have a few more days of life, then a higher hand shall 
 open wide the doors of my souFs prison. Now I repeat 
 that question ! not for this little span of days, but for all 
 eternity must the answer be. Have you ever loved?" 
 Truly souls are laid bare by death, the lashing scourge of 
 
THE MONTANAS. 287 
 
 mortality. My voice was clear as the sounding roll of some 
 far victory, when I said : 
 
 " Clyde, I have loved some one for long years, patiently, 
 hopelessly, silently. Ever since you came to me in the 
 light of a morning long ago by the golden river side, in 
 our youth — I have loved you." 
 
 For a long time his great joy was still, then it found voice : 
 " Ah ! I see it all now ! How much of suffering had 
 been spared me if this glorious truth had been revealed ere 
 I came to stand upon the failing sands of another shore — 
 another river gliding near — and I, a battle-scarred soldier, 
 will soon pitch my tent upon the further side. Yet I sol- 
 emnly swear of the world of women I have loved you — only 
 you — and have sought or cared for none other. How I 
 have waited and longed-for this day of final triumph ! Now 
 I ask you to let the answering love which you this hour 
 avow, stand revealed in sight of God and man ; be mine ! 
 give me leave to hope that I may claim you in the life to 
 come : in the great peace in which friend and enemy shall 
 stand side by side again." He held out both his hands to 
 me ! Over the great abyss which before had seemed to sepa- 
 rate us, I saw a bridge of flowers. To our lives of patient 
 waiting death had brought a rich reward, the breaking up 
 of those great immutable silences whose chains had bound 
 us in their thraldom. I promised to be all that he wished ; 
 by that bed of dissolution I knelt in union with him. The 
 tocsin sounding his release from an earthly prison, and the 
 roll-call of heaven, were our marriage bells ! the peal and the 
 poean of our wedded lives on earth — in death. Grand and 
 glorious over the everlasting hills of Zion shone the promise 
 that he would be mine for all eternity, who had been mine 
 for one short hour here. Xo fate should henceforth blot 
 out the memory of this one blissful truth. 
 
288 THE MOXTANAS. 
 
 As T knelt the full tides of the winter's sun, reddening as 
 he sank, came in at the casement and wrapped us in its 
 beams. My eyes wandered from terrace and spire to the 
 far New Hampshire hills, with a coronet of sunbeams about 
 each crest, and the bright river which ran at their feet. 
 The current ran golden 'neath the floods of light, streaming, 
 it seemed, through a wide, open door in the heavens. Now, 
 as I look back into the fading long ago, receiving the full 
 glory of that hour, I can count still the pulses of eternity 
 that throbbed in it. 
 
 To us, tried and purged as we had been, death would be 
 no barrier, only a little longer waiting the fruition of hopes 
 upspringing in life's sunset hour. By eternity's brink we 
 stood, Clyde holding my hand very tightly, while the sun 
 sank lower. The sands were falling, and the golden river 
 gliding on, on, bearing to a swift, sure end, his frail rem- 
 nant of vitality. 
 
 Thus they found us when Raymond, who had been sum- 
 moned at Clyde's request, came up a short time afterwards. 
 There by his side I kept my place while on earth he had 
 need of me ; we propped him up with pillows while he 
 spoke to Ra}Tnond of what lay heaviest on his heart — 
 bravely, fearlessly. 
 
THE MONTANAS. 289 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 " Death is the crown of life : 
 Were this denied, poor man would live in vain. 
 Death wounds to cure : we fall, we rise, we reign ; 
 Spring from our fetters — fastened to the skies, 
 "Where blooming Eden withers from our sight, 
 This king of terrors is the prince of peace." 
 
 Youxg's Night Thottghts. ~ 
 
 " Raymond, my brother, after all that has passed, we cannot 
 meet as enemies in these last days of mine upon the earth. 
 We learned our first lessons in life together, sheltered 'neath 
 the same roof-tree. We have been friends from boyhood, 
 yet are we bound by a still brighter link than this — it was 
 woven by an angel's fingers — your child's. Notwithstand- 
 ing all this, in obedience to the dictates of the powers you 
 serve, by the authority vested in you, / am your prisoner I 
 I have borne arms against the government whose loyal sub- 
 ject you are, whose protection I dare not claim ! Do with 
 me as you will. For the sake of all that has been and is, 
 shrink not from your duty." 
 
 Raymond was fearfully pale, now that the issue, so long 
 dreaded, was really come. He said not a word ; only trem- 
 bled visibly, as though the struggle between duty and the 
 old love raged strong within him. It was evident these 
 necessities had asserted themselves before, but his angel 
 had joined their hands together. Must the pleading love 
 of his dead child be set aside, and no shelter extended to 
 his brother in his hopeless helplessness ? 
 
 Clyde saw his struggle, and essayed to speak, with his 
 thin hand resting on my bowed head. 
 
 " You have never asked me, brother, why I have subjected 
 you to this fearful test. I had something I felt I must say 
 
 13 
 
290 THE MONTANA S. 
 
 to this poor child. I was left for dead within the enemy's 
 lines; I had nowhere else to go ; I did not pause to inquire 
 whether or not I would be an unwelcome guest in the house 
 of my old friend ; or that you, who had been reared in the 
 home of my father, should feel it to be your sacred duty 
 to send me forth an outcast, or retain me as your prisoner. 
 When I came to Ridgely I did not expect to die here ; I 
 thought it would all be over; I should have said my say, 
 and gone my way long since — this feverish wound has 
 proved too strong for me. In the first instance, I meant 
 only to remain here a few hours ; but for the illness of the 
 child, I should have completed my en-and in your absence. 
 Now, since I have told you why I am here, I will tell you 
 how it came to pass. 
 
 " Oh ! it was a fearful contest, that preceding my fall ; 
 the men fought grandly on both sides. I have led my 
 braves through many a gauntlet of Federal shot and shell, 
 but never were their breasts bared to volleys like those. A 
 ball struck my horse ; I fell with him ; the wound on my 
 head is a sabre cut, which left me entirely insensible. I 
 wore no uniform, consequently I was left with the heaps of 
 dead and dying on the slaughter-ground. The last thing I 
 remember was my faithful horse laying his head upon the 
 shoulder of the orderly who always groomed him when in 
 camp, who lay dead by my side. Twenty days lat^r. Col. 
 Austin found them thus, man and beast ; hence the sup- 
 position of my death. How long I lay unconscious I know 
 not ; when I awoke, as from a trance, there was a woman, 
 stately and beautiful, bending over me ; she assisted me to 
 her carriage, then conveyed me to a house near at hand. 
 It was Retta Austin, the Colonel's sister. During the reign 
 of Gen. Butler, the family had removed to their plantation 
 in Georgia, She informed me that Gen. Jolmston had 
 
THE MO XT AX AS. 291 
 
 breakfasted there the morning upon which I left camp, pro- 
 claiming in angi^ tones the sentence which awaited me for 
 having disobeyed orders, and pursued the foe to what he 
 foresaw would be certain destruction. Retta was well 
 aware a court-martial awaited me should I return to my 
 allegiance, even were such a thing possible, with the whole 
 of Sherman's army between them and me. She therefore 
 set about preparing a complete disguise, which I adopted ; 
 then insisted upon my appropriating enough of her gold 
 to insure me an unsuspicious passage North. Of course I 
 am very much obliged to her for her kindness, though I 
 beheve the girl is half demon. She vaunted her hatred for 
 the Yankees in a manner that quite surj^rised me. She 
 even boasted of having broken the eno^ao-ement between 
 Stanley and Hayne. Her treachery has been amply repaid 
 by the restless misery which consumes her now. 
 
 " T paused nowhere by the way, until I found myself at 
 Montreal. There I lay prostrate for months, gradually 
 growing more wasted. I asked my physician to tell me 
 frankly what I might depend upon. He informed me I 
 had not weeks to live. I motioned him to leave me, rose 
 at once to prepare for my journey hither. You know the 
 rest. 
 
 " Upon leaving Claremont you remember my regiment 
 Avas encamped at Brightland. I received what I considered 
 an excellent cash offer for my city property. I sold it to 
 prevent an ultimate transfer to strangers. Claremont with 
 its flowers and fountains, blue sky and distant stretch of. 
 sea, was purchased by an old friend of our family. He was 
 a distinguished rebel ; his property was confiscated and has 
 since been converted into a baiTacks for the soldiery. If I 
 had not sold it just when I did the loss would have been 
 ours. Brightland I retained. Here is a deed, Raymond, 
 
292 THE MONTAXAS. 
 
 executed two years ago. Brightland is yours ! You can 
 claim it should we ever have peace agaA Tlic gold for 
 which I sold Clareinont and its belongings — horses, furni- 
 ture, consei*vatory, all things partaining thereto, amount- 
 ing to fifty thousand dollars — you will find at Bright- 
 land. The old female servants, including Aunt Dinah and 
 Hawsy, are there still ! They are true, and will show you 
 where the money .is buried. Though for fear they may 
 have been removed, I will give you a plot of the ground 
 containing the deposit. Sand-banks are the only banks 
 which in seasons of war do not discount their paper, 
 more especially when the deposits are all in specie currency. 
 Now I have said all I wish to say, nothing remains but the 
 exercise of the power vested in you ; you are my execu- 
 tor. See to it that th'e girls are put in possession of this 
 money, and that it is properly invested for their future 
 needs. I am your prisoner ! If you fail to claim me as such 
 I must go elsewhere to die ; I cannot think of subjecting 
 you to the censure — punishment perhaps — which an omis- 
 sion of this nature must necessarily bring upon you." 
 
 Raymond was agonized beyond expression ; Clyde's con- 
 sideration for him was so delicate, his generosity so great, 
 even as his enemy his brotherly affection so strong! It 
 would be worse than traitorous to set aside all these con- 
 siderations and put the law in force. How could he do 
 what it seemed needful to do? Why was this horrible 
 alternative between duty and the old brotherhood pre- 
 sented ? When I looked upon Clyde's pale face I could 
 only exclaim : 
 
 " Oh ! Raymond, you wiU not, you cannot do this thing. 
 You say that Clyde is unchanged ; when leagues divided 
 you, you felt him to be your enemy. Now that you have 
 ceased for the time being to view things from a national 
 
THE MONTAKAS. 293 
 
 stand-point — ^have allowed individual issues to assert them- 
 selves — you know that he has never been so in reality ; that 
 what you and he feel as representatives of belligerent sec- 
 tions, affects very little those natural ties which are stronger 
 than life itself. That no conjuncture of circumstances 
 could ever make you less to each other than you now are. 
 Then wherefore exists a necessity for this thing ? " 
 
 Oh ! if, instead of the calculating heads which plan and 
 prosecute this war, the bleeding hearts of the revolution 
 were permitted to assert themselves, and obey the sweet 
 promptings of affection, in the opinion of those who suffer 
 peace would not be long in coming. Lips, now hopelessly 
 mute, might give utterance to their wild prayers ; and the 
 hero hands that supplicate so dumbly while striking ine\4- 
 tably those round whom their heart-strings fondly twine, 
 might give heed to the clamoriugs of voices louder than 
 the clarion notes of triumph. I speak of the many who 
 suffer for the crimes of those who deserve to suffer. Ray- 
 mond left the room, but returned presently with the war- 
 worn banner he had held at Fredericksburg. 
 
 " Clyde, I would give all I possess to-day to have you 
 share our hospitaUty under the folds of this old flag, as a 
 friend to the country, whose symbol it is. Like yourself, 
 my brother, its days of service are over, but we retain and 
 love it still. You have poured your volleys into it while 
 we held fast the standard in many a fierce charge ; but of 
 this we will not think to-day. Give homage to the old 
 banner during the remnant of your life, brother; be the 
 prodigal of our household! Receive our blessing and 
 God's joint birth-right to a higher inheritance than you, 
 in your noble generosity, have conferred upon us." 
 
 Clyde answered him,, speaking very sOrrowfnlly : 
 
 "You will, perhaps, discredit my words, though I tell 
 
294 THE MOKTANAS. 
 
 you solemnly, brother, I have no feeling of hatred for our 
 common country ; and I love that old flag for the many 
 times that I have seen it proudly waving over the whole 
 land, and from the mast-head of ships in which we crossed 
 seas together, though I cannot in honor now swear 
 fidelity to that which I have desecrated by raising my hand 
 to strike it in the dust. I was in the Southern army be- 
 cause circumstances rendered it imperative that I should be 
 there. My lot was cast with them. I have fulfilled my 
 destiny. I do not feel myself to be a coward ! And not 
 to save my own life, or to spare pain to those I love, would 
 I skulk behind an assumption of loyalty which my acts 
 have already disproved." 
 
 Raymond said no more on the subject; though they 
 talked almost gaily of the time that was long past and the 
 days that were ended. 
 
 Clyde waited ; Raymond struggled with his stem duty 
 and his sorrow. One Sabbath morning, warm and balmy 
 in March, we sat with open casements listening to the 
 Wayburn bells. The sun shone brightly without, and in 
 our two hearts was joy unspeakable. Oh ! it was so bliss- 
 ful to be belov^ed. Clyde drew me to him, saying : 
 
 " God is very good to us, Jennie." A closer nestling in 
 his fragile clasp was my only answer ; there was a glamour 
 in the air about me ; I thought I was dreaming, when I 
 heard voices inquiring for Mr. Kingswell in tones that were 
 loud and harsh. They were shown into the library adjoin- 
 ing; the door was slightly ajar, we could hear plainly all 
 they said. 
 
 " You have not been to church for manv weeks : whv is 
 this ? " inquired the deacon, Mr. Seaman, who had a cold 
 in his head and talked through his nose most woefully, Mr. 
 Kingswell replied in tones that were courteous yet firm : . 
 
THE MONTANAS. 295 
 
 " During the illness of my little grandchild, my Sabbath 
 services were given almost exclusively to her ; later, I have 
 had with me a relative who is so ill as to require my con- 
 stant care. I think, Mr. Seaman, our first duty to God lies 
 in these ministrations to our suffering fellow-men." 
 
 " It is evident you feel so, sir ; perhaps you are right ; 
 as for myself, I cannot exactly appreciate humanity exer- 
 cised at the expense of Christian principle." 
 
 " Excuse me, sir, I do not understand you ; be kind 
 enough to speak plainly. In the exercise of these holy du- 
 ties I do not feel that I have made any sacrifices of princi- 
 ple, or failed in my duty to God." 
 
 " Let him alone : he is joined unto his idols ! " exclaimed 
 Elder Bridgewater, in guttural tones resembling distant 
 thunder. " Come away, he will not hear us ; he is wed- 
 ded to his sin." I grew blind and sick at heart ; remem- 
 bering the conversation of Mrs. Seaman on one or two 
 occasions, I knew to what the self-righteous Pharisee re- 
 ferred. 
 
 " I do not understand you, gentlemen ; of what am I ac- 
 cused?" 
 
 "A few minutes since you did not deny ha\dng that 
 man, that spy, that double traitor, Colonel Ingram, here 
 under your own roof; and gave your care of him as an 
 excuse for your omissions in the Church of God. Now 
 you ask hypocritically, of what am I accused ? " 
 
 " I certainly never meant to deny the fact that my 
 nephew is here under my roof, and will remain here while 
 he lives. Be he what he may, or rather what he might 
 have been, Colonel Ingram is, I fear, fatally wounded, and 
 beyond the power of harming any one." Mr. Kingswell's 
 fearless avowal of these facts somewhat surprised them, and 
 disarmed, in a measure, their malig-nity ; at all events they 
 
296 THE MONTAN-AS. 
 
 were slow to speak again. At length, the pompous old 
 elder, whose mam characteristics were sanctitv, gold spec 
 tacles, ebony cane, voice grim and guttural, with much tug- 
 ging at his neck-tie, delivered himself as follows: 
 
 " Notwithstanding all you say, Mr. Kingswell, painful as 
 it may be, we have our duty to perform. The church had a 
 called meeting yesterday evening, and they appointed a com- 
 mittee of two to wait upon you at your residence and in- 
 form you of the proceedings of said meeting. What I have 
 to say is this. Unless you expel from your domicil that 
 traitor, from your bosom that serpent, you Avill be accused 
 before the Church of God, and your fault dealt with in no 
 very lenient manner. Now, by the holy Church whose in- 
 terests you have served, of which you have long been a 
 consistent member, ponder well what I have said — let it 
 
 weigh " 
 
 " Just this far, gentlemen, no further. I have, as you 
 say, lived long in the Church ; I should regret that anything 
 should come to mar the harmony of my life there ; yet I 
 have ever been influenced by a higher authority than the 
 law and creed of said Church. I have come this day to feel 
 as I felt once before, that an edifice claimirior to be the 
 sanctuary of God may possess external evidence, but 
 nothing of the spirit of the Great Master, who cast, as you 
 did, no stone at the erring, whom you would not have 
 bidden as He did, to 'go and sin no more.' You would 
 drive such not only from the world's clemency, but from 
 God's. Is your spirit consistent with that of true Chris- 
 tianity, manifested by the old patriarch, who killed the 
 fatted calf when his prodigal returned ? Is there any room 
 in your heart, filled full of altars reared to the God of the 
 upright, for the weary wanderer who perchance would lay 
 aside his sin and come back to the forsaken way, were your 
 
THE MONTANAS. 297 
 
 strong hands but outstretched to receive him ? any room 
 for the exercise of that justice, which * as ye mete to others 
 shall be meted unto you again ? ' any charity for the unre- 
 pentant transgressor for whom a God died ? If within His 
 tabernacles on the earth I stand condemned for what I 
 have done and am doing, then deal with me as you like : 
 my conscience sustains me ; to a higher tribunal will I ap- 
 peal. God is not only just, and kind, and loving ; he has 
 not closed the doors of his great heart upon those for whom 
 the way and the warfare proved too much. I have done. 
 May the Father in his mercy strengthen and sustain me ! " 
 
 Ah ! and he will, dear noble heart. Here was manifest 
 the spirit which, all my life I had recognised and worshipped 
 in Clyde's uncle. The high moral integrity which ever 
 characterized his dealings with his fellow-men, was nothing 
 compared to his soul of justice and charity. I crept close 
 to him, kissed his hand reverently, then led him to where 
 Clyde lay, calm-faced, patiently awaiting. He, too, looked 
 and spoke proudly the man that was in him. 
 
 "Uncle, I am glad for the trial that has come to you, 
 and the noble words that I have heard you speak. I am 
 enabled now to see my way and duty clearly ; no false 
 scruples of honor shall deter me from the performance of 
 that duty. As regards the great- crime for which I stand 
 condemned, I leave that to God. May my transgression 
 be blotted out by this return to my allegiance. Send for 
 my brother, his wish shall be respected ; in due form will I 
 swear to support the old flag ; and ere I die we will shake 
 hands once more under its starry folds." 
 
 Long and sweet was the conference that ensued. Thus 
 came peace to our household. Sweet Ala Ray, what had 
 not thy blessed influence accomplished ! 
 
 Long protracted had been the struggle with duty in 
 
 13* 
 
298 THE MONTANA S. 
 
 Raymond's heart ; he could not bring himself to arrest Clyde ; 
 his brother should be permitted to die in peace, even 
 thouf>"h he suffered court-martial for the omission. 
 
 o 
 
 He had promised his little daughter he would come home 
 to stay when the daisies bloomed ;. he sent on his resigna- 
 tion, which was accepted previous to the expiration of his 
 term of sendee. 
 
 His gratitude was boundless when he learned the purpose 
 for which he was summoned a second time ; his banner had 
 spoken for him ; his country was \indicated ; so was his 
 brother. 
 
 Not so, however, in the estimation of those self-righteous 
 men who had expostulated with Mr. Kingswell in the 
 morning. They returned at nightfall, with a detachment 
 of home guards from a neighboring town, and demanded 
 that Col. Ingram should be delivered up to them. Ray- 
 mond, strangely moved, advanced to the leader, with drawn 
 sword, bade him halt and await his commands. Messrs. 
 Seaman and Bridgewater, from the rear, made use of some 
 impatient and rather unchristian-like expletives, which, 
 however, availed them little. Thus they kept guard until 
 morning. 
 
 Within — ah ! within, the man's spirit was lea\ing its 
 clay ; peacefully, gently, as the child who went before, his 
 soul passed away. All night we watched, until the morn- 
 ing; then there was only the white face of the dead, and 
 the morning of a new life. Very calmly he slept the pale 
 sleep, and we spread the old flag over him as he lay 
 there. 
 
 "Gentlemen," said Raymond, in a harsh, stern voica^ 
 advancing a second time to where the guard stood waiting, 
 " allow me to conduct you to the prisoner." 
 
 They came into the death-chamber, followed by the 
 
THE MO NT AN AS. 299 
 
 deacon and the elder, who looked so abashed and crest- 
 fallen, it was piteous to behold them. 
 
 " Gentlemen," continued Raymond, " this little handfol 
 of dust is what you have been warring with for days and 
 weeks ; bring your strength to bear upon it ; scatter it to 
 the winds ; he was a traitor, but one who came, when death 
 pressed him hard, to clasp the hand of his mother's son, 
 and die under the folds of the old flag. When you have 
 satisfied yourselves, you may withdraw ; this prisoner whom 
 you sought is my comrade and brother; with the honors 
 of war he shall be buried." 
 
 And thus was buried Clyde Ingram, of Claremont. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 *^'Ti3 morning again on the tents and the spears, 
 But the soldier's voice is for ever still— 
 There's a form that io missed from om- cavaliers ; 
 There's a sweet face blarred with its bitter tears ; 
 There's a new-made grave on the hill." 
 
 Col. Hawkins, C. S. A. 
 
 This wail kept ringing through my heart, low and plain- 
 tive as the voice of spring, which came not as our South- 
 em springs; true, the dun skies cleared into blue, birds 
 sang, and flowers upsprang at the sunbeam's touch, yet 
 there was in the air a haze as of slow falling tears; broken 
 wreaths of snow lay on the new-made graves long after we 
 counted the pulses of coming warmth; until the slopes 
 were green, and verdure clothed the far New Hampshire 
 hills, and distant fens gathered mossy sprays. I thought 
 how the cypress bloomed in coral clusters in our far-otf 
 
300 THE MONTANA S. 
 
 Southern home, while we gathered their black garlands in 
 another land. AATiere were the orange blossoms on our 
 home shore, from which the gulf rolled waves of green to 
 a wide, wide reach of sea ? Alas ! neither of us would 
 ever wear one little wreath of the bright symbols that had 
 grown about our youth. Stanley's white wreath — another 
 had worn it ; my garland was of cypress. To us were left 
 only memories of the days that had been ; that would be 
 no more ; and — 
 
 OUR DEAD. 
 
 "Nothing is our own; we hold our pleasures 
 
 Just a little while^ ere they are fled ; 
 
 One bj one life robs us of our treasures ; 
 
 Nothing is our own except our dead. 
 
 They are ours, and hold in faithful keeping, 
 
 Safe for ever, all they took away. 
 Cruel life can never stir that sleeping ; 
 
 Cruel time can never seize that prey. 
 
 Justice pales ; truth fades ; stars fall from heaven ; 
 
 Human are the great whom we revere ; 
 No true crown of honor can be given, 
 
 TUl the wreath hes on a funeral bier. 
 
 How the children leave us — and no traces 
 
 Linger of that smiling angel band ; 
 Gone, for ever gone ; and in their places, 
 
 "Weary men and anxious women stand. 
 
 Yet we have some Httle ones, still ours ; 
 
 They have kept the baby smile, we know, 
 "WTiich we kissed one day, and hid with flowers, 
 
 On their dead white faces long ago. 
 
 When our joy is lost, and life wUl take it, — 
 Then no memory of the past remains, 
 
THE MOyTANAS. 301 
 
 Save with some strange, cruel things, that makes it 
 Bitterness beyond all present pains. 
 
 Death, more tender-hearted, leaves to sorrow, 
 
 Still the radiant shadow, fond regret ; 
 "We shall find, in some far bright to-morrow, 
 
 Joy that he has taken, Uving yet. 
 
 Is love ours, and do we dream we know it, 
 Bound with all our heart-strings, all our own ? 
 
 Any cold and cruel dawn may show it, 
 Shattered, desecrated, overthrown. 
 
 Only the dead hearts forsake us never: 
 Love, that to death's loyal care has fled, 
 
 Is thus consecrated ours for ever, 
 
 And no change can rob us of our dead. 
 
 So when fate comes to besiege our city, 
 
 Dim our gold, or make our flowers faU, 
 Death, the Angel, comes in love and pity, 
 
 And to save our treasures, claims them aU. 
 
 Littell's Living Age. 
 
 Yes, our dead were ours in trutli ; though a wide rough 
 world lay between us, yet how brightly shone hope on the 
 journey o'er which we should pass to join them in one 
 of those far bright to-morrows, whose nights were under 
 the eternal stars. There was no denying the space in my 
 life ; a space all shadowed by a grave in spring-time ; though 
 the chords of my soul were swept by a spirit-hand, and 
 that space outstretching towards the broad everywhere in 
 the dim-lying future, could be filled by no lesser radiance. 
 I had loved him ! There was glory in that one great 
 truth, which no after prevarication could cancel or circum- 
 stance annul ; the destiny of two souls lay in its wide 
 compass. I knew that I lived on in that dead heart, passed 
 beyond the reach of time and change. It was a higher will 
 
302 THE MONTANA S. 
 
 than chance that placed this burden on my life. There 
 was enough of joy in this consciousness to palliate the hun- 
 ger in my desolate heart. God, who is God of the van- 
 quished, as well as of the victor and the fallen, was his 
 God ; in this trust there was a holy peace. 
 
 Another change had come to pass in Raymond's home ; 
 a little daughter was added to the household. Before Ala 
 died the parents had wished for a son ! Now they were glad 
 it was otherwise. Little Jamie, Leah's child, had been 
 adopted as their own ; not to fill the lost one's place, we 
 could not have borne that — but he had grown into our 
 hearts strangely of late. Leah's gratitude was boundless, 
 but William Kingswell never heard her thanks, though it 
 was he who brought the matter about. 
 
 This spring-time brought home Frederick Seaman from 
 a long tarrying over seas. He had made a great deal 
 of money. Not daring to visit Leah in person, he wrote 
 several letters, asking for her hand ; proposing to relinquish 
 all claims to the child, which bore its mother's name. Leah 
 manifested the true dignity, latent in her character, by omit- 
 ting to give heed to his proposals in whatever shape they 
 came. He had wooed and won her once, and then betrayed 
 her trusting love. For her faith in him she had endured 
 years of ignominy and shame ; he exhibited no penitence 
 that he had caused her to suffer. She had been weak, very 
 weak, but now she could be strong, for right was on her 
 side. By our aid she had worked her way up from mazes 
 of sin, and stood firmly in God's clear light once more. 
 "We were rejoiced to feel that our confidence was not mis- 
 placed. 
 
 Captain Bob Eldridge, on his death-bed, sent for William 
 Kingswell. I was at Ridgely when the summons came. 
 Poor old man, whose sense of shame was stronger than 
 
THE MONTANAS. 303 
 
 the ties of natural affection — who could never bring him- 
 self to exercise forgiveness towards others, not even his own 
 kindred, now had need himself to be forgiven. He had 
 come down to that last strait in life when we all feel 
 more or less our dependence and reliance upon one another. 
 When Clyde's uncle went to him I pleaded to go too ; I had 
 found my way by his side, up many a steep of suffering, 
 since Clyde left me in the wide world, with no destiny 
 only to work my way to him once more. 
 
 I had not seen Capt. Bob since we went to ask of him a 
 home for Leah and her nameless child. Xow I pitied the 
 old man from my soul ; over those stormy gorges of pas- 
 sion he had not found the pathway clear to God's love and 
 peace. He had gone downhill ever since ; the room yawned 
 with the meao-reness of its few articles of furniture. He 
 lay upon a miserable pallet, made of blankets soiled and 
 torn — the grey old miser, alone in crowds, and childless in 
 sight of his children ; in want, with plenty to make him 
 independent. A few minutes after we entered, a young 
 man came in, bringing a bowl of gruel from a neighboring 
 restaurant. I observed him narrowly while he ministered 
 to the feeble old man, who vouchsafed a few words to him 
 in return for his kindness. 
 
 " Now lay me down, Fred." Then, turning to Mr. Kings- 
 well, he said in tones broken with misery : 
 
 " Of all the fiiends and messmates who flocked about me 
 in my days of prosperity, he alone has volunteered to stand 
 by me in this bitter hour." 
 
 Ah ! thought I, long years ago he had denied his only 
 child that privilege, and Fred. Seaman was the cause there- 
 of. He looked abashed in presence of Mr. Kingswell, and 
 said, half-apologetically, with a dash of his old spirit : (I 
 realized who it was that poor Leah so loved. Oh, had his 
 
304 THE MONTANAS. 
 
 principle been strong enough to sustain those generous and 
 tender impulses, how different it might have been with 
 both ! Perchance they had not then come under the hard 
 ban of the transgressor.) 
 
 " I found the old man on the street when I returned from 
 abroad. He, you are well aware, is father to the woman 
 who should have been my -v^dfe. I have come often to his 
 shelter-tent, and shall continue to do so while he needs me, 
 which, I imagine, will not be for long. He wished to see 
 you — that is why I sent the message which you have so 
 promptly responded to. I do not think he is quite satis- 
 fied that I am by his side, though if I had not chanced 
 to be here he might have died alone. Mr. Kingswell, you 
 are a good man, a God-fearing man ; you will acquit me in 
 this matter of any motive save that of trying, in a very 
 slight measure, to atone for the wrong done to parent and 
 child. I do not want the wealth that he has hoarded ; I 
 could never be brought to touch a penny of it ; I should 
 accept nothing save that which he once refused to bestow 
 upon me — which, after having won, I trifled away, because 
 I had not moral strength to keep it. This gift and favor 
 you may have it in your power to confer upon me ; at least, 
 you may influence matters to that end, when I have re- 
 purchased my integrity, and earned an honest man's right to 
 ask it of you, who, for a long time, have been her only friend. 
 Almost six years ago, when you picked me up on the hill- 
 side, a miserable drunkard, and I heard your pitying words, 
 I resolved to do this thing, though there were scores of 
 good Pharisees crying: *He is lost!' Ah, yes! Lost, 
 with God's world around me, and my manhood within ; 
 lost, because they refused to lift me from my fallen estate 
 and stand me on my feet again ; lost, because at the man- 
 date of such, society had barred her gates against me, and 
 
TUE MOKTANAS. 305 
 
 against the woman whom passion, not love, had profaned ; 
 and upon the brow of each of us had written that damning 
 word — outcast ! No, no ; not all lost ! In the mazes of 
 my beastly intoxication, I heard your words ringing clear 
 in my understandinop heart : 
 
 ' When I see a man thus debased and fallen, I do not feel 
 hke thanking God that I am not as that man is, but that 
 I have not been tempted as he has been.' 
 
 " Ah, sir, those words saved me ! Not feeling strong 
 enough to climb the steep passes to the world's favor here, 
 I fled from temptation. Since I crossed the ocean I have 
 not tasted ardent spirits. From my old boon compa- 
 nions, who did not forget me, I learned how the same dis- 
 ciple who had uplifted me in my sorrowful abasement, had 
 taken to his own home the victim of my wrong. I resolved 
 to show you that there is no man, however low he may 
 have fallen, who, by a little timely aid, may not reform, 
 if there are any to point the way. Had you spumed me, 
 as did others of your set, I might now be consumed by 
 those still fires which the waters of repentance sometimes 
 fail to quench." 
 
 " Who dare be silent, when by chance they may speak 
 so strong a word for God and man ? " thought I, while 
 young Seaman continued to talk : 
 
 " There is a secret which not even poor Leah knows ; the 
 old man may tell you — I have done ; " though he stood 
 still holding his hat as though there was something he 
 would say. Then in a husky voice, through which trickled 
 the tears that were in the hazy air of that spring-]jme, he 
 continued : 
 
 " If you will allow me, I would like to ask you about 
 Leah, though I feel that she is much too good for me. I 
 should not come a second time to seek her, did I not be- 
 
306 THE MONT AN AS. 
 
 lieve her, of all the women I have ever known, the most vir- 
 tuous — the most upright by nature. No man, unless bj 
 the same avenues of her strong love through which I led 
 her, could ever win her as I did. Knowing this, I suppli- 
 cate of you the gift of her hand in marriage. I will not 
 ask this of her father ; had he not once denied Leah to me, 
 it might have been different. My mother is anxious and 
 willing now to receive her as my wife. As for the child, I 
 am glad for his sake that your son has adopted him ; I 
 have forfeited the right to claim him. I shall hear your 
 decision." 
 
 " Nobody shall claim the right to provide for that child 
 except myself," exclaimed Captain Bob, almost fiercely. 
 " My money shall be his ! Since poor Alice died, and 
 Leah left me, I have toiled on for his sake to this end. My 
 old, desolate heart yearned over him ; but I gave no sign, 
 for he was in William Kingswell's house." Then turning 
 to Clyde's uncle : " Send the girl away — I have something 
 I must say : the night is coming on, and I would be alone 
 with you." 
 
 It was growing late and we left them, Fred and I — the 
 righteous and the unforgiving together — and came down 
 the hill trampling the daisies of spring beneath our feet. 
 I had been both pleased and affected at the young man's 
 recital ; so much so, I promised to use my influence with 
 Leah for his sake. Thus it came about, that this man, 
 whom I had long held in superstitious horror, aloof from 
 my thoughts even, because of his wrong to my friend, 
 now that I had met him face to face, and saw suffering 
 where before I had seen only sin ; had recognised his gene- 
 rous self-abnegation, his tender love and manly truth; 
 I found myself espousing his cause ere I was aware of it. 
 I had come, reader, to feel what we all must, should those 
 
THE MONTANAS. 307 
 
 in whom we have an mterest err and fall — to separate the 
 sinner from the fault, and not confound the first wrong step 
 which may be retraced, with an after career of abandon- 
 ment. I trust none of us can have sympathy or affiliation 
 with hardened guilt; yet it is only Christian-like to 
 discriminate between those who sin from impulse 
 against principle, and those who have no principle to 
 violate. 
 
 During our walk home, Fred told me what I was puzzled 
 and confounded to hear, exhorting me, at the same time, 
 not to repeat it until the season came in which it might be 
 revealed. That night, with Stanley's golden head lying 
 close to mine, looking over the starry way to heaven, I 
 pondered of that strange revelation. 
 
 Mr. Kingswell prevailed upon Captain Bob to see Leah. 
 Thus, in the presence of God and the dying, she and Fred 
 renewed their vows. Little Jamie, too, was brought by 
 Eaymond to kiss the withered cheek of his grandsire. He 
 returned home carrying a bag well filled with gold coin, 
 which the old man had given him with his own hand just 
 before he passed away. After that conference with William 
 Kingswell, Captain Bob Eldridge seemed well contented to 
 go, and waited patiently for the time to come when his 
 master should call him. I know not what Clyde's uncle 
 said to him from time to time, but the messages were those 
 of peace, which came with its golden tides coursing hke 
 the river of my dream which broke its billows, now, on dim, 
 far shores of the eternal. The members of that widely- 
 sundered band were di'awn together by the shining links 
 of that peace, bound fast for time to come. Then by the 
 grave in the field where the poor of Way burn were buried, 
 another grave was made, and two white stones reared side 
 by side in the spring-time : the voice that had prayed that 
 
308 THE MOirrANAS. 
 
 strange, solemn prayer of faith when Ala slept, was up- 
 raised here. 
 
 After a few days — in the old church, in the bright village 
 
 green — Leah and Fred were married. In the very presence 
 of Mr. Seaman and those who had dared to cry her down, 
 she became the wife of this young man, who belonged to 
 one of the first families in the place. Notwithstanding the 
 array of hollow smiles and malicious home-thrusts incident to 
 such occasions, there were many who were rejoiced that it 
 was so, and who gave it as their opinion that Leah had 
 only been justly dealt by. Mrs. Seaman said she always 
 felt that Leah was a good girl, and ought to be encouraged ; 
 so my friend, bearing no resentment, accepted the proffered 
 hand of the woman who had always treated her in her 
 neighbor's house as in her own, as a menial, w^hose pre- 
 sence she could barely tolerate. But that was all passed 
 now; Leah was justified by the world that had renounced 
 her. 
 
 I met Clyde's uncle in the graveyard, one afternoon. 
 He led me to a seat, very tender in manner ; he saw the 
 tears upon my cheek. 
 
 " Jennie, I honor you for those tears ; I know how true 
 to the dead your heart is, but you will, in time, become 
 reconciled to the decree of Providence. You will love 
 again ; you will marry." 
 
 I was wounded ; he felt that I was, for he took my hand, 
 saying : 
 
 " I must tell you the story of my youth ;- 1 believe there 
 is some such cross in every life. We learn to bear it ; grow 
 accustomed to the burden ; it is but just and right that it 
 should be so." 
 
 " Such a cross in every life ? Surely not in yours ? " 
 
 " Yes ; one that well nigh drove me mad." 
 
THE MONTANAS. 309 
 
 " Long years ago, in a seaport town, I lived with my 
 pious parents and only sister, in an old homestead, very 
 quaint and curiously wrought, after the Puritan fashion. My 
 father was generous and high-souled, a Mnd husband, a 
 strong staff to my mother, who was blind. He had brought 
 her from Scotland ; a minstrel of wondrous beauty, he 
 seemed to love her more for her entire dependence on him. 
 In my sister there was early manifest a strange disposition 
 to wander from the home-ways ; whenever she heard a 
 snatch of a song our mother had sung to us, she would 
 follow the sound until she found the singer. Once or twice 
 she lost herself in the vain attempt, and we were compelled 
 to summon assistance in seeking her out. Alice grew up 
 very beautiful ! Hers was a strange, classic beauty, superb 
 in repose, and when animated is what men will dare all 
 things and die for. Several gentlemen of wealth and re- 
 finement, in our circle, sought her hand ; she gave heed to none 
 of them, for her heart was untouched. It remained so un- 
 til a stranger of great beauty — a wonderful singer, a sailor 
 by occupation — knowing that we would never consent to 
 the arrangement, sought her clandestinely. They had met 
 by chance ; the acquaintance was well begun ere our know- 
 ledge of it. With that perverseness which had always 
 characterized her, my beautiful sister gave to the untaught 
 sailor that which others had sought for in vain. He laugh- 
 ingly boasted of having won 
 
 " * The girl who gave to song what gold could never buy.' 
 
 "We forbade him to see her again; then came the 
 sequel : she fled with him, leaving no line to relieve our sus- 
 pense. I had never believed his intentions to be honora- 
 ble towards my sister ; now, of course, we feared the worst, 
 
310 THE MONT AN AS. 
 
 and the shame bowed me to the very dust. My grief was 
 purely selfish ; I was engaged to a beautiful girl, whose 
 parents withdrew their sanction to our union because of 
 the ignominy that had come upon our "house. 
 
 ** In my fierce soitow, I thought only of my own hard 
 loss, and did not pity, as I should have done, our poor, 
 blind mother, who sat helplessly, day after day, moaning 
 with hands outstretched piteously towards the sea, over 
 which we supposed Alice had gone ; and the old father, 
 who stooped lower daily with the weight that was growing 
 upon him. Ere long, we received a taunting letter from 
 Alice's betrayer, which I did not answer. Then one from 
 her, in which she made no mention of her fault, even spoke 
 as though she had not committed one, telling me she was 
 very happy in her European home. This so exasperated 
 me, I wrote to her bitterly, angrily, that she should never 
 again manifest to me, by word or deed, the humiliating 
 fact that we abode in the same world together. I after- 
 wards regretted my harshness, when repentance was of no 
 avail; and not until other years with their trials came, did 
 I realize how unkind I had been to my parents and to her. 
 The grass grows green upon their graves now ; that old 
 home has long been desolate. 
 
 " Oh ! how I mourned my broken dream ! Sorrow passed, 
 leaving me only despair. I was too proud to supplicate 
 for the hand that had once been given me ; yet only God 
 knew what I suffered in the sundering of those bright 
 bonds. She had been brought to believe that I no longer 
 wished that she should be my wife. Nothing but this re- 
 flection could have induced her to relinquish me ; my cold- 
 ness and sUence confirmed the belief incited by the doubts 
 of her parents. 
 
 " Thev made known their wishes ; she, gentle, yielding, 
 
THE MONTAXAS. 311 
 
 became the wife of a ricli and elegant Soutlienier. I thouglit 
 my heart was broken ! I fled before the profanation of my 
 high hopes. I left home — came away from the hated 
 scenes. Here, in this lovely spot, through its vales of 
 quietness, by the rolling river-side and the light of morning 
 on those far hills, I found my way to God after a few years. 
 When the Father had given me strength to go, I went 
 home and remained until the old people were gone. She, 
 too, was gone, my beautiful Edith, with her proud, haughty 
 husband, to his southera home. Her grave is there now, 
 under the flowers of this spring-time. 
 
 " Long afterwards, when it was little triumph to know the 
 fact, I learned how deeply she had loved me. She wrote, 
 on the death of her husband, telling me all ; asking me to 
 be a father to her husband's son. That son was Clyde In- 
 gram ! She afterwards married your uncle ; Raymond and 
 Stanley were her children. I loved them, but not as I 
 loved Clyde — he was my own : his youth was passed with 
 me here. You, Jennie, have often called me Clyde's uncle ! 
 I was your own as much as his. Shortly after Edith's 
 second marriage, I married Mary Mellville, whom I met 
 on my return home, and brought her back with me to 
 Waybum. She has been a good and true wife, and we 
 have lived happily in the performance of our duties to each 
 other and to God. There was in my feeling for her none 
 of the wild, clinging tenderness of the former passion, but 
 something deeper, truer, more enduring than the first. 
 She is very dear to me now. Towards my son, the best 
 beloved of my heart, I have performed the last duty. He 
 never knew quite how well I loved him, or how I prayed 
 after he had taken that one wrong step that he might come 
 back to us, if only to die. My prayer, thank God, was 
 granted. 
 
312 THE MONTANA S. 
 
 " As for my sister, I am rejoiced to know she did not fall. 
 Captain Bob Eldridge, whom we knew, wjis Alice's lawful 
 husband; and Leah, the homeless outcast, to whom we 
 gave shelter, was her child. Jennie, I have often read that 
 sacred promise, 'Cast thy bread upon the waters and it 
 shall return after many days.' 'VMio could have guessed 
 that little act of kindness would be thus requited ; that we 
 were extending charity to those of our own household ! 
 
 " Then we two came and stood by the graves ; every life 
 is growing fuller of them in these battle-days ; the land 
 seems one great burial-place. 
 
 " Our baby minstrel is singing to-night ! I often hear her 
 little voice, and fancy I see her sweet eyes looking to me 
 from the world of light : the radiance nestles and warms 
 my soul." 
 
 For me the altar-fires of another love, too, were burning 
 as we came up the broad street to Ridgely. I saw the 
 fair round moon far over the New Hampshire hills, and the 
 bright river ran crystal clear to the distant sea. The 
 lights of om' home shone sweetly as we came from the 
 shadows without into their brightness. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 " Thou art the friend 
 To whom the shadows of long years extend.** 
 
 Btkon'b Chtldb Habou). 
 
 It was the anniversary of Stanley's birthday. Our cottage 
 was lovely to see ; we had woven wreaths for its pictures, 
 and in each vine-trellised window we placed a nosegay of 
 
THE MONTANAS. 313 
 
 flowers from the garden walk, over which an angel's feet 
 had lately passed. Miss Phoebe, arrayed in her favorite 
 gown, was preparing tea for our expected guests. 
 
 First came Leah and Frederick, serenely happy ; then 
 Raymond, proud and handsome, with Mary, on whose face 
 ^^as the bloom of her youthful beauty, brmgmg their 
 bright-haired boy and baby girl; a happy family, sorrow- 
 chastened, but happy still. Then came Mr. and Mrs. 
 Kmgswcll, calm, serene, as usual. 
 
 Stanley was engaged in conversation with George Seaman, 
 younger son of our old friend, who had avenged Stanley 
 on his mother, by falling in love with her. The old lady, 
 however, strongly urged the matter, and devoted all her 
 energies to bring about this union. She worked assiduously. 
 Miss Phoebe maliciously insinuated that she seemed more 
 anxious after becoming aware of Clyde Ingram's legacy to 
 us. I could not fail to observe how intently she watched 
 them from a settee, over her round, bowed spectacles; her 
 countenance evincing the satisfaction she could not conceal. 
 Well, she might have gone further, and found for her son 
 no lovelier bride. Stanley was very beautiful that night. 
 She wore a muslin of pure white, relieved only by brooch 
 and pendants of jet; her curls flowed; again the bright 
 crunson shone through her clear cheeks, and her eyes were 
 bright as stars, hghted with a hope she could not have 
 defined, and did not understand. Here beau-cavaher re- 
 marked this, and she answered him gaily : 
 
 " It is my dress, I presume ; well, I have worn black for 
 three years, and worked hard; I feel free to-night, myste- 
 riously happy ; why, I cannot say." 
 
 " I wish I dared to hope that my presence " 
 
 He ceased to speak. Mr. Milverton came in ; in my 
 greetings of him, I failed to perceive, for the rooms were 
 
314 THE MONTANA S. 
 
 filling rapidly, that a stranger hadstepped in at the bay- 
 window, which opened on the garden path. He stood 
 holding his hat, heavily shrouded with crape, silently regard- 
 ing the scene, himself unperceived. His hungry eyes were 
 fixed on Stanley, as she gracefully crossed the room, with 
 young Seaman, to welcome Milverton. He heard the 
 oflBcious mother say : 
 
 " Oh, yes ! I am sure they will be married very soon ; of 
 course Miss Montana will not refuse my son ; I know she 
 thinks the world of him, and he worships the very ground 
 she walks on." 
 
 Just then the young man restored her fan, which she 
 chanced to let fall. She thanked him, with a slight inclina- 
 tion of her queenly head, and the smile so radiant it dazzled 
 him more than her words. Both were misconstrued by 
 the haughty stranger, who, in a paroxysm of intense pain, 
 retreated, unrecognised. Milverton soon made known to 
 me the facts in the case ; then I went into the garden to 
 search for the renegade, whom I found pacing the walks like 
 a madman. After shaking his hand warmly, and expressing 
 my pleasure that we had met again, I said reproachfully : 
 
 " Cousin Warren, is this your return for the love of that 
 heart that was so true to you, even in its hopelessness ? " 
 
 " Ah, Jennie, you know not how madly I love that 
 woman ; as a girl she was never half so dear to me ; now 
 to see an insipid \dllain sueing for her smiles ; and I cast 
 ofi", forgotten." 
 
 " Warren, for Heaven's sake, desist ; are you deranged ? 
 remember Stanley had no right to cherish of you the frailest 
 memory. By so doing she would sin less against another 
 than her own peace of mind. You forget she does not know 
 that you are free ; I myself was not aware of it until you 
 came here to-night." 
 
THE MONTANAS. 315 
 
 " That is suflScient reason for her having eschewed the 
 memory of her former friend." 
 
 " Warren, you are as unreasonable as ever ; she is coming. 
 I bade Milverton send her to me here : conceal yourself in 
 the summer-house." 
 
 He obeyed. She came singing down the garden-way, 
 her golden waves of hair brightening in the moonlight. 
 How like a time of old breathed the enchantment around 
 us to-night. 
 
 " Well, Jennie darling, what do you happen to want of 
 me? I left Mr. Milverton to play hostess in my place, 
 while I came in answer to your summons." 
 
 " Oh, a fit of musing blues, perhaps, drove me forth. I 
 have been thinking of that first summer so long gone, and of 
 the other things that have so changed since then." 
 
 " Try not to think about it at all, dear ; it only makes you 
 sad. I try not to do so." 
 
 " Nevertheless, that old dream of yours, Stanley, you have 
 not forgotten." 
 
 " Oh ! would that I could forget it, or that the memory 
 was not so hopeless ; for. Jennie, a vision often crosses my 
 daily work, of how another head is pillowed on the heart 
 that should have been my own. It is very hard to think 
 o^ though. I am afraid'l shall never be strong enough to 
 live and remember no more * what might have been.' " 
 
 Ah ! cypress flowers entwined with her orange wreath ; 
 these withered where the fountain showered its diamond 
 spray in drops that were countless as the tears we wept for 
 that shadowy, unreal " might have been." 
 
 " Think of it no more, dearest, all that was so vain in 
 the past ; greater happiness awaits you ; a joy that will not 
 leave you, dear, as that did. Do not start, do not scream. 
 Warren Hayne is a free man — his wife has been dead for 
 
316 THE MONTANAS. 
 
 fifteen months — he is yours; you shall see him within this 
 hour." 
 
 I thought she was going to fall, she was so pallid. She 
 clasped her hands wildly over her brow, unable to compre- 
 hend her bliss, then said piteously : 
 
 " Oh ! don't, Jennie ; it has always been so vain." 
 
 " Do not say it is vain any more, Stanley ; come to my 
 heart, my own darling ; it shall be your home henceforth ; 
 none shall ever take it from you now." 
 
 She ran into the arms outstretched, and was clasped to 
 his true heart. 
 
 "Warren, am I dreaming, is it true, shall it be at last, 
 then?" 
 
 " Yes, darling ; pleasant dreams of a bliss too long defer- 
 red, though blissful yet ; I thank God for my joy and your 
 love." 
 
 The old caressing tones — ^how like music they were as he 
 talked on. 
 
 " We shall have another wreath of Northern orange 
 blossoms, darling, for your golden hair. Ere we go back 
 where I may look upon the faces of the good people assem- 
 bled in your cottage home, you must name the day which 
 will make me the happiest of men. I want to congratulate 
 Mrs. Seaman ! how cruel I am to "have spoiled her plan of 
 calling you daughter. Well, well, it matters little ; I have 
 not forgotten her propensity to interfere with others less 
 deservintr than mvseli." 
 
 The moon came up, as I had seen her many a time, cheery 
 and bright, above the New Hampshire hills. Those two 
 ■passed down the garden-way, the glory round them, while 
 I knelt in the silence and thanked God ferv^ently. 
 
 Milverton had announced Warren's arrival. When we 
 reentered the house all eyes were turned upon Stanley, 
 
THE MONTANAS. 317 
 
 t 
 
 who, flushed with her happiness, leaned gracefuUy upon 
 the arm of her betrothed. Even Mrs. Seaman saw how it 
 
 would be. 
 
 The morning came — the morning of their bridal ; mists 
 paled, and the noon welled in its tides of glory ; softly fell 
 the evening-time. Ah! those Wayburn bells! they had 
 chimed the hour of worship and the hour of death ; they 
 had tolled when our graves were made— the gra¥es where 
 slept our dead. We never loved them more than in this 
 hour of calm happiness in which we passed down the aisles 
 of the lighted church, in view of the congregation assem- 
 bled to witness the marriage ceremonies of Warren and 
 Stanley. Then they two went forth bound together for 
 time. Who would have thought it would aU have ended 
 
 thus ! 
 
 Hoping much, I promised to go with Stanley to her new 
 home ; we were to leave Wayburn, with its sun-lighted paths ; 
 its melting mists and hills of splendor ; its nights, with their 
 watching stars; the graves that were wearing their sum- 
 mer green, to live again in the world of fashion, whose 
 doors were once more opened to us. There was a way, 
 God's way, in which Cousin Warren had never walked ; by 
 the strength of his love for his wife we must lead him there. 
 There was a merry party assembled in the square house at 
 Ridgely upon the day succeeding the marriage. The cot- 
 tage, with its belongings, was Mr. Kingswell's bridal gift to 
 Leah. She and Frederick were established in their new 
 home ere we took Miss Phoebe to New York to Kve with us. 
 The patient reader who has gone with us through hours 
 of discipline, who has smiled with us when gay, and wept 
 with us when the grave-clods were falling, knows which 
 most to hope or to fear for our future. It aU rests with 
 God. 
 
318 THE MONTANAS. 
 
 • 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 PEACE AND HOPE. 
 
 " Tho' close the tie that bound them, yet hath Heaven 
 A closer tie to the true-hearted given." 
 
 A YEAR has gone by ! A year full of momentous events, 
 which would in themselves constitute a nation's traodc hi«- 
 tory. The armies of the Republic are being disbanded and 
 the soldiers mustered out. Many, during the four years of 
 war, have been mustered anew into the ser\-ice of their 
 God. The red tides have ceased their coursing through 
 our land. Far-rolling over the crimson sea of revolution 
 came the white billows of peace. By the grave-side of our 
 illustrious dead were the hearts in the whole land bowed 
 down and" once more united under the stars of our victori- 
 ous banner. Once more the Sonthem braves came 'to rally 
 round the old standard, whose constellations beam upon the 
 broad fields where sleep the dead — men of the Xorth and 
 the South peacefully together — under the stars of heaven, 
 and the tattered flag waves over them. In the broad 
 noonday of our renewed prosperity, I see the arching 
 bow of promise spanning the heavens. There shall be 
 no more waiting ; no more tears and death ; no more sacri- 
 fices upon the altar of country ; no more souls added to 
 those still fires of patriotism, which flamed so fiercely in 
 those long nights of strife. 
 
 "When postal communication was partially reestablished, 
 there came a letter from Uncle Montana. During the first 
 year of the rebellion, he barely existed in a Southern pri- 
 son ; he was incarcerated for his Union sentiments. Upon 
 the acquisition of New Orleans by the Federal forces, he 
 told his story, and was released and placed in the service 
 
THE MONTANAS. 319 
 
 of the Government. During the three years of hard work, 
 filHng a responsible position, he laid by a sum of money 
 which enabled him to re-purchase Claremont of the authori- 
 ties for a tithe of its original value. It was uncle's desire 
 to take us home ao:ain. The Brio-htland slaves were in 
 the Southern service ; but Aunt Dinah, Hawsey, and many 
 more of our female servants, were anxious that we should 
 become reestablished in the old home once more. We 
 would go South in the autumn ; the money which I in- 
 herited from Clyde I would cheerfully expend in having 
 the old things back as near as possible to what they were. 
 I resolved to spend Iny summers with Stanley ; she and I 
 together would visit Raymond and Ridgely ; then we 
 should all go to Claremont for the winter. I was almost 
 happy in making plans ; of course, we might expect some 
 deviations from our former style of living. For instance, 
 we could never have again what death had taken from us. 
 
 Lane Austin accepted the universal amnesty offered by the 
 President, and came North to see us. My soldier had 
 availed himself of that offered by Christ — the amnesty of 
 Heaven. I was glad to see Lane, until he took my hand 
 confidentially, telling me that he had loved me all his life. 
 I answered earnestly : 
 
 " Lane, there is one other who has loved me thus, who 
 loves me stOl, in that far world, beneath whose stars I stand 
 in this nio-ht of mv sorrowino- for him on the earth. Yes : 
 he loved me, and I him, when 
 
 " ' He went forth 
 His princely way among God's staxs, in slow 
 And silent brightness.' 
 
 "I promised to join him in the glory yonder; I shall 
 
320 THE MONTANAS. 
 
 keep my word. In the far-reaching solitudes of my wi- 
 dowed heart no other idol shall ever come." 
 
 I was right. God had given me, in answer to my life- 
 long prayer, that little hour of love, while the sun went 
 down. I could sit in the shadowy twilight with my mem- 
 ory, in whose powerful echoes, says Lamartine, " there is 
 
 only always ! " waiting for the day-dawn, whose stars 
 
 should sing together the song of triumph over the death 
 which came between us. 
 
 I wore no black for him who wore the white insignia of 
 peace. My love had donned the snowy vestments of im- 
 mortality. I saw the heavenly robes of the redeemed de- 
 scending on the pale sleep through which his life rippled 
 out. Again, at morning, beside a golden river, we should 
 stand together — the bright-flowing river of everlasting life ! 
 
 Oh, my Kve! though from the silence of thy death 
 there comes no sound, yet solemnly I feel how 
 
 " Immortality o'er sweeps 
 All pains, all tears, all time, all fears, and peals 
 Like the eternal thunders of the deep. 
 Unto my ears this truth : Uwu liv'stfor ever I " 
 
 THE END. 
 
^d- 
 
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RARE BOOK 
 COLLECTION 
 
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 UNIVERSITY OF 
 
 NORTH CAROLINA 
 
 AT 
 
 CHAPEL HILL 
 
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 528