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 I;
 
 ALONE, 
 
 BY MARION HARLAND, 
 
 OF RICHMOND, VIRGINIA. 
 
 "Through long, long years, to seek, to strive, to ye 
 For human love, and never quench that thirst ; 
 To pour the soul out winning no return 
 O'er fragile idols, by delusions nursed, 
 On things that fail us, reed by reed, to lean, 
 To mourn the changed, the far-away, the dead, 
 To send our troubled spirits through the unseen 
 Intensely questioning for treasures fled." 
 
 NINETEENTH THOUSAND. 
 
 .JEW YORK : . 
 J. C. DERBY,, 119 NASSAU STREET. 
 
 BOSTON: PHILLIPS, SAMPSON & CO. 
 INCINXATI : H. W. DERBY". 
 
 1856.
 
 ESTKRKD Recording lo Act of Congreu, in the year 1854, by 
 
 A. MORRIS, 
 b the Clerk's Office of the Di.trict Court of the United Stat*., for the Extern Ditrict of Virginia.
 
 DEDICATION. 
 
 ratf 
 
 IT ia meet that those whose sympathy has been dew and sunshine to the 
 nursery plant, should watch over its transplantation into the public garden. 
 And as this Dedication is the only portion of the book which is new to you, 
 you do not require that it should remind you of the welcome stormy evenings, 
 when I laid down my pen, to read to you the chapters written since our last 
 "select party ;" how the fictitious names of my real characters were house- 
 hold words to our trio : and your flattering interest grateful because sincere 
 stimulated my flagging spirits in the performance of my task. You know, 
 too, what many may not believe with what misgivings it was entered upon, 
 and prosecuted ; what fears of the licensed critic's ban, and the ?ilicensed 
 public's sneer j above all, you comprehend the motive that held me to the 
 work an earnest desire to contribute my mite for the promotion of the 
 happiness and usefulness of my kind. Coming as it does from my heart penned 
 under the shadow of our home-altar, I cannot but feel that the mission of my 
 offering is to the hearts of others, ask for it no higher place than the fireside 
 circle. Readers and judges like yourselves, I may not, do not hope to findj 
 but I trust there are those who will pardon the lack of artistic skill in the 
 plot, or the deficiency of stirring incident, in consideration of the fact, that 
 my story is what it purports to be, a simple tale of life common joy and 
 sorrow, whose merits, if it has any, consist in its truthfulness to Nature, 
 and the fervent spirit which animated its narration. 
 
 MARION HARLAND. 
 
 Richmond, l 
 
 631083
 
 ALONE. 
 
 CHAPTER L 
 
 THE Sermon was over ; the funeral psalm chanted brokenly, 
 by reason of quick-drawn sobs, and bursts of tender remem- 
 brance; the heart's tribute to the memory of the departed. 
 " The services will be concluded at the grave," pronounced the 
 clergyman in an unwilling voice ; and a shuddering awe fell, 
 as it ever does, upon all. " The Grave !" Even in the presence 
 of the sheeted dead, listening to the rehearsal of excellences 
 lost to earth, set as living stars in a firmament of unchanging 
 splendor ; we cannot comprehend the dread reality of bereave- 
 ment. Earth smiles the same ; familiar faces surround us ; 
 and if the absence of one is painfully noted, the soul would 
 fain delude itself with the belief 'that his departure is not 
 forever; " he is not dead, but sleepeth.'* But the Grave 1" 
 These two words convey an irrevocable sentence. We feel for 
 the first time the extent of the 'gulf that separates us from the 
 clay, beloved, although inanimate ; the dissevering of every 
 bond of companionship. For us the earth has, as before, its 
 griefs, its joys and 'its duties ; for the dear one but a grave ! 
 The story of "a life is ended there. The bearers advanced and 
 'took up the. coffin. They were no hired officials, performing 
 their work with ill-concealed indifference, or faces robed in 
 borrowed lugubriousness ; but old family servants, who had 
 sported with the deceased in infancy ; faithfully served her in 
 later years, and had now solicited and obtained this mournful 
 privilege. Tears coursed down their dusky cheeks as they 
 lifted their burden and bore it forth from the portal which 
 seemed to grow darker, as she, the light of the dwelling, quitted 
 it, to return no more. They wound through the flowery labyrinth 
 whose mazes were her care and delight. The dews of evening 
 1* (5)
 
 6 ALONE. 
 
 were beginning to descend upon the thirsting petals, and in the 
 breezeless air hung, in an almost visible cloud, the grateful 
 return of spicy and languishing odors. A tall rose tree drooped 
 over the path, and as the bearers brushed by its stem, a shower, 
 like perfumed snow-flakes, lay . upon the pall. The end of the 
 journey was- reached j a secluded and beautiful spot in the lower 
 part of the garden, where were many mounds clustered together 
 graves of a household. A weeping willow, years before, a 
 little shoot, planted by the hand of the wife to mark her 
 husband's resting-place, now grown into a stately tree, swept its 
 feathery pendants above her pillow. The cords were lashed 
 around the coffin, and the word given to lower it into the pit ; 
 when with a shriek that chilled the blood of the bystanders 
 a slight figure darted forward, and clasped it in her arms. 
 " Mother ! oh mother ! come back !" Men of iron nerve bowed 
 in childlike weakness, and wept, as this desolate cry rent the air. 
 She spoke not another word, but lay, her cheek to the . cold 
 wood, enclosing the colder form, and her fingers interlocked in a 
 vice-like grasp. " Ida ! my child I" said the old minister, 
 bending to raise her ; " She is not here. She is with her God. 
 Can you wish her. again upon this sinful earth 1" His consola- 
 tion was addressed to an ear as dull as that of the corpse. In 
 that outburst of frenzied supplication, consciousness had left her. 
 " It is best so I" said the venerable man. " She could not have 
 borne it else.' 
 
 The ceremony was concluded " dust to dust ashes to 
 ashes " and the crowd turned sorrowfully away. It was not 
 in pity for the orphan alone. There were none there who could 
 not recount some deed of love or charity done by her, whom 
 they had given to the earth. Since the deaths of a fondly loved 
 partner and three sweet children, Mrs. Ross had sought balm 
 for her wounds, by binding up those of others. Environed by 
 neighbours, whose position and means were more humble than 
 her own, she had ample exercise for her active benevolence ; 
 benevolence evincing itself, not in studied graciousness and 
 lavish almsgiving, but in kindly sympathy, and those name- 
 less offices of friendship, so easily rendered, so dear to the reci- 
 pient. Her children shall rise up and call her blessed," was 
 the text of her funeral discourse, and the pastor but uttered the
 
 ALONE. 7 
 
 feelings of his auditory, when he called the community in which 
 her blameless life had been passed, her family loving her, and 
 through her, united together in bonds of fraternal affection. In 
 this genial clime, had Ida Koss been nurtured ; beloved for her 
 mother's sake, as for the warm impulses of her generous nature ; 
 petted and indulged; yet obeying the least expression of her 
 parent's wishes, not in -slavish fear, but^a devotion amounting to 
 worship. She had no companions of her own age who were her 
 equals in education or refinement, and from intimate connection 
 with vulgarity she shrank instinctively. Her pride was not 
 offensively displayed. No one could live in the sphere of which 
 Mrs. Koss was the ruling power and feel aught like supercilious- 
 ness or contempt of inferiors. From infancy, Ida was her mo- 
 ther's companion; at an early age her confidante'and co-adviser; 
 had read her pure heart as a richly illuminated missal, from 
 which self-examination and severe criticism had expunged what- 
 ever could sully or. disfigure. Can we marvel that she shrined 
 her in her heart of hearts as ateing moro than human scarcely 
 less than divine ? 
 
 That mysterious Providence who guides the fowler's messen- 
 ger of death to the breast of the parent bird, leaving the callow 
 nestling to perish with hunger, recalled the mother's spirit ere 
 her labor of love was completed. Ida was an orphan in her fif- 
 teenth year ; the age of all others when a mother's counsels are 
 needed; when the child stands tremblingly upon the thres- 
 hold of girlhood, and looks with wondering, wistful eyes into the 
 rosy vista opened to her sight. Babes in knowledge, nine girls 
 out of ten are grown in heart at fifteen. A stroke, whether of 
 extraordinary joy or sorrow, will oftentimes demolish the gew- 
 gaws of the child, and reveal instead, the patient endurance, the 
 steady faith, the all-absorbing love of a woman. A week had 
 passed a week devoted by the bereaved to thoughts of, and 
 weepings for the lost, by others to preparations for her residence 
 among strangers. Years might elapse before her return. That 
 night, as stealthily as though seeking a forbidden spot, she trod 
 the path to her mother's grave. It was clear starlight, and she 
 Bat down beside the newly sodded mound, and rested her brow 
 upon it. Cold cold and hard ! but it entombed her mother ; 
 aye ! and her heart ! for what had she to love now ? There was
 
 8 ALONE. 
 
 no loving breast to receive that aching head ; no solace for the 
 wounded spirit. The dew-gems lay freshly upon the grass ; 
 for her the dewiness of life was gone ; earth was one vast sepul- 
 chre. She looked up to the stars. In the summer evenings her 
 mother's chair used to stand in the piazza, and she sat at her 
 feet, her eyes fixed alternately upon her angelic face, and the 
 shining orbs above them. Mrs. Ross loved to think of them as 
 the abodes of the blest ; the ^mansions prepared for those who 
 had sojourned in this sin -stained world and yet worn their white 
 robes unblemished; and the theory was confidently adopted by 
 the imaginative child. She drank in descriptions of the glories 
 of those celestial regions until her straining eyes seemed to catch 
 a glimpse of a seraph's glittering robe, and she leaned breath- 
 lessly forward to hear the music of his golden harp. But to- 
 night the sparkling smiles of those effulgent ones, " forever sing- 
 ing as they shine," were changed to pitying regards as they 
 beheld her so sad and lonely; the gleam of the seraph's wings 
 was dimmed j his far-off melody plaintive and low, and the bur- 
 den of his song was " alone." The wind waved the willow- 
 boughs, and a whispering ran through the leaves " Alone 
 alone !" The words were so audibly breathed that the girl 
 started in her delirious sorrow, and gazed wildly around. " Oh 
 mother ! cannot you leave Heaven for one short minute to com- 
 fort your child? "Who will love her now? Alone, all alone 1 
 mother ! dear mother 1"
 
 ALONE. 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 Two persons sat in the parlor of a handsome house situated 
 in a pleasant street of the capital of our Old Dominion. The 
 afternoon of a summer's day was deepening into twilight, but the 
 waning light sufficed to show the features of the occupants. 
 There was no hazard in pronouncing them father and daughter. 
 The square forehead, indicative rather of keenness of perception 
 and shrewd sense, than high intellectual faculties ; the full, grey 
 eye ; flexible lips, and heavily moulded chin were the same in 
 both, although softened in the younger, until her face might 
 have been deemed pretty, had the observer omitted to remark an 
 occasional steel-like spark, struck from the clear eyes, and a com- 
 pression of the mouth, betokening a sleeping demon whom it 
 would be dangerous to arouse from his lair. A turbulent light 
 flashed there now. She had thrown herself into the corner of a 
 sofa, after many restless wanderings through the apartment, and the 
 shapely foot, oscillating rapidly, beat with its toe, a tattoo agitato 
 upon the floor. Her father was immersed in thought or apathy. 
 She repeated a question in a voice which savored of peevishness, 
 before he withdrew his eyes from the watch-key, the twirling of 
 which had been his occupation for a quarter of an hour. "At 
 what hour will your ward arrive, sir ?" 
 
 " She must be here in a short time. They have travelled 
 slowly. The journey might have been accomplished as well in 
 one day, as two." 
 
 " You said her escort was a clergyman, I think. Gentlemen 
 of the cloth are not famous for inconveniencing themselves to 
 gratify others," responded the young lady. " They inveigh 
 against the emptiness and vanity of dublunary things ; yet I 
 know no class of men who enjoy 'creature comforts' more." 
 
 " Confounded humbugs !" was the rejoinder, and a muttered 
 something about " priest-craft " and " blind leaders of the blind " 
 finished the sentence so charitably begun. 
 
 Another pause was ended by the daughter. "Miss Ross'
 
 10 ALONE. 
 
 father was an early friend of yours, a college chum, was he 
 not ?" 
 
 " He was, and a clever fellow into the bargain ;" said her 
 father, with a touch of feeling in his tone. " At his death, he 
 left to me the management of his child's property, (a snug 
 operation I have made of it, too !) In the event of the mother's 
 decease, I was appointed sole guardian, an office for which, it 
 must be said, I have little partiality. If Mrs. Ross had given 
 her up to me ten years ago, I might have made something of her; 
 but she said a mother was the proper guide for her daughter. 
 Women are wonderfully self-sufficient, always undertaking what 
 it would puzzle sensible men to do, and perfectly satisfied with 
 the style in which it is done." If there was any meaning in the 
 severity of this remark, the face and voice of the listener 
 betrayed no consciousness. 
 
 "How old is Miss Ross?" 
 
 "What is your age?" and seeing her hesitate "What does 
 the Family Bible say ? I want no school-girl airs." 
 
 " I am fifteen sir," raising her eyes coolly to his. 
 
 " And she is two months younger. A pretty time I sh ill 
 have for six years ; unless she takes it into her head to marry 
 before she is of age. Very probably she will ; for her fortune, 
 although small, is large enough to attract some fool, too lazy to 
 work, and too ambitious to remain poor." 
 
 "Is she pretty?" 
 
 " How should I know ? I only saw her at her mother's 
 funeral, where she got up quite a scene fainting and such like. 
 I came away the next day, and she was still too unwell to leave 
 her room, they said." 
 
 " Romantically inclined ! Pity she should be doomed to 
 uncongenial associations I" 
 
 " You would indeed have profited little by my instructions if 
 your mind were infected by these whimsies," said her parent, 
 with a self-gratulatory air. " I pride myself upon your 
 superiority to the generality of your sex, at least, in this re- 
 spect" 
 
 " There is a carriage at the door," interrupted the other, in an 
 unvarying tone, and without changing her posture. The host 
 met, in the entry, an elderly gentleman and a young girl, whom
 
 ALONE. 11 
 
 he saluted as "Mr. Hall" and "Miss Boss," introducing them 
 to "Miss Read, my daughter." Ida glanced timidly into the 
 face of her guardian, and then hastily scanned that of his daugh- 
 ter. That the scrutiny was unsatisfactory, was to be read in the 
 deeper sadness that fell over her countenance, while the sinking 
 lashes, and trembling lip showedhow sharp was the disappoint- 
 ment. Youthful and inexperienced as she was, her heart told her 
 that the bruised tendrils which had been torn from their original 
 support could never learn to twine around these gelid statues. 
 
 " You will remain to tea, Mr. Hall," said Mr. Read, as the 
 good clergyman arose. 
 
 " I thank you, sir ; but our journey has been fatiguing owing 
 to the extreme heat. I find myself in need of rest, and my 
 charge here requires it more than I do." 
 
 " You will call before you leave the city. May we not hope 
 for the pleasure of your company to dinner to-morrow ?" 
 
 The invitation was accepted ; and after a silent pressure of 
 the hand from Ida, and a courtly bow from father and daughter, 
 Mr. Hall took his leave. 
 
 " Miss Ross would perhaps like to make some alteration in 
 her dress, Josephine," Mr. Read said; his manner testifying 
 how necessary he esteemed the proposed measure. Miss Read 
 rang for a light, and signified to Ida that she was ro-vly to show 
 her up stairs. Any change from the bleak fornuuiiy of their 
 presence was a relief; and she longed to be alone, if but for half 
 an hour, that she might give way to the emotions which had 
 been rising and beating, through the livelong day, choking and 
 blinding her. But Miss Read summoned a servant, whom she 
 ordered to wait upon Miss Ross, now and in future ; and seated 
 herself in a rocking-chair to watch the progress of the toilette. 
 Mechanically Ida went through the torture of dressing. There 
 are times when it is such ; when the manifold details, hereto- 
 fore so engaging, are to the -preoccupied and suffering mind, 
 like the thorn of the prickly-pear, too small to be observed, but 
 pricking burningly in every fibre and pore. It was a woman 
 a sister a girl as young as herself perhaps as tender-hearted, 
 who sat there. Why not, with the unrepressed sorrowfulness 
 of a child, bury her face in her lap, and sob, " I have lost my 
 mother!" to be fondled and comforted into composure? It
 
 12 ALONE. 
 
 would be sacrilege to ruffle the elegant propriety of her figure ; 
 and the glassy eyes said, by their tearless stare, "Between 
 you and me there is a great gulf fixed!" One weakness Ida 
 could not overcome ; the repugnance to beholding herself in her 
 mourning garments. They as yet reminded her too vividly of 
 the bier and the pall. She averted her eyes, as she stood before 
 the mirror, to put the finishing stroke to her apparel. " I beg 
 your pardon," said the calm voice of Josephine. " Your collar 
 is all awry. Permit me" Ida submitted in silence, while 
 her volunteer assistant unpinned, and re-arranged the crape 
 folds, but as she gathered them under the mourning brooch, 
 a tear, large and pellucid, dropped upon her hand. It was but 
 a drop of salt water to Miss Read, and she wiped it off, as she 
 asked her guest " to walk down to tea." To the new-comer, the 
 palatable food was as the apples of Sodom bitter ashes. She 
 could not swallow or speak. Her companions ate and chatted 
 with great gusto. The ill-humour of an hour since had passed 
 away. This exemplary daughter was her father's idol, when 
 contrasted with other, and less favored girls. She was formed 
 in his image, and when the plastic mind was wax to receive, and 
 adamant to retain impressions, he moulded it after a pattern of 
 his own. He taught her deceit, under the name of self-control; 
 heartlessness, he called prudence; veiled distrust and misan- 
 thropy under clear-sightedness and knowledge of human nature. 
 All those holy and beautiful feelings which evidence to man his 
 kindred to his Divine model and Creator, he tossed aside, with 
 the sweeping condemnation " romance and nonsense I" The 
 crying sin was to be "womanish;" "woman" and "fool" were 
 synonymes, used indiscriminately to express the superlative of 
 ire-exciting folly. He delighted in showing things as they 
 were. Men were machines, moved by secret springs of policy 
 and knavery; the world a stage, viewed by others in the decep- 
 tive glare of artificial lights, and so made attractive. He had 
 penetrated into the mysteries behind the curtain, and examined, 
 in the unflattering day, the clumsy contrivances, gaudy daubing 
 and disgustful hollowness of the whole. Fancy and the pleasures 
 of imagination were empty, bombastic names; he would have 
 seen in Niagara only a sizeable fall, and " calculated," amidst 
 the rushing shout of its mighty waters, as to the number of
 
 ALONE. 13 
 
 cotton-mills it would turn, and the thousands it would net him, 
 could he transport it, patent right secured, to Virginia. He tore 
 the cloud-covering from the storm-god's brow, and beheld a roar- 
 ing, vaporing giant, whose insane attacks might be warded off 
 by philosophical precautions, and discretion in the disposition of 
 lightning rods. 
 
 The party returned to the parlor. "You play, I presume, 
 Miss Ross?" said her guardian. Inexpressibly hurt by this 
 new proof of insensibility to her situation, Ida faltered an 
 excuse of fatigue and want of practice ; and with a very per- 
 ceptible shrug, he addressed his daughter. " What apology 
 have you, Josephine ?" She replied by going to the instrument, 
 but had just taken her seat, when the door opened to admit 
 three visitors two school-fellows of Miss Head's, and their 
 brother. " The Misses and Mr. Talbot" were presented in due 
 form to the stranger, who had risen to leave the room. Jose- 
 phine saw the movement, and arrested it by the introduction. 
 No attention was paid to her; and in the midst of the lively 
 conversation, she seized an opportunity to speak aside to Jose- 
 phine. " I wish to retire, if you please." Josephine started. 
 If not so measured, the tone was as haughty as hers, at. its 
 proudest pitch. With a word of apology to her guests, she led 
 the way into the hall, and lighted a lamp. Ida took it from 
 her. I will go up without you. Good night." She walked 
 up the staircase with a steady step, for she was. .followed by a 
 gaze of wonderment and anger; but when her chamber was 
 gained, she sprang through the door locked and double locked 
 it, and dashed herself upon the floor. A hurricane raged within 
 her grief, outraged feeling and desperation. The grave had 
 gorged her past, black walls of ice bounded the future. Mean- 
 while the sound of jocund voices came up through the flooring; 
 bursts of laughter ; and then music ; brilliant waltzes and tri- 
 umphant marches, to where the orphan lay sobbing, not weeping, 
 with hysterical violence ; her hands clenched upon her temples, 
 through which each convulsion sent a pang that forced from her 
 a moan of anguish. 
 
 " She is a weak, foolish baby ! it will take an immensity of 
 schooling to make her endurable ;" said Mr. Head, when the 
 ic. 
 
 2
 
 14 ALONE. 
 
 " She has temper enough, in all conscience I" rejoined Jose- 
 phine, and she related the scene preceding her withdrawal. 
 
 "Bad! bad!" ejaculated the senior, with a solemn shake of 
 the head. I admire spirit in a girl ; but a woman should have 
 no temper I" 
 
 CHAPTEK III. 
 
 IN a crowded school-room, on a glorious October morning, a 
 student was penning, with slow and heavy fingers, an Italian 
 exercise. A physiognomist's eye would have wandered with 
 comparative carelessness over the faces, so various in feature 
 and character by which she was surrounded, and found m 
 hers, subject for curious speculation; wondering at the contra- 
 dictory evidence her countenance and form gave of her age ; the 
 one, sombre in its thoughtfulness, its dark eyes piercing through 
 his, into his soul, said twenty perhaps thirty the lithe figure 
 and rounded limbs, sixteen ; but most, he would have marvelled 
 at the listlessness of her attitude ; the lack of interest in her 
 occupation and external objects, when every line, in brow, eyes 
 and mouth, bespoke energy; a spirit strong to do or dare; and 
 which, when in arms, would achieve its purpose, or perish in the 
 attempt. The hand moved more and more, sluggishly, and the 
 page was marred by blots and erasures., Thought had the 
 crayon, and dark were the shades that fell upon the canvass. 
 " Seventeen to-day ! "Who remembers that it is my birth-day ? 
 There are none here to know or care. If I were to die to-mor- 
 row, there is not a creature who would shed a tear above my 
 corpse. I wish I could die ! They say such thoughts are 
 sinful, but annihilation is preferable to an aimless, loveless 
 existence. Oh ! this intolerable aching, yearning for affection 
 it is eating into my soul ! gnawing, insatiable longing ! can 
 I not quiet you for an instant ? I have intellect genius so 
 says the world. I have sacrificed to knowledge, reason and 
 poesy; praying, first, for happiness, then comfort, then forget.
 
 ALONE. 15 
 
 fulness to oast myself down, the same heart-sick, famished 
 creature ! Our examination was an imposing affair. The elite 
 of intelligence and fashion honored us with their presence. The 
 prizes for which others had expended sleepless nights and toil- 
 some days, were for me, who had scarcely put forth an effort ; 
 and as the music swelled out to celebrate my victory blent 
 with the applause of my critics, my heart beat ! I had not felt 
 it before for a long, long time, and as. in a lightning flash, I 
 saw what I might what I would have been, had the sunshine 
 of love been continued to me. But the pitchy cloud rolled over 
 the dazzling opening, and I was again a stranded wreck upon a 
 barren shingle the wailing monotone of the deep in my ear. I 
 read to them, that a tile was once cast upon an acanthus root, 
 and the hardy plant thrust its arms in every direction, until 
 they felt the light, then coiled in spiral waves, to convert their 
 oppressor into a thing of beauty; and bade them recognize in 
 the Corinthian capital, an emblem of Truth, which had in all 
 ages owed much of its transcendent loveliness to the tyranny 
 that sought to stifle its growth ; and when I pointed to it as a 
 type of our national freedom, I was forced to stop, for snowy 
 handkerchiefs perfumed the air, and eager hands beat a rap- 
 turous ' encore ;' and I was reading a written lie ! for my 
 heart was dying puny and faded beneath its weight. Intel- 
 lect ! a woman's intellect ! I had rather be little Fanny Porter, 
 with her silly, sweet face, and always imperfect lessons, than 
 what I am. She has a father, mother, brothers, sisters, who 
 dote upon her. Nourished upon fondness, she asks love of all, 
 and never in vain. If I could dream my life away, I should be 
 content. I love to lock my door upon the real world, and unbar 
 the portals of my fairy palace my thought-realm. Those long 
 delicious reveries which melt so sweetly into my night-visions 
 and the blessed rainy days spent by Josephine in worsted work ! 
 Yet all this is injurious I am enervating my mind destroying 
 every faoulty of usefulness. To whom can I be useful ! ' Do 
 your duty in your home' said the sermon last Sabbath. I 
 have no home no friends I am cut off from my species. 
 Tired of the world at seventeen ! weary of a life I may not 
 end ! Seventeen ! seventeen ! would it were seventy or seven I
 
 16 ALONE. 
 
 I should be nearer my journey's end or once more a happy 
 child, nestling in my mother's bosom 1" 
 
 " Forgive me/' said a gentle voice, " but your exercise is not 
 finished, and it is near Signer Alboni's hour." The speaker 
 was the owner of the adjoining desk. As their eyes met, hers 
 beamed with sympathy and interest. Ida knew nothing of the 
 wretchedness expressed in her features, but she felt the agony 
 at heart, and taken unawares, she could not entirely repress 
 the tide that sprang to her lids at this unexpected kindness. 
 Ashamed of what she had been " schooled" to consider a weak- 
 ness, she lowered her head over her writing, until the long 
 curls hid her face. " Signer Alboni, young ladies !" called out 
 Mr. Purcell, the principal of the seminary. Ida surveyed the 
 unsightly sheet in dismay, but . there was no time for alteration, 
 and she repaired with the rest to the recitation-room. 
 
 Signor Alboni was a gaunt, bilious-looking Italian, whom a 
 residence of ten years in America had robbed of all national cha- 
 racteristics, except a fiery temper. The girls feared and disliked 
 him; but he was a popular and efficient teacher, and in virtue 
 of these considerations, Mr. Purcell was inclined to overlook 
 minor disadvantages. Ellen Morris, whose fun-making propen- 
 sities no rules or presence could restrain, soon set in circulation 
 a whispered report, that their "amiable professor had had a 
 severe return of dyspeptic symptoms since their last lesson;" 
 and " don't you think he has a queer taste ? They say his favor- 
 ite drink is a decoction of saffron, spiced with copperas! No 
 wonder he looks so like a piece of new nankeen." Then an 
 impromptu conundrum, pencilled upon a fly-leaf, went the rounds 
 of the class. " If a skeleton were asked to describe his sensa- 
 tions in one word, whose name would he pronounce ?" Black, 
 brown and sunny tresses were shaken, and smiling mouths 
 motioned, " We give it up." Ellen scribbled the answer, 
 All-bone-I." 
 
 It is a singular fact, that when one person is the unconscious 
 cause of amusement to others although ignorant of their ridi- 
 cule, he often experiences an odd feeling of displeasure with 
 himself and the whole world, a sudden fit of spleen, venting 
 itself upon those who richly deserve the wrath, which in his sane 
 moments, he acknowledges was unprovoked. It was impossible
 
 ALONE. 17 
 
 for the signer to observe the laughing faces that sought refuge 
 behind open books and friendly shoulders, for he was occupied in 
 the examination of the pile of manuscripts laid upon his desk, 
 yet his brow was more and more wrinkled each second, and 
 when he spoke, his tone was, as Ellen afterwards described 
 " as musical as that of a papa lion, administering a parental 
 rebuke to his refractory offspring." 
 
 "Miss Porter!" 
 
 Poor Fanny's eyes started from their sockets, as she uttered a 
 feeble response. 
 
 " Receive your exercise," tearing it in half, and giving her the 
 fragments. " Remain after school-hours, and re-write it j also 
 prepare the next one in addition to your lesson for to-morrow. 
 Miss Morris, where do you purchase your ink?" 
 
 " Of Messrs. Politeness, Manners & Co.," she retorted, with 
 an innocent smile. "You never deal there, I believe, sir?" 
 
 "Silence!" vociferated the infuriated foreigner. "Rest as- 
 sured, Miss, I shall report your impertinence to Mr. Purcell. 
 Miss Carleton!" and Jda's neighbour replied. "I find no im- 
 portant errors in your theme, but your chirography lacks dignity 
 and regularity." 
 
 With a respectful courtesy, the paper and hint were received ; 
 and if a smile played around her mouth, as she contrasted her 
 delicate characters with the stiff, upright hand, in which the 
 corrections were made, he did not see it. 
 
 " You had some incontestable reason for omitting to write, 
 Miss Ross," with a sardonic grin; " into its nature I shall not 
 inquire, but plead guilty to curiosity to know the name of the 
 friend who did your work, and appended your name to his or 
 her elegant effort." 
 
 Ida was not of a disposition to brook insolence, and she an- 
 swered with spirit, " The exercise is mine, sir." 
 
 " By right -of possession, I suppose ?" 
 
 " It was written by myself." 
 
 " Do I believe you, when my eyes tell me this is neither your 
 hand-writing or style ? Who was your accomplice in this witty 
 deception ?" 
 
 " SIR !" 
 
 2*
 
 18 ALONE. 
 
 " Who wrote this theme ?" he thundered, maddened by her 
 contempt. 
 
 I have told you / did. No one else has seen it." 
 
 You lie!" 
 
 With one lightning glance, she arose ; but he placed himself 
 between her and the door. 
 
 11 Let me pass !" she ordered. 
 
 " Signer Alboni !" said Miss Carleton, who had before endea- 
 vored to make herself heard, "I can certify to the truth of 
 Miss Koss' statement. I saw her commence and complete her 
 manuscript." 
 
 "Aha ! yet she says it has been seen only by herself. You 
 must tutor your witnesses more carefully. They convict, instead 
 of exculpate." 
 
 " If you hint at collusion between Miss Koss and myself, I 
 can say that we never exchanged a word until an hour since. 
 My desk adjoins hers ; it was this circumstance which furnished 
 me with the knowledge of her morning's occupation." 
 
 "I beg you will not subject yourself to further insult, upon 
 my account," interrupted Ida, whose figure had dilated and 
 heightened during the colloquy; then to him Once more I 
 command you to stand aside ! If you do not obey, I shall call 
 Mr. Purcell." As if he had heard the threatened appeal, the 
 principal appeared in the doorway, in blank astonishment at the 
 novel aspect of affairs. Alboni commenced a hurried jargon, 
 inarticulate through haste and rage; Ida stood with folded arms, 
 her countenance settled in such proud scorn as Lucifer wouIU have 
 envied and striven to imitate. The prudent preceptor perceived 
 at a glance the danger of present investigation ; and abruptly 
 declaring the lesson concluded, appointed an hour on the morrow 
 for a hearing of the case. That evening, for. the first time in 
 many months, Ida voluntarily sought her guardian's presence. 
 Josephine was in her room, and he was left to the enjoyment of 
 solitude and the newspaper. He arose at the approach of his 
 visitant, and offered her a chair. In. these little matters of 
 etiquette, he was particular to punctiliousness; carrying his 
 business habits of law and order into every thing. The paper 
 was replaced upon the stand ; the spectacles wiped and returned
 
 ALONE. 19 
 
 to their case ; and those matter-of-fact eyes raised \vith an inter- 
 rogative look. 
 
 " You have been informed of the altercation that occurred in 
 the Italian class to-day?" Ida said, waiving the preliminary 
 remarks. 
 
 " Josephine mentioned it." 
 
 " May I ask what was her version of it ?" 
 
 " It was a statement of facts." 
 
 " Doubtless. Then, sir, you are aware that I have been wan- 
 tonly and grossly insulted by a man for whom I have no respect; 
 that in the presence of the entire class, I was forced to listen to 
 language, which, uttered by one man to another, would be met 
 by prompt chastisement; you are furthermore advised of the 
 fact that he, whose duty it is to protect those whom he instructs, 
 instead of compelling the creature to apologize upon his knees, 
 < postponed inquiry until to-morrow.' " 
 
 "And very properly, too." 
 
 " Unquestionably, sir I" with the sarcastic smile which accom- 
 panied her former assent. My object in seeking this interview, 
 is to request your attendance upon that occasion. I shall not 
 be present." 
 
 And why not ?" 
 
 " Because, sir, I will not be confronted with that odious rep- 
 tile, and give my testimony in his hearing. Judging from the 
 past, an d the knowledge of mankind I have acquired under your 
 tuition, nothing that I can say will avail to secure me justice. 
 Mr. Purcell cannot obtain a better teacher, and it is as politic in 
 Alboni to remain. There will be an amicable settlement ; and 
 my word will be a knot in the chain of satisfactory evidence 
 they will elicit. The young ladies will, of course, side with ' the 
 gentlemen.' " 
 
 "But why am I to be there? to receive Alboni's apology?" 
 
 " I want none, sir I will hear none. I have been called a 
 liar! his pitiful life could not expiate the offence !" 
 
 " You are savage, young lady ! you wish, perhaps, that I 
 should pistol him." 
 
 " I thank you, sir, for recalling by your ridicule, the remem- 
 brance that this is a business interview. "What I ask is this :
 
 20 ALONE. 
 
 that you announce to Signer Alboni the termination of my studies 
 with him, and pay his bill." 
 
 " Do you know, that although it is only the second week of 
 the session, you will be charged for the term ?" 
 
 " I do, sir." 
 
 "What if I refuse to discharge the debt?" 
 
 " I shall liquidate it with the money intended for my personal 
 expenses." 
 
 And if I forbid this, and command you to continue your 
 lessons?' 
 
 I shall refuse obedience to a demand you have not the right 
 to make." 
 
 " Miss Ross ! do you know to whom you are speaking ?" 
 
 I address Mr. Read." 
 
 " And your guardian, young lady !" 
 
 " The guardian of my property, sir." 
 
 " You are under no obligations to me, I suppose !" 
 
 " None that I am conscious of. You are paid for your ser- 
 vices and my board." 
 
 " There are cares for which money can ofier no adequate com- 
 pensation." 
 
 Indeed, sir ! I thought gold a cure for every ill ; a reward 
 for every toil. But we are digressing. You will do as I wish ?" 
 
 " Resume your seat, if you please ! The hope that I might 
 have regarded your request favorably, is lessened by your unbe- 
 coming deportment. You are ignorant of any benefits I have 
 conferred upon you ! Since you will have a debit and credit 
 account, I will enlighten you on this point. You came into this 
 house two years ago a romantic, sentimental, mawkish, spoiled 
 child ; weeping at every word which happened to jar upon your 
 exquisite sensibilities ; an unsophisticated simpleton ; a fit prey 
 for any bungler in deception ; unformed in manner ; womanish 
 in feeling, and extravagant in expression. You have now, 
 although but seventeen years of age, more sense and self-pos- 
 session than most women of double your years; control the 
 weaknesses which rendered you so ridiculous ; are accomplished 
 and respected ; in short, I say it without flattery to myself, or to 
 you, bid fair to fill your position in society creditably. You 
 have still obstacles to surmount; but I have judged your failings
 
 ALONE. 21 
 
 leniently, attributing them, mainly, to the defects in your early 
 training. If your mother had had the wisdom and discretion" 
 " Stop, sir, stop !" exclaimed the girl, rising from her chair, 
 and trembling in every limb with excitement. "Take not the 
 name of my holy mother upon your lips still less cast the 
 shadow of reproach upon her conduct ! You have taught me 
 the corruption of human nature, have crushed all the warm 
 affections I had been instructed to cherish ; have made the life 
 my young mind pictured so inviting, a desert waste, inhabited 
 by wily monsters ; but over the wreck there shines one ray, 
 the memory of an angel lent to earth! Fpr her sake I live 
 among those whose form she wore, but with whose foul hearts 
 hers could have had no fellowship. You tell me she was like 
 the rest, that the religion, in her so lovely, is a delusion and 
 I answer, I do not believe you. In her name I refute your 
 vile sophisms ! Heaven knows how little I have profited by 
 her counsels and example. I loathe myself! 'A woman,' you 
 said ! rather a fiend ! for such is woman when she buries her 
 heart, nor mourns above its grave. ' Control my feelings !' I 
 do ! I have driven back the tears until the scalding waves have 
 killed whatever in my soul could boast a heavenly birth. There 
 is nothing there to prove my relationship to my mother, but her 
 memory. When that is destroyed I shall go mad. I am on 
 the verge of insanity now I often am ! I do not doubt your 
 assertions as to your, and shame on me that I should say it, my 
 brethren; for in yourself I see all the traits you ascribe to them. 
 "Woman, you say, belongs to an order of yet inferior beings; and 
 in your daughter I have an illustration of this ; for she inherits 
 her father's character, combined with a meaner mind. You con- 
 sider that I owe you respect, I do not ! I am superior to you 
 both, for I still struggle with the emotions our Creator kindled 
 up within us, and sent us to earth to extinguish. "Within your 
 bosoms there are only cold ashes. Frown as you please ! your 
 anger intimidates as little as your ridicule abashes. The idea 
 once entered my mind that I could win you and your child to 
 love me. I could laugh at the thought ; that was in my senti- 
 mental days, when I deemed that the desolate orphan must find 
 affection somewhere. My most ' extravagant' imaginings never 
 paint such a possibility now. I have done. We understand
 
 22 ALONE. 
 
 each other. The contempt you had for the < mawkish' baby, 
 cannot equal mine for you. You will say no more of obligation 
 and respect. I despise you, and I owe you nothing ?" 
 
 " Is the girl mad in good earnest ?" gasped the cause of this 
 burning torrent, as the door closed upon her. She's a dan- 
 gerous customer when her blood is up a perfect Vesuvius, and 
 I came near being Herculaneum or Pompeii. I've seen Ross in 
 these tantrums, when we were chums together. She looked 
 like her father when she said she was my superior. Bah I" He 
 picked up his "Enquirer," but the political news was stale 
 and vapid : the " Whig" was tried with no better success. In 
 the centre of the racy editorial, and oddly mixed with the adver- 
 tisements, was that incarnation of pride and passion, which 
 through her eyes, more plainly than her lips, said, " I despise 
 you, and I owe you nothing." Thus stood her part of the 
 account he had proposed to examine. 
 
 CHAPTEE IV. 
 
 Miss CARLETON acknowledged the appearance of her desk- 
 mate on the succeeding morning, by an inclination of the head 
 and a smile ; and nothing more passed between them until the 
 hour for Italian. She paused, seeing that Ida retained her seat. 
 " Are you not going in ?" she ventured to ask. 
 
 No." 
 
 There was a moment of hesitation, and she spoke again. " I 
 would not appear to dictate, but do you not fear Mr. Purcell 
 may construe your non-attendance into disrespect to himself ?" 
 
 " I fear nothing," was upon Ida's tongue, but her better 
 nature would not allow her to return rudeness for what, suspi- 
 cion could torture into nothing but disinterested kindness. 
 With a gleam of her former frankness she looked up at her 
 interlocutor, " You do not know as much as I do, or you would 
 understand the imitilitv of my presence at the trinl which comes
 
 A LONE. 23 
 
 off this morning. I would avoid a repetition of yesterday's 
 scene. One will suffice for a life-time." 
 
 " You met then with insult and injustice. To-day, Mr. Pur- 
 cell will shield you from both. As a gentleman, and a conscien- 
 tious judge, he cannot but see that Alboni's attack was uncalled 
 for, and decide against him." 
 
 " No man is conscientious when his conscience militates against 
 his purse and popularity." 
 
 Miss Carleton seemed shocked, and Ida added, hastily, " Our 
 views upon this, as upon most subjects, are very different, I 
 fancy; therefore, discussion is worse than useless. In this 
 instance, my determination is taken ;" and she opened her book. 
 
 "I will not attempt to shake it," replied her companion. 
 " But suffer me to hope for a longer conversation at some future 
 time, upon these topics, concerning which you think we differ. 
 There may be some points of agreement, and I, for one, am open 
 to conviction." 
 
 Again was Ida thrown off her guard, and the smile that 
 answered irradiated her face like a sudden sunbeam. But 
 when her class-mate had gone, she thought, " Weak fool! the 
 reserve I have striven for two years to establish, melted by a 
 soft speech of a school- girl. She is one of the would-be ' popu- 
 lar' sort, and would worm herself into confidence by an affectation 
 of sympathy and sweetness." 
 
 " Miss Koss," said Mr. Purcell, a while later, coming up to 
 her desk, "you will do me the favor to meet me in my study at 
 two o'clock." 
 
 At the time designated, she walked with a stately tread 
 through the long school-room, unabashed by the hundred curious 
 eyes bent upon her; for a summons to "the study" was an event 
 of rare occurrence, and had been heretofore the harbinger of 
 some important era in the annals of school-dom. Ida was pre- 
 pared for every thing' partiality could dictate, and tyranny 
 execute ; but Mr. Purcell was alone, and his demeanor anything 
 but menacing. " He thinks to cajole me," whispered the fell 
 demon Distrust, and her heart changed to steel. 
 
 " Miss Ida," began the principal, mildly, " this is your third 
 session in this institution, and I can sincerely declare that during 
 that time, your propriety of behaviour, and diligence in study
 
 24 ALONE. 
 
 have not been surpassed. I have never had a young lady under 
 my care, whose improvement was more rapid of whose attain- 
 ments I was more proud ; but I regret to say, never one whose 
 confidence I failed so signally to gain. A teacher's task, iny 
 dear Miss Ross, is at best an arduous one, but if he receive no 
 recompense for his toil in the affection of those for whom he 
 labors, his life is indeed one of cheerless drudgery. You appear 
 to regard me as a mere machine. For a time I attributed your 
 reserve to diffidence, and trusted that time and my efforts would 
 dissipate it. On the contrary, the distance between us has 
 increased. You hold yourself aloof from your school-mates, 
 repelling every offered familiarity, yet I have seen you weep 
 after such an act. Your cheek glows with enthusiasm when 
 your favorite studies engage your mind, and you relapse into 
 frigid hauteur when recalled to the actual world around you. 
 You have feeling as well as intellect you are acting a part 
 assumed from some unaccountable fancy; or, I would rather 
 believe, put upon you by necessity. The evidence of your want 
 of reliance in my friendship which you have given me to-day, 
 has determined me to speak candidly with you. I would not 
 wrest a confession from you which you might afterwards repent, 
 but I entreat you to look upon me as a friend who has a paternal 
 love for each member of his numerous family, who desires to see 
 you happy, and asks not your confidence, but that you will let 
 him serve you." 
 
 Ida sat like a statue. He resumed in a tone of disappointment 
 "As to the unjustifiable charge brought by Signer Alboni I 
 am aware how galling is even the appearance of humiliation upon 
 so proud a spirit. I have investigated the matter carefully. The 
 testimony of your friend, Miss Carleton, would of itself have been 
 sufiicient to exonerate you. It was confirmed by the voice of the 
 class, and the inevitable consequence is, that Signer Alboni no 
 longer has a place in my school. I can safely promise that the 
 teacher I have selected in his stead, will oppose no impediment 
 to your progress." 
 
 Shame for her unjust accusations, and remorseful gratitude 
 pierced Ida's bosom. Greatly agitated, she approached her 
 instructor, when Mr. Read walked in ; a cynical iceberg ! 
 Every generous emotion all softness vanished on the instant.
 
 ALONE. 26 
 
 His inquiring glance encountered one as freezing. " I will not 
 detain you longer, Mr. Purcell/' she said, as if concluding a 
 business arrangement. " As nearly as I can understand, your 
 object in sending for me was to secure me as a pupil of the new 
 language-master. Having undertaken the study of the Italian, 
 I prefer going through with the course. Mr. Read will settle 
 the terms. Good afternoon, gentlemen;" and with the mien of 
 3 duchess she left them. 
 
 Mr. Read " had been delayed by pressing business. Miss 
 Ross requested him to see Signor Alboni was sorry he was 
 late presumed all was right, etc.," and walked out again. Mr. 
 Purcell was too much hurt, and too indignant at his pupil's con- 
 duct, to care whether he stayed or not. 
 
 The misguided girl had alienated a true friend, and she knew 
 it felt it in her heart's core. In the solitude of her chamber 
 she wept bitter tears : " I have cast away the gem for which I 
 would sell my soul ! While I thirsted for the waters of affec- 
 tion, I struck down the hand that held them to my lip. It is 
 my fate I was not born to be loved I hate myself whv 
 should I inspire others with a different feeling ?" 
 
 In vain she tried to reason herself into a belief of Mr. Pur- 
 cell's insincerity. Truth speaks with a convincing tongue, and 
 she knew that the imputation of interested motives she had 
 hurled at him in the unfortunate revulsion of feeling, was 
 unfounded. 
 
 In intermission next day, a note was laid upon Ida's desk, 
 inscribed in towering capitals, to " Misses Ross and Carleton.*" 
 It ran thus : " 
 
 " At a large and enthusiastic meeting of the Italian class of 
 Mr. Purcell' a Young Ladies' Female Seminary, convened on 
 yesterday afternoon, the succeeding resolutions were proposed, 
 and carried unanimously . 
 
 "Resolved) That whereas, Miss Ida Ross and Miss Caroline 
 Carleton, members of the aforesaid class, have, by their spirited 
 independence delivered us from an oppression as grinding as that 
 under which our Revolutionary forefathers groaned, a vote of 
 thanks shall be tendered them in the name of their compatriots. 
 And 
 
 3
 
 26 ALONE. 
 
 " Resolved, Moreover, that we bind ourselves to assist them 
 by our united suffrages in the attainment of any honor for which 
 they shall hereafter be candidates, whether the dunce-block or 
 the gold medal. ANNA TALBOT, Chairman. 
 
 ELLEN MORRIS, Secretary. 
 
 The event which had elicited this public manifestation, was 
 to Ida, connected \vith too much that was unpleasant, to allow 
 her to smile at the pompous communication. She passed it 
 gravely to her neighbor. She laughed at the ludicrous repeti- 
 tion of feminity in the second line, and at the conclusion, 
 bounded upon the platform where stood Mr. Purcell's desk, 
 and commenced a flourishing harangue " for herself and col- 
 loague," expressing their gratitude at the flattering tribute from 
 their fellow-laborers, and pledging themselves to uphold forever 
 their honor and lawful privileges. " In the language of your 
 eloquent resolution, my sisters, we form a < Young Ladies' 
 Female Seminary' womanfully will we battle for woman's 
 rights." 
 
 " Hush-h-h !" and Mr. Purcell was discovered standing behind 
 the crowd. He stood aside to let the blushing orator return to 
 her scat, remarking in an under-tone as she passed, "I must 
 take care to enlist such talents in my service I shall be undone 
 if they are directed against me." 
 
 " Oh Carry ! what did he say ?" whispered Fanny Porter. 
 
 " Nothing very dreadful," she returned, laughingly. Ida 
 looked on in surprise, Josephine with scorn; but to the majority, 
 this little episode in their monotonous life was a diverting enter- 
 tainment. 
 
 " Give me a girl who is not too proud to relish a joke," said 
 Ellen Morris. " Ida Ross is above such buffoonery She would 
 not have demeaned her dignity before the school." 
 
 " But Carry spoke for her too," said Emma Glenn, a meek, 
 charitable creature. "Perhaps modesty, not pride, kept her 
 silent." 
 
 "Fiddlesticks !" was the school-girlish rejoinder. 
 
 Ida had missed a chance for making herself popular. The 
 girls were moved to admiration by her manner of resenting 
 Alboni's rudeness, and their joy at getting rid of him, assumed
 
 ALONE. 27 
 
 the shape of gratitude to their champion. She was for the hour 
 a heroine, and might have retained her stand, but for her cool 
 treatment of their advances. She saw, without understanding 
 the reason of the change, that there was now a mingling of dis- 
 like in their neglect ; and as she sank in their esteem, Carry 
 mounted. Mr. Purcell never noticed her out of the recitation 
 room Mr. Head was more lofty Josephine more contemptuous 
 than ever Inmates of one house occupying adjacent cham- 
 bers sitting at the same board at home, and within speaking 
 distance at school, the two girls had not one feeling in common 
 a spark of affection one for the other.. Open ruptures were 
 infrequent now, although they were innumerable during the first 
 months of their companionship. They appeared together in pub- 
 lic this Mr. Head enjoined " It was due to his reputation, 
 people should not say that his daughter's privileges exceeded 
 his ward's." Further than this he did not interfere. He saw 
 them only at meal-times, and in the evening ; then Josephine 
 presided over the tea-tray with skill and grace, and amused 
 him, if he wished it, by reading, singing or talking. Ida did as 
 she pleased. There were no requirements, no . privations. In 
 the eyes of the world her situation was unexceptionable. They 
 knew nothing of the covert sneers which smiled down any ten- 
 dency to what the torpid minds of the father and daughter 
 considered undue enthusiasm; their sarcastic notice of her "sin- 
 gularities," their studied variance with her views; but to her, 
 bondage and cruelty would have been more tolerable. Yet this 
 mocking surveillance this certainty of ridicule, could not always 
 check the earnest expression of a grasping intellect and ardent 
 temperament; and there were not a few who frequented the 
 house, who preferred the piquancy of her conversation, when 
 they could draw her out of the snow-caverns of her reserve, to 
 the trite common-places and artificial spirits of Miss Read. 
 
 Among these was Mr. Dermott, an Irish gentleman of con- 
 siderable scientific renown, and a traveller of some note ; hard 
 upon forty years of age, but enjoying life with the zest of 
 twenty. Ida's intelligent countenance had pleased him at their 
 introduction, and having letters to Mr. Read, he embraced every 
 opportunity to improve the acquaintance. 
 
 " I shall not go to school to-day," said Josephine, one morn-
 
 28 ALONE. 
 
 ing, " father expects Mr. Dermott and several other gentlemen 
 to dine with him, and I cannot be spared. He says you must 
 come home in time for dinner." 
 
 ( j> As school breaks up at three, and you will not dine before 
 five, there was no need to issue the command;" said Ida, irritated 
 at her arrogant tone. 
 
 " Very well, I have delivered the message." 
 
 Mr. Head was dissatisfied that his ward did not enter the 
 drawing-room until dinner was announced. " It did not look 
 well," and her nonchalant air and slight recognition of the 
 party, did not " speak well for his bringing up." But the 
 current veered before meal was over. The fowls were under- 
 done, and the potatoes soaked. His glance of displeasure at his 
 daughter was received with such imperturbability, that he chafed 
 at the impossibility of moving her, and his desire to render some- 
 body uncomfortable. The latter wish was not left ungratified. 
 One after another felt the influence of his lowering brow, and 
 imitated his silence, until Mr. Dermott and Ida were the only 
 ones who maintained a connected conversation. He talked 
 fluently with the humor peculiar to his countrymen, and had 
 succeeded in interesting his listener. She had naturally a 
 happy laugh, which in earlier years rung out in merry music ; 
 and as the unusual sound startled him from time to time, Mr. 
 Read took it as a personal affront. Could not she see that he 
 was out of temper ? He had punished the rest for the cook's 
 misdeeds, how' dare she, while they sat 'neath the thunder cloud 
 of his magnificent wrath, sport in the sunshine ? It was auda- 
 cious bravado. She should rue it ere long. Josephine readily 
 obeyed his signal to leave the table, so soon as it could be done 
 with a semblance of propriety. I will hear the rest, by and 
 by," said Ida to Mr. Dermott, "au revoir." Neither of the 
 girls spoke after quitting the dining-room. Josephine lay upon 
 a lounge, with half-closed lids, apparently drowsy or fatigued, 
 in reality, wakeful and watching. Ida walked back and forth, 
 humming an Irish air pleased and thoughtful. Then taking 
 from the bookcase a volume of " Travels," she employed herself 
 in looking it over. 
 
 " See I" said she, at Mr. Dermott's reappearance, " it is as I 
 thought. This author's account varies, in some respects, from
 
 ALONE. 
 
 yours ; and at the peril of my place in your good graces, I 
 inust declare my prejudices to be with him. A spot so cele- 
 orated, so sacred in its associations, cannot be as uninteresting 
 as you would have me to think. Come, confess, that the jolting 
 camel and surly guide were accessories to your discontent." 
 
 Josephine lost the answer, and much that followed. She was 
 joined by young Pemberton, a fop of the first water, with sense 
 enough to make him uneasy in the society of the gifted, and 
 meanness to rejoice in their discomfiture and misfortune. For 
 the rest, he was weak and hot-headed, a compound of conceit 
 and malice. Time was when he admired Ida. He had an 
 indefinite notion that a clever wife would reflect lustre upon 
 him ; and a very decided appreciation of her more shining and 
 substantial charms. 
 
 Her repulse was a mortal offence : small minds never forget, 
 much less pardon a rebuke to their vanity, and he inly swore 
 revenge. But how to get it ? She rose superior to his witless 
 sarcasms, and more pointed slights; reversing the arrows towards 
 himself, and his mortification heated into hatred. Josephine was 
 aware of this feeling, and its cause ; and while despising, in a 
 man, a weakness to which she was herself a prey, foreseeing that 
 he might prove a convenient tool, she attached him to her by 
 suasives and flatteries. 
 
 " It is a positive relief to talk to you, Miss Josephine/' he 
 yawned, I am surfeited with literature and foreigners. These 
 travelled fellows are outrageous bores, with their bushy mousta- 
 chios and outlandish lingo. How the ladies can fawn upon 
 them as they do, I cannot comprehend." 
 
 " Do not condemn us all for the failings of a part. There are 
 those who prefer pure gold to gilded trash." 
 
 " For your sake, I will make some exceptions," with a " kill- 
 ing" look. " But what do you imagine to be the object of that 
 flirtation ? No young lady of prudence or proper self-respect, 
 would encourage so boldly the attentions of a stranger. Sup- 
 posing him to be what he represents, (a thing by no means 
 certain,) she cannot intend to marry him a man old enough to 
 be her father !' 
 
 " But, 'unison of tastes,' < concord of souls,' etc., will go far 
 towards reconciling her to the disparity of years/' observed 
 3*
 
 30 ALONE. 
 
 Josephine, ironically; not sorry to strike up'on this tender point. 
 He tried to laugh, but with indifferent success. 
 
 Ida's voice reached them, and they stopped to listen. 
 " I ain afraid my conceptions of Eastern life and scenery are 
 more poetical than correct. I picture landscapes sleeping in 
 warm, rich, ( Syrian sunshine,' ' sandal groves and bowers of 
 spice/ 
 
 ' Ruined shrines, and towers that seem 
 The relics of some splendid dream,' 
 
 such a Fairy Land as ignorance and imagination create." 
 
 " The Utopia of one who studies Lalla Rookh more than 
 < Eastern Statistics,' or < Incidents of Travel,' " said Mr. Der 
 mott, smiling. " Yet Moore's descriptions are not so much 
 overwrought as some suppose. His words came continually to 
 my tongue. He has imbibed the true spirit of Oriental poetry; 
 the melancholy, which, like the ghost of a dead age, broods over 
 that oldest of lands; the passion flushing under their tropical 
 sun ; their wealth of imagery. Lalla Rookh reads like a trans- 
 lation from the original Persian. The wonder is that he has 
 never been self-tempted to visit the 'Vale of Cashmere' in 
 person." 
 
 " Campbell, too, having immortalized Wyoming, will not cross 
 the ocean to behold it," said Ida. 
 
 There was a consultation between the confederates, and Pem- 
 berton crossed to Ida's chair, with a smirk that belied the fire 
 in his eye. 
 
 11 Excuse me, Mr. Dermott, Miss Ida, I am commissioned to 
 inquire of you the authorship and meaning of this quotation 
 
 ' Deeply, darkly, desperately blue !' " 
 
 It is impossible to convey a just impression of the offensive 
 tone and emphasis with which this impertinence was uttered. 
 The quick-witted Irishman saw through the design in an 
 instant. " It is from a Scotch author," said he, before Ida 
 could reply, " and the rhyme runs after this fashion 
 
 'Feckless, fairlie, farcically fou!'" 
 
 and not deigning a second glance at the questioner, he con- 
 tinued his account of a visit he had paid to Moore. The object
 
 ALONE. 
 
 of this merciless retort stood for a second, in doubt ;. 
 meaning, and then walked off, still in incertitude. Ida's ^ 
 while it might have been in respc. , 7\Ir. Dermott' s .31-3 
 assured Josephine that her end was v : :cmplished, befc ii 
 messenger had delivered his lame re 
 
 " She understood me, and it cut pretty deeply, but that pv ; 
 of a paddy answered for her. He repeated the next line, im 
 1 from a Scotch author,' he said, but I believe he made it up." 
 
 " What was it ?" asked Josephine. 
 
 " < Fairly, farcically fou,' or something like that. If I were 
 sure that last word meant fool, I would knock him down. Do 
 you understand Scotch?" 
 
 " No," replied Josephine, vexed, but afraid to excite him 
 further. "He is beneath the notice of a gentleman ; we can 
 let him alone." 
 
 But Ida's share in this was not to be overlooked. Josephine 
 appeared as usual at breakfast : talkative to her father, and taci- 
 turn to her female companion. At length she inquired, mean- 
 ingly, "by the way, Ida, when does your travelled Hibernian 
 4 lave this counthry ?' " 
 
 " If you speak of Mr. Dermott, I do not know." 
 
 " Is it not remarkable," said Josephine to her parent, " that 
 polish and purify as you may, you cannot cure an Irishman of 
 vulgarity? Irish he is, and Irish he will remain to the end oi 
 the chapter." 
 
 " Dermott behaves very decently, does he not ? His letters 
 of recommendation introduction, I would say, describe him as 
 a pattern gentleman." 
 
 Josephine lifted her brows. " It is a misfortune to be fas- 
 tidious ; my education has rendered me so. I cannot tolerate 
 elang or abuse, especially when directed at a superior in polite- 
 ness, if not in assurance." 
 
 "What now?" demanded Mr. Read, impatiently; and Ida, 
 unable to hear more in silence, started up from the table. 
 
 "Wait, if you please," said Josephine, with that metallic 
 glitter of her grey eyes. " I wish you to repeat your friend's 
 reply to Mr. Pcmberton, when he was the bearer of a civil mes- 
 sage from me."
 
 32 ALONE. 
 
 " I heard no message of that description," retorted Ida, 
 unmoved. 
 
 " He did not repeat a line of poetry, and ask the author's 
 name, I presume ?" 
 He did." 
 And you furnished the required information?" 
 
 ' I did not." 
 
 f Mr. Dermott did, then. What was his answer?" 
 
 I do not choose to tell. I am not in the habit of playing 
 spy and informer." 
 
 " Then I shall repeat it. /am not in the habit of winking at 
 impudence or transgressions of the most common laws of society. 
 What do you say, sir, of a man who, in the presence of ladies, 
 calls another a { farcical fool?' " 
 
 " That he is a foreign jackanape. He never darkens my 
 door again. You heard this?" to Ida. 
 
 I did not, sir, but Mr. Pemberton displays such penetration 
 in discovering, and taste in fitting on caps that could suit no one 
 else so well, I am not inclined to contest his title to this latest 
 style." 
 
 " I do not wonder at your defence of your erudite suitor," 
 said Josephine, laying a disagreeable stress upon the adjective. 
 "If he were to single me out in every company, as the one being 
 capable of appreciating him, I, too, should be blinded by the 
 distinction attendant upon my notoriety. But as His Highness 
 never gives token, by word or deed, of his consciousness of the 
 existence of so unpretending a personage, I may be pardoned 
 uiy impartial observation and judgment. I do not expect you 
 to forbid his visits, sir, but I wish it understood that / am not 
 it home when he calls." 
 
 " And that you reject his attentions ?" asked Ida, dryly. 
 
 Josephine did not like her smile, yet saw no danger in reply- 
 ing "assuredly!" 
 
 "It is a pity," was the rejoinder, that your resolution was 
 not postponed until Tuesday." 
 
 And why?" said Mr. Read. 
 
 " Mr. Dermot informed me last night that he had secured three 
 tickets for the concert of Monday evening, and requested permis- 
 sion to call for Josephine and myself. I told him that she had
 
 ALONE. 33 
 
 expressed anxiety to attend, and that I was disengaged. She 
 was not in the parlor when he left, and he entrusted the invita- 
 tion to me. He will be here this forenoon for her answer. As 
 things now stand, his visit will be extremely mal-apropos. I 
 shall decline for myself; she can do the same." 
 
 Josephine prudently lowered her eye-lids, but her lips were 
 white with rage. She had especial reasons for desiring to go to 
 this concert. Every body was running mad after the principal 
 performer : absence from necessity would be a pitiable inflic- 
 tion ; to stay away from choice, irrefragable proof of want of 
 taste. To be escorted thither by Mr. Dermott, would give her 
 an eclat the devotion of a score of Pembertons could not pro- 
 duce. In seeking to mortify another, she had pulled down this 
 heavy chagrin upon her own head, common fate of those who 
 would make the hearts and backs of their fellows the rounds of 
 their ladder to revenge or to fame. 
 
 Even Mr. Head was momentarily disconcerted. " I will pro- 
 cure you a ticket," he said, consolingly. 
 
 That tongue was used to falsehood, yet it did not move as 
 glibly as was its wont, as she replied, " I do not care to go, sir." 
 
 " That is fortunate," said Ida, " as every seat was taken yes- 
 terday. You do not object to my withdrawing now ?" 
 
 The shot had gone home; her enmity was gratified; she had 
 not been anxious to attend from the first, and therefore was not 
 disappointed ; she did not suffer from pained sensibility ; the 
 frequency of these encounters had inured her to ambushed attack; 
 she was fast becoming a match for them in stoicism, and sur- 
 passed them in satire; in this skirmish she had borne flying 
 colours from the field; but had the contrary of all these things 
 been true, she could not have been more wretched She hated, 
 as spirits like hers only can hate, her cold-hearted persecutors, 
 and exulted in their defeat; yet close upon triumph came a 
 twinge of remorse and a sense of debasement. 
 
 " I am sinking to their level ! I could compete with them upon 
 no other ground. They are despicable in their worldliness and 
 malice ; shall I grovel and hiss with them ? It seems inevitable 
 debarred as I am from all associations which can elevate and 
 clear my mind. Oh ! the low envy in that girl's face as she 
 named my < suitor !' Destitute of mental wants herself, she
 
 34 ALONE. 
 
 thinks of nothing but courtship and a settlement! But this 
 matter must be arranged." 
 
 She opened her writing-desk. Her chamber was her retreat 
 and sanctum, and she had lavished much taste and time in fit- 
 ting it up. All its appurtenances spoke of genius and refine- 
 ment. With a poetic love for warm colors and striking contrasts, 
 crimson and black relieved, each the other, in her carpet and 
 curtains. The bedstead, seats and tables, fashioned into elegant 
 and uncommon forms by her orders, were draped and cushioned 
 with the same Tyrian hue. Books and portfolios were heaped 
 and strewed upon the shelves and stands; and in one corner, 
 upon a wrought bronze tripod, was an exquisite statuette a girl 
 kneeling beside an empty cage, the lifeless songster stark and 
 cold in her hand Several of Ida's schoolmates were with her 
 when she purchased it from an itinerant Italian. They saw in 
 the expression of hopeless sadness, only regret for her bird. Ida 
 noted that her gaze was not upon its ruffled plumes, but to its 
 silent home; and that one hand lay upon her heart. Looking 
 mor<} narrowly she discerned upon the pedestal the simple excla- 
 mation, " Et inon coeur !" 
 
 Henceforward it had become her Lares. She had scattered 
 flowers over it, kissed it weepingly, and with lips rigid in stern 
 despair, laid her hot brow to the white forehead of the voiceless 
 mourner. She must have something to love, and the insensate 
 image was dear, because it told of a grief such as hers. Now, 
 after she dipped her pen in the standish, she paused to contem- 
 plate it, the red light bathing it in a life-like glow, and the 
 blood receded from her face, as she uttered aloud its touching 
 complaint, Et mon coeur !" 
 
 Writing a note to Mr. Dermott, in which, without stating her 
 reasons, she declined his offer, she dispatched it by one of hex 
 own servants, lately promoted to the office of Abigail, and attired 
 herself for a walk. It was Saturday, and the weather faultless. 
 A sigh of relief escaped her when she was in the outer air she 
 was free for a while. The streets were densely peopled dash- 
 ing ladies, and marble-playing urchins, glorying in the holiday; 
 bustling, pushing men, and lazy nurses lugging fat babies ; and 
 through the incongruous crowd the pale thinker threaded her 
 way, jostling and jostled, wrapped in herself, as they thought
 
 ALONE. 35 
 
 but of their individual personality, with this difference they 
 spfined happy in their selfishness; she was miserable in her iso- 
 lation. She did not see that Pemberton passed her with a stift 
 bow, which, in punishment for her non-recognition, he resolved 
 should be exchanged for a decided " cut" at their next meeting; 
 did not catch Mr. Purcell's eye, as forgetting her rebuff in his 
 pleasure at espying one, who could rightly value the prize he had 
 discovered in an antiquated volume, musty with age, he beckoned 
 to her from the door of the bookstore ; did not hear Emma G lenn's 
 modest "Good morning, Miss Ida/' although she liked the child, 
 and would have loved her if she had dared. She turned from 
 the busy thoroughfare into an unfrequented street, keeping the 
 same rapid pace ; the mind was working, the body must be mov- 
 ing too on, still on, with unflagging speed 'till she found her- 
 self upon the summit of the hill overlooking the lower part of 
 the city, and near the old churchyard. She stopped, and looked 
 in. A flight of steps led up to the burying-ground, several feet 
 above the level of the walk. What tempted her to ascend? 
 She had been there before, and was not interested yet the irre- 
 solution ended in her entrance. It was very still in that Acro- 
 polis of the dead : the long grass, yellow in the October sun, 
 waved without rustling ; the sere leaves drifted silently to the 
 ground; from the mass of buildings below her arose only a 
 measured beat rather than hum as regular, and not louder, 
 than the "muffled drum" within her bosom. The warring ele- 
 ments of discord sank into a troubled rest, but their conflict was 
 easier to be borne than the reaction that succeeded. 
 
 "Free among the dead;" forgotten as they, she sat upon a 
 broken tombstone, in the shadow of the venerable church, with 
 sorrowful eyes which looked beyond the city, the river, and the 
 undulating low-grounds skirting its banks. 
 
 She had said to herself an hundred times, " I cannot be happy ; 
 it is folly to hope." But this morning she felt she had never 
 until now relinquished hope; that despair, for the first time, 
 stalked through the deserted halls of her heart, and the dreaded 
 echo " alone" answered his footsteps. 
 
 It is easy to give up the world, with its million sources of 
 delight, to share the adverse fortunes of one dearer than all its
 
 36 ALONE. 
 
 painted show; it is sweet to bid adieu to its frivol ties, for the 
 hope of another and a "better," but 
 
 " When the draught so fair to see 
 Turns to hot poison on the lip;" 
 
 when the duped soul cries out against the fair pretence that 
 promised so much and gave so little, when it will none of it, and 
 puts it by with loathing disgust ; yet resorts to nothing more 
 real and pure; what art can balm a woe like this ? 
 
 A click of the gate-latch, and voices warned her that her soli- 
 tude was about to be invaded. " I will wait here half an hour/' 
 said familiar tones. " Thank you/' was the reply;" "you need 
 not stay longer; if she is at home 1 shall spend the day." "Very 
 well ; good bye," and Carry Carlton ran up the steps. Retreat 
 was impossible, for their eyes met at once, and to the new visitor 
 the meeting appeared to give satisfaction. 
 
 * "I am, indeed, fortunate," said she, saluting Ida, and taking 
 a place beside her, "I expected to pass a solitary half-hour. One 
 of the girls came with me to the gate. She has gone to see her 
 aunt, and may not return to-day. This is a favorite spot of mine. 
 I am laughed at for the choice, yet it seems I am not as singular 
 as they would have me believe. Do you come here often ?" 
 
 " This is only my second visit." 
 
 "Indeed! But it is a long walk from your house. I live 
 nearer, although on the other hill." 
 
 " I understood you were from the country," said Ida. 
 
 " So I am but my sister resides here, and hers is another 
 home to me. I love the country, yet I like Richmond. It 
 is a beautiful city/' she continued, her glance roving over the 
 landscape. 
 
 " Outwardly yes." 
 
 " You do not think the inhabitants adapted to their abode, 
 then?" 
 
 " I do not know that they are worse than the rest of mankind. 
 It is a matter of astonishment to me, that this globe should have 
 been set apart as the theatre for so depraved a race." 
 
 " I don't know," said Carry, cheerily. " I find it a nice world 
 the best I am acquainted with ; and the people harmless, good
 
 ALONE. 37 
 
 creatures some dearer to me than others; but I entertain a 
 fraternal affection for all." 
 
 " I have read of philanthropists/' said Ida ; " but you are the 
 sole specimen I have seen. And this universal love is it con- 
 tent to exist without a reciprocation ?" 
 
 " The heart would be soon emptied were this so," returned 
 the other, her bright face becoming serious. " There are many 
 who love me ; if any dislike, I am in blissful ignorance of the 
 sentiment and its cause." 
 
 " But if your friends were removed, and replaced by enemies?" 
 
 " I would teach them friendship. My affection for the dead 
 would make me more desirous to benefit the living." 
 
 " And if they would not be conciliated if upon the broad 
 earth you had not an answering spirit ?" 
 
 " I should die !" 
 
 " How then do I live ?" nearly burst from Ida's heart, but 
 she smothered it, and replied, " It is easier to speak of death 
 than to brave it." 
 
 Death ! did I say death ?" exclaimed Carry. I saw life 
 as it would be were I bereft of father, sister, friends and I said 
 truly that it would not be worth the keeping but death ! I 
 would not rush on that ! I have such a horror of the winding- 
 sheet and the worm!" She shivered. 
 
 " Yet you like to be here ?" 
 
 " Yes. This is a sunny, cheerful place, with no fresh graves 
 to remind one that the work of destruction is still going on. I 
 love life. Others may expose its deceits, and weep above its 
 withered blooms; I see blue sky where they fancy clouds. It 
 is the day the time for action and enjoyment; who would 
 hasten the coming of the night impenetrable dawnless !" 
 
 " ' To die and go we know not where !' " 
 
 quoted Ida. " That line conveys all that I fear in death. ( There 
 have been seasons when the uncertainty shrouding the abyss 
 beyond alone prevented, my courting its embrace. Were it 
 eternal forgetfulness, how grateful would be its reposeT) Looking 
 around me here, I think of calm sleepers under these stones, 
 hands folded meekly upon bosoms that will never heave again ; 
 of aching heads and wearied spirits at rest forever." 
 4
 
 A LON 4. 
 
 " You are too young to covet this dreamless slumber," said 
 Carry " With your talents and facilities you have a work to 
 do in this world." 
 
 " What can I do ? and for whom ?" 
 
 " Why for every body." 
 
 " Too wide a scope define. For exampla, what are my school- 
 duties, setting aside my studies ?" 
 
 " We can help each other," was the modest rejoinder. " We 
 can impart pleasure, and avoid giving pain. Not a day passes 
 in which we cannot add a drop of sweet to the appointed draught 
 of some one of our fellow-creatures." 
 
 "Apropos to honey it suggests its opposite, gall, and our 
 ci-devant professor. I have not thanked you for your generous 
 interference in my behalf, on the day of our fracas," said Ida, 
 with an ease and cordiality that surprised herself. 
 
 " You magnify the favor. I spoke the truth. To withhold 
 it would have been dishonesty." 
 
 " Dishonesty !" 
 
 " Your character for veracity was assailed. I had the proof 
 which would establish it. I should have felt like a receiver of 
 stolen goods had I concealed it." 
 
 " Moreover, to your philanthropy, I was not an individual, 
 but the impersonation of the sisterhood ;" said Ida, jestingly. 
 
 " Perhaps so," returned Carry, in a like strain. " You remem- 
 ber the < Young Ladies' Female meeting.' " 
 
 " That was a piece of Ellen Morris' grandiloquence. Do you 
 know, I envy that girl her faculty of creating mirth wherever 
 she goes !" 
 
 " I had rather be Emma Glenn," said Carry. " One is witty, 
 the other affectionate, and they will receive respectively admira- 
 tion and love." 
 
 " I do not quite agree with you. Ellen's high spirits will 
 carry her through many a sharp battle, from which Emma's 
 sensitive nature would never recover. To combat with the 
 world one should have no heart; and I heard a clergyman once 
 say that a woman had no use for sense." 
 
 Carry laughed. " Between you, you would represent us as a 
 superfluous creation. Yet woman has her sphere, no less than 
 man ; and if he conquers in his by might of purpose and brute
 
 ALONE. 39 
 
 strength, she guides, instead of rules in hers, by love and sub- 
 mission. As for the world, that semi-fabulous ogre, supposed 
 to live somewhere, all out of doors, whose cold charities are pro- 
 verbial ; who eats up widow's houses, and grinds the poor ; we 
 have no dealings with it. It is, to my notion, an innocent bug- 
 bear, kept by the men, to prevent us from meddling in their 
 business matters ; and to melt flinty-hearted wives into pity for 
 one, who has been fighting this monster all day, and has now to 
 drink smoked tea, and eat burnt toast for supper." 
 
 " Are you ever sad ?" questioned Ida. 
 
 " Not often, why do you ask ?" 
 
 tl You appear so light-hearted. I was at a loss to determine 
 whether it was natural or feigned." 
 
 " My spirits are good, chiefly from habit, I believe. My 
 father is remarkably cheerful. It is a maxim of his, that we 
 are unjust, when we cause others to do penance for our humors ; 
 they have trouble enough of their own to bear. Controlling the 
 manifestations of temper and discontent, is generally followed 
 by the suppression of the feelings themselves. It has been so 
 with me." 
 
 " See that burlesque of life !" said Ida, pointing. " Children 
 turning somersets upon a tomb-stone !" 
 
 The tomb was built with four brick walls, supporting a 
 horizontal tablet; and upon this flat surface, the irreverent 
 youngsters were gambolling. One, the most agile, and the 
 leader of the troop, was, as she spoke, in the act of performing 
 a vehemently encored feat, viz. : throwing two somersets upon 
 the marble, another in transits for the ground, and a fourth, 
 after landing upon the turf. Two were accomplished in safety, 
 the third was a flying leap, and he did not move afterwards. 
 The children screamed, and the girls ran to the spot. In fall- 
 ing, he had struck his head against a stone, and was senseless, 
 the blood gushing from a wound in, or near the temple. Carry 
 rested his head upon her arm, and with nervous haste, unbut- 
 toned his collar. Where are his parents ?" inquired Ida. But 
 they only cried the louder. I fear he is killed I" said Carry. 
 Ida shook her purse at the terrified group. " Who will bring 
 me a doctor, who, his mother ?" Her collected manner tended 
 to quiet them, as much as the clink of coin. Half-a-dozen
 
 40 ALONE. 
 
 scampered in as many directions, and she ordered the rest off, 
 without ceremony. There was no rebellion. Each had a mis- 
 giving that he was to blame for the casualty, and they were 
 glad to skulk away. 
 
 The handkerchief which Carry held to the gash, was saturated, 
 and Ida supplied hers. He showed no sign of life, except that 
 Ida imagined that she detected a feeble fluttering of the heart. 
 Carry wept as though her heart would break. " Poor little fellow I" 
 she exclaimed repeatedly. Ida did not shed a tear, but her com- 
 pressed lips and contracted brow said this did not proceed from 
 insensibility. I cannot bear this suspense," she said. " I will 
 look for a doctor myself, if you are not afraid to stay here alone." 
 
 " No, go I" 
 
 She met the medical man at the gate. It was Mr. Read's 
 family physician, who chanced to be in the neighborhood. "Oh, 
 Dr. Ballard I" exclaimed Ida. " 1 am rejoiced to see you I" 
 
 " And I am always happy to meet Miss Ross but what is 
 this about a boy killed ? None of your friends, I hope." 
 
 Ida explained, as she led him to the scene of the disaster. It 
 seemed ill-timed to the agitated girls, to see him touch his hat, 
 with grave courtesy, to Carry, as he stooped to make an examina- 
 tion. <' He is not dead," he said, feeling the pulse and heart; 
 " but it came near being an awkward hurt. Miss Ross, I will 
 trouble you to call one of those boys, and send him for my ser- 
 vant, who is in the street with my carriage. If I only had some 
 soft linen I" looking around. Ida took an embroidered scarf 
 from her neck. He tore it into strips, rolled them into a ball, 
 and bound it tightly upon the cut. Where does he live ?" he 
 asked. 
 
 The. information was furnished by the boy's mother, who 
 hurried up at this instant. She, with her reviving son, were put 
 into the carriage, and the doctor stepped in after them. 
 
 The girls had no inclination to linger in the church-yard. 
 The conversation, during their walk, ran upon the accident; 
 but as they parted at the corner of the streets diverging to their 
 separate abodes, Carry expressed a strong desire for the con- 
 tinuation of the acquaintance. " We have had an odd talk this 
 morning ;" said she smiling ; " I would not have you regard it 
 as a fair sample of my conversational powers."
 
 ALONE. 41 
 
 Ida walked homeward with a lightened fjpirit. " Odd" as was 
 their talk, and alarming as was the incident which interrupted 
 it, .she was better for both. There was a charm in Carry's 
 frankness, which beguiled her confidence, and her cheerful phi- 
 losophy was a pleasant, if not a prudent rule, for making one's 
 way in life. She dwelt upon her declaration, that each day 
 brought its opportunities for benevolent deeds; and her con- 
 science responded joyfully to the appeal, "Have I contributed 
 iny drop of sweet to-day?" by pointing to her exertions for the 
 relief of the unknown sufferer. Carry had praised her presence 
 of mind, and the doctor complimented her warmly. "If I have 
 not given pleasure, I have mitigated pain." 
 
 The struck chord ceased to vibrate as she reached the house 
 where she had suffered and learned so much. When she came 
 down to dinner, she was impassive and distant. Mr. Read vouch- 
 safed to inquire if she had seen Mr. Dermott. She replied in 
 the negative. 
 
 " I thought there was an arrangement to that effect ;" said he, 
 sneeringly. 
 
 " I addressed a note to him which made his call unnecessary." 
 
 11 1 do not presume to meddle with your correspondence, Miss 
 Ross;" with "immense" stiffness; "but I trust neither my name, 
 or that of my daughter was contained in that communication." 
 
 "I am responsible for my actions, sir; it is certain I never 
 thought of referring them to your influence. I suppose Mr. 
 Dermott is satisfied, 1a.m." 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 MR. PURCELL, himself an able connoisseur and liberal patron 
 of the fine arts, never suffered a suitable occasion to pass, without 
 endeavoring to implant, and cultivate like tastes in his pupils. 
 No "Exhibition" or Collection was recommended unadvisedly. 
 He justly considered a relish for a vicious or false style, worse 
 than none. So well was this known, that the girls were equally 
 4*
 
 42 ALONE. 
 
 eager to examine what he esteemed worthy of their inspection, 
 and to avoid that which he condemned. An artist visited the 
 city, and advertised a set of "choice paintings, on exhibition for 
 a few days." They were much talked of, and the scholars impa- 
 tiently listened for the verdict of their principal. There were 
 many smiling faces, when he announced, that he accepted, with 
 pleasure, the polite invitation of the artist to himself and the 
 members of his school. " The pictures were the work of a master 
 hand; he recommended them to their careful study." That 
 afternoon, the studio was full. Some went from curiosity; some 
 to be in the fashion; comparatively a small number through 
 genuine love for the art. Among the latter class was Ida 
 Koss. Bestowing little notice upon her acquaintances present, 
 she passed around the room, intent upon the object which had 
 drawn her thither. She was not disturbed ; her reserve repelled, 
 and her intellectual superiority awed ; she knew and they knew 
 that though with, she was not of them; as an institution, they 
 were proud of her; as individuals, with a very few exceptions, 
 they disliked and envied her. 
 
 The proprietor, or a gentleman, supposed to be he, was at a 
 desk, writing. He must have possessed the power of abstraction 
 in an extraordinary degree ; for the chattering about him resem- 
 bled the confabulations of a flock of magpies, more than the con- 
 versation of decorous young ladies. Groups came and departed; 
 and Ida did not mark the changes, until, diverted from the con- 
 templation of a splendid landscape by the sound of her own 
 name, she perceived a group near by, composed of four or five 
 girls and as many young men, none of them her well-wishers or 
 admirers ; their attention divided between herself, and a sketch 
 of St. John's church. Josephine was the magnet of the circle, 
 and behind her, was the smirking Pemberton. A single glance 
 took in all this, and features and expression were immobile a? 
 before. It was Josephine's voice she had heard ; its tones 
 higher than usual. She neither desired, nor affected conceal- 
 ment. 
 
 " As I was saying, the church-yard has been converted into a 
 gymnasium. The cry is no longer, ' Liberty or Death !' but 
 ' Leap Frog or die !' " 
 
 A general cachinnation applauded this felicitous hit.
 
 ALONE. 43 
 
 " On Saturday last" continued the narrator " the unri- 
 valled troupe were in the midst of one of their most elaborate 
 performances, encouraged by the presence I am not sure, but 
 assisted by a select company of spectators. I need only specify 
 Miss Ross and friend, name unknown to assure you of the high 
 respectability of the assemblage. Smiled upon by beauty, and 
 animated to superhuman exertions by soft glances from one, per- 
 chance too dear to his youthful heart, the chief of the band 
 threw his whole soul into his lofty undertaking, and alas ! his 
 body, also ! He arose, like the Phoenix, from the ashes below, 
 but to seek the earth again, having fallen from the frightful 
 height of three feet. He lay upon the sod without sense or 
 motion. The spectators pressed around, but, breaking through 
 the throng, came the fair nymphs aforesaid. One pillowed his 
 head upon her arm, and drenched his dusty brow with tears ; her 
 comrade wrung her hands, and shrieked for < help ! lest he die !' 
 The crowd, at a respectful distance, looked on ; venturing a whis- 
 per, now and then, to the purport that < it was as good as a play, 
 and cost nothing.' Warm brine and sounding air are poor medi- 
 cines for a cracked skull; and the sufferer remaining insensible, 
 a frantic damsel was seen, vaulting over tomb-stones, bonnetless 
 and shawlless, on the most direct route to the gate. A gallant 
 man of healing was passing, and him she conducted to the pros- 
 trate hero. Handkerchiefs and scarfs were stripped from necks 
 and arms to staunch the trickling gore ; and supported by his 
 affectionate nurses, the interesting youth gained his carriage. 
 Miss Eoss returned home with swollen eyes and downcast air. 
 The afternoon, evening, and most of the next day were spent in 
 retirement. This was a grief sympathy could not assuage." 
 
 " Did she tell you of it ?" asked one. 
 
 "'No. Madam Rumor is my informant, and her story is 
 vouched for by a gentleman, an eye witness of the catastrophe." 
 
 In this lamentable caricature, there was so little truth, and so 
 much less wit, that it should have been beneath the contempt of 
 her, at whom it was aimed ; but the ridicule was public. Her 
 bonnet hid her face, but the angry blood surged over her neck in 
 crimsoa streams. There was vengeful fury enough in the 
 grasp, which drove the nails through the paper she held, into 
 the palm, to have swept the tittering clique from the earth at u
 
 44 ALONE. 
 
 stroke Whatever purposo of retaliation sprang into life, it was 
 nipped in the bud. The desk of the supposed artist was in a 
 niche ; and the projecting wall Concealed it from the view of the 
 party. He was almost in front of her ; and her burning eyes 
 were arrested as they encountered his. There was no scorn, or 
 none for her, in that regard ; but warning, interest and inquiry 
 were blended with such earnestness, that, like the charmed bird, 
 nhe could not move or look away. Even when he cast his eyes 
 upon his work again, she did not, at once, withdraw hers. He 
 might have been thirty ; was pale, and not handsome, yet any- 
 thing but ordinary in his appearance. If his countenance had 
 betrayed emotion the previous moment, it vanished as his pen 
 began to move. He was the automaton scribe, and the subdued 
 Ida, drawing her shawl around her, quitted the place, without 
 exchanging a syllable with any one. 
 
 The spell of the silent rebuke was speedily dissolved, yet she 
 was grateful that it had restrained her hasty retort. The heated 
 in a quarrel, are always the defeated. Morbid sensibility is the 
 engendcrer of suspicion, and vice versa ; the two act and react, 
 until a smile, a look, is the foundation of weeks it may be, of 
 years of wretchedness. To such a mind, ridicule is a venomed 
 dart, piercing and poisoning, and pride but inflames the wound. 
 Dr. Ballard had showed the courtesy of a gentleman, and the 
 kindness of a friend in his entercourse with Ida. Unconsciously, 
 she had come to like, almost to trust him and this was at an 
 end. He, and he, only, could have provided the outline of the 
 narrative she had heard. She set her teeth hard, as she recalled 
 her agitated greeting at the gate; and his composure; her 
 subsequent offers of assistance "officious" she called them 
 now, and his calm acceptance. But it was base and unmanly, 
 to make capital for sport of the weakness of a woman a child, 
 compared with himself ! They are all alike I must believe 
 it ! with hearts rotten to the core ! Heaven have mercy on me, 
 until I am as callous as they !" And when he called, at some 
 personal inconvenience, to impart the intelligence of her 
 " protege's" recovery, she met him with a haughtiness that sur- 
 prised and angered him ; and his futile attempt to throw down 
 the barrier, resulted in his cutting short the interview. He had 
 told Mr. Read of Ida's adventure ; but not in the spirit in which
 
 ALONE. 45 
 
 its events were coarsely retailed. He lauded her kindness and 
 self-possession, in terms too extravagant to suit the zero humanity 
 of her guardian's narrow soul ; -as he wound up the story to his 
 daughter he " was not a man to get up a fit of heroics, and had 
 no idea that Ballard had so much palaver about him." 
 
 If his vile doctrine were indeed true, if all men were alike, 
 and like him, who of us would not unite in the orphan's prayer 
 would not cry, with her, in despairing bitterness, " Heaven 
 have mercy upon us, until we are as callous as they !" 
 
 She had no mercy upon herself. There was an unholy joy in 
 ruthlessly trampling upon the few flowers that grew in her path : 
 the ebullition of a desperate despair, as when one is tortured by 
 a raging tooth, he probes, and grinds and shakes the offending 
 member, self-inflicting yet more exquisite pain, but bearing it 
 better, under the insane impression that he is wreaking revenge 
 upon its cause ; saying, with the poor Dutchman, " ache on ! 
 ache on ! I can stand it as long as you can I" And "ache on ! 
 ache on !" said Ida to her heart, " the nerve will be dead by and 
 by!" 
 
 We consign to the lower pit of darkness the bloody demons, 
 cloaked in priestly stole, and " speaking great, swelling words of 
 wisdom" and peace, who tore limb from limb upon the rack, in 
 " zeal for the Faith !" but for him who pours out his atheistical 
 misanthropy, deadening, petrifying the soul, and blinding the 
 eyes, until in this, our lovely earth, they see but a mighty char- 
 nel-house, full of nameless abominations ; who traduces God, in 
 despising His noblest work, and says : " Behold the Truth !" the 
 murderer of the heart, what shall be his portion ! 
 
 Carry Carleton's liking for the company of "that proud, 
 disagreeable girl," and her defence of her when attacked, was a 
 nine days' wonder. True, she loved everybody," but here she 
 manifested partiality, far more than accorded with her school- 
 mates' notions of justice and reason. Carry was unwavering. 
 " I likaher," said she, one recess, when her corps of affectionate 
 teazers hung on and about her. "It wounds me to hear you 
 speak disparagingly of her. You must admit that she has 
 redeeming traits. She is one of our best scholars, and if in- 
 accessible, is upright and honorable, and will not stoop to do an 
 ignoble action."
 
 46 ALONE. 
 
 " Yes/' said Etnrna Glenn, happy to add her mite of praise, 
 "Don't you remember she found Julia Mason's composition 
 behind a desk in the cloak room, and brought it in examination 
 day, although she knew that she was her most dangerous com- 
 petitor for the prize ? I'm afraid I should have been tempted to 
 keep it, or leave it where it was." 
 
 "I should not be afraid to trust you, dear/' said Carry. 
 " You are too ready to commend such conduct in others, to act a 
 contrary part yourself. As for Ida have any of you reflected 
 how much of what you call her pride you are accountable for 1" 
 
 " We ! how ?" was the unanimous exclamation. 
 
 " I know my misdeeds are legion, and my good works, like 
 Parson Wilkins' text, < way off and hard to find/ but ' evil,' 
 indeed, as well as ' few, have been the years of my pilgrimage/ 
 if I had anything to do with the 'formation of Ida Ross' char- 
 acter I". said Ellen Morris, clasping her hands deprecatingly. 
 
 Ellen ! Ellen !" remonstrated Carry, think what effect a 
 remark like that would produce ! Would it increase her confi- 
 dence in you or us ? Would she not avoid us more then ever ? 
 She is an orphan, and should be dealt with more charitably, than 
 if her feelings had expanded in a home like yours." 
 
 "You do not believe she could love anybody !" said one of the 
 group. 
 
 Certainly I do, and I mean she shall love me. You would 
 make the same resolution, if you knew her as I do." 
 
 " An idea strikes me, Carry," said the incorrigible Ellen 
 
 " She and we have affinity for each other water and oil you 
 are the alkali, which is to reconcile us; we shall be a soap 
 manufactory, to cleanse and regenerate the world." 
 
 " A little vinegar facilitates the process, does it not ?" asked 
 Carry, good-humoredly. 
 
 " You have come to a poor market for it, my good Alkali; 
 upon second thoughts, you must leave me out of the combination 
 altogether salt, Attic, particularly, being detrimental to the 
 integrity of the article in question." 
 
 " Soap boiling and Attica !" said Anna Talbot, who was read- 
 ing a little apart, your conversation takes an extended range 
 to-day, young ladies." 
 
 " Both are warm places," returned Ellen. " Our imaginations
 
 ALONE. 47 
 
 needed thawing after perching so long upon the North Polo, 
 id cst, Ida Ross." 
 
 " You have offended Carry," said Emma, apprehensively, as 
 the former walked towards the other room. 
 
 " Not offended, but grieved," she replied, with sweet gravity. 
 "I should not love Ellen as I do, if I did not believe her heart 
 to be ofteuer in the right place than her tongue." 
 
 She passed into the recitation room, and there, her head bent 
 upon a desk, was Ida ! Carry was transfixed with dismay. Tho 
 door was a-jar she had heard it all ! But the relaxed limbs 
 the unmoving figure was she then asleep ? A minute's stay 
 ' confirmed this opinion ; and greatly relieved, she tripped lightly 
 out by another door. Ida did not sleep. She had left the larger 
 room at the close of morning recitations, seeking in the com- 
 parative quiet of this, some ease from a severe headache. She 
 did not think of concealment. After the gossip of the thought- 
 less circle turned upon herself, she still supposed that her 
 vicinity was known ; that their pretended unconsciousness was a 
 covering for a renewal of mortifications. To move would have 
 been matter for triumph, she was not disposed to supply. So 
 unjust does suspicion make us ! 
 
 Carry's disinterested vindication electrified her. To risk the 
 forfeiture of the favor of the many, for one who had never con- 
 ferred an obligation whose good will could profit her nothing ! 
 in her experience, the act lacked a parallel. " Can it be," she 
 thought, with stirring pulses, " can it be that I may yet find a 
 friend?" then, as Carry's "I am resolved she shall love me," 
 reached her, she bowed in thankfulness. " I will trust ! will 
 stake my last hope of ever meeting a kindred spirit upon this 
 throw will let her love me if she will, so help me God !" It 
 was no light vow. 
 
 Carry's intrusion was unobserved ; she was only sensible of the 
 incalescence of her frozen heart. The afternoon was cloudy, 
 and her maid was surprised to see her mistress preparing for her 
 promenade. 
 
 "Indeed, Miss Ida, you'll get caught in the shower; 'twont 
 be no little sprinkle, neither. When its starts to rain this time 
 o' year, it never holds up." 
 
 " Oh, well !" returned Ida, familiarly, if we have another
 
 48 ALONE. 
 
 deluge, I may as well be out of doors as in. But give me my 
 cloak, Rachel, I must have a short run before it sets in." 
 
 Josephine crossed the hall as she was going out. She stared, 
 but made no remark upon her unseasonable excursion. It was 
 less wonderful than the smile and nod she received. "It is 
 pleasant," said Ida to herself, "yet they talked of rain!" But 
 the siorm was -not to be delayed by inward sunshine. The 
 smoky fog grew denser; through the ominous calm which per- 
 vaded the city, the roaring of the distant " Falls" was distinctly 
 audible ; cows stood, solemnly herded together, the vapor from 
 their nostrils scarcely thicker than the surrounding atmosphere ; 
 and an occasional rain-drop trickling down their roughened 
 hides. Then the pavement was spotted with the precursors of 
 the prognosticated deluge, and a dash of spray into Ida's face 
 restored her to the perception of her actual position : a mile from 
 home, night and a tempest approaching. Ere a dozen steps 
 were retraced, she was met by the shower, November rain, 
 cutting and numbing as hail. Her veil, flimsy defence for her 
 face, was dripping in a moment, and the water streamed in 
 miniature cascades from her bonnet and shoulders. Bewildered 
 and dizzy, she sprang, without a thought, except the instinct 
 of self-preservation, into the shelter of a friendly porch. She 
 laughed, despite her uneasiness at her situation. " Wet, not 
 quite to the skin, but more damp than is comfortable ; sans 
 umbrella, over-shoes, carriage or servant, and where, I cannot 
 precisely determine." 
 
 "Walk in, do!" said a pleasant voice behind her. A lady 
 was holding the open door. "I thank you," Ida began, when a 
 figure glanced out of the entry. " Why, Ida ! my dear creature ! 
 how wet you are ! don't stand there a moment. I am so glad 
 you ran in ! This is my sister, Mrs. Dana my friend, Miss 
 Ross now we will go directly up stairs, and take off your damp 
 things !" and in the confusion of congratulations and regrets, Ida 
 did not know where she was, until she was seated in Carry's 
 room ; both sisters occupied in divesting her of such portions of 
 her apparel, as were likely, by their humidity, to endanger her 
 health. 
 
 " You are very kind," she said ; " but I cannot wait to have 
 these dried. I must go home."
 
 ALONE. 49 
 
 " Impossible !" cried the impulsive Carry. " I will not hear 
 of it. Just make up your mind to stay in your present quarters 
 until clear weather." 
 
 " Let me insist upon your staying, Miss Ross ;" said Mrs. 
 Dana. " I will send a messenger to your friends to inform them 
 of your safety." 
 
 " She will stay," said Carry, looking very positive. 
 
 Ida yielded with secret pleasure. Her guardian angel must 
 have guided her into this haven. Mrs. Dana was Carry's senior 
 by ten years or more, and resembled her more in voice and man- 
 ner, than feature. They had the same kind eyes and dimpling 
 smile. Having seen her guest comfortable, she gave her into 
 Carry's charge, and went to forward her message to Mr. Read. 
 " How it rains !" said Carry, drawing aside the curtain. " It ia 
 lucky you came when you did. Did you know we lived here ?" 
 
 " No, it was entirely accidental. I was walking, and did not 
 notice the clouds until the shower came ; then I took refuge in 
 the nearest house." 
 
 "A happy accident for me," said Carry. "I despaired of 
 ever persuading you to visit me. This storm was sent for my 
 express benefit. Sister and I are never tired of each other's 
 company; but the little ones demand much of her time; 
 and brother John Mr. Dana, often brings home writing, or 
 is detained at the store late at night, in the busy season, and 
 I am rather lonely." 
 
 " You are bent upon convincing me that all the obligation is 
 on your side/' returned Ida : " but compare the mermaid-like 
 fright which - shocked you, with the decent young lady before 
 you now, and recollect that my gratitude is proportionate to the 
 improvement." 
 
 A pretty little girl, about five years old, crept into the room. 
 
 "Come to aunt. Elle !" said Carry. "And speak to this 
 lady." 
 
 The child came up timidly to Ida, and slid her plump hand 
 into hers. She did not struggle, as she lifted her into her lap, 
 but looked steadfastly at her with her soft black eyes. " What 
 is your name ?" asked Ida. 
 
 " Elinor Dana," she answered, in her clear, childish voice. 
 5
 
 50 ALONE. 
 
 " Elinor I" repeated Ida, and the little one felt herself pressed 
 more closely to her breast." 
 
 " Do you like it ?" inquired Carry. 
 
 " It was my mother's name I" was the low reply. Elle put 
 up her lips for a kiss. She saw a pained look flit over the 
 countenance of the visitor, and administered the only panacea 
 she possessed. 
 
 " Is she your sister's eldest child ?" asked Ida, repaying the 
 caress. 
 
 " Yes. She has two younger j a boy and a girl. The babe is 
 my namesake." 
 
 " My brother is named Charles Arthur ; after uncle Charley 
 and uncle Arthur," ventured Elle. 
 
 And you love him very dearly, do you not ?" said Ida. 
 
 " Yes ma'am ; I love papa and mamma, and aunt Carry, and 
 uncle Charley, and uncle Arthur, and grandpa, and sister and 
 brother," said the child, running over the names with a volu- 
 bility that showed how used she was to the repetition. 
 
 " Will you love me too ?" asked Ida. The anxiety with which 
 she awaited the reply will not be sneered at by those who have 
 been, like her, starvelings in affection. 
 
 " Yes, you too, but I don't know what to call you." 
 
 " My name is Ida." 
 
 " Miss Ida, or cousin Ida?'' 
 
 " Cousin I" exclaimed Ida, catching at the word. " Call me 
 cousin !" 
 
 " Elle claims as relatives, all whom she loves," observed Carry; 
 " and we encourage her in the practice. Miss is formal ; and the 
 absence of any such prefix gives a disrespectful air to a child's 
 address." 
 
 " She speaks of her uncles. Have you brothers ?" 
 
 " She alludes to Mr. Dana's brothers," said Carry, with a 
 slight blush, which Ida remembered afterwards. "They were 
 wards of my father's; and we regard them as a part of the 
 family." 
 
 Ida amused herself by coaxing forth Elle's prattle; and 
 related, as reward for her sociability, a marvellous fairy tale, 
 which expanded her eyes to their utmost circle, and interested 
 even Carry. Mrs. Dana entered at the finale.
 
 ALOE. 51 
 
 " Papa has come, Elle, and would be happy to see Miss Ross. 
 Tea is ready, too. I hope she has not annoyed you," to Ida. 
 
 " Annoyed ! oh no, ma'am ! we are good friends, and have had 
 a nice. talk, have we not, darling?" 
 
 Playing with a child is a very puerile amusement what room 
 is there for the exercise of the reasoning faculties ; what oppor- 
 tunity for gaining new views of the -world or of 'truth? Still 
 Ida was happier, and ^she was silly enough to think, wiser. A 
 germ was set, which should be developed by and by. 
 
 Mr. Dana was in the supper-room. He was tall and dark, 
 grave-looking when silent ; but as he acknowledged the intro- 
 duction to herself, and stooped to kiss Elle, his smile rendered 
 him exceedingly handsome. The proud tenderness of his wife 
 was beautiful to behold ; and he unbent all that was stern in his 
 nature, in her presence, or Carry's. The repast went off delight- 
 fully. There were no sarcastic flings at society and individuals, 
 and clash of combat, imperfectly drowned by courteous phrase- 
 ology, such as characterized similar occasions at Mr. Read's. 
 Free to act and speak, without dread of criticism, Ida acquitted 
 herself well. She and her entertainers were equally charmed ; 
 and Carry sat by, contented with the success of her benevolent 
 efforts. Mr. Dana's business required his attention immediately 
 after supper; Mrs. Dana sat with the girls awhile, then repaired 
 to her nursery. "We shall not be troubled by visitors to-night," 
 said Carry. " What say you to adjourning to our chamber ? It 
 is more snug than these empty parlors." 
 
 They visited the nursery in their way. Elle opened ner eyes 
 as her friend kissed her coral lips, but their lids fell again 
 directly, and her "good night" died in a drowsy murmur. The 
 boy was sleeping soundly, and little Carry lay quietly wakeful 
 upon her mother's lap. " These are my treasures," said the 
 fond parent, smiling at Ida's admiration of the group." 
 
 " Treasures she would not barter for the wealth of both 
 Indies," added Carry. " You are a diplomatist, Ida, you have 
 found sister's blind side by praising her pets." 
 
 " You, who are so accustomed to these pretty playthings, do 
 not know how lovely they are to one who is not so favored," 
 replied Ida. 
 
 "Ah! there you are in error. No one can love the sweet
 
 62 ALONE. 
 
 angels as I do, except the mother who bore them. Now," con- 
 tinued she, when they were in their room, taking from a ward- 
 robe two dressing-gowns, " I move that we don these, and make 
 ourselves comfortable generally." 
 
 And cozily comfortable they appeared, ensconced in arm- 
 chairs, in front of that most sparkling of coal-fires ; a waiter of 
 apples and nuts sent up by thoughtful Mrs. Dana, on a stand 
 between them ; shutters and curtains closed, and the storm 
 roaring and driving without. 
 
 " I no longer wonder at your cheerfulness, since I have seen 
 your home/' said Ida. "All the good things of life are mingled 
 in your cup." 
 
 " You are right. I am very happy, but not more so than hun- 
 dreds of others. My contentment would be grievously marred, 
 if I suspected this was not so." 
 
 " Fraternizing again. I have reflected and observed much 
 since our talk in the cemetery, and am almost persuaded that you 
 have chosen the easiest method of living ; that < where ignorance 
 is bliss, 'tis folly to be wise.' Your system has brought most 
 pleasure thus far, whether it will endure the test of time and 
 experience, is another question." 
 
 " You alarm me," answered Carry. " Your vague hints 
 excite my curiosity, yet do not indicate the description of dan- 
 gers I am to encounter. Let us understand each other as the 
 Methodist class-leaders have it, 'tell our experiences.' " 
 
 " Mine may be briefly summed up," said Ida, sadly. 
 
 ' The frigid and unfeeling thrive the best; 
 And a warm heart in this cold world, is like 
 A beacon light; wasting its feeblo light 
 Upon the wintry deep, that feels it not 
 Trembling with each pitiless blast that blows, 
 'Till its faint firo is spent.' " 
 
 " You have known this ?" asked Carry. 
 
 In all its bitterness !" 
 
 " And the writer felt, or thought he felt the foige of their 
 meaning, when "he penned the lines. Have you ever met with 
 a warm heart besides your own ?" 
 
 " Yes, one the home of excellence and .affection." 
 
 " Then, ' this cold world' has produced three, to whom its 
 biting atmosphere was uncongenial may there not be more?
 
 ALONE. 53 
 
 I look into my bosom, and discover there charity and good-will 
 towards men ; why should I deny the existence of like feelings 
 in those who are partakers of the same nature, in all other 
 respects?" 
 
 " Fair logic j but let us examine facts. Take an example so 
 frequently cited, as to appear hacknied, yet none the less true 
 to nature. Your wealth, or situation, or influence enables you 
 to benefit those who style themselves your friends. You are 
 courted, beloved, popular. A change in these adventitious cir- 
 cumstances alters everything. With unabated desires for love 
 or distinction, you are a clod of the earth, a cumberer of the 
 ground. The stream of adulation flows in another direction; 
 former acquaintances pass you with averted eyes, or chilling 
 recognitions ; you are sought by no new ones. Men do not go 
 to a barren tree, or a dried fountain. You shake your head ; 
 this is not a fancy sketch. Listen to a leaf from my history. 
 Until two years ago I never received a harsh word, or an unlov- 
 ing look. My mother was the benefactress of the poor, for 
 miles around, and I was her almoner. Blessings and smiles 
 hailed me wherever I went. I had no conception of sorrows 
 she could not alleviate ; and I remember thinking foolish child 
 that I was ! that her empire of hearts was worth the glory of an 
 Alexander or Napoleon. She died ! and where are the fruits of 
 her loving kindness? If her memory lives in another breast 
 than that of her only child, I do not know it I" 
 
 There were tears in Carry's eyes, already, and the slight 
 tremor of her speech was grateful music to the orphan's ear. 
 
 " You quitted your home, and all who knew her, and came 
 to a strange city, where it was necessary for you to earn love as 
 she had done. I have no doubt, nay, I am sure, that by the 
 creatures of her bounty, her memory is preserved as a holy 
 thing ; and that they are ready to extend the affection they had 
 for her, to her child. Here, she was comparatively unknown. 
 To carry out your metaphor of the tree, the graft cut from the 
 parent stock must bear fruit for itself. I know the world is 
 generally selfish, but I am convinced that our reprobation of it 
 often arises from the growth of a similar weakness in ourselves. 
 May it not be that the dearth of love, so painfully felt by you, 
 proceeds in part, from the ignorance of your associates as to the 
 5*
 
 64 ALON E. 
 
 real state of your mind, or from an exacting spirit in yourself I 
 Pardon my freedom ; it is meant in kindness." 
 
 " I thank you for your candor. The truth, if unpalatable, 
 cannot offend.' 
 
 " Then, trusting to your forbearance, I will go more into par- 
 ticulars. To curry favor, in school, or elsewhere, is as repugnant 
 to me as to you ; but do we sacrifice self-respect, by swaying 
 to the popular voice, when no abandonment of principle is 
 required? or play the hypocrite, in concealing prejudices and 
 humors that conflict with the sentiments of others ' } in uniting, 
 with apparent willingness, in the common cause ? We cannot 
 like we may help all. I say it in humility there is one rule 
 by which I do not fear to be judged: 'Whatsoever ye would 
 that men should do unto you, do ye even so to them.' ;; 
 
 " I understand your allusions. You think my reserve pro- 
 ceeds from pride alone. What if I were to tell you" and her 
 voice sank, " that haughty as I seem, I would cringe lie in the 
 dust to the most inferior of my daily companions, if she would 
 give me love. Believe me, it is this unquenchable thirst this 
 longing for what is unattainable by me, which has forced me to 
 court its opposite hate ! I will not lay my heart bare to those 
 who would spurn it. It is said, the hind seeks an obscure covert, 
 to die from the wound for which his unhurt comrades would 
 shun him. You cannot know it would be improper for me to 
 recount my fruitless endeavors to win the coveted blessing, at 
 any price, even the loss of the self-respect you imagine I value 
 so highly. It is enough that experiences, such as I hope may 
 never be yours, have taught me to entrench myself in my for- 
 tress of self-confidence, from whence I hurl disdain upon besieg- 
 ing powers. I am thought independent ; the world has made 
 me so. No woman is independent from nature or choice." 
 
 Carry looked musingly in the fire. " I am not certain," she 
 said, that I have a right to repeat what was told me, by one 
 who never thought that you would hear it. I do not see, how- 
 ever, that it can do harm, and I wish to show you, that I am 
 not ignorant of some of your trials. A friend of mine, whose 
 name I am not at liberty to mention, was in F 's paint- 
 ing-rooms on the afternoon of your visit. The artist was an 
 acquaintance, and having letters to write, he ofiered to occupy
 
 ALONE. 55 
 
 his desk while Mr. F should seek recreation. He was an 
 
 auditor of Josephine's Read's garbled story of our church-yard 
 adventure; he had heard a true statement from me. Had my 
 name been used, as it would have been if she had known who 
 your companion was, he would have spoken. As it was, his indig- 
 nation nearly got the better of his prudence. He identified you 
 as the heroine of the tale, by the significant gestures and winks 
 of the ill-mannered party, and commended your equanimity and 
 forbearance." 
 
 " He did not add, that his timely warning suppressed the 
 responsive storm ?" said Ida. 
 
 "Why! did he speak?" 
 
 " No. He only looked, but such a look !" 
 
 Carry laughed. He is a strange mortal ! But to return to 
 yourself. . These exhibitions of depravity and cold-heartedness, 
 are not adapted to raise our estimate of mankind; yet even 
 then, there was one present, who was on the side of right and 
 humanity; who saw no cause for mirth in the sufferings of a 
 child, or the anxieties of two inexperienced girls." 
 
 " Dr. Ballard did, it seems," said Ida, the gloomy look 
 returning. 
 
 " Did Josephine hear of the affair from him ?" 
 
 " I suppose so. Who else knew it ?" 
 
 " True. But is it not more probable that she gave it her 
 own coloring, than, that he made a jest of us? We will lean 
 towards mercy in our judgment." 
 
 " You are a veritable alchemist," said Ida. You would 
 ferret out gold, even in the dross of my character." 
 
 " Try me !" replied Carry. " But bear in mind, nothing is 
 to be secreted; no hard thoughts or jaundiced investigations. 
 All must be cast into the crucible." 
 
 " And tried by what fire ?" inquired Ida. 
 
 " Love 1" said the warm-hearted girl, kneeling beside her, 
 and winding her arms about her waist. Love me, Ida ! and 
 if I prove heartless and deceitful, I will cease to plead for my 
 brothers and sisters." 
 
 The glad tears that impearled her bright locks, replied.
 
 66 ALONE. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 " TEACH me to gain hearts as you do 1" Ida prayed, on the 
 memorable evening of the storm, and Carry answered, blithely, 
 " Love, and live for others !" 
 
 To her, natural disposition and practice made the task easy ; 
 for her pupil, it was arduous beyond her worst expectation. Her 
 reputation was established; the wall she had erected between 
 herself and her associates, was not to be undermined or scaled 
 in a day. Her overtures of familiarity and service was unskil- 
 fully made ; her very timidity construed into labored con- 
 descension. " It is a hopeless endeavor they will never care 
 for me !" said she, despondingly once and again, and Carry 
 still predicted " Love will win love. Persevere !" The birth 
 and growth of their attachment was remarkable. Dissimilar in 
 mind," made more so in manner, by education and circumstances, 
 there existed from the earliest stage of their friendship, perfect 
 confidence in each other's affection. Carry had an infallible 
 perception of genuine worth, hidden though it might be ; and 
 Ida clung drowningly to this last anchor the sole tie that con- 
 nected her with her race. Like most deep feelings, its current 
 was noiseless. They were much together; that was not strange, 
 since their studies were the same. They had separate compart- 
 ments of one desk ; and none marked how often one book was 
 conned by both; brown and fair curls mingling; and hands 
 clasped in mute tenderness. Still less did they dream of the 
 miraculous confluence of the sun-bright stream with the turbid 
 torrent, and the wondrous music of their flow. 
 
 They were sitting thus one forenoon, when an assistant teacher 
 drew near, and inquired if there were a vacant seat in their 
 vicinity. 
 
 " A new scholar !" buzzed from fifty tongues; and the eyea 
 of our two students strayed with the rest, to the door. 
 
 " Miss Pratt, young ladies !" introduced Mr. Purcell. 
 
 The girls arose, in conformance with their custom of recep- 
 tion, and bowed to the figure that followed him into the room.
 
 ALONE. ' 57 
 
 She was short and fat " dumpy/' in vulgar parlance ; and so 
 homely, as to countenance Ellen Morris' report to another 
 department " that the farmers in the neighborhood where she 
 was < riz/ had forwarded a petition, beseeching her to return, 
 their corn having suffered greatly from the depredations of the 
 crows *since her departure; a thing unheard of, previously, in 
 that part of the country." Her eyes were small and grey ; hei 
 nose a ruddy " snub;" her lips curiously puckered up ; and her 
 skin might have owed its dappled red to the drippings of the 
 carroty frizette overshadowing it. Her dress was showy and 
 outr6; a rainbow silk trebly-flounced ; an embroidered lace cape ; 
 white kid gloves ; a gold cable of startling dimensions ; two 
 bracelets of corresponding size, and different patterns ; a brooch 
 that matched neither, and out-glittered both ; while blue, green, 
 and red stones, with heavy settings, loaded the thick fingers to 
 the knuckles. 
 
 Awe of their preceptor in some, good breeding in others, 
 prevented any audible outbreak of amusement ; but what school 
 girl on the gui vive for diversion could keep from smiling ? Mr. 
 Purcell frowned as his eye travelled from one mirthful face to 
 another, but a twinkle from Ellen Morris' dancing orbs neutra- 
 lized the effort j and there was a perceptible twitch of his risible 
 muscle as he rapped for "order." Ida and Carry had not 
 escaped the contagion, an indulgence for which they reproached 
 themselves. 
 
 " Poor girl !" whispered Carry. " She knows no better. She 
 is to be pitied instead of laughed at." > And Ida thought of her 
 loneliness, upon her induction into these strange scenes. "I can 
 lesson her discomfort, and, uninfluenced by prejudice, she will be 
 thankful, perhaps will become fond of me." 
 
 Carry read her resolve in her thoughtful survey of the stran- 
 ger; but while she loved and honoured her for .it, her heart 
 misgave her as she looked more attentively at the object of the 
 purposed charity. Her physiognomy was not more irregular 
 than unpleasant in its expression. She had opened a book, to be 
 in the fashion in this as in every thing else, but her regards were 
 wandering around the room in scared yet unblushing curiosity, 
 flustered at being in a crowd, without a doubt as to her ability 
 to cope with the best of them. Before the exercises of the
 
 58 ALONE. 
 
 forenoon wero concluded, she was summoned to see a visitor, and 
 did not reappear before intermission. Then Ida, having occasion 
 to go into a small room, where bonnets and cloaks were hung, 
 found her standing at the window, crying She wheeled about 
 sharply on hearing a step; her eyes swelled almost out of sight, 
 and her whole appearance frightful in its disorder. 
 
 "What do you want?" she asked, querulously. 
 
 " I did not know you were here," said Ida. " What is the 
 matter ? Are you 'sick ? Can I help you ?" 
 
 " No. My pa's gone away 1" A fresh burst. 
 
 Gone ! where ?" 
 
 " Gone home ! and I don't want to stay in this nasty, mean 
 place. I don't want to go to school no more nowhar !" 
 
 To hint at the obvious propriety of the deprecated measure 
 was a temptation policy bade her resist, and Ida was ' actually 
 nonplussed in casting about in her mind for appropriate consola- 
 tion. 
 
 " You will like us better than you expect," she said, rather 
 awkwardly ; " and your father will come soon to see you again 
 will he not ?" 
 
 " Yes ; he's comin' next week. He is a representative !" 
 mouthing the word magniloquently. 
 
 "A what?" 
 
 " He belongs to the legislator. Lor ! didn't you know that?" 
 
 " No," replied Ida, humbly ; " I am so little conversant with 
 State affairs. You will be glad to have him so near." 
 
 " I don't care much about it ; I want to go home and stay 
 with ma !" beginning to sob. Neither her unpolished manners, 
 nor her accent, combining, as it did, the most vicious of Virginia 
 provincialisms, with the gutturals of the African ; nor her noisy 
 grief, could make Ida forget that she was a home-sick child 
 weeping for her mother ! SJie too had mourned, and " refused 
 to be comforted, because hers was not." Miss Pratt's sorrow, 
 however, was very garrulous. 
 
 " Now, at home," she continued, " I did jest as I pleased ; I 
 lay down most all day. Ma said reading was bad for my head ; 
 and so 'tis; it makes me as stupid as I don't know what; and 
 aint no use besides. I can play on the pianny ; gentlemen don't
 
 ALONE. 59 
 
 care for nothing else when they go to see the ladies. You all 
 don't have no beaux while you're at school, do you ?" 
 
 Ida smiled at this unlocked for query. " We do not have 
 much leisure for amusements," she rejoined. 
 
 " And can't you go to the theatre, and to shows and parties ?" 
 asked Miss Pratt, alarmed. 
 
 "There are no rules on the subject; but it is thought that a 
 young lady is better fitted to go into society, when her mind and 
 manners are formed by time and study." 
 
 " Mine are enough formed, I know/' complacently glancing 
 from her attire to Ida's plain merino, and black silk apron. 
 " How awful ugly all the girls dress ! Aint none of 'em rich ?" 
 
 " I believe so ; but the school-girls here dress simply." 
 
 "/shan't! My pa's able to give me decent clothes, and I 
 mean to have 'em. I don't like Richmond a single bit. Nobody 
 don't take no more notice of me than if [ wan't nobody no 
 better than other folks." 
 
 " You are not acquainted yet. There are some pleasant girls 
 amongst us ; and you will love Mr. Purcell." 
 
 " Is he strict, much ? Does he make you get hard lessons 1" 
 
 " He is very kind and considerate." 
 
 " I despise teachers and books. Thank patience ! I am going 
 to turn out after this session. Ma was married at fifteen, and 
 I'm going on seventeen." 
 
 I am quite seventeen, but I am not tired of books. When 
 I leave school, I shall adopt a regular plan of study and 
 reading." 
 
 " Good gracious ! Why, don't you expect to get married ? 
 What are you going to learn so much for ? I reckon you're 
 going. to teach school." 
 
 "No; I study because I like to do it." 
 
 " Pshaw ! you talk like your teacher was in the room. I 
 don't believe that." 
 
 " The school-bell I" interrupted Ida, happy to be released. 
 
 Miss Pratt hung back. " I don't want to go where all them 
 girls are. Will Mr. What's-his-name be mad if I stay here?" 
 
 " He will probably send for you." 
 
 " Then I might's well go now. I don't care I'm as good ag 
 any of ; em."
 
 60 ALONE. 
 
 " What, and who is she ?" inquired Carry, when school was 
 out. 
 
 " A silly, neglected child," responded her friend. " Shame- 
 fully ignorant, when we consider her father's station. He is a 
 member of the legislature." 
 
 " Ah ! can it be the delegate from A ? I have heard of 
 
 him. He is a clever politician, and an educated man. I am 
 astonished !" 
 
 So were all who made the acquaintance of his daughter. Mr. 
 Pratt had done his best to serve his country and increase his 
 fortune. The rearing of his children was confided to a weak and 
 foolishly fond mother. The only girl was alternately stuffed and 
 dosed, until the modicum of intellectual strength nature might 
 have granted her, was nearly destroyed ; the arable soil exhausted 
 by the rank weed growth. It was just after his election to the 
 House of Eepresentatives, that the father made simultaneously 
 two astounding discoveries that physically, his daughter was 
 no longer a child, and that she was a dunce. He had paid a 
 teacher to superintend her education, and supposed she had done 
 her duty ; whereas, the prudent governess, having little more 
 sense than her pupil, and loving her ease fully as well, had en- 
 joyed her sinecure of a situation with no compunctious visitings 
 of conscience. She acted " according to Mrs. Pratt's instruc- 
 tions." It was a thunderbolt to the feminine trio when the 
 Representative introduced a bill of amendment, paid the soi- 
 disant instructress for the work she had not performed, inform- 
 ing her that her services were at an end ; and ordered the mother 
 to resign her spoiled child to him, " he would see what could be 
 done towards redeeming the time." He carried his point in the 
 teeth of a windy and watery tempest, and " Miss Celestia Pratt" 
 was duly entered on the roll-book of Mr. Purcell's justly cele- 
 brated institution. She soon ceased to complain that she was not 
 noticed. The second day of her attendance she fell in with 
 Ellen Morris and her coterie. By the time the half hour's recess 
 was over, they were enlightened as to her past life, and future 
 aspirations, and supplied with the material of a year's fun-making; 
 while she was reinstated in her self-consequence, and ready to 
 Btrike hands with them in any scheme they chalked out.
 
 ALONE. 61 
 
 It is a shame," said Ida, who, with Carry kept aloof, 
 silent spectators. " Cannot she see what they are doing ?" 
 
 " It will be a severe, but perhaps a salutary lesson," replied 
 Carry. 
 
 " But the poor creature will be the butt of the school." 
 
 " And of the community," said Carry. " I have reasoned 
 with Ellen ; she is not evil disposed, but would compass sea 
 and land for as rich a joke as this promises to be. My influence 
 can effect nothing." 
 
 "What if I warn the girl?" said Ida. Must she pay the 
 penalty of her parent's fault ?" 
 
 " My darling," returned Carry, affectionately, " I am learning 
 prudence from you, and I verily believe I have imparted to you 
 some of my inconsiderateness. What hold have you on this Miss 
 Pratt's confidence? Ellen and her clique are as likely to be in 
 the right as yourself. In her estimation they are more entitled 
 to credence. They play upon the string of self you will utter 
 a distasteful truth. Let her and them alone, except so far as 
 your individual self is concerned. Attract each one to you, and 
 you may be the means of bringing them together." 
 
 Ellen Morris burst into the school-room one morning in a 
 gale of excitement. 
 
 It was early, and none of" the teachers were present, the girls 
 were gathered in knots about the stove and desks. 
 
 Oh girls !" she cried, " I hurried to get here before my angel 
 Celestia. I have the best thing to tell you. You must know 
 she and I were invited, with several others, to take tea at Uncle 
 James' last evening. We had not been there long before aunt 
 said that Mr. Dermott was expected. < I have it/ thought I. I 
 gave Celestia a nudge, { Do you hear that ?' 
 
 "'What?' said she. 
 
 " < The great traveller, Mr. Dermott, is to be here presently. 
 Ain't you glad ?' 
 
 " < Who is he ? I never heard of him.' 
 
 " < Oh Celestia! and you a representative's daughter ! and he 
 
 invited expressly to meet you it is well no one overheard you 
 
 and you have not composed your conversation either ? What 
 
 will you do? He is one of the famous authors you hear so much 
 
 6
 
 62 ALONE. 
 
 of. They will make a statue of him when he dies, like "Wash- 
 ington in the capitol, you know.' 
 
 " ' You don't say so !' 
 
 " ' Yes, and he has seen the seven wonders of the world, and 
 elephants, and rhinoceros, and polypi, and hippopotami, and 
 Dawalageri, and anthropophagi/ 
 
 "' Good gracious!' said she, looking wild, 'You reckon he 
 will speak to me ? do tell me something to say !' 
 
 " ' Could you repeat those names ?' 
 
 t That I couldn't, to save my life !' 
 
 " < Well, let me see, you must be very sober and wise ; 
 only saying 'yes' and 'no/ till he gets to talking of books. 
 Then is the time to show off. Literary people never inquire 
 what you remember in a book, if you say you have read it.' 
 
 " ' Yes,' she struck in, with a grin. ' So when he asks me if 
 I've read them he's talking about, I'm a-going to say 'yes' 
 (you know she is always ' going, going, gone.') ' He aint a-go- 
 ing to catch me, I'll show him !' 
 
 " ' Eight,' said I; ' and question him about two or three, 
 which you name yourself; that will finish the business.' 
 
 " < I don't know none.' 
 
 ' Don't you ? Then I will write off a short list. Keep the 
 paper in your hand; and when he is fairly under way talking, 
 you steal a sly peep at it.' Oh ! it was enrapturing to see how 
 she held on to that slip of paper ! poring over it every five 
 minutes before Mr. Dermott's arrival, and once in two minutes 
 afterwards. She would study it for a second, then her lips would 
 move, until the time for another peep ; she was getting it by 
 heart, staring at him all the while. . By and by he happened to 
 be near her ; and said something about the Panorama. She had 
 been on tiptoe for the last hour, lest her trouble should be thrown 
 away ; and resolved not to lose this opportunity, she spoke out 
 as loudly as addressing a deaf person 
 
 " ' Mr. Dermarclc ! have you ever read Plutarch-es Liv-es, 
 Homer's Eyelids, Dance's Diving Comedy and Campbell's Gra- 
 titude of Wimming ?' I wish you could have seen him !" 
 
 " Ellen ! Ellen !" chorussed twenty voices ; and the crowd 
 rocked in uncontrollable merriment. Carry, and one or two
 
 ALONE. 63 
 
 more were grave ; and an indignant voice said, " How wickedly 
 heartless !" 
 
 There was no mistaking the meaning and emphasis of the 
 interjection. Ellen crimsoned to the roots of her hair. She 
 retorted with a spirit entirely opposite to her usual sportive 
 gaiety. 
 
 " One, whose lowest thoughts soar so far above the common 
 herd, as Miss Ross, cannot be expected to understand a piece of 
 harmless pleasantry." 
 
 Ida had unluckily employed the oft-quoted words, " the com- 
 mon herd of mankind," in a written composition ; and this was 
 not the first time it had been used as an offensive missile. 
 
 " One must stoop low indeed, Miss Morris," was the instant 
 rejoinder, "to see harmless pleasantry in a plot for the disgrace 
 of an unoffending school-mate." 
 
 " Ida! Ellen I" exclaimed Carry, laying her hand upon Ellen's 
 mouth, and stifling her reply. " For my sake, girls if not for 
 your own say no more ! Ida ! what have you to do with this 
 miserable affair ?" 
 
 I have done !" said Ida, bitterly j Defence of right and 
 truth is better left unattempted here !" 
 
 The girls fell back as she crossed to her seat. The sentence 
 sank into every mind ; and the expression of each one showed 
 that she appropriated it. Carry's head dropped upon Ellen's 
 shoulder ; and sullenly vindictive as was the latter, she was not 
 unmoved by the quiver of the slender frame. Mr. Purcell's 
 entrance put an end to the scene. That was a wretched day to 
 more than one heart. Ida's was well-nigh bursting. It mattered 
 not that her prospects of popularity were, for the presen-t, ship- 
 wrecked j that her resolutions of patience and gentleness had 
 broken, like dry straws, at the breeze of passion ; Carry was 
 wounded perhaps offended perhaps estranged ! Still, what 
 have I done ?" whispered pride, " spoken truth, and defended 
 the absent!" But conscience answered "Anger, not justice 
 was the prompter," and again, every feeling merged in one 
 " What will Carry think ?" She did not offer her book as usual 
 did not meet her eye. She would have read no resentment 
 there ; the pale, sad face told of suffering, with no admixture of 
 baser motives. The intermission was dull. Miss Celestia's
 
 64 ALONE. 
 
 extravagant description of " the party," and " the gentlewim" 
 she " was interduced to," hardly excited a smile. A nameless 
 depression was upon all. Ellen, their ringleader in mischief, 
 and Carry, the willing participant in their innocent pleasures, 
 were wanting from their band. They remained at their desks, 
 seemingly engaged in study, until almost school-time, when 
 Carry went around to the other, whispered a word; and they 
 left the apartment together. They returned arm in arm, as Ida, 
 who had gone home in recess, more to be quieted and refreshed 
 by the cool air, than for luncheon, entered from the street. 
 She remarked their affectionate air, and happier faces with 
 goading envy. "Ellen is worth conciliating. It would *be 
 dangerous to break with her. There can be no hesitancy, with 
 the fair words of the crowd in one scale and Ida Ross, unknown 
 and unbeloved, in the other. Be it so !" But awakened affec- 
 tion had had a taste of its proper nutriment, and was not to be 
 famished into silence. The afternoon wore heavily away in the 
 unspoken anguish of love and pride and suspicion. Careless of 
 remarks or conjectures, she declined dinner, and retired at once 
 to her chamber, when she reached home. It might have been 
 one hour ; it might have been three, that she had knelt or laid 
 upon the floor, her head upon a stool, before the mourner for 
 the dead bird ; weeping and thinking, and seeming to grow a 
 year older with each flood of grief; when there came a tap at the 
 door. " Josephine !" was the first thought to spring to the 
 mirror, brush the tumbled hair, and dash rosewater over the 
 discolored cheeks, the work of the next minute ; then she said 
 sleepily" Who is there ?" 
 
 It is I Carry I" 
 
 The bolt was withdrawn, and the intruder lay, sobbing upon 
 her breast. 
 
 0h, Ida ! how could you be angry with me?" 
 
 Ida struggled with the answering drops, but they would come. 
 
 " I thought you had thrown me off, Carry !" 
 
 "You could not after my note." 
 
 " Your note !" 
 
 " I slipped it into your French Grammar, as it lay open before 
 your eyes ; and you shut the book and put it aside, I supposed 
 to read it at your leisure."
 
 ALONE. 65 
 
 I did not see it." 
 
 She went to her satchel, and brought forth the Grammar. 
 There it is I" said Carry, as a folded paper fell from within it. 
 Do not read it. I will tell you its contents. I asked your 
 forgiveness for interrupting you so rudely this morning; but 
 these public disputes lead to so much evil. Ellen was wrong ; 
 she has said so to me ; and is ready to be your friend, if you 
 consent. Her conduct was blameably thoughtless ; and her 
 quick temper could not submit to a rebuke so openly administered. 
 I was abrupt, but it was not because I was angry with, or did 
 not love you. Ellen's taunt was extremely provoking" 
 
 "Stop! stop! Carry! It is I, who should sue for pardon, 
 and excuse, if I can, my unbecoming heat, and after doubts of 
 your friendship. I cannot tell you what a fearful warfare has 
 waged within me ; how much incensed I was to see you and 
 Ellen come in so lovingly, at noon ; how Ishmael-like I felt ; 
 every man's hand against me, and mine against the universe, 
 and Him who made it," she added, with an intonation of awe. 
 " Can you love me after hearing this, Carry ?" 
 
 " Always always 1" 
 
 Ellen was amazed, that afternoon, on being summoned to 
 receive visitors, to find in them her two class-mates, and more 
 astounded to hear from her antagonist of the morning, a frank 
 and graceful apology for her hasty strictures upon her conduct 
 and words. Ellen was, as she phrased it, "great upon high- 
 flown speeches; but this was an extraordinary occasion, and 
 demanded a deviation from ordinary rules; so I condescended, for 
 once, to make use of simple language." 
 
 If simple, it was satisfactory, and they parted most amicably. 
 It was past sunset, when the friends arrived at Mr. Read's door. 
 Ida stood upon the steps, watching Carry, as she tripped away 
 into the dusk. Others would have seen only a pretty girl, with 
 a smile like May sunshine ; to the fond eyes that followed her, 
 she was an angel of love, upon whom nothing of e?il could gaze 
 without adoration and contrition ; and now the light of a new 
 blessing beaming upon her brow the blessing of the peace- 
 maker! 
 
 6*
 
 ALONE 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 SPRING had departed, and the good citizens of Richmond 
 complained as piteously of the heat, as though every zephyr 
 that awoke for miles around, did not sweep over their seven 
 hills freighted with the perfume of gardens and groves, instead 
 of the reeking odors of a thronged city. And in our day, as 
 then, airy, spacious villas are forsaken, while their infatuated 
 denizens hie away to pay $50 per week, for a genteel sty, six 
 feet by ten ; with the privilege of eating such fare, as in the 
 event of its appearance upon their own boards, would find its 
 way back to the place where it was concocted, accompanied by 
 an anathematised warning to the cook ; and of gulping down 
 unwholesomely-copious draughts of a nauseous liquid, which the 
 stomach neither relishes, nor needs. There is dancing "all 
 night, 'till broad day-light," a dusty drive to assist the diges- 
 tion of- a breakfast, one's common sense, no less than the 
 digerent organs assures him is insured against chylifaction ; 
 promenading until dinner, which meal is taken in full dress , 
 another drive, or an enervating siesta, and it is time to. dress for 
 supper ; then dancing again ; and at the end of " the season/' 
 the fashionable votaries return, jaded and debilitated, to home 
 and comfort, and tell you, with a ghastly smile, that they have 
 been ruralizing at the Carburretted, Sulphuretted, Chalybeate 
 Springs." Ruralising at the Springs ! sketching a landscape 
 from an Express train sleeping in a canal-boat reciprocating 
 ideas with a talkative woman ! 
 
 Mr. Read came home to tea, on a sultry July evening, with 
 some crotchet in his brain. That could be seen with half an 
 eye j and Josephine was affable to a distressing degree, to coax 
 the stranger into an earlier incubation, than would occur without 
 artificial warmth. The effects of her Eccolodeon were presently 
 apparent. 
 
 When does your session close, Josey ?" he inquired. 
 < On Friday, sir."
 
 ALONE. 67 
 
 " Then you will be on your head to quit town, like everybody 
 else." 
 
 " I have no solicitude on the subject, sir. I am as indifferent 
 to it, as to many other things people rave about." 
 
 " You are your father's child, cool and hard 1" observed her 
 parent, with a gratified look. 
 
 " But for a novelty, what say you to a trip to Saratoga ?" 
 
 " I should like it, sir, if you accompany me." 
 
 " I have business which takes me in that direction, and I 
 thought, as you are to < come out' next winter, it would sound 
 well to have made your debut at such a fashionable place." 
 
 Josephine smiled ; she could appreciate this argument. The 
 journey was discussed the expenses, dress, appearance, etc. 
 Ida sat by, taciturn and unconsulted. She had a motive iq 
 remaining. Finally, she contrived to throw in a word. 
 
 " I wish to inform you of my arrangements for the summer, 
 sir, if you have time to listen." 
 
 " Yours ! they are the same as ours, of course. Do you 
 imagine that I would -permit my daughter to travel without a 
 female companion, or give her an advantage, you are not to 
 share !" 
 
 The latter clause was so clearly an afterthought, and dove- 
 tailed so oddly with its antecedent, that Ida's smile was almost 
 a sneer. 
 
 " I am sorry, sir, that you are disappointed in your calcula- 
 tions; but as Josephine has a maid, I do not deem my attendance 
 indispensable. If I leave town, I shall go in another direction, 
 unless you positively forbid it." 
 
 " And what place is to be honored by your preference ? May 
 I presume to ask ?" 
 
 I shall go home with Miss Carleton." 
 
 "Ahem ! I comprehend. I should have anticipated this from 
 your overpowering intimacy. You have played your cards badly, 
 Josephine. Why have you not ingratiated yourself with some 
 < divine creature,' who has a rich papa ? It is a capital means 
 of extending one's acquaintance, and sparing one's purse. How 
 long do you intend to sponge to remain, I mean, with your 
 friend, Miss Ross ?" 
 
 " I may not return before Christmas. I hear that the holi-
 
 68 ALONE. 
 
 days are celebrated with much style and festivity, in the 
 country," she replied. 
 
 Mr. Read suppressed something very like an oath, at her 
 calm assurance. 
 
 " When do you go ?" 
 
 " Next Monday. Dr. Carleton is expected daily. Did I under- 
 stand you to say, that you did not object ?" 
 
 " Confound it ! what do I care where, or when you go ?" 
 
 " Oh Carry !" apostrophized Ida, shutting herself in her room. 
 " Even you could not be charitable and forbearing here. It is 
 hard ! hard ! K 
 
 " That is unquestionably the most wrong-headed girl I know," 
 said Mr. Read, to his daughter. 
 
 " I am heartily glad she is not going with us," was the answer, 
 " She would be of no use to me, and an additional care to you." 
 
 " Maybe so, maybe not. Her travelling expenses would not 
 have come out of my pocket ; and there are advantages, some- 
 times, in having two ladies, a larger and better room, and such 
 like ; you pay the same price, and have twice the value of your 
 money. You understand ?" 
 
 " I don't care. I had rather sleep upon a pallet in a loft, by 
 myself, than in the handsomest room in the house, with her for 
 a room-mate. It frets me, though to see her airs ! I wish the 
 law allowed you absolute control." 
 
 " It wont do with her. If she suspected a design on my part 
 to abridge her liberties, or defraud her of her dues, she would as 
 lief enter a complaint against me as not. She has the temper 
 of the Evil One ; and watch as you may, will get the bit between 
 her teeth." 
 
 The carriage was at the door by six o'clock on Monday morn- 
 ing. Ida was ready; but her trunk was strapped on, and her 
 maid seated upon the box with the driver, before she appeared. 
 The truth was, she dreaded to me^it Dr. Carleton. She did not 
 recollect her own father, and had no agreeable associations 
 connected with any who bore that relation to her young 
 acquaintances. She was inclined to look upon the class, as a 
 set of necessary discords in life ; Mr. Read being the key-note. 
 Carry often spoke of her surviving parent with earnest affection ; 
 but Ida attributed this to a charity, that beheld no faults in
 
 ALONE. 69 
 
 those she loved. The thought of her ride and visit would have 
 been unalloyed, but for this idiosyncrasy. " If he were like 
 Mr. Dana !" she said, going slowly down stairs. He was in the 
 porch, with Mr. Read and Carry. " My friend Ida, father," 
 said Carry. He was not like Mr. Dana, better than that ! He 
 was the image of Carry her eyes, mouth and smile his locks, 
 although silvered by years, must in youth have waved in the 
 same golden curls. He was handsome yet, how could he be 
 otherwise ! and had she failed to love him at sight, the unaf- 
 fected geniality of his salutation would have captivated her. 
 She had not a care in the world, as she reclined in the carriage, 
 beside Carry, the revolving wheels bearing her towards the 
 country. Mr. Read and his feminine prototype were sign-posts, 
 marking rough and miry roads she had travelled; they were 
 troubles no more ; she was leaving them behind. 
 
 There had been a thunder-storm in the night, and in that 
 brief fit of passion, nature had wept away every unkind or un- 
 pleasant emotion. The sky wore that rich, soft, transparent hue, 
 which imparts its own pureness to the soul of him, who looks upon 
 it ; smilingly luring it to soar away, and steep itself in the blue 
 of its remembered home;" the forest-leaves glittered with rain- 
 diamonds, and the bird-matin was warbled by a full orchestra. 
 And on, through the slants of sunlight, and the alternations of 
 deep, green shade ; with the old, familiar chirpings in her ear, 
 and the touch of the loved one's hand upon hers, rode the 
 orphan; very quiet, through excess of happiness; afraid to 
 speak or move, lest this should prove a never-to-be realized 
 dream, whose awaking should bring bitter, hopeless yearnings ! 
 
 Little by little, Carry broke up her musings ; and her father 
 seconded her. He was prepared to like his daughter's friend, 
 and there was that in his eye and voice, which made Ida forget, 
 as she had done with Carry, that she was talking with a 
 stranger. ^ 
 
 " That is a fine specimen of your favorite tree, Ida," observed 
 Carry, pointing to a majestic pine, grand and solitary, at the 
 entrance of a grove of oaks. 
 
 And superb it is, in its loneliness I" said Ida. 
 
 " Farmers would cavil at your taste," remarked Dr. Carleton. 
 " < Pine barrens' are proverbial. A thick growth of them is an
 
 70 ALONE 
 
 unmistakeable sign of poverty of soil. Nothing else can extract 
 sustenance from the worn out ground." 
 
 "That is why I like them, sir. There is sublimity in their 
 hardy independence, taking root, as you say, where pampered, or 
 less robust vegetation would perish, and with never-furling 
 banners, stretching up boldly towards the stars." 
 
 " They are emblems to you of what ?" asked the Doctor. 
 
 " Of the few really great ones, who have demonstrated that 
 human nature is not of necessity, vile or imbecile, or yet a 
 debtor to accident, for its spice of good." 
 
 "The gifted, or the fortunate ?" 
 
 " The resolute, sir. They, who have riven the shackles of 
 low birth or poverty, and made for themselves a glorious name 
 out of nothing ! have done it by the naked force of will. 
 Call it < talent' or ' genius/ if you choose ; upon analyzation, 
 you will resolve it into this one element of character." 
 
 " It is a sorry task to pick flaws in your beautiful analogy," 
 said the old gentleman. " You may not be aware that your 
 pine, sturdy as it appears, is less fitted than any other tree, for 
 standing alone ; its roots running out laterally from the trunk ; 
 and lying near the surface of the earth. Cut down the outer 
 row which have kept off the tempests, and helped to support 
 him, and the first hard wind is apt to lay him low." 
 
 " And so there are fates, against which the mightiest of 
 mortal energies are powerless. Leave the pine unprotected, and 
 if it survive one blast, it strikes its roots deeper and deeper into 
 the ground, until it has strength to brave an hundred winters. 
 Adversity, if it does not kill strengthens." 
 
 " Do you favor the philosophy, which teaches that a certain 
 amount of trouble is necessary for the complete development 
 of character?" 
 
 " Whether necessary or not it comes. That is not a matter 
 of hypothesis ; but I have seen some, who, I did not think, 
 required discipline ; and many more, who wanted softening, 
 instead of hardening." 
 
 " Is hardening the legitimate effect of sorrow ?" asked he, more 
 gravely. " When the chastening is guided by love, does it not 
 melt and refine ? Are strength and hardness synonymous ?" 
 
 I question the difference, sir, as the world goes."
 
 ALONE. 73 
 
 " Instead of referring to < the world/ in an abstract sense- 
 judge we of the influence of trials, by what we know of our- 
 selves. I never tasted .real happiness, until I learned to bear 
 grief, by submitting to the will of Providence." 
 
 " And one affliction has embittered life for me !" returned Ida, 
 gloomily. 
 
 " Poor child !" then recollecting himself, he addressed Carry in 
 a jesting tone. "And you Miss Carry what is your vote 
 upon, this important question ?" 
 
 "I have had no trouble, sir," replied she, lightly, "except 
 school-quarrels. You would not class them in the category of 
 tribulations." 
 
 There was sadness in her father's look of love, as he answered, 
 " I hope you may long be able to say so, dear !" 
 
 Carry brushed away the mist from her lashes. " ' A consum- 
 mation devoutly to be desired,' as Charley, or Shakspeare 
 would say. Where is he, father ?" 
 
 " Who ? Shakspeare or Charley ?" 
 
 " The latter, of course. ' Apart from his probable location 
 being more easily decided upon, he is, to me, the more interest- 
 ing of the two/ 
 
 "He is somewhere in the "Western part of the State; 
 travelling, partly for pleasure. Johu told you, that they have com- 
 mitted the New York branch of the business to Mr. E , 
 
 and that Charley will in future reside in Kichmond." 
 
 "Yes, sir. I was glad to hear it; I understood, however, that 
 this change would not be made before Fall. In the interim, are 
 not we to be favoured with his company ?" 
 
 " I trust so. It will seem like old times for us all to be 
 together again." 
 
 " I hope he will come while you are with us, Ida," said Carry. 
 " I am so anxious you should know him !" 
 
 "You have seen him, surely, Miss Ida ?" said Dr. Carleton. 
 
 " I have not yet had that pleasure, sir." 
 
 " He is an original worth studying." 
 
 " I can credit that. Elle's panegyrics would have created a 
 desire to see this nonpareil of an < Uncle Charley/ and Carry has 
 raised my curiosity to the highest pitch, by naming him as the 
 successful rival of Shakspeare."
 
 72 ALONE. 
 
 " Oh I" cried Carry, laughing. " I said more interesting to 
 me. Charley is one of my pets; and I am afraid I have 
 presented you with an erroneously flattered picture of him. You 
 must not look for an < Admirable Crichton.' He is not one to 
 please the fancy on a slight acquaintance." 
 
 " Is he as handsome as his brother ?" 
 
 " Which brother ?" inquired the Doctor ; and Carry blushed. 
 
 I have met but one," said Ida. "I consider Mr. John 
 Dana very fine-looking." 
 
 I will repeat Charley's ideas of what he styles, his < personal 
 pulchritude/ " responded Carry. " He says he thanks Heaven 
 he is not handsome. To endow him with a moderate share of 
 beauty, some one would have been deprived of his, or her good 
 looks. No broken hearts are laid at the door of his conscience." 
 < Yes' concluded he, triumphantly < A man ought to be grate- 
 ful for ugliness ; and I am persuaded that not many have as much 
 cause to rejoice on that score as myself!' " 
 
 " He is not homely," said her father, warmly. 
 
 " Ah father ! other people tell a different story." 
 
 " That may be ; but where you find one handsomer face than 
 his, you see a thousand destitute of its intelligence and agreeable- 
 ness." 
 
 " Granted. Homely or not, I prefer him to any doll-faced 
 dandy of my acquaintance." 
 
 " He is fortunate in his advocates/' said Ida. " He has the 
 art of making friends." 
 
 "Because he is such a firm friend himself," replied Carry. 
 " Yet some will have it that he is frivolous and unfeeling. The 
 only satirical remark I was ever gnilty of, was extorted by an asper- 
 sion of this kind. A lady was offended by a playful bagatelle 
 of his ; and thinking that I would be a sure medium of com- 
 municating her wrath to its object, criticised him unsparingly. 
 She ridiculed his person and manners; I said nothing. She 
 said he was bankrupt in chivalry and politeness. . I smiled ; and 
 she blazed out a philippic against his < disgusting levity and 
 nonsense he had not a spark of feeling, or grain of sense 
 intelligent indeed ! for her part she had never heard him say a 
 smart or sensible thing yet.' I put in my oar here < You will 
 then alloW'him one talent, at least; the ability to adapt his
 
 A L X E . 73 
 
 conversation to the company he is in.' I repented having said 
 it , but it quieted her." 
 
 " You did not reproach yourself for taking the part of your 
 friend !" 
 
 "No, out I might have done it in a less objectionable manner. 
 It did not alter her feelings to him, and caused her to dislike 
 me." 
 
 " How is it, sir, that I hear so much more of this one of your 
 former wards, than of his younger brother ?" said Ida to the 
 Doctor. 
 
 The question was innocently propounded, and for an instant, 
 she was puzzled by the quizzical demureness, with which he 
 glanced at his daughter. 
 
 " This is a serious charge, Carry. Your predilection for one 
 old play-fellow should not make you forgetful of another." 
 
 She was looking down, touching the shining tire of the wheel 
 with the tip of her gloved finger. The truth beamed upon Ida; 
 and with it a thousand little circumstances she had been blindly 
 stupid not to understand before. Her intelligent eye said the 
 mystery was explained, but she forbore to say so in words. Dr. 
 Carleton went on in a changed tone. 
 
 " Arthur is not a whit behind his brothers in sterling worth, 
 or personal graces. He is associated with me in the practice of 
 medicine, and unites a skill and prudence, rarely found in one so 
 young. He is popular, and deservedly so." 
 
 Carry bestowed a grateful smile upon him, and was answered 
 in the same mute language. In such desultory chat, the sunny 
 hours ran out. They travelled well ; only stopping an hour to 
 dine and rest; yet twilight saw them eight miles from their des- 
 tination. Each was disposed to silence, as the light grew dim- 
 mer j and when the moon smiled at them above the tree-tops, 
 she elicited but a single observation of her beauty. The road 
 was lonely and sheltered; bordered by forests on one side, and 
 thicket-grown banks on the other ; the soil sandy and heavy ; 
 the tramp of hoofs scarcely heard, and the wheels rolling with a 
 low, crushing sound, that, to Ida, was not unmusical. Silver 
 willows, and twisting < bamboo ' Mines, and the long-leaved 
 Typha Latifolia edged the road , and she watched through the 
 openings in the woven screen, for a glimpse of the stream that
 
 74 ALONE. 
 
 watered their roots; sometimes deceived by the shimmer of the 
 moon upon the leaves; sometimes, by the white sands, until she 
 doubted whether there was indeed one there ; when the gurgling 
 of falling waters betrayed the modest brooklet, and it widened 
 into a pretty pool; the moon's silver shield upon its bosom. 
 The thicket became taller, and not so dense ; tulip trees and oaks 
 in place of the aquatic undergrowth; and between them the 
 fleeting glimmerings of the sky were, to her, an army of pale 
 spectres, marching noiselessly past ; no halting or wavering ; on, 
 on, in unbroken cavalcade, " down to the dead." And memory, 
 at fancy's call, produced the long roll of those who had gone to 
 the world of shades; the master-spirits of -all ages; the 
 oppressed and the oppressor ; the lovely and the loved ; had 
 joined that phantom procession ; how few leaving even the 
 legacy of a name to earth ! With the Persian Poet, her heart 
 cried out Where are they ?" and echo answered " Where 
 are they ?" And thought poured on thought, under the weird 
 influence of that enchanted night, until the shadowy host was the 
 one reality in the landscape ; and one and another beckoned and 
 waved to her, as they defiled by. She came near shrieking so 
 startled was she as a horseman reined up at the window. The 
 moon was at his back ; but showed every lineament of her coun- 
 tenance. He raised his hat. " Miss Ross, I believe. I fear my 
 sudden appearance has alarmed you." 
 
 "Arthur! my boy ! how are you?" exclaimed Dr. Carleton, 
 extending his hand, which was as eagerly seized. Miss Eoss 
 Dr. Dana." 
 
 " Miss Eoss will excuse me for having anticipated the intro- 
 duction," said he, bowing again, and rode to the opposite side of 
 the carriage. The greetings there were more quiet; but it 
 needed not Ida's delicate ear to detect the feeling in the voices 
 which tried to say common-place things. Arthur had much to 
 pay to the doctor, and once in a while a remark for her Carry 
 remaining in the back-ground. 
 
 " Were you uneasy that we did not arrive ?" asked Dr. 
 Carleton. 
 
 "Not uneasy but restless; and to relieve my impatience 
 rode out to meet you." 
 
 He was first on this side now on that as the highway
 
 ALONE. 75 
 
 afforded him room ; but Ida could not get a view of his face. 
 His figure was good, and he sat his horse well ; upon these 
 facts, and such impressions as were made by a pleasant voice and 
 gentlemanly address, she was obliged to form her opinion of his 
 personal appearance, until more light should be shed upon the 
 subject. The house appeared, approached by a shady lane, and 
 so embowered in trees, that only the chimneys were visible from 
 the main road. Carry's tongue was unloosed as she bounded 
 into the midst of the sable throng that swarmed about the car- 
 riage. Arthur exclaimed merrily at the clamor of blessings and 
 inquiries. 
 
 " Will you accept me as your attendant, Miss Koss ? The 
 ceremony of reception will last some time " 
 
 But Carry was in the piazza as soon as they were. 
 
 " Thank you, Arthur, for taking charge of her. Welcome to 
 Poplar-grove, dear Ida ! May you be as happy here as I have 
 been!" 
 
 " Amen \" said Dr. Carleton and Arthur, heartily. 
 
 Carry acted like a wild creature all the evening. She half- 
 carried Ida to her chamber, and kissed her over and over. 
 
 " Now, darling !" she ran on, strewing their shawls and bon 
 nets in all directions. " You see I have no idea of putting you 
 off, company style, in another room. You will be with me morn- 
 ing, noon, and night. My dear, dear room ! how natural it looks ' 
 and to think I am never to leave it again !" 
 
 " Bless your heart !" said a middle-aged mulatto woman, whose 
 mild and pleasing face struck Ida as much as her motherly kind- 
 ness to her young mistress, " You are not half so glad to get back 
 as we are to have you here." 
 
 " Hush, Mammy ! you will make me cry. Comb my hair 
 will you ? Not that I do not believe you could do it, Sally ; but 
 it used to be Mammy's work." 
 
 Thoughtful of others still," reflected Ida, as the girl Sally 
 displayed a double row of ivories, at Carry's apology. " Can 
 nothing make her selfish ?" 
 
 " We wont't waste time by an elaborate toilet, dear," said 
 Carry, seeing Ida deliberating upon two dresses. " Father will 
 be too much engaged with his supper to notice our dress. Wear 
 the plain white one ; it is very becoming ; and remember, you 
 are in the back-woods."
 
 76 ALONE. 
 
 Arthur was in the parlor when they descended. He looked 
 as happy as Carry, and " almost as good," thought Ida. She 
 was not de trop ; it might have been a brother and sister who 
 strove to convince her that this, their home, was hers for the 
 time-being. The supper-table was set with taste and profusion. 
 Ida wondered whether the menage were entirely controlled by 
 coloured servants. She learned afterwards that "Mammy," 
 trained by Mrs. Carleton, and until that lady's death, her con- 
 stant attendant, was housekeeper. 
 
 " You have not much affection for a city life, Miss Ida/' said 
 Arthur, continuing a conversation commenced in the parlor. 
 
 " No. I am country-bred, and cherish a preference for the 
 scenes of my childhood. Perhaps," she said, ingenuously, " the 
 fault is in myself. I did not want to live in Richmond, and 
 determined not to like it." 
 
 " And are your aversions so strong that the manifold attrac- 
 tions of the metropolis cannot shake them? or, are you countrified 
 upon principle ?" 
 
 " I have not given the city a fair trial. It has occurred to 
 me lately that my weariness of it proceeded from monotony 
 rather than satiety. There is little variety in school life." 
 
 " Except when we regard it as the world in miniature," said 
 Arthur. It is different, doubtless, in ' Young Lady Establish- 
 ments/ but we boys contrived to maintain a healthy circulation, 
 one way or another." 
 
 " Is it not a popular fallacy that school-days are the happiest 
 of one's life ?" asked Ida. 
 
 " Unquestionably," rejoined he, promptly. "As well say that 
 Spring is the farmer's happiest season. He has the pleasures 
 of hope, the delight of viewing his whitening harvests in 
 future; but there is severe, unromantic drudgery; suspense and 
 boding fears for the result. The ' harvest home' for me ! 
 
 " And when is that !" questioned Ida. 
 
 " Now !" said he, with emphasis. 
 
 11 What do you mean ?" inquired Carry. 
 
 " That you and Miss Ida begin to reap from this date. To 
 dispense with this inconvenient metaphor, your acticns will be 
 the proof of what your lessons have been ; every day your 
 knowledge and principles will be brought into play, you will 
 be binding up sheaves of worthy or of evil deeds."
 
 ALONE. 7T 
 
 " You are trying to terrify us," said Carry. " Don't you wish 
 yourself at school again, Ida ?" 
 
 " Are you sorry you're a-goin' to turn out ?" replied Ida, in a 
 peculiar tone. 
 
 " Oh, Celestia !" exclaimed Carry, with a hurst of laughter. 
 Who ? what ?" said her father. 
 
 " One of our school-mates, father ; who, hearing another say 
 that she was sorry to quit school, went through the house the 
 day we were dismissed, asking each one confidentially, { Are you 
 sorry you're a-goin to turn out ?' grief at such an event being, 
 in her code, a more heinous sin than to dance at a funeral." 
 1 Who was she ?" asked Arthur. 
 ' Miss Pratt Celestia Pratt." 
 
 Daughter of the member from A ?" 
 
 The same what do you know of her ?" 
 1 I met her once at a ball," he replied. 
 ' Were you introduced ?" cried both girls in a breath. 
 < Yes ; and danced with her." 
 
 Enough 1" said Carry. " We will not pursue the subject." 
 " As you please," he returned; "but 'if I am not mistaken, as 
 Sir Roger says, though with a different meaning, < much could 
 be said on both sides.' " 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 POPLAR-GROVE was comparatively a modern place; having 
 been built by the present proprietor at the time of his marriage. 
 The house was of brick, large and commodious ; and flanked by 
 neat out-houses and servants' quarters, presenting an imposing 
 appearance, an, air of lordly beauty. The shade trees were 
 forest-born; the maple, oak, beech, and fairest of all, the tulip- 
 poplar. Excepting in the green-house, on the south side of the 
 mansion, and a rose-creeper that climbed upon the piazza, not a 
 flower was tolerated within the spacious yard, and the sward was 
 always green and smooth. Dr. Carleton's seat was the pride and 
 envy of the country. " No wonder," growled the croakers; " a
 
 78 ALONE. 
 
 man with a plenty of money can afford to be comfortable." They 
 lived in barn-like structures, treeless andyardless; (and who that 
 has travelled in our commonwealth, but knows the heart-sicken- 
 ing aspect of these out-of-door habitations?) raising vegetables, 
 because they must be had to eat; planting orchards, and suffer- 
 ing them to dwindle and pine, for want of attention ; and exist- 
 ing themselves after the same shambling style, because they 
 " had it to do ;" content to " get along," and not feeling the 
 need of anything higher, until the buried not dead sense of 
 the beautiful was exhumed by the sight of the work of taste and 
 industry; and the stupid stare waa succeeded by jealous repin- 
 ings, and the writing down of a long score against Providence. 
 " I tell you what, my friend," the doctor said to one of these 
 murmurers, " instead of harping so much upon one P, try my 
 three, and my word for it, your wishes will be fulfilled sooner 
 by fifty years they are, Planting, Perseverance and Paint." 
 
 In the garden, beauty and utility joined hands, and danced 
 together down the walks. There were squares of thrifty vegeta- 
 bles, deserving a home in the visioned Eden of an ambitious 
 horticulturist ; and the banished floral treasures here expanded 
 in every variety of hue and fragrance. There grew hedges of 
 roses, and the dwarf lilac, and the jessamine family, the star, 
 the Catalonian, the white and yellow, thatching one arbor ; 
 while the odorous Florida, the coral, and the more common but 
 dearer English honeysuckles wreathed their lithe tendrils over 
 another; and ever-blowing wall-flowers, humble and sweet, gaudy 
 beds of carnations, and brightly-smiling coreopsis, and pure lilies 
 with their fragrant hearts powdered with golden dust a witch- 
 ing wilderness of delights. Trellises, burdened with ripening 
 grapes, were the boundary line between' the 'garden and the 
 orchard. The same just sense of order and well-being regulated 
 the whole plantation. Kindness was the main-spring of the 
 machinery, but 'it was a kindness that knew how to punish as 
 well as reward. ' 
 
 Do you believe in the unity of the human race?" asked Ida, 
 one evening, as she and Carry were taking their twilight prome- 
 nade in the long parlor. 
 
 "Assuredly; but what put that into your head just now ?" 
 
 " I was thinking of your father ; and trying to realize that he
 
 ALONE. 79 
 
 belongs to the same species with others I could name. I am 
 compelled to the conclusion that he is an appendix^ a later crea- 
 tion, a type of what man would have been had he not < sought 
 out many inventions.' " 
 
 " And what new instance of his immaculateness has induced 
 this sapient belief?" 
 
 " I was sitting at the window this afternoon, before he went 
 out, when I heard him call to little Dick to bring his saddle- 
 bags from 'the office/ The boy scampered off, and presently 
 appeared running, still holding the precious load with great care 
 in both hands. ' Steady, my lad/ said your father, and as the 
 warning passed his lips, Dick tripped his foot, and came down 
 the saddle-bags under him. He cried loudly, and your father 
 ran to pick him up what do you suppose he said ?" 
 
 " Inquired if he was hurt, of course." 
 
 "He did but reflect! every phial was smashed, and that is 
 no trifle this far from the city, I take it. Yes he set the little 
 chap upon his feet, and asked after the integrity of his bones j 
 and when he sobbed, ' I aint hurt, sir but de bottles dey's 
 all broke !' patted him upon the head, and bade him ' stop crying 
 master isn't angry you won't run so fast next time,' and let 
 him go. Then, kneeling upon the grass, he unlocked the 
 portable apothecary-shop, and pulled out gallipots and packages, 
 fractured and stained in every imaginable shape and manner 
 looking seriously perplexed. * This is an awkward business,' 
 he said, aloud ; < and my stock is so nearly out ! but accidents 
 will happen.' " 
 
 "And is that all ?" said Carry. 
 
 " ' All 1' I have seen men affect forbearance, and talk largely 
 of forgiveness, when they wanted to ' show off,' but he did not 
 know that I was within hearing. Some other principle was at 
 work. I wonder," she said, with a short laugh, "what my 
 esteemed guardian would have said upon the occasion ! He 
 punishes a menial more severely for an accident, or thoughtless- 
 ness, than for deliberate villany." 
 
 " I do not pretend to uphold Mr. Read's doctrines or practice. 
 I am afraid he is thoroughly selfish, and Josephine is too close 
 a copy of him to suit my fancy but why think or speak ot 
 them? Did vou not nrnmise to sec life through my spectacles
 
 80 . ALONE. 
 
 awhile ? There is a hard look in your eye, and a scorn in your 
 tone, when you refer to them, that repel me. It is so unlike 
 you !" 
 
 " So like me, Carry ! My character is velvet or fur stroKe it 
 in one direction, and you enhance whatever of beauty or gloss it 
 possesses ; reverse the motion, and you encounter rough prickles, 
 and in certain states of the atmosphere, more electricity than is 
 agreeable or safe. I am not changed. The hand of affection is 
 gliding over me now ; you may do what you will with me." 
 
 " But you are happier than you used to be ?" 
 
 " I am happier in you ! Do you recollect the stormy 
 November evening when you < took me in ?' Cold, and wet, 
 and shivering as was the body, the heart stood more in need of 
 comfort; and you warmed it taught me that woman is woman 
 still brow-beaten, insulted, crushed ! The poor, soiled flowerets 
 of love will smile, despite of all in the face of him, or her 
 whose pitying hand lifts them up. Carry ! you do not know 
 what depends upon your fidelity ! Have you not read in that 
 most wondrous of books, how the evil spirit returned to the 
 house, which, in his absence, was swept and garnished, and that 
 the latter end of that man was worse than the first?" 
 
 " Ida ! my own friend ! how can you hint such frightful 
 things ? I do love you very dearly ? You cannot doubt me." 
 
 " Not now. But will the time never come, when other claims 
 will dispossess me of my place ? Do not despise me, darling ! 
 Do not impute to me the meanness of being envious of your 
 happiness. I rejoice with, and am proud for you proud of your 
 choice. He is all that a man should be let me say it I have 
 never told you so before; but is it true love expels friendship? 
 You will be as dear to me married as single ; why should your 
 affection decrease ?" 
 
 It will not !" Could it be the modest Carry who spoke ? 
 "Judge for yourself. Arthur and I have loved from childhood. 
 He spoke to me of his hopes two years ago, but father exacted 
 from us a promise that no love but that of brother and sister 
 should be named between us until my school-days were at an 
 end. Yet I knew that I was not a sister to him ; and, to me, 
 he was more than the world besides : and with this sweet con- 
 sciousness singing its song of hope and blessedness within my
 
 ALONE. 81 
 
 heart, I found room for you ; and lover and friend were eaci 
 the dearer for the other's company. You will understand this 
 some day, dear Ida. You are made tc be loved you cannol 
 exist without it, and you will achieve your destiny." 
 
 " That love is to be my redemption, Carry. In the uppei 
 region of the air there is eternal calm and sunshine, while the 
 clouds brood and crash below. Such calm and light shall my 
 love win for me. I have dwelt for years in the black, noisome 
 vapors I am rising now ! Is it not Jean Paul who says 
 1 Love may slumber in a young maiden's heart, but he always 
 dreams !' I have had dreams day visions, more transporting 
 than any the night bestows. I have dreamed that my wayward* 3 , 
 will bent, in glad humility, to a stronger and wiser mind ; \ 
 that my eye fell beneath the fondness of one that quailed at 
 nothing; that I leaned my tired head upon a bosom, whose every 
 throb was to me an earnest of his abiding truth ; and drank in 
 the music of a voice, whose sweetest accent was the low whisper 
 that called me 'his own!' 'These are not chance vagaries; they 
 have been the food of my heart for long and dreary months ; 
 angel-voices about my pillow my companions in the still twi- 
 light hour summoned by pleasure or pain, to sympathise and 
 console. Then my breast is a temple, consecrated to an ideal, 
 but none the less fervent in the devotion offered therein ; the 
 hoarded riches of a lifetime are heaped upon his shrine. I have 
 imagined him high in the world's opinion ; doing his part nobly 
 in the strife of life; and I, unawed by the laurel-crown 
 unheeding it say, < Love me only love me !' I love to fancy, 
 and feel him present, and sing to him the strains which gush 
 from my soul at his coming. This is one." 
 
 She left Carry's side. A lightly-played prelude floated through 
 the darkening room, then a recitative, of which the words and 
 music seemed alike born out of the impulse of the hour : 
 
 Thy heart is like the billowy tide 
 
 Of some impetuous river, 
 That mighty in its power and pride, 
 
 Sweeps on and on forever. 
 The white foam is its battle crest, 
 
 As to the charge it rushes 
 And from its vast and panting breast, 
 
 A stormy shout up gushes.
 
 82 ALONE. 
 
 Through all o'er all my way I cleave 
 
 Each barrier down-bearing 
 1'atne is the guerdon of the brave, 
 
 And victory of the daring !" 
 While mine is like the brooklet's flow, 
 
 Through peaceful valley's gliding ; 
 O'er which the willow boughs bend low 
 
 The tiny wavelet hiding. 
 
 And as it steals on, calm and clear, 
 
 A little song 'tis singing, 
 That vibrates soft upon the ear, 
 
 Like fairy vespers ringing. 
 " Love me love me !" it murmurs o'er f 
 
 'Midst light and shadows ranging, 
 " Love me," it gurgles evermore, 
 
 The burden never changing. 
 
 Thine is the eagle's lofty flight, 
 
 With ardent hope, aspiring 
 E'en to the flaming source of light, 
 
 Undoubting and untiring. 
 Glory, with gorgeous sunbeam, throws 
 
 An Iris mantle o'er thee 
 A radiant present round thee glows 
 
 Deathless renown before thee. 
 
 And I, like a shy, timid dove, 
 
 That shuns noon's fervid beaming, 
 And far within the silent grove, 
 
 Sits, lost in loving dreaming 
 Turn, half in joy, and half in fear, 
 
 From thine ambitious soaring, 
 And seek to hide me from the glare, 
 
 That o'er thy track is pouring. 
 
 I cannot echo back the notes 
 
 Of triumph thou art pealing, 
 But from my woman's heart there floats 
 
 The music of one feeling, 
 One single, longing, pleading moan, 
 
 Whose voice I cannot smother 
 "Love me love me!" its song alone, 
 
 And it will learn no other ! 
 
 There was a long stillness. Carry was weeping silently. She 
 was a novice to the world, and believed that many were guileless 
 and loving as herself; but she felt, as she listened to this enthu 
 siastic outflow from ice-girt depths, unfathomable to her, unsus- 
 pected by others, that terrible woe was in reserve for the heart 
 so suddenly unveiled. There was, about Ida, when her real 
 character came into action, an earnestness of passion and senti- 
 ment that forbade the utterance of trite counsels or cautions ;
 
 ALONE. 83 
 
 the tide would have its way, and one must abide its ebb in 
 patience. Her first words .showed that it had retired. 
 
 " I appear strangely fitful to your gentle little self, dear one. 
 It is seldom that I yield to these humours. You have pierced 
 to the bottom of my heart to-night;" linking her arm again in 
 Carry's. " Forget my vehemence, and believe me if you will, 
 the iceberg people say I am." 
 
 " Never ! oh, Ida ! Why do yourself such injustice? Why 
 not let your friends know that you have feeling ? They would 
 love you but the more." 
 
 " Do not believe it. I should be sent to the Insane Hospital. 
 Hearts are at a discount in the market just now, and hypocrisy 
 above par." 
 
 " There you go !" exclaimed Carry. " One moment all soft- 
 ness the next, an ocean is between us. Contradictory enigma ! 
 If I loved you less, I should be angry. You read every leaf of 
 my heart as easily as you unfold a newspaper; and just as I 
 fancy that I have the key to yours, it is shut close a casket, 
 whose spring I cannot find." 
 
 " Or like an oyster," said Ida. Apropos de bottes here 
 come the candles, harbingers of supper, and I hear our brace of 
 Esculapii, upon the porch, ready to discuss it." 
 
 Carry asked herself if it could be the impassioned improvisa- 
 trice, who charmed her father and Arthur into forgetfulness of 
 professional anxieties, and the attractions of the inviting board, 
 by her brilliant play of wit, sparkling and pleasant as foam upon 
 champagne, without its evanescence. The gentlemen admired 
 and liked her. That they unconsciously identified her with 
 Carry, may have accounted for this, in part, but most was owing 
 to her powers of pleasing. An inquiry, made with extreme 
 gravity, as to the number and welfare of their patients, was the 
 preface to a burlesque sketch of the saddle-bag scene; in which, 
 not a hint of the reflections it inspired, escaped her ; and when 
 she described the doctor's rueful countenance, as he held tip the 
 neck and stopple of a large phial, saying dolefully, " The Calo- 
 mel too, and three cases of fever on hand !' Arthur resigned 
 knife and fork, in despair of eating another mouthful, and Dr. 
 Carleton drew out his Bandanna to wipe off the coursing tears. 
 
 Hist," said Ida, her finger uplifted, some one is coming !"
 
 84 ALONE. 
 
 The roll of an approaching vehicle was plainly heard ; the coach- 
 man's sharp " Whoa I" followed by a cheer, in sound like a view- 
 hallo, but it said, " Ship ahoy !" 
 
 " Charley ! Charley !" screamed Carry, upsetting the tea-urn 
 on her way to the door, pursued by Arthur and Dr. Carleton. 
 Ida went as far as the porch. She heard Mrs. John Dana's 
 voice, then her husband's; and Elle's incoherent response to the 
 efforts made to awaken her; but the stranger was chief spokes- 
 man. " Look after your wife and the baggage, John ; I will 
 disembark the lighter freight. Elle ! Elle ! don't you want to 
 see Aladdin's lamp ? Aha ! well, here is something prettier 
 Aunt Carry, and a nice supper. Charley' you monkey! wide 
 awake as usual ! Feel if you have your own head, my boy ! 
 People are apt to make mistakes in the dark. Give me that 
 small-sized bundle, Jenny you'll lose it in the weeds, and then 
 there will be the mischief to pay. One, two, three, all right !" 
 And with the " small-sized bundle" in his arms, he marched up 
 the walk, Carry scolding and laughing. 
 
 " Charley ! you are too bad ! give her to me a pretty figure 
 you are, playing nurse !" 
 
 " He has carried her, or Elle, before him, on the horse, all 
 the way !" said Mrs. Dana. " Ida, my love, how do you do ?" 
 warmly kissing her." John Dana shook hands with her, and 
 Elle cried, " Cousin Ida ! you here at grandpa's !" 
 
 Charley gave a comic glance at his burden, when he was pre- 
 sented ; but his bow was respectful, and as graceful as the case 
 admitted. Ida hardly saw him until the second supper was 
 served ; Carry insisting that she should occupy her accustomed 
 seat, and go through the form of eating. Elle petitioned for a 
 chair by her, and th'e three brothers were together on the opposite 
 side of the table. They were an interesting study. John, 
 with his strong, dark, yet singularly pleasing physiognomy, was 
 the handsomest ; but his precedence in age, and perhaps rougher 
 experiences in life, had imparted an air of command, which, while 
 it became him well, deterred one from familiarity. Charley wa;i 
 so unlike him, that the supposition of their being of the same 
 lineage, seemed absurd. His hair and complexion were many 
 shades lighter, and the features cast in a different mould, his 
 eyes the -only fine ones in the set. He was not so tall, by half a
 
 ALONE. 85 
 
 head, and more slightly built. Arthur was the connecting link ; 
 with John's height, and Charley's figure ; the perfect mouth and 
 teeth of one ; the brown eyes of the other ; and hair and skin a 
 juste milieu between the two. Ida's attention was most frequently 
 directed to the new-comer. She thought him more homely than 
 his brothers ; and it certainly was not a family resemblance that 
 troubled her with the notion, that she had seen him somewhere 
 not very long ago when, she could not say except that his 
 expression was not the same as now. Heedless of her observa- 
 tion, he rattled on j doing ample justice to the edibles, in some 
 unaccountable manner ; his gastronomical and vocal apparatus 
 never interfering ; yet withal, he was an excellent listener ; and 
 allowed the rest of the party to say whatever they wished. " He 
 would be worth his weight in gold to a comic almanac-maker," 
 thought Ida, as he dashed off caricature and anecdote, conveying 
 a character in an epithet, and setting the table in a roar, by a 
 grimace or inflection. His pictures, however, were coloured by 
 his gay mood ; there were no frowning portraits, and their smiles 
 were all broad grins. 
 
 " You have not learned to love buttermilk, yet, Charley ?" 
 said Carry, as John called for a second tumbler of the cooling 
 beverage. 
 
 " Can't say that I have. Did I write you an account of my 
 begging expedition ?" 
 
 " Begging ! no tell me now." 
 
 " It was in the Valley. Fitzgerald and I you know Fitz., 
 Arthur were on a hunting frolic. We went up on the moun- 
 tains, and fell in with game in abundance, but despicable 
 accommodations. We were at it for three days. The first 
 night we < camped out/ gipsy style ; built a'rousing fire to scare 
 the wild beasts ; wrapped our dreadnoughts around us, and ' lay, 
 like gentlemen taking a snooze/ feet towards the fire, and faces 
 towards the moon. I had made up my mind that there would 
 be precious little romance, and less comfort, in this very roomy 
 hotel ; but Fitz. was sentimentally inclined, and I let him alone. 
 < A life in the woods for me '/ said he, as he stretched himself 
 upon the ground. I was fast asleep in two minutes, so far as 
 Bounds went. 'Charley !' he exclaimed, at my heavy breathing.
 
 86 ALONE. 
 
 < Pshaw ! he's off ! he has no more poetry m him than there ia 
 in a rock.'" 
 
 " I guessed that he was helped to this illustration, by his dis- 
 covery of the quantity of the substance in the soil thereabouts, 
 for he shifted his position. He was tolerably still for about five 
 minutes ; then there was a jerk, and ' I have not picked the 
 softest spot, surely !' After another season of quiet came, 
 ' How he sleeps ! If he were to swap sides with me, he would 
 not be disturbing the echoes in that style !' 
 
 " A brief objurgation to an unnamed annoyance, was comment 
 fourth. I slept on perseveringly. He bore it for an hour, and 
 then got up and mended the fire, by which he was moodily 
 seated, when I awoke from my first nap. ' Hallo!' said I, rub 
 bing my eyes, < Is it morning ?' ' No ! and what's more, I don't 
 believe it's ever coming ?' with a savage accent. < Ah well ! just 
 hail me when it does break/ and I dropped back ' That is more 
 than flesh and blood can bear I' said he, with awful deliberate- 
 ness, < Here I can't get a wink of sleep, and you are snoring 
 away with a forty horse power. Maybe you think you are on a 
 feather bed, man !' fiercely ironical. 
 
 " { A feather bed !' just opening my eyes < a feather bed is 
 nothing to it, Fitz.' 
 
 " ' I believe you !' he said. 
 
 " The morning did come, and we had splendid shooting, and 
 happened on a log cabin that night, where we were permitted to 
 lodge, leaving most of our game for its mistress, who . refused 
 money for her hospitality. By three o'clock of the last day, we 
 turned our faces towards home, and by rare luck, overtook a man 
 who lived upon Fitz.'s farm, him we loaded with our guns and 
 game-bags, he being on horseback, and fresh, we on foot and 
 tired. Presently a traveller passed us, crossing to the other 
 side of the road, and eyeing us suspiciously. < Fitz./ observed I, 
 1 How hard that man looked at you. You are not exactly in 
 holiday trim, my dear fellow !' 
 
 " I haven't seen any man, or thought of myself, I was too 
 much absorbed in conjecturing how such an ugly creature as you, 
 was ever raised you couldn't have been, except in Easti m 
 Virginia.' 
 
 "After some sparring, we laid a bet as to how the people of
 
 ALONE. 87 
 
 the first house we came to, would decide the question of our com- 
 parative beauty, < I have it !' said he, ' We are foreigners ; talk 
 the most villainous jargon you can invent, and trust me for the 
 rest. We shall hear criticisms enough, I'll warrant.' 
 
 " We were ripe for fun; and reaching a small farm-house, Fitz. 
 opened the gate. < Recollect we know no Inglese !' We were 
 grotesque figures, wearing bell- crowned hats of white felt, drab 
 wrappers, coated with mud, and green-hunting shirts. Add a 
 beard of three days' growth, and brigandish mustachios, and you 
 have our ' picters.' The men were off at work, but the women 
 peeped at us from all quarters. Fitz. walked meekly up to a 
 girl who was washing in the yard. 
 
 " ( Avezyouvuspaimum ?' 
 
 " < What !' said she, wringing the suds from her hands. 
 
 " ( Wevusivusfaimetsoif,' winking at me for confirmation. 
 
 "'Yaw! pax vobiscum!' returned I, in imitation of poor 
 Wamba ; and pointing into my throat. 
 
 " ( Two forrinners,' said an older woman. < Come, see 'em, 
 chillen.' 
 
 " < You are hungry, ain't you "?' said the girl. 
 
 " e Novuscomprendum. 
 
 11 ' And thirsty, too ?' to me. 
 
 " I put my finger to my mouth, with a voracious snap. Away 
 she ran, and was back in a minute, with a plate of cold Irish 
 potatoes and a bowl of buttermilk ; a younger sister following 
 with another." 
 
 What did you do ?" 
 
 I drank it ! absolutely ! I, who had never looked at a churn 
 without shuddering. I desired to make a favorable impression. 
 The children were gaping at the sights ; and I contrived, before 
 handing the bowl to one of them, to drop a piece of money into 
 the milk left in the bottom < for manners.' I wished it back in 
 my pocket, as the old hag, after a prolonged stare, pointed her 
 skinny hand at me, < Sary } 1 think this 'ere one is rayther the 
 wuss looking, don't you ? 
 
 " Fitz. burst into a laugh, that scared them all in one direc- 
 tion, while we beat a retreat in the other." 
 
 "A hearty laugh helpeth digestion," said Dr. Carleton, setting 
 back in his chair. " Miss Ida, if you and Charley will under-
 
 88 ALONE. 
 
 take my practice, I ain in hopes that the casualty of the after- 
 noon will be less disastrous than we apprehend/' 
 
 "What casualty?" asked Charley. 
 
 The doctor explained. 
 
 " And you seize upon a prime lot of choice spirits, as a sub- 
 stitute for your tinctures and drugs. Fie, Doctor ! I thought 
 you were a temperance man I" 
 
 " I have the best right to your services," said Carry, clasping 
 her hands around his arm, and walking with him towards the 
 parlor. " And I forewarn you, I have enough for you to do. 
 Ida and I have moped here for a fortnight, without a single 
 frolic, and with an alarmingly scanty supply of beaux." 
 
 He looked down at her, as he would have done at Elle. 
 
 " You ride, do you not ?" 
 
 " There is a pleasant fiction that we have morning excursions, 
 daily; but history records but three such felicitous events." 
 
 Where was Arthur ?" 
 
 "Hush, my dear sir, the country is sickly; and " she 
 
 said, sotto voce, " He will not hear of father's going out after 
 night-fall; and they have had several difficult cases, of late, 
 demanding almost constant attendance." 
 
 " Then, if you are willing, I will enter upon my duties as 
 escort, to-morrow morning." 
 
 " Oh ! not so soon ! you may have time to recover from your 
 fatigue." 
 
 " Fatigue ! fudge ! I could dance all night. Are you fond of 
 riding, Miss Koss ?" 
 
 " I used to like it ; I am sadly out of practice now." 
 
 " A fault easily cured, if you are not timid." 
 
 " Not she 1" said Carry; "and want of practice notwithstand- 
 ing, she is a better horsewoman than I." 
 
 This was demonstrated in the course of the first ride ; and 
 both improved rapidly under the tuition of their self-constituted 
 instructor. 
 
 John returned to the city; Arthur's time was never at his 
 own disposal ; the care of the girls devolved entirely upon Char- 
 ley. From the moment of his arrival, Ida studied him intently, 
 and each hour brought difficulties, instead of elucidation. Easy 
 and kind, always at their service; and performing the tasks
 
 ALONE. 89 
 
 assigned him, as if they were real pleasures, he was nothing of 
 a " ladies' man ;" eschewed gallant speeches, and consigned flat- 
 terers to the tender mercies of Mrs. Opie. She felt that he was 
 affectionate, but would have been at a loss to produce proof 
 thereof. He never let fall a syllable of endearment, yet Carry 
 and the children read something in his face which said more. 
 His tastes were cultivated, and his mind well-informed, but he 
 set at naught the laws of conversational etiquette ; his sayings 
 had as marked a style as his features ; a style, which those who 
 did not know better, termed " droll," and those who did, dubbed 
 " Charley's ;" it was referable to no thing or person else. His 
 candor was not his least remarkable trait. He was obstinately 
 silent when appealed to for an opinion, or gave it rough-hewn ; 
 no rounding-off of sharp corners j no filling out here, or sloping 
 in there, so as to fit neatly to another's. He made no distinc- 
 tions of rank ; pulled off his hat to the meanest field-hand, with 
 as gentle courtesy as though he had been the President; and 
 severed the thread of her most sprightly narrations, to thank 
 the ragged urchin, who unfastened gates, or let down drawbars, 
 in their desultory excursions. 
 
 " He is one of the best of men," delivered Mammy, as fore- 
 man of the kitchen jury. Ida smiled at the harum-scarum 
 figure, which arose in her mind, in opposition to the image of 
 sanctity, Mammy's description should have summoned. 
 
 " You do not do him justice, Ida," observed Carry. 
 
 " My smile was not of unbelief, but amusement ; I like him. 
 There is a rich vein of quaint humor in his mind ; and his uneb- 
 bing spirits entitle him to the honors of the laughing philosopher." 
 
 He is more than that " 
 
 "Who was it I heard wishing for a frolic?" asked Charley, 
 coming in. " I met a boy with a basket full of perfumery and 
 white satin ribbon, at the gate. I had to stand between him 
 and the wind, while he gave me these. ' Miss Carleton' < Miss 
 Ross' ' Dr. Dana and brother,' they would swindle a fellow out 
 of his birth-right ! < Mr. and Mrs. Truman solicit the pleasure 
 ' hum. no doubt they will be overjoyed { evening, 27th 
 August' what is it, Carry?" 
 
 " We were talking of it this morning, the bridal party given 
 to William Truman and lady." 
 
 8*
 
 90 ALONE. 
 
 " Whom did be marry?" 
 
 "He isn't married at all; on the 26th ; he is to conduct to the 
 hymeneal altar, the beautiful Miss Sophia Morris, of Richmond, 
 Virginia." 
 
 " No newspaper reporter could be more explicit. You will go?" 
 
 " That depends upon Miss Ross' inclinations, and somebody's 
 gallantry." 
 
 " Poor dependence that last ! Do you know the bride elect 
 that is to be ?" 
 
 " The bride elect, that is is sister to a school-mate of ours ; 
 and I have some acquaintance with herself." 
 
 "Ellen will be with her sister," said Ida. "I shall enjoy 
 meeting her. Her laugh will carry us back to days of yore." 
 
 " To days of yore," said Charley, balanceing to an imaginary 
 partner. " Is it three or four weeks since you parted ? In a 
 young lady's calendar, a month is an age, six months eternity. 
 You look upon me as a miracle of longevity, do you not ?" 
 
 " As old enough to be less saucy," said Carry. " Do you 
 know that this habit of catching up one's words is very rude ?" 
 
 He threw a quick glance to Ida. " Miss Ross is not offended, 
 I trust. Nothing was further from my intention than to wound 
 or offend. I am too prone to speak without thought. Forgive 
 me this time." 
 
 " Upon two conditions." 
 
 " Name them." 
 
 " First, that you never again imagine an apology due, when 
 no offence has been committed; secondly, that you drop that 
 very punctilious ' Miss Ros,' and adopt your brother's manner 
 of address." 
 
 " Agreed! to both. If I presume upon my privileges, I rely 
 upon you for admonition." 
 
 "And this party?" said Carry. "Sit down and be a good 
 boy, while Ida and I talk it over." 
 
 He brought up a stool in front of their sofa, and, knees at a 
 right angle, feet close together; and folded hands, waited humbly 
 for the crumbs that might be flung to him. 
 
 "It is eight miles off," said Carry, "but there will be a 
 moon " 
 
 (" Most generally is !")
 
 ALONE. 91 
 
 " Be quiet, sir ! it will be moonlight, and the road is level and 
 dry " 
 
 (" It stops at the creek to get a drink !") 
 
 She aimed a blow at him with her fan, which he dodged. 
 
 " I am so little acquainted with them," objected Ida. 
 
 " That's nothing. Mr. and Mrs. Truman are the most 
 hospitable of human beings, and Mary is a lovely girl " 
 
 (" Per latest steamer from Paradise.") 
 
 We must go. Sister is here to keep father company. Now 
 the last query what shall we wear ?" 
 
 ( The first shall be last.") 
 
 " White muslins," returned Ida. 
 
 " Yes ; and the thinnest we have. Nothing else is endurable 
 this weather " 
 
 (" Except iced juleps !") 
 
 " Arthur I" cried Carry, with a pretty affectation of vexation. 
 Come in, and keep your brother quiet I" 
 
 "What is he doing? he seems very harmless," said Dr. Dana, 
 stepping through the window from the piazza. 
 
 The maligned individual applied his fist to his eye. " I ain't 
 a-touching nothin I" 
 
 " I am security for his good behaviour," continued Arthur, 
 laying his arm across his shoulder. " Proceed with the case in 
 hand." 
 
 The rival merits of peach-blossoms and azure were set forth ; 
 bandeaux preferred to curls the gentlemen giving the casting 
 vote; kid and satin slippers paraded Charley advocating 
 " calf-skin j" a muttering of " patriotism" and " domestic 
 manufacture," checked by a pinch from his brother; every 
 knot of ribbon ; each bud and leaf of the bouquets were settled 
 to the taste of the fair wearers before the council adjourned.
 
 92 ALONE. 
 
 CHAPTEK IX. 
 
 THE most spacious of Mrs. Truman's chambers was prepared 
 for the ladies' dressing-room, on the evening of the party ; and 
 there were no spare corners, although several of the neighbours 
 offered their houses for the use of those who dared not tempt 
 the chance of crumpled robes and disarranged coiffures; the 
 probable consequence of a ride eight or ten miles in gala dress. 
 Every stage of the toilet was in progress, from the chrysalis of 
 the dressing-gown to the full-winged butterfly, the sylph, who, 
 with a dainty adjustment of her diaphanous drapery, and a last, 
 lingering look at the flattering mirror, declared herself "ready." 
 
 Ida and Carry were bent upon dressing alike ; no easy matter 
 jO do, consistently with their perceptions of colours and fitness. 
 3o one hue became both ; so they proscribed the prismatic tints 
 tnd appeared in virgin white. Carry was beautiful as a dream 
 of Fairy Land. The plump, white arms were bare to the 
 shoulder, and without other ornament than their own fairness, 
 except a chain of gold, attached to a locket, containing her 
 parents' hair. This she never left off. Snowy gloves hid hands, 
 softer still ; the exquisitely-fitted corsage, and the waist it en- 
 clasped, were the admiration, and, if truth must be told, the envy 
 of the bevy of talkative damsels j but few remarked upon these 
 after a sight of her face. Her hair would curl, do what she 
 would ; the rebellious bandeaux refused to be plastered upon the 
 blue- veined temples, but rippled and glittered, like nothing but 
 a stream, golden in the sunset. The most artful smipgon of 
 rouge was a palpable counterfeit compared with her living 
 bloom ; pearls lay between the ruby lips ; and a spirit, more 
 priceless then gold or rubies, or pearls beamed from the liquid 
 eyes. Ida looked forward with delight to Arthur's exultant 
 smile, when he should behold her ; and Carry, alike forgetful of 
 self, was lost in gratified contemplation of the elegant figure of 
 her friend. "With not a tithe of the beauty of half the girls 
 present, her tout ensemble was striking and attractive. The 
 haughtiness which held the crowd at a distance, gave a high-bred
 
 ALONE. 93 
 
 tone to her bearing, and one sentence, uttered in her clear voice, 
 and a smile dispelled all unfavourable impressions. 
 
 Arthur and Charley were at the foot of the stairs. 
 
 " What a Babel I" said Ida, as they entered the thronged 
 rooms. 
 
 " And what a waste of breath !" replied Charley. " There is 
 neither sociability, or rational enjoyment, to be had in these 
 very large assemblies." 
 
 " I rather like the excitement of the crowd ;" said Ida, " it 
 affects me strangely, but agreeably ; with the same sensation the 
 waves may feel in their sports, a tumultuous glee at being a 
 part of the restless whole, never still, and always bounding 
 onward/' 
 
 " How do you account for it ? Is it magnetism animal 
 electricity ?" 
 
 " Perhaps so. If, as some contend, we are electrical machines, 
 the revolving currents of the subtle fluid must operate powerfully 
 upon the system of each, in a crowd like this. But to leave 
 speculative ground perilous to me, inasmuch as I do not know 
 what I am talking about " 
 
 "And I understand the science less," interrupted he. " You 
 remember the Scotchman's definition of metaphysics what were 
 you going to ask ?" 
 
 " Why you dislike these scenes ? I fancied you would be in 
 your element." 
 
 " Excuse me for saying that I suspect you class me among 
 amphibious creatures a sui generis equally at home in the air, 
 earth, and water, and not over-well qualified for any of these 
 states of existence." 
 
 Ida would have disclaimed ; but he had come too near the 
 mark ; the eyes that asked a reply were penetrating as laughing j 
 she was thankful that the bridal party released her from their 
 regards. 
 
 " The bride is pretty," he observed, when the confusion was a 
 little over. 
 
 "Tame praise for such beauty," said Ida. 
 
 " What then ? superb magnificent ? and if I wish to describe 
 the Alps or Niagara, can you help me to a word ?" 
 
 You do not affect the florid style now in vogue?"
 
 94 ALONE. 
 
 "No. It is the vice of American language and literature. 
 We ' pile on the agony/ until the idea is smothered ; plain words 
 lose their meaning, become too weak to go alone, and have to 
 be bolstered up by sonorous adjectives." 
 
 Ida smiled, and turned her head to look for Ellen Morris. 
 Charley remarked the movement, and imitated it. 
 
 " Ha ! can it be !" he exclaimed. 
 
 " What !" she questioned. 
 
 " I cannot be mistaken ! it is he ! What wind has blown him 
 hither ? An old I thought, a transatlantic friend ; the gentle- 
 man with the moustache, conversing with one of the bridesmaids." 
 
 " Ellen Morris ! I see him ; but he deserves more than the 
 doubtful designation of the 'gentleman with the moustache.' 
 Who, and what is he ?" 
 
 " An artist and poet, just returned from Italy, and the hero of 
 divers adventures, which, as you love the romantic, I may relate 
 to you in my poor way some day. His cognomen is Lynn 
 Holmes." 
 
 " He looks the poet ; how handsome I" 
 
 " < Tame praise for such beauty/ " quoted Charley, with mock 
 gravity. 
 
 It was, when applied to the face and form before them. He 
 was not above the medium height ; symmetrically proportioned, 
 hair purplish in its blackness, the arched nostril, and short upper 
 lip indicative of spirit and gentle birth, and the rich, warm com- 
 plexion had caught its flush from Italian suns. Its rapid fluctua- 
 tions, plainly visible through the transparent olive of his cheek, 
 spoke too, of passions kindled by that burning clime. But his 
 eyes ! Ida's were darker, as she gazed into their midnight 
 large and dreamy and melancholy ! a world of unwritten poetry ; 
 but when did poet have, or artist paint such ! 
 
 " What is the conclusion of the whole matter ?" asked Charley, 
 patiently. 
 
 " That you should speak to your friend ;" letting go his arm. 
 "I shall not mind your leaving me alone." 
 
 He replaced her hand. " Content yourself. Miss Morris 
 will not thank me, if I intrude at present. There is time enough. 
 Pity he has chosen a starving profession." 
 
 "And why 'pity/ if in so doing he has followed the beckon-
 
 ALONE. 95 
 
 ing of genius ? He has hearkened to, and obeyed the teachings 
 of his higher nature. Can they mislead ?" 
 
 " When we mistake their meaning. Genius steers wildly 
 astray if the compass-box of judgment is wanting. My remark 
 was a general one" seeing her grave look. " Holmes is one of 
 the gifted of the earth ; and when I lamented his choice of a pro- 
 fession, I did not censure him, but the public. He ought to 
 have a nabob's fortune to perfect his schemes ; and he will not 
 make a living. Men squander thousands for the intellectual 
 gratification of a horse-race ; an exhibition in which, I allow, the 
 brute is generally the nobler animal; and knowingly brand 
 him ' a verdant 'un,' who expends a quarter of that sum in works 
 of art. "Will you dance ? I hear a violin." 
 
 " I think not. It is too warm." 
 
 " To say nothing of the crowd. In dancing, as in most things, 
 I prefer standing upon my own footing not upon other people's 
 toes." 
 
 Nevertheless, there were those present who could not withstand 
 the allurement of a "hop," under any circumstances; and by 
 snug packing on the part of the soberly-inclined, while numbers 
 sought the freer air of the passages and piazzas, room was made 
 for a set. Ellen Morris joined it, and Mr. Holmes had time to 
 look about him. His start of delight as he recognised Charley, 
 and the heartiness of their greetings, showed their mutual attach- 
 ment ; and imagining that they would have much to say after a 
 lengthy separation, Ida would have fallen in the rear, had not 
 Charley forestalled her by a prompt presentation of his friend. 
 They exchanged, indeed, one or two brief questions and replies ; 
 but these over, she was the centre of attraction. The panting, 
 heated dancers tripped by, commiserating, if they noticed the 
 "hum-drum" group at the window ; never thinking that, demure 
 as they appeared, there was more enjoyment in that secluded 
 recess, than in the entire mass of revellers besides. There are 
 harmonies in conversation, the arrangement of which is wofully 
 disregarded. Accident had collected a rare trio. The artist 
 talked as he would have painted ; descrying beauties everywhere, 
 and bringing them together with a masterly hand; only tolerating 
 deformity, as it displayed them to more advantage, and shedding 
 over all the mellow glow of his fervid imagination ; startling by
 
 96 ALONE 
 
 paradoxes, to enchant by the grace and beauty of their reconcilia- 
 tion. And Charley, with a cooler brain and wary eye, was 
 ready to temper, not damp his enthusiasm ; not to dam the 
 rushing flood, but lead it aside into a smoother channel. Ida 
 thought of the compass-box, and charmed as she was by the 
 eloquence of this modern Raphael, acknowledged the justice of 
 the simile. For herself, appreciative and suggestive, she fanned 
 the flame. Her sympathetic glance and smile, the quick catching 
 at a thought, half unuttered ; the finish and polish his crude 
 ideas received from her lighter hand, could not but please and 
 flatter. How grating was the interruption ! 
 
 " Mr. Dana ! not dancing I" 
 
 " No, Mr. Truman, but exceedingly well entertained." 
 
 " Hav'nt a doubt of it ! hav'nt a doubt ! but there's a young 
 lady a stranger who wants a partner for the set that is form- 
 ing, and as your brother is engaged to dance, I mean with 
 Miss Somebody I forget who I thought as an old friend, I 
 would make so free as to call upon you, ah ah she being a 
 stranger, you understand, ah ah 
 
 " Certainly sir, of course, where is she ?" said Charley, swal- 
 lowing his chagrin, in his willingness to oblige the embarrassed 
 host. " Charles Dana, { having gone to see his partner, desires 
 the prayers of the congregation," he said aside to his compa- 
 nions, before plunging into the throng. 
 
 " ' 0, rare Ben Jonson !' " said Mr. Holmes, as they disap- 
 peared. 
 
 " And most incomprehensible of anomalies !" responded Ida. 
 
 " The dross is upon the surface refined gold beneath. Have 
 you known him long ?" 
 
 " But a fortnight." 
 
 " You have not mastered the alphabet yet. Bright and danc- 
 ing as is that eye, I have seen it shed tears in abundance and 
 softness, like a woman's. His tongue knows other language than 
 that of flippant trifling." 
 
 " He is a universal favorite. I am surprised he has never 
 married." 
 
 Mr. Holmes was silent. He even looked pained; and Ida, 
 conscious that she had unwittingly touched a sore spot, took up 
 the strain Mr. Truman had broken. She was in the Coliseum
 
 ALONE. 97 
 
 of Rome; when among the moving sea of faces precipitated upon 
 the retina, yet nothing to the brain, unless, perhaps, making 
 more vivid its conceptions of the multitude, who once lined the 
 crumbling walls of the amphitheatre one arrested her atten- 
 tion. The subject was thrilling; the speaker's description gra- 
 phic and earnest; it was unkind, and ungrateful, and disre- 
 spectful but laugh she must, and did, when in Charley's 
 partner she beheld Celestia Pratt! Her first emotion was 
 extreme amusement; her next, indignant compassion for him 
 thrust into public notice as the cavalier of a tawdry fright ; for 
 the thickest of satin robes, and a load of jewelry, that gave plau- 
 sibility to the tale of Hannibal's spoils at Cannae, betrayed, 
 instead of cloaking vulgarity. He was playing the agreeable, 
 however, with his wonted sang-froid, varied, as she judged from 
 his gestures, by gratuitous hints as to the figure and step. In 
 trying to efface the remembrance of her rudeness from Mr. 
 Holmes' mind, and watching the oddly matched pair, she passed 
 the time until the set was finished. Arthur approached, and the 
 gleam of his white teeth upset her acquired gravity. 
 
 " Caught," said he, as Mr. Holmes walked away, "just as I 
 was. I secured a partner directly I saw her ; and Mr. Truman, 
 hearing from her that I was an acquaintance, put at me two 
 minutes later." 
 
 He said you were engaged to dance." 
 
 " Here he is ! Charley, I thought you declined dancing." 
 
 " So I did. I consented to please Mr. Truman." 
 
 " Had you ever seen your partner before ?" 
 
 " No. I know what you are at, Art., but I cannot laugh with 
 you. I am sorry for her." 
 
 '" You shame us, Mr. Dana," said Ida, frankly. ' " I will 
 make amends for my uncharitableness, by fighting my way, sin- 
 gle-handed, to the farthest end of the room, to speak to her, if 
 you say so." 
 
 " And I, not to be outdone, will dance with her," said Arthur, 
 with a martyr-air. 
 
 " I absolve you," said his brother. She is a queer fish, I 
 own," in his light tone. " Have you spoken to Holmes ?" 
 
 " Yes. He says he has partly resolved to winter in Rich- 
 mond. He is a groomsman ; but the party disband to-morrow ; 
 9
 
 98 ALONE. 
 
 only Miss Morris attending the young couple to their home up 
 the country. I have invited Lynn to epend some time with us, 
 before he settles to business." 
 
 Will he come ?" 
 
 Probably." 
 
 A succession of introductions and beaux engaged Ida until 
 supper. She forgot her purpose of speaking with Celestia, and 
 would not have remembered her again that evening, had she not 
 been made aware of her proximity at table by something between 
 a grunt and exclamation, forced through a mouthful of cake. 
 
 " Lor ! if that ain't Idy Koss !" 
 
 She had a saucer of ice-cream in one hand, and a slice of fruit- 
 cake in her left ; so she stuck out a red elbow in lieu of either ; 
 which unique salutation Ida pretended not to see. 
 
 'How are you, Celestia? When did you come into the 
 neighbourhood ?" 
 
 " I jest got down yesterday. You see," in a stage whisper, 
 " I heard of this party better'n a fortnight ago, and ma and I 
 set our hearts 'pon my coming ; so I had this dress made (it 
 cost four dollars a yard !) and happened, you know, to pay a 
 visit to Cousin Lucindy Martin's, jest in the nick of time, and 
 Mrs. Truman, found out, you know, that I was there, and sent 
 me a 'bid.' Didn't I manage it nice?" 
 
 " You appear to be having a pleasant time." 
 
 " 0, splendid ! I've danced every set. Thar's a heap of polite 
 beaux ain't there ?" 
 
 " Miss Koss, what shall I have the pleasure of helping you 
 to ?" asked Mr. Euston, Ida's escort. 
 
 "She named an article, and Celestia twitched her arm 
 Who's that ?" 
 
 Mr. Euston," said Ida, distinctly. 
 
 "Is he your beau? 
 
 "No." 
 
 Then you'd as lief as not interduce me, hadn't you? He's 
 the loveliest thing I ever saw." 
 
 Ida flushed with disgust and vexation ; the insufferable con- 
 ceit of the girl, her bizarre appearance, and harsh tones drew the 
 notice of many to them ; and her horror of ridicule was strong 
 upon her.
 
 ALONE. 99 
 
 " Miss Ida," said Charles Dana, across the table. " Will you 
 cat a philopoena with me?" As he tossed the almond, she 
 marked his expression, and the scene in the painting-room, Jose- 
 phine's derision, and the rude mirth of her supporters, her hur- 
 ricane of rage and the commanding look that said to it " Be 
 still," all rushed over her like a whirlwind, and departed sud- 
 denly. Mr. Euston was bowing with the desired delicacy; 
 Celcstia, serenely expectant, and with the mien of one who con- 
 fers a favour upon both parties, she complied with the fair lady's 
 request. Mr. Euston was handsome and gallant; he immedi- 
 ately dipped into his stock of pretty sayings, and presented one 
 of the most elegant. The recipient fluttered and prinked, and 
 baited another hook; and Ida stole a look at Charley. Her not 
 recognizing him before was no marvel ; she could hardly per- 
 suade herself that her conviction of a minute before was not an 
 illusion; so impervious was the Momus mask. He was fre- 
 quently near, and with her, in the course of the evening : but 
 no sign betokened a suspicion of her perplexity. He was gayer 
 than his wont ; when sheer fatigue drove the votaries of pleasure 
 from the festive hall, his spirits were at their meridian. He had 
 passed most of the day on horseback ; had talked and danced and 
 stood for six hours; yet he sent off carriage after carriage with a 
 lively adieu ; and seeing his own party seated in theirs, vaulted 
 into the saddle, as for a morning gallop. He cheered the weary 
 travellers so long as he could extort replies from the lagging 
 tongues, and serenaded them the rest of the way with snatches 
 of melody fantastic as his mood. 
 
 " Why have you and Charley preserved such a mysterious 
 silence respecting our former meeting?" inquired Ida, when she 
 and Carry were laid down to sleep. 
 
 " He charged me not to name him, if I heard the matter 
 alluded to; and, since we have been at home, enjoined secrecy 
 more strictly, saying the incident was better forgotten than 
 remembered," said Carry, dozingly. 
 
 This was Thursday. On Saturday the young artist made one 
 in their midst. In his school-days he was a welcome guest at 
 Poplar-grove, spending a portion of his vacation with his friend 
 Charley, and the lapse of years had not rusted the hinges of
 
 100 ALONE. 
 
 the hospitable doors, or those of the master's heart. He was 
 received and cherished as of old. 
 
 Mrs. Dana looked into the girls' room before retiring. Ida 
 was brushing her hair; Carry watching and talking to her. 
 Yes," said she, complacently, appealing to her sister for con- 
 firmation. " I flatter myself our party could not be more select 
 or composed of choicer materials. Four beaux including father 
 handsomest of all; and but two belles three pardon me, 
 Mrs. Dana. It may be a century ere we are again so blessed ; 
 and we must go somewhere, or do something to exhibit our- 
 selves. Ida may have Charley and father, if she will leave the 
 Italian and his lamping eyes to me." 
 
 "And Arthur why is he neglected the division of spoils?" 
 asked Mrs. Dana. 
 
 " I make him over to you. Brother John commended you to 
 his care." 
 
 " Mammy applied to me for numberless passes, to-night. 
 There is a big meeting at Rocky Mount. The servants will 
 attend en masse, to-morrow; why not follow their example?" 
 said Mrs. Dana, with playful irony. 
 
 " We will !" exclaimed Carry, clapping her hands. " I'll 
 ask father this minute." 
 
 " But, my dear sister " 
 
 " Don't say a word, Jenny; Ida would like to go, I am sure." 
 
 "When I understand the character of the entertainment; I 
 shall be qualified to express my wishes." 
 
 " Why," answered Carry, tying the cord of the wrapper she 
 had cast around her. "They preach a little, and sing and 
 shout; and in intermission, we have grand fun." 
 
 Fun ! at church !" 
 
 " That is not the word precisely; but everybody meets every- 
 body else, and we have an hour for talking and eating. How 
 happens it, that you are a novice ? you are country-born." 
 
 " I was never at a big meeting, notwithstanding." 
 
 " An additional reason, why we should be on the spot to- 
 morrow. I will be back directly." 
 
 In five minutes she returned, blushing and laughing. 
 
 " Would you believe it? When I knocked at father's door, 
 Arthur opened it. I slunk back in the dark, and asked for
 
 ALONE. 101 
 
 < Marster.' ' Doctor/ said he, < Martha wants to see you,' and 
 sauntered off. Didn't father stare, and I laugh, when I ran in ! 
 The stupid creature ! to be fooled so easily I" 
 
 " The meeting !" said Ida. 
 
 " All's well ! Father was afraid we might be tired, if we 
 stayed to both sermons ; but I assured him that was impossible. 
 I hope it will be a fine day !" 
 
 She was gratified ; but the weather was not brighter than the 
 faces gathered upon the piazza, at a shockingly unfashionable 
 hour. It was six miles to Rocky Mount; and as Charley 
 observed, " seats in the dress circle would be at a premium, two 
 hours before services begun." 
 
 " 'Marster' does not accompany us," said Arthur, significantly, 
 as he handed Carry into the carriage. She was too much con- 
 fused to reply; but Ida and Mrs. Dana laughed outright. 
 
 " Papa and myself, having no vagrant propensities, will go to 
 our own church," anwered the latter. " And if you have waited 
 upon the young ladies, I will thank you to put me into the gig, 
 Dr. Dana." 
 
 Mr. Holmes accepted a seat with the ladies ; Charley and 
 Arthur were on horseback. It is doubtful if one of the merry 
 riders realised, for an instant, the sacredness of the day, or that 
 they were bound to a place of worship. It did not occur, even 
 to Dr. Carleton, that their glee, innocent and proper upon ordi- 
 nary occasions, now verged upon sinful levity. He saw in it, 
 the buoyancy of youth under the influence of agreeable company, 
 and a cloudless day. They would be subdued by the exercises 
 of* the sanctuary; and he drove .along, his large heart full of 
 love and praise to Him who had showered these gem-sparkles 
 into his chalice of life ; the young people beguiling the length 
 of their journey, by a running fire of badinage, puns and serio- 
 comic discussions; embarked, to all intents and purposes, upon 
 a party of pleasure. 
 
 " Behold Rocky Mount !" said Arthur, pointing to a rising 
 ground, tufted by a clump of oaks. 
 
 " "Where is the church ?" inquired Ida. I can distinguish 
 people and horses, but no house." 
 
 "After we get there, I will lend you my pocket microscope/'' 
 responded Charley. The brown walls of a small building, in 
 9*
 
 102 ALONE. 
 
 the centre of the grove, were visible, as the road wound around 
 
 the hill ; but its dimensions were as great a puzzle as its absence 
 
 would have been. Carry came to her aid. 
 " They preach out of doors, my dear." 
 " Out of doors I" this was a charming novelty. 
 " ' The groves were God's first temples,' " she repeated softly, 
 
 and Lynn continued the noble lines 
 
 "Ah, why 
 
 Should we, in the world's riper years, neglect 
 God's ancient sanctuaries, and adore, 
 Only among the crowd, and under roofs 
 That our frail hands have raised ?" 
 
 Charley smiled dubiously, but held his peace. The crowd 
 thickened with their advance. Horses were tethered in solid 
 ranks to the trees ; children straying frightfully near to their 
 heels; wagons and carriages almost piled upon each other; and 
 men, white and black, stood about everywhere. The driver 
 reined up, twenty yards from the arbor erected under the trees. 
 
 " Drive up nearer, Tom I" said Carry. 
 
 " He cannot," replied Arthur, letting down the steps. 
 Look I" 
 
 There was a quadruple row of vehicles on three sides of the 
 arbor, the fourth being, at considerable pains, left open for 
 passage. Several young men dashed to the side of the carriage, 
 with as much empressment as at a ball, and thus numerously 
 attended, the girls picked their way through the throng and 
 dust. No gentlemen were, as yet, in their seats, and our party 
 secured a vacant bench midway to the pulpit. 
 
 " Don't sit next to the aisle," whispered Arthur. 
 
 " Why not ?" questioned Ida, removing to the other extremity 
 of the plank. 
 
 " Oh ! it is more comfortable here. We will be with you 
 again presently." 
 
 " That is not all the reason," remarked Carry, when he was 
 gone. " This railing protects us from the press on this side ; 
 and our young gentleman will not permit any one to occupy the 
 stand without, but themselves." 
 
 Will they not sit down?" 
 
 No, indeed ! there will not be room. Then the aisles will
 
 ALONE. 103 
 
 be filled with all sorts of people, and our dresses be liable ta 
 damage from boots and tobacco juice." 
 
 " Tobacco juice I" was she in a barbarous country ! As Carry 
 predicted, their -three attendants worked their way, between the 
 wheels and the people, to where they sat. Charley crawled 
 under the rail, and planted himself behind them. 
 
 " I can keep my position until some pretty girl dislodges me," 
 said he. The denizens of these parts have not forgotten how 
 to stare." 
 
 He might well say so A battery of eyes was levelled upon 
 them, wherever they looked. The tasteful dress and elegant 
 appearance of the ladies, and their attractive suite, were subjects 
 of special importance to the community at large. Although 
 eclipsed in show by some present, theirs was a new constellation, 
 and they must support observation as they could. They stood 
 fire bravely; Ida was most unacccustomed to it, and she found 
 so much to interest and divert her, that she became unconscious 
 of the annoyance after a little. 
 
 " Are those seats reserved for distinguished strangers ? have 
 not we a right to them?" designating a tier in front of the 
 speaker's stand. 
 
 " They are the anxious benches," returned Charley. 
 
 Nonsense 1" 
 
 " So I think. The brethren dissent from us. I am not 
 quizzing. That is the name." 
 
 " The mourners the convicted occupy them," said Carry. 
 
 " Are they here ?" inquired Ida, credulously. It was prepos- 
 terous to conceive such a possibility in this frivolous loud-talking 
 
 " Not now;" answered Charley. But when they crowd on 
 the steam, you will witness scores." 
 
 " Fie ! Charley? it is wicked to speak so !" 
 
 "I am just as pious as if I did not, Carry. I'll wager my 
 horse and head too that by to-night, Miss Ida will agree with 
 me, that these religious frolics are more hurtful to the cause they 
 are intended to advance, than fifty such harmless affairs, as we 
 attended on Thursday night." 
 
 I am not solemnised yet;" said Ida. 
 
 " You are as solemn as you are going to be. You may be
 
 104 ALONE. 
 
 excited, or frightened into something like gravity. Two, three, 
 four preachers ! That's what I call a waste of the raw material. 
 What a flutter of ribbons and fans ! The congregation reminds 
 me of a clover field, with the butterflies hovering over its gaily- 
 colored, bobbing heads. Handsome ladies by dozens ! This 
 county is famed for its beauty, and but one tolerable-looking 
 man in its length and breadth I" 
 
 " Why, there is Mr, Euston what fault have you to find in 
 him ?" 
 
 " He is the honorable exception. Whom did you think I 
 meant?" smiling mischievously at Carry's unguarded query. 
 "Art. here, is passable. Modesty prevents my saying more, as 
 we are daily mistaken for each other. The music strikes up; 
 rather quavering ; they are not in the ' spirit' yet. They never 
 get to the < understanding.' I must decamp. Those fair ones 
 are too bashful to look this way, while I am here." 
 
 He was on the outside of the rail, sedate and deacon-like, in 
 a minute. Unsuited as his remarks were to the time and place, 
 they were less objectionable than the whispers of the ladies who 
 dispossessed him; critiques upon Susan's beaux and Joseph's 
 sweethearts ; upon faces, dress and deportment ; a quantity of 
 reprobation, and very sparse praises. 
 
 The preacher was an unremarkable man, who delivered, in a 
 sing-song tone, an unremarkable discourse ; opposing no impedi- 
 ment to the sociability of the aforementioned damsels, except 
 that they lowered their shrill staccato to a piano. The gentle- 
 men whispered behind their hats, notched switches, and whittled 
 sticks. The hearers from Poplar-grove, albeit they were gay, 
 youthful, and non-professors, were the most decorous auditors in 
 their part of the congregation. Another minister arose ; a man 
 not yet in his thirtieth year, his form stooped, as beneath the 
 weight of sixty winters. The crowd stilled instantly. He 
 leaned, as for support, upon the primitive desk ; his attenuated 
 hands clasped, his eyes moving slowly in their cavernous 
 recesses, over the vast assemblage. "And what come ye out 
 into the wilderness for to see?" he said, in a voice of preter- 
 natural sweetness and strength. "Aye! ye arc come as to a 
 holiday pageant, bedecked in tinsel and costly raiment. I see 
 before me the pride of beauty and youth ; the middle-aged, in
 
 ALONE. 105 
 
 the strength of manliness and honor, the hoary hairs and decrepid 
 limbs of age ; all trampling hustling each other in your haste 
 in one beaten road the way to death and judgment ! Oh ! 
 fools and blind ! slow-worms, battening upon the damps and filth 
 of this vile earth ! hugging your muck rakes while the glorious 
 One proffers you the crown of Life 1" The bent figure straight- 
 ened ; the thin hands were endowed with a language of power, 
 as they pointed, and shook, and glanced through the air. His 
 clarion tones thrilled upon every ear, their alarms and threaten- 
 ings and denunciations; in crashing peals, the awful names of 
 the Most High, and His condemnations of the wicked, descended 
 among the throng; and those fearful eyes were fiery and wrath- 
 ful. At the climax he stopped ; with arms still upraised, and 
 the words of woe and doom yet upon his lips, he sank upon the 
 arm of a brother beside him, and was led to his seat, ghastly as 
 a corpse, and nearly as helpless. 
 A female voice began a hymn. 
 
 "This is the field, the world below, 
 Where wheat and tares together grow; 
 Jesus, ere long will weed the crop, 
 And pluck the tares in anger up." 
 
 The hills, for miles around, reverberated the bursting chorus, 
 
 "For soon the reaping time will come, 
 And angels shout the harvest home !" 
 
 The ministers came down from the stand, and distributed 
 themselves among the people ; bowed heads and shaking forms 
 marking their path ; a woman from the most remote quarter of 
 the throng, rushed up to the mourner's seats, and flung herself 
 upon her knees with a piercing cry; another and another; 
 some weeping aloud ; some in tearless distress ; numbers knelt 
 where they had sat ; and louder and louder, like the final trump, 
 and the shout of the resurrection morn, arose the surge of song; 
 
 " For soon the reaping time will come 
 And angels shout the harvest home !" 
 
 Carry trembled and shrank; and Ida's firmer nerves were 
 quivering. A lull in the storm, and a man knelt in the aisle, 
 to implore " mercy and pardon for a dying sinner, who would 
 not try to avert the wrath to come." 
 
 Sonorous accents went on with his weeping petition; praying
 
 106 ALONE. 
 
 for " the hardened, thoughtless transgressors those who had 
 neither part nor lot in this matter; who stood afar off, despising 
 and reckless." Again rolled out a chorus; speaking now of 
 joyful assurance. 
 
 "Jesus my all to heaven has gone 
 
 (When we get to heaven we will part no more,) 
 He whom I fix my hopes upon 
 
 When we get to heaven we will part no more. 
 Oh ! Fare-you-well ! oh ! fare-you-well ! 
 When we get to heaven we will part no more, 
 
 Oh ! Fare-you-well !" 
 
 Ida's eyes brimmed, and Carry sobbed with over-wrought 
 feeling. Arthur bent over the railing and spoke to the latter. 
 He looked troubled, but for her : Lynn stood against one of 
 the pillars which supported the roof; arms crossed, and a redder 
 mantling of his dark cheek ; Charley was cool and grave, taking 
 in the scene in all its parts, with no sympathy with any of the 
 phases of emotion. The tumult increased; shouted thankgivings, 
 and wails of despair ; singing and praying and exhorting, clash- 
 ing in wild confusion. 
 
 " You had best not stay here," said Arthnr to Carry, whose 
 struggles for composure he could not bear to see. 
 
 "Suffer me to pass, Dr. Dana;" and a venerable minister 
 stooped towards the weeping girl. " My daughter, why do you 
 remain here, so far from those who can do you good ? You are 
 distressed on account of sin; are you ashamed to have it known ? 
 Do you not desire the prayer of Christians? I will not affirm 
 that you cannot be saved anywhere ; ' the arm of the Lord is not 
 shortened/ but I do warn you, that if you hang back in pride or 
 stubbornness, you will be lost ; and these only can detain you 
 after what you have heard. Arise, and join that company of 
 weeping mourners, it may not be too late." 
 
 Carry shook her head. 
 
 " Then kneel where you are, and I will pray for you." 
 
 She dried her tears. " Why should I kneel, Mr. Manly ? I 
 do not experience any sorrow for sin." 
 
 My child !" 
 
 " My tears are not those of penitence ; I do not weep for iny 
 infulness ; I can neither think nor feel in this confusion." 
 
 The good man was fairly stumbled by this avowal. 
 
 " Have you no interest in this subject ?"
 
 ALONE. 107 
 
 "Not more than usual, sir. My agitation proceeded from 
 animal excitement." 
 
 "I am fearful it is the same in a majority of instances, Mr. 
 Manly ;" said Arthur, respectfully. 
 
 11 You my perceive your error one day, my son ; let me entreat 
 you to consider this matter as binding up your eternal welfare ; 
 and caution you not to lay a feather in the way of those who may 
 be seeking their salvation." 
 
 Arthur bowed silently; and the minister passed on. 
 
 Dr. Carleton retired early that evening with a headache. 
 Mrs. Dana was getting the children to sleep ; the young people 
 had the parlor to themselves. Charley was at the piano, finger- 
 ing over sacred airs ; psalm tunes, sung by the Covenanters, in 
 their craggy temples, or murmuring to an impromptu accompani- 
 ment, a chant or doxology. All at once he struck the chords 
 boldly, and added the full powers of the instrument to his voice, 
 in the fine old melody of Brattle Street. Lynn ceased his walk 
 through the room, and united his rich base at the second line j 
 Arthur, a tenor; Catry and Ida were happy to be permitted to 
 listen 
 
 " While Thee I seek, protecting Power, 
 
 Be my vain wishes stilled ; 
 And may this consecrated hour 
 
 With better hopes be filled. 
 
 Thy love the power of thought bestowed, 
 
 To thee my thoughts would soar; 
 Thy mercy o'er my life has poured, 
 
 That mercy I adore. 
 
 In each event of life how clear 
 
 Thy ruling hand I see ! 
 Each mercy to my soul most dear, 
 
 Because conferred by Thee. 
 
 In every joy that crowns my days, 
 
 In every pain I bear, 
 My heart shall find delight in praise, 
 
 Or seek relief in prayer. 
 
 When gladness wings my favored hour, 
 
 Thy love my thoughts shall fill; 
 Resigned when storms of sorrow lower, 
 
 My soul shall meet Thy will. 
 
 My lifted eye, without a tear, 
 
 The gathering storm shall see; 
 My steadfast heart shall know no fear, 
 
 That heart will rest on Thee!"
 
 108 ALONE. 
 
 " There !" said Charley, " there is more religion in that hymn 
 than in all the fustian we have heard to-day ; sermons, prayers 
 and exhortations. Humbug in worldly concerns is despicable ; 
 in the church, it is unbearable." 
 
 Consider, Charley, that hundred of pious people believe in 
 the practices you condemn. Some of the best Christians I know 
 were converted at these noisy revivals," said Carry. 
 
 " It would be miraculous if there were not a grain or two of 
 wheat in this pile of chaff. I never attend one that I am not 
 the worse for it. It is a regular annealing furnace; when the 
 heat subsides you can neither soften or bend the heart again 
 the iron is steel. What dees Miss Ida say ?" 
 
 " That sin is no more hateful, or religion more alluring, for 
 this Sabbath's lessons ; still, I acquiesce in Carry's belief, that 
 although mistaken iu their zeal, these seeming fanatics are 
 sincere." 
 
 "You applaud enthusiasm upon other subjects, why not in 
 religion?" asked Lynn , " if any thing, it is everything. If Icould 
 believe that, when the stormy sea of life is passed, heaven an 
 eternal noon-tide of love and blessedness would be mine a life- 
 time would be too short, mortal language too feeble to express 
 my transport. There is a void in the soul which nought but this 
 can satisfy. Life is fresh to us now ; but from the time of 
 Solomon to the present, the worlding has nauseated at the pol- 
 luted spring, saying, ' For all his days are sorrow, and his travail 
 grief; yea, his heart taketh not rest in the night.' I envy not 
 carp at the joys of those whose faith, piercing through the fogs 
 of this lower earth, reads the sure promise 'It is your Father's 
 good pleasure to give you the kingdom.' " 
 
 "You do homage to the beauty of the Faith, by whomsoever 
 professed. I note its practical effects ; judge of its genuineness 
 by its workings. For example, the Old Harry awoke mightily 
 within me, in intermission, to see Dick Hogers preaching to 
 Carry, threatening her with perdition she, who never in her 
 life, committed a tenth of the sin he is guilty of every day. He 
 has been drunk three times in the last month ; he is a walking 
 demijohn ; his hypocrisy a shame to his grey hairs. And James 
 Mather he would sell his soul for a fourpence, and call it clear 
 gain. Sooner than lose a crop, he forces his negroes to work on
 
 ALONE. 109 
 
 Sunday can'i trust the God of harvest, even upon His own 
 day. The poor hands are driven on week-days as no decent 
 man would do a mule ; he let his widowed sister go to the poor- 
 house, and offered to lend John five thousand dollars, the next 
 week at eight per cent. I have known him since I was a shaver, 
 and never had a word from him upon the < one thing needful,' 
 except at church. And he was in the altar, this morning, shout- 
 ing as though the Lord were deaf I" 
 
 Charley ! Charley !" 
 
 " Facts are obstinate things, Carry. Next to being hypocri- 
 tical ourselves, is winking at it in others. The church keeps 
 these men in her bosom ; she must not complain, if she shares 
 in the odium they merit. They are emphatically sounding 
 brass." 
 
 " Let them grow together until the harvest," said Arthur. 
 " It is a convincing proof of the truth of Religion, that there are 
 careful counterfeits." 
 
 " I do not impeach the 'truth of Religion.' You need not 
 speak so reproachfully, Arthur. I believe in the Christianity of 
 the Scriptures. What I assail, is intermittent piety ; springs, 
 whose channels are dusty, save at particular seasons ; camp- 
 meetings and the like ; men, who furbish up their religion, along 
 with their go-to-meeting boots, and wear it no longer. Their 
 brethren despise them as I do ; but their mouths are shut, lest 
 they < bring disgrace upon their profession.' It can have no 
 fouler disgrace than their lives afford, I speak what others con- 
 ceal ; when one of these whited sepulchres lifts his Bible to break 
 my head, for a graceless reprobate, I pelt him with pebbles from 
 the clear brook. Look at old Thistleton ! a mongrel, 
 porcupine and bull-dog; pricking and snarling from morning 
 'till night. A Christian is a gentleman; he is a surly growler. 
 Half of the church hate, the other half dread him; yet he sits 
 on Sabbaths, in the high places of the synagogues, leads prayer- 
 meetings, and weeps over sinners sanctified < brother Thistleton.' 
 He thunders the law at me ; and I knock him down with a stout 
 stick, St. John cuts ready to my hand ; If a man say, I love 
 God, and hate his brother, he is a liar !' I hush up Rogers, 
 with < No drunkard shall inherit the kingdom ;' and Mather, 
 with, t you cannot serve God and Mammon.' They say I am a 
 10
 
 110 ALONE. 
 
 scoffer; I don't care. Now" continued this contrary being, 
 passing ink a tone of reverent feeling ; There is my kind 
 guardian. I don't believe he ever shouted, or made a public 
 address in his life. He. lives his religion; a child can perceive 
 that the Bible is a < lamp to his feet ;' a pillar of cloud in pros- 
 perity ; a sun in adversity. I saw it when a boy, and it did me 
 more good than the preached sermons I have listened to since. 
 He called me into his study the night before I left home, and gave 
 me a copy of ' the book.' < Charley, my son/ said he, < you are 
 venturing upon untried seas ; here is the Chart, to which t have 
 trusted for twenty years ; and have never been led by it, upon a 
 quicksand. Look to it, my boy !' I have read it, more, because 
 he asked it, than for its intrinsic value; that is my failing, not 
 his. I have waded through sloughs of theories and objections; 
 but hold to it still. Especially, when I am here, and kneel in 
 my old place at the family altar ; hear the solemn tones, that 
 quieted my boyish gayety ; when I witness his irreproachable, 
 useful life, I say, < His chart is true ; would I were guided by 
 it !' No no Art. ! I may be careless and sinful ; I am no 
 skeptic." 
 
 " A skepticl" exclaimed Lynn. " There never was one ! 
 Voltaire was a fiend incarnate; a devil, who 'believed and trem- 
 bled,' in spite of his hardihood ; Paine, a brute, who, inconve- 
 nienced by a soul, which would not sink as low as his passions 
 commanded, tried to show that he had none, as the easiest 
 method of disembarrassing himself. That one of God's creatures, 
 who can look up to the glories of a night like this, or see the 
 sun rise to-morrow morning, and peep, in his insect voice, a 
 denial of Him who mada the world, is demon or beast; often 
 both. ( Call no man happy 'till he dies/ Atheists have gone 
 to the stake for their opinions; but physical courage or the heat 
 of fanaticism, not the belief, sustained them. We have yet to 
 hear of the infidel, who died in his bed, 
 
 'As one who wraps the drapery of his couch 
 About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.' " 
 
 It is a mystery that one can die tranquilly," said Carry. 
 " I have stood by many peaceful death-beds," returned Arthur. 
 " I never wish so ardently for an interest in the Redemption, as
 
 ALONE. Ill 
 
 when I watch the departure of a saint. One verse is in my 
 mind for days afterwards. I repeat it aloud as I ride alone ; and 
 it lingers in my last waking thought at night : 
 
 'Jesus can make a dying bed 
 
 Feel soft as downy pillows are ; 
 'While on his breast, I lean my head, 
 
 And breathe my life out sweetly there.' 
 
 "And why do you not encourage these feelings?" asked 
 Charley, bluntly. "I call that conviction; a different thing 
 from the burly of this morning. You want to be a Christian; 
 so do I sometimes; but you are a more hopeful subject." 
 
 " I am by no means certain of that. You would never abide 
 with the half-decided, so long as I have done. You are one 
 of the < violent,' who would take the kingdom of Heaven by 
 force." 
 
 " How strange !" said Charley, thoughtfully. 
 
 " What is strange ?" inquired his brother. 
 
 " Here are five of us, as well-assured of the verity of Chris- 
 tianity, and God's revealed Word, as of our own existence ; the 
 ladies, practising every Christian virtue; Lynn, prepared to 
 break a lance with infidelity in any shape ; you, like Agrippa, 
 almost persuaded ; and I, stripping off the borrowed plumage of 
 those who have a name to live ; yet we will be content to close 
 our eyes in sleep, uncertain of re-opening them in life ; unfit 
 for Death and Eternity !" 
 
 He turned again to the piano; Arthur quitted the room ; Lynn 
 gazed out of the window, with working features ; Carry shaded 
 her eyes with her hand ; Ida felt a cold awe creeping over her. 
 1 Death and Eternity !' had she heard the words before ? how out 
 of place in the bright warm life they were leading ! Here were 
 true friendships, tried and strengthened by years ; young love, 
 joying in his flowery course; refined and congenial spirits; the 
 luxuries of wealth and taste; how unwelcome the hand that 
 lifted the drapery which enveloped the skeleton ! ( Death and 
 Eternity!' The spell was upon the scented air; the moon 
 threw shadows upon the grass, as of newly heaped graves ; and 
 the vibrating cords spoke but of the one awful theme !
 
 112 ALONE 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 " OUR last ride can it be !" said Lynn, when the horses 
 were brought to the gate, early in a September afternoon. Ida 
 smiled faintly. The parting of the morrow, was, to her, the 
 death of a summer's day, to be succeeded by wintry darkness. 
 Not even Carry knew how the prospect oppressed her. 
 
 Lynn saw that his remark was injudicious, and endeavoured 
 to atone for it, by the most delicate assiduity of attention. 
 Their liking had matured into an attachment, which might have 
 been predicated upon their consonance of feeling and sentiment. 
 Her calmer judgment gave her the ascendancy, which belonged 
 of right, to the masculine mind ; he did not look up she could 
 not have respected him if he had ; but he consulted and appealed 
 to her, as a brother would ask counsel of an elder sister. She 
 learned to imitate Charley, in curbing his impetuosity ; and he 
 chafed less at her soft touch upon the rein. No bantering 
 checked the growth of their friendship ; they were, for the time, 
 members of one family j Lynn and Charley were no more to the 
 disengaged young lady than Arthur. 
 
 Their excursion was to a splendid mansion, fifteen miles from 
 Poplar-grove, lately completed, and not yet occupied by a 
 wealthy landed proprietor, the Crossus of the county. Arthur 
 had seen it, and carried home such a report of its stately gran- 
 deur, that a visit was forthwith projected. Nature was in one 
 of her richest autumnal moods. 
 
 " She dies, as a queen should in royal robes," said Lynn. 
 " Note the purple haze upon those hills, and the yellow glory 
 that bathes the foreground ! I would sacrifice this right arm, 
 could I first transfer that light to canvass. Loveliness like this 
 maddens me with a Tantalus frenzy. To think that it must 
 fade, when it should be immortal ! I would have it ever before 
 me." 
 
 "It lives in your memory. That is a pleasure, time nor 
 distance diminishes." 
 
 I am not satisfied with this selfish hoarding. A voice is
 
 ALONE. 113 
 
 ever urging me on, 'Create! create!' it cries; and while my 
 pencil moves, I am a creator j exulting in the pictures graven 
 upon my soul, as no parent ever joyed over a beloved child. 
 < They are mine mine !' I repeat in an ecstacy. I have wept 
 above almost worshipped them ! Then comes the chill, grey 
 light of critical reason, as when you awake at morning, and see 
 things as they are : the soul-pictures are beauteous still : my 
 copy the veriest daub I" 
 
 11 The keenness of your disappointment is an augury of success. 
 The lithography is perfect you must not despond at the failure 
 of one proof-impression. Your mortification is a greater triumph 
 than the complacency with which a mediocre genius surveys his 
 work." 
 
 " You remember Sheridan's maiden speech," said Charley. 
 
 " I have read of Demosthenes'," replied Lynn. 
 
 " Sheridan's was a similar case. He was hooted at for his 
 presumption ; his first and second attempts were wretched : and 
 his friends advised him to retire from the rostrum forever. 
 'Never !' said he, striking his breast. <It is here, and shall come 
 out!'" 
 
 "A glorious 'coming out' it was!" responded Ida. "What 
 do you say now ?" to Lynn. 
 
 "That it is here!" returning her bright look. "Was ever 
 man more blessed in his friends ? More fortunate than Adam, I 
 take my guardian angels with me, from the Paradise I leave 
 to-morrow." 
 
 " You must array one in a less questionable shape, if you 
 would have men admit his angelic relationship," said Charley, 
 with a grimace. " What are you looking at?" 
 
 Lynn did not reply. They were upon a hill ; and some object 
 in the valley beneath fastened his gaze. The pensive cast of his 
 features bordered upon gloom, as they neared it. Ida saw only 
 a graceful knoll, bounded, except towards the west, by a chain 
 of more imposing eminences. A monarch oak stood in isolated 
 sovereignty upon its summit ; it had shaded a dwelling, for one 
 chimney yet remained ; and the sickly herbage of the slope was 
 not the produce of a virgin soil. Lynn stopped. Not a word 
 was spoken, his eyes were too full of tender sadness j the man-- 
 not the artist, looked from them. 
 
 10*
 
 114 ALONE. 
 
 " A lonely tree, and a desolate hearth-stone I" muttered he. 
 "It is prophetic!" 
 
 " Is the spot known to you?" asked Ida, gently, as they rode 
 on. 
 
 " It was my birth-place." 
 
 "I had forgotten;" said Charley. "You were very young 
 when you left it." 
 
 " But I remember it. I could point out to you the very place 
 where my mother taught me to walk; a grass-plat before the 
 door : she upon the step, my father kneeling at a short distance, 
 and each tempting me to undertake the journey from one to the 
 other. They are gone ! parents, brother, sisters I there is but 
 one puny scion of a noble line remaining!" 
 
 Ida turned her face away. The sad story everywhere ! Was 
 there justice there was not mercy in thus rending away the 
 sweetest comforts man can know, while avarice, and pride and 
 malevolence rioted in unharmed luxuriance. Earth was a cheat, 
 and happiness a lie ! 
 
 " This is a fine piece of road," said Charley, and we are 
 jogging over it, like Quakers going to market. I say ! Art. !" 
 
 "Well!" answered his brother, who was some yards in 
 advance. 
 
 " Don't you think your Kosinante would be benefitted by a 
 taste of the spur?" 
 
 Oh ! the delight of a sweeping gallop in the open country ! the 
 elate consciousness of strength and liberty, as the magnificent 
 animal beneath you exerts every thew and sinew in obedience to 
 your voice and hand ; you and he together forming one resistless 
 power, free as the rushing air able to overleap or bear down 
 any obstacle ! The jocund tones wafted back by the breeze 
 attested the efficacy of Charley's prescription. 
 
 "That bend hides 'the Castle;'" called out Arthur. 
 
 " I will be the first to see it !" exclaimed Carry, and as the 
 turning was gained, she raised herself from the saddle. It was 
 an unguarded moment ; the horse circled the bend in a run ; 
 and she was thrown directly in the road of the trampling hoofs 
 behind. Charley's horse fell back upon his haunches ; there 
 was giant might in the hand that reined him ; an inch nearer, 
 -nd she was lost! for his fore-feet grazed her shoulder.
 
 ALONE. 115 
 
 My dearest love I" cried the agitated Arthur, raising her in* 
 his arms. " Thank God ! you axe not killed I" 
 
 " I am not hurt, dear Arthur ! you are all so frightened ! it 
 was very careless in me. Indeed I do not require support I 
 am not injured in the least!" 
 
 " Are you sure ?" questioned Ida, anxiously : " or do you say 
 it for our sakes ?" 
 
 " I was never more free from pain. And I am able and ready 
 to go on ?" 
 
 " You were her saviour !" Arthur griped his brother's hand, 
 with a trembling lip. 
 
 " No thanks ! I would not run down a cow or sheep if I could 
 help it." 
 
 Arthur's even temper was tried by this speech, and the more, 
 that it wounded Carry. 
 
 " Coarse ! unfeeling !" thought Ida. She grudged him the 
 eloquent affection of Lynn's glance. "I do not care to go fur- 
 ther j" said she, when Carry was reseated. 
 
 " What ! turn back within sight of the Promised Land ?" said 
 Carry. " Do not cause me to feel that I have spoiled your after- 
 noon's pleasure ! Oscar and I will not part company again so 
 unceremoniously, will we, old fellow ? Allons !" and she shook 
 the reins gaily. The rest followed with reluctance, and for 
 awhile, very soberly. The thought of what might have been 
 the result of the accident, she treated so lightly, precluded jest, 
 and they would not speak of it seriously. By tacit consent, it 
 was not referred to again. Lynn recovered himself first j he 
 forgot everything but the fair domain they were entering ; and 
 his raptures awakened the others to its attractions. The house 
 was a princely pile, rearing its towers from the midst of a finely- 
 wooded park. The architecture was Gothic, and perfect in all 
 its parts, even to the stained windows, imported, at an immense 
 expense, from abroad. A village at the base of the hill, was 
 peopled by the negroes, of whom there were more than an 
 hundred connected with the plantation. The equestrians rode 
 up the single street. Good humour and neatness characterised the 
 simple inhabitants; children drew to one side of the road, with 
 smiles and courtesies ; the aged raised their bleared eyes, to reply 
 to the respectful salutations of the young riders ; through the
 
 116 ALONE. 
 
 open doors were seen clean, comfortably-furnished rooms ;~in 
 most, the tables were spread for the evening meal, and the busy 
 housewives preparing for their husband's return from field or 
 forest. 
 
 " These are thy down-trodden children, Africa !" said Ida, 
 sarcastically. 
 
 Lynn fired up. "They are the happiest beings upon the 
 globe." 
 
 " So far as animal wants are concerned," subjoined Arthur. 
 
 " I do not accept of that clause. They are happy ! They 
 have a kind and generous master ; every comfort in health ; 
 good nursing when ill; their church and Bible, and their 
 Saviour, who is also ours. What the race may become, I do not 
 pretend to say. These are far in advance of the original stock ; 
 but their intellectual appetite is dull, and I dare affirm that in 
 nine cases out of ten it is satisfied. I never knew a master who 
 denied his servants permission to read, and many have them 
 taught by their own children. The slave lies down at night, 
 every want supplied, his family as well cared for as himself; 
 not a thought of to-morrow ! he is secure of a home and mainte- 
 nance, without disturbing himself as to the manner in which it 
 is to be obtained. Can the same be said of the menial classes in 
 any other country under the sun ?" 
 
 " American as ever !" smiled Carry. 
 
 " And Virginian as ever ! The Old Dominion is my mother! 
 he is not a loyal son who does not prefer her, with her infirmi- 
 ties and foibles, to a dozen of the modern < fast ' belle states. 
 The dear old creature has a wrinkle or two that do not improve 
 her comeliness, and adheres somewhat pertinaciously to certain 
 obsolete ideas, but Heaven bless her ! the heart is right and 
 sound !" 
 
 Ida's eyes sparkled 
 
 " ' Where is the coward would not dare 
 To die for such a land !' 
 
 Is not this scenery English, Mr. Holmes ? "We seldom see so 
 large a tract, under as high cultivation, in this quarter of the 
 globe; and where will we find another palace and park like 
 that ?" 
 
 " Mr. Clinton intends to stock the park with deer," said
 
 ALONE. 117 
 
 Arthur. " That will bring before you yet more vividly the 
 t Homes of Merry England/ " 
 
 " If an English landscape, it is an Italian light that gilds it," 
 replied Lynn. " The highlands upon the other side of the river 
 are Scottish ; and the tropical growth of the tobacco fields would 
 not be out of place under the Equator." 
 
 " Shocking your gleanings, then, you return to what Charley 
 calls < the original proposition/ and pronounce it American 
 scenery," concluded Arthur. 
 
 " Precisely. One need not go abroad in quest of natural 
 beauties. The fairest are culled for his native land." 
 
 " What a romantic creek! that is English!" exclaimed Ida. 
 " I have Gr. P. R. James for authority ; a rocky ford ; a steep 
 bank on either side; tangled undergrowth and actually, a 
 rustic foot-bridge ! Oh ! for the solitary horseman !" 
 
 " There he is !" ejaculated Charley, and from the hazel- 
 boughs emerged an old negro, mounted upon a shaggy donkey, 
 a bag of corn behind him. 
 
 " There is but a step, etc.," said Ida, despairingly. It is 
 my fate always to take it." 
 
 With a hearty laugh, they wheeled their horses. Charley and 
 Ida had the lead. Exhilarated by exercise and the scenes 
 through which they had passed, and accustomed to chat fami- 
 liarly with him, she ran on for some time without remarking 
 that she received monosyllabic replies. 
 
 " You are tired," she observed. 
 
 " Not at all." 
 
 " Out of humor, then ?" 
 
 "Do I look so?" 
 
 "Not when you smile; but you are not making yourself 
 agreeable." 
 
 " I did not know that I had ever succeeded in doing so." 
 
 " What ! when Mr. Holmes says you are the only man who is 
 never otherwise I" 
 
 " He is partial. You can teach him better." 
 
 " The intimacy between you two mystifies me more and more. 
 He is all fire and impulse ; you " 
 
 " A galvanised icicle ! Do I freeze you!"
 
 118 ALONE. 
 
 " No. That is most wonderful of all. I am not afraid of you 
 -although I have a cowardly horror of being laughed at." 
 
 " A. ' horror' you should overcome; it proceeds from vanity. 
 Like most of us, you are not apt to do or say things which you 
 consider particularly silly ; and are offended that the public sees 
 them in that light. Lynn is afflicted similarly, in a still greater 
 degree. It will get him into trouble yet." 
 
 " He is too independent to vacillate on account of ridicule," 
 said Ida. 
 
 " Men style the peevish resentment such dispositions exhibit, 
 1 honor,' " returned Charley, with a half bitter emphasis. " It 
 is one of the million misnomers with which they deceive them- 
 selves." 
 
 " Among the number I may place my mistaking conceit for 
 sensibility ?" 
 
 "And concealment of one's feelings for insensibility," he 
 added. 
 
 " You misunderstood me, Mr. Dana. I do not think you 
 have a heart of adamant " 
 
 "But that I have none," he interrupted; his kind glance 
 blunting the edge of his words. " We shall understand each 
 other better by and by. You spoke of James a while ago ; do 
 you like him ?" 
 
 " No. He has two defects which spoil everything he writes, 
 at least to me verbosity and affectation." 
 
 " Not to mention self-plagiarism; but that is a common fault. 
 When an author has exhausted his capital, he had better sus- 
 pend honorably and wait until he has funds in hands to recom- 
 mence operations, than drag on, 'shinning it/ in mercantile 
 phrase, until the reading world dishonors his notes. Instead of 
 this, James, and a score more of our popular writers are palming 
 off upon us, duplicates and re-duplicates of their earliest produc 
 tions. We encounter continually some old acquaintance in a 
 different attire, and under an < alias.' Warmed-over dinners are 
 good enough in their place, but when we pay the same price, we 
 have a right to be dainty. Dickens, himself, is not free from 
 this charge." 
 
 " Oh ! do not say so ! I will not hear a word against him. 
 He says much that seems irrelevant, and occasionally a thing
 
 ALONE. 119 
 
 that is provokingly absurd ; but it is grand to see how, in the 
 denouement, he catches up these floating, apparently useless 
 threads, and weaves them into the fabric. He works with less 
 waste than any light author of the day j all is smooth and firm ; 
 no ragged edges or dropped stitches. And if his charming crea- 
 tions are set before us more than once, they can well bear a 
 renewal of acquaintanceship." 
 
 " But not in a disguise which is less becoming than the dress 
 iu which we first knew them. When we cry < encore/ we ask 
 for a repetition, not an imitation too often a burlesque." 
 
 " But," persisted Ida, warm in defence of her favorite Boz, 
 " where shall we discover new phases of human nature ? The 
 fault is that so many men are copies of others ; we must not 
 censure the painter for lack of originality, who writes above his 
 sketches, < taken from life.' Who ever reads a new love story ? 
 and love is not the only passion which is the same the world 
 over." 
 
 Charley leaned forward to brush a fly from his horse's ear. 
 
 " Are there no peculiarities in your lot ?" he inquired. 
 
 "Perhaps so," she replied, startled by the home-thrust. 
 
 "Your character is not the reflected image of another's; you 
 have never seen one who felt, thought, and acted exactly as you 
 do ; or who would have been your prototype, had your outward 
 circumstances been alike. The Great Original is not a servile 
 copyist." 
 
 The sun's rim was below the horizon, as they passed Lynn's 
 birth-place ; but a parting ray shot through the western gap upon 
 the knoll the solitary bright spot in the landscape. They went 
 rapidly by ; but Ida was grateful that his recollection of it should 
 be linked with that fragrant eve, and gleaming farewell smile. 
 
 " It is singular that in our rides we should not have taken 
 this road before," said Charley. " It is, just here, a mere bridle 
 path, but I thought we had scoured the country." 
 
 " Did you know Mr. Holmes when he lived there ?" 
 
 " No. He was fourteen years old when we met at school." 
 
 " The homestead is a pitiable wreck," continued Ida. < A 
 lonely tree and a desolated hearth !' he said. Those mournful 
 words will haunt me." 
 
 "His is a sad story. His parents died within a month of
 
 120 ALONE. 
 
 each other one by the hand of violence, the other of a broken 
 heart. He had lost a sister previously ; a year later his brother 
 went to sea, and ship nor passengers reached the port. It is 
 now three years since the death of a younger sister, a lovely girl, 
 of consumption. This train of misfortunes hangs upon Lynn's 
 mind and heart. He will have it that he belongs to a doomed 
 race. But for his warm social sympathies, and devotion to his 
 art, the superstition would become a monomania." 
 
 " You say his father died by violence ; was he murdered ?" 
 
 " In cold blood." 
 
 " Horrible ! And the assassin ?" 
 
 "Walks the earth, an TionouraUe man ! The sword of justice 
 has no point for the duellist." 
 
 "This heathenish practice is a disgraceful stain upon the 
 escutcheon of our State/' said Ida. " The laws are not in fault ; 
 popular prejudice does not sustain them." 
 
 "If they would make me autocrat for one year I would 
 pledge myself to abolish this system of double murdering/' 
 returned he. 
 
 "How?" 
 
 " Hang the survivor " 
 
 "What naughty words are you saying?" questioned Lynn, 
 from Ida's elbow. 
 
 " A slip of the tongue, which Miss Ida would not have noticed, 
 but for your officiousness/' answered Charley. " Did I tell you 
 of Art.'s professional call last night ? We were awakened by 
 an uproarious hallooing at the gate. 
 
 < Who's there ?' hailed Arthur. 
 
 " ( doctor ! for massy's sake, come to see my old woman ! 
 she's dyin' I'm Jeemes Stiger make haste I reckon she's 
 most done dead by this time/ and the poor fellow blubbered 
 out. 
 
 " < I'll be there in a minute/ said Art. < Don't wait.' 
 
 " In three minutes and a half his horse's hoofs were clattering 
 down the road, as though Tarn O'Shanter's witch were upon the 
 crupper. I had confidence in his skill, and did not doubt he 
 would try whatever could relieve 'Mrs. Jeemes Stiger/ but it was 
 a ticklish case ; the entire contents of his saddle-bags could not 
 rescue her from the jaws of death, if he had indeed clamped her.
 
 ALONE. 121 
 
 I had resolved to postpone compassion for the bereaved husband, 
 to the morning, and was forgetting everything in a doze, when 
 the trampling of a horse aroused me. I threw up the window. 
 It was Art., in as hot haste as when he set out. ' What is to 
 pay ?' said I, as he came in. ' Forgotten any thing or is tb.e 
 woman dead?' 
 
 t Confound her !' 
 
 " I knew he must be pretty ' tall' to say that. 
 
 " ' Never be a doctor, Charley.' 
 
 " ' I wont, my dear boy ; but what is the matter ? 
 
 "'Why nothing just nothing!' beginning to laugh. 'I 
 galloped two miles like a race-rider, and ran into the house, 
 expecting a scene of distress perhaps of death. < Mrs. Jeemes' 
 was sitting up, rocking herself back and forth. I felt her pulse 
 and inquired her symptoms/ 
 
 " ' You we/ stuttered Stiger, ' she's been sort o' poorly and 
 droopy for three weeks, and better. I've been 'lotting to go for 
 you, but thought maybe she mought be able to pick up after 
 awhile. To-night I was so hungry myself that I didn't notice 
 her at supper. She was mighty poking all the evenin', and jest 
 now, s!i waked me. 'Jeemes/ says she, ' when folks' appetites 
 gives u\t, they dies don't they ?' 
 
 < Tss, honey/ says I. 
 
 "'Then farewell/ says she; 'I'm a-goin'. I wouldn't say 
 no'A'o' about it at first, but I couldn't die without tellin' you I 
 m.r i-departinV 
 
 ' ' 0, Susan !' says I; 'how come you to think you are dyin'. 
 
 " ' Jeemes,' says she, solemn as could be ; ' I couldn't eat no 
 * upper, 'cept one herring and a pone of bread, and one cup of 
 Coffee.' 
 
 ' Doctor ! you think she'll live 'till day ? Oh ! if I had 
 i-gone for you three weeks ago !' "* 
 
 " ' When shall we all meet again ?' " 
 said Lynn that night, at the hour for separation. 
 
 "At Christmas, probably next summer, certainly/'^ replied 
 Arthur's cheerful voice. 
 
 " We have been too happy together to hope for a repetition 
 
 * Fact. 
 11
 
 122 ALONE. 
 
 of the pleasure," said Ida. "Two such summers would be 
 more than falls to the share of most mortals." 
 
 " If we never meet again in this life, we shall see each other 
 somewhere at the end of the turnpike/' observed Charley. 
 
 Sad as were the feelings of the little company, they smiled at 
 his tone and action. 
 
 "Hush, Charley! I am petitioning Ida for a song," said 
 Carry. " One of your own, my dear. We like no other so 
 well. Just one more, that I may fancy I hear whenever I enter 
 this room." 
 
 "A parting lay from our Improvisatriee," entreated Dr. 
 Carleton. 
 
 Her voice was uncertain and low, but she sang the simple 
 ballad with a pathos, that brought the moisture to the eyes of 
 more than one of her auditors. 
 
 : 'Away with thoughts of sadness, love! 
 
 I will be gay to-night ! 
 I would awhile indulge the hopes, 
 
 To-morrow's sun will blight. 
 Oh ! once again, our favorite song!, 
 
 Together let us sing ; 
 And thus forget the wailing strain 
 To-morrow's eve will bring. 
 Away with thoughts of sadness, lovo I 
 I must be gay to-night ! 
 
 : ' Alas ! 'tis vain ! we who have loved 
 
 So long and well, must part ! 
 The smile has faded from my cheek 
 
 The gladness from my heart. 
 And since at this, our sad farewell, 
 For months, perchance, for years, 
 We cannot join in blithesome lay, 
 Oh ! let us mingle tears ! 
 Away with thoughts of gladness, love! 
 For I must weep to-night 1"
 
 ALONE. 123 
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 "I'M very lonely now, Carry! and weary, and wakeful and 
 home-sick. You and your home have spoiled me ; my heart has 
 been enlarged, only to aggravate the old empty feeling; you 
 have disabled me for the life I must lead here. < Discouraged 
 already !' I hear you say. ' Did you not promise to be good and 
 patient?' I am not like you, I cannot love, unless I am beloved; 
 and had I your warm, open heart, it would be but attempting to 
 heat Nova Zembla with a foot-stove. Hear, before you reproach. 
 Our journey was pleasant. The children behaved & merveille ; 
 your sister was as she always is tender and motherly, (you 
 know what that last means from me !) and the conduct of our 
 gallant outriders was above praise. Leaving Mrs. Dana at her 
 door, Lynn and Charley escorted me up-town. With their 
 'good nights/ and promises to see me again soon, connection 
 with Poplar-grove was severed. My former self I told you 
 how it would be ! was waiting for me inside the hall-door. I 
 was as little changed in the eyes of Mr. Read and his daughter, 
 as they were in mine. The first-named was upon his etiquette 
 stilts; and Josephine's fingers, as I touched them, were as limp 
 and warm as the digits of a frozen frog. (Vide Charley.) I 
 remembered you and my promise, and made a tremendous effort. 
 < You are looking so well, that I will not inquire whether your 
 trip was as delightful as you anticipated ;' to the daughter. 
 
 " < We spent our time agreeably;' dryly. 
 
 " < Were the waters of Saratoga beneficial to you, sir ?' to the 
 father. 
 
 " 'My health required no improvement;' stiffly, and with a 
 smack of offended dignity. But this is wrong, Carry ! The air 
 of this house must warp my sense of right. While under their 
 roof, I should not ridicule them. There was pleasure in the sad- 
 ness of last night last night ! it seems a century since I There 
 is no bright thread in the sombre web I am weaving now ! I 
 look forward with a sinking spirit. This winter will bring me 
 trials which you may not appreciate. Josephine and myself
 
 124 ALONE. 
 
 will ever remain antagonistic ; not that I am quarrelsome ; I 
 detest strife. I am sick of this eternal sparring and heart- 
 burning; but I am no dissembler; and I foresee many contests; 
 perhaps as many defeats, for cool audacity is more than a match 
 for hot blood like mine. Our characters will come into play 
 upon a wider stage than heretofore, and should we close in com- 
 bat there, the struggle will be fearful. I am willing, thanks 
 to you! to sacrifice prejudice, not principle or self-respect. 
 Three long, dreary months before I can hope to see you ! I 
 fear to think how wicked I may become in that time. Rich- 
 mond is, to me, a Sahara, whose single fountain of sweet waters 
 springs up within your sister's home. Those, who, within a few 
 months, were unknown, are nearer than acquaintances of years' 
 standing. Poor Rachel stands by, waiting to undress me, her 
 face as long as mine. < Ah ! Miss Ida ! this ain't Dr. Carleton's !' 
 She does not realise how painfully conscious I am of that fact. 
 I can hardly say why I have written this incoherent note; 
 except, that I am dispirited, and thirst to talk to you. Forgive 
 my unhappy egotism ! I cannot ask you to respond to emotions 
 which never swell your gentle bosom. To your best of fathers, 
 present my warmest regards. I owe him a debt I cannot repay. 
 And to him, dear Carry, whose image blends with yours, in my 
 dreams of the future ; the only man I know, to whom I could 
 willingly resign you, give a sister's love. The strongest proof 
 of my affection is, that I am not jealous. Good night ! and a 
 blessing, my dearest ! If your rest will be the sweeter for know- 
 ing that to another, than him, you make life lovely, believe it ! 
 
 As ever, yours, 
 
 IDA." 
 
 " I saw Mr. Lacy upon the street, to-day," remarked Mr. 
 Read, he next evening at supper. 
 
 "Ah!" said Josephine, delightedly. "Did you speak with 
 him?" 
 
 "Yes; he stopped me to apologise for having delayed calling 
 until this time. He is studying law with Mr. L. ; and has little 
 leisure for visiting so he says." 
 
 " Did you inquire after his sister's health ?" 
 
 " No. You had better do so, if he calls this evening. He 
 asked whether you would be at home."
 
 
 ALONE. 125 
 
 Josephine coloured with pleasure ; and Ida was curious to see 
 one who had inspired them with such respect and admiration; 
 for through Mr. Read's assumed carelessness, it was easy to 
 discover that he was flattered by the promised visit. She 
 gathered from their conversation that they had met Mr. Lacy 
 at the Springs, whither he had gone with an invalid sister. As 
 Virginians, they attached themselves to the Read party, "the 
 party of the season/' so Josephine unblushingly asserted. 
 
 Too proud to go into the drawing-room, without an invitation, 
 Ida went to her chamber, to spend the hours between supper and 
 bed-time, in reading. 
 
 " Miss Josephine must 'spect her beau ; she's mightily fined 
 off," commented Rachel, when she came up from her meal. I 
 said so ! thar's the door-bell ! Ain't you going down, Miss 
 Ida?" 
 
 " No '" not withdrawing her eyes from her book. 
 
 "You aint a school-girl now, Miss Ida," Rachel remon- 
 strated. 
 
 Well and if I am not ?" 
 
 " "Why, young ladies ought to see company. I can't bear for 
 you to be hiding up here, just like you was an edict or performed ; 
 and Miss Josephine, who aint nigh so pretty, nor good, for that 
 matter, is stealing all the beaux." 
 
 " In other words, my good Rachel, you want me to get 
 married." 
 
 " Yes ma'am," said Rachel boldly ; If you come across any 
 body to suit you, I'd a heap rather you'd be his wife, than to 
 stay here to be pecked at and worried." 
 
 " I am not easily worried ; I am my own mistress, and 
 restrained by no one." 
 
 "Your own mistis', Miss Ida! Don't I see you sittin' at 
 table, and in the parlor, never opening your mouth to say 
 nothin' ; and aint you cooped up here in this chamber, because 
 Miss Josephine aint got politeness enough to ask you down ? 
 and after they've been making as much of you at Dr. Carleton's 
 as if you had been the Queen of Sheby ! Miss Carry is a lady 
 worth talking about, and so is Miss Jenny none of your turned 
 up nose, poor white folksy sort. I wish you could get into the 
 fani'ly," she added, slyly. 
 
 11*
 
 126 ALONE. 
 
 Ida read on in silence. 
 
 " The bell agin !" muttered Rachel, fretfully. I don't know 
 what they're coming for. If they knowed as much as we ser- 
 vants, they'd as soon jam their fingers into a steel-trap. What 
 do you want ?" she said, snappishly to the footman who knocked 
 at the door. 
 
 " Two gentlemen to see Miss Ross Mr. Dana and Mr 
 Holmes." 
 
 " I'll tell her ;" she returned, greatly mollified. " Now, Miss 
 Ida, don't scare them off with no solemn looks and talk. Do 
 just like you did at Miss Carry's; and 'bove all things, don't 
 let Miss Josephine cut you out I" 
 
 We trust to the reader's good-nature to excuse the unfair use 
 which Rachel made of the back parlor window. The affection- 
 ate curiosity that prompted her to " peep at Miss Ida, as she 
 made her manners," was gratified by seeing her receive her visi- 
 tors with as mucli affability as if Carry, instead of Miss Read, 
 were present. As Rachel surmised, the latter had a beau; and 
 Ida's hasty survey excited a feeling of surprise. He looked and 
 moved the gentleman ; but although he arose with the others, 
 and remained standing, Josephine did not introduce him. 
 
 Charley's presence of mind prevented embarrassment. 
 
 " I beg pardon, Morton ; I thought you knew Miss Ross 
 Miss Ida, my friend, Mr. Lacy." 
 
 This assumption of the duties of host at a first call would have 
 been inexcusable in most cases. Josephine understood it, as it 
 was meant, as a severe rebuke for her negligence or ill-breeding. 
 
 The " my friend," too, nettled her. Mr. Lacy had presented 
 the gentlemen to her when they came in, and had spoken to 
 Charley as an old acquaintance, but what right had this stranger 
 to insinuate, that, as his friend, Ida had a title to her " pro- 
 perty ?" She almost forgave him, however, when she found that, 
 for the present, he was n&t disposed to push his advantage. He 
 left her to the most delightful tete-a-tete ; turned his back quite 
 upon her, and addressed himself to Ida. She would have 
 pocketed a dozen insults an evening to sit upon the same sofa with 
 Morton Lacy, to read devotion in his speaking eyes, and hear 
 love's music in every cadence of his voice. She was in Elysium 
 with but one drawback upon her felicity. The group across
 
 ALONE. 127 
 
 the room were maliciously unobservant of the tableau her high- 
 born looking suitor, so lover-like as he bent his proud head to 
 catch the words that melted like honey-dew upon her lips; and 
 herself with falling lids, as though she feared he might see more 
 in the modest eyes than maiden coyness would have him know 
 they must notice them, and seeing, Ida must be expiring with 
 envy, and the gentlemen regret, while they envied, that they 
 were too late to compete for the prize. It is not often that the 
 truth is as sweet as the darling fictions we dream to ourselves, 
 and on this occasion, assuredly, the reality would have rendered 
 wormwood palatable in comparison ; for the trio of friends were 
 unaffectedly engrossed with each other, and stupidly ignorant ot 
 the duett played near them. 
 
 " Jenny sent her love to you," said Charley ; " she will call 
 shortly. She complains of being tired out with the labor of rec- 
 tifying the disorders of John's bachelor establishment. She 
 treated us, at tea, to a summary of his domestic economy. 
 Half of the time, he forgot to go to market, and wondered at 
 the want of variety in the fare. The cook was consulted, and 
 hinted at the cause. The ensuing day, he laid in provisions for 
 a week, particularly of such commodities as frugal housewives 
 do not care to have on hand in hot weather. He bought a pair 
 of parlor lamps. < You wished to surprise me by this handsome 
 present, I suppose/ said Jenny. 
 
 " ' Why no I should not have purchased them if the old 
 ones had not been worn out/ said he. 
 
 " < Worn out ! when we have not had them six months !' 
 
 " < Yes !' answered he, positively. ' They would not burn 
 went out as fast as I lighted them ; and worse than that, the 
 
 new ones have got into the same way. I complained to W , 
 
 and he said they were the best he had.' 
 
 " ' Very odd !' said Jenny, unscrewing one of the lamps. 
 Why, Mr. Dana ! there is no oil in it ! Have they been filled 
 regularly ?' 
 
 " < Never thought of it once !' exclaimed John, foolishly. 
 
 " See how useless marrying makes a man ! 
 
 "Bather, how comfortless he is without a wife/' responded 
 Ida. " As respects order and management in household mat- 
 ters, I have an idea that you bachelors are not much superior to 
 the Tartars."
 
 128 ALONE. 
 
 " Say on a par with the Hottentots, and you will be nearer 
 the truth ;" said Lynn. " Nothing can be well-done that is 
 unnatural. Not one man in a hundred has a talent for house- 
 keeping; some acquire a smattering of the science, and make 
 themselves ridiculous by an offensive display of it. Their wives 
 should rig them in kitchen aprons, set them to rolling out pie- 
 crust, and officiate as their substitutes in the shop, office, or 
 counting-room. There is a loud hue and cry after ' strong- 
 minded women ;' who says any thing about weak-minded men?" 
 
 " You do not consider that the feebler intellect belongs of 
 necessity, to the feebler body, do you ?" asked Charley. 
 
 " Not I ! Do away with this absurd antipathy to clever 
 women; give them our advantages of education, and they will 
 outshine us mentally, as they do morally. The mind of a woman 
 is a wonderful thing; like the scimetar of Saladin, it cuts 
 through, at a single stroke what our clumsy blades have hacked 
 at in vain. Light, graceful, delicate it does not lack power 
 because it has beauty." 
 
 "It is very pleasant to listen to agreeable speeches, even 
 when we know them to be flattery," said Ida ; " I acquit you of 
 insincerity, Mr. Holmes I perceive that Mr. Dana sides with 
 you but permit me to say, that I know more of the mental 
 calibre of my sex than either of you. To a certain point, we 
 can rival you successfully like the hare and tortoise we run 
 well for a time, and laugh at your plodding ; but we have not 
 the taste or ability to bear you company to the^-goal. As well 
 compare the bounding flight of the lark to the heaven-ward sweep 
 of the eagle. We cannot reason we are persuaded because we 
 feel that a truth exists for our lives, we could not tell you why 
 we believe." 
 
 " And this is an argument to establish your inferiority !" 
 exclaimed Lynn. " Where is the- use of reasoning ? I would 
 trust a true woman's intuition in preference to all the systems 
 of logic and induction, the blundering, lumbering brain of man 
 has built. Do not depreciate this angelic faculty, Miss Ida ; you 
 hold it in common with higher intelligences." 
 
 " Yes ! I doubt if Gabriel bothers his head with syllogisms or 
 logarithms," said Charley. Two to one Miss Ida give up!" 
 
 Men are inconsistent creatures," said she. " They will have
 
 ALONE. 129 
 
 it we are their superiors, exhaust dictionaries and their imagi- 
 nations to load us with exalted epithets; and behave, as though 
 we were children, to be coaxed with sugar-plums. An angel in 
 theory, the corporeal woman is soundly rated if dinner is late, 
 or a room unswept. We are * akin to higher intelligences/ 
 but let one presume to measure lances with a lord of creation in 
 a conflict of minds, and how quickly is she assailed by the hoots 
 of her professed adorers ! You will allege that she has stepped 
 out of her sphere. Granted but according to your belief, she 
 has stooped to your level, and you should be grateful for the 
 grace. Is it so ? ' The ladith are divine, tho long ath they 
 don't meddle with thubjects above their comprehenthion / lisps 
 the dandy whose organs of speech serve to distinguish him from 
 a marmoset; and wise doctors of law and medicine and divinity, 
 read us homilies upon the modesty, the humility, the submis- 
 siveness of the softer sex, and recommend St. Paul to our dili- 
 gent perusal. We are not cherubim, nor yet slaves; not your 
 superiors ; and in mind are far from being your equals ; but we 
 do hold that we are, or ought to be qualified for your companions j 
 and that your happiness and ours would be enhanced if you 
 would throw sentimental nonsense overboard, and take this prac- 
 tical, every day view of the case." 
 
 " Let a lady alone for making her side good !" said Charley. 
 <' W^'ll call it square, and quit which Lynn will inform you, 
 is a cowardly way of acknowledging ourselves beaten. I never 
 argued with one of you yet, that I was not glad to sneak off in 
 five minutes after the first broadside." 
 
 " Their right makes their might /' observed Lynn, gallantly. 
 
 (c And their invincible obstinacy/' returned Charley. " That 
 is not just the word it is a certain never-give-up-able-ness, 
 vexatiously delightful, which precipitates one into a rage and 
 love, at the same time he is divided between his disposition to 
 kneel to, and to shoot her !" 
 
 " Are you tempted to murder me ?" inquired Ida. 
 
 " Not at all. It is a peculiarity in the female disposition, 
 she can't help it to cry ' scissors' to the last." 
 
 I do not comprehend." 
 
 "Did you never hear the < tailor's wife and scissors ?'" 
 
 A story of your own coinage ?" asked Lynn.
 
 130 ALONE. 
 
 " No un authentic narrative. A tailor having amassed a 
 fortune by his trade, cut the shop and removed to the country, 
 to live in dignified leisure. His wife was a bit of a shrew, and 
 apt, as all wives are, to find out her husband's weak points. 
 One of these was a shame of his former occupation, and she 
 harped upon the jarring string, until the poor wretch was nearly 
 beside himself. Her touch-word, < scissors/ spoiled his finest 
 bon mots, and embittered his grandest entertainment it was 
 flame to tow. He stormed and wheedled, threatened and bribed,,; 
 the obnoxious instrument was constantly brandished before his 
 eyes. They were walking, one day, on the bank of a river, 
 bounding his grounds, 1 1 have displayed extraordinary taste 
 in the selection of this estate/ remarked he, ' Its owner should 
 have judgment, as well as wealth. You observe the Delta formed 
 by the fork of the 'river. Its beauty decided me to close the 
 contract/ 
 
 " Very probable, my dear, it reminds one so much of an 
 open pair of scissors !' 
 
 " One push and she was struggling in the water. 
 
 " < I will pull you out, if you promise never to say that word 
 again !' halloed the still foaming husband. 
 
 " ' Scissors !' screeched she. and down she went. 
 
 " ' Scissors !' as she arose again. The third time, she came 
 to the surface, too far gone to speak but as the waters closed 
 over her, she threw up her arms, crossing her fore fingers thus 
 and disappeared." 
 
 Ida laughed her rich, musical laugh, which awoke strange 
 echoes in those formal rooms. Mr. Bead's portrait frowned down 
 from its niche, and Josephine raised her brows with an air of 
 astonishment, which would have been contempt, had she not 
 been upon the amiable at the time. Another started too, but 
 with a different expression. Few who saw Morton Lacy smile, 
 forgot it. It was not a superficial illumination, but a flashing 
 through of an inward light, as might play upon the surface of a 
 gem-bedded stream, could the sun strike upon its concealed 
 wealth. 
 
 " We seldom hear a sound like that, in this age of affectation /' 
 said he, to Josephine. 
 
 " She will learn better/' she replied. " She is just from her
 
 ALONE. 131 
 
 books, and rather eccentric in some of her ways and notions. I 
 rally her daily upon her little oddities, but she is wilful, a? 
 spoiled children will be, and being older, and more clever than 
 myself, out-argues me. The main point of disagreement is that 
 she is fond of liberty of speech and action, declares Die Vernon 
 her beau ideal of a woman, and I am prudish in my reserve." 
 
 " Not prudish feminine I" he answered, emphatically. la 
 she a relative ?" 
 
 " No : a ward of my father's." 
 
 " An orphan !" with a remorseful pity, for which Josephine 
 could have blasted Ida as she sat. 
 
 " She does not feel her situation so keenly as a sensitive person 
 would. Those are happiest whose wounds heal soonest, to 
 whom a life-time grief is unknown. I am thankful that Ida's 
 temperament is mercurial she is spared much suffering ;" and 
 her voice trembled admirably, as she lifted her eyes to a portrait 
 above the mantel. Another adroit hit ! the base brought out 
 the ring of the genuine metal. 
 
 There are, indeed, losses, which, in an earthly sense, are 
 irreparable, and although I know nothing personally of such a 
 bereavement, I can understand that the shadow of a mother's 
 tonib grows darker and longer, as the child walks on in the path 
 her care would have smoothed." 
 
 " Especially to an orphaned girl; each day has wants and 
 exigencies she had not thought of before. Yet who knows the 
 pains of her lot ?" said Josephine, sighing. 
 
 " 'Few are the hearts whence one same touch, 
 Bids the sweet fountains flow !' " 
 
 repeated Mr. Lacy. " Have you learned that song, according 
 
 to promise ?" 
 
 " I always keep my promises." 
 
 " May I demand the proof that this one was remembered." 
 
 The piece in question lay suspiciously near the top of the 
 
 portfolio, although she protested that she had " only played it 
 
 over once, and a fortnight ago." 
 
 " It is set as a duett ; will not your friend sing with you ?" 
 " I don't know;" shaking her head, smilingly. She is chary 
 
 of her favors all good singers are. Perhaps she will not refuse 
 
 you-^ask her, please ! It will be such an improvement !"
 
 182 ALONE. 
 
 Thus importuned, Mr. Lacy went up to Ida, and preferred his 
 request. 
 
 " Excuse me, sir, I am not familiar with the music ;" said 
 she, surprised that Josephine had despatched him upon such an 
 embassy, when her jealousy of Ida's superiority as a vocalist, 
 had been the cause of innumerable slights and petty meannesses 
 from herself and father. 
 
 " Now ! be obliging, Ida !" she interposed, " you sing at sight 
 better than I do, after a year's practising." 
 
 " I am sorry to appear disobliging, Mr. Lacy;" pursued Ida; 
 and she spoke sincerely, as she met his smile; "but you would 
 not thank me for ruining your song." 
 
 " Oh ! how can you say so !" exclaimed Josephine. " Mr. 
 Dermott called you a second Malibran ; or was it Sappho ?" 
 
 To Mr. Lacy, this was coaxingly playful ; but the fiery spot 
 came to Ida's cheek, at words, which had been piped over, and 
 distorted, until malice itself must be weary of repeating them. 
 
 " I beg you to consider my refusal as final and positive ;" she 
 said, haughtily. Mr. Lacy bowed, with dignity, and returned 
 to Josephine. 
 
 "Am I, also, to be refused?" asked Lynn, as Josephine 
 picked out a third song. " You will not suspect me of empty 
 compliments." 
 
 "Not for you, will I sing now and here!" said Ida. "Be 
 sure I have my reasons for objecting to give you pleasure." 
 
 " Be quiet, Lynn ! she means what she says ;" interrupted 
 Charley, as his friend persisted. Lynn obeyed, but his black 
 eyes went from the face of the speaker, to Ida's compressed lips, 
 until they darted an angry light upon Josephine, showing that 
 he had an inkling of the truth. 
 
 " This is the beginning!" said Ida, as she knelt at her window 
 to gain tranquillity from the cool and stillness of the night. The 
 moon neared the horizon ; the roof-tops contrasted brightly with 
 the shade of the street ; and one lofty spire pointed a snowy 
 finger upward, the golden trumpet upon its taper extremity 
 silvered by the pale rays. It was a " sweet south" that bore up 
 the lullaby our beautiful river sings nightly to her myriads of 
 sleeping children; but as the girl gazed and listened, inquietude, 
 instead of peace, had possession of her the nameless longing
 
 ALONE. 133 
 
 that makes mortals weep and strive, and die ! that burning 
 craving for something they cannot, tell what except that 
 earth does not bestow it, and the spirit will not rest without it. 
 It may be, angel-teachers are with us, awakening a desire for, 
 rather than imparting knowledge, which is their food, and can 
 alone satisfy our immortal minds or our young souls are flut- 
 tering their unfledged wings, restless for the flight, instinct 
 tells them is before them we know not only that the thirst 
 is fierce maddening ! and there is but one fountain which 
 quenches it. The river's song should have summoned up the 
 vision of those living waters, and their wooing, " Let him that 
 is athirst come I" and the white spire had its silent gesture no 
 significance ? 
 
 Ida's thoughts did not rise. A painful truth had that night 
 obtruded itself upon her, that the love of those she esteemed 
 most, had not strengthened her to bear the trials incident to 
 her position. With Carry at her side, to defend and console, 
 many a shaft would have fallen harmless, perchance, unre- 
 marked; in her absence, the certainty of her affection did 
 not render Josephine's malevolence innocuous, or her society 
 endurable. 
 
 " I was not born for this life ! I do not breathe in the pent- 
 house in which they would immure my soul. I cannot escape ! 
 I am virtually a prisoner in body and spirit with energies, 
 which must not act affections, which must not flow ! I thirst 
 for liberty and love !" 
 
 Lower and lower dipped the moon and higher mounted the 
 shade upon the steeple the golden trumpet was glistenless as 
 the rest, and the stars only kept guard over the slumbering city, 
 and the watcher knelt still dreaming now love-dreams of appre- 
 ciation and devotion trances, almost realities in their passionate 
 idealization \ and then, as they cloyed by their very sweetness 
 or the real and the present would burst upon her, crying in 
 anguished accents, I thirst 1" 
 12
 
 134 ALONE. 
 
 CHAPTER XI]. 
 
 JOSEPHINE READ gave a party her fir&t, and the first of 
 the season ; an onerous undertaking for a young, and compara- 
 tively inexperienced house-keeper ; but she went about it bravely 
 and confidently. She did not overrate her capacity ; if she had a 
 talent for anything, it was for housewifery "driving" included. 
 If her domestic machinery did not work well, it was not for lack 
 of scolding; and, it was rumored, not because more stringent 
 measures were not employed by her own fair hands. 
 
 " Miss Josephine flies about the kitchen like a pea 'pon a hot 
 shovel ;" said Rachel, the day before that for which the rest of 
 the week was made. " It's 'sprising how much spring she's got 
 in that little body of hern, and how much spite too, if you'll 
 'low me to say it, Miss Ida." 
 
 " I certainly shall not," said Ida, severely. " I do not care 
 to hear your remarks upon her now, or at any time. They are 
 neither respectful or becoming." 
 
 " Law ! Miss Ida ! you know Miss Josephine as well as I do ; 
 what harm does my talking do ? I was goin' to tell you, that I 
 thought I should a' died laughin' to see how mad she was, when 
 Joe dropped the big cake she sent to the confectionaries to have 
 iced. Her face turned red as them curtains, and soon as she 
 could move, she pulled off her shoe, and gave him such a lick 
 ; pon the side of his head, I'll bound he seed stars !" 
 
 " Are your preparations concluded ?" asked Mr. Read, that 
 night. 
 
 " I believe so, sir." 
 
 " < You believe so !' why can't you give a direct answer ? I 
 hate this mincing you women think so pretty. Are you ready I" 
 
 " The table is not set," said Josephine, provokingly, " and 
 the jellies and creams are not turned into the dishes yet." 
 
 What will this tomfoolery cost ?" barked her father. 
 
 I don't know, sir what other people's parties do." 
 
 You are wonderfully independent, young woman ! you intend 
 to foot the bills I hope."
 
 ALONE. 135 
 
 No answer, except a bar of a popular air, hummed, while 
 trying on a head-dress. 
 
 " Whom have you invited ?" 
 
 " There is the list you can read it." 
 
 He looked at it surlily. " How many rooms do you open ?" 
 
 " The parlors and dining room ; unless you prefer to have 
 the dressing-rooms in the third story, and give up your chamber 
 to the dancers." 
 
 Have the goodness to leave me out of the scrape. I shall 
 go to bed directly after supper. You two may do your husband 
 hunting without my help. I pity the man who gets either of 
 you." 
 
 " Since you are so much opposed to this party, I will recall 
 my invitations to-morrow morning," retorted Josephine, irritated 
 by his peevish vulgarity, to take a high stand herself. 
 
 " You will not, Miss! Carry out what you have commenced 
 much joy may you have of it !" 
 
 What pleasure or benefit could arise from this snarling con- 
 tradiction, would have defied a wiser brain than Ida's to deter- 
 mine. She once imagined it a part of Mr. Read's schooling ; 
 that he sought to inure his pupil to the treatment she would 
 receive from the world ; but this impression was corrected by 
 observing that the effrontery he had taught her angered him 
 beyond measure, when exhibited towards himself. Variance 
 appeared to be necessary to their existence ; a safety-valve, foi 
 the ill humors they could not throw out upon others. It was a 
 curious fact that their going into company, at home or abroad, 
 was invaribly preceded by this moral phlebotomizing, and in 
 proportion to the extent of the depletion, was the subsequent 
 affability. It was therefore to be expected that they should 
 appear in the drawing-room on the evening of the party, looking 
 their best ; she, deferentially respectful to " Papa," and he, 
 marking " my daughter, sir's," motions with paternal pride. A 
 large party usually belongs to one of two classes the stiffly 
 regular, or the noisily irregular. At the former, there is con- 
 siderably less sociability and ease than is prevalent among a 
 corps of raw recruits upon parade, under the eye of a martinet 
 drilled serjeant. As many as can obtain seats, seize them; a 
 vacant chair is rushed for, as in the game of " budge-all," and
 
 136 ALONE. 
 
 the hapless standers are awkwardly alive to the circumstance of 
 being, not men, but hands, legs and feet; white kid gloves are 
 at a premium, a bouquet is a godsend ; the pulling off and on 
 of the first, and the criticism of the latter, are engrossing subjects 
 of reflection and entertainment. There are knots of men in t;he 
 entry, and in the corners, and behind doors ; and rows of ladies 
 against the wall, and stretched out transversely and longitudinally 
 through the room. Supper over, watches are slyly consulted, 
 yawns dexterously swallowed, and presently the crowd is thinner, 
 though no one goes. Then come whispered adieux ; " so sorry 
 to quit your charming party at this early hour, but papa 
 charged me to be home by twelve, and he is so particular ;" and 
 " my dear Mrs. Heavyaslead, I must tear myself away mamma 
 was not well to-night ; I am quite uneasy about her ;" and 
 there are headaches and sideaches, and toothaches, until the 
 poor hostess wonders that she never suspected before what an 
 unhealthy circle of acquaintances she has. 
 
 At a gathering of the second class, everybody knows every- 
 body else, or gets acquainted off-hand, with or without an 
 introduction. The company are, to a man, in favor of a stand- 
 ing army. Except a small number of chairs, over which are 
 carefully trained the confirmed wall-flowers, seats are voted in 
 the way; each joke is capital; each laugh a scream. Girls 
 rattle and coquet, and gentlemen bow and flatter; you stumble 
 upon a flirtation at every step, and cannot tread upon a boot or 
 corn without cutting a gallant speech in the middle ; time pieces 
 are put back two or three hours, and ostentatiously showed 
 around, to prove that there is time enough yet." Morning 
 breaks, ere the revellers unwillingly depart, and Mr. and Mrs. 
 Cricketspry hear, for six months after, of the " splendid time we 
 had at your party." 
 
 Miss Read's soiree promised to be of the first-named order. 
 A large proportion of her guests were strangers to each other, 
 and she had not the tact to amalgamate the mixture. A hostess 
 must be impartial; the safest course is to ignore the object of 
 her preference, even at the risk of being misunderstood ; better 
 offend one, than an hundred. Josephine made no such heroic 
 sacrifice. She had invited Mr. Lacy ; the rest were there to 
 see, and they were not backward to discern this. She had twice
 
 ALONE. 137 
 
 made the circuit of the rooms upon his arm, and stood for half 
 an hour between the folding-doors, in conversation, that, so far 
 as her efforts went, was confidential, when her father touched 
 her shoulder. " Are we to have no dancing, Josey ?" 
 
 "If my friends desire it certainly! Mr. Pemberton" as 
 that individual frisked by, "Do me the favor to act as master 
 of ceremonies, and form a set." 
 
 " With pleasure, Miss Josephine, provided I am honored by 
 your hand for the dance I mean j" tickled to excess by his 
 witty clause. 
 
 The hateful puppy ! but there was no retreat. Had Mr. Lacy 
 been out of earshot, she would have pleaded an engagement, so 
 certain was she that he would ask her, but she could not utter so 
 palpable a falsehood in his hearing. She did hope that he would 
 interfere, and with the inimitable self-possession which distin- 
 guished him, open an avenue of escape by implying, if not 
 asserting his right of priority ; but he was silent, and she yielded 
 an ungracious assent. Mr. Pemberton was a boasted adept in 
 the art of " cutting out" a system of counter-plotting, too well 
 understood to need explanation here ; and as he bustled around, 
 officious and fussy, he circulated, as the latest and best joke," an 
 account of his cunning in " heading off that chap, Lacy." 
 
 " Are you fond of this amusement?" inquired the latter of 
 Josephine. 
 
 " Passionately I" said she, brightening up at this, as she 
 thought, prefatory remark. The next was still more promising. 
 
 " You will not stop at a single set then ?" 
 
 " Oh, no ! I often keep the floor for hours. It is a health- 
 ful and innocent exercise. I had rather dance than spend the 
 evening in gossiping after the fashion of the strait-laced sort, 
 who are conscientiously opposed to ' wordly follies.' " 
 
 Mr. Lacy smiled, a little queerly. It was evident that he 
 agreed with her, in her estimate of these over-scrupulous wor- 
 thies. Still, the coveted request did not arrive, and she tossed 
 out a desperate feeler. 
 
 " You do not think it undignified to dance, do you ?" 
 
 " Perhaps if I were to state why I never participate in the 
 pastime you laud so warmly, you would accuse me of an unmanly 
 fondness for a dish of scandal." 
 12*
 
 138 ALONE. 
 
 What did he say ? What did it mean ? His amusement 
 increased with her bewilderment, and before an explanation could 
 be asked or given, Mr. Pemberton took her hand. 
 
 Ida had, thus far, passed the dullest of dull evenings. Lynn 
 and Charley, who never let her suffer for attention when they 
 were by, had a business engagement which would detain them 
 until late ; it was even doubtful if they could come at all. She 
 talked at a moustached, be-whiskered, and be-imperialed youth 
 who solicited an introduction, because he had heard that she was 
 " smart," and hoped she could appreciate him ; his conversa- 
 tional talents compensating in quality for their deficiency in 
 quantity; anybody could talk, but who could dress, and stand, 
 and look as he did ? She tried to draw him out by encouraging 
 smiles, and well put queries he tugged at his waistcoat she 
 rallied him upon his abstraction he stroked his left whisker 
 she pretended offence at one of his milk-and-water responses he 
 performed the like kindly office to the right and she gave up 
 in despair. 
 
 Mr. De Langue was next. " He was " smart" himself, and 
 therefore could appreciate her, and to prove this, he rolled forth 
 volume after volume of French compliments, unanswerable, 
 because so highly polished that one could not, as it were, take 
 hold of them; edified her by disquisitions upon subjects of 
 which she was profoundly ignorant, and information respecting 
 others, of which she knew more than himself. After much 
 manoeuvring she sought refuge in a corner, fatigued, disgusted 
 and misanthropical. "I have thought that I might shine in 
 general company, where feeling never enters, and flaring flip- 
 pancy passes for wit; it seemed easy to manufacture small-talk, 
 but I was mistaken. This is ' rational recreation !' the pleasure 
 of mingling in <the best society/ as Josephine says. I envy St. 
 Simon in his twenty years' solitude upon his stone pillar." 
 
 " Compton, my dear fellow, can you make room for me to 
 pass ?" said a voice near her. "If I were a lady, I would faint, 
 and let you extricate me, as I am not, I must fight my way 
 out." 
 
 The gentleman addressed exerted his powers of compression, 
 and Mr. Lacy edged by him. His course was towards the door, 
 but he stopped as he espied Ida " Miss Ross, have you a
 
 ALONE. 139 
 
 welcome in your Retreat' for a storm-tossed wanderer? Your 
 quiet nook is most inviting." 
 
 Ida looked up mischievously. " I will not hinder your flight, 
 Mr. Lacy. Your envy of my corner is wasted upon one who 
 heard you singing a moment since, like the melancholy starling, 
 1 I can't get out ! I can't get out !' " 
 
 " I plead guilty but if a mightier temptation has mastered 
 my desire for liberty ? There are birds that will not fly after 
 the cage door is unfastened." 
 
 " They do not merit freedom," said she. 
 
 " Be it so this is my prison," rejoined the gentleman, seat- 
 ing himself upon an ottoman which Josephine, to get out of the 
 way, had wedged behind the door, thinking as she did so, that it 
 might prevent the pressure of the crowd from, breaking the 
 hinges, with not a presentiment that she was furnishing a hiding- 
 place for the last one of all the world whom she would have con- 
 cealed. 
 
 a Now," continued he, " as I can see but one, I recognise but 
 one jailor, and you will be merciful, remembering my voluntary 
 incarceration. And as a starting-point to the conversation, why 
 are you not in the other room ?" 
 
 " For the simple reason that no one has invited me to dance." 
 
 He looked surprised, yet pleased at her frankness. " You 
 would go, if you received an invitation ?" 
 
 That would depend upon circumstances. I should assuredly 
 decline one from you." 
 
 " And why ?" 
 
 <' I would not accept of anything offered in obedience to what 
 the one who tendered it considered a hint. How I might act if 
 I were a devotee of Terpsichore, I do not know, but a conversa- 
 zione is more attractive to me than a ball." 
 
 " We shall not quarrel there, and it is well that we agree in 
 disagreeing with the general sentiment. Taught by the experi- 
 ence gained in our short acquaintance, I should prefer a petition 
 with a quaking heart." 
 
 " You need not apprehend a refusal, provided your demand is 
 reasonable and properly timed," answered Ida. 
 
 " Which of these provisoes was wan ting to ensure the success 
 of the suit you negatived, upon the evening of our introduction?"
 
 140 ALONE. 
 
 " Both," she returned, laughing. " You insisted that 1 
 should sing, at sight, a song already dear to you, and I declined 
 to spoil the music, and wreck my musical reputation with a 
 stranger, from whose mind I might never have an opportunity 
 of removing the unfortunate opinion." 
 
 " In contrariety to these considerations, were the wish to 
 oblige me, and a dislike to wound the feelings of your friend, 
 Miss Josephine, and this scale kicked the beam ?" said Mr. Lacy, 
 interrogatively. 
 
 " No j Josephine was out of the question j she did not expect 
 me to comply. "We never sing together or very rarely. My 
 voice is not a contralto, nor does it accord with her's. You will 
 have to be content with my explanation ; I speak truth in the 
 smallest matters." 
 
 " The false in trifles are seldom reliable in things of greater 
 moment," replied the other. "There is less deliberate, mali- 
 cious falsehood in the world than we suppose. Men are oftener 
 liars from habit, than from necessity or temptation." 
 
 " But to this habit there must be a beginning. Is there no 
 sin in the earliest deviation from the right way ?" 
 
 " I did not say that there is not sin in every violation of truth. 
 Each one is a stain upon the soul blots, that too frequently 
 deface it forever; but I do not subscribe to the casuistry that 
 guages the guilt of a lie entirely by its effects upon others which 
 smiles upon, as a harmless simpleton, him who 'fibs' or 'yarns' 
 or 'embroiders' in cowardice or vanity, and empties the vials of 
 wrath upon the Pariah, who seeks, by one heaven-daring false- 
 hood, to save what he holds most dear. One destroys the mirrror 
 by gradually damaging its bright surface, the other shivers it at 
 one reckless blow." 
 
 " This has often struck me," said Ida. " It appears to me 
 that the slower process deadens the conscience most surely, and 
 the insensibility of those who practice it, betrays a more diseased 
 state of the moral system than the pangs of remorse." 
 
 "Undoubtedly; and this should make us doubly watchful 
 against any infringement of veracity. The straightest, the only 
 safe road is 'the truth the whole truth and nothing but the 
 truth.' " 
 
 "And who adheres to this rule?" asked Ida. "How much 
 truth, do you imagine, is being uttered now in these rooms ?"
 
 ALONE. 141 
 
 "We are discoursing very philosophically, and will be chari- 
 table enough to believe that numerous couples are similarly 
 engaged." 
 
 " Do you recollect Talleyrand's definition of speech?" inquired 
 Ida. 
 
 " ' A faculty whereby we conceal our thoughts' yes a sen- 
 tence worthy of its author. What a life this would be if we 
 were all Talieyrands I" 
 
 " We are according to our capacities/' said Ida. 
 
 "A singular sentiment for one of your age and sex!" replied 
 Mr. Lacy, with a searching look. Has the world served you 
 so unkindly, that you condemn your kind without reservation ?" 
 
 " There was a mental reservation ; yet my observation was 
 true in a general sense. Men live for- themselves ; it is humi- 
 liating to see how this principle regulates feeling and action. 
 We love our friends because they are ours ; the pronoun ' my' 
 expresses a nearness and sweetness which causes us to idolize the 
 thing we appropriate; <my own' is the most endearing of appel- 
 lations what is the delight it inspires, but the grossest vanity 
 and selfishness?" 
 
 " Pardon me, that I differ with you. Our love is won by the 
 qualities of its object; there would be no pleasure in appropria- 
 tion were not our affections enlisted ; no thrill of joy in identify- 
 ing with ourselves, the unknown or unlovely; if forced upon us, 
 dislike would ensue. We become attached to our dear ones for 
 their own sakes; although it cannot be denied, that a knowledge 
 of a reciprocation of affection is an auxiliary to the growth of 
 that fondness." 
 
 "And do you honestly credit the disinterestedness of human 
 nature ?" 
 
 " I do in many instances, and so do you. Look at the bene- 
 factors of mankind a Howard, preferring the noisome prison-cell 
 to competence and home ; a Wilberforce, spending and spent in 
 the great work ; the missionaries of the cross, at this moment 
 scattered in all lands, cut off from friends and civilization, without 
 prospect of emolument or renown ; forgotten, it may be, by all 
 but Him, in whose strength they labor; where is the self-interest 
 in this?" 
 
 " Your last is a puzzling case. The theory I have advanced,
 
 142 ALONE. 
 
 perhaps too boldly, was not of my own choosing. I was com- 
 pelled to its adoption by evidence which seemed incontestable, 
 and I retain it because it solves more riddles in the complex 
 machinery of society than any other I have heard. But it has 
 its difficulties, and the main one is such conduct as you allude 
 to. There is a key to the enigma, I suppose, if I could only 
 find it." 
 
 "There is," said Mr. Lacy, feelingly. "There is a love which 
 purifies the rest, a peace we would have all men know. They 
 err, who say that devotion to God weans the heart from our 
 friends. Our Divine Master has left us a new commandment 
 'that we love one another/ and with the increase of our love for 
 Him, our souls enlarge, until the arms of brotherly kindness 
 embrace the universal family of mankind. There is no such 
 being as a selfish Christian." 
 
 Ida listened in amazement. This language was uncommon at 
 any time and place out of the pulpit, but from an elegant and 
 popular young man, it was novel in the extreme. 
 
 "I can hardly understand the workings of a principle, which 
 is itself a mystery," she said. "Time was when religion was a 
 household word to me, but exposure to adverse influences has 
 erased from my mind all knowledge of this kind, if I ever had 
 any understanding of its meaning." 
 
 " You have the instruction of the immortal spirit within you. 
 Is that satisfied with its fare ? Are you content with yourself 
 and your mode of life ?" 
 
 " Content I" The tone was a sufficient reply. 
 
 "Will you allow me to use the freedom of a friend, Miss Ross, 
 and show you that in neglecting this subject you shut your eyes 
 to the only true happiness? I know that the lot which appears 
 brightest is checkered with vicissitudes inward struggles, more 
 trying than many visible afflictions. Against these, neither the 
 spirits of youth nor the reasonings of philosophy can always pre- 
 vail. I know how the lip smiles and the heart bleeds, although 
 the anguish within does not drown the gay words upon the 
 tongue. We may we do conceal, but the sting rankles the 
 same. Our Father never designed that we should be happy 
 away from Him. These misgivings, this discontent with our- 
 selves, and pinings for something better and higher, are voices
 
 ALONE. 143 
 
 beseeching us to partake of his love; they are the homesickness 
 of a child, who has strayed, and has forgotten in new scenes the 
 parent he has deserted, and the sight of a flower, a hreath of 
 warm air, a song he used to love, calls up the remembrance of 
 that father, and a gush of shame and longing he is too proud to 
 confess. Thus much all feel, but upon some fall heavier trials. 
 Earth has no cure for the woes which a residence here entails 
 upon us. Young as you are you may know this?" 
 
 " Is what I am saying disagreeable to you ?" 
 
 "No, sir; go on, if you please !" 
 
 "Then, if we are told of One, who cannot only comfort, 
 but convert distress into blessing; of whose loving protection 
 nothing can deprive us ; who will make this life tolerable nay, 
 pleasant, and assure us of an eternity of bliss to be shared with 
 Him, is it not the maddest folly to refuse the pledge He asks 
 in return a child's love and trust ?" 
 
 " I do not feel that I have acted thus I" said Ida, suddenly. 
 " My reason assents to what you have said, but my conscience 
 is dumb. The thought of a God Almighty and Holy over- 
 whelms me with awe sometimes -with terror. As Kuler and 
 Judge, I pay him homage, and obey, when I can, the letter of 
 His law ; but He does not care particularly for me one of 
 the most obscure of His countless subjects. I believe that He 
 is a tender Father to the favored ones who have tasted His 
 grace, and they ought to adore and love. I thank Him, from 
 afar off, for preservation not for creation and he does not call 
 me nearer. You think me very wicked, Mr. Lacy ; but as I 
 said, if I speak at all, I speak candidly." 
 
 "I like your truthfulness. You express what others secretly 
 feel ; this distant respect is the natural tone of an enlightened 
 mind, wedded to an unregenerate heart; and in your remarks, 
 I detect the bitterness which is its concomitant, amounting, in 
 some, to deadly enmity against their Maker and Redeemer. 
 Do you read the Bible may I ask ?" 
 
 " Yes occasionally." 
 
 " From what motive ?" 
 
 "I read it as a curiosity in literature but that is not the 
 principal reason"
 
 144 ALONE. 
 
 " Excuse me, I had no right to put the question. I wished 
 to know if you had noticed one or two passages such as 'All 
 day long I have stretched forth my hands unto a disobedient and 
 gainsaying people.' ' When I called ye did not answer when 
 I spake, ye did not hear.' ' Israel ! thou hast destroyed thy- 
 self, but in me is thy hope !' There is scarcely a page which 
 does not bear some moving expostulation or entreaty ; and the 
 disciple who knew Him best, condenses in one celestial drop 
 the stream of revelation, ' GOD is LOVE !' Not a word of Power 
 or Justice ! We cannot exaggerate these attributes, but we 
 may dwell upon them, to the exclusion of His long-suffering 
 and loving kindness." 
 
 "You have a strange way of speaking of these matters;" 
 said Ida. " I am acquainted with a number of excellent Chris- 
 tians, who never refer to the name by which they are called, 
 but at long intervals, in set terms, and in a tone which frightens 
 the f sinners' to whom they address their exhortations. I have 
 been troubled whether to question their sincerity, or the Faith, 
 which they assert, controls them." 
 
 Doubt neither Ascribe their silence to diffidence, or a 
 fear of giving offence ; their unhappy manner, to ignorance of 
 the proper method of managing hearts. It is to be regretted 
 that the one Reality upon the globe should be banished from 
 familiar conversation. If a man is sleeping upon the sea-shore, 
 the big waves washing his pillow at each surge, am I censurable 
 if I end his happy slumbers? Or, to employ an illustration 
 which suits me better I have a dear friend, to whom you are a 
 stranger. With my esteem for you, will not my desire to bring 
 you together, grow stronger ? When I discover traits in you 
 which he would approve, will not I tell you of him, and use 
 every means to facilitate an acquaintance, so pleasant and profit- 
 able ? Especially, if a time is certainly coming, when you will 
 require his assistance ; an emergency is to overtake you, when 
 all help but his will be vain does it not become my imperative 
 duty to implore you to accept the friendship he stands ready to 
 bestow ?" 
 
 " Do not the Scriptures speak of the veil that is upon their 
 hearts ?" said Ida. 
 
 " Yes but it is the veil of unbelief. If we do not of our-
 
 A L N E . 145 
 
 selves endeavour to tear it away, the light which streams upon 
 us, at its removal, may be too late. God does not need, but 
 He demands our co-operation in His schemes for our salvation. 
 There is our friend, Charley Dana ; he is late for a gentleman 
 of his punctual habits." 
 
 The conversation changed. Ida would gladly have heard 
 more of a topic, so unusual, and previously so unpleasing, but he 
 dropped it, and she did not oppose him. The manner, more 
 than the matter of his language, took her fancy. He did not 
 arrogate superiority of sense or goodness, and had none of the 
 stereotyped cant she dreaded; he did not preach, but talked, 
 easily and quietly; most of the time, with the smile she 
 thought so beautiful, and she observed his avoidance of " you" 
 and " I," substituting, when it could be done " we" and 
 < ' us," as if to lay a platform of perfect equality. If he had 
 intended to leave the room, when he fell in with her, he altered 
 his purpose. Charley and Lynn paid their respects, chatted 
 awhile, and went their ways; the former to dance and jest 
 with divers merry belles, who hailed his approach, a relief from 
 the very minor flats, upon which they had been playing, during 
 the tedious hours in the halls, which were not " halls of mirth." 
 Lynn sought Ellen Morris ; and if Ida had seen the scarlet stain 
 that suffused her cheeks, as she perceived him, she would have 
 had " confirmation strong" of a suspicion entertained from the 
 first time she had beheld them together. Mr. Lacy withstood his 
 jailor's offers of liberation. "If she were inclined to change 
 her place, or to promenade, he was at her service, but no altera- 
 tion could better his condition ;" and Ida's fears of detaining 
 him, being dissipated by this straight-forward avowal, she 
 abandoned herself to the enjoyment of communion with a noble 
 intellect and finely-attuned spirit. The announcement of supper, 
 the tocsin of liberty to a majority of -the company, interrupted 
 their lively dialogue. 
 
 Long before this, Josephine's eyes had raked the parlours from 
 wall to wall, and she was fully satisfied, or ^'s-satisfied that her 
 polar star was missing. 
 
 In the sickness of the disappointment, she hated the show of 
 pleasure going on about her : the most fagged-out of the chape- 
 ron wall-flowers did not wish for the hour of separation more 
 
 1O
 
 146 ALONE. 
 
 ardently than did she. There was one streak of light upon the 
 cloud ; no society could recompense him for parting with hers, 
 and he had departed in consequence : but she could have bitten 
 her tongue off, as she deplored her injudicious declaration 
 (untrue too !) of devotion to an amusement, for which she cared 
 nothing. "Was ever girl so impolitic ? What if he were him- 
 self one of this " religious sort ?" the bare supposition was 
 distracting ! she had committed the unpardonable sin ! 
 
 " What have you done with Mr. Lacy ?" queried one and 
 another, and a ready untruth answered, " He had an engage- 
 ment, which obliged him to go early." Charley overheard one 
 repetition of this excuse ; but although his eyes wandered, with 
 a comical roll, towards the retreat of the recusant, he kept his 
 own counsel. By supper-time, she was so convinced of the 
 truth of her fabrication, that she neglected to institute a search 
 which would have showed her Mr. Lacy and Ida, at the farthest 
 end of the table. Twice again, she could have been blessed by 
 a sight of him. Charley having invited Ida to a promenade in 
 the hall, Mr. Lacy bethought him of his fair and partial hostess ; 
 but she was not to be found. She was lying upon the bed in 
 her chamber, fretting over her "foolishness," and the "stupidity 
 and worry" of all parties, hers in particular. Smoothing her 
 face and ringlets, she regained the parlor by one door, as Morton 
 left it by another. He encountered Ida and Charley, and 
 walked with them until the carriages came to the door. Jose- 
 phine accompanied several of her most fashionable guests to 
 the dressing-room ; and Mr. Lacy, seeing there was no one to 
 receive his conge", made none. 
 
 The day after ! Mr. Head was growling and headachy; Jose- 
 phine in her worst humor, and itching to vent it. The breakfast 
 hour was enlivened by a continual peppering of small shot from 
 her, varied by a big gun from her father. He sneered at her 
 arrangements and company, saying much that was cuttingly 
 true, more, really, than he was aware of; and she pecked at him 
 and the servants. In spite of her dislike, Ida pitied her, as she 
 surveyed the heaps of unwashed dishes and glasses ; the carpets, 
 spotted with wine, cake and jelly trampled into their velvet ; 
 and the forlorn disorder that reigned over all. She was on the 
 point of offering her assistance, when Josephine brushed by her,
 
 ALONE. 117 
 
 with a peremptory order to " folks who were cluttering up the 
 room, to be off, if they did not mean to work I" Herself, the 
 cat and the footman, who was collecting the remains of the feast, 
 comprising the auditory, Ida thought herself justifiable in taking 
 a share of the hint. 
 
 She sent Eachel down in her place, enjoining upon her, as a 
 prudential measure, not to speak, unless when asked a direct 
 question. 
 
 As to Ida, the close of her evening had more than compensated 
 for the ennui of the beginning ; she had no foiled stratagems, no 
 tangled snares to lament; yet the dissipation produced a 'nervous 
 languor, tempting, yet dissuading her from action. She read 
 and the letters danced cotillions and waltzes over the page. The 
 piano was in the parlor but so was Josephine. She essayed to 
 sew, and stitched up a seam wrong side out, and ran the point 
 of the needle under her finger nail. 
 
 " I must walk I have it ! Mrs. Dana will like to hear about 
 the party, and there is Elle's doll's hat." 
 
 Her gloves were in a bureau drawer, and near them lay a 
 velvet case, enclosing the miniature of her parents excellent 
 likenesses, but owing to some oversight in mixing, or in the 
 quality of the colors, they were fading already. She had signi- 
 fied to Mr. Read her intention to have them copied, before they 
 should be so much defaced as to render it impracticable ; why 
 not give them to Lynn ? His ability was uncontrovertible it 
 would be a kindness to him now, in the outset of his professional 
 career ; and she had the vanity to believe that he would bestow 
 double pains upon what she so valued. She would carry them 
 to Mrs. Dana, and ask her advice. 
 
 That lady was in her nursery, which was one of Ida's accus- 
 tomed haunts. She was at home at once ; tossing the babe, and 
 joining her voice to its chuckling laugh, until the room rang 
 again ; Charley hanging upon her dress to entreat her praises of 
 his hobby-horse ; and Elle waiting patiently to kiss her for the 
 " sweet bonnet that just fitted Dolly." 
 
 " You have come to stay a good long time with me, I know," 
 said. Mrs. Dana. " Here is a note I was about to send to you, 
 requesting the pleasure of your company to dinner. I thought 
 you had rather be out of the way while Miss Josephine is ( clean-
 
 148 ALONE. 
 
 ing up,' and to be candid, Mr. Dana has invited two or three 
 gentlemen to dine with us, and I am too bashful to face them 
 unsupported. I did not write this, lest you should have scruples 
 on the subject, but you must stay for my sake and John's. He 
 made it a point that you should be asked. Do you know I am 
 getting jealous ?" 
 
 " But indeed, my dear madam" 
 
 " But indeed, my dear miss, you will remove your bonnet 
 immediately." 
 
 Resistance was useless; nor would Ida have offered it, had 
 she been sure of meeting only the family; for the sun shone 
 more brightly into this home-nest of cheerful peace, than into the 
 abode she had lately quitted. The Danas knew enough of Mr. 
 Read and Josephine, to make them solicitous to withdraw Ida 
 as much from their influence as was consistent with her duty as 
 a ward. She never complained, except to Carry, but they 
 respected her the more for her prudence. 
 
 " You will spoil me," said she, as Mrs. Dana untied her 
 bonnet 
 
 " No danger," replied the lady, kissing her forehead Carry's 
 caress and as other lips did, years ago. Tears stood in the 
 orphan's eyes, but they did not fall. Elle wondered why cousin 
 Ida could not see her doll's cloak without holding her head &- 
 near to it. 
 
 Mrs. Dana approved entirely of her project. 
 
 " Will you take them to him this morning?" inquired she. 
 
 I certainly had such a notion, but I do not like to go without 
 you, and as you are expecting company" 
 
 " No time like the present, my dear. My dinner is in the 
 hands of the cook ; I shall not be wanted here for two hours. It 
 is a lovely day, and I am glad of an errand that affords an excuse 
 to go out." 
 
 As they were passing " Dana & Co.'s" she halted. 
 
 tf Had we not better ask Mr. Dana to pilot us ? I am uncer- 
 tain of the exact locality of this same studio." 
 
 Mr. Dana could not go ; he was waiting upon a country cus- 
 tomer with a memorandum as long as his arm ; but he conducted 
 the ladies into the counting-room. Charley was there, at a tall 
 desk, buried in ledgers and filed bills ; and so business-like, that
 
 ALONE. 149 
 
 Ida hung back upon the threshold a fear, of which she was 
 ashamed, as he extended both hands to her, thanked them for 
 their visit, and offered to escort them. He unlocked his bache- 
 lor's pantry of crackers, cheese and choice Madeira, hospitality 
 which they civilly declined. Mr. Dana left the counter "to hope 
 that he should see Miss Ida at dinner ;" a courtesy which was a 
 a sign of esteem and favor from one of his reticent disposition. 
 
 Lynn's studio was a small, but exquisitely appointed room. 
 It was a minute before the eyes, used to the out-door light, could 
 penetrate the claro-obscuro of its twilight. 
 
 Ida knew Lynn by his voice, and pressure of her hand, then 
 a tarller figure was developed to her vision, and she recognised 
 Mr. Lacy. 
 
 "Are you engaged, Mr. Holmes?" asked Mrs. Dana. 
 
 "No, madam; Mr. Lacy has just concluded a sitting the 
 last. Your coming is opportune, you can criticise his portrait." 
 
 The voice was unanimous. It was a masterly painting, and 
 faithful to life. 
 
 " A personable individual too, Morton considering " said 
 Charley. "Did .you have it painted for a sign-board ? " Morton 
 Lacy, attorney at law, For recommendations, see heading of 
 this article.' What a multitude of lady-clients you would 
 have 1" 
 
 " It is for a lady who will not part with it, even to procure 
 me a press of clients for my mother," returned Mr. Lacy. 
 " She will feel herself to be under great obligations to you, Mr. 
 Holmes, for so truthful a transcript of her < absent boy.' " 
 
 Ida looked at the original instead of the picture. It was, then, 
 the handsomer of the two. With a complimentary observation 
 of the workmanship, he dismissed the subject, and directed Ida 
 to a genuine Claude, Lynn's pride and boast. She slipped her 
 case into Mrs. Dana's hand, and followed him. Lynn presently 
 approached. 
 
 " It would be an idle form to say that I am honoured by your 
 application," said he. " Your heart will tell you how I esteem 
 this proof of your friendship. It is a sacred trust, and as such 
 I will fulfil it." 
 
 " I feared you would discourage me," replied Ida. " Is it not 
 difficult to take a picture, the size of life, from a miniature ?' ;
 
 150 ALONE. 
 
 " It requires care, and a just regard to proportions; but I have 
 an assurance of success in my willingness to attempt the work. 
 I hope I know I shall not fail. Now, what shall I do to enter- 
 tain you ? I am so unused to morning calls from ladies and 
 such ladies ! that I am at a loss how to bear my honors." 
 
 " Where are those long-promised portfolios ? n said Ida. " W 
 could not desire a more acceptable treat." 
 
 The hour consumed in the examination of the artist's pictured 
 treasures, was, to Ida, one of unalloyed delight. There might 
 yet be diamonds in the pebbly sands of Richmond. Coke 
 loomed up threateningly before Mr. Lacy ; and Charley and 
 Mrs. Dana felt some conscience-prickings, at the thought of Day- 
 books and desserts ; but they did not offer to stir until Lynn 
 affirmed that he had nothing more to show. 
 
 " There are good points in this working-day life of ours, are 
 there not ?" said Charley, as they went down the steps. 
 
 "Just my sentiments!" answered Mr. Lacy. "Yet Mr. 
 Holmes is a dangerous citizen. He has beguiled an unsuspecting 
 youth out of two hours of study. This is my apology for leaving 
 pleasant company ; it is a consolation to a benevolent-minded 
 person like myself, to know that I, and not they, will suffer from 
 the separation. Adieu I" 
 
 "'Till dinner-time," said Mrs. Dana. 
 
 Mr. Dana convened a circle of friends to meet a young 
 Northerner, the bearer of an introductory letter from his New 
 York partner ; and it was apparent that his ideas of the boun- 
 daries of civilization < North by Cape Cod South by Sandy 
 Hook' were seriously shaken by this peep at Virginia life. 
 Mrs. Dana was, Charley maintained, a < star housekeeper' ; and 
 her laurels did not wilt to-day. A perfect understanding existed 
 between her and her head-waiter, < Uncle Abraham/ She did 
 not issue an order ; and in emulation of her quiet manner, his 
 instructions to his satellites were inaudible to the guests. Mr. 
 Lacy, Lynn, Mr. Brigham, (the stranger,) Mr. Villet, a French 
 gentleman, whose amiability and politeness would have been his 
 passport in any kingdom and clime, Mr. Thornton, recently 
 admitted to the bar, and a fair sample of the educated South- 
 erner ; with the two Danas, and the ladies, made up the company. 
 
 Mr. Thornton sat by Ida; Mr. Lacy opposite. His quick
 
 ALONE. 151 
 
 look of pleasure, as lie was shown his place, indicated his satis- 
 faction ; and although he did not interfere with her brilliant 
 neighbor by addressing her in words, he did so frequently by his 
 eje and smile. The conversation streamed on in a glittering 
 tide ; Mr. Thornton, always ready with fun or sense, and 
 Charley, whose creed interdicted flagging chit-chat leading 
 then Lynn, warming, dashed in ; pursued, very cautiously, by 
 Mr. Brigham. Mr. Villet cheered them on by his gusto of 
 every repartee; and John Dana set his seal of confirmation 
 upon each profound remark. Mr. Lacy said comparatively 
 little ; he seemed to prefer looking on ; but his intelligent couute* 
 nance spoke so eloquently for him, that his silence did not 
 obstruct the hilarious current. There was another listener, who 
 entered heartily into the spirit of the hour ; never imagining 
 that the speakers gathered animation from her beaming face. 
 She was oblivious of the fact of her bodily presence, until 
 brought to the knowledge by the host's, 
 
 t( Mr. Lacy, Miss Ross will take a glass of wine with you." 
 
 Mr. Lacy spoke a word to the servant who stood prepared to 
 fill his glass; and bowing with graceful composure to his 
 vis-a-vis 
 
 " Miss Ross will not forbid my pledging her health and 
 happiness in a purer draught," he said, and raised a tumbler of 
 water to his lips. 
 
 Temperance societies were not much in vogue in those days ; 
 and were not in such odor as now; and this movement 
 astounded all present. Mr. Thornton, who had the common 
 infirmity of wits, who have not learned the inadequacy of this 
 one talent, rare 'though it be, to supply the loss of every- 
 thing else: and whose greatest fault was, that he ran his 
 trenchant blade as often into the breast of a friend, as foe, 
 assailed his professional brother on the spot. He was parried 
 with immovable good humour ; and the others came to his aid ; 
 some with arguments, some with questions. Even Mr. Villet 
 could not refrain from a cut of polite ridicule. The assailed 
 maintained his ground manfully ; neither staggered nor dis- 
 mayed by the odds against him. He knew every foot of the 
 field, having fought upon it more times than any of them. 
 Charley laid down his arms first < silenced if not convinced'
 
 152 ALONE. 
 
 ho owned; Mr. Thornton was 'floored' by a thrust equal to his 
 last blow; the fate of the battle was to be determined by single 
 combat ; Lynn being unvanquished. He was an expert fencer ; 
 and changing his tactics, stood upon the defensive. Once and 
 again, was he forced into a corner, from which retreat appeared 
 impossible ; and as often was he seen the next moment, fighting 
 in the open plain, with unbattered crest. His opponent pro- 
 posed a suspension of hostilities, but the auditors vetoed it 
 peremptorily. They were alike amused and interested; and 
 Mr. Lacy observed, with a smile, that the ruby poison, the 
 engenderer of the strife, was untouched during the discussion. 
 Mrs. Dana made a feint of withdrawal, and was solicited to 
 remain, < to be in at the death/ Charley said. He had a double 
 motive in supporting the request ; he foresaw defeat for Lynn ; 
 and although the admirable temper of the argument was likely 
 to continue to the end, he judged it best to keep his gallantry in 
 play, as a balance-wheel to his impetuosity. The event did not 
 disappoint his expectation. Lynn was game to the last, but 
 surrender or not, he was indubitably beaten. Mr. Lacy covered 
 his enemy's rout by a flattering tribute to his argumentative 
 abilities, and the two laughingly shook hands, as they arose 
 from the board. 
 
 In the parlor, their undisputed court, the ladies received 
 the attention which had been diverted from them by the wordy 
 war. 
 
 " To show that I bear no malice for old scores, I repeat the 
 petition that met with so obstinate a refusal," said Mr. Lacy, 
 
 giving Ida his arm. " Will you sing for me ?" 
 "' Say, what shall my song be to-night, 
 
 And the strain at your bidding shall flow,'" 
 
 she replied, running her fingers over the keys. 
 
 " That I leave to you. I do not know what suits your voice 
 or taste." 
 
 1 ' The Last Rose of Summer/ " prompted Charley ; " after- 
 wards, the 'Captive Knight.'" 
 
 Mr. Lacy laughed; supposing he intended a satire upon tho 
 " miscellaneous" songsters, he had also thought of, when ho 
 objected to making a selection ; and Ida, slightly piqued at his 
 want of confidence in her powers of vocalization, sang both with
 
 ALONE. 153 
 
 inimitable skill and expression. The gentlemen pressed around 
 to ask, each, for his favorite song. She complied readily and 
 patiently. The natural compass and strength of her voice had 
 been increased by diligent practice, yet music was with her, more 
 a passion than an art ; her songs, spirit-utterances instead of the 
 compositions of others, learned by rote. 
 
 " She is actually beautiful I" said Mr. Dana, aside to his 
 brother. 
 
 " Something above the order of puppets, nicknamed young 
 ladies, with which people ornament their parlors now-a-days," 
 was the reply. 
 
 Removed from the gnome-like regards of Josephine, she was, 
 indeed, a different being. The presence of this girl was a mental 
 extinguisher smothering the flame of feeling in fetid smoke 
 the kindliness of the Danas, the generous oil feeding the exhausted 
 lamp. Years afterwards, when the purple flush had faded from 
 life's morning, the scene preceding her departure upon this even- 
 ing, would recur, as one of the proudest and happiest moments of 
 her existence John Dana, standing in front of her, his grave 
 features relaxed into a smile of fatherly fondness, as he heard 
 . her defence of herself against an accusation of Mr. Thornton's 
 Mrs. Dana, her hand upon her husband's shoulder, listening and 
 enjoying Charley and Lynn, her allies and counsellors, waiting 
 to add their testimony Mr. Lacy sitting beside her, and drink- 
 ing in her words with an avidity that brought the blood tingling 
 to her cheeks, and excited the meaning smiles of the spectators. 
 She was in her proper sphere : the centre and idol of a home- 
 circle. The praises lavished upon her were honestly won too 
 much would have satiated, not spoiled the utter absence of 
 reward soured her. 
 
 " I have had a happy, happy day, dear Mrs. Dana !" whispered 
 she, at going. " I shall write to Carry to-morrow, to apprise 
 ner how well you fill her place." 
 
 Mr. Lacy attended her home. Curiosity had set for him the 
 study of her character. Her mien bespoke no ordinary soul ; 
 and the inuendoes of Josephine, meant to deter him from pro- 
 secuting it, stimulated his desire. They had been together 
 repeatedly, previous to the party, but always in the company ot 
 the Extinguisher. Her arch glance and rejoinder to his thought-
 
 154 ALONE. 
 
 less remark, while recalling Josephine's insinuation of her hoy- 
 denish propensities, nevertheless fascinated him. From being 
 amused, he grew interested ; he was working a mine of thought, 
 and unless the clue was false, there was a substratum of feeling. 
 The friendship of the Danas convinced him that the heart was 
 warm and true. He saw the frank girl amidst the friends in the 
 studio, and the accomplished woman in the coterie of the evening; 
 and could not say which was most attractive. " So much intel- 
 ligence and so little affectation are seldom seen in the same 
 person ;" he meditated. " She has the materials for a noble 
 character." Did he think to mould it ! 
 
 CHAPTEE XIII. 
 
 OUR youthful debutantes were plunged into the maelstrSnrof 
 a fashionable season ; a whirl which, in its outermost circles, was 
 as gratifying to the feverish energy of Ida as to the vanity of 
 her more grovelling-minded associate. The rapidly shortening 
 days seemed longer instead, so uneventful and wearisome were 
 they. Life commenced when the evening's thousand lamps were 
 lit. The mingling perfumes ; the crush and flutter ; the wave- 
 like roar of the assembly-room, were delicious excitement to the 
 emancipated school-girl ; and to the astonishment of those who 
 had known her then, the reserved student bloomed into the 
 dashing wit and belle ; beauties and hfeiresses sitting, uncourted 
 by, while " eligibles" contended for the honor of her preference. 
 Her newness was a part of the secret. The spectacle of a wild 
 Zingara, unreined, and glorying in the fullness of its freedom, 
 scorning bit and spur, amongst a pack of jaded hackneys, who 
 have been trotted and paced and galloped, year after year, until 
 their factitious animation and oft-repeated gambols create pity 
 and contempt, would cause a sensation akin to that awakened by 
 her appearance. Her lightest words were jeux d'esprit; her 
 laugh, a chime of silver wedding-bells; (things by the way, of 
 which every body talks, but nobody we have questioned, ever 
 heard,) her singing seraphic; her ballads lyric gems; herself a 
 Oorinne. Josephine was latest to perceive, first to resent this
 
 ALONE. 155 
 
 sudden accession of popularity. Rivalry from this source was as 
 unexpected as unbearable. Her glass showed her a form, airy 
 as a summer cloud ; a set of features more delicate and regular 
 than Ida's characteristic physiognomy ; and in dress, she certainly 
 bore off the palm ; her maid being invariably rung up an hour 
 and a half before Rachel's services were demanded. She fought, 
 as long as she could, with the conviction that this pre-eminence 
 was as though it had not been to the world ; and when it made 
 a violent entrance into her circumscribed .intellect, how was the 
 milk of her nature curdled to vinegar ! And how like nitre to 
 vinegar, were the happily -chosen congratulations of her attendant 
 beaux, upon her good fortune in inhabiting the same house with 
 "her charming friend, Miss Ross;" or, "Miss Ida even surpasses 
 herself to-night;" "A remarkable girl! such vivacity! and I 
 hear, quite as much profundity of mind ; is this so, Miss Read ?" 
 And the writhing dissembler had to assent, and corroborate, and 
 smile, while the yeasty waves frothed and bubbled furiously in 
 their confinement. To expose her envy would damage her pros- 
 pects, hinged as they were, in part, upon her sweetness of dispo- 
 sition. 
 
 It might have been a salvo to her wounded vanity had she 
 guessed by what a length of time her jealousy outlived the tri- 
 umph which aroused it ; how the feast of adulation, so daintily 
 spread, ceased to tempt,- then nauseated ; how, from the jewelled 
 robe of society the gloss wore away, and threadbare tatters were 
 all that remained of what was cloth of gold ; how prevarications 
 and oaths refused longer to shelter falsehood; and the garlands 
 withered and shrank from manacles which heated with the wear- 
 ing ; how the earth itself was a thin, hollow ball, that one could 
 puff away with a breath ; how, ere the fire the revel had infused 
 into her veins cooled, the coronal was plucked from the brow, 
 the costly attire crushed petulantly, a worthless rag ! And at 
 that window, the freezing air not chilling her heated blood the 
 envied one wept blistering tears of self-abhorrence and despon- 
 dency and the night-wind sighed to the moan "Not this! 
 not this I" and the old prayer for " liberty and love !" We say, 
 had she known this, she might have felt avenged ; but the public, 
 nor she, saw any alteration in its fondling and her detestation. 
 It was the middle of December. Balls, concerts, and soirees had
 
 156 ALONE. 
 
 been given in breathless succession, and Ellen Morris issued 
 tickets for yet another. The appointed hour saw the house over- 
 flowing. Ida was near the centre of the front parlor, radiant and 
 flattered as usual. One gentleman, with an air of easy assur- 
 ance, was inspecting her bouquet; a second, pushing a mock 
 flirtation with all his might ; a third, a callow youngster, afraid 
 to speak to the " bright particular," he had so panted to behold, 
 staring into her face in sheepish agony; and a fourth peered 
 over the shoulder of number one. 
 
 "The camelia, Miss Ida, what is its emblem?" asked the 
 bouquet holder. 
 
 " Beauty without wit;" rejoined she, but half hearing him, 
 and then finishing a sentence to No. 2. 
 
 " Without amiability, you mean," corrected No. 4. 
 
 " Without wit I" said Ida. " I relish an active perfume, 
 which can be detected without effort of mine, and do not prize a 
 flower that must be bruised to extract its sweetness ; amiability 
 is, at best, a passive virtue." 
 
 " But what is a beautiful woman without softness, tenderness, 
 effeminacy ?" said No. 2, whose stock of words exceeded that of 
 ideas. " She wins us by her yielding submissiveness, her gentle 
 mildness. Destitute and devoid of these, she is to me without 
 charm or attraction. Do not understand me, however, as depre- 
 ciating or undervaluing wit in your presence !" recollecting him- 
 self, with a salaam. 
 
 " No apologies are necessary. We all agree that such depre- 
 ciation would come with a bad grace from Mr. Talbot," said Ida, 
 pointedly, returning a still deeper curtsey. 
 
 No. 1 nodded, as he laughed, to some one beside her. " Good 
 evening," said Mr. Lacy, as she looked around. 
 
 " And he has overheard this nonsensical stuff !" thought she, 
 with inward disturbance. "When did you come in?" she 
 inquired. 
 
 " About ten minutes since ; most of which time has been 
 spent in a search for Mrs. or Miss Morris." 
 . " I am glad to hear it." 
 
 G-lad how ?" 
 
 " I feared you had occupied your present position some time." 
 
 He understood her.- "There are more people here than I 
 expected to see," he said, after some general conversation.
 
 ALONE. 157 
 
 "Almost too many," replied Ida; "I am getting tired of 
 these great parties." 
 
 " The heat is oppressive. Have you a liking for this stand ?" 
 
 ND my being here is accidental. It requires some effort to 
 stand, or walk upright, in the heart of this crowd." 
 
 " I noticed, as I came through, that the music room was more 
 thinly populated will you rest there ?" 
 
 This was a mere boudoir compared with others of the suite, 
 and the prepossessions of the company were for music of a differ- 
 ent kind. The violin was discoursing its enchanting strains in 
 the farther apartment, and there were not above a dozen persons 
 in the one, where slumbered the piano and guitar. 
 
 "Are you indisposed, Miss Ross?" asked Mr. Brigham, who 
 was fanning a fragile-looking girl, reclining in an easy chair. 
 
 " No only tired. You have acted wisely in shunning the 
 press and bustle, Miss Moore. I am happy to see you able to 
 venture out in the evening." 
 
 " Your climate is doing wonderful things for me/' answered 
 Miss Moore, smiling. 
 
 " How dreadful to be deprived of health, and the hope of a 
 long life !" said Ida, when they were seated. 
 
 " And especially mournful in this instance, if I am not 
 deceived !" replied Mr. Lacy. " I pity that man ! he will not 
 believe that bereavement is inevitable; and if death was ever 
 branded upon human brow, it is upon hers." 
 
 "I honor his constancy and devotion," said Ida. "The 
 object of his visit in the fall, was to acquaint himself with 
 the advantages our city possesses for invalids; then he went 
 back for her mother and herself. He is both brother and lover. 
 Who would have expected this from a man of his phlegmatic 
 constitution ?" 
 
 " Another warning of the folly of judging by appearances. 
 It is possible, too, that we who are pitying her are as much in 
 want of compassion. The highest happiness is unaffected by 
 extraneous influences." 
 
 " Happiness !" echoed Ida. " It is a myth." 
 
 " So says the sage of eighteen gay, gifted and caressed 1 
 You will not entrap me into a sermon ;" said Mr. Lacy, spor- 
 tively. " No ! no ! Miss Ida ! you will regard me as a lineal 
 14
 
 l- r ' ALONE. 
 
 descendant of Bunyan's Mr. Law a Giant Grim, who frequents 
 places of amusement to corner children, and relate scary stories 
 to them." 
 
 " A monster who does not exhibit himself often ;" returned 
 Ida. " This is but the second large party at which I have seen 
 you. Are you principled against them ?" 
 
 " No, and yes. I do not disapprove of social pleasures. They 
 make light, yet firm, the bands that cement our species. Their 
 suppression would convert the most benevolent into a morose 
 eremite ; but I do see incipient evil in the frequency of these 
 scenes. Setting aside the waste of time, which may belong to 
 matters of importance, sooner or later they produce a disrelish 
 for domestic duties, and an enervation, physical and mental, like 
 the languorous sobriety of a toper. There is nothing nourishing 
 to the immortal mind, in a ceaseless round of gaiety." 
 
 " How do you know, by personal experience ?" 
 
 " Even so. I once drank pretty deeply of Pleasure's cup 
 did not drain it to the lees but drew off the clear wine, and was 
 beginning to taste the bitter, before I would let go. I was in 
 Mr. Holmes' studio, yesterday, and missed your portraits. You 
 have them ?" 
 
 " I have." 
 
 " Are you pleased ?" 
 
 "Entirely. I do not remember my father, but Mr. Read 
 says the likeness is good. The other could not be improved." 
 
 " Mr. Holmes is a painter of exalted abilities, and an enthu- 
 siast in his art. I did not know him well until our passage at 
 arms "at Mr. Dana's, the day we dined there. We have been 
 friends ever since. My sister writes that his portrait of myself 
 is a solace in the loneliness of her sick chamber. She has the 
 kindest of mothers and friends, but there are times when they 
 are unavoidably absent, and she is childish enough to talk to the 
 dumb semblance of one who is not worthy of her love, and 
 Imagine that it looks back its answers." 
 
 " Have you but one sister ?" 
 
 " But one at home three are married. Annie seems nearer 
 to me; she is next me in age, and until a year ago was my 
 inseparable companion." 
 
 His eye rested upon Miss Moore. " We were speaking of
 
 ALONE. 
 
 happiness in affliction. If skeptical on this head, you should 
 know her. She is never free from pain and never impatient ; 
 her sunny, loving temper, makes her room the resort of the 
 neighborhood but this does not interest you." 
 
 " Not interest me !" said Ida, reproachfully. " Do you then 
 think me the heartless creature I appear? I am not wholly 
 absorbed in self. We have never conversed as strangers; do 
 not let us retrograde now. True, I have no sister, but I have a 
 friend who is more to me, so I may listen." 
 
 " Thank you," said he sincerely. " I have feared you might 
 deem my informal address presumptuous ; but I seem to have 
 known you for years, not months. I cannot wear my company 
 manners when talking to you." 
 
 " Perhaps we have met before, in an anterior state of exist- 
 ence," replied Ida; "and lurking memories of introductions, 
 and compliments, and staid courtesies, render these preliminaries 
 odious now. I could be sure, sometimes, that my spirit had 
 lived in this world before it tenanted its present body." 
 
 " These are fascinating, yet dangerous speculations," he 
 answered. " I am tormented by them myself, but I shun 
 them as unprofitable." 
 
 <' Why so ? The soul, as our nobler part, merits most study; 
 its mysteries are yet undiscovered. What a field expands to 
 our contemplation ! over which the mind may rove and exult 
 for ages, and leave unimpoverished. I would not barter one 
 hour of such thoughts chimerical though they may be for 
 ten years of this vapid, surface life. I had rather dive into the 
 ocean, to bring up nothing but valueless shells, than drift, like 
 dead sea-weed, upon the top of the sleepy waves." 
 
 " May I describe another mode of life and action ?" 
 
 " Certainly so you do not laugh at me." 
 
 " Do you apprehend that I shall ?" fixing his clear eye upon 
 hers. " I would remind you of the humble mariner, steering 
 his vessel boldly, but carefully, through the waters, thankful in 
 sunshine, courageous in tempest, with one port in view, rowing 
 past the Fairy islands that stud the deep; keeping a straight 
 path in a trackless waste, for he looks to the eternal heavens for 
 guidance." 
 
 I must sport among the is.ets," said Ida. " You do not
 
 160 ALONE. 
 
 quite comprehend me, Mr. Lacy. I have told you more than 
 once that life has thus far been a disappointment to me, but it 
 is not that I have sucked the orange dry, and would cast the 
 tasteless pulp away. Mine has been so acid I must hope that 
 time and the sun of prosperity will ripen it to lusciousness. 
 Others tell of unknown depths of happiness I have capacity to 
 enjoy am I unreasonable in trusting that my turn will come? 
 Have I tasted all of earth's delights at eighteen ?" 
 
 " Could you quaff them at one draught, your thirst would not 
 be appeased. You are no nearer to contentment now than you 
 were three years since. The drink-offering of popular award is 
 growing dull and stale ; you sigh at what would have chased 
 gloom a month ago, and this is the hey-day of pleasure. Nay," 
 continued he, dropping his earnest tone, and bending to look 
 into her face, " I shall not forgive myself if I mar your even- 
 ing's entertainment by my croaking. Messrs. Talbot & Co.'s 
 anathemas against my impertinent monopoly do not occasion 
 me a hundredth part of the disquiet your very sober face does. 
 Mr. Thornton is coming to ask you to dance. Will you go ?" 
 
 " Fatigued !" exclaimed the barrister, to her excuse. " I 
 should as soon admit the plea of a star for ceasing to shine upon 
 the pretext that it was too troublesome to continue its light." 
 
 " Has there never been such a disappearance ?" questioned 
 Mr. Lacy. 
 
 " I have seen eclipses," retorted the other. " The sun is 
 invisible, when the leaden moon comes between it and us. 
 This music is too inspiriting, Miss Ross ; am I reduced to the 
 necessity of seeking another partner ?" 
 
 I am sorry I can't say 'no/ " said she, laughingly. 
 
 Mr. Lacy was bent upon expelling the regrets reflection might 
 beget; and wiled into confidence by his gentle endeavors to 
 induce a trust in him as a friend, Ida spoke freely, though not 
 unguardedly, of feelings and thoughts which had been so long 
 hushed, that their speech was slow and imperfect; but he inter- 
 preted and prized their stammered story. As the night wore 
 on, exhausted couples dropped in, and there was an end to con- 
 nected conversation. It was as well, for both were forgetting 
 where they were. Morton relinquished his chair to Ellen, and 
 Btood by her, and Lynn sank, playfully, upon one knee before Ida.
 
 ALONE. 161 
 
 " Take care I" was his whisper. " Serpents coil in rose- 
 thickets." 
 
 What do you meun ?" inquired sue, struck and chilled. 
 
 " That we are the most tenacious of that to which we have 
 the most meagre title." 
 
 A masculine Sphinx ! speak out 1" she demanded. 
 
 " Miss Read could enact (Edipus to this riddle. Seriously, 
 Ida, beware of that woman ! She courts Lacy's society. I do 
 not know what the ladies' verdict is to us it is as plain as that 
 he does not like her half as well as he does you. Do not avoid 
 him ; he deserves your favor ; but do nothing to uncover her 
 eyes blindfolded by her egregious conceit." 
 
 " Lynn ! you confound me ! What have I to do with Mr. 
 Lacy ! I have no interests which would war with hers, were they 
 ever so strong. Having nothing to lose, I have nothing to fear. 
 I am obliged to you for your brotherly cares," she added, 
 roguishly. " A fellow-feeling makes us wondrous kind." 
 
 You know it, then !" exclaimed he, his large eyes splendid 
 in their flash of intelligence and rapture. 
 
 " I am not insensible or indifferent, where the happiness of 
 my friends is concerned," she rejoined, in the same confidential 
 tone. 
 
 Another gleam thanked her. 
 
 Ellen Morris was what is termed, a taking girl." The high, 
 gay spirit, which had distinguished her among her comrades at 
 Mr. Purcell's won her distinction in a world willing to be amused. 
 She had objectionable traits, but there was also much that was 
 admirable and loveable about her. ^If her over-weening fond- 
 ness for merriment offended, it was easy to forgive one, whose 
 lively sense of the comic was inbred and irresistible. Still, it 
 was a marvel that the impassioned -Lynn should recognise in her 
 the embodiment of his poetic dream of woman. They met 
 before he went to Europe, and the tricksy sprite of a school-girl 
 was not dislodged from his memory by the lures that tried him 
 there. He came back to find a blooming maiden preserving the 
 fresh, joyous grace which had captivated him in the child and . 
 loved ! as men seldom love as women often do with an aban- * 
 don of affection, an upyielding of every faculty and thought to 
 14*
 
 162 ALONE. 
 
 the dominion of one sentiment a love tbat brings gladness to 
 few hearts, and breaks many ! many ! 
 
 Had he asked Ida, with the disinterested equanimity, some 
 suitors we wot of, display, what course she would advise in this 
 momentous matter, she would have responded with a sister's 
 candor, " she does not suit you rid yourself of your entangle- 
 ment j" but it was too late j she must hope with, and for .him. 
 la payment for his cautionary remark, she hinted, that, situated 
 as they were, misconstruction and jealousy might be formidable 
 foes to his peace of mind : that neither ' smiles nor frowns 
 were unerring indices of a girl's heart. He scouted the implied 
 suspicion. 
 
 " Jealous of these popinjays !" glancing disdainfully at the 
 black coats and white vests in attendance, as if he thought they 
 contained wound-up automata. 
 
 "The danger does not appear imminent ;" said she. "See 
 that you retain this satisfied state of mind." 
 
 Her countenance fell, and he heard Josephine say, simper- 
 ingly 
 
 " How dramatic ! pray, Mr. Holmes, is this a rehearsal, or a 
 real performance ?" 
 
 " Most ladies are so versed in love affairs, as to understand 
 the symptoms at a glance ; is not your eye sufficiently practiced ?" 
 asked he, with a curling lip. 
 
 " No, sir. I regret to say that the gentlemen of my acquaint- 
 ance are not sentimental or politic enough, to get up such scenes." 
 
 " I have no doubt you do deplore it." 
 
 "Why, Mr. Holmes!" ejaculated Ellen, with her gleeful 
 laugh ; " how ungallant !" 
 
 " You mistake. It was a skilful combination of veracity and 
 politeness. I must coincide with her, and am pleased that it 
 can be done without violence to my conscience. I wish I could 
 propose a cure for the evil you lament, Miss Read, but I anz 
 afraid it is irremediable. Men are obstinate animals." 
 
 Ida, alarmed, touched his foot; and the lynx eyes saw the 
 slight movement. A deadly light glowed there for an instant, 
 and was extinguished in softness, as she assailed Mr. Lacy. 
 
 '" In what far distant region of tho hall.' 
 have you kept yourself all the evening, Sir Truant ?"
 
 ALONE. 163 
 
 "Polyhymnia and Melpomene I" muttered Lynn. 
 
 I have been a fixture in this room most of the time;" replied 
 Morton. 
 
 " How selfish ! had you no sense of duty ? could you not 
 sacrifice your ease to secure the enjoyment of your friends ?" 
 
 " It would argue ridiculous vanity in me, to suppose that my 
 absence has detracted from the pleasures of the assembly ; and 
 from the aspirants for the smile of the reigning belles, so unim- 
 portant a personage is not missed." 
 
 "Can he like her?" thought Ida. "There is still an air 
 unlike other men, but he does not act or speak as he did to me. 
 He looks amused but very careless. Oh ! why must we have 
 two faces ?" 
 
 " Why did you stop me just now ?" queried Lynn, pettishly. 
 " I do not fear her ; I am rather anxious she should know the 
 extent of my dislike." 
 
 " How will that benefit either of you ?" inquired Ida. 
 
 " Don't play the saint ! much consideration you owe her ! 1 
 am a good hater : I cannot fawn and smile upon one, woman 
 though she^is beggared in principle and heart. She is capable 
 of anything. Mean and tyrannical those who deal with her, 
 must be tools or enemies, I choose the latter alternative. I 
 will not hear any justification. Don't I know cannot everybody 
 see, that she is the trouble of your life, that she would murder 
 you, but for the cowardly dread of detection !" 
 
 " You will counsel me next, to sleep with pistols under my 
 pillow ;" said she. " What an array of horrors you are manu- 
 facturing ?" 
 
 " It is as true as Gospel. Why disclaim it ? Charley told 
 me of the vixen before I saw her ; he can be civil I cannot 
 and what is more will not !" 
 
 " He sees, perhaps, that animosity to my friends may be an 
 engine to inflict suffering upon me ;" answered Ida, thinking of 
 Mr. Dermott. 
 
 Lynn coloured. " He intimated as much. I have not his 
 self-command ; he is a better, because a more unselfish friend 
 than I," 
 
 " I have no fault to find with you " was the reply. " It is a 
 comfort to feel, that come what may, I have twc brothers tc 
 depend upon."
 
 164 ALONE. 
 
 Charley was leaning upon the back of her chair, and this 
 remark was made partly to him. Lynn pressed her hand, as he 
 recovered himself from his lowly posture, but there was as much 
 meaning in the kind gaze of his undemonstrative friend. Their 
 affection was a rill of pure water, stealing through a region of 
 artificial light and bloom ; and people pretended to, or did mis- 
 interpret it. Josephine credited, doubted, and was impatient by 
 turns. One of them was the lover ; they were too friendly to 
 be bound upon the same errand. Lynn's manner was most 
 unequivocal but his attentions to Ellen ! Charley was not a 
 marrying man that was settled everybody said ; but the ten- 
 der respect he paid Ida ; the watchfulness that protected her 
 from impertinence and neglect, were weighty offsets to this 
 popular decision ; and again, opposed to these, were his dis- 
 interestedness in surrendering his post to Lynn, or any agreeable 
 companion, who sought it, and the absence of uneasiness in his 
 observation of her belleship. 
 
 Ida laughed at her mystification, as did those who effected it, 
 frequently concerting some manoeuvre, by which to lead her 
 further into the labyrinth. If Charley made one of the family 
 in the evening, the morrow brought Lynn to drive or walk. 
 Charley lent her books, and imported a writing-desk from Paris, 
 upon hearing Mrs. Dana say that Ida had made a fruitless 
 search through the city, for one of a particular description ; 
 Lynn appeared to have laid down the brush for the spade and 
 pruning knife, so abundant were the bouquets, left with Mr. 
 Holmes' compliments; and the walls of her chamber were 
 adorned with pictures, from subjects proposed or approved by 
 her. But amidst the frolicsome action of this drama, was col- 
 lecting matter for another, to be closed only with Life, to be 
 remembered, perchance, with Eternity; and the chief actor 
 danced and sang and sported, unaware of the importance of the 
 dawning era. All her life a dreamer, she did not observe that 
 the enshrined ideal was shaping itself into the real ; that the 
 far-off future, her hopes had sprung forward to greet, as if to 
 meet it half-way would hasten its lagging pace, was merging 
 into the brightening present. She had expected the summer to 
 burst upon her, with fragrance and music and sunshine, and took 
 no note of the swelling buds and violet perfume of Spring And
 
 ALONE. 165 
 
 here, let not him, who is wearied by the labors of Autumn, or 
 numbed by the frosts of Winter, close our humble story, with a 
 lofty scorn, or scathing displeasure at the prospect of a " love- 
 tale." Rather let him unfold his shut-up heart, and read there 
 of his own glad May, its dancing shadows, fairer than the 
 oblique sun-rays that fall upon his beaten track ; of the rosy 
 June, the redemption of its young sister's promise : and look- 
 ing sadly upon its dust-eaten blossoms, think, with loving pity, 
 of flower-cups which hold the dew-drop now, soon to fade and 
 shrivel as these have done ! 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 IT had been predicted from the premature beginning of the 
 winter's gaieties, that an ebb would occur before the Southern 
 carnival, Christmas, and the party-goers resolved to falsify the 
 prophecy. 
 
 Mrs. Dana called on the afternoon of the 24th to invite Ida 
 and Josephine to dine with her. " You will see only ourselves 
 and Mr. Holmes, who is Charley's shadow." 
 
 " A stupid set," was Josephine's reflection. " How pleasant," 
 Ida's ; and their answers corresponded. The former, " very sorry, 
 papa would always dine at home, Christmas-day ; he held it to 
 be a religious duty she verily believed/" laughing affectedly, " and 
 he could not eat unless she were there." 
 
 Ida said, " I will come with pleasure, thank you," and lost 
 all but the main purport of Miss Read's apology, in an eager 
 whisper from Elle, who was with her mother. 
 
 I don't hear, will I < please come to what ?' lifting her to her 
 lap. 
 
 Elle put her arms around her neck, and her mouth to her 
 ear. 
 
 " To your molasses stew !" said Ida, " indeed I will. When 
 is it to be ?" 
 
 Another important whisper. 
 
 Josephine, are we engaged for to-morrow evening ?" 
 
 I do not know," she replied, shortly.
 
 166 ALONE. 
 
 " I hope not," said Mrs. Dana. " Elle's head is full of her 
 frolic. I was describing to her the molasses stew I had every 
 Christmas, when I was a child, and nothing would do but I must 
 promise her one for < being a good girl/ " 
 
 " She deserves it, I know," said Ida, fondly. " I will come, 
 Elle, if I leave fifty grown people's parties." 
 
 " Will you, too ?" asked the child, going up to Josephine. 
 Mrs. Dana pressed the invitation. 
 
 " I am not certain, but I have engaged to go somewhere else," 
 said Josephine, smiling heartlessly into the pure little face. " If 
 I can, I will do myself the honor, Miss Dana." 
 
 The wretched attempt at playfulness actually frightened Elle, 
 who shrunk again to the side of her friend. 
 
 " Are you serious in promising to go to this babyish fal-lal ?" 
 snapped Josephine, the minute Mrs. Dana was gone. 
 
 " I am." 
 
 "Did not you hear that Anna Talbot is to receive company 
 to-morrow night ?" 
 
 "Yes; and I am rejoiced that Elle's invitation was earliest. 
 There are Anna and Ellen Morris." 
 
 " I haven't time to stay," exclaimed the young lady, throwing 
 herself upon the sofa. " You both must spend a sociable even- 
 ing with me a Christmas jubilee egg-nogg, country-dances, 
 etc. "We are to have a high time. You are disengaged ?" 
 
 " I am," said Josephine, promptly, " and if I were not, I 
 could not resist the temptation to send a 'regret/ and go to 
 your house." 
 
 e{ Thank you and you, Ida may I count upon you both ?" 
 drawing up her cloak. Ida declined courteously; "she was 
 engaged to Mrs. Dana." 
 
 " Oh !" began Anna, disappointed. 
 
 " Is it not too silly ?" interposed Josephine. " It is a child's 
 party a molasses stew think of it!" 
 
 " You are joking, Ida," said Ellen, " excuse yourself to Elle 
 we want you !" 
 
 "Not as much as my little cousin does. I cannot break my 
 word to her." 
 
 " Little cousin !" smiled Anna. " I thought the relationship 
 was closer. I will not give up the hope of persuading you.
 
 ALONE. 167 
 
 The nicest beaux in town are to be there Mr. Thornton, Mr. 
 Russell, and Mr. Villet, and Mr. Lacy, and a score more da 
 come I'" 
 
 " I cannot !" said Ida, with a pang. 
 
 " Papa will not be pleased with our going out separately ;" 
 said Josephine, that night. 
 
 " He does not object to my going to Mr. Dana's alone;" was 
 the response. 
 
 " Thinking of number one, as usual, my amiable lady ! I tell 
 you what ! I shall not demean myself, by playing puss-in-the- 
 corner, and smearing my hands with treacle, when I might be 
 at Mr. Talbot's, in decent company." 
 
 " As you like. If you represent the character of the com- 
 pany to your father, he will probably insist upon your mixing 
 with them." 
 
 " He ! he !" tittered Rachel, who was in waiting. Josephine 
 flounced out of the room. 
 
 Christmas gift, Miss Ida !" Her maid stood at her bedside, 
 in the grey morning light. " Christmas gift !" called out the 
 passers-by, as they encountered each other in the street. " Hur- 
 rah for Christmas I" shouted squads of boys, at the corner, to a 
 brilliant accompaniment of pop-crackers. 
 
 Ida heard it all, with a spirit out of tune with mirth. No 
 gifts were prepared for herj the Thanksgiving-day was one of 
 mourning to the homeless. She had anticipated a visit from 
 Carry, during the holidays ; but her last letter had dashed the 
 hope. Mammy" was recovering from a severe fit of sickness, 
 and she would not leave her. Ida wished she were not to dine at 
 Mr. Dana's ; she was not fit for society, and sad enough, without 
 the sight of joys, which reminded her of her losses and wants. 
 In this discontented mood, she went down stairs. No Christmas 
 yet ! Mr. Read grunted to her formal bow, and Josephine said 
 " the coffee was cold it had been on the table so long." Mr. 
 Read finished his second cup, and pulled out his pocket-book. 
 
 " People will be asking if I made you a present. Thank 
 goodness ! Christmas comes but once a year. Two would break 
 a man. There!" fillipping a roll of notes to his daughter. 
 " Don't waste it upon gimcracks and finery. If women had to 
 earn money, they wouldn't be so crazy to spend it. You must
 
 168 ALONE. 
 
 have some, I suppose :" and he laid a smaller bundle upon Ida'e 
 plate. 
 
 No, sir ! I have money of my " but he did not wait to hear 
 her through. As she quitted the table, Josephine pointed to 
 the untouched " present." 
 
 " Take it, if you choose !" said Ida, contemptuously. " I am 
 not a dependant or a beggar I" 
 
 Josephine loved money, and pocketed it. " And the old cur- 
 mudgeon is none the wiser I" chuckled the dutiful daughter. 
 
 Ida stretched herself upon a lounge, and set seriously about 
 reasoning herself out of her despondency. She thought of Carry, 
 and Lynn and Charley ; but they came reluctantly, with selfishly 
 happy faces; with their schemes and amusements and dearer 
 friends. Mr. and Mrs. Dana pitied her; this was the spring 
 of their kindness ! and her haughty soul winced at the idea. 
 Hope and Fancy crept, with trailing wings, into hiding-places 
 until the sun should shine out she sullenly hugged her misery. 
 What visionary who reads this, but has suffered from these 
 morbose fits ? 
 
 " Well ?" said she, tartly, as Rachel tiptoed across the floor. 
 
 " I thought you was asleep;" replied the sable damsel. 
 
 " I am awake do you want anything ?" 
 
 Rachel rubbed her chin, gave her turban a twitch, and fumbled 
 in her pocket. " Law ! I aint lost it, I know ! It must be in 
 my bosom I" 
 
 Ida, awakened by her movements, watched her as she pro- 
 duced a tiny packet from the last-mentioned receptacle. With 
 an odd compound of awkwardness and affection, she slipped a 
 ring upon her mistress' finger. 
 
 " Thar ! it fits ! don't it ?" intensely complacent. 
 
 " But where did you get it, Rachel ? is it for me ?" 
 
 "For you, and nobody else, Miss Ida. I was determined 
 your nose should not be made a bridge of by everybody; so I've 
 been a savin' my spare coppers (and no servant of yours wants 
 for 'em,) and when you was admirin' that ar ring of Miss 
 Josephine's, I says to myself < She shall have one !' and when 
 I'd cleaned up your room, I took off down town to the jewellerers 
 and thar 'tis wishin' you a Merry Christmas, and an ever- 
 lastin' Happy New Year, ma'am !" stepping back with a flourish-
 
 ALONE. 169 
 
 lag courtesy. Ida tried to smile at her peroration, and failing, 
 burst into tears. Rachel was transfixed. She was not used to 
 hysterics, and had never seen her mistress weep before. Her 
 consternation was a speedy restorative ; and Ida finally made her 
 sensible that she was not grieved or displeased, but overjoyed at 
 her gift. Then the voluble Abigail recollected " somethin' else" 
 she had to communicate. 
 
 " Aint that tall gentleman, with black whiskers, that visits 
 here so constant, named Mr. Lacy t" 
 
 Yes." 
 
 " I thought so. When I went into the jewellerer's he was a 
 standin' at the counter, buyin' a pair of gold spectacles for his 
 mother I reckon. I heard him say they was for a lady. I 
 asked for the rings, and the shop-boy gave me a string of brassy, 
 ugly things and says I < I want a handsome one, sir, for my 
 mistis.' 
 
 11 ' Your mistis !' says he. * Them's plenty good for her !' 
 
 " ' Are these the best you have ?' says Mr. Lacy, sort o' 
 frownin' and talkin' like he was his master fifty times over. 
 
 " ' No, sir would you like to see some t' says the boy, turnin' 
 white. 
 
 " < Bring them !' says Mr. Lacy ; and when they come, he 
 told me, with the sweetest smile, and so respectful ! < These cost 
 a great deal of money do you know it ?' So I showed him 
 what I had, and he said 'twould do. Bimeby, I picked out two, 
 and could not tell which was the prettiest. I kept a-lookin' at 
 one, and then at 'tother, and says he, < Can't you choose between 
 them ?' 
 
 " ' No, sir,' says I. 
 
 " ' I think that the handsomest ;' says he, pintin* to one, and 
 that's it you've got on your finger, this minute, Miss Ida. He 
 seed that low-lived boy give me the right change, and when I 
 curchyed and said, < I'm mightily obliged to you, sir ;' he said, 
 'You are welcome,' just like I'd been the Governor ! Wo 
 colored folks know a gentleman when we see him, and Tie is a 
 real born one." 
 
 The ring was very elegant, and the blood mounted to Ida's 
 temple's, as she toyed with it. 
 
 " Perhaps, it was not Mr. Lacy ?" said she, in a tone of 
 15
 
 170 ALONE. 
 
 extreme indifference. "Where had you met him, that you 
 know him ?" 
 
 " I never met him nowhar. I seed him one Sunday, when 
 he walked home with you from church, and I was at the upstairs 
 window, and once through the dinin'-room door when he waa 
 here to supper, and once through the parlor window." 
 
 " Peeping ! Rachel ! If he had seen you, he would not think 
 as highly of your manners, as you do of his." 
 
 " Peeping ! Law ! Miss Ida, them was sly glimpses, permis- 
 cuous-like, you know. He warn't a-gwine to catch me." 
 
 A longer inspection of the ring. There was no blush this 
 time, but the smile was happier. The motive was then as pure 
 as the action was generous. The little shower had purified the 
 murky atmosphere. This token of remembrance, at a moment 
 when she believed herself forgotten, was none the less dear that 
 the donor was a poor slave. It was the fruit of self-denying 
 affection ; and had no sooner clasped her finger, than it acted as 
 the Open Sesame to a store-house of untold riches. " It has 
 taught me more than one lesson," she murmured. 
 
 Rachel was garrulously happy. 
 
 " I do-clar, Miss Ida, you've been gettin' prettier ever since I 
 come in;" said she, standing off to survey the effect of her 
 toilette. " I hope thar'll be a crowd at Mars' John's. Is it a 
 dinin'-day ?" 
 
 " No a family party." 
 
 " That's a pity ! I 'spect thar's another present 1 It never 
 rains but it pours." 
 
 The footman said Mr. Dana was below. Charley waited to 
 escort her to his brother's ; and Ida began to realise, as he paid 
 the compliments of the season, in a style, eminently Char- 
 leyish/' that Christmas had indeed come. 
 
 " Christmas gift ! Christmas gift ! cousin Ida," shouted two 
 infantine voices; and Charley the less, and Elle scampered 
 down the porch-steps to salute her. " Now mamma ! now for 
 the tree ! She is here I" 
 
 " Oh ! Mrs. Dana ! have not they seen their tree ? What 
 suspense for the dear creatures I" 
 
 " It was their wish ; and their father would not consent that 
 the door should be unlocked until the family were assembled."
 
 ALONE 171 
 
 Here is the last straggler !" exclaimed Lynn, springing 
 into the group, shaking hands with his friends, and kissing the 
 children. " We are all here I" 
 
 At a given signal, the door of the mysterious room was un- 
 folded, and revealed the tree ; its precious load glittering and 
 gay in the clear winter day. Headed by " papa," and closed 
 by the nurse and baby, the procession performed a circuit, and 
 then formed a ring. Uncle Charley was distributor; accom- 
 panying each gift by an appropriate remark. For Ida, there 
 were a pair of ear-rings from John Dana ; a bracelet of fair 
 hair, which did not require the simple " Carry" upon the 
 chased clasp, to signify from whose brow it had been shorn ; 
 a handsomely-bound edition of Shelly's works Lynn's taste ; 
 Charley gave a card case, a Chinese curiosity, and evaded her 
 thanks and praises by pointing out a resemblance in the most 
 grotesque figure, carved thereupon, to himself, a circumstance, 
 which he protested, induced him to select it. Among the 
 white buds of a perpetual rose-tree, hung a card " Elle and 
 Charley to their dear cousin ;" and Mrs. Dana finished the list 
 with a rose-wood work-box, supplied with every implement of 
 female industry. 
 
 " Is this being friendless ?" asked Ida, inly, looking at her 
 acquisitions. " For the rest of the day, I will be grateful and 
 contented." 
 
 The morning was spent in the nursery. On Christmas day, 
 its door could not bar intruders ; there were no men or women ; 
 all were children, Charley whipped his namesake's top ; rocked 
 the cradle ; and instructed Elle in domestic economy, as he 
 helped arrange her baby-house. The dinner-bell, rung an hour 
 earlier than usual, on account of the wee ones taking that meal 
 with the " big folks," was faintly heard in the din of a famous 
 game of romps. The afternoon was less noisy ; the children 
 fell asleep, wearied with frolic ; the gentlemen walked out ; Mrs. 
 Dana was busy; and so it was, that Ida sat alone in the 
 drawing-room, at nightfall, watching the passing of the pink 
 light from the clouds, and thinking " Everything to gladden 
 me, and yet ill at ease ! murmuring soul, be still I" And then 
 she wished for the society of a calmer mind, that should speak 
 peace to the heavings of her unquiet spirit; for the compre-
 
 172 A L X E . 
 
 hensive charity, the benign philosophy, which hoped for the best, 
 and argued for the right this was her version of the outgoing 
 of the woman's heart " Would he were here !" 
 
 But Elle's friends came early, and she had no time for higher 
 thoughts than filling small mouths with bread and butter 
 " run-the-thimble," the vexed question of "how many miles 
 to Babylon ;" and Chicken-me-chicken-me-craney-crow ;" pas- 
 times, whose barbarous names cause the refined juveniles of this 
 precocious '54, to join their gloved hands in thanksgiving, that 
 their lot was not cast in those times ! As the dignified master 
 of the house deigned to participate in the ceremonies, we trust 
 our heroine will not suffer a very grievous letting-down in the 
 opinion of these formidable critics, for the prominent parts she 
 assumed. A circle was ordered for " Fox and goose." Charley 
 played Reynard, and Ida, goose the first. The children enjoyed, 
 without fully understanding the game, and she had to keep the 
 character longer than the laws prescribed. Round and round 
 they flew circling and doubling the spectators screaming their 
 applause and she ran directly against a gentlemen who was 
 entering. Her impetus was such that she would have fallen, 
 but for his extended arm. A laughing voice said something, 
 unintelligible in her confusion. 
 
 " Oh ! Mr. Lacy !" cried Elle. "I was so afraid you wouldn't 
 come !" 
 
 " I promised did I not ?" said he, stooping to kiss her. 
 
 " Yes, sir, but I thought maybe you'd rather go to Miss 
 Anna Talbot's party, like Miss " 
 
 " Elle ! Elle ! no, no I" whispered Ida, in time to suppress the 
 name. 
 
 " You see I had rather be at yours ;" he returned, without 
 noticing the unfinished sentence. " What are you playing ?" 
 
 " ' Did you ever see a wild gooso 
 
 Sailing on the ocean ?' " 
 sang Charley. 
 
 " ' The wild goose's motion 
 
 Was a mighty funny notion.' " 
 
 he added, aside to Ida. 
 
 No forced spirits now ! The innocent fun the converse of 
 the social circle, after the little ones had gone the walk home,
 
 ALONE. 173 
 
 beneath the tremulous stars the " good night" and pressure, 
 whose thrill lingered in her fingers 'till sleep sealed her eyes 
 all were sources of unutterable pleasure pleasures born from 
 one influence flowing from one presence. 
 
 A month later, Josephine returned from an evening concert, 
 with a violent toothache, the consequence of the sudden transition 
 from the steaming hall to the ice-cold air without. She tossed 
 and groaned in agony through the night ; by morning the pain 
 abated, a relief for which she was wickedly ungrateful, when she 
 beheld reflected in the mirror, a tumefaction of the cheek, nearly 
 closing one eye, and otherwise marring the symmetry of her 
 features. The pain came back at intervals during the day; 
 and with fretfulness, threw her into a fever. Dr. Ballard was 
 sent for. It was late in the evening when she awoke from the 
 slumber, gained by the anodyne he administered. The rain was 
 plashing against the window ; there was no other sound except 
 a subdued murmur of distant voices. There were visitors in the 
 parlor who had ventured through the storm ? Her sharpened 
 senses caught manly tones tones she thought she recognised ; 
 and then Ida's rippling, joyous laugh smote her unwilling ear. 
 The conversation became lower and more serious; and she 
 could endure no more. Unmindful of health and prudence, she 
 hurried on a dressing-gown, wrapped a shawl about her head, 
 and glided down stairs, as stealthily as a cat. The front room 
 only was warmed and lighted, but the folding-doors were ajar. 
 Mr. Lacy stood by the mantel, hat in hand, yet in no hurry to 
 depart. He was playing with a rosebud he had plucked from a 
 vase near, but as unconscious of its beauty as of the lateness of the 
 hour. The expression with which he regarded the earnest speaker 
 before him was not to be mistaken. It even seemed that he 
 would have it understood, for a proud smile trembled over hia 
 mouth as her eye avoided his. 
 
 Josephine felt turned to stone. By a singular fatality, she 
 had, up to this time, remained ignorant of the growing intimacy 
 between these two. We have seen that many of their inter- 
 views were unknown to her, although some of them occurred in 
 her very presence; and Ida, in obedience to Lynn's caution, had 
 guarded against any appearance of rivalship. Now, jealousy 
 and perception awoke together at one sweeping glance back- 
 15*
 
 174 ALONE. 
 
 ward, she saw herself slighted foiled duped ! and she grew 
 faint at the sight of the frightful results of her lack of vigilance, 
 which rushed overwhelmingly upon her mind. Her native 
 shrewdness soon came to her aid. Matters were not so despe- 
 rate. There was no word of love; she breathed more freely. 
 " Not yet ! not yet !" she hissed, under her breath ; and the 
 small hands clenched in passionate resolve, as she added 
 "never!" The leave-taking was full of feeling, but friends 
 parted as kindly. The outer door clanged to ; and Ida sank into 
 her chair. Buried in the cushions, she sat, looking into the 
 blaze, a smile of ineffable tenderness illumining her face; her 
 cheeks bright with unwonted scarlet. The patter of the rain 
 upon the panes but lulled her into deeper reverie. And in con- 
 trast to a foreground so rich and warm, in its glowing colors and 
 balmy air, and dreams of love and hope was the dark, chill 
 background, with its shape of evil, hideous in her distorted fea- 
 tures and glowering hatred. Ida stooped suddenly. It was to 
 pick up the bruised bud Morton had dropped. She looked 
 around hurriedly, and with a more vivid blush, raised it to her 
 lips, and hid it in her bosom. 
 
 " Rose-buds are not the only things which are played with for 
 a time, then trampled under foot, as you shall learn ere long, 
 my love-lorn damsel I" said the wily schemer, stealing back to 
 her chamber. 
 
 " With us, now, it is war to the death !" 
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 NOTHING appeared less likely, at this period, than the fulfil- 
 ment of Lynn's prognostications of his destiny. He collected 
 encouragement and praise at every turn. A Bayard in society 
 a Raphael at the easel, he bore a distinguished part in the lioni- 
 zation of the day. He sped well, too, in his wooing. A quick 
 fancy and impressible heart could hardly resist the attractions 
 of his person and genius ; and the spice of coquetry, generally 
 predominant in Ellen's disposition, lay dormant, as she heark- 
 ened to the voice of love. She made but one reservation in
 
 ALONE. 176 
 
 pledging him her troth that their engagement should be secret. 
 He would have had it proclaimed through the land he so joyed 
 in the bliss he had won ; but he bowed to the scarcely uttered 
 wish, respecting the maiden modesty that dictated the request. 
 To Ida and Charley it was divulged. He would not accept a 
 happiness they were forbidden to share. For a few brief weeks 
 this knew no shade or diminution; but a change came. Ida 
 discovered it; but he was silent, and she would not extort con- 
 fidence. It was a trial to see his clouded countenance and fitful 
 spirits; yet she knew his peculiarly sensitive organization, and 
 hoped the evil was magnified by its medium. In this hope she 
 finally persuaded him to speak. 
 
 They met at a Fancy Fair. Ida was in an embowered recess, 
 Mr. Lacy for a companion, and Charley hanging around to play 
 propriety. Lynn entered alone, and did not attach himself to 
 any person or party. He marched from end to end of the room ; 
 with folded arms, and a dogged look, too foreign to him, not to 
 impress one unpleasantly. He perceived Ida after awhile, and 
 acknowledged her presence by touching his hat, with no loss of 
 gloominess. Ida was distrait; even Mr. Lacy failed to charm; 
 and he was aware of it. He guessed, too, from the direction of 
 her eyes, the working of her thoughts, and proposed a visit to 
 the refreshment table, which stood in the path of the prome- 
 naders. Lynn could not brush by without speaking. The first 
 tone of Ida's voice affected him. The dull black of his eyes 
 became lustrous, and the long lashes fell over them to conceal 
 the momentary weakness. She would not let him go. She 
 asked him questions without number or meaning, not waiting for 
 answers, until she had eaten her ice ; when she gave her glass 
 to Mr. Lacy, and with an apology, his eye said was unnecessary, 
 took Lynn's arm. He confessed all, as she had determined he- 
 should. It was a common tale; the scrupulousness of a love, 
 made up of delicacy and truth, and the thoughtless trifling of a 
 girl who felt her power; so she explained it, but the young 
 lover mourned the death of his first-born hope. 
 
 " I would as soon speak lightly of my dead sister, as tamper 
 with her affection," said he. " Your excuse that she does these 
 things to try mine if you are right proves that she neve: 
 loved me."
 
 176 ALONE. 
 
 " But why did I say she applied the test ? In girlish caprice 
 foolish enough but harmless as to intention. Have you for- 
 gotten what women are in their ' hour of ease ?' if danger or 
 sorrow menaced you, she would stand by you to the last. She 
 loves you, Lynn, I am assured of this." 
 
 " Not so am I. I called there this evening. She had pro- 
 mised to accompany me hither, but she was ' engaged with com- 
 pany!' Those addlepates, Pemberton and Talbot were there, 
 doling out their senseless prattle ; and she was gracious to them, 
 repellant to me. If Pemberton were not a puppy, I would not 
 sleep before I crossed swords with him. She waltzed with him 
 last night. I had told her that I would not invite any lady, 
 whom I respected, to engage in that most disgusting of dances. 
 Conceive of my feelings, when, within the hour, I saw her whirl- 
 ing down the hall in his arms ! And the coxcomb's insufferable 
 impudence ! if he thwarts me again, I will cane him I" 
 
 " You will not ! Go and see Ellen to-morrow, when there is 
 no one to annoy you, by preventing a private interview. Set 
 before her the unkindness, the want of generosity apparent in 
 her conduct ; assert your rights with dignity, and your resolu- 
 tion to uphold them." 
 
 " I would not pain her, Ida. She has chosen the easiest 
 method of undeceiving me; better this, than a life-time of 
 misery to both. She said, the other day, to a gentle reproach 
 for an open slight, which would have offended a vainer man, 
 mortally, that she did it to mislead others. 'A young lady/ 
 she remarked, < sinks into a cypher, if it is suspected that she 
 is betrothed. I have not had my lawful amount of admiration 
 yet/ 
 
 < " Ellen !' said I, < I have loved you as man never loved 
 woman before ; have believed you pure and high-minded. If I 
 thought that the despicable coquetry you insinuate, caused you 
 to insist upon the concealment of our engagement, I would 
 trumpet it to the world, and then break it myself!'" 
 
 "Lynn, remember where you are! You are too harsh; it was 
 a jest." 
 
 " The manner displeased me most, and to-night, when I saw 
 those fops could I be patient ?" 
 
 Their conversation and saunter were prolonged.
 
 ALONE. 177 
 
 "Are you going home to-night?" asked Josephine, gaily, 
 hailing them in one of their rounds. " They are extinguishing 
 the lamps." 
 
 Ida changed color as she saw that she had Mr. Lacy's arm. 
 Lynn observed it, and waited for her. 
 
 " You are fast walkers go on," said Josephine, at the door. 
 As they passed, Ida had a view of Mr. Lacy's features. They 
 were so pale and rigid, that she started. He answered her look 
 of apprehension with one that froze her hlood. 
 
 What had she done to draw down that stern, yet sorrowful 
 rohuke? 
 
 " The look you wear 
 A heart may heal or break." 
 
 Her pillow was damp that night. 
 
 Mr. Thornton had obtained a signal victory in his first import- 
 ant cause. Already, his legal acumen and oratorical powers 
 marked him in the public eye for usefulness and fame ; and on 
 the evening after the delivery of the verdict, he called together 
 a band of select spirits to rejoice with him. The banquet was 
 well ordered ; comprising the rarities of the season, and a variety 
 of wines, varied by the introduction of agreeable non-intoxicants, 
 coffee, tea, iced sherbet, etc. These unwonted accompaniments of 
 a bachelor supper were looked upon with an evil eye by some of 
 the guests. They were jealous of innovations which might end in 
 puritanical abstinence ; and their fears were further excited that 
 three of their small number preferred the less stimulating beve- 
 rages. That Mr. Lacy's example should be copied by Mr. Comp- 
 ton, a fellow-student, was not surprising, as they were intimate, 
 and known as members of the same church; but at Charles 
 Dana's rejection of the social glass, there was a hum of excla- 
 mations and inquiries, which was calmed by his imperturbability, 
 and the polite tact of the host. Morton could not unriddle the 
 conduct of his friend, for he knew that his most trivial action 
 was not meaningless. " Not a convert, Charley ?" he said, when 
 the rest were in full cry after some inspiring subject. 
 
 " Unfortunately, no. It is from a motive of expediency that 
 I abstain to-night." 
 
 They sat together, and as he spoke, Mr. Lacy chanced to 
 remark Lynn, who was opposite. Be drank deeply, but hi?
 
 178 ALONE. 
 
 potations had not I ad time to ignite the fire that burned in his 
 eyes and cheeks. His talk was a volcanic eloquence, reckless as 
 to course and consequence ; and his laugh had the peal of a 
 maniac's yell. In real alarm, Morton turned to his neighbor. 
 Charley was on the alert; not outwardly he might have been 
 more grave and taciturn than common, but there were no evi- 
 dences of anxiety. Morton divined his feelings, by a glance he 
 saw exchanged between him and his heated friend ; a look of 
 warning and appeal on one side, of anguish, scornful in its 
 bitterness, on the other, and the torrent rolled on as before. 
 
 During the giving of toasts, Mr. Lacy and Charley fell into a 
 quiet chat, only pausing to lift their glasses in courtesy to the 
 authors, ignorant, most of the time, of the sentiment proposed. 
 Lynn was more sedate ; from delirium he was relapsing into a 
 comatose state, when he was brought to his feet by a toast to his 
 art, coupled with a neatly turned compliment to himself, from 
 Mr. Thornton. His unpremeditated reply was beautiful and 
 touching. He was under the very spur of genius ; rich meta- 
 phors, apt classical allusions, and delicate pathos poured from 
 his lips, as thoughts from his brain j his rapt hearers scarcely 
 conscious that he employed the machinery of words. The 
 applause that succeeded the last musical echo was deafening. 
 For a moment, the wild glare that had distressed Morton, dis- 
 appeared, and with a happy, grateful smile, he bowed his thanks 
 for this spontaneous tribute of approbation and regard. 
 
 "Egad!" said Pemberton, "you have mistaken your calling, 
 Holmes you had better burn up your canvass, and take to 
 stump-speaking, you'd make more money by it." 
 
 Angry frowns and rebuking eyes were directed to the drunken 
 speaker. 
 
 " If stumps and blockheads claim kindred, I shall not need to 
 go far to exercise my vocation/' said Lynn, hotly. 
 
 Ha ! ha !" laughed the other, with a violent affectation of 
 derision. 
 
 " Don't be frightened, gentlemen ! Mr. Holmes and myself 
 bave wrestled upon another battle-field, and I can afford to forgive 
 him, from the soreness of his defeat. Your friend and instruct- 
 ress, that loud-tongued virago, Ida Ross, could not have 
 uttered "
 
 ALONE. 179 
 
 Like a wounded panther, Lynn cleared the table at a bound, 
 and grasped his throat. A general rush was made to the spot, 
 and they were parted before either sustained serious injury. 
 Pemberton had drawn a dirk at the attack, but it was wrested 
 from him by Mr. Lacy. Reconciliation was impossible in the 
 excited state of the combatants. Charley prudently withdrew 
 his friend, relying upon time and reflection to prepare the mind 
 of each for overtures and concessions. Lynn did not speak until 
 they reached his room; then, extricating his arm from Charley's 
 hold, he demanded in a high tone, what had been his object in 
 terminating the conflict. If not finished there, you know it 
 must bo somewhere." 
 
 " I do not see the necessity," was the reply. " It is a drunken 
 broil, of which you will be ashamed to-morrow. No man in his 
 senses would have noticed him as you did. He shall have a 
 cow-hiding for his last speech; I would not disgrace a more 
 honorable weapon by using it against him. I am mortified, Lynn 
 I hoped you were learning to control those childish fits of 
 passion." 
 
 " Am I to be crossed and bullied forever by a meddling fool ? 
 Is it not enough that he has helped to wreck my peace, but he 
 must taunt me with it ?" cried Lynn passionately. He ought 
 not to live, and I do not care to !" 
 
 " You certainly are not fit to die." said Charley composedly, 
 " or you would not rave so like a madman. Be sane for five 
 minutes; by what means has your happiness been put in his 
 power ?" 
 
 Lynn was a humored, wayward child, and this cold severity did 
 more to quiet him than an hour's rhetorical pleading. Charley 
 listened with knitting brows, to a rehearsal of his story to Ida, 
 and an account of that day's interview with Ellen. She was 
 dressed for a ride with Mr. Pemberton, and exasperated by this 
 new example of her disrespect to him in encouraging a man he 
 despised Lynn had spoke hastily angrily. She retorted with 
 equal warmth, and after a turbulent scene they parted. Pem- 
 berton arrived as he was leaving, and his malicious twinkle told 
 that he comprehended and enjoyed the state of affairs. Like 
 Ida, Charley had never heartily approved of this match ; but his 
 indignation towards Ellen was none the less on this account. H
 
 180 ALONE.. 
 
 saw, in her behaviour, the most culpable flirting, and he said BO 
 to Lynn. He shook his head sadly. 
 
 " Convince me of that and you destroy my faith in woman. 
 No! I believe she once fancied she loved ine; but I have become 
 obnoxious to her. It is my fate. The last dream of hope is 
 over I have nothing to live for now." 
 
 He covered his face with his hands. Charley remained with 
 him all night, an uninvited visitor. His host neglected him 
 entirely, never speaking, and seemingly unmindful of his pre- 
 sence. Whenever Charley awoke, he heard him pacing the 
 floor, or saw the outline of his figure, dark and still, at the 
 window, gazing into the black night. 
 
 " You will not do anything in the settlement of this nonsensi- 
 cal matter until you confer with me ?" requested Charley, on 
 saying " Good bye." 
 
 "I shall not move in the affair," was the laconic rejoinder. 
 
 " You will acquaint me with Pemberton's proposals ?" 
 
 "If I think proper yes you shall know in good time." 
 
 Charley was going out, and did not catch the exact import of 
 these words. He proceeded with the business of the day, com- 
 paratively at ease. Knowing Pembertou to be an arrant coward 
 at heart, bully as he was, he did not fear a renewal of the sub- 
 ject from him. 
 
 Ida was alone that evening. Mr. Head was in the country ; 
 and Josephine, having waited until visiting hours were over, 
 went off to bed. Ida liked to sit up late, but she usually pre- 
 ferred the snug comfort of her room to the parlors. To-night 
 she lingered over a book, reading and musing, with a tincture of 
 gloom in her thought-pictures. She was pondering upon the 
 instability of earthly plans and hopes. " How true that the 
 brightest light produces the deepest shadows!" The words arose 
 unexpectedly to her lips. In the loosely-linked chain of reverie, 
 she did not know fchat they had their origin in the memory of a 
 slighter circumstance than a word in a look. 
 
 Kachel was coming to sec after her, and hearing a ring as she 
 tripped by the front door, opened it. A man handed her a 
 package saying, briefly, "For Miss Ross," and instantly 
 vanished. Ida saw Lynn's hand in the superscription of the 
 bulky parcel, and broke the seal. Two letters were within it j
 
 . ALONE. 181 
 
 one directed to Ellen Morris ; the other, enclosing a miniature 
 to herself. 
 
 " My best, truest friend !" she read, " I cannot trust myself 
 to speak the farewell my heart indites to one who has been a 
 loving and faithful sister to me. It would unman me, and I have 
 occasion for all my manliness at this juncture. I have no regret 
 in the prospect of leaving a world where my horoscope was cast 
 in clouds and storm; I cannot undergo the pangs of seeing 
 your grief. Destiny will be accomplished, Ida, however insig- 
 nificant the instrument with which it works. Charley will 
 inform you of the baseness of that which has severed the one 
 shining thread of my existence. Heaven grant you may never 
 know the hatefulness of life, when that for which you thought, 
 toiled, lived, is torn from you! I have struck the reptile who 
 trailed over my Eden-flowers, and reared his head insultingly 
 amid the ruin he helped to effect, and in his unspent malice he 
 would sting me to death. The sting of death is gone ! there will 
 be unintentional mercy in the stroke that releases me. I have 
 been mad I am calmer now. If I know my own heart, I wish 
 him no evil ; I shall not attempt his life I will not imbrue my 
 hands in the blood of the murdered. 
 
 " You will give the enclosed to my poor Ellen < my Ellen !' 
 she has forbidden me to call her by that name. It may be, she 
 will pity, when no more, the wretch she could not love when 
 living. 
 
 " My sister and friend ! what can I say to you ? Forgive my 
 ingratitude in being willing to die before I have made some feeblo 
 return for your goodness! Will you wear or keep this image of 
 him, by whom you were never forgotten not in the death- 
 agony ? I have written to Charley, but he will not receive the 
 letter until all is over. I was unwilling to risk this its con, 
 tents are too sacred. You are dreaming in your innocent slum- 
 bers, of years of peace and joy I shall not close my eyes 
 but in the sleep that knows no awakening to care and woe. < The 
 blessing of him who is ready to perish' be upon you ! 
 
 " LYNN." 
 
 Ida's impulse was to scream for help ; but ere her palsied 
 tongue did her bidding, the futility of all attempts to save him 
 16
 
 182 ALONE. 
 
 Btared upon her ; the hour nearly midnight ; the illness j>f their 
 man-servant; Mr. Read's absence; her ignorance of Lynn's 
 locality or plans beyond his suicidal intention towered, frown- 
 ing spectres, mountain-high, each with its sepulchral " Impos- 
 sible !" Some women would have swooned some sunk down 
 to weep in impotent despair ; the shock over, her energetic 
 spirit rallied to meet the emergency. He should be saved ! at 
 the peril of her life, if need be what were personal convenience 
 and safety ? 
 
 Charley the sagacious, collected friend what mortal could 
 do, he would she must see him. Rachel had not spoken, terri- 
 fied by her mistress' expression and manner. It was a relief to 
 aid her in any way ; she brought, without a second's parley, the 
 cloak and hood Ida ordered, and equipped herself to attend her. 
 "Take the key/' said Ida, as they went out of the door; and 
 they sped on their way. The night was dark, and for whole 
 squares not a light was visible. Half of the distance to Mr. 
 Dana's was traversed without encountering a single being, when 
 they approached a lighted door-way, in which two gentlemen 
 were standing. Fearing to attract their attention by her hurried 
 gait, Ida slackened her pace, and pulled her hood over her face. 
 She heard one say If the spasms do not return he may not 
 want watchers to-morrow night;" and a feeling of security stole 
 upon her. The friends of the suffering would not molest her, 
 whose mission was one of mercy. A few squares further on, 
 they were met by a watchman. Rachel made out his badge of 
 office through the obscurity, and pressed to her mistress' side 
 The man stopped. His keen eye discerned her color. 
 
 "Your pass!" said he, confronting Rachel. 
 
 " Her mistress is with her," answered Ida, emboldened by the 
 exigency. 
 
 He bowed respectfully, and pursued his beat. Ida's heart 
 throbbed loudly, but she stifled her fears by a reconsideration of 
 Lynn's extremity of danger, " it was no time for nervous fail- 
 ings." Rachel did not possess such a tonic, and had seen every 
 shadow, heard every rustle of the breeze. 
 
 Before their adventure with the dreaded " guard," she had 
 known that one of the gentlemen above-mentioned had taken 
 the same route with themselves ; keeping, however, upon the
 
 ALONE. 183 
 
 other side of the street ; and after Ida's ready response removed 
 her apprehension of "the cage" and Mayor's court, she saw him 
 still upon her track worse ! crossing towards them. Overcome 
 with terror, she clutched her mistress' arm, and by a frantic 
 gesture, directed her to the object of alarm. He was within six 
 feet of them ; and startled by his proximity, and the fright of her 
 attendant, she stood still. A minute of breathless suspense, and 
 the stranger was at her side. 
 
 " Miss Koss," he said, in a low but confident tone. " This is 
 a strange hour for a lady to be in the street with such attend- 
 ance !" 
 
 His stern, cold address could not repress her thrilling pleasure. 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Lacy l"^ she exclaimed, clinging to his arm, and 
 giving way, for the first time, to tears. " Life and death depend 
 upon my action the life of one very dear to us both you would 
 not reproach me if you knew " 
 
 " Ida ! dear Ida !" said he, mindful only of her sorrow. " Can 
 there be reason for this excessive grief? Your fears have misled 
 you. Of whom do you speak ?" 
 
 She could not speak quite yet, but her sobs were subsiding 
 under his soothing. 
 
 Will you not trust yourself and our friend to me, Ida ?" 
 
 She looked up. " Yes," she said, simply. 
 
 He put her hand within his arm. " First, tell me where you 
 are going." 
 
 To Mr. Dana's." 
 
 " For what purpose ?" 
 
 " I have something to tell Charley." 
 
 "I will be the bearer of your message. Let me see you home; 
 you shall give it to me on the way." 
 
 She obeyed submissively as a child. 
 
 " Now !" said he, as they turned back. 
 
 " I had a note from Lynn to-night. It is worded so ambi- 
 guously, contains so many allusions I do not understand, that 
 I can glean but this he has quarrelled, and been challenged ; 
 they fight to-morrow, where or when I do not know, nor the 
 name of his opponent. It is all a horrible mystery." 
 
 It was more clear to him. He related the incident of the 
 altercation at supper, suppressing Pemberton's use of her name. 
 
 " Oh ! can it be ! he will not stoop so low ! And he will die I
 
 184 ALONE. 
 
 he declares his solemn determination not to resist the attack. 
 His life is thrown away !" 
 
 " Not if man can prevent it I promise you this much. "When 
 did you get this letter ?" 
 
 " Not an hour since." 
 
 " Why did you not send to Charley or me ?" 
 
 " Mr. Read is away, and John sick." 
 
 " What is the tone of the note ? revengeful ?" 
 
 " Oh, no ! he says expressly ' If I know my own heart, I 
 wish him no evil.' He writes, weary of life, and relieved at the 
 thought of getting rid of it." 
 
 " < Getting rid' of the life God has bestowed I" repeated he, 
 indignantly. " Forgive me, Ida ! yet you cannot tolerate this 
 sentiment ! Does he believe in an hereafter ? Does he allude 
 to it?" 
 
 " No but he does believe I have thought, sometimes, with 
 more than the intellect. Do not judge him hardly; he has 
 Buffered much of late ; more from morbid sensibility than actual 
 troubles, but he imagined his woes too heavy to be borne. He 
 is not fit to cope with sorrow." 
 
 " None of us are, 'till we have been taught the uses of afflic- 
 tion. This recklessness is, you think, more an impulse than a 
 purpose ?" 
 
 " I am sure of it." 
 
 " He will be more manageable then," he replied encouragingly. 
 
 The wind blew roughly, and he folded her cloak around her. 
 
 " I recognised you by this, and your walk, and fearing lest 
 you might encounter rudeness in your nocturnal ramble, kept 
 you in sight. I heard your voice at the watchman's challenge, 
 and concluded to declare myself your protector. I have been 
 sitting with a sick friend." 
 
 Ida did not know herself when they stopped at the door her 
 uneasiness all gone, and with it the unnatural strength that 
 impelled her venturesome step he had assumed the burden ; 
 and he was so strong and sanguine, it did not oppress him. 
 With the mild authority which had checked her tears and 
 reversed her design, he bade her "dismiss anxiety, and rest 
 quietly until morning, when he would send her glad tidings." 
 And with the same child-like docility she repaired to her chamber, 
 and betook herself to slumber.
 
 ALONE. 185 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 IN the bosom of the forest, the tall oaks girdling it, like a 
 band of mailed warriors, changed by the spell of beauty from 
 assailants to a guard, lay a little glade, free from brush or sapling; 
 its tender green carpet freshening in the March sun. The trees 
 loved the dance of the shadows over that sylvan ball-room, and 
 they revelled there all the day, and at evening, slept upon the 
 turf in the moonlight. The clouds of the night had rolled away 
 before a westerly breeze, and the forest was full of sweet and 
 pleasant sounds. The oriole had come in advance of the season 
 to look for his last year's nest ; the woodpecker thrummed upon 
 a hollow trunk ; and the robins, too busy for more than an occa- 
 sional note, flew about with sticks and mud in their bills. The 
 teeming earth was quick with vitality ; you could hear the un- 
 furling of the grass-blades, the rustle of the leaf-buds as they 
 broke ground. 
 
 An inharmonious sound interrupted the concert the rattle 
 of a carriage. It stopped; then another drove up; and six gen- 
 tlemen, three from either side, entered the glade, saluting each 
 other as they advanced. Lynn's friends were Mr. Thornton and 
 Mr. Villet; Pemberton's Talbot and another of " the set," by the 
 name of Watson. Without wasting time in irrelevant chat, the 
 seconds walked apart for consultation. Peraberton, with a bragga- 
 docio air, offered his cigar-case to his companion ; and nothing 
 abashed by his dignified gesture of refusal, planted himself 
 against a tree, and began to smoke. Lynn paced the little area 
 in silence. He was haggard to ghastliness ; the effect of a night 
 of sleeplessness and racking thought. He was brave; his nerves 
 did not tremble in the hour of peril ; but the soul, forced, before 
 its time, upon the verge of an unknown sea, shook with a name- 
 less dread of the punishment of its temerity. Early teachings, 
 and the convictions of later years weighed upon him. A tiny 
 wild flower blossomed by his foot he plucked it, and pressed 
 its petals open with his finger. Whose hand had fashioned it ? 
 Whose sun kissed it into bloom ? W T hose goodness granted it 
 16*
 
 186 ALONE. 
 
 this lovely home ? It owed its little life to the Father, from 
 whom he had derived his poet-soul ; it had fulfilled the end ol 
 its creation ; he was about to hurl his gifts, a million times 
 more precious, into the face of the Giver. He would gladly 
 have courted other thoughts, but these would come ; and long- 
 forgotten texts floated before him ; apparently without a cause 
 to call them forth. One met him, wherever he looked " Des- 
 pisest thou the riches of his forbearance, and love and long- 
 suffering?' 5 And as he repeated, "despisest thou" another 
 " Behold, ye despisers, and wonder and perish!" These words 
 were upon his tongue, as Mr. Villet put the pistol into his hand, 
 and motioned him into his place. 
 
 Pemberton had sent the challenge, with no thought of its 
 being accepted, counting upon the interference of Lynn's friends. 
 Mr. Thornton had waited upon him with his principal's answer, 
 settling time, place and weapons; driving him into a corner, 
 from whence he could only escape by following out his own 
 proposition. A strained sense of honour was Lynn's birth- 
 right. His father had died upon the field ; and repudiation of 
 the duellist's code involved censure of him. Thus they stoodj 
 face to face, upon this unclouded, fragrant spring morning, to 
 wash out in blood the memory of a trifle which would have 
 perished of itself in this time, but for the pains they had taken 
 to perpetuate it. Oh, Virginia ! most fondly loved of mothers ! 
 how often has thy soil drank the blood of sons, the tears of 
 daughters, whose lives and weal have been sacrificed to this 
 pitiless Moloch ! 
 
 Mr. Talbot explained that the signal was to be the dropping 
 of a handkerchief, after he should have counted three slowly. 
 Mr. Villet held the handkerchief " One two " said Tal- 
 bot, deliberately. Lynn had only time to see the murder in his 
 antagonist's eye, when a report rang through the forest, and 
 he felt a sharp pain in his breast and arm. 
 
 " Treachery !" shouted Thornton, excitedly. " Shoot him 
 down, Holmes ! he deserves a dog's death!" 
 
 Lynn's hot blood was up he raised his arm. The loaded and 
 discharged pistols were whirling in the air and Charley Dana 
 and Morton Lacy threw themselves between the combatants. 
 
 " At whose instance was this meeting brought about, gentle- 
 men ?" questioned the former, peremptorily, scanning the group.
 
 ALONE. 187 
 
 " The challenge came from my principal/' answered Watson, 
 with a brazen look. 
 
 " Will you honour me by a minute's private conversation, 
 sir?" asked Charley, facing Pemberton, with a sneer seen by 
 him alone. " You need not be afraid," he pursued, not receiving 
 an immediate reply, " I do not carry concealed weapons." 
 
 Pemberton went aside with him very reluctantly. He 
 respected, because he feared Charley. Without a correct under- 
 standing of his character, he stood in awe of the keen ridicule 
 and calm courage, for which his blustering was no match. 
 
 " You must be at a loss for something to do, that you covet 
 such business as this;" began Charley. "I have no objection 
 to your blowing your brains out and any coroner in the country 
 would decide that an inquest would be 'much-ado about nothing;' 
 but it is another matter when you try, in cold blood, to take the 
 life of one, who has some pretensions to the name of man. You 
 are a cowardly poltroon 1 If you are on the look-out for insults, 
 there is one, if truth can insult. Two policemen are at a little 
 distance. The law will have a more serious job than I antici- 
 pated. There are five witnesses to the fact, that you fired in 
 advance of the time. Join this to your provocation of the other 
 night, and your having sent the challenge; and it will not 
 require a Philadelphia lawyer to make out a case, which will 
 put a stop to your murderous propensities for awhile. Now, sir, 
 what do you propose to do?" 
 
 The bully shook visibly. "Keally, Mr. Dana, this is an 
 extraordinary procedure. You and I have no quarrel." 
 
 " I beg your pardon m-en of honour do not pass over such 
 remarks as I have indulged in. You did not hear me, perhaps ; 
 I said, and say now, you are a pitiful poltroon ! shaking in your 
 shoes, this minute, at the prospect of the penitentiary, and the 
 loss of your soap-locks. But before I give you into the keeping 
 of your lawful guardians, I have a proposal to make on my own 
 account. I came here with the intention of giving you a casti- 
 gation for your impertinent mention of a lady. I will not fight 
 a duel with you, but if you resist, I will take care you do not 
 shoot me. I meant to horse-whip you, and I will within an 
 inch of your life, if you do not make an ample apology. You 
 cannot bully or blarney me, Pemberton. We know each other."
 
 188 ALONE. 
 
 In abject terms, he declared that he had the highest venera- 
 tion for Mr. Dana's friend, Miss Ross ; he was in wine at the 
 time spoken of, and was unaware, until told of it, that he had 
 mentioned her 
 
 "That will do!" interposed Charley. "Are you ready to 
 rejoin your friends?" 
 
 11 You will not do me this great injury, Mr. Dana ! think of 
 the exposure the disgrace ! A duel is an honourable affair, if 
 carried out; but when it takes a turn like this, you will admit 
 it looks confoundedly mean." 
 
 Charley could not but smile at his ludicrously pathetic tone. 
 
 " Will you bind yourself to behave better to your superiors 
 Mr. Holmes included if I help you out of the scrape ?" 
 
 The pledge was eagerly given. 
 
 " Your best plan will be to state to the company that, in con- 
 sequence of explanations made by me, you retract the challenge, 
 and likewise the offensive remark that provoked Mr, Holmes to 
 assault you. Offer your hand to him, with the best grace you 
 can muster ; jump into your carriage and you shall not be 
 pursued." 
 
 The seconds were huddled together, talking of the novel phase 
 of the affair ; Lynn and Morton walking to and fro ; the latter 
 speaking earnestly, while Lynn's averted face showed he was not 
 unmoved. Pemberton obeyed instructions to the letter; and 
 with a trepidation and hurry which nearly betrayed Charley into 
 a disgrace of the dignity of the occasion. After a gra^p at 
 Lynn's hand, he bowed hastily, summoned his attendants, and 
 disappeared among the trees. The crack of the driver's whip 
 proclaimed his departure. Thornton and Villet were profuse 
 in their inquiries, but they were little wiser for Charley's replies. 
 An exclamation from Morton interrupted them. 
 
 " You are wounded !" said he, pointing to Lynn's arm, from 
 which the blood was oozing. 
 
 " Only a scratch," replied he. 
 
 Charley ripped up his sleeve ; uncovering a flesh wound of 
 no great depth. The ball had passed between his side and arm. 
 grazing both ; its aim was the heart. 
 
 " If I had seen this sooner !" said Charley, involuntarily. 
 
 What if you had ?" inquired Lynn.
 
 ALONE. 189 
 
 He made no reply, but proceeded to bind up the wound. 
 " Gentlemen !" said he, when he had done ; " your carriage 
 and breakfast are waiting. I take it, you have nothing more 
 on hand this morning." 
 
 Thornton and Yillet bowed, half-offended ; Lynn lingered. 
 " How are you going back ?" he asked of Morton, but looking 
 at Charley. 
 
 Our horses are not far off," answered the former, kindly. 
 " We will see you again in an hour or two." 
 
 " Coming!" responded Lynn, to his friends' impatient call. 
 He looked again to Charley's grave face, beseechingly and 
 timidly ; but could not summon courage to break the silence. 
 
 " Do not punish him too severely, Charley/' said Morton. 
 He turned from him without speaking. He had never seen him 
 so affected before. They were alone in the glade ; and the 
 birds, silenced for a time by human voices, were heard again 
 twittering in the boughs. Charley spoke at length. 
 
 " I have been deceived, Lacy. I thought I knew men, and 
 was prepared for any inconsistency j but if I had been told that 
 the man, cherished for years as a brother, would mislead me 
 purposely in a matter of vital importance to us both, I would not 
 have credited it. I had his promise, or what amounted to a 
 promise, that he would not stir without consulting me. What 
 weakness !" he continued, more agitated, " to abandon fame and 
 friends and life, because of a fancied slight from a woman !" 
 
 " Yet are we guiltless of similar failings ?" said Morton, 
 impressively. " Have there not been times when we too were 
 impatient despairing for no more weighty cause? My dear 
 Charley, let us judge leniently errors into which we might have 
 fallen, but for greater strength or less powerful temptation. 
 Disapproval and forgiveness are not incompatible." 
 
 " You have witnessed the one will you be the bearer of the 
 other?" asked Charley, trying to smile. " I will not oblige him 
 to ask it. He has had humiliation enough for one day." 
 
 Mr. Lacy's first care, upon their return to the city, was to 
 dispatch a note to Ida. It merely announced the success of their 
 expedition ; the means adopted to secure it, she gathered from 
 Charley. They had gone together, first to Lynn's then to 
 Pemberton's lodgings, when Charley had been informed of the
 
 190 ALONE. 
 
 projected meeting. They were reported " not at home." They 
 then hit upon the unpromising expedient of going to every hack- 
 stand in the city, to ascertain, if possible, at what time the party 
 was to start in the morning, and its route. They failed, in two 
 or three cases to arouse the keepers ; and from others received 
 unimportant and surly replies. Charley had just asked, "Do 
 you mean to give it up ?" and been answered by a firm " Never !" 
 when a negro bustled by them. Morton seized him by the 
 shoulder, and led him to an apothecary's lamp. 
 
 "I thought so!" 
 
 " I've got a pass. Let me go !" said the fellow, struggling. 
 
 "Not until I know where you have been. You are Mr. 
 Talbot's servant you may gain something, and shall not lose, 
 by answering me civilly. What were you sent for ?" 
 
 By smooth and harsh words, he was brought to acknowledge 
 that his " young master" having had company all the evening, 
 had forgotten, until late, to send him to a livery-stable to engage 
 a carriage for five o'clock next morning. 
 
 " Who is with him, besides Mr. Pemberton ?" inquired 
 Mr. Lacy. 
 
 Mr. Watson, sir." 
 
 " How far are they to go, after crossing the river ?" 
 
 " Lor ! Massa ! how you reckon I know ?" 
 
 No trifling, sir ! If I wanted to create mischief, you have 
 said enough. Tell me everything, or I will go at once to your 
 master !" 
 
 The man instantly named their destination, which his master 
 had let slip in his hearing ; and added that they were " fixing 
 pistols." The information was corroborated by a call upon the 
 liveryman, and they acted upon it. The delay, which was so 
 near being fatal, arose from their ignorance of a newer and 
 shorter road than they chose. 
 
 " How Lacy guessed their intentions, I cannot imagine," said 
 Charley. " He would not entrust to me the name of his infor- 
 mant; and Lynn is as much in the dark. He brought your 
 letter to the door after he was sure you had retired and mine 
 was left upon his desk. But Lacy is discreet from principle, 
 not from caprice." 
 
 " He is," said Ida with heightened color. " If any stigma 
 attaches to the informer, it must rest upon me "
 
 ALONE. 191 
 
 " Just like him, noble-hearted and faithful !" exclaimed 
 Charley, when her story was ended. Shall you tell Lynn ?" 
 
 " Yes if only to show him how his friends love him. He 
 may view it as a breach of confidence, but I had rather he should 
 reproach me, than suspect the innocent." 
 
 Whether he reproached her or not, the revelation did not 
 diminish his regard for her. Except at their first agitating 
 interview, he never adverted to the unfinished duel; but he 
 seemed drawn to her by a new tie, in the recollection of her 
 readiness to adventure so much in his behalf. Ellen Morris had 
 left town for a visit to Petersburg, the day after the rupture : 
 left without a message or line of penitence or conciliation. Lynn 
 did not complain, but his moodiness subsided into a pensivenes,s, 
 illumined by the flashes of his former animation, like the sparkle 
 of smouldering embers. 
 
 It was during one of these gleams that he spent the evening 
 at the rendezvous of what Josephine styled the " Dana clique." 
 John Dana and his amiable wife were great favorites of his and 
 Mr. Lacy's. Their friendly calls may have been more frequent 
 because it was Ida's chief visiting place. Mr. Dana was in New 
 York, and she had dined and taken tea with her friend. 
 
 Lynn came in with Charley, and the latter, excusing himself 
 for an hour after supper, left Ida and the young artist together. 
 
 " I have been thinking lately, how sublime a thing is phi- 
 lanthropy," said Lynn, throwing himself with boyish abandon, 
 upon the rug at her feet. "I welcome this train of thought 
 as a sign, that I am growing less selfish, for I have been 
 sadly, sinfully selfish, Ida madly intent upon my schemes, 
 ruy happiness forgetting that God placed me in the world 
 to benefit others. Lacy was in my studio to-day, and we had 
 a talk upon this subject. He says there is always a reflex tide 
 of the happiness we send forth to those around us; a purer, 
 truer joy than self-gratification. <In this respect/ he observed, 
 1 we can best imitate the example of our Supreme Benefactor.' 
 Imitate our Creator, Ida ! that is something worth living for." 
 
 " You have much besides, to make life precious, Lynn. I 
 remember when it seemed worthless to me ; when I thought I 
 had tasted all the sweetness it possessed I have changed my 
 opinion since."
 
 192 ALONE. 
 
 Ah ! but you have never bowed soul and spirit to an idol, 
 and ' found it clay ;' never realised ia the dread hour that saw 
 its demolition, that the fairest growth of heart and mind the 
 plants which you flattered yourself were climbing heavenward, 
 had only twined themselves with strengthening tendrils about 
 the altar of that one love ! I know the meaning of the expres- 
 sion, < broken cisterns, which can hold no water/ I have felt 
 for some time past as if my heart were a stagnant marsh, flooded 
 by wasted affections To-day I have been happier, more hopeful. 
 I will begin life anew, and strive for my art and for my kind." 
 
 " I have often told you that you have rare qualifications for 
 usefulness," rejoined Ida. " Your besetting fault is unsteadi- 
 ness of purpose; the best resolutions avail nothing if they are not 
 adhered to." 
 
 " I know it. I dare not say now, that I will keep my present 
 frame of mind until to-morrow ; but I do feel as if a broad field 
 were spread before me, and a bright, bright heaven over-arched 
 it. I can think and speak of Ellen ; I comfort myself by ima- 
 gining that our separation is for our mutual good our charac- 
 ters required discipline, and dimly in the future I see visions of 
 reconciliation and re-union." Poor boy ! the idol was not gone 
 yet ! He sat in an attitude of careless grace, his hand support- 
 ing his cheek, and the light falling upon his upturned face. 
 " Yes," he continued, thoughtfully. " I am convinced that my 
 life has been spared for some important end, and I will work it 
 out, whenever Providence designates the ways and means of its 
 accomplishment. I do not overlaud my ability; for youth, and 
 health, and energy, are almost omnipotent, and I am young, and 
 strong, and willing." 
 
 " You will not be offended if I aid you in the work ?" asked 
 Ida. 
 
 " No ; and I anticipate your warning. You would say that 
 Belf-conquest lies at the base of all other victories. Ah ! you will 
 yet be ashamed of your incredulity as to my regeneration. That 
 is Charley's voice, he has brought Lacy, too ! I am glad !" 
 
 Ida was more than glad. She had seen him since their mid- 
 night walk, but Josephine's presence bad debarred her from 
 even a look of acknowledgment. 
 
 Mrs. Dana came down stairs, and completed the fireside 
 group.
 
 ALONE. 193 
 
 " What have you two been prosing about ?" asked Charley, 
 presently. 
 
 I have been talking Miss Ida listening," said Lynn. 
 She has no faith in my determination to play < good boy/ and 
 as she knows me better than I do myself, I am uneasy for the 
 durability of my excellent resolve. Do say something encour- 
 aging, Lacy." 
 
 " What is this reformation ? of mind or manner ?" inquired 
 Morton. 
 
 " Mind, manner, heart and will. I have been a wilful trou- 
 blesome child all my life ; I mean, from this time forward, to be 
 a man." 
 
 " And how are you setting about it ?" 
 
 " Oh ! I am theorising now. I have no distinct object, except 
 to do the best I can ; to mortify evil passions, to uproot selfish 
 desires, to foster the germs of good in myself and others." 
 
 Mr. Lacy smiled, a little sadly. " You have undertaken a 
 Sisyphus task, if you heave the stone up the hill in your own 
 strength." 
 
 Lynn looked dismayed. " Yet it is our duty to do all this. 
 The Scriptures, for whose infallibility you contend, set a higher 
 standard of faith and practice than I have done." 
 
 " But they tell us in so many words, < Ye can of yourselves 
 do nothing.' Who can say, < I have made my heart clean 1 
 am pure from my sin ?' " 
 
 " You do not agree with the fanatics who denounce morality, 
 I hope," said Charley. " I heard one hold forth last Sabbath. 
 He told us 'our righteousness was as filthy rags.' I had read my 
 Bible, and knew that; but he heated Gehenna seven times 
 hotter for 'ye miserable moralists' than for the vilest outcast 
 that ever dishonored the image in which he was made. I make 
 no pretensions to piety, but I endeavour to do my duty to my 
 fellow-men ; to hate none, and help all. I go to church because 
 [ think it right, if only for the example I set to others 5 I don't 
 expect my good works to be a passport to heaven ; but I thought, 
 as I listened to him, that his orthodoxy and zeal, without charity, 
 would profit him nothing." 
 
 " You were probably nearer right than he j" said Mr. Lacy. 
 ' I do not decry morality. Reason teaches us that the benevo- 
 17
 
 194 ALONE. 
 
 lent citizen, the honest tradesman, the kind parent and husband, 
 find more favour in the eyes of a righteous judge than the rioter, 
 the cheat, the debauchee and tyrant. Much injury is done to 
 religion by the mistaken zeal of its advocates. This was not the 
 spirit of its Founder. To me, the history of the young ruler, 
 who came to Christ, is one of the most affecting in the New Tes- 
 tament. He was not driven away by disheartening rebukes; 
 but 'Jesus, looking on him, loved him/ How tenderly must he 
 -have uttered 'But one thing thou lackest !' " 
 
 " But how unnatural is the finale !" said Lynn. " ' And he 
 went away sorrowful, for he had great possessions. 7 He let his 
 lucre outweigh his soul !" 
 
 "Take care how you condemn!" said Charley. "There 
 are ( possessions' besides silver and gold, which clog a man's 
 steps. Love of pleasure has ruined more souls than love of 
 gain." 
 
 "And procrastination more than both together;" added Mor- 
 ton. 
 
 Ida looked at Charley. Do you remember our conversation 
 after the protracted meeting, last summer?" asked she. " I felt, 
 when you spoke of Death and Eternity, that I could never close 
 my eyes again in peace ; but the impression wore off; and we 
 are here, to-night, it may be, no better prepared for our inevi- 
 table change than we were then." 
 
 "Yet we are content to hunt for the motives of this inconsis- 
 tency of belief and action, instead of rectifying it !" said Mr. 
 Lacy, seriously. 
 
 " You predestinarians may excuse us upon the ground that wo 
 are waiting the ' set time ;' " remarked Charley. 
 
 " God's time is < now ;' " answered his friend. " < To-mor- 
 row' comes with a note of warning ' Boast not thyself of to- 
 morrow;' e To-day is to-morrow is cast into the oven/ " 
 
 " You have battered my scaffolding, and not provided me with 
 another ;" cried Lynn. " You say I am helpless, yet cry, ' the 
 night cometh !' " 
 
 Mr. Lacy took a Bible from the table, and handing it to Ida, 
 requested her to read aloud the passages he pointed out. 
 
 " ' Then said they unto him ; "What shall we do that we 
 might work the works of God ? Jesus answered, and said unto
 
 ALONE. 195 
 
 them : this is the work of God that ye believe on him whom he 
 hath sent ;' and < Knowing that a man is not justified by the 
 works of the law, but by the faith of Jesus Christ, even we have 
 believed in Jesus Christ, that we might be justified by the faith 
 of Christ, and not by the works of the law/ " 
 
 " Thank you," said Lynn. " Then I am to do nothing T' 
 
 " Nothing as yet, but believe and trust. Having enlisted in 
 the service, you will not be left idle. But I am overstaying my 
 time ; I engaged to meet a friend at half-past nine, and it is 
 nearly ten. I had rather stay here, but good night, never- 
 theless." 
 
 " And I have not thanked him !" thought Ida, disappointed 
 but 
 
 "Miss Ida !" called Charley, from the porch. " Come, see 
 this cloud !" 
 
 A pile of snow-clouds was heaving up towards the moon, 
 which fringed their jagged outlines with silver, unearthly bright 
 from the blackness below. 
 
 " You would say, { gloomily beautiful ;' " said Mr. Lacy. 
 
 He was close beside her, and approachable as ever; and Char- 
 ley held Mrs. Dana and Lynn in conversation. In one sentence, 
 she expressed her sense of obligation, and her regret that he had 
 had so much trouble in executing her commission. His face was 
 in the shade, but she felt his look. 
 
 " Nothing is a trouble to me, that promotes your happiness." 
 
 She went back to the parlor, with a tumultuous joy at heart. 
 The full significance of his words she did not understand till long 
 afterwards. 
 
 " Mr. Lacy should study for the ministry ;" said Mrs. Dana. 
 
 "He does more good as he is;" replied Charley, stoutly. "If 
 all Christians performed their duty as well, you and I would live 
 to see the Millennium. He can reach meiv, who would fly at 
 the glimpse of a white cravat. There is some charm about the 
 man ; his religion is a part of himself; and he carries it every- 
 where he goes. I have seen the wildest fellows I know, cluster 
 around him, and introduce the subject, for the pleasure of hear- 
 ing him talk. He knows when to begin, and when to leave off. 
 He says plain things to me ; I might knock down another man 
 who took the liberty ; I thank him, and am sincere in so doing."
 
 196 ALONE. 
 
 " I love to listen to him ; but he makes me very uncomfort- 
 able ;" said Mrs. Dana. 
 
 "It is so with me;" responded Lynn. "Our conferences 
 always leave me out of humour with myself, and envious of 
 him." 
 
 I think the secret of his influence lies in his humility and 
 charity ;" remarked Ida ; " in his not holding himself so far 
 above us < deluded worldlings/ as certain of his brethren. He 
 believes there is good in all ; not that he is all-good." 
 
 " These all -good people are too apt to slam the door of Hea- 
 ven, as soon as they are on the safe side, themselves;" answered 
 Charley. " Lacy would be willing to see the whole human race 
 saved." 
 
 " Who would not ?" laughed Ida. 
 
 " < "Who would not !' why, I honestly thought, before I knew 
 him, that many professors of religion, those of his denomina- 
 tion, especially would be sorely chagrined at an event so oppo- 
 site to their calculations." 
 
 " I wish I were as certainly ' predestinated' as he is ;" said 
 Lynn, with a smile and a sigh. 
 
 "I cannot quite subscribe to your 'election' principles; but 
 if I were altogether such an one as he seems to be, I should con- 
 sider my chance pretty safe;" returned Charley. 
 
 " You are not going, Ida !" remonstrated Mrs. Dana. Stay 
 all night with me." 
 
 I cannot. We shall have a snow storm to-morrow, and I 
 might be detained several days." 
 
 " No great harm if you are !" said Charley." 
 
 " Not if I have duties which call me home ? I will come 
 again shortly, but I must go now." 
 
 Charley, as host pro tempore, got his hat ; and Lynn followed 
 them into the street, with, " I hope I don't intrude !" The tem- 
 pest was near at hand; the gust that buffeted them at the cor- 
 ners made them stagger. Lynn forced Ida to take his arm also, 
 and in this style they breasted the storm, gaily. Ida looked out 
 after them, before she closed the door. They hurried along, 
 arm in arm, their merry voices borne back to her by the wind, 
 after the darkness swallowed up their forms. 
 
 The snow fell steadilj all the next day, and the next.
 
 ALONE. 197 
 
 Josephine was " blue ;" her name for ill-humor bad 
 weather always made her blue ," Mr. Read had a twinge of the 
 rheumatism, and was amiable accordingly. Ida wrote a long 
 letter to Carry; read Charley's last budget of books; and 
 watched the snow-flakes; enjoying the perfect quiet, and free- 
 dom from interruption. Upon each evening, she sat by her 
 window, until she could not distinguish the boundary between 
 the leaden sky and the white earth ; and the snow, she had been 
 brushing off all day, banked up against the glass. fe Heigho ! 
 we dreamers have some pleasures more sensible people know 
 nothing about;" said she, as the tea-bell sounded the second 
 night. " It will seem so dark and dreary below after the society 
 that has cheered my sanctum I" 
 
 The ice was breaking up below, in a hail-storm, which had all 
 the sharpness of a conjugal " difference," without the stinging 
 politeness genteel people throw into their wrangles. Ida listened 
 and sickened and sighed. A pealing ring checked the dispu- 
 tants. Ida's heart fluttered, and Josephine looked up anxiously 
 at the footman's entrance. 
 
 " Mr. Dana, to see Miss Ross." 
 
 "Of course then, I shall not go out;" said Josephine, 
 haughtily. 
 
 Ida ran into the drawing-room. Oh ! I am so glad to see 
 you !" but his look stopped her short. You have bad news ! 
 Carry !" she articulated, sinking into a chair. 
 
 " No : Carry and Jenny are well ; but I am come for you. 
 Our poor friend Lynn, is very ill." 
 
 " 111 !" said she, incredulously. 
 
 His lips quivered. " VERY ill !" 
 
 " Lynn ! brother !" A mist fell over her sight then cleared, 
 as one long choking sob relieved her burdened breast. Charley 
 raised her. 
 
 " There is no time to lose." 
 
 I am ready." 
 
 Mr. Read and Josephine came into the hall at the bustle. 
 
 Miss Ross ! may I presume to ask whither you are going, 
 such a night ?" 
 
 " To see a sick friend, sir !" returned Charley, as dictatorially. 
 
 <l Whom sir, and where ?" 
 
 17*
 
 198 ALONE. 
 
 " My friend, and she is under my protection /' said he, impa- 
 tient at the detention. A carriage was waiting. Ida asked one 
 question " When was he attacked ?" 
 
 " Within three hours after we parted from you. He stayed 
 with me at John's that night ; complained before retiring, of 
 thirst and chilliness; and awoke with a raging fever. The 
 doctors pronounce the disease inflammation of the lungs, of the 
 most virulent nature. He had a lucid interval this evening, and 
 asked for you." 
 
 She did not say, " Is there hope ?" She knew there was 1 
 none. 
 
 Charley exchanged a word with the servant who opened the 
 door, and led the way directly to the sick-chamber. Mrs. Dana 
 met her with a tearful embrace ; she saw no one else, but the 
 figure upon the bed. But for the dark circles about the eyes 
 and mouth, the unmistakeable signet of Death, he might have 
 seemed in perfect health. He appeared to be asleep, until she 
 stood at his pillow ; then opened his eyes upon her horror-stricken 
 face, and made an effort to smile. 
 
 Ida !" 
 
 " Dear Lynn 1" 
 
 His breath was short " I am almost gone. Give my fare- 
 well, to Ellen, I forgave and loved her to the last. Bury her 
 miniature with me. I have done with earth." 
 
 He closed his eyes. They brought a cordial. His wistful 
 glance ran around the room, and returned to her. 
 
 " What is it, dear Lynn ?" 
 
 Oh! the mournful intensity of that look! and the clammy 
 fingers clasped hers. " / did not think I should die so soon ! Is 
 Lacy here ?" 
 
 He came forward at her sign. 
 
 " I am dying I have not time to search for myself see if 
 there is any promise for me !" 
 
 " i Him that cometh unto me, I will in no wise cast out ;' " 
 repeated Mr. Lacy, instantly. " < He is able also, to save unto 
 the uttermost all them, who come unto God by Him, seeing 
 He ever liveth to make intercession for them.' " 
 
 The fading eyes were re-lit with eagerness. 
 
 " Is that there ? did He say so, or did you ?"
 
 ALONE 199 
 
 " He said it, who declares, moreover, that He is not willing 
 for < any to perish but that all should turn and live.' " 
 
 His dying gaze was upward, and his lips moved in prayer. 
 
 To the uttermost the uttermost I" he whispered. 'Lord ! 
 remember me, when Thou comest into Thy ' " 
 
 He sank into a stupor ; and the physician administered another 
 stimulant. He had besought them not to permit him to sleep 
 while reason lasted. One and another had come in, on hearing 
 of his danger, and the room was nearly filled ; but there was not a 
 word or loud breath, to distract the meditations of the parting soul. 
 
 Charley and Mrs. Dana were nearest him on one side, Ida and 
 Mr. Lacy, on the other. He looked at them fondly. 
 
 " Friends ! dear friends ! < There is a friend ' " to Lacy. 
 
 He finished the sentence " That sticketh closer than a 
 brother." 
 
 " Yes : I remember who is able to save to the utter 
 most " his voice died away. When next his eyes moved, i* 
 was slowly and painfully ; but their restless light was not extinct 
 The stiffening mouth contracted. 
 
 " He says ( Pray !' " said Ida to Morton. 
 
 Every head was bowed; and the opening sentence of tho 
 prayer brought a deeper quiet to every heart. 
 
 " ' Lord ! Thou hast been our dwelling-place in all genera- 
 tions !' " 
 
 The language was simple, scriptural and fervent, the plead- 
 ing of a son, in behalf of a brother, with an indulgent Parent. 
 As he repeated the text, Lynn had dwelt upon, Ida felt the feeble 
 pressure of his hand ; he was alive and conscious then. The 
 rest arose at the " Amen." She had not knelt; but she did not 
 raise her head from the pillow; her soul had caught the fare- 
 well of his, as it flew away upon its long journey ! There was a 
 movement through the room a breathless pause a solemn 
 voice said " He is gone !" and tears and sobbings broke forth. 
 
 His hand still held hers ; and the other was folded over 
 them in supplication ; the eyes still looked heavenward but 
 they were fixed. 
 
 Dead ! dead ! in his glorious beauty in the flush of youth ! 
 deaf to the recall of mourning hearts and the awakening 
 echoes of the fame his genius had won ! If he could die, who 
 was sure of an hour of life.
 
 200 ALONE 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 ELLEN MORRIS accepted an invitation to Petersburg, ere the 
 angry pique, aroused by Lynn's reproaches, passed off. The 
 promise was hardly given, when she would have revoked it, had 
 not pride held her to her word. Her friends were solicitous, 
 that the far-famed hospitality of their city should not seem to 
 the Richmond beauty, to have been vaunted too highly ; and she 
 appreciated their efforts ; but the fortnight she had named as the 
 period of her stay, crept slowly by. She hoped confidently to 
 see her lover again at her feet, when the heat of passion was over ; 
 yet she was wretched in the recollection of her trifling, and the 
 misery it had inflicted upon his high-toned spirit. Twice she 
 prepared to write to him, and end a suspense torturing to both, 
 and twice dashed down the pen in shame and pride. The 
 wished-for hour of departure arrived. The morning was bleak; 
 the snow had ceased falling, but the clouds were low and threat- 
 ening. Her entertainers begged her to wait but a day longer. 
 
 " If it were a matter of life and death, you could not be more 
 obstinate/' said her hostess, fretted at her unreasonableness. 
 
 "And how do you know that it is not?" answered she, 
 jestingly. 
 
 "It is no joking matter, Miss Ellen," said a young man, 
 gravely. " They have not cleared the snow from the track as it 
 ought to be done. You would feel badly to have your neck 
 broken." 
 
 "That is a trifle compared with a broken heart;" and she 
 laughed lightly. 
 
 The train started, and the shivering passengers resigned them- 
 selves to a comfortless ride. Ellen's escort, an elderly gentleman, 
 lost no time in settling his chin and ears down in the collar of 
 his great coat, and the rest of his body in a corner, to sleep. 
 She was wide-awake ; and her spirits, raised by the near prospect 
 of the meeting, her hopes had fed upon, for weary days and 
 nights, found amusement in the uncouth figures, seen by the 
 struggling light. She did not suffer from the cold or damp; her
 
 ALONE. 201 
 
 pulses bounded warmly; and when tired of being a solitary 
 looker-on, she closed her eyes, and beguiled the time by fancies 
 of home and him; whether he too were repentant; if he did not 
 show it, rather than lose him, she could humble herself to lure 
 him back ; she could not be happy without the assurance of 
 his love. She would tell him how miserable their parting had 
 made her; and imagination revelled in the anticipation of the 
 refreshing flood, her thirsting heart would receive in return. 
 There were pictures of days, which should fleet by like a dream ; 
 when doubts and fears should be lost in perfect beatitude; 
 the dingy, smoky cars were metamorphosed into their cottage 
 home, with its music and flowers and birds, and its atmosphere 
 of love ; and the votaries of his divine art thronged to offer 
 incense to him her peerless one ! 
 
 The halting of the laboring engine startled her. The drowsy 
 travellers gathered themselves up; and elbowing and grumbling, 
 rushed out. She lifted the window. They were at the Depot. 
 Half-frozen officials stamped their toes and blew their fingers ; 
 hackmen swore at their horses and the porters ; now and then, 
 a pair of watery eyes peered into the cars, in quest of some 
 expected one; but the form she looked for was not there. 
 " Pshaw ! how could he know when she was coming ? how silly 
 not to recollect this !" 
 
 " There is no cne here to meet you, Miss Ellen," said her 
 companion, re-entering. 
 
 " I hardly expected it, sir; if you will be so kind as to get a 
 carriage for me, I will not trouble you further." 
 
 Her smile thawed the old man's churlishness. He volun- 
 teered, his foot upon the step " to see her all the way home ;" 
 but she would not consent. 
 
 " I am not afraid ; this kind ' uncle' will carry me safely." 
 
 The driver scraped and grinned, although his woolly whiskers 
 were hoary with rime. "Pity all women can't be agreeable!" 
 said the escort, trudging through the drifts, to his hack. That 
 a gentleman of his temperament was ever otherwise, even on a 
 raw morning, did not occur to him. 
 
 An omnibus blocked up the street ; Ellen's carriage was 
 behind it, and the driver's objurgative eloquence retarded, 
 instead of quickening the movements of its proprietor, who wac 
 stowing away baggage upon the roof.
 
 202 ALONE. 
 
 " Hallo I" cried a young man, to another, who was knocking 
 the snow from his boots against the curb-stone. " When did 
 you get in?" 
 
 "Just now. Horrid weather for March! isn't it? Any 
 news going ?" 
 
 " Not a bit all frozen up ah ! yes ! Lynn Holmes is dead." 
 
 " What ! not the artist ! when did it happen? I saw him on 
 the street a week ago another duel ?" 
 
 "No lung fever. He died night before last, after forty- 
 eight hours' illness." 
 
 " Shocking !" 
 
 "Ellen ! you are white as a sheet !" was Mrs. Morris' greeting. 
 " My dear child are you sick ?" 
 
 " No ma'am only cold oh ! so cold I" 
 
 " Come to the fire." 
 
 " I think I will lie down awhile I am chilled to the heart !" 
 
 The servant, who carried her breakfast, reported her asleep, 
 and the careful mother would not let them waken her. Later 
 in the day, she took a cup of hot coffee up to her. She was 
 motionless; her head covered. 
 
 " My daughter !" said Mrs. Morris, softly, drawing down the 
 coverlet. 
 
 She looked at her, but did not speak. 
 
 " How do you feel now?" 
 
 " I don't know, ma'am." 
 
 " You are not quite awake yet, I believe," said her mother, 
 smiling. " Here, drink this it will do you good." 
 
 She took it. 
 
 " By the way, my dear," continued Mrs Morris, busying her- 
 self with the folds of a curtain, which did not hang to suit her. 
 " I have melancholy news for you. Our friend, Mr. Holmes, 
 died suddenly, night before last. I never was more astonished 
 and grieved in my life. He was such a handsome, promising 
 young man, and so attached to us ! I said directly how sorry 
 you would be to hear it. You were so much together where 
 are the pins ? oh ! here they are ! His disease was a rapid inflam- 
 mation of the lungs. The funeral will take place at the church 
 this afternoon; some of us must go, if the weather is bad. Do 
 you think you will be well enough?"
 
 ALONE. 203 
 
 " Yes ma'am." 
 
 " Well I hope so ; and now I will go down and keep the 
 children still, so that you can sleep." 
 
 The thunder of a thousand cannon would not have disturbed 
 her. She heard and saw all that passed ; but in place of heart 
 and sense, was a dead vacuity, empty and soundless, although it 
 had eugulphed thought and feeling. She went to the funeral. 
 Prudent, appearance-loving Mrs. Morris, dexterously flung a veil 
 before the stony eyes, whose tearlessness people might observe, 
 and wonder aloud, as she did mentally, at Ellen's want of 
 feeling ;" but her daughter quietly raised it. The church was 
 crowded. The untimely end of one so gifted and popular, thrilled 
 the community, as the breast of one man. All was as still as the 
 grave ; the roar of the busy city-life deadened by the heavy atmos- 
 phere and cushioned earth. The wail of a clarion stirred the 
 air; nearer and nearer it sounded; and the plaintive breathing 
 of other instruments ; and at long intervals, a single roll of the 
 drum ; nearer and nearer they ceased, and the procession moved 
 up the aisle. First walked Charles Dana and his sister-in-law, 
 clad in deep mourning as for a brother ; then Morton Lacy, pale 
 and sorrowful, and on his arm another black-robed figure, (such 
 privilege had Friendship above Love !) then a small band of 
 fellow-artists ; and the coffin ! borne and followed by the Masonic 
 fraternity, of which he was a member. It was set down in front 
 of the pulpit ; " the Book," with its drapery of black crape, laid 
 reverently upon it; and the service proceeded. There were 
 prayers and hymns and a sermon ; she heard none ; the coffin 
 lay in her sight his coffin ! It was not! Where then was the 
 vigorous life which moved the still form within it ? where the 
 soul of splendid imaginings and lofty aspirations ? where the 
 heart, with its wealth of feeling ? they could not die ! He lived 
 still and living, loved her. That narrow coffin was a horrible 
 mockery. And so, when the cover was removed, and those, who 
 from curiosity or affection, desired to look for the last time upon 
 his face, filed slowly by it, she arose too. He was there ! royally 
 beautiful, even in his prison-house ; the rich black locks swept 
 back from the marble temples; and a smile resting upon the 
 lips. Oh ! what power bears woman up in a moment like this 1 
 Her life her world was shut in with the replacing of that lid ;
 
 204 ALONE 
 
 but she saw each screw returned to its place, without a tear or 
 a shudder; herself, proposed to her mother, that they should 
 follow the corpse to its home ; and watched them heap the snow 
 and clods upon it. And through that and many succeeding 
 nights, she stood in the attic, in cold and darkness, straining 
 her eyes towards where the gleaming tomb-stones were visible 
 in the day, and fancying she could tell which shadowed an 
 unsodded mound. 
 
 Charley was his friend's executor. In the fulfilment of his 
 trust, he found a casket marked " To be given, at my death, to 
 E. M." He thought of sealing it \tp, and sending it to her 
 with a note from himself; but decided upon further deliberation, 
 to entrust it to Ida. It was a painful duty. She was not able 
 yet to speak of Lynn without distressing emotion. His decease 
 was so sudden, so awful, snatched, as he was, from her very 
 side, with the barest intimation of his danger, after months of 
 intimate intercourse. She mourned for him as sisters and friends 
 seldom weep. Charley did not command. " She was the mors 
 proper person," he said; "but he would not grieve her by 
 enforcing the request." 
 
 " I cannot meet her !" said she. " He was so dear to us 
 how can I endure the sight cf her indifference? They say she 
 was calm and careless while they were burying him." 
 
 " Calm she certainly was ; but the glance I had at her face 
 assured me not careless. I am much mistaken if she was not 
 the greatest sufferer by that grave. I was angry with her, pre- 
 viously ; I believe now that she merits our compassion." 
 
 Yet it was an unwilling heart that Ida carried to the inter- 
 view. Ellen sent for her to come to her room. "I am busy, 
 you see," said she, with the ghost of a smile. Ida held the pre- 
 cious legacy more tightly, as she noticed her occupation. A ball- 
 dress was spread upon the bed, and she was fastening roses upon 
 the skirt. Her cheek was white, as Ida glanced at her own sad- 
 colored dress. 
 
 " You are going to the party to-night, then ?" said the latter. 
 
 " Yes will Josephine attend ?" 
 
 " I have not heard her gay have not inquired have not 
 thought of it." 
 
 Despairing of broaching the subject in any other way, she
 
 ALONE. 205 
 
 took the casket from under her shawl, and laid it upon the 
 dress. 
 
 " The living forget sooner than the dead, Ellen !" was all she 
 said. 
 
 The unhappy girl recoiled at the familiar characters upon the 
 lid, and stretched out her arms with an imploring cry. Ida 
 reached her as she fell. She had fainted. Charley's words were 
 verified, and Ida blamed herself severely for her cruel abruptness. 
 Her tears ran fast, as she strove to restore consciousness " Oh ! 
 Ida Lynn!" groaned Ellen, reviving. Reserve, pride, self- 
 control were borne down; they wept in each other's arms. 
 With the casket pressed to her bosom, Ellen heard his last mes- 
 sage, and the hopeful words he had spoken of the future, he was 
 not to know upon earth. 
 
 " I did love him ! Heaven is my witness I did love him !" 
 she cried, anguishedly. " He did not condemn me; but I can 
 never forgive myself! If I could have seen him once more to 
 tell him so ! Dead ! oh ! that I were in the grave beside him !" 
 
 This was grief without a glimmer of hope. Ida had no word 
 of comfort. 
 
 Ellen's eye fell upon the gossamer robe. she threw it upon the 
 floor, and trampled it. I hate it ! and myself, and everything 
 else ! I am a hypocrite ! a lying hypocrite ! with my hollow 
 smiles and broken heart. Leave me ! go! or I shall hate you!" 
 
 Ida left her thus writhing under the scorpion-lash of remorse, 
 and rejecting consolation. She met Josephine, a square or two 
 from home, and upon the door-step, Mr. Lacy. Admitting him, 
 she ran up stairs to efface the marks of her recent agitation. 
 Her pallor and swollen eyes remained, however, and did not 
 escape him. He did not begin, as many would have done, in 
 his place, to speak of topics entirely foreign to what was in their 
 thoughts; he wished to apply a curative, not an anodyne. 
 
 " Charley tells me you are going to the country, before long;" 
 he said. " I do not regret it, as I should if I were to stay here 
 myself. After the first of April, I shall study at home, until 
 autumn. You are to pay your friend Carry a visit, are you not ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " She is the < sister' I have heard so much of?" 
 
 The same I wish you knew her." 
 18
 
 206 ALONE. 
 
 "I think I do. Her cheerful society is what you need. 
 While it is neither possible, nor desirable to forget that we have 
 been bereaved, we should beware how we indulge in a luxury of 
 woe. Our duty to those we have lost, does not oblige us to 
 neglect the friends who are spared to us." 
 
 " Very few remain to ine," said Ida, tremulously. 
 
 You are wrong. You may never find one who will fill his 
 place; but the rest love you the more, that you are afflicted. 
 Charley is a true brother." 
 
 " He is and of late he is more unreserved, more affectionate 
 than he used to be ; his sympathy is very sweet. I must speak 
 of yourself, also, Mr. Lacy, although I have no language to 
 thank you for your kindness. I fear I have been wearisome at 
 times ; but you seem to understand why this was no common 
 bereavement to me." 
 
 " So far from being wearied, I am grateful for your confidence. 
 No act of mine shall cause you to repent it." 
 
 " Charley has given me some lines which he thinks were 
 written recently," said Ida. " They were among some loose 
 sheets in a portfolio of drawings. I wept over them, but they 
 comforted me. I have been wishing that you had them. This 
 is a rough copy, you observe ; and probably not read after being 
 penned." 
 
 Mr. Lacy' s eyes filled, as he read at the top of the page, 
 . M., after a visit from M. L." 
 
 "ALL IN CHRIST. 
 
 "Jesus, Saviour! from Thy dwelling, 
 
 High all stars and thrones above, 
 Hear my faltering accents, telling 
 
 Of weak faith and smouldering love. 
 Poor love for Thee, the only worthy 
 
 Dull faith in Thee, the only wise- 
 While to all things base and earthy, 
 
 How madly cling my wistful eyes ! 
 
 I am blind ! in rough paths groping, 
 
 With outstretched hands and sightless eyes; 
 Through gloom so dense, I scarce am hoping 
 
 That dawn will ever gild the skies. 
 Black, grisly spectres hover o'er me, 
 
 Filling my quaking soul with fright; 
 Thou of all worlds the sun and glory, 
 
 Radiant Redeemer ! be my light.
 
 ALONE, 207 
 
 I am lonely ! often keeping 
 Sad vigils o'er affections dead ; 
 
 Some in the grave's strait chamber sleeping- 
 Some like bursting bubbles fled ! 
 
 Yet for full love my deep soul longeth 
 Gently each seeking tendril bend 
 
 To Thee to whom that soul belongeth ; 
 Loving Redeemer ! be my friend. 
 
 I am guilty ! oh how sinning ! 
 
 Against my kind against my God ; 
 Hell and corruption ever winning 
 
 My soul into the downward road. 
 Insanely gloating on pollution 
 
 Quaffing thick lees for pleasures pure 
 Rend thou away each fell delusion, 
 
 Holy Redeemer! be my cure I" 
 
 "Do you recollect the visit to which he refers?" inquired 
 Ida. 
 
 "I was with him until late, one night, a week before his 
 death," was the reply ; " and our conversation may have inspired 
 the thoughts he has expressed here ; but I cannot say with cer- 
 tainty, that it did. If this temper of spirit and heart was habit- 
 ual to him, what may we not hope ?" 
 
 " If I" exclaimed Ida, sadly. " Doubt is agonizing. It is 
 not consistent with God's mercy that he should be consigned to 
 never ending misery; he whose faults made us love him better; 
 the soul of honor and integrity ! I will not believe that so much 
 that was pure and good is quenched in eternal darkness. This 
 thought is with me night and day. What authority have 
 men, his inferiors by nature hardly his equals in the practice 
 of virtue, to doom him, and hope a happier fate for the them- 
 selves ?" 
 
 " Who has done this?" asked Mr. Lacy, sternly. 
 
 " More than one, in my hearing ; and Charley was exasperated 
 to insult a man, a church member, who exhorted him not ' to 
 imitate his example, and thereby meet the same awful punish- 
 ment.' Charley regrets now, that he spoke rudely to one hia 
 senior, and whom he had hitherto respected, but says he, <a 
 Christian should not forget that he is a man !' " 
 
 "Nor does he," replied Morton. "From some who cross the 
 river of Death we hear the < All's Well/ when their feet touch 
 the solid ground ; then we may rejoice in the confident assurance 
 that we shall meet them again. As many pass over in timid, as
 
 208 ALONE. 
 
 in despairing silence; timidity, exchanged for rapture, on the 
 bright shore beyond. God only knows the heart only knows 
 when the doomed oversteps the bounds He has appointed for his 
 rnercy ; and as we hope for it ourselves, we should tremble at the 
 thought of limiting it by our finite judgments. In this immea- 
 surable love and pity is our trust, Ida; doubts and fearings 
 cannot solve the mystery j we know this, however ' He doth 
 not afflict willingly/ and < remembereth our feeble frame/ Who 
 pardons a child's faults more than a parent ? and < Our Father' 
 is also his. Yet," continued he, " Charley erred in repulsing 
 the warning, kindly, if injudiciously extended. The suffering we 
 experience in our uncertainty as to his condition, should teach 
 us to make our salvation sure, so that when our hour shall come 
 if a call at midnight, we may not leave those who love us, 
 comfortless." 
 
 " His death has caused a heart-rending void," said Ida. " I 
 start whenever the door opens at the hours he was accustomed 
 to visit us. At Mr. Dana's, I am listening all the time for his 
 step or voice. Oh ! why do nonentities, cumberers of the earth, 
 spin out a tiresome life, and the loved and useful perish ?" 
 
 " Perhaps they are taken away from the evil to come. You 
 would not rebel if you believed this ? At best, what are the 
 short years of toil and change we pass below, compared with the 
 never-ending life of our heavenly home ?" 
 
 " You forget that I have no portion in that home, Mr. Lacy." 
 
 " No portion ! You do not mean to refuse an inheritance so 
 graciously offered ! It may be long before we have another oppor- 
 tunity to speak of these things ; will you make me a promise ?" 
 
 " If I can perform it ; " answered she. 
 
 " It is that you will every day, ask yourself, < What happiness 
 does my soul desire that Christ cannot, and will not bestow ?' 
 Will you do this ?" 
 
 She promised. 
 
 " It seems impossible," he pursued, " that a sorer trial than 
 that which you are now undergoing, can befall you ; yet there 
 may be such in reserve, and then, I would have you recollect, 
 that as He is the only happiness, He is also the only comfort. 
 Willingly gladly as I would suffer in your stead, I would not 
 save you a pang, if I thought it was His means to bring you t.o 
 Himself."
 
 ALONE. 209 
 
 He spoke with emotion, as if possessed with the conviction 
 that the event he adverted to would assuredly take place ; and 
 that this was his sole chance of preparing her for it. He arose 
 she gave him her hand it was taken as silently, and -held for 
 a long minute. 
 
 " This is not our parting," said he ; " if we both live, I shall 
 see you again soon, but to provide against contingencies, I will 
 ask you now to write to me ; I mean, of course, in answer to my 
 letters, as you would to Charley to a brother, will you ?" 
 
 " Yes, if your letters are as frank as your speech, and I am 
 granted a like indulgence." 
 
 True to his promise, he called upon the eve of her departure, 
 but the presence of the family and other visitors prevented 
 private conversation ; and Charley's manoeuvres, ekilful and un- 
 suspected as they were, failed to effect a diversion of Josephine's 
 watchfulness. Yet as they said " farewell " Ida felt a card 
 slipped into her hand. Upon it was pencilled, " Remember 
 your promise. Mizpah." 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 LIFE at Poplar-grove was much as it had been, the previous 
 summer; still and bright. The mornings were spent in Carry's 
 pleasant sewing-room, from which male visitors were rigorously 
 excluded ; in the afternoon, were the siesta, and ride or walk ; 
 at night, music and social chat. Carry feared that this monotony, 
 while it suited her wishes and employments, might be less 
 agreeable to her friend; that she would miss the gay whirl, the 
 intoxicating incense of her city career. But Ida was contented, 
 even happy. Beloved and caressed by the whole household, in 
 the home of kindred tastes and feeling ; and above all, with the 
 firm hope that her life-long search was at last ended ; her wild 
 cravings laid to rest beneath the waves, which welling from the 
 unsealed fountain, had risen higher and higher, until her soul 
 was overflowing with love and rapture; she revelled in the 
 quiet hours of friendly communion, and the sweeter seasons of 
 witching reverie. Carry knew nothing of the spring of her 
 18*
 
 210 ALONE. 
 
 happiness. She saw that her mind had acquired a more healthy 
 tone ; that her affections had expanded, and attributed it to 
 the influence of friendship ; to a strength of mind, which had 
 determined the world should be what it chose to have it ; to 
 anything but the true cause, an idolatry that left no room for 
 suspicion or discontent. Once Carry alluded to the twilight 
 promenade, when Ida had told her of her forebodings of the 
 wane of their love, after the nuptials, which were now fast 
 approaching ; and was answered by a warm embrace and smile, 
 which said those fears were quelled, and might have betrayed to 
 more prying eyes, the enchantment that had exorcised them. 
 Her evening improvisations entranced, not only the parlor-circle, 
 but drew to the windows a larger audience from without, spell- 
 bound by her heart-melodies. All her delight was not in memory. 
 Letters came and went; from Charley and Mrs. Dana; and 
 gossiping notes from Anna Talbot and other of " the girls." 
 These, Carry enjoyed with her, and asked no questions about 
 those which she did not see. Morton's were what he engaged 
 they should be ; sincere and friendly, without a hint that could 
 alarm her delicacy. They were tinctured with a sadness, she 
 did not comprehend, until she noticed his many references to 
 his sister's sufferings, and his anxiety on her account. .It was 
 her turn to console; and her most valued treasure was the 
 letter, in which he thanked and blessed her. 
 
 Carry was to be married the last of July. The middle of 
 June brought Mrs. Dana and the children, under Charley's 
 protection. For the week of his stay, he was the life of the 
 house. One cloud was upon the spirits of all; Lynn was 
 missed and mourned, and by none, with more sorrowful tender- 
 ness, than by his vivacious friend ; but he was unselfish even 
 in this. Ida could win him to speak of their loss ; to the others, 
 he never mentioned it of his own accord. She was correct in 
 saying that he had grown more communicative and affectionate. 
 He seemed to have transferred to her the watchful love that had 
 been Lynn's safeguard and solace. 
 
 " Nothing changes you, Mars' Charley?" said Uncle Ike,, the 
 plantation patriarch, halting at the piazza steps one afternoon, 
 when he had crawled out into the sunshine. 
 
 " I should like to say the same for you, Uncle Ike ; time and 
 sickness have not treated you as well as you deserve."
 
 ALONE. 211 
 
 " Better'n I desarve, Mars' Charles ! heap better'n I desarve ! 
 Time for me to be packed and shoed for my journey. I'se lived 
 in these low-grounds of sorrow, nigh 'pon ninety years, and 
 many' the young folks I've seen step down into the grave before 
 me. When I heard that poor, handsome Mars' Lynn had gone 
 too, 'pears-like I was ready to grumble 'cause 'twant me but 
 'twas the Almighty's will, Mars' Charles, 'twas his will. It 
 'joices me to see you so well and lively jest like you used to be. 
 You don't take trouble, I reckon, Marster." 
 
 " No; it's against my principles; beside, we'll have a plenty 
 given to us." 
 
 "Fact, Marster! You aint knowed much yet; but 'the evil 
 days will come, when you shall say, I have no pleasure in 
 them !' " 
 
 Charley kept his seat upon the step for some time after the 
 old man had gone : once he sighed heavily. Ida was in the 
 parlor, and longed to go out to him, for she guessed the tenor 
 of his thoughts, but doubted the propriety of intruding upon 
 them. He got up, presently, and began to walk the porch, 
 whistling an opera air. Spying her through the window, he 
 came in. "You are ruining your eyes and health with this 
 eternal stitching ;" said he. " As I live, you are boring holes 
 in that piece of cloth, for the pleasure of sewing them up again ! 
 No wonder woman's work is never ended ! What are you 
 making ?" 
 
 " A handkerchief." She displayed the corner, in which she 
 was embroidering, " Carry Carleton." 
 
 " Where are the others ?" he inquired. 
 
 " Mrs. Dana is in the nursery'; Carry asleep ; Dr. Carleton 
 and Arthur abroad." 
 
 "Come, walk with me !" requested he. Any handkerchief,- 
 a wedding mouchoir can wait an hour." 
 
 Their course was along the brink of a deep ravine ; over- 
 shadowed by large old trees ; and bridged by fallen trunks. 
 The sides were grass-grown, and at the bottom rolled the rivulet, 
 which had fretted out the gorge ; blending its complainings with 
 the low rush of the wind through the forest. 
 
 So one feeling often wears away the soul !" remarked 
 Charley, reflectively. " Man is but clay after all !"
 
 212 ALONE. 
 
 " You ! the champion of your species turning against them !" 
 exclaimed Ida. 
 
 " No. I am still an unbeliever in the total corruption of our 
 nature ; a doctrine so opposed to reason and experience, that I 
 will never assent to it, if it is preached at me until doomsday. 
 But this is a miserably .unsatisfactory life \" 
 
 " Yet the world says you enjoy it." 
 
 " And do you, an adept in concealment, credit a man's outward 
 show?" 
 
 "At least, I do not practise this accomplishment upon my 
 friends ;" replied Ida, piqued. 
 
 " Did I say that you did ? I am not sure that I could not 
 prove this point, too ] but we will let it pass for the present. 
 I believe you to be what you appear to me. Carry would never 
 forgive one who impugned your sincerity ; and what would Mr. 
 Gerrnaine say ?" 
 
 This was a gentleman of the neighbourhood, whose marked 
 attentions to Ida subjected her to the raillery of the Poplar- 
 grove household. 
 
 " Nonsense I" said she, laughing. " He has never been 
 beyond the outermost court of my heart." 
 
 " I own his does not appear likely to be the hand to unlock 
 the penetralia. This is the spot I wanted to show you. Is it 
 not a fairy nook ?" 
 
 It was a mossy bank at the foot of a venerable sycamore, from 
 whose branches the trailing vines touched their heads. A spring 
 of the clearest crystal bubbled among its roots. 
 
 Oh ! for a fairy goblet 1" said Ida. 
 
 "It is easily made, if these leaves are large enough," answered 
 Charley. He gathered some, but they were too irregularly- 
 shaped to suit his purpose. " It is a simple process," said he, 
 as he failed, after several trials, to convey a thimbleful of water 
 to his amused companion ; " but as the man said who tried to 
 fly and couldn't 'there is every thing in knowing how to do it.' 
 I never like to be outdone, even in trifles. I saw some leaves as 
 we came along that I know will do excuse me a moment, and 
 I will get them." 
 
 He was gone before she could object; and she strolled idly 
 around the giant trunk of the sycamore, admiring the al fresco
 
 ALONE. 213 
 
 boudoir, of which it was the centre ornament. She set her foot 
 upon something harder than the soft carpet it was a small 
 morocco case, which she picked up, with an ejaculation of sur- 
 prise, and without a thought of who had dropped it, opened. 
 She had nearly let it fall, as Carry's lovely face smiled at her 
 from within. " Arthur has been here," was her comment, but 
 a glossy curl untwined itself from an envelope labelled in Charley's 
 hand " The seat under the honeysuckle. May ls<, 18 ," a 
 date four years back. There was no impropriety in his having 
 Carry's likenesss; they had long been in feeling what they 
 were shortly to become in name brother and sister ; but her 
 heart beat so with indefinable terror that she could not stand ; 
 it was as though, instead of the senseless case, another heart, its 
 every throbbing revealed, lay in her hand. 
 
 " You are tired waiting, I suppose, but I had a longer search 
 than" 
 
 The glow of a stormy sunset rushed to his face as he saw the 
 miniature she did not attempt to conceal. She had never con- 
 ceived of the dormant passion which now awoke in his eye and 
 form ; but she did not quail. 
 
 " I found this over there, and opened it thoughtlessly, not 
 suspecting what it was or to whom it belonged. I am very 
 sorry." 
 
 The storm passed while she was speaking. The man's wonder- 
 ful self-command was master. He dipped up the water with a 
 careful hand ; the leafy cup did not quiver. 
 
 "Do you like it? is it cool ?" 
 
 " Yes thank you." 
 
 He drank draught after draught himself, threw away the leaves, 
 and resumed his seat upon the bank. 
 
 " There is no help for it, Ida ! you must hear what I did not 
 intend you ever should ; not that I disdain your sympathy, but 
 it is a rule with me not to disturb my friends with troubles, which 
 they cannot alleviate. T do not know what suspicions have been 
 forced upon youj if they are of the honor and affection I owe my 
 brother, or of Tier fidelity to him, they are groundless. That 
 picture was painted for me before I had any intimation that his 
 was the prize I foolishly hoped to secure. I relinquished her j 
 out this is the amulet which has saved me in many temptations.
 
 214 ALONE. 
 
 Although hope was no more, memory remained ; and vice could 
 not mate with the visions of purity that memory recalled. There 
 has not been a time since I first saw her, a laughing babe, just 
 liberated from her nurse's arms, when I have not loved her more 
 than any other earthly being. As boy and man I have thought, 
 studied, labored for her alone. When I quitted home to seek 
 my fortune, she was still a child, who clung weepingly to me, 
 and kissed me as fondly as she did her father. It was the last 
 time ! At my next visit she was away at school ; at the second 
 I obtained that curl. She was then fifteen; innocent and loving, 
 full of jesting surprise at < Charley's mannish ways/ and hurt 
 that I would not call her ' sister.' She did not ask this the 
 ensuing summer. Lynn was with me ; and in the confidence of 
 a hope that saw no cloud ahead, I imparted to him my dreams 
 and desires, and engaged him to take her portrait secretly. I 
 went back to New York, and wrote to her father, asking his 
 sanction of the proposal I could not delay. The letter was upon 
 my desk, ready for the post, when one arrived from Arthur. He 
 was not to blame for his silence , I had been as reserved to him j 
 but he entreated my forgiveness for hiding this, his only secret, 
 from me. She knew it now ; her father's only objection was 
 their youth a ( fault,' he remarked, jocosely, < which will mend 
 with time.' In place of the letter to my guardian, I forwarded 
 one to my brother, congratulating him upon his happy engage- 
 ment to the woman I idolized. He is worthy of her, if a mortal 
 can be. I can see that it is best. He has talents and energy, 
 and loves her as she should be loved I am rough and eccentric, 
 caring and striving for nothing, now that my guiding star has set " 
 
 " Charley ! Charley ! you shall not so defame yourself !" cried 
 Ida bursting into tears. " You the kindest most generous 
 of men ! you are worthy of her ! Oh ! I wish it could be I" 
 
 " Hush ! hush ! I would not have it otherwise. I came home 
 last summer, and saw them together without a pang of selfish 
 regret ; and gloried in my subjugation of a passion their betrothal 
 made sinful, until our ride to < the Castle.' My arm saved her 
 from mutilation or death, and instead of thanksgiving, sprang 
 up a horrible envy, that I had rescued her for him. It was 
 momentary, but the repentance was bitter. I abhor myself 
 when I think of it. I have never fancied since that I did not
 
 ALONE. 215 
 
 lore her. I know it as well now that another month will 
 make her his bride, as I did when hope was highest. Poor Lynn ! 
 it grieved him to his dying day !" 
 
 Silence and tears was a fitting reply to this narration. It 
 came to Ida, like sudden death to a festival ; producing not only 
 sorrow and dismay, but a trembling insecurity an awful whis- 
 per "Who next?" Did human love, then, always terminate 
 in misery ? Was there no remedy ? She wanted Charley to speak 
 again, and say that he had some source of comfort; or at least, 
 strength for the last, greatest trial. His words put this hope to 
 flight. 
 
 "I have borne as much as I can; if it be cowardly to avert 
 further suffering, I am not brave. I have business in the West 
 next month, which could, but shall not be postponed. John will 
 not know of it in time to provide a substitute. Arthur will be 
 disappointed; I would spare him this trifling pain, if I were cer- 
 tain that I should not give him more by remaining. I shall not 
 wear this after the marriage I may become a castaway without 
 it, for aught I know. When Lynn died, I said, < My secret is 
 buried with him.' I have committed what the Machiavelis of 
 the day would call an unwise act," added he, smiling ; ' consigned 
 it to the keeping of a woman' but I have no fears for its safety 
 with you. Do not let it prey upon your spirits. I would not 
 saution a less sympathetic nature. Be happy, Ida, it is your 
 manifest destiny ; and I am still disinterested enough to < rejoice 
 with those who do rejoice.' The sun is setting you shall not 
 go to the house with that woe-begone face. Smile ! or I don't 
 stir." 
 
 He laughed at her attempt. " Rather hysterical, with that 
 sob treading upon its heels ; but it will do. Come, sister !" 
 
 Ida could have cried more heartily at an expression and 
 tone, that reminded her of Lynn ; but he was resolute in not 
 allowing it. 
 
 Carry was upon the piazza. " My dear friends !" cried she, 
 running to meet them. " Where have you been ! here's a house 
 full of company, and I have sent scouts in every direction. Did 
 not you hear Dr see them?" 
 
 " f I heard the owls scream, and the crickets cry ;' " said 
 Charley. "Who is here, that we can prefer to each other's 
 society ?"
 
 216 ALONE. 
 
 " Your forest ramble has taught you gallantry. You'll find 
 him but a dull scholar, Ida why, there are Messrs. Faulkner, 
 Kuston and G-ermaine, impatiently waiting the belle's appear- 
 ance." 
 
 " Irresistible more irresistible most irresistible ! Are you 
 going off to beautify, Miss Ida? Don't hurry I will tell them 
 we got lost or drowned in the woods." 
 
 When the girls went down, it was candle-light j and the 
 " Irresistibles" were laughing themselves black in the face, over 
 the piano, and the "funniest of fellows," who was entertaining 
 them by an original parody upon " Oh no ! I never mention 
 her !" 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 CHARLEY departed, and for several days, Ida disregarded his 
 injunction of cheerfulness. She liked the warm-hearted, reliable 
 Arthur; but she was unjust in her vexation at his happiness, 
 when she pictured the lonely brother, who had sacrificed his, to 
 preserve it unabated. Her conscience reproached her for a dis- 
 play of this impatience, while they were watching the receding 
 form of their visitor. Arthur linked her arm in his, saying 
 playfully, " Come, cousin Ida, tell us what made you and my 
 rattling brother so sober this morning. You parted as if you 
 did not expect to meet again in this world. Is there any hope 
 of my claiming nearer kinship ?" 
 
 With a quick, fretful gesture she broke from him ; and although 
 she recovered herself immediately, and answered pleasantly, he 
 was amazed and wounded, and never repeated the familiarity. 
 A letter from Mr. Lacy came opportunely to brighten the cur- 
 rent of thought. She wished Charley could read it ; but as this 
 was not to be, she embodied its sentiments in her reply to a 
 communication she had received from him. She was in the 
 habit of moralising speculatively ; and he had no clue to betray 
 from what quarter this practical strain had emanated. 
 
 John arrived a week before the marriage, with intelligence 
 that set the house in a turmoil ; Charley had started to Missouri
 
 ALONE. 217 
 
 that morning. He "was the bearer of his excuses and the 
 bridal gift." Carry wept ; and Arthur was indignant ; Dr. 
 Carleton proposed a postponement, which was unanimously voted 
 for by the servants. "Twouldn't be no wedding wuth talking 
 about, 'thout Mars' Charles was thar !" The motion was strenu- 
 ously opposed by a minority of three John, Ida and Arthur; 
 John asserting, in his business way, that the ceremony could 
 be performed as well without the absentee ; and that his example 
 of punctuality in keeping engagements should be improved. The 
 two others deprecated a change, without distinctly stating their 
 reasons. They carried the day. Poplar-grove was visible for 
 miles around, on the moonless night of the bridal. Lights blazed 
 in every window ; starry festoons depended from the trees ; and 
 in the garden, the glow-worm fairies might have been celebrating 
 the royal birth-night. In doors, the scene was one of bewilder- 
 ing beauty. Fairies of mortal mould flitted through the summer 
 bowers, at whose decoration, Flora must have presided in person. 
 Carry was too modest to covet display ; but Dr. Carleton was 
 wealthy and liberal ; and Ida and Mrs. Dana, who were both 
 fond of splendor and excitement, had his hearty concurrence in 
 their designs. The former planned everything. It was a new 
 business to her ; but she struck out boldly, copying a gorgeous 
 conception of her fertile brain, guided solely by her eye and 
 judgment. Her subordinates marvelled at first; but had too 
 much faith in her to rebel ; and as the idea was developed, their 
 industry and delight surpassed her expectations. When com- 
 pleted, the effect was so novel and pleasing, they were ready to fall 
 down and worship her; and more cultivated taste did not derogate 
 from their eulogistic approbation. Dr. Carleton thanked her with 
 moistened eyes; Arthur laughingly wondered " what talent next ? 
 her versatile genius kept him in a state of perpetual wonderment ;" 
 but Carry's silent kiss was dearer praise than all. As first brides- 
 maid, and an inmate of the mansion, Ida was virtually mistress of 
 the ceremonies; Mrs. Dana confining her attention to the arrange- 
 ment of the banquet, dressing-rooms and chambers. Carry had 
 invited all of her schoolmates who were within reach ; among those 
 who came, were Anna Talbot, Emma Glenn, Ellen Morris, who was 
 staying at Mr. Truman's, and our old friend Celestia ; " cousin 
 Lucindy" being again conveniently remembered. The three first 
 19
 
 218 ALONE 
 
 named, were bridesmaids. Ida walked with Mr. Euston ; and 
 as the train formed, she thought of the two who would have 
 taken precedence of him ; of the chilly sleep of the pulseless 
 heart, and the desolation of the living one; while the irrevo- 
 cable words were said, she heard, like the echo of a knell 
 'caring for nothing, striving for nothing- -now that my guidiug 
 star has set ;" and the sigh, which contended with her smile of 
 salutation to the bride, was "poor Charley!" 
 
 Ellen Morris, too, may have had her reminiscences ; this 
 event could not but revive the recollection of her sister's bridal, 
 not a year before ; but the sparkling hazel orbs were unshadowed 
 ;isthen; her manner as charmingly coquettish. Celestia had 
 not forgotten Mr. Euston ; and seized an early opportunity to 
 renew their flirtation. The gentleman was not so willing; he 
 was not exactly in love with his partner; but was not insensible 
 to her attractions, and that in his position he was envied by most 
 of the single men present cordially hated by one. Ida knew 
 not that he was taxing every energy to achieve fascination. She 
 felt the nervousness of a youthful hostess that things should "go 
 off" well ; the company be pleased with their reception and them- 
 selves; conscious, that although the praise or censure might not 
 be put upon her, yet in reality the result depended upon her 
 exertions. Solicitude yielded to triumphant satisfaction, as the 
 electric sympathy spread, leaping from tongue to tongue ; and 
 evolving, in dazzling coruscations, from kindling eyes. She did 
 not seek her reward then, but she had it. Few were so blind 
 and ungrateful, as not to recognise her hand in the pleasures 
 offered to them. The girls, the most fastidious of the various 
 classes for whose whims a party-giver has to cater, forgave her 
 magnet influence upon the choicest beaux, as they were them- 
 selves well-supplied notwithstanding; the old people were charmed 
 with her respectful affability ; and of her immediate attendants, 
 there was not one who was not convinced that he contributed 
 most to her amusement. 
 
 Ill-nature is indigenous to all soils, and spite creates its own 
 food ; 'and she did not escape wholly unscathed. She overheard 
 the epithets, "flirt," and "dashing," in the same breath with 
 her name ; but she laughed at the silly shot. If she flirted, no 
 one was offended or injured ; if she dashed, she did it with a
 
 ALONE. 219 
 
 grace her maligners-iried vainly to copy. As she left the supper- 
 room, a glance at the hall-mirror showed that her hcad-dresa 
 was disordered ; and she repaired to the dressing-room to rectify 
 it. She paused before the glass there, in unfeigned wonder at 
 the reflected figure. It was the first time a spark of personal 
 vanity had ever inflamed her mind. She knew that she was 
 admired; she believed, because she amused people by her 
 sprightly repartee ; compliments upon her appearance were for- 
 gotten as soon as heard, leaving, as their only trace, contempt 
 for their author. To-night, the thoughtful eyes were alive with 
 light; the cheeks, usually colorless, as rosy as Carry's; and the 
 wreathing smile imparted a wondrous beauty to the proud lips. 
 A softer, sweeter happiness succeeded the girlish exultation 
 pardonable since it was short-lived she turned from the mirror, 
 with indifference, as she murmured 
 
 " Young, loving and beloved! 
 These are brief words, but " 
 
 An exclamation interrupted the quotation. She snatched up a 
 letter from the table. " It must have come this afternoon, and 
 they forgot to give it me. How unkind !" This was too public 
 a place, there was constant passing in and out; but she could 
 not be debarred its perusal until the guests' departure. A closet 
 opened beyond the chamber ; she carried a lamp in thither, and 
 bolted the door. He wrote kindly, but more constrainedly than 
 formerly; and the sense of some phrases was confused, as if he 
 had commenced them, meaning to say one thing, and changed 
 his mind ere th-3 conclusion. His sister had been very ill, he 
 said, but was now out of danger; and his statement of this 
 simple fact appeared embarrassed. She read two pages in per- 
 plexity whether to chide his ambiguity, or her unsettled 
 thoughts; "And now, my dear friend," so ran the third, "1 
 have to solicit indulgence for my egotism, while I speak of an 
 event of incomparable importance and than which, nothing was 
 more remote from my thoughts, four months ago. Annie has 
 another nurse besides myself this summer; an early playmate ot 
 ours, a gentle girl, who, I think, must resemble your friend 
 Carry, in character and person. She visited Annie early in 
 April; and an angel of healing she has proved to our beloved 
 sufferer. It is an affecting sight one so young and fair, desert-
 
 220 ALONE. 
 
 ing the society she would adorn, for the wearisome offices of a 
 sick-room. I have said that she is gentle, and in disposition 
 and deportment essentially feminine; add to these, the intelli- 
 gence aud accomplishments of a strong and thoroughly-trained 
 mind ; and you will not be surprised that she has gained our 
 hearts; will not accuse me of precipitancy, when you bear that 
 I have sought and obtained her promise to return to us, united 
 by a dearer tie than the bonds of friendship. I do not merit 
 this gift at the hands of Providence; for I have rebelled, in times 
 past, at the strokes I knew were just, but could not acknowledge 
 were merciful. There is nothing earthly which can compare 
 with the love of a true-hearted woman. If I ever needed an 
 incentive to industry 1 have it in this. Months years, perhaps 
 must elapse before our union. It may be said, I have not 
 acted prudently in forming an engagement, whose consumma- 
 tion is so distant ; but I have obeyed the voice of my heart and 
 conscience." 
 
 Aye ! crumple the sheet in your grasp, and sink to the earth 
 a crushed thing! struck down from the zenith of your pride and 
 bliss Crushed and mangled but living and feeling! Grief 
 does not always stun it seldom kills you must live, although 
 each lacerated heart-string is crying out for death ! Say not that 
 it came without warning! Was there no voice in your early 
 bereavement in the stern lessons of your girlhood in the frus- 
 tration of an hundred cherished purposes in Lynn's suicidal 
 madness in Ellen's remorse in Charley's withered heart? 
 Why wers you made to feel, see, know these, if not to teach 
 you, that they who lean upon mortal's love trust to the weakest 
 of rotten reeds they " who sow the wind, must reap the whirl 
 wind " black, bitter, scorching !
 
 ALONE. 221 
 
 CHAPTEK XX. 
 
 " I NEVER thought you unreasonable before, Ida." 
 
 " I am sorry you should now, Carry." 
 
 " How can I help it, when after travelling with us for weeks 
 you suddenly resolve to return to Eastern Virginia by yourself; 
 and to that lonesome place in the country, which you have not 
 visited for years!" 
 
 " I have an escort ; a gentleman who is on his way to Rich- 
 mond, and will take charge of me." 
 
 11 But why this notion, just as we decided to go north ? Has 
 your curiosity to behold Niagara diminished since your sight of 
 'the Bridge?'" 
 
 " Frankly and truly, I do not care to see it. I would not 
 ride to the House Mountain yonder, if Mont Blanc, the Lake of 
 Como, and the Great Fall were to be seen from the other side." 
 
 " Do you hear that, Arthur?" said Carry, despairingly, to hei 
 husband, who was reading. 
 
 "No what is it?" 
 
 " This obstinate young lady is about to deprive us of the 
 honour of her company. She is going back to Staunton to- 
 morrow." 
 
 " To the Lunatic Hospital ?" inquired Arthur, putting aside 
 his book. "You are not in earnest, Ida? Are you tired of 
 us j or do you dislike our sketched route ? If the last, we will 
 alter it." 
 
 " And if the first, we will alter ourselves," interposed Carry, 
 laughingly. 
 
 I would have you and your plans remain as they are. I am 
 not well, and require rest not change. My desire to see old 
 Sunnybank is not a caprice, as Carry supposes ; I have had it in 
 contemplation for a long time. Mr. Head deterred me from it 
 by representations of the discomfort I would encounter; the 
 only white man left on the plantation being the overseer. This 
 Bummer he has been removed, and his place given to a former 
 19*
 
 222 ALONE. 
 
 tenant of mother's; a man of family; and the accommodations, 
 which serve for them, will keep me from hardship." 
 
 " She is sick," said Carry, when Ida retired. " She has not 
 been herself lately. Were it not that she is used to dissipation, 
 I should think that the round of parties, after our wedding, over- 
 tasked her strength. Yet, she enjoyed them." 
 
 " Her maladv may be of the mind," said Dr. Dana, thought- 
 fully. " Do you consider this probable ?" 
 
 " Oh, no ! she was well and happy when she came to us; and 
 what can have occurred since to affect her ?" 
 
 " You are right, I dare say;" returned he, absently. He was 
 pondering upon her behaviour after Charley's departure. 
 
 Argument did not dissuade, and conjecture was baffled in the 
 effort to explain this unexpected movement. They parted in 
 Lexington Ida to recross the mountains eastward; they, to 
 travel north by way of Harper's Ferry. 
 
 If there is an enjoyment, which is purely of the intellect, its 
 usurpation is man's high prerogative ; the sticklers for woman's 
 "equal rights" will never establish her title to it. The mind 
 masculine may be nourished and exercised, and attain its full 
 size, while the heart is dwarfed and sickly; as with twin 
 children, one sometimes grows to man's stature, healthy and 
 strong ; and the other pines and dies in childhood. In woman, 
 intellect and the affections are united from their birth ; like 
 the Siamese brothers, one refuses food, which is denied its com- 
 panion ; and who dare peril the life of both by severing the 
 ligament which joins them ? 
 
 Ida's route was through the garden-spot of our State the 
 magnificent Valley, with its heaven-bathed, impregnable eyries, 
 among which our country's Father selected a resting-place 
 for Freedom's standard America's Thermopylae, should the 
 invader's power drive him from every other hold ; where one 
 may travel for days, encircled by the Briarean arms, the sister 
 ridges stretch, in amity, towards each other each rolling its 
 streams and clouds down to the verdant plains between ; where 
 morning and evening, the sun marshals his crimson and gold- 
 colored array upon the purple heights, which are coeval with 
 him and Time ; and flings shadows and hues athwart them, in 
 his day's march, he never vouchsafes to Lowland countries j
 
 ALONE. 223 
 
 and this region was traversed with not a thought beyond a 
 feverish wish to be at her journey's end and rest. She stopped 
 in Richmond but one night. Mr. Read and his daughter were 
 out of town, and she went to a hotel. At dawn she was upon 
 the road, with no attendant but the driver of her hack. Rachel 
 had gone to Sunnybauk a month before, to see her relations, 
 little expecting her mistress to come for her. Ida's spirits and 
 health declined alarmingly, now that the necessity of eluding 
 suspicion was over. She had never been sick a day in her life; 
 but she began to feel that mental ills may be aggravated by 
 bodily disease. The unnatural tension had been maintained too 
 long. When Sunnybank appeared, she was unable to raise her 
 head to look at it. The negroes flocked out at the phenomenon 
 of a travelling carriage in the disused avenue; and loud were 
 their astonishment and compassion, as they recognised its 
 occupant. 
 
 " I have come home to die, mother," said she, as they lifted 
 her out, and fainted in their arms. In the midst of their con- 
 sternation, the family pride of the faithful underlings was 
 stubborn. " Their young mistress should not be carried to the 
 overseer's;" and Aunt Judy, the keeper of the keys, hurried off 
 to unlock the house doors. Ida had a cloudy remembrance of 
 awakening in her mother's chamber, and of a gleaming fancy, 
 that she was once more a child, aroused from a horrid, horrid 
 dream, then her senses forsook her, and there was a wide hiatus 
 in memory. It was night when she awoke again ; she was in 
 the same room; a fire burned in the chimney, and cast fan- 
 tastic shapes upon the ceiling. Crouched in the corner of the 
 fire-place, was a dusky figure, whose audible breathing sounded 
 loudly through the apartment. Her slumbers were not very 
 profound, however, for she sprang up at the fesble call 
 "Rachel!" 
 
 " Miss Ida ! honey! what do you want?" 
 
 " How long have I slept ? my head feels so strange !" 
 
 " That's because you've been sick, honey." 
 
 " What is the matter with me ?" 
 
 Fever, dear you caught it in them dreadful mountains, 
 and have been laid up for four weeks. But you'll git well, now 
 you were out of your head 'most all the time and the doctor 
 says you mustn't talk."
 
 224 ALONE. 
 
 Ida desisted, too weak to disobey. "With vague curiosity, ste 
 followed her with her eyes, as she smoothed the counterpane, 
 pushed up the bed on one side, and patted it down on the other; 
 then she put the "chunks" together upon the hearth, and there 
 was the clinking of spoons and glasses at a table. 
 
 " Here's your drink, Miss Ida," she said, lifting her head 
 with a care that proved her a practised nurse. It was cool and 
 palatable, and the heavy lids sank in natural slumber. 
 
 Mr. Grant (the overseer) and his wife had not been remiss in 
 their duty to the sick girl. She had the best medical attendance 
 the county afforded ; and Mr. Read was written to at the com- 
 mencement of the attack ; the letter was unanswered probably 
 not received. Rachel was " sure Miss Jenny or Miss Carry 
 would come in a minute, if they knew she was sick;" but was 
 ignorant of the address of either. Their nursing might have 
 been more skilful, but it could not have exceeded hers in tender- 
 ness. She took turns with Mrs. Grant in watching, but she 
 never left the room except for her meals. She was amply repaid 
 for her labor of love by the improvement which henceforward 
 was apparent in her patient. Her raptures awoke no responsive 
 harmony in Ida's bosom. 
 
 Her physician was a son of Mr. Hall, the old minister, who 
 had gone to his rest. 
 
 " You must exert yourself, Miss Ida," said he. " Have you 
 walked yet ?" 
 
 "No, sir." 
 
 "Cannot you do it?" 
 
 "I don't know, indeed, sir." 
 
 "But, my dear child, nature cannot do everything; we must 
 aid her. It is as binding upon us to save our own lives, as those 
 of others." 
 
 " When they are worth saving." 
 
 "You want more powerful tonics than any I have;" said the 
 doctor, eyeing her curiously. " I must think your case over. 
 I command you to walk across the room twice to-day, three 
 tLnes to-morrow, and so on. See that she minds me, Rachel !" 
 
 Rachel gave her no peace, until she consented to sit up awhile 
 in the easy-chair, by the window. Sunuybank was sadly changed. 
 Ihe buildings and enclosures were in good repair, and the fields
 
 ALONE. 225 
 
 cultivated ; but the walks and shrubbery were neglected ; and 
 the garden, into which Ida was looking, overgrown with high 
 weeds. Here and there a rose-tree struggled for a foothold, a 
 scanty growth of yellow leaves clinging to the mossy stems ; the 
 sweetbrier still hung over the window, its long, bare arms rat- 
 tling in the cold wind like fleshless bones; the tangled grass in 
 the yard had run to seed, and piles of dead leaves were heaped 
 against the palings. She could not see the grave-yard ; she 
 knew, though, that the willows were leafless, and how the sprays 
 were waving in their melancholy dance, and whispering their old 
 song "Alone!" If alone then, how now? sick dying, per- 
 haps ! where were those who had proudly borne the name of 
 friend ? where the sister, in whose bosom she had lain for 
 months, and eased her sorrows and heightened her joys ? the 
 brother, she had averred, was " all kindness and truth ?" and 
 oh ! where he, who had filled her heart to the brim with the 
 rich, red wine of life, to change, in a moment, to fiery, deadly 
 poison ! She felt no resentment against him ; she was too 
 utterly broken-hearted, she thought, even if she had cause ; and 
 she had not. Her wilful self-deception had been her snare; 
 instead of studying his heart, she had judged it by her own. 
 Were his candor bis undisguised interest in her welfare, tokens 
 of love, that ever seeks concealment? No ! he had tried to lead 
 her, a wayward child, to the paths of happiness; and she had 
 seen nought but the hand which pointed the way. There was 
 prophetic meaning in Lynn's eye, when he spoke of " the finest 
 growth of heart and soul, which you flattered yourself were climb- 
 ing heavenward, twining with strengthening tendrils around the 
 altar of that one love !" She had been impious enough to ima- 
 gine that she was imbibing a fondness for holy things ; her heart 
 had burned within, her, as he talked of the loved theme; she 
 had read the Scriptures, and prayed, in words, for light and 
 guidance. And by the fierce rebellion which fired her breast-- 
 rebellion against hatred of the Being, this lip service had blas- 
 phemed, she knew that she had never bowed in soul to Him; 
 and her heart broken, though she said it was, trusting still 
 adoring still the mortal, through the great love she bore him 
 yet reared itself in angry defiance, saying to the Chastener, " I 
 will not submit "' What had she done, to be left desolate
 
 226 ALONE. 
 
 comfortless in the spring-time of life ! " He is, they tell me, 
 merciful and all-powerful ; let Him give me back my love, and 
 I will believe in Him." And as day by day passed, and there 
 were no tidings of Carry or the Danas, she felt a morose com- 
 placency in the confirmation of her hard thoughts of them, and 
 in repeating, "I am not humbled yet!" 
 
 " Uncle Will wants to know if he can come in to see you, 
 Miss Ida," said Rachel, one Sabbath afternoon. 
 
 Ida was dressed, and rocking herself listlessly before the fire. 
 " Let him come," she replied, languidly. 
 
 This man was her mother's steward and factotum; a hale, 
 fine-looking negro; better educated than the generality of hia 
 caste, and devotedly pious. He brushed off a tear with the 
 back of his hand, as his mistress greeted him. He had not- 
 seen her since she was grown, and was moved by her likeness to 
 her mother. 
 
 " You would not have known me, would you, uncle Will ?" 
 she asked. 
 
 "Yes ma'am; you are your mother's own child." 
 
 " Indeed ! I am called like my father." 
 
 " You're like her, ma'am in body, and like her in spirit, too 
 I hope." 
 
 "No, Uncle Will, you cannot expect that; ehe was an. 
 angel." 
 
 " Better than that, Mistis she was a Christian !" 
 
 " And how is that better ?" said Ida, surprised at the reply. 
 " She is an angel now is she not ?" 
 
 " No ma'am ; she is one of the spirits of the just made perfect ; 
 and according to my notion, that's better than to be a born 
 seraph. Angels may praise and glorify the Lamb, but they 
 haven't so much to be thankful for as we." 
 
 " I do not understand you. They have been happy from all 
 Eternity; and those who have lived in this world, have had 
 sorrow and pain and sin < mourning all their days.' " 
 
 "They needn't, ma'am 
 
 'Why should the children of a King 
 Go mourning all their days?' " 
 
 said Will readily " He holds us up under whatever trouble we 
 have ; unless we bring it upon ourselves by our transgressions,
 
 A L O N E . 227 
 
 and He will deliver us then, if we call to Him. Thi; Saviour 
 is the Christian's glory and song He didn't die for angels." 
 
 Ida mused. " There is a question I wish to ask you," said 
 she. " God can do as He pleases; can He not?" 
 
 " Certainly, Mistis ' He worketh according to the counsel 
 of His own will.' " 
 
 " And He is very pitiful and gracious ?" she continued. 
 
 "Like as a father pitieth his children, Mistis." 
 
 " Then when He knows that we are miserable and sinful and 
 helpless, why does not He take pity on us, and make us good 
 and happy ?" 
 
 " He will, ma'am." 
 
 " But He does not. He only waits for us to love anything, 
 before He robs us of it. So far from liking to see us happy, it 
 would seem that He grudged us the poor crumbs we picked up 
 of ourselves." 
 
 " Because they ain't good for us, Mistis." 
 
 " Why did He allow us to take them, then ? why wait, until 
 we have tasted and found them sweet, before He snatches them 
 away ?" 
 
 " I remember, Mistis, when you were a little thing, no higher 
 than my knee, you were mightily taken with some red peppers 
 growing in the garden. Your mother called you away from the 
 bed, four or five times, and ordered you not to touch them. By 
 and by I spied you running down the walk towards them, when 
 you thought she didn't see you ; and I was starting in a hurry 
 to fetch you back, but she stopped me. ' No, Will !' says she, 
 1 the punishment sin brings with it, is remembered longer than 
 a hundred warnings. She will have a useful lesson.' I was 
 loath to have you hurt; but I had to mind her. Your lesson 
 was right hard ; for your mouth and face and hands were swelled 
 and burning for hours. But you didn't go near the pepper-bed 
 again. And it seems to me, ma'am, that the Almighty treats 
 us just so. We run crazy after things, that are like the red 
 peppers, pretty outside, but hot as fire when we get to playiug 
 with them. He doesn't push us towards them EG lets us alone ; 
 and we are mighty apt to run to Him, after we've got a fair taste. 
 You didn't know but your mother would whip you for disobey- 
 ing her; butyouwei.t straight to her when you felt the smart"
 
 228 ALONE. 
 
 " This does not follow, of course, uncle Will. I have tasted 
 some hot peppers since those days; and I cannot see any mercy 
 or use in the lesson." 
 
 "Maybe you haven't asked an explanation, ma'am.'* 
 
 " From whom ? from you ?" 
 
 " No ma'am ! From Him, unto whom belong the deep things 
 of the Almighty. And if He doesn't show you their meaning 
 now He will, sometime. Children are often puzzled at their 
 parents' dealings." 
 
 As he was leaving, she observed his wistful look. 
 
 " Have you any requests to make, uncle Will ? you will not 
 ask anything unreasonable, I know." 
 
 " I hope riot, ma'am. You see we've been in the habit of 
 holding our Sunday night prayer-meetings in the basement-room, 
 under this. We used to meet there in your mother's time. She 
 had the room fixed on purpose for us. When it's clear weather, 
 in summer, we meet out-doors; it's getting- cool now " 
 
 "And you are afraid of disturbing me ; is that it ?" 
 
 "Yes ma'am," said he, relieved. 
 
 " You may be quite easy as regards that. Has that room 
 been ceiled yet ?" 
 
 " No ma'am 'twould have been if you all had stayed 
 here." 
 
 "I am glad that it is not. I can hear your hymns how I 
 used to love those old tunes ! Have your meeting. I wish I 
 had no other disturbance !" 
 
 He had got into the entry, when she recalled him ; and with 
 the sad smile she had worn during their conversation, said, 
 "Uncle Will ! if you think I have not done hankering after for- 
 bidden fruit, you may pray, that I may be cured." 
 
 " I will, Mistis ! God bless you !" 
 
 She had forgotten, and Will did not know, that all the services 
 could be heard through the floor. The worshippers assembled 
 so quietly, that she was not aware of this, until Will's tones 
 startled her with the idea that he was in the room. He com- 
 menced the exercises by reading the fourteenth chapter of John's 
 gospel. " Let not your hearts be troubled ; ye believe in God, 
 believe also in me." He offered neither comment nor explana- 
 tion. He was a believer iu what ho called " the pure Word;"
 
 ALONE. 229 
 
 " if I can't comprehend one part," he was wont to say, " I com- 
 fort myself by thinking that there is so much that is plain even 
 to my weak understanding." The quavering voice of an aged 
 man led in prayer; and in spite of its verbiage and incorrect 
 grama-.ar, Ida listened, for it was sincere. They sang in the 
 sweet voices for which the race is so remarkable, 
 
 " There is a lanl of pure delight," 
 
 with a wild, beautiful chorus, repeated each time with more 
 emphasis and fervor 
 
 " Oh sing to me of Heaven ! 
 In Heaven alone, no sin is known, 
 And there's no parting there !" 
 
 Ida shut her eyes and lay motionless, lest she should lose a 
 note. Forgetful of her unholy enmity to her God her distrust 
 of her kind borne upon the melody her soul arose to Pisgah's 
 top, and looked yearningly upon the "sweet fields beyond the 
 swelling flood," heard the jubilant song of the redeemed 
 
 " In Heaven alone, no sin is known, 
 And there's no parting there !" 
 
 A solemn hush followed; and Will said, "Let us pray." 
 His deliberate accents quickened into animation, with the unfold- 
 ing of his petitions; spurning the fetters of his imperfect speech, 
 his thoughts clothed themselves in the language of the Divine 
 Word; coming to a King, he adopted unconsciously the ver- 
 nacular of princes. In speaking of Ida, his manner was ear- 
 nestly affectionate. "We beseech Thee, Father, to deal 
 gently with thine handmaid, whom thou hast set over us in 
 worldly things. Thou hast seen fit that she should bear the 
 yoke in her youth, hast made her to possess wearisome nights, 
 ^nd days of vanity ; hast mingled her bread with tears, and her 
 drink with weeping ; Thou hast taken from her father and 
 mother, the hope of her soul, and the desire of her eyes; it is 
 the Lord's doings, and it is marvellous in our eyes and in hers. 
 Lighten her eyes, Our Father ! though weeping has endured for 
 a night. Thou hast promised that joy shall come in the morning; 
 tell her, that no affliction for the present seemeth joyous, but 
 grievous; but that Thou wilt make it work out for her an eternal 
 weight of glory ; that whom Thou lovest Thou chasteneth, and 
 20
 
 230 ALONE. 
 
 upon Thy Blessed Son Thou didst lay the afflictions and ini- 
 quities of us all. May her hungry soul run to Him, from the 
 far country in which she has been living, and may He heal her 
 broken bones, give her the oil of gladness for mourning the 
 garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness." 
 
 The hot, dry channel was broken up, and tears flowed in plen- 
 teous measure. From the softening soul sprang her first real 
 prayer. " Oh ! be my Father and Comforter I" 
 
 When Rachel awoke in the morning, she saw that her mis- 
 tress had unbarred the shutters of the window by her bed, and 
 was reading. Her face had a still deeper shade of gloom ; but 
 the attached girl drew a favorable augury from this mark of 
 interest in anything, except her own thoughts. The book was a 
 mother's gift a Bible; she had read it with tolerable regularity 
 for the giver's sake, but she found herself now lamentably igno- 
 rant of its contents. She read of the unapproachable purity of 
 the Immaculate, of judgment and justice; denunciation of the 
 wicked, and the "fearful looking for of vengeance" that remained 
 to rebellious children ; in vain she searched it for a message to 
 her a promise she could apply. Her alarm augmented, as the 
 fruitlessness of her endeavors became apparent. The life she 
 had lightly esteemed was inestimably dear, as she realised what 
 eternity was ; and her heart was still with fear at the thought 
 of the uncertain tenure by which she held it. In times past she 
 would have blushed at these shakings of spirit; now she could 
 not banish them. She would not be left alone an instant ; she 
 was afraid to sleep, lest she should not awake in time. She had 
 said, what evil have I done ?" she saw now that she had com- 
 mitted evil, and that continually ; as she beheld " idolatry, 
 hatred, variance, emulation, wrath, envyings" in the same enu- 
 meration with monstrous vices a catalogue which brings to 
 our ears the warring clash of Pandemonium, rendered more hor- 
 ribly discordant by contrast with the gentle music of " Love, joy, 
 peace, long-suffering." 
 
 In angry despair she threw the volume aside ; but tortured 
 conscience drove her to it again. " I will be a Christian," was 
 her primal resolve, as the terrors of the law flamed before her 
 " I must be !" and a week of labor and agony ended in a total 
 sinking of hope, and an exhausted cry, " I cannot !"
 
 ALONE. 231 
 
 It was a calm Sabbath in the Indian Summer, and her chair 
 was wheeled to the door. The " summer's late, repentant smile" 
 shone fondly upon the landscape; the russet fields, the dis- 
 mantled forests, the swift-rolling river. 
 
 She had seen it look just so, often; when the breeze played 
 among the child's curls, and lent a quicker bound to a light 
 heart but faded in body prematurely old in spirit she saw 
 no beauty in earth had no treasure in heaven. Her Bible was 
 upon her knees ; she turned the pages indolently, and was say- 
 ing, for the hundredth time, " No hope !" when a passage 
 appeared to start up from the page. Could it have been there 
 while she sought it carefully and with tears? "The Lord hath 
 called thee as a woman, forsaken and grieved in spirit ; and as a 
 wife of youth, when thou wast refused, saith my God. For a 
 small moment have I forsaken thee, but with great mercies will 
 I gather thee ; in a little wrath I hid my face from thee for a 
 moment, but with everlasting kindness will I have mercy upon 
 thee, saith the Lord, thy Redeemer. * * * * Oh ! thou 
 afflicted, tossed with tempests, and not comforted ! behold, I will 
 lay thy stones with fair colors, and lay thy foundations with 
 sapphires !" 
 
 As Will passed under the window on his way to Church, he 
 was arrested by an unusual sound. No one was visible, but hia 
 heart and eyes ran over, as he recognised the voice that sang 
 softly 
 
 "Other refuge have I none, 
 
 Hangs my helpless soul on Thee; 
 Leave, oh ! leave me not alone, 
 
 Still support and comfort me. 
 All my trust on Thee is stayed, 
 
 All my help from Thee I bring; 
 Cover my defenceless head 
 
 With the shadow of Thy wing."
 
 ALONE . 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 THE trembling \vliich mingled with her transport, was so 
 foreign to Ida's ardent temperament, that she doubted sometimes, 
 if she had indeed found peace. But as her filial love and trust 
 strengthened with time, she rejoiced with more hope. Much of 
 the old leaven was left; her imperious temper still chafed at 
 restraint, and she was disheartened at the discovery, that the 
 loveliest of the " Blessed Three" graces was most difficult to 
 practise. She leaned upon a Saviour's arm, and was willing to 
 walk in the ways of His appointment, but the weak heart pleaded 
 that He would not send her back into the world. Sweet Sunny- 
 bank, rich in associations ; with its peaceful duties and holy 
 enjoyments, must be more favorable to the advancement of her 
 new life ; she hoped against hope, that she might be permitted 
 to remain. A letter from her guardian settled the point. With 
 laconic terseness, he declared the thing " impossible. By her 
 father's will, the estate was hers, when she was of age ; until 
 then, no preparatory step could be taken." Her scheme had 
 been to invite a sister of Mrs. Grant, an excellent woman, now 
 dependent upon her brother-in-law, to reside with her, in the 
 capacity of housekeeper and companion ; and leaving the control 
 of her finances in Mr. Read's hands, to devote herself to the 
 improvement of her servants and poor neighbors. It was a praise- 
 worthy enterprise, and it cost her a sharp pang to resign it, and 
 prepare for the return, her guardian pressed, " as_ desirable and 
 proper." Her trunks were packed ; and she had come in from 
 a tour of the negro cabins, and a visit to her mother's grave, to 
 spend the last twilight in the room in which she was born in 
 which her mother had died. The November blast howled in 
 the chimney ; here it was the music of early days j in Rich- 
 mond, it would be so dreary ! 
 
 She was not gloomy, although the firelight glistened upon 
 cheeks wet with tears ; she was not going away, as she had 
 coine alone j still she was sad at quitting her retreat, and in the 
 prospect of the temptations awaiting her. There would be trials,
 
 ALONE. 233 
 
 too trials of faith and patience and charity and trials of feel- 
 ing what if she should be found wanting ! But a whisper 
 tranquilised her " Fear not / am with thee !" Mrs. Grant 
 opened the door. She held a lamp whose rays blinded Ida's 
 tender eyes. 
 
 " A gentleman to see you, Miss Ida, and as there was no 
 fire in the drawing-room, I've asked him into the dining-room ;" 
 announced the dame, who was remarkable rather for sterling 
 goodness, than for grace and discretion. The door of communi- 
 cation was wide open, and Ida had no alternative but to walk 
 directly into the adjoining apartment. Charley Dana met her, 
 ere she had advanced three steps beyond the doorway. He was 
 so shocked at her altered appearance that he could not speak at 
 once, but stood, pressing her hands in his, and gazing into her 
 face with inexpressible solicitude and tenderness. She must 
 make an exertion. 
 
 " This is kind, Charley ! Am I to flatter myself that you 
 have turned out of your way to see me ?" 
 
 " No. I have looked neither to the right nor to the left. I 
 came by the most direct route from Richmond. Sit down you 
 are not able to stand and give an account of yourself. What 
 in the name of all that is ridiculous and outrageous, brought 
 you here alone, and has kept you here until the middle of the 
 winter?" 
 
 " Not so bad as that, Charley ! It is only the last month of 
 Autumn. I came, because I did not want to go North, and was 
 pining for a sight of the old place ; and have been sick ever 
 since. But tell me of yourself. When did you return, and 
 why have not you written to me?" 
 
 " That is what I call ' iced ! ' said Charley, with a laugh that 
 sounded like former times. " Haven't I sent letters to every 
 post-office in the Union, and not received a line in answer, since 
 you parted company with Arthur and Carry ? I arrived at, 
 home, ten days ago. Mr. Read <presumed' you were <yet in 
 the country, and would be back when you were ready :' Juhn 
 and Jenny were in the dark; had written and inquired to no 
 purpose: daily dispatches were pouring in from Arthur, certify- 
 ing that Carry was nearly deranged with anxiety. Yesterday, I 
 20*
 
 234 ALONE. 
 
 met Mr. Read, who told me you had been 'indisposed/ but would 
 be down shortly. I asked your address, and here I am !" 
 
 "You could not be more welcome anywhere) but how unac- 
 countable that your letters miscarried !" 
 
 " Easily explained ! I stopped down the road, at a house, 
 half-tavern, half-store, where I espied < Post Office/ painted upon 
 a shingle, hung out of a dirty window ; and inquired the name 
 of the place. ' Thompsonburg/ said the P. M. ' Burg,' indeed ! 
 'I thought there was an office in this neighbourhood, called ' Oak- 
 land ;' " said I. 
 
 " < Oh ! that's discontinued more than a year ago;' answered 
 he. ' 'Twas at the Cross-roads below.' " 
 
 Simple solution of a mystery which had led her to doubt her 
 best earthly friends! Charley looked at her intently. 
 
 " 'Indisposition/ forsooth ! Why, I'll be hanged " 
 
 " No you wont, Charley ! Don't say so." 
 
 " Shot, then ! if I am sure that I am not talking to a spirit ! 
 You've been to Death's door. What made you sick?" 
 
 " Oh ! a variety of causes." 
 
 " Which means, it's no business of mine to inquire. All I 
 have to say is, that your friends would not have treated you, as 
 you have them. If I had died in Missouri, I would have left 
 ' good-bye/ and a lock of my hair for you. You might have 
 departed this life twenty times, and we been none the wiser." 
 
 " How quarrelsome you are ! I'll never do so again, if you'll 
 forgive me this once." 
 
 " Forgive ! I have nothing to forgive you were privileged 
 to do as you pleased; only, if you had said adieu to the land 
 of the living, it would have been a gratification to us to know it." 
 
 Ida laughed out so merrily that Mrs. Grant, who was super- 
 intending the setting of the tea-table, raised her spectacles to 
 look at her, and smiled gratifiedly. She and her husband sat at 
 the table, and the guest's " sociable ways" ingratiated him with 
 them, before the meal was half over. They retired with tbc 
 waiters, and Charley, dropping his bantering tone, established 
 himself for a "quiet coze." It was strange that he should be 
 the first confidant of Ida's change of heart; he, whom men 
 styled careless sometimes " scoffer." 
 
 He did not scoff now ; he paid diligent heed to her recital,
 
 ALONE. 235 
 
 and when it was finished " From my soul, I congratulate you !" 
 he exclaimed. " Would to Heaven, that I too believed !" 
 
 " You may ;" said Ida, timidly. 
 
 "You do not know the thickness of the crust around my heart, 
 Ida ; the unbelief, and ingratitude and worldliness. I can battle 
 with men, and wear a bravado mask ; but I do not forget that I 
 have a soul, and that it must be attended to. Whether I will 
 ever do it, I cannot say. I think I must be the most hardened 
 of sinners; Lynn's death would have subdued a less obdurate 
 heart; and do you know that, while thoroughly persuaded that 
 it was a judgment aimed full at me for he was my dearest 
 friend, and I felt his loss, most of all who mourned him I 
 hated the Power which had dealt the blow, and scorned angrily 
 the presumption, that I could be forced into measures!" 
 
 " You were not more wicked than I was. There is not a truer 
 sentence in the Bible, than that the 'carnal mind is enmity against 
 God.' Ah ! Charley ! if we loved holy things more ! It is so 
 mortifying to find our thoughts straying away from these sub- 
 jects, when we are most desirous of contemplating them !" 
 
 That is the fault of Old Adam the < body of death/ Paul 
 writes of;" replied he. " I am not much of a .Bible scholar, but 
 it strikes me he says something in the next verse of a Deliverer, 
 1 who giveth us the victory.' Why are Christians ever low-spirited, 
 I wonder." 
 
 And poor Ida upbraided herself with the same query, many 
 times within the next few days. She bore the partings and the 
 journey better than Charley had feared she would. He did his 
 best to save her pain and fatigue, but he saw, with secret reve- 
 rence, that she was supported by a stronger Friend. 
 
 " We are almost there !" said he, letting down the carriage- 
 window, upon the afternoon of their second day's travel. 
 
 Ida leaned out, and beheld the spires and roofs of the city. 
 She was unprepared for the effect the sight had upon her. Recol- 
 lections of her years of loneliness ; the trials of her home-life ; 
 the one friendship of her school days; a brother's fondness, and 
 his doom; her love and its blight rushed upon her with over- 
 whelming force she fell back upon the cushions, and wept aloud. 
 She had not entirely recovered her composure, when they stopped 
 at Mr. Read's door, Josephine hardly knew the wasted figure,
 
 236 ALONE. 
 
 Charley carried, rather than led into the house ; and Mr. Read 
 was, for once, shocked out of his dignity. 
 
 " Why ! Mr. Dana ! Miss Ida ! bless my soul and body !" was 
 Lis ^characteristic exclamation. 
 
 Charley was in no humour for trifling, or he would have said, 
 "Amen !" 
 
 " Miss Ida's indisposition was not so unimportant as you sup- 
 posed, you see, sir;" said he sarcastically. "Thanks to the 
 kind attentions of her country friends, she is now convalescent." 
 
 " Hush, Charley ! please!" said a distressed whisper from the 
 sofa, where he had laid her. "Mr. Grant wrote to you, Mr. 
 Read ;" said she, aloud ; " but as you were travelling, we doubted 
 whether you received the letter." 
 
 "I did not;" he answered, the flush going off from his brow. 
 
 " I was so carefully nursed, I did not require other attention;" 
 she continued. "I should have regretted it, if your summer's 
 enjoyment had been interrupted needlessly. Dr. Hall, and Mr. 
 and Mrs. Grant were untiring in their kindness; and Rachel 
 here, ought to have a diploma to practice medicine.'' 
 
 It was a maxim with Mr. Read, that for every mischance, 
 blame must rest somewhere; and Ida, having exculpated him, 
 he could not do less than return the compliment, by pitching it 
 back upon her. 
 
 " I do not presume to lecture you, Miss Ross ; but you will 
 admit that this freak of yours was one of unsurpassed impru- 
 dence. You left my roof under the protection of those, whom I 
 considered fit guardians for a young lady." Charley made a 
 movement to speak; but Ida's imploring glance restrained him. 
 " I hear nothing of you for a long time ; and you write, at last, 
 from an uninhabited country-house, begging permission to take 
 up your abode there. I refuse the preposterous request, and you 
 are brought home reduced and weakened by a severe illness, of 
 which I have not been informed. I cannot be responsible for 
 what the world will say to all this, Miss Ross!" 
 
 The rack could not have silenced Charley now. " I will tell 
 you what the world's opinion is, sir ; and hold you responsible 
 for your own words. ' The world' has said, in my hearing, that 
 the guardian, who loses sight of a ward a member of his family 
 for six months, without being apprised of, or inquiring into
 
 ALONE. 237 
 
 her locality and welfare, is unworthy of his trust. And if I 
 describe his reception of an invalid, who might have perished 
 through neglect, for all he knew or cared ' the world,' sir, will 
 declare indignantly, that he is a disgrace to society and man- 
 kind ! I have nothing more to say at present. If you take 
 exception to my liberty of speech, you can call on me, and relieve 
 your mind. Miss Ida, let me recommend to you to retire ; Mr. 
 Read will finish his lecture to me good afternoon, Miss Read. 
 Sir, I have the honor to bid you good-day !" 
 
 Josephine burst forth with a torrent of invective : which Ida 
 did not stay to hear; nor did she see either of them again for 
 two days. She was not well enough to go below ; and they 
 avoided her chamber. 
 
 Mrs. Dana called that evening. Ida was preparing for bed; 
 and she supplanted Rachel as maid and nurse. Her softest, 
 most nimble of hands undressed the tired, dispirited girl ; 
 smoothed the pillows; and gave her a composing draught; and 
 with her kiss warm upon her lips, her pitying eyes watching 
 over her, and a prayer of thankfulness at her heart, Ida fell 
 asleep. 
 
 She learned to expect a daily visit from this dear friend ; and 
 rarely looked in vain. At her third coming she brought a note 
 from Charley. "He was happy to state;" he said; " that the 
 skirmish which had excited her uneasiness, had arrived at a 
 bloodless issue. Mr. Read and himself had had an interview ; 
 he had apologised for using language to him, in his own house, 
 which he considered himself justifiable in employing anywhere 
 else; and Mr. Read excused his harshness to her, by represent- 
 ing the excitement of surprise and alarm, under which he was 
 laboring at the time. It was agreed the matter should stop 
 there that is;" wrote Charley; " that his bugbear, the world, 
 shall not get hold of it." 
 
 Josephine had received her orders; for she carried her work 
 into Ida's chamber, that day, and sat one hour, to a minute, 
 never opening her lips, save in monosyllables to the questions 
 Ida forced herself to ask. Abandoning seclusion so soon as she 
 had sufficient strength, the latter joined the family at meals, and 
 remained longer in their society than she was wont to do for- 
 merly ; and if her hope of eventually conquering their dislike
 
 238 ALONE. 
 
 did not increase, her meekness and patience did. She had occa- 
 sion for it all. Josephine was quick to discover that she was 
 happier in her affliction and debility, than she was in health and 
 prosperity; and when the truth came to light, her natural 
 malignity to the cause, and her hatred of its humble professor 
 triumphed in the fiendish anticipation of how she could, by 
 deriding one, wound the other. She would have descried soil 
 upon an angel's robe. Ida was a young Christian, contending 
 with the manifold disadvantages of temper, habit and irreligious 
 associates; and her wily assailant was not passive long for lack 
 of weapons and opportunity for her warfare. Any symptom of 
 a convalescent's irritability ; the utterance of a taste or opinion, 
 which did not tally with her standard of consistency, was marked 
 and laid by for use ; and no complaisance or concession on Ida's 
 part, moved her purpose. Mr. Read paid his pew-rent, went to 
 church once every fine Sunday, and had a pleasant impression 
 that by so doing, he was "keeping along;" paying interest as 
 it were, upon the debt, sanguine that when the distant pay-day 
 arrived, he would be able, by one prodigious effort, to discharge 
 the principal. He " hated cant, because it was silly and use- 
 less ;" and if he did not chime in his daughter's slurs upon reli- 
 gion, and the conduct of Christians, he never rebuked her by 
 word or sign. Watchfully, prayerfully, Ida strove to keep her 
 feet in the path, and by no misstep or fall, to cast obloquy upon 
 the name she loved. 
 
 Anna Talbot, a friendly, good-natured girl her brother's 
 superior in sense and feeling, was a near neighbor ; and she ran 
 in directly after breakfast one morning, full of a ball to which 
 she was invited. Josephine had a ticket also, and was wishing 
 for her she must consult her about her dress. 
 
 " Ma has bought me a lovely white silk," said Anna. '' I 
 am to wear sprigged illusion over it but oh ! I was so disap- 
 pointed! I wanted silver-sprigged, you know, like that Miss 
 What's-her-name, from Philadelphia, wore to Mrs. Porter's 
 party but although I ransacked every store in the city, I could 
 not find a piece. What will you get, Josey ?" 
 
 I have not quite determined." 
 
 Do let us dress alike ! There is another pattern of silk at 
 P V
 
 ALONE. 239 
 
 "Well! I will look at it. What head-dress?" inquired 
 Josephine. 
 
 " Oh ! that's another novelty ! I saw two darling little loves 
 of wreaths down town rose-buds and lilies-of-the-valley pure 
 
 white. I asked Mrs. V to lay them aside until to-day. I 
 
 thought of you. 
 
 The " darling little loves" were pronounced aufait. 
 
 " What ornaments?" said Josephine, who was in her element. 
 
 Anna made a gesture of despair. "There's the trouble! I 
 have nothing but those rubies, and they will not do at all. I 
 dislike to go without any ; but it cannot be helped." 
 
 "Pearls would correspond well with your dress/' observed 
 Ida. 
 
 " Ah, yes ! my dear ! and if I had a pearl fishery, I would 
 draw upon my divers forthwith ; unfortunately I have not." 
 
 " Are you certain ?" returned Ida, smiling. " Imagine me a 
 diver. I have a neat set, which is at your service, if you will 
 honor me by wearing it." 
 
 " Oh ! you dearest of girls !" exclaimed Anna. " But you 
 want them yourself I beg your pardon I forgot you were in 
 mourning ; but your black is not too deep for ornaments." 
 
 " But her odor of sanctity is too strong," said Josephine. 
 " She has renounced the pomps and vanities you and I love, 
 Anna, and 'put on the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit.' 
 How do you reconcile it with your conscience, to let your pearls 
 attend a ball, Ida? How much scouring and praying will cleanse 
 them again for your use ?" 
 
 " Oh ! I will get you or Anna to air them for me, once in a 
 while, and trust to time to purify them," said Ida, willing to 
 pass it off as a joke. 
 
 "Do you really think it sinful to go to balls?" asked Anna, 
 wonderingly. 
 
 " I could not do it innocently," replied Ida. 
 
 " Why not ? you used to like them as well as the rest of us." 
 
 " For pity's sake ! no sermonising !" rudely interrupted Jose- 
 phine. " I can show you the root of her piety in two worda. 
 Don't you remember a certain gentleman, whose handsome face 
 and saintly smile set off his religion so well ?" 
 
 "Oh!" laughed Anna; "but I thought he liked her very 
 well as she was "
 
 240 ALONE. 
 
 " Nothing like making assurance doubly sure !" answered the 
 other. " Pity he did not return to town this winter. Love's 
 labor is lost." 
 
 "Why, Ida! what a flirt you are !" cried Anna. "When 
 everybody says you are engaged to Mr. Dana !" 
 
 " Everybody is wrong, then," said Ida, calmly. 
 
 " Everybody is riyht!" contradicted Josephine. " She reads 
 in her Bible, that she < must love all men ;' and her being in 
 mourning for one beau, and dying with love for another, are no 
 impediments to her engagement with a third. This is Pla- 
 tonism with a vengeance." 
 
 " Fie ! Josephine !" said Anna, perceiving by Ida's face, that 
 the pleasantry, as she still thought it, was going too far. " You 
 know, as well as I do, that Mr. Holmes was only a friend. Mrs. 
 Dana is in black for him too it is as reasonable to say that she 
 was in love with him." 
 
 " She may have been, for anything I know to the contrary;" 
 retorted Josephine, growing more and more insolent. " I don't 
 pretend to understand the morals of < the clique.' " 
 
 " I am going up stairs, Anna," said Ida, " and will send you 
 the pearls. If they please you, you are welcome to them, when- 
 ever you wish them." 
 
 Anna pulled her down. " Don't go ! I want to talk with you. 
 You must not regard Josephine's nonsense it is only a foolish 
 jest." 
 
 " One, which must not be repeated !" said Ida. " I may not 
 notice an insult to myself, but if my friends are slandered, I 
 irust defend them." 
 
 " Defend them, as long and loud as you choose ;" replied 
 Josephine, retaining her disagreeable smile and tone. " Recrimi- 
 nate too, if you like. It is but politic in you to fight for your 
 patrons. Aha ! that flash of the eye was Christian-like ! Did 
 you never observe, Anna, that when the ' brethren' are wrought 
 up to the belligerent point, they are the fiercest of combatants ?" 
 
 Ida hurried up stairs threw herself upon the bed, and cried 
 bitterly; unobservant of Eachel's presence. 
 
 " Oh ! Father ! pity me ! I am so weak and wicked !" she 
 prayed. 
 
 Rachel went out boiling with rage.
 
 ALONE. 241 
 
 " More of that Evil's work ! Hope I may be forgiven for 
 Baying sech a word, but if she didn't come from the bottomless 
 ditch, I should jist like to be re-formed whar she was made ! I 
 know mighty well whar she'll go. I ain't a goin' to stand it! 
 Miss Ida shan't be terrified forever and ever. I'll speak my 
 tnind to Miss Jenny, before I'm a day older; maybe Mars' John 
 can get her away from this dreadful place. Miss Ida'd never 
 forgive me ; but she needn't know nothin' about my tellin' !" 
 
 " Miss Jenny" heard her with indignant astonishment ; but 
 giving her no encouragement to proceed with her tale, or to hope 
 for an amelioration of her mistress' condition, merely said she 
 was sorry she could do nothing for her; and advised her to 
 imitate Ida's prudence and silence ; counsel which confirmed 
 Rachel's skepticism in " white folks' friendship." Ida thought 
 Cha-rley kinder than ever, that evening. If he had known the 
 severity of her day's discipline, he could not have been more 
 tender and consolatory. His inattention to Josephine, who also 
 had visitors, troubled her somewhat; but she had the comforting 
 reflection that she was not to blame for it. The day of the ball, 
 he took her and Mrs. Dana to ride. They called at the residence 
 of a country friend, to whose green-house Charley had the entree; 
 and he improved his privilege by culling a bouquet of Camelias, 
 tea-roses and orange blossoms "for the belle of the ball;" he told 
 his hostess. When they were again in the carriage, he handed 
 them to Ida, with a laugh. " I have no idea of going to the 
 ball, and you would be the belle, if you were to attend ; so there 
 was no fibbing, was there ?" The flowers were beautiful, and at 
 this season, very rare; and Ida bore them home carefully, and 
 put them in water in her room. They were sweet company; she 
 could only watch, and pet, and talk to them the rest of the day. 
 
 Mr. Read was uncommonly jocose at supper time. 
 
 " Make yourself pretty, Josey," said he, lighting his lamp; 
 " you don't have me to escort you every evening." 
 
 Josephine looked after him with a sneer. " A mighty honor ! 
 If he had a spark of generosity or politeness, he would have 
 bought me a bouquet, if they do ask such enormous prices. I 
 have a good mind not to go, I shall feel so mean without one." 
 
 Ida said she regretted it; and she did feel for her. She knew, 
 that to party-goers, these little things are no trifles; she had 
 21
 
 242 ALONE. 
 
 seen a girl dull or sulky for an entire evening, because of a 
 deficiency of this sort. 
 
 " I wish I could help her," she was saying to herself, as she 
 returned to her apartment. The aroma that stole upon her senses 
 said, "you can." She was no heroine, for she stood over her 
 flowers, and doubted and pondered for a good half hour, before 
 her wavering mind rested upon its pivot; and then a tear bedewed 
 a Camelia's spotless bosom, as she emptied the vase, and saying 
 aloud, "If thine enemy thirst, give him drink," set about arrang- 
 ing them anew. Her Christmas rose-tree was hanging with buds, 
 which, on the morrow, would be blossoms, but she despoiled it of 
 its nodding pearls; and adding geraniums and citronaloes, com- 
 pleted as tasteful a bouquet, as ever bloomed under the fingers 
 of a fashionable florist. 
 
 She gave it to Josephine, when she came into the parlor to 
 survey her full-length figure in the tall glass. 
 
 " Oh ! how lovely !" she exclaimed involuntarily ; then 
 recovering herself, said coldly, "They are pretty;" and returned 
 them. 
 
 " They are for you," said Ida. 
 
 " Who sent them ?" 
 
 " They were presented to me ; and as their beauty is wasted 
 upon the < desert air* of my chamber, I shall be obliged to you 
 to display them." 
 
 Josephine would have rejected the generous offer, if there had 
 been the remotest chance of another ; but it was late, and she 
 could not go bouquetless. 
 
 " Who gave them to you ?" she asked. 
 
 Ida paused, then replied, " Mr. Dana." 
 
 " He will know them ; I had rather go without any." 
 
 " No danger of that ! he will not be there." Her patience 
 was nearly spent. Josephine accepted the gift with a very bad 
 grace ; she was awkward and embarrassed, and what appears 
 more improbable, a little ashamed. Mr. Head was attired with 
 scrupulous neatness and elegance, and looked ten years younger 
 than he really was. Ida " presumed" to tell him so, and was 
 recompensed by a bland smile. She had done her duty, per- 
 haps more, and she did not repent of her self-denial; but some- 
 thing of the desolate feeling of " lang-syne" fell upon her, as
 
 ALONE. 243 
 
 she was left, sole tenant of the parlor and the house. Weak 
 and weary, she sighed for human society and affection. It was 
 a darkened hour ; clouded by self-doubtings, mournful memories 
 and forebodings. The piano was open ; she had not touched it 
 since her arrival at home; but she went to it now; only plaintive 
 tunes came to her fingers ; she played fitfully, as her mood dis- 
 posed her; the music was the voice of her thoughts; and she 
 sang to a rambling, irregular measure 
 
 " I am alone the last light tread 
 
 And laugh have died upon my ear; 
 And I may weep unchecked nor dread 
 
 The scorn, that forces back the tear. 
 I turn to Thee ! oh ! when the strings, 
 
 The trustful heart has fondly thrown, 
 Wound closely round its best-loved things- 
 Are, by one stroke, asunder torn, 
 And bleeding, crushed, uncared for, lie^ 
 
 When Hope's gay smile no joy can throw, 
 And the soul breathes but one wish to die! 
 
 To whom else can the suffering go? 
 Thou Thou dost look within, and read 
 
 How I have sought for love, and found 
 Reproach instead how in its need 
 
 My spirit bowed it to the ground, 
 E'en to the dust and deemed it nought 
 
 Bore patiently, when pained and wronged 
 And smiled on sorrow, if it brought 
 
 The priceless boon for which it longed. 
 In vain ! in vain ! and now I come 
 
 As to her nest the dove doth flee; 
 Give Thou my wandering heart a home 
 
 And bind its shattered chords to Thee !" 
 
 " My poor child ! are you then so sad ?" 
 
 She knew the hand upon her drooping head before he spoke ; 
 and with a prayer for support, that calmed her fluttering heart, 
 arose to greet him. 
 
 " Am I forgiven for my intrusion ?" said he, leading her to a 
 chair. " The front door was ajar, and hearing your music, I 
 entered without ringing." 
 
 " Freely pardoned ! Have you been in town long 7" 
 
 " Since five o'clock this afternoon. I am on my way to the 
 south with Annie. She is ordered to winter in Florida. Go 
 with us will you not ? Charley supped with us ; and Annie 
 proposed this plan on hearing of your feeble health. She will 
 wait until you are ready if you comply."
 
 244 ALONE. 
 
 " I am very grateful for her kindness ; but I cannot avail 
 myself of it." 
 
 "Are there any 'propriety scruples?'" inquired he, smiling. 
 "You will be her companion; and the most fastidious cannot 
 object to the escort of a brother, and an engaged man." 
 
 She was fortified against even this. Her arch glance hid the 
 heart-pang faithfully. " Where is slie ?" she questioned. 
 
 " Lelia ? at her father's house in S . Here is her coun- 
 terfeit." He unclasped a locket. 
 
 "It is like Carry !" said Ida; then she scanned it long and 
 earnestly. She was very beautiful ; with large, blue eyes ; and 
 a cherry mouth, just parted in a smile; and shining hair, folded 
 above the smooth forehead fair enough for him ! and as she 
 raised her eyes to say how^ lovely she was, she beheld herself in 
 the glass opposite wan, hollow-eyed and sallow and felt how 
 presumptuous how reckless in its folly, her dream had been ! 
 He shut the spring, without looking at it himself, (it was delicate 
 and considerate to avoid the comparison !) and making no reply 
 to her praises of his betrothed, began to speak of the bond of 
 fellowship, formed between themselves, since their parting. She 
 had been discouraged by her inability to talk of what was ever 
 in her mind ; had distrusted the genuineness of her faith, because 
 her tongue faltered in telling of the love which had redeemed 
 her. He entered fully info her feelings ; and she surprised her- 
 self by the freedom the consciousness of this afforded her. He told 
 her of his difficulties and temptations and conflicts, often antici- 
 pating what she would have related of her own experience. So 
 well did his counsels and comfort meet the inquiries and wants 
 of her spirit, that she debated within herself whether he were 
 not sent by heaven a special messenger in her hour of trial. 
 
 " Say on !" said he, encouragingly, as he caught her eye. 
 
 "I was about to ask if you believed in what are termed 
 minute or particular Providences." 
 
 " As in my existence ! even to the numbering of the hairs of 
 any head. You have not been troubling your brain with quib- 
 blingsupon this subject, I hope?" 
 
 " No ; but I have heard it disputed by very good people, who 
 confuse me by their 'free agency/ and 'accountability/ and 
 'decrees.' "
 
 ALONE. 245 
 
 " Discard theories, and eschew arguments. Let your Bible 
 and your common sense be your teachers. As a machinist 
 fashions the minutest cog of the smallest wheel, as carefully as 
 the mighty lever, the main power, so the Supreme Governor 
 looks to the balance of the tiniest atom in His universe." 
 
 " Then," said Ida ; I do not commit presumption when I 
 trace my Father's hand in every-day events ; when I lift up my 
 soul in thankfulness for a pleasant, or ennobling thought, a 
 visit, a gift, an act of friendship, which has made me better or 
 happier or say ' Thy will be done ?' in the petty trials, which 
 annoy, rather than afflict us !" 
 
 " It is your privilege and duty. The introductory sentence 
 of the Lord's Prayer is sufficient to inculcate this truth. < Our 
 Father ' is not a father's care constant ? He says moreover 
 1 we must become as little children.' Who relies more than a 
 child ? { As thy day is, so shall thy strength be ' } ' no matter 
 where, or how we are placed, God will give us the requisite 
 strength ; and as our positions are changing every moment, dees 
 not this say that He will be with us every moment, and order 
 the success of whatever we attempt, by the amount of strength 
 He imparts ? And again, < not a sparrow falls to the ground 
 without your Father.' Nothing which God does is small, and 
 He < orders all things according to the counsel of His own will.' 
 Then nothing is insignificant, because God orders everything. 
 Our actions may appear trivial; but do they not assume a ter- 
 rible importance, when we learn that even our fleeting words are 
 to be the data of our judgment, at the last day ? A few good 
 people doubt the doctrine of ( special Providences;' but is it not 
 better for us to believe what God says of his character, than to 
 determine what character he ought to have ? If He says He is 
 the God of < the hairs of our heads ' of < sparrows' and lilies 
 of the field all we have to do, is to take His word for truth, 
 and act accordingly. His attention to small things is as con- 
 clusive a proof of His Divinity, as to great ones. It has been 
 well said, that ' man cannot comprehend the Infinitely great, 
 nor the Infinitely small.' But I weary you." 
 
 "You do not I am interested and instructed. I am but a 
 babe in leading-strings ; so weak and ignorant, it terrifies me to 
 21*
 
 246 ALONE. 
 
 think of the possibility that I will be obliged to take a single 
 step without holding my Father's hand." 
 
 " That is what none of us are called upon to do, Ida. < I will 
 never leave thee, nor forsake thee.' < Even there shall thy hand 
 lead me, and Thy right hand shall hold me.' We could not 
 stand alone an instant, were this ' right hand' withdrawn." 
 
 " Charley, who strews many pearls among the rubbish he 
 scatters abroad, once set me to thinking seriously I hope, 
 not unprofitably, by wondering why Christians were ever low- 
 spirited," said Ida. " It seems to me that they would not be, 
 "tf their confidence in God were implicit and abiding ; but I am 
 often sad almost desponding." 
 
 " To-night, for instance," said Mr. Lacy, cheerfully. " ' This 
 kind goeth not out, but by prayer;' and you must not be cast 
 down, that you cannot, in a month, overcome a habit of years. 
 Humanly speaking, you have had much to embitter your lot ; 
 but as we can, in reviewing our past lives, see many events 
 which, Janus-like, approached us frowningly, now changed to 
 smiles of blessing, ought we not, with this attestation of expe- 
 rience to the truth of His promises, to trust Him in the dark 
 ways we now tread ?" 
 
 "Poor Lynn!" her full eyes overflowed. "How frequently 
 I am reminded of his 
 
 'I am blind ! in rough paths groping 
 With outstretched hands and sightless eyes!'" 
 
 "Let us hope that the Everlasting arms received him," said 
 Mr. Lacy. "I feared to speak of him to you, Ida; knowing, 
 as I do, that upon a heart like yours, such a blow must have 
 left indelible traces. You have not you never will forget him, 
 but can you not believe that this, too, was intended for your 
 good?" 
 
 " I do although at the time, it seemed very hard that from 
 my meagre list of friends, one so necessary to my happiness, 
 should be stricken. I may never meet another, who will give 
 me affection so fond, yet so disinterested." 
 
 " Disinterested ! that is a term not generally applied to love 
 which leads to betrothal." 
 
 " Mr. Lacy !" ejaculated Ida, astonished. " But no ! you 
 knew us too well ? did Lynn never tell you " she stopped.
 
 ALONE. 247 
 
 " No, I first heard of your engagement from a third person ; 
 you confirmed it, subsequently," 
 
 "What do you mean? you are under a strange misapprehen- 
 sion. I never was betrothed to Lynn j he never thought of me 
 but as a friend." 
 
 " Ida !" his tone was stern. " What are you saying ? Have 
 you forgotten the night you left my side for his, upon seeing his 
 dejection the long promenade, and his reproaches for what he 
 deemed wrongfully, as I am now assured was coquetry in 
 you? I was told then, what I had heard, without heeding 
 before, that you were plighted lovers. So confirmed was I in 
 my disbelief that I would have declared it, in defiance of the proofs 
 presented to me, had I not overheard by accident a portion of 
 your conversation. He said (I remember it well !) < I have 
 loved you as man never loved woman before have believed you 
 pure and high-minded. If I thought that the despicable coquetry 
 you hint at, had caused you to insist upon the concealment of 
 our engagement ' I lost the rest. Is not this enough ? must 1 
 harrow your feelings by recurring to your appeal to me to save 
 him from crime and death for your sake ; or to the awful hour 
 when you were summoned to receive his last sigh? Oh! Ida! 
 Ida ! I have trusted in your truth do not shake my faith now I" 
 
 There was bewilderment, but not falsehood in the eyes that 
 sustained his rebuking glance. " I have spoken the truth. The 
 sentence which misled you, was the repetition of a remark made 
 to another ; the whisper in his dying hour, a message to the 
 same. To me I repeat he was a brother, devoted and true 
 to the last but nothing more." 
 
 His lips were ashy white; his self-command had utterly 
 deserted him. 
 
 "I have been terribly deceived I" he said, rising and pacing 
 the floor. Ida !" he resumed, coming back to her side, " we 
 have spoken ef the mysterious dealings of Providence, I did 
 not think my trust would be tested so soon. You have unwit- 
 tingly awakened a pain, I thought was stilled forever, and jus- 
 tice to you, and to myself, requires me to endure it yet awhile 
 longer. We are friends we can never be anything nearer 
 but if I were the husband, instead of the betrothed of another, 
 I should feel bound to clear my honor from the aspersion my
 
 248 ALONE. 
 
 conduct has cast upon it. My actions my language, must 
 have convinced you that I loved you ; you were ignorant of the 
 mistake into which I had fallen what interpretation have you 
 put upon my course, since ? You did not misconstrue my atten- 
 tions then tell me am I a knave a hypocrite in your sight?" 
 
 "Never!" said she, lifting a face, as pale as his own. "My 
 confidence in your friendship and integrity has not swerved, and 
 there lives not one who will pray for your happiness with 'more 
 sincerity; who is more thankful for your noble renunciation of 
 personal feeling to advance her welfare. We are friends 1 we 
 will forget everything but this." 
 
 She was standing before him ; and while speaking, laid her 
 hand in his. He gazed silently into the countenance, so elevated 
 in its look of heroic self-devotion. 
 
 " You have chosen one far more worthy of you than I could 
 ever have been ; you will be very happy together. I hope to 
 meet her some day, and love her, as all must love the beautiful 
 and good. There is a consolation those friends have at parting,, 
 whose home is not here; that, although we walk in different 
 pathways on earth, they all lead to our abiding-place Heaven." 
 With an uncontrollable impulse, he drew her to him, and pressed 
 his lips to her brow ! He was gone ! and the poor human heart 
 bled from the slow torture to which it had been put. He had 
 not dreamed of it, had not suspected, when her steady, sweet 
 tones told him of their separate pathways, that her soul was 
 reaching, in intense yearnings, towards the lightsome way, 
 where flowers sprang beneath his steps, and shuddering at the 
 tomb-like chill of that which echoed her lonely foot-fall. He 
 was gone ! and the weeping eyes which sought Heaven, showed 
 from whence she had derived the supernatural strength which 
 had borne her through the trying interview; and with the cry 
 of unspeakable sorrow that succeeded his departure, arose a peti- 
 tion for larger supplies. It was granted. She wept still; but 
 not in wretchedness. Solemn, pure resolutions were growing 
 up beneath the waves of grief. The destruction of this hope 
 the dearest in a woman's heart, was the fall of a proud plant, 
 the garden's pride in its matured beauty. Buds and blooms 
 wilt and perish upon the stalk, but from the laden seed-vessels 
 are showered far and wide germs that shall rejoice many hearts 
 with the sweetness and loveliness their parent garnered fr v / ~~p-
 
 ALONE. 249 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 IT was so cold and damp in the morning, that Rachel, in virtue 
 of her nursely prerogatives, forbade her mistress' rising before 
 breakfast. Ida was not averse to keeping her room. She 
 wished to achieve another victory over herself before meeting 
 Josephine. A suspicion of her agency in Mr. Lacy's deception 
 ripened, upon reflection, into a certainty, her love of justice 
 prompted her to banish. But a hundred incidents occurred to 
 her memory. Especially, she recollected that Josephine had 
 accosted him, directly after she had taken Lynn's arm in the 
 Fair-room, that she was still with him at the close of the even- 
 ing, and that he had looked sorrowfully reproachfully at her. 
 She had no just conception of the girl's total destitution of prin- 
 ciple, nor of her envy of herself; but she knew her to be weak, 
 vain and spiteful ; and against her will, she had to credit a con- 
 clusion, she judged uncharitable. She did not desire to ascer- 
 tain its truth; it could make no difference at this late date. 
 Another perplexity assailed her; should she tell Josephine of 
 the visit she had had ? Should she hear of it from some other 
 source, or by a direct inquiry of herself, whether she had spent 
 the evening alone what conjectures might not be formed as to 
 the motive of her silence ? She was deliberating thus, when the 
 door flew back, and Josephine walked in. Ida, nervously excit- 
 able, started from her pillow, and clasped her hands in speech- 
 less alarm at the suddenness and disorder of her appearance. 
 She was frightfully pallid, and her eyes were inflamed with 
 weeping and rage. 
 
 Locking the door, she advanced to the foot of the bed, and 
 grasped the post tightly, as if to brace herself for some' desperate 
 act. Ida could not stir, and the two regarded each other for a 
 moment without a word. Josephine was torn by some fearful 
 conflict : Ida had never seen her eyes dimmed by a tear ; and 
 when the struggle for language ended in a tempestuous burst of 
 weeping, the thought flashed over her, that she was bereft of
 
 250 ALONE. 
 
 " Josephine ! what has happened ?" she could scarcely utter. 
 
 Josephine dashed off the thick-coming drops. 
 
 " Happened ! yes ! it will not matter to you, who can leave 
 this abominable place in two years or to-morrow, if you choose 
 to have your own way. / am to stay, and be pushed about, and 
 lectured and ruled by a hideous vixen ! I could kill her, and 
 him too !" 
 
 " Are you raving ? Who is it ?" 
 
 " His wife ! the dotard ! the foolish old greybeard 1" 
 
 " Josephine ! you cannot mean your father !" 
 
 " I do mean him ; and he -is a doting fool, to be playing the 
 sighing lover at his age and to whom ? A baby-faced chit, just 
 out of her teens ! a spoiled doll of a thing whose prattle and 
 tricks have addled his brains if he ever had any. I won't stay 
 here ! I will beg my bread in the street first !" 
 
 "But he is not married yet; you maybe mistaken. How 
 did your hear it Y' 
 
 " From himself, on our way to that detestable ball. I wish 
 he, and she, and it, were at the bottom of the Dead Sea ! He 
 commenced < Josey, my dear !' Oh, the deceitful villain !" 
 
 " Josephine !" said Ida, shuddering. 
 
 " He is ! and I will say it ! ' Josey ' said he, simpering and 
 giggling like a shame-faced school-boy < Can you guess why 
 I consented to your having that dress Y' 
 
 " Because I liked it I suppose, sir." 
 
 " < No, my dear ; I had my reasons for wishing you to look 
 well to-night. I expect to meet a friend at the ball, to whom I 
 shall introduce you.' 
 
 " Who is it, sir ? may I ask ?" said I. 
 
 " He giggled and winked oh ! so disgustingly ! < Did you 
 imagine that I was idle all the time I was in the country ? You 
 were flirting at the Springs, and I concluded to try my hand. 
 You have too much care upon you, for so young a person; what 
 do you say to my engaging a ' help ?' 
 
 A housekeeper would be a convenience ;" answered I. 
 
 < A ball is a proper place to hunt up housekeepers !' said he, 
 blazing out. < No airs, miss ! you understand me ! I am to be 
 married in a fortnight, and you may as well take it quietly 
 or it will be worse for you.'
 
 ALONE. 251 
 
 "It is too late for him to brow-beat me, ind so I said; and 
 that I would worry his and her life out, as surely as she crossed 
 this threshold that he had made himself the laughing-stock 
 of the city had been taken in by a designing creature who 
 wanted his money for he had lost his good looks and hia 
 senses too, it appeared " 
 
 " ' If you say another word/ said he, griping my arm there! 
 you see the bruise ! < I will put you out of the carriage, and 
 you may die before I will give you a cent to save you from star- 
 vation. You will see this lady to-night, and if you do not treat 
 her with becoming politeness, you don't go home with me, nor 
 after me, either !' 
 
 " You never saw such a tiger ! When we were there, 1 
 scowled at every dried-up old maid, who looked as if she were 
 husband-hunting. I had picked out one, with a skinny neck 
 and corkscrew curls, when up steps our youthful lover, with a 
 lady hanging on his arm ; he, all honey and smiles she, cool 
 and bold. < Miss Copeland let me make you acquainted with 
 my daughter !' I wanted to strike her in the face, but his eye was 
 too threatening ; so I choked myself with a pretty speech, and 
 she bowed condescendingly. I gave her one look, though, when 
 he did not see and she glared back at me. I'll warrant there'll 
 be no love lost I" 
 
 "But what is she like? She may be an agreeable com- 
 panion," said Ida. 
 
 " Ida Ross! I didn't come to you for canting consolation ! I 
 was too full to keep my fury to myself and I hate her rather more 
 than I do you. This is why I have told you about the wretch. 
 ' Companion !' I'll be company for her ! She had better be 
 burned alive, than come here. She will wish she had been, or 
 iny name is not Read !" 
 
 " But you can escape by marriage /' suggested Ida, who per- 
 ceived that the girl was suffering, and pitied her, while she trem- 
 bled at her frenzy. 
 
 " Say that again, and I will murder you \" retorted Josephine, 
 in the white heat of concentrated passion. " You will make me 
 remember that our old scores are not quite settled yet." 
 
 " I have no scores against ycu ;" said Ida, firmly. " The 
 past cannot return why refer to it ?"
 
 252 ALONE. 
 
 Josephine regarded her fixedly, " You are wise I" she said, 
 presently, breaking into a contemptuous laugh. To another, 
 you would preach repentance you know I never repent I" and 
 with this strange speech, she quitted her. 
 
 Now that he had broken the matter to his daughter, the bride- 
 groom used the utmost celerity in the despatch of preliminaries. 
 The house was filled with workmen, upholsterers and cooks, 
 whose din destroyed the quiet of Ida's chamber, the only one left 
 unaltered. Josephine adhered to her resolution not to move a 
 finger in the preparations for the detested intruder's reception. 
 She would not go to the marriage, which took place at the bride's 
 father's, in the country. Mr. Read did not insist; he was 
 secretly pleased to be free for this evening conscious that he 
 could acquit himself more creditably, if her eyes were not upon 
 him. The wedding party was to be at his house, the next night 
 but one. The supper was in the hands of the profession ; Mr. 
 Read being too prudent to risk the probability of a grievous 
 mortification, by entrusting the most trifling arrangement to his 
 filial mar-plot. 
 
 It was dark when the bridal party arrived. The girls were 
 dressed, and in the drawing-room. Ida's picture of the bride, 
 drawn from Josephine's representment, was of an overdressed, 
 forward country girl, who had wheedled and flattered a man of 
 treble her age, into an offer of his hand and fortune ; and she 
 was puzzled by the elaborate toilette of the step-daughter. If her 
 aim was to outshine the creature she had described, she had cer- 
 tainly over-estimated the labor its accomplishment required. She 
 swept into the apartment with a hauteur, that made her diminu- 
 tive form appear two inches taller; her jetty hair, almost an 
 incumbrance from its length and profusion, dressed partly in 
 ringlets, partly in braids instead of, as she usually wore it at 
 parties, and as her father liked to see it in natural curls float- 
 ing upon her shoulders. This style gave her a juvenile air, 
 pleasing, heretofore discarded by the full-fledged woman she 
 acted to-night. Her robe was of white satin; the falling shoul- 
 ders and proud swell of the throat exhibited to fine advantage 
 by the low bodice. Ida was dressed in a silver-grey silk, with a 
 berthe of rich black lace; the throat-latch and cuffs of black 
 velvet and jet, making her extreme paleness more striking. Her
 
 ALONE. 253 
 
 figure and expression of repose had its opposite in the impersona- 
 tion of splendid inquietude, which trod the rooms impatiently, 
 rustling and gleaming in the blaze of the chandeliers. 
 
 " They have come !" said Ida, with a pitying accent, she could 
 not repress, as Josphine turned deadly pale at the sound of 
 wheels. "We must meet them," and she took her hand. Hers 
 was fiercely thrown off. Repellant, defiant, she disdained sup- 
 port. The bride's brother and bridemaids had accompanied 
 her; but Ida scarcely remarked their muffled-up figures, as 
 "Miss Murray " "Miss Arnold" were named. Her eyes 
 and thoughts were for the new Mrs. Bead. Josephine's aver- 
 sion had hood-winked her. Ida subscribed to her "cool and 
 bold," as the solitary clause of the description that had the 
 slightest resemblance to the reality ; and " bold" was too coarse 
 an epithet for the polished indifference of a woman of the world. 
 She was not more than three-and-twenty, handsome, even in her 
 travelling apparel not "baby-faced" and went through the 
 introductions with a nonchalant grace ; touching Josephine's 
 cheek with her lips ; extending to Ida, the tips of her fingers, 
 and bestowing a fashionable nod upon the group of servants in 
 the hall ; then, escorted by her husband, led the way, up-stairs. 
 Josephine's face was balefully dark, as she resumed her walk. 
 It was a part of her retribution, although she would not see it, 
 that as she had slighted, and thrust aside others, whose rights 
 were equal with hers, she was to take a secondary place where 
 she had ruled so long. 
 
 The company were assembled, before the happy pair made 
 their entry. Charley was with Ida he was seldom far off 
 "November and June !" exclaimed he, aside. "Its enough to 
 cause a man to forswear your sex, to see such a being a voluntary 
 victim upon the altar of mammon." 
 
 Ida caught his arm; and seeing that she was fainting, he 
 seized a bottle of cologne-water from the mantel, and dashed a 
 handful into her face, so quickly and dexterously, that his nearest 
 neighbors did not understand the movement. The powerful per- 
 fume recalled her scattering senses. Charley put her in the 
 corner of a sofa ; and placed himself in front of her, to screen 
 her from observation, until her agitation should subside. It was 
 quickly over; and only remarking "You cannot get through 
 22
 
 254 ALONE. 
 
 the crowd just yet sit still I" he continued fanning her, \nd 
 chatting, as if her illness were the most natural thing imagina- 
 ble, a matter of no moment. His eyes were as busy as his 
 tongue; and in their apparently aimless rovings, no group 
 escaped scrutiny. He was fairly at fault ; and opposed as the 
 conclusion was to the premises he had assumed, was compelled 
 to refer her attack to physical causes. Once, he fancied he saw 
 an imploring agony in her eye, which entreated for help or com- 
 fort ; but while he looked, it disappeared, leaving a serenity that 
 rebuked his suspicions. 
 
 " Who is this Mr. Read is convoying this way ?" he inquired. 
 " I ought to know him." 
 
 "He is a stranger to me," replied Ida. 
 
 " Miss Ross, Mr. Copeland fears you will not recognise him, 
 without a second introduction," said the host. 
 
 " And Mr. Copeland's fears were not groundless," said that 
 gentleman, when his brother-in-law was out of hearing. " A 
 less modest individual than myself might be dubious of the 
 durability of an impression, made under such circumstances, as 
 our briefest of brief interviews, when I could have been, at 
 best, but a fourth-rate attraction. Mr. Dana I believe ! I need 
 not excuse myself for not observing you before. This is a bril- 
 liant assembly, Miss Ross. I have been rating my excellent 
 brother-in-law" there was the least curl of scorn upon his 
 handsome mouth as he pronounced these words " for deserting 
 this galaxy of beauty to seek a mate in our gloomier regions." 
 
 "Isolated stars often dispense more light than the millions 
 composing the galaxy," answered Ida. 
 
 " I have thought the same since I reached this corner," he 
 returned, gallantly. " I parted with a friend of yours, yester- 
 day, who would not have granted me time to say a word for 
 myself, if I had engaged to deliver a quarter of the messages 
 he charged me with." 
 
 " Ah ! who was so unreasonable ?" 
 
 " Mr. Germaine," he replied, smiling, as the blood rose to her 
 cheek. " He enacted Telemachus last summer, with a difference 
 in the object of his search." 
 
 " But with a like termination," said Charley, who seemed to 
 understand the allusion.
 
 ALONE. 25o 
 
 " Yes as it proved; but he did not know it at that time. He 
 called by to see me on his way home. He was in a deplorable 
 state of mind ; but I am happy to say that the consolations of 
 friendship were not unavailing. I have succeeded in inocula 
 ting him with hopes of more fortunate chances in future. Yes- 
 terday, he was ready to swear with Barnadine, that he < would 
 not die that day for any man's persuasion.' " 
 
 "Had he been long absent from his own neighborhood?" 
 asked Ida. "Did he speak of Dr. Carleton's family?" 
 
 "Frequently. They are in their usual health, I believe, 
 although he was not explicit upon this point; all ideas con- 
 nected with Poplar-grove having a marked proclivity backward. 
 < Last summer' was the starting-point and terminus of his dis- 
 course to me. I am going to say something rude, Miss Ross. 
 Ls the lady by the pier-table your cousin-german ?" 
 
 " What if she were my sister ?" 
 
 " I should say, with all frankness, that I could not detect the 
 family likeness. As she is not related by consanguinity or 
 affinity, we will hope, benevolently, that her attendant is not 
 constituted like my sister, who faints at passing a freshly- 
 painted house ; and furthermore award her praise for her libe- 
 rality. You have heard of the clay that lived with roses do 
 you think that gentleman would appreciate the apologue ?" 
 
 Ida and Charley laughed, although the remark might have 
 been considered ill-natured. The pure red and white of the 
 lady's face remained intact, but the gentleman's coat-sleeve had 
 received a bountiful donation of flour or chalk from the snowy 
 arm resting upon it. 
 
 " Is not that your friend, Miss Read ?" pursued Mr. Copeland. 
 "A pretty casket, but how frail to enshrine the spirit that 
 speaks in those orbs ! There is stirring music there, or I am 
 mistaken. Hear me, Miss Ross, before you annihilate me by a 
 second look of reproof. We simple yeomen do not get away 
 from our farms often ; and not above once in a lifetime happen 
 upon such a godsend as this is, for adding to our slender stock 
 of information. I am a boy of an inquiring mind, and my venera- 
 ble and respected father's parting injunction was to keep my eyes 
 and ears open. You believe every word I am saying I see it 
 in your countenance. You do not fear to accept my arm for a 
 promenade ? Mr. Dana au revoir."
 
 256 ALONE. 
 
 " I am afraid you have chosen an indifferent cicerone/' said 
 Ida. 
 
 " How unjust ! I repel the insinuation, and to prove my inno- 
 cence, will not ask a question concerning any one but yourself." 
 
 " I will answer those upon any other subject more readily." 
 
 " I had not expected to find you one who would shirk inquiry 
 into her character and actions. Luckily I am not deputed to 
 institute it. You do not flirt, I understand, Miss Ross ?" 
 
 Never Why the question ?" 
 
 " It is the principal amusement here, I observe ; and that 
 reminded me of my curiosity to behold you, when I heard that 
 you were, in this respect, an anomaly in your sex." 
 
 " Is your judgment so unsparing?" said Ida. "I know many, 
 whose sentiments and practices coincide with mine ; but before 
 we dispute, let us have a clear sense of each other's meaning. 
 What is your definition of flirting ?" 
 
 " With men, it signifies paying attentions that warrant the 
 expectation of courtship : a formal declaration, or expressions 
 which are tantamount to it, when we have no inclination or 
 intention to fulfil an engagement of marriage. The man who 
 does this, incurs the opprobrium of the community, unless the 
 lady is as great an adept in the art as himself. Then, it is a 
 harmless sham fight ; no mischief done, and nobody to blame. 
 On the other side, the hapless wight, who is worsted by a 
 coquette, has to bear ridicule, in addition to his bruises. She 
 may beckon her victim on by smiles and blushes and half-uttered 
 fondness, actually give him the pledges, and admit him to the 
 privileges of an accepted lover; and then laugh in the face of 
 the fond fool, whose peace she has wilfully destroyed ; and this 
 sensible, charitable world claps its hands, and shouts < bravo ! 
 for a clever woman !' " 
 
 " No woman will acknowledge the truthfulness of this sketch," 
 rejoined Ida. " I have seen unthinking girls act thus ; but we 
 are cognizant of the crime not its punishment, which is inevita- 
 ble and severe." 
 
 " They settle down generally, like their neighbors, to a home 
 and a husband," said Mr. Copeland. 
 
 " This is their outward lot ; who knows their inner life ?" 
 
 " The inner life of a woman ! who, indeed ! what a tissue of
 
 ALONE. 257 
 
 contradictions it must be ! Follow my eye, Miss Ross. Do you 
 see that Peri with cerulean eyes, who is bowing to that gentle- 
 man's petition for 'the pleasure of her hand?'" Again, that 
 blanching cheek, as she murmured ' yes.' 
 
 " It is Lelia Arnold my sister's bridesmaid. She is the love- 
 liest and gayest girl in the room ; you would say that she could 
 not exist, but in this hot-house of flattery and pleasure. Last 
 spring she went on a visit to a sick friend, and for four months 
 we lost sight of her. She resides about six miles from us ; and 
 we were notified of her return by her driving over, one day, 
 attended by a handsome fellow, brother to the 'dear Annie ' 
 with whom she had been staying. The truth was out ! The 
 parade the family made of her disinterestedness and attachment 
 to the invalid deceived my sister, but not me. She aims at uni- 
 versal fascination; this Lacy has prepossessing manners and 
 appearance, talent, and it may be, money. Her four months' 
 nursing was a judicious outlay. Helen Mrs. Read, declares 
 there is no engagement; but I retain my opinion. She is, 
 to-night, la reine du bal; on Sunday, she will kneel, in Church, 
 the most angelic vision that ever was vouchsafed to a Catholic's 
 prayers ; relate a tale of woe, and the eyes now dancing in mirth, 
 will be dewy with tears ; if you are worth winning, she is the 
 tender, love-beseeching girl. I am the only one who quarrels 
 with her. The first time, I was ready to blow my brains out, for 
 my brutality. I think now I shall wait for a more convenient 
 season. She is 
 
 'A perfect woman, nobly planned, 
 To warn, to comfort, to command,' 
 
 minus a heart !" 
 
 " Are you well advised of this ?" Her voice was very low. 
 
 " I wish I were as surt of a diudem ! and if I had it, I will 
 not be my own security, that she could not coax it from me, in 
 five minutes after it came into my possession. Do not imagine 
 this a digression from the subject. I could tell you of an exile 
 from his native land, driven thence by her falsehood ; of one, 
 with high intellect and gigantic energies, paralyzed by his fall 
 from the dizzy height, to which her promises had raised him; 
 and the snow, this winter night, enwraps another pierced heart, 
 as cold as that which moves her fleecy drapery. What do you 
 22*
 
 258 ALONE. 
 
 say now, Miss Ross ? Does the world heap no honors, lavish no 
 applause upon, her ?" 
 
 " I do not know how to believe you I" said Ida, putting her 
 hand confusedly to her forehead. 
 
 " It is no private scandal; I do not retail such, the facts 
 are notorious. Yet ask Helen ask any woman who ( knows 
 society/ and she will certify to the frequency of these occur- 
 rences 'crimes' you called them and the impunity with 
 which they are committed." 
 
 " It is a crime !" said Ida, wildly; an atrocious crime !" 
 
 " My dear Miss Eoss ! one would think you were reprobating 
 a highway murderer ! Recover yourself the perpetrators are 
 your acquaintances and friends. Another set, Helen ! does Mr. 
 Read take the floor, too ?" he said to his sister, with the mock- 
 ing smile Ida had noticed once before. 
 
 " I do not know ;" she replied, carelessly. " He can take 
 care of himself " 
 
 " Having nearly arrived at years of discretion ;" he concluded 
 the sentence. 
 
 Ida did not like the unnecessary taunt, nor the smile with 
 which he turned to her. 
 
 " Your naive abhorrence of flirtation, emboldens me to ask 
 another question. Has disinterested affection an abode upon 
 earth ?" 
 
 " Are you infidel there also ?" said Ida, lightly. 
 
 "You evade. I ask no reply but that. You are a believer; 
 and while I was telling my story, your mind was running 
 through the details of conduct, diametrically opposed to our fair 
 friend's yonder." 
 
 It was a random shot ; but that it told, he was assured by 
 the nervous tremor of her arm; and kindly violating hjs promise 
 not to be inquisitive about his fellow-guests, returned to his jest- 
 ing strain. 
 
 It was well that he did. She was fearfully tried. At Miss 
 Arnold's entrance, she had known the original of "Lelia's" 
 miniature; but cowering at the unexpected ordeal she must 
 undergo, while she was beneath the same roof with herself, took 
 refuge in the hope that she was deceived by an accidental resem- 
 blance. Mr. Copeland had torn down this frail shelter, and
 
 ALONE. 259 
 
 added a new sorrow to the burden that was crushing her. Why 
 was she made to hear this recital ? Was there a " special Pro- 
 vidence" in his being Mr. Germaine's friend, and singling her 
 out among a hundred strangers? What directed his mind into 
 the channel it took ? what pointed his finger to Lelia Arnold, 
 and thereby probed her heart to its core ? She had taught her- 
 self to think of, and pray for his wife the good and beautiful/' 
 but not for this heartless coquette " not for her ! oh ! my 
 Father ! I could have borne anything but this I" she cried, in 
 bitterness of spirit. It was an experience which smites many 
 with sore amazement that it is easier to learn resignation for 
 ouselves, than for those we love. She had begun her uninviting 
 journey meekly ; but rebelled that a cloud lowered over him. 
 
 Night, morning passed the afternoon was upon the wane, 
 ere she gained fortitude of body and spirit, for a re-encounter 
 with the formidable stranger. A prop to her resolution was 
 applied by Rachel, who " thought them young ladies must be 
 having a mighty dull time. Mrs. Read nor Miss Josephine 
 didn't leave their rooms from breakfast to dinner; and looks 
 like they meaned to stay thar, till plump night; and Miss 
 Murray and Miss Arnold are wandering about, like lost sheep. 
 I wish you was well enough to sit with them awhile, Miss Ida." 
 
 Matters were much as she had represented. Miss Arnold 
 was watching the passers-by, with an enmtyte air, and Miss 
 Murray lounging in an easy chair, with a book. The latter 
 arose with a cordial air. 
 
 " I am glad you are able to be with us again. You seem 
 feeble, and we were uneasy lest fatigue might have made you 
 sick." 
 
 Miss Arnold bowed distantly, and held herself aloof, during 
 the dialogue that ensued. Ida gathered courage as she wit- 
 nessed her uninterested attitude, which could hardly have been 
 feigned. She had not recognised her ; or as she reflected, in 
 her humility, was more probable, had never heard of her. The 
 thought was unflattering, but there was relief in it. Miss 
 Murray was affable and unaffected ; her features only redeemed 
 from plainness by their agreeable expression. They talked of 
 the distinctive traits of town and country life. She " had never 
 resided in the city," Miss Murray said, but had attended Mr.
 
 260 ALONE. 
 
 Purcell's school one session." Ida inquired " when ?" and 
 heard that they were there together, but in different classes. 
 
 " I do not remember seeing you," said she. 
 
 "But 7 kne\y your face, yesterday afternoon;" was Miss 
 Murray's reply. 
 
 " Carry Carleton was your desk-mate, and Anna Talbot sat 
 before you." 
 
 They were at no loss for topics now ; and " Alice" and Ida" 
 superseded the formal " Miss." 
 
 " I read of Carry's marriage in the papers, but the name of 
 her caro sposo has slipped my memory ;" said Miss Murray. 
 
 "Dr. Dana, he is an excellent young man; handsome, 
 amiable, and has a high reputation as an intelligent man, and 
 skilful physician." 
 
 "Dana ! was there a gentleman of that name here last night?" 
 asked Alice. 
 
 " Yes his brother." 
 
 "He was introduced to me;" and she laughed. "He is 
 an original. I was highly entertained by his humorous say- 
 ings." 
 
 She was interested in Ida's graphic limning of his character. 
 
 " He is an intimate friend of yours, then ?" 
 
 " One of the best I have ; the kindest of brothers." 
 
 "I knew he was as good as funny, from his face. You saw 
 him, Lelia?" 
 
 " "Whom ?" asked she, without moving. 
 
 " Mr. Dana, the humorous gentleman, I talked to so long, by 
 the piano." 
 
 " I saw him, but heard no humor. I thought him very 
 stupid." 
 
 Miss Murray reddened. " Why, Lelia ! but you are not a 
 fair judge. If he had talked to you, you would not say so." 
 
 t( He ( bored' me for what seemed an eternity, but which, Mr. 
 Copeland, who released me, said was only ten minutes," said 
 she, carelessly. 
 
 Miss Murray was content she should be silent, after this mal- 
 apropos observation. Ida said "one must be well acquainted 
 with him to appreciate him." Miss Arnold measured her from 
 head to foot, and saying coldly, " I rarely err in a first opinion;" 
 turned her blue eyes to the window again.
 
 ALONE. 
 
 The others were forgetting her in the deepening stream of 
 chat, when she came to the fire-place. "I am chilly!" she 
 said, and throwing one of the sofa-pillows at Alice's feet, seated 
 herself, and leaned her elbow upon her friend's lap. She was 
 bewitchingly lovely Ida owned; and so may have thought 
 Richard Copeland, who happened to enter, just as she was 
 settled. 
 
 " Rehearsing tableaux, young ladies !" said he. " Miss Ross 
 Miss Alice good evening. You play humility, I perceive, 
 Miss Lelia." 
 
 She did not offer to rise. " Do not I become the character ?" 
 she inquired. 
 
 " The character becomes you, at any rate. How have you 
 wiled away the day, Miss Alice ?" 
 
 Her sunshiny face made him as frank as herself, when he 
 addressed her. 
 
 "Oh!" said she. "In sleeping, reading and eating, I con- 
 trived to dispose of all but the past hour or two, of which Miss 
 Ross has kindly relieved me." 
 
 " I can testify to her adroitness in this particular," he replied. 
 She did a little time-lifting for me last evening. Have you 
 finished your official returns of < killed, wounded and missing,' 
 Miss Ross ?" 
 
 " I suspect my bulletins would comprise most of the latter," 
 said Ida. 
 
 And mine !" echoed Alice. 
 
 "There is one exception, at least," he returned, bowing. 
 " Decide between yourselves to whom the captive belongs." 
 
 "May I be umpire?" asked Miss Arnold, her cheeks dimpling 
 mischievously. 
 
 " When I was a boy, Miss Lelia, I read in an old spelling- 
 book, of two cats, who came to the scratch over a piece of cheese, 
 and agreed to refer its division to the monkey's arbitration. You 
 have read it too, and recollect the catastrophe." 
 
 He appeared to take pleasure in being as rude to her as the 
 letter of politeness allowed ; and she bore it patiently, without 
 relaxing her efforts to please and attract. 
 
 Where are Helen and Miss Read ?" he asked of Alice. "Do 
 all the duties of hospitality devolve upon Miss Ross ?"
 
 262 ALONE. 
 
 " They are resting, I suppose, to be blooming at the party 
 to-night," replied she. 
 
 " Your roses, then, are not so precious. Is this so ?" 
 
 " Say instead, that they are perpetual," said Ida. 
 
 Alice blushed and laughed. 
 
 "Are we to be favored with your company, Miss Ross?" 
 inquired Mr. Copeland. 
 
 " No, I do not keep late hours until my health is confirmed." 
 
 "What a pity!" exclaimed Alice. "Do go! I shall feel so 
 strange, so lonely !" 
 
 " Mr. Copeland will prevent that ; and I make over to you 
 my interest in my friend, Mr. Dana, for one evening." 
 
 "Are you in the market for the first bidder?" said Miss 
 Arnold, with pretty archness, to the former gentleman. 
 
 If Miss Koss pleases. I intended to ask permission to 
 remain in my present quarters until the hour at which we ultra- 
 fashionables go to routs ; but if she banishes me sooner, I am 
 proud to do her bidding, hard as it is." 
 
 The lamps were lighted ; and Mrs. Read conferred the further 
 illumination of her presence. 
 
 " Where's your liege-lord, my lady ?" asked her brother; and 
 she replied, as she did, whenever she could, to inquiries con- 
 cerning him "Indeed, I do not know," and sank indolently 
 upon a divan. The large, slumberous eyes did not brighten at 
 his step in the hall ; and when she drew her dress aside to make 
 room for him, it was with more thought for the costly fabric, 
 than desire to have him near. Josephine came in, as the bell 
 sounded for supper. It was a cheerful meal, in spite of her 
 haughty silence, and Ida's inward conflicts. Alice Murray's 
 even spirits had an equalising effect upon the varied tempera- 
 ments around her ; Miss Arnold was witty and charming. Ida 
 could not deny her eyes the luxury of watching her animated 
 countenance. They feasted upon its beauty, until every thought 
 was merged in admiration; and this, while, Mr. Copeland's 
 sallies were exclusively for herself. Mrs. Read aroused from 
 her proud languor, and manifested a keen relish for the ridi- 
 culous, and satirical powers, not inferior to her brother's. There 
 was a veiled acrimony in their manner to each other, which 
 impressed Ida with the belief of some unsettled feud, never lost
 
 ALONE. 263 
 
 sight of by either; and which she could not reconcile with 
 Alice's assertion, that he was Mrs. Read's best-beloved brother. 
 Their personal resemblance was marked ; but gay and caustic 
 as he was, there were scintillations of feeling in his dark eyes, 
 which had burnt out, or were smothered in hers. " And how 
 else could it be ?" she said to herself, as she looked at her dig- 
 nified guardian, transformed for the nonce, into the uxorious 
 husband ; and marvelled, for the thousandth time " What 
 made her marry him ?" 
 
 They were incredulous when Mr. Read said it was time to 
 dress for Mrs. Talbot's. 
 
 " You go with us, Richard ?" said his sister. 
 
 " I will meet you there; I must go to my hotel awhile first." 
 
 There could be no reason for this, yet Ida thought Miss 
 Arnold's brow clouded. 
 
 " Your hair was prettily arranged last night, Ida," said Alice. 
 " Will you give me a few hints as to my coiffure ?" 
 
 11 With pleasure. I was about to ask if I could assist you in 
 any way ?" 
 
 So, instead of going off to her " sanctum," she busied herself 
 in the dressing-room. Alice laughed and talked incessantly; 
 Miss Arnold was grave and mute, except when her maid paused 
 for directions. She objected, in the mildest of tones, that there 
 was not light enough upon her table, and thanked " dear, obliging 
 Alice," who sent a candle from hers, without fearing she could 
 not spare it. 
 
 " I never looked so well in all my life I" said Alice, clasping 
 her hands in pretended rapture. " I am all impatience to try 
 the effect of my beauty. You have won me one admirer, Ida 
 myself." 
 
 "Add me to the number," said Miss Arnold, and gliding up, 
 she kissed the rosy cheek. 
 
 " Lelia ! my darling !" screamed Alice. " My darling ! 
 you are an angel ! Ida ! is she not lovely ?" 
 
 " Very !" said Ida, and she felt it. Alice said an affectionate 
 the rest a polite farewell; they drove off; and she went 
 very quietly to her chamber quietly though her hand was 
 pressed hard upon her heart; and her throat ached, as if iron 
 fingers were tightened around it ; and while they were dancing,
 
 264 A L N E . 
 
 she was kneeling before that precious Bible, forgetting sorrow 
 and self in its sublime teachings ; hours before their return, 
 she slept, peacefully, happily such sleep as even in this life 
 " He giveth His beloved." 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 SUNDAY was rainy, and Ida was deprived of the opportunity 
 of judging whether Miss Arnold's church behaviour was as Mr. 
 Copeland had portrayed it. But she was to learn how just to 
 life another part of his description was. 
 
 The morning, yawned through in the other apartments, passed 
 swiftly in hers, in reading, study, and blessed communion with 
 her Heavenly Friend. 
 
 A low tap was heard at the door, and her "come in," an- 
 swered by Miss Arnold. 
 
 " Pray, keep your seat," said she, closing the door with a 
 shiver, as the cold draught from the passage blew over her ; " I 
 have ransacked the parlor book-case in vain for Sabbath reading, 
 and Alice said you could probably supply me." 
 
 " My little library is at your service," said Ida, parting the 
 curtains before a handsome set of shelves. 
 
 "You have quite an extensive collection;" remarked Miss 
 Arnold, patronisingly. She did not ask her to help her in the 
 selection, and Ida returned to her chair. Miss Arnold pulled out 
 one and another slowly, so as to consume as much time as pos- 
 sible in the occupation. Ida glanced up from time to time, to 
 see what choice she made. A modest volume, presented by Mr. 
 Lacy, stood near the centre of the top shelf; and she looked up 
 once as Miss Arnold was in the act of taking it down. She 
 watched her with suspended breath. She read the title and 
 title-page, and shutting it, raised her arm to replace it; but a 
 look of recollection flitted over her brow, and she re-opened it 
 at the fly-leaf. Ida dropped her eyes instantly to the page 
 before her, yet she saw as plainly as with her bodily organs of 
 vision, that after reading what was writ:en tbsre, "Miss Ida
 
 ALONE. -65 
 
 Boss, with the regards of M. L.," a gaze of keen inquisition rested 
 upon herself, that the inscription was thoughtfully examined, 
 then the subject matter of the book, which was afterwards 
 restored to its place, and with another, selected at hazard, her 
 visitor moved gracefully towards her. " You have been so kind 
 to me to us during our stay here, that I am encouraged to 
 beg an additional favor." 
 
 Her silvery voice had a new tone, and it was as if a malicious 
 spirit repeated to Ida, "If you are worth winning, she is 
 the tender, love-beseeching girl." Hitherto, her conduct had 
 afforded decisive evidence that she was not worth the trouble. 
 She drove the whisperer away and answered politely, 
 
 " I shall be happy to oblige you." 
 
 " Then may I stay with you awhile ? This is such a dear, 
 home-like nook, and it is so dreary out of doors, and not much 
 better down stairs, for Alice is drowsy, and Helen invisible." 
 
 Ida would have acceded to almost any other proposition more 
 readily, but she submitted with forced complaisance. 
 
 " Go on with your reading. I shall retire if I interrupt you ;" 
 continued Miss Arnold. 
 
 " I have been reading all the morning ;" said Ida, seeing that 
 the other's book was untouched. 
 
 " And won't my talking annoy you ?" cried Miss Arnold with 
 childish pleasure. " I have so longed to know you better to 
 get nearer to you ! Bear with me while I say it ; you are so 
 not exactly stern to me but so distant ! That it was not your 
 nature, I discovered from your demeanor to Alice. I could not 
 but love you for your goodness to her; and child that I am I 
 would have entreated you to care for me a little in return but 
 you froze the words upon my lips. I have cried over it after I 
 went to bed at night. Will you not tell me truly why you dis- 
 like me?" 
 
 The violet eyes were sparkling through tears. 
 
 "I was not aware that I was so frightful," replied Ida, 
 smiling. " My coldness was imaginary, or unintentional on my 
 part, Miss Arnold." 
 
 "There 1" said the beauty reproachfully; "it was < Alice' 
 before you had known her a day." 
 
 " Because wo were old schoolmates." 
 92
 
 266 ALONE. 
 
 "Strangers, nevertheless. Come, Ida be my friend will 
 you not?" 
 
 Could a false flirt copy Carry's look and tone so faithfully ? 
 and she kneeled upon the rug, as she had done on that November 
 night, when she said, "Love me, Ida!" She could not resist 
 the temptation to lay her lips against the snowy forehead, 
 beneath which those matchless eyes beamed with love and grati- 
 tude. She would have recoiled as that satiric whisper again ' 
 hissed through her heart; but the soft arms were around her 
 the beautiful head upon her shoulder. 
 
 "I am not the butterfly I seem, Ida; nor is the ephemera 
 gaiety, in which you see me floating, my proper sphere. I have 
 not your unwavering principle your independence; I cannot 
 of myself say to the world, <I hate your vain pageantry, and 
 pine for a nobler life !' Often, often I feel when the din of 
 pleasure is loudest, that I am bound to a wheel whose revolu- 
 tions I cannot control. Show me how to be happy." 
 
 "There is but one happiness which cannot die," said Ida, 
 with an effort. "You do not require that I should point you 
 to that !" 
 
 Her look of sorrowful deprecation was touching. " I know 
 what you mean," she replied, subduedly. " You would intimate, 
 that professing as I do, to be trying to lead a Christian's life, I 
 ought to be as familiar with the path as yourself; but I am a 
 child too much the toy of impulse and fancy. I have been a 
 pet from my infancy ; have leaned upon the judgment abided 
 by the decision of those I love ; and you cannot conceive of the 
 difliculty I have in acting for myself, and in opposition to their 
 wishes." 
 
 This was plausible. Ida wished from her inmost soul, that 
 she had never heard Richard Copeland's story, which, after all, 
 might have been coloured, if not sketched by prejudice, or 
 revenge for some slight to himself. She would have taken this 
 young girl, his betrothed, to her bosom, and soothed her fears, 
 :iad stimulated her failing resolves. But the conviction of her 
 heartlessness was too strong upon her; and her upright nature 
 forbade the assumption of an appearance of confidence she did 
 not feel. She spoke, indeed, as freely as she could of the lovo 
 pities and forgives our infirmities a-nd backsliding? ; but
 
 ALONE. 267 
 
 Lelia shook her head dejectedly. She " had not reached her 
 case. I thank you, though, and love you!" She drew her 
 cheek down to her lips. " Have you had much sorrow ?" 
 
 " Not more than falls to the lot of many, more deserving of 
 exemption. Why ?" 
 
 "Your serenity is BO remarkable; you seem never to have 
 suffered." 
 
 "The ocean is calm sometimes," said Ida, unconsciously. 
 
 " That is not your emblem," rejoined Lelia. " It is mine ; 
 ruffled by every breath dark in storms flashing and laughing 
 in sunshine always changing, yet always the same and, ah ! 
 who believes that there are treasures under the waters which are 
 worth the seeking?" 
 
 " The ocean is constant in nothing except change," said Ida. 
 
 " That is the surface I" she spoke exultingly 
 
 "The water is calm and still below; 
 
 For the winds and waves are absent there, 
 And the sands are bright as the stars that glow 
 In the motionless fields of upper air." 
 
 " Those are fine lines !" said Ida. They were recited with a 
 purity of tone and emphasis that lent them an additional charm. 
 
 " They are Percival's," was the reply. " I love poetry, if I 
 have not, like one of my friends, received the poetic afflatus. 
 Ah ! Improvisatrice ! did you think me ignorant of your glorious 
 gift?" 
 
 "You honour my petty talent by a higher name than it 
 aspires to earn. Your informant was given to exaggeration." 
 
 " You do not ask who it was !" cried Lelia, peeping into her 
 face. "Ah! that blush! you surmise. Now my demure dar- 
 ling, how will you excuse yourself for not having breathed his 
 name in my hearing, when you knew how deep my interest is in 
 all .relating to him or his connections?" 
 
 This query was ably turned ; but Ida's habitual self-control 
 ?aved her from the pitfall. She would know and confess 
 nothing. 
 
 And you dare look in my eyes and deny one of your best 
 friends ?" said Lelia. 
 
 "I deny no one. The merest acquaintance may have imparted 
 this information."
 
 268 ALONE 
 
 "It was not a casual acquaintance. Shall I name him?" 
 
 " If you choose," said Ida, with quickened pulsation. 
 
 " Then it was Mr. look at me ! Mr. Germaine !" 
 
 The blood flowed regularly again. Miss Arnold's ruse, if 
 such was intended, failed signally; and Ida shortly had cause to 
 congratulate herself upon the equanimity she had maintained 
 through the interview. 
 
 Leila's friendliness continued without abatement; and her 
 predilection for her society was openly manifested. She invited 
 her to walk on Monday afternoon, and was inconsolable for her 
 refusal until Richard Copeland offered himself as a substitute. 
 Alice rode out with Mrs. Read and Josephine; and Ida lay 
 down at dusk upon a sofa, within a recess of the parlor. She 
 soon dropped into a light slumber ; and thought that she was 
 dreaming still, when she heard voices, and saw, 'twixt sleeping 
 and waking, two figures, dimly visible in the fire-light. 
 
 "You are cruelly unjust, Richard. Why seize upon every 
 pretext to attack and wound one who never had an unkind 
 thought of you ?" 
 
 "Because I have no respect for you, Lelia," was the cool 
 rejoinder. " Your trifling is disgraceful inhuman \" 
 
 "I never trifled with you." 
 
 " For the best of reasons you never had the chance. You 
 will affirm too, that you did not design to coquet with Hilton 
 or Sheppard." 
 
 Their unhappiness was the fruit of their own blind folly." 
 
 "< Blind folly' it was to love a heartless woman! And this 
 Lacy are you retaining him as a corps de reserve f" 
 
 "He is nothing to me ." 
 
 An ejaculation of extreme disgust interrupted her. "Now this 
 is too much ! Do you think then that a solitary manosuvre has 
 been unnoticed by me? that I have not divined even the motive 
 of your altered behaviour to Miss Ross ? You have either 
 guessed or heard what has been told me within a day or two 
 that he was her lover last winter either discarded, or engaged 
 to her now. Have a care ! you may be foiled with your own 
 weapons! Adieu t" His mocking laugh rang through the 
 room. Lelia remained where he left her; the ruddy glare 
 lighting up features contorted by anger or grief. ' Can it be ?"
 
 ALONE. 269 
 
 ehc said " But, no !" she smiled, contemptuously. "A made- 
 up tale to work upon my jealousy ! That matters not at 
 present but this yet I am not discouraged he is the only 
 one !" and muttering over " He is the only one !" she lifted 
 her bonnet and shawl, and carried them from the apartment. 
 Astonishment had chained Ida's limbs and tongue after she 
 realised that she was awake. She grew weak and sick at the 
 accomplished duplicity of one so youthful, so faultless in 
 seeming; the windings of her arms about her neck her 
 kisses were like the coil and sting of a serpent. She detected 
 the artfulness of her pretended confidence ; her lures to inveigle 
 her into some embarrassment or admission which would betray 
 her acquaintance with Mr. Lacy. She had suspected her then ; 
 the change of manner followed too soon upon the recognition of 
 the handwriting. She rejoiced that the house was to be freed 
 of her on the morrow. If he could be warned ! but this was a 
 prohibited subject to thought as to words, and she was learning 
 how to govern both. There was a soiree that evening, and Ida 
 had never been more happy to see company. Alice and Lelia 
 came together to her room to say farewell, for they were both to 
 start early in the morning. She tried to treat them alike, but 
 her regrets at losing them were addressed to Alice ; and if they 
 were heartfelt, the sigh of relief, with which she turned the bolt 
 after them, was equally sincere. 
 
 The bridal festivities were not over until after Christmas, but 
 Ida avoided further participation in them by spending holiday 
 week at Mr. Dana's. She was invited expressly to meet Carry 
 and Arthur, and, although the precedence belonged to them, as 
 more unfrequent visitors, she was installed in the seat of honour 
 as chief guest. Carry inveighed against Mr. Read's marriage, 
 and was anxious to learn whether it would render her position 
 more unpleasant. Ida thought not : her heart said this could 
 hardly be, but she spoke hopefully of the wholesome check Mrs. 
 Read's elegant propriety would be upon Josephine's brusqueness. 
 " They will not agree at first, for Mrs. Read, if she does appear 
 too fond of her ease to contend, is not deficient in resolution ; 
 yet the end may be mutual endurance and forbearance. In any 
 event I shall remain neutral. Who knows, Carry, but, un- 
 promising as the field is, I may do as well as suffer, even there?" 
 23*
 
 270 ALONE. 
 
 They were alone in Carry's room. "There is one subject, 
 upon which I wish to speak to you;" said the latter, seriously. 
 " Has Arthur said anything to you of himself?" 
 
 " No not particularly." 
 
 He vas always too good for me," pursued Carry. " You 
 need not hold up your finger so threateningly but for a year 
 past, I felt that he was growing better, while I made no progress. 
 After we were married, I discovered that he was in the habit ot 
 the daily study of his Bible, and secret prayer. I did not hint 
 that I knew it, for it was too sacred a matter for mo to touch. 
 Ida ! I suffered ! he had a care which I could not share was ill 
 at ease, and I must not cheer him. When you wrote, recounting 
 the alteration of your views and prospects, he unsealed his heart 
 to me. He had long sought peace, without finding it; but 
 latterly, had experienced a glimmering hope he feared to divulge, 
 so faint was it that he was a child of Grod. I wept for joy and 
 grief joy, for I was sure, although he was not, that he was a 
 Christian; and grief at my own hardness of heart. His light^ 
 has burned brighter and brighter every day ; and he is prepared 
 now to avow it to his friends and the world. He says your 
 fearlessness, in declaring your principles, filled him with shame, 
 and urged him to emulate your example." 
 
 Here was one sheaf an earnest of whitening harvest. The 
 barrenness of opportunities for serving and honouring her 
 Redeemer, was a troublesome stumbling-block. Her sphere of 
 usefulness was so limited ; and she had talents, which might be 
 deployed to some purpose in a larger arena. The glowing zeal 
 of a young convert called for action. In a moment of discontent 
 with herself, and perhaps with her situation, she had expressed 
 this to Charley, who silenced her with one line 
 
 "'They also serve, who only stand and wait/" 
 
 The intelligence of Arthur's conversion was an unlooked-for and 
 refreshing element in her week's felicity. "Now, Charley, one 
 thing more I" she said, when they were talking it over. She 
 seldom made a pointed appeal, although he always took it kindly. 
 He did not reflect her smile he only said, gravely ; " You 
 cannot desire it more than I do, Ida." 
 
 Invigorated in soul and body, and with a bounteous store of
 
 A L ONE. 271 
 
 loviug memories heaped up for the time of famine, she sought 
 her uncongenial home. " Ah, well ! it's allers been my expe- 
 rience that molasses and water is mighty apt to sour, if it's kept; 
 and it don't deceive me now," remarked the oracular Rachel, 
 with the decline of the honeymoon. The metaphor was apt. 
 Mr. Head's fondness was the saccharine that qualified the insi- 
 pidity of his wife's apathy. He had been elevated to the 
 seventh heaven of ecstacy, at his triumph over a host of rivals, 
 younger than himself. Her evident preference had incited him 
 to the contest, and he had no misgivings of its reality. She was 
 '< a splendid woman I" He delighted in exhibiting her ; and 
 icaring this from all sides, with compliments and congratula- 
 tions to himself. But this renewal of youth was evanescent. 
 He had counted more than half a century she, not a quarter ; 
 and outraged nature revenged herself for his infatuation in striv- 
 ing to overleap this mighty gap. She was a " splendid woman !' ; 
 that was unquestionable; but as he mounted guard, from ten at 
 night to two or three o'clock in the morning against the wall of 
 the assembly-room, waiting for her to despatch the list of part- 
 ners that covered both sides of her tablets he tired and moped, 
 and stupidly wondering if the radiant creature, whose laugh came 
 to him with each whirl of the interminable waltz, were in truth 
 married, and 7iis wife ! it is problematical if he derived perma- 
 nent consolation from the well-timed praises of his old friends, 
 who facetiously inquired if he were not "jealous of his pretty 
 bird" or felt greatly flattered by the fine things, comparative 
 strangers were saying about " his daughter." She was a " splen- 
 did woman !" and she shone most at the largest party of the 
 winter, where everybody danced (she most sylph-like of all) 
 except the papas and mammas, and the "past-worthy" chaperons. 
 The rooms were hot : the dancers must have air the window? 
 were robbed of their sashes. Mr. Read was in a draught what 
 of that 1 the reflection of his wife's splendor should have warmed 
 him. She was not uncomfortable ; so she glided and pirouetted 
 and swam by in the polka, and he shook as if he were afflicted 
 with a dance of quite another name. An attack of inflammatory 
 rheumatism was the finale. His life was in danger for awhile: 
 and to his wife's credit, be it said, she nursed him dutifully, ii 
 not affectionately, until he entered upon his convalescence.
 
 272 ALONE. 
 
 A few morning8 after the doctors announced his safety, Ida 
 observed, at breakfast, that Mrs. Read was looking badly. 
 
 " Confinement in a sick-room does not agree with you, I fear," 
 said she, with interest. "We must not let you fall ill, too. 
 Will you not delegate one of us to represent you this forenoon, 
 while you take a ride?" 
 
 " Constant attendance is unnecessary," she replied. " Here- 
 after, I shall not stay in doors as I have been doing. I thank 
 you for your offer, however. If I can avail myself of it, I will 
 do so." 
 
 " Why did he not come down to breakfast ?" asked Josephine, 
 ironically. 
 
 " He cannot leave his bed;" was the calm reply. 
 
 " Nor turn himself in it, I believe, madam ?" 
 
 " You are right." 
 
 " It must cost you a pang to surrender to another the privi- 
 lege of allaying his pains, and paying those endearing little 
 attentions, to which affection imparts such sweetness. How can 
 you think of it?" 
 
 " I do not consider my health unimportant." 
 
 "Not in comparison with his?" continued Josephine, pro- 
 vokingly. 
 
 " The duty is not rendered less imperative by any compari- 
 son." 
 
 " The pursuit of pleasure and ease is included in this prudent 
 care of yourself, I presume, madam?" 
 
 " In that, as in everything else, I shall consult my own incli- 
 nations." 
 
 " I did not know that a woman had a will of her own after 
 she married," retorted Josephine. 
 
 "I am not conscious of having lost my volition or free, 
 agency." 
 
 " And acting upon this unbiassed volition, you will occupy 
 your box at the theatre to-night. I saw a ticket upon the table 
 in the parlor." 
 
 " I shall be there ; but there will be room for you, and what- 
 ever friend you honor by accompanying." 
 
 " And this is conjugal devotion !" the suppressed wrath boil- 
 ing over, " After cajoling a feeble old man into marrying you,
 
 ALONE. 273 
 
 you desert him upon a bed of languishing, where he is laid by 
 your follies, to flirt with your train of gallants in the most public 
 place in the city I" 
 
 " If you have more remarks of like import to make, I will 
 hear them in your father's presence, Miss Head," answered the 
 unruffled step-mother. " Miss Ida, please excuse my withdraw- 
 ing before you have finished your breakfast." 
 
 Josephine had emphatically picked this quarrel. She had 
 received no provocation, and combined with this disadvantage, 
 that of loss of temper. Chafing with anxiety to commence the 
 warfare she had declared, she was too eager to wait for a pretext; 
 and had plunged into a rash conflict, before estimating the 
 strength of the enemy's forces. Ida said nothing, until she was 
 ready to leave the room. She deemed it her duty to speak. 
 
 " Josephine," said she, mildly, " it is not my place to dictate 
 to you; but as a well-wisher, I warn you not to carry this 
 further. Constant dissension will be the only result. She is 
 inclined to live peaceably with you; and she will be a dangerous, 
 a powerful enemy." 
 
 " Have I asked your advice ?" said Josephine. Her scowl dis- 
 suaded Ida from a second remonstrance. In reckless audacity, 
 she proceeded straight to her father's chamber. It was pitiable 
 to see that gray-haired man helpless as infancy with disease, 
 and remember that his frayed thread of life was entwisted with 
 the golden cord of hers, who had barely attained the meridian of 
 her early womanhood. 
 
 Josephine's visits had been rare and brief, and his salutation 
 was surly. " To what am I indebted for this superlative plea- 
 sure?" he inquired, stretching his upper lip across his teeth, as 
 was his wont, when displeased. 
 
 " If I had supposed that my presence was conducive to your 
 comfort, no consideration should have detained me from you 
 sir," was the meaning rejoinder. 
 
 He did not answer, but moved uneasily, and asked his wife 
 for water. The goblet was nearest Josephine, and she held it 
 to him. "Lift my head I" he said, fretfully, "Ugh ! you hurt 
 me! this comes of your officiousness. Why couldn't you let Jiei 
 doit?"
 
 274 ALONE. 
 
 " 1 regret, sir, that my unskilful touch is painful/' said Jose- 
 phine, " since you are to be dependent upon my cares." 
 
 "What the deuce are you talking about?" he demanded, 
 sharply. 
 
 The slumberous eyes surveyed her listlessly over the couch. 
 
 "My speech is blunt, sir; I learned it from you, and I hava 
 an inconvenient practice of saying what I think. Old men, -who 
 have young and fashionable wives, should not indulge in the 
 luxury of sickness. What woman, who has a right appreciation 
 of her charms, can hesitate what course to pursue, when a 
 decrepid husband is put in one scale society and a score of 
 beaux in the other ?" 
 
 His glare of impotent fury was demoniacal he was too weak 
 to control it. The liquid eyes were dreamy and motionless still. 
 The irascible old man jerked his head so that he could see her 
 face " Helen ! what is that girl driving at ?" 
 
 " She can best explain herself, sir." 
 
 " Speak!" he commanded, at the top of his tremulous voice. 
 
 " I hope you have made your will, sir ;" said Josephine, 
 deliberately. 
 
 "By my life, I will do it, and cut you off, without a copper, 
 if you parley much more !" 
 
 " You virtually severed our connection two months ago, sir. 
 A stranger has supplanted me in your heart and house ; and up 
 to this time, I have held my peace. This is my revenge. Your 
 idol, having used you for her pleasure and advancement, does not 
 mean that this sickness, caused by your doating indulgence, 
 shall fetter her dainty limbs. On the contrary, it frees her from 
 the restraint of your observation, the incumbrance of your 
 attentions." 
 
 She dropped each word slowly, purposely to aggravate his 
 impatience, which was now frightful. Manacled, bound down 
 by the fiery bands of his malady, he writhed, as upon a Procrus- 
 tean bed. 
 
 " Helen ! speak ! tell her she lies !" 
 
 " I never reply to inuendoes, sir." The eyes were passionless 
 as ever. 
 
 She is gentlenesH and patience personified," said Josephine
 
 ALONE. 275 
 
 " Ask whom she will accompany to the theatre to-night and pray 
 her, your faithful wife to stay with you." 
 
 "The theatre!" he uttered. "Are you going, and with 
 whom ?" 
 
 " With Mr. and Miss Talbot ;" and save that she fastened 
 her gaze upon him, instead of her, she looked and spoke the 
 
 " The < Miss,' is an adroit addenda," sneered Josephine. 
 
 Her father was silent. His selfishness was wounded. He 
 was angered and mortified that his wife should consign him to 
 the care of others and find enjoyment in gay recreations, while 
 he lay crippled and racked; but he detected the spring of Jose- 
 phine's interference, and pride cried loudly that her impertinent 
 malice should be punished. A study of his wife's determined 
 face settled the point. If they differed, the mischief-maker should 
 not know it. Hark you !" said he, with sudden composure. 
 " I see your game, my lady, and you may as well throw up your 
 cards. I am master in my house, and there is no law against 
 turning you out of it. I thought I had taught you this already. 
 I have a piece of advice, you will do well to bear in mind. 
 Attend to your own business, and let your betters alone. Now, 
 be off! and don't let me see you again until you can behave 
 yourself." 
 
 " I obey you, sir. If you want my services, I trust you will 
 send for me." 
 
 Mr. Eead was awkwardly embarrassed, when left with his 
 wife. Domineering and stubborn as he was, she awed him. 
 Her haughty endurance of his foolish fondness gave him no lien 
 upon her affections ; and the sang-froid, she had preserved under 
 Josephine's insolence, was a bad augury of the efficacy of 
 reproaches. She consulted her watch, and informed him that it 
 was the hour for his medicine ; administered it, and shook up 
 his pillow. 
 
 " Helen," said he, coaxingly, " are you in earnest about leaving 
 me? What shall I do ?" 
 
 " Sarah will wait upon you. I have the utmost confidence in 
 her fidelity." 
 
 " "But what is a servant's nursing, after yours?" 
 
 " It is a pity you entertain this repugnance to every one's
 
 276 ALONE. 
 
 attentions but mine. My health and spirits are injured by 
 fatigue and want of rest. You are recovering, there is no abso- 
 lute necessity for my remaining with you ; and it is necessary 
 that I should take care of myself. We had best suspend this 
 discussion, Mr. Read. You have been too much excited this 
 morning ; and arguments are useless, as my plans are made." 
 
 And " my plans are made" became the law of the household, 
 Josephine excepted, who had her schemes also. There was an 
 ominous calm. Mr. Read mended gradually. His daughter's 
 resentment outlived his ; but his pride was as inflexible as hers. 
 She would not enter his chamber, and he would not recall her. 
 His wife performed mechanically a routine of duties, self-enjoined, 
 as covering all that could be required of her. The residue of her 
 time was devoted to the world, out of which, she did not seem 
 to live. She held her position as leader of the ton. She was 
 the best-bred, best-dressed, and best-educated woman of her 
 circle. No party was complete without her ; and none vied with 
 hers, in elegance and agreeableness. People gossipped, and 
 prophecied, and pitied her "poor old husband" courted and 
 aped her. Ida had made a public profession of her faith, and was 
 humbly " waiting." Her health did not now debar her from 
 mingling in society ; and she could discern neither wisdom nor 
 piety in a hermit's life. Her re-appearance amongst them was 
 hailed with acclamations by most of her acquaintances. Some 
 were shy for a time, thanks to Josephine's exposition of her 
 " strait-laced notions ;" but her cheerful frankness banished their 
 reserve ; and if not so noisily admired, she was more beloved 
 than in her palmy days. 
 
 She was one evening at a " sociable" at Mrs. Morris', the 
 cynosure of a group, the liveliest in the room, for it comprised 
 Ellen, Mr. Thornton, Charley, Mr. Germaine, Mr. Villet, and 
 Richard Copeland. Charley was relating an amusing story ; and 
 Ida's peculiarly contagious laugh created as much merriment as 
 the anecdote. 
 
 " Miss Ross is ever happy," said Mr. Villet. " Your being 
 devoid does not make you sad, morose comme d I ordinaire." 
 
 A glance of apprehension was exchanged by some of the circle ; 
 and Ida colored, as she replied, smiling, I do not know why it 
 should, Mr. Villet,"
 
 ALONE. 277 
 
 The Frenchman shrugged his shoulders : " Nor I ! I do not 
 comprehend these affairs myself, but it is usual, I believe, for the 
 visible visage to elongate with the expansion of the gu'est ce ^ 
 gue c'est? grace in the soul." 
 
 There was a laugh. Charley and Ida were grave ; and Mr. 
 Villet's politeness took the alarm. " I entreat your pardon, 
 Miss Ross ; I did not meditate an offence." 
 
 "You have given none," answered she. " You would not 
 knowingly make sport of what you must respect. Religion is 
 not gloomy, nor is it ridiculous." 
 
 " Its professors, with some honorable exceptions, are one or 
 the other," said Richard. 
 
 "This is their misfortune or failing, not the fault of the 
 system," returned Ida. " Mortal nature is fallible, Mr. Cope- 
 land." 
 
 " You admit it, then ?" said Mr. Thornton. The greatest 
 objection I have to pious people is that they do not permit this 
 indulgence to abused human nature. They wind themselves up 
 in their impenetrable cloaks of sanctification and perfectionism, 
 and send us no matter where for hankering after innocent 
 amusements. And if one of their caste beats time to a merry 
 tune, or shows his head inside of a theatre, he is run down as 
 if he had the hydrophobia. Such sermons as they preach about 
 the hand or foot offending ! It would be a wise precaution, in 
 my judgment, to make the amputation of the feet part of the 
 ceremony of initiation into church membership. You are superior 
 to such narrow-mindedness, I hope, Miss Ida ?" 
 
 " If < narrow-mindedness' signifies drawing a distinct line of 
 demarcation between the church and the world, I shall come 
 under your lash, Mr. Thornton." 
 
 "And do you, candid and liberal as you are, declare that 
 there is sin mind you ! a ' want of conformity to, or transgres- 
 sion of the law of Grod' in moving through a certain form ol 
 steps to the sound of music ?" said he, indignantly. 
 
 " I do not profess to see sin in the mere act of dancing," 
 replied Ida; "but I do not wish to argue, Mr. Thornton. If 
 nothing else forbade my joining in the amusement, it is prohi- 
 bited by the church to which I belong." 
 
 " Worse and worse ! Miss Ida, this is unworthy of you. It 
 24
 
 278 ALONE. 
 
 is the Papal doctrine of depositing one's conscience in the priest's 
 pocket book. If your church commanded you to steal or kill, 
 would you obey '{" 
 
 " No ; for a higher law forbids it. I am bound to follow the 
 church only so far as it follows the Bible." 
 
 " But the Bible says there is a time to dance." 
 
 Ida smiled ; " I am surprised," said she, " that sensible per 
 sons should quote that poor text so frequently, as authority for 
 dancing. In the same connection we read, < there is a time to 
 kill ;' you would be loath to defend a murderer who justified 
 his crime by an appeal to this passage. 'A time to die;' who 
 sees in this permission to shorten his days ?" 
 
 " And you must turn pavier, Thornton, because ' there is a 
 time to gather stones together,' " said Charley. 
 
 There was another laugh, in which Mr. Thornton joined 
 good-humoredly. " Weak as my text is, I am consoled by the 
 knowledge that you cannot produce one interdicting that which 
 reason and observation teach is not reprehensible." 
 
 " Not an explicit prohibition, perhaps," answered she, hesi- 
 tating. 
 
 " Well an implied one, then ?'' 
 
 Ida's cheeks flushed, painfully, but her voice was firm as she 
 said, I read, < Be ye not conformed to the world ;' and < What- 
 soever ye do, do all to the honor and glory of Grod, 7 and my 
 conscience says I would be guilty of wilful disobedience to the 
 written commandment, and dishonor my profession, if I disre- 
 garded the plain meaning of these words/' 
 
 Charley had bided his time. She stood the test well, and he 
 came in to the rescue. " She is right, Thornton. You and I 
 know it why dispute it ? Only yesterday, you were laughing 
 at the inconsistency of the < dancing Christians' you frolicked 
 with down the country." 
 
 " I commended their liberality, their freedom from supersti- 
 tion," interposed Thornton, still laughing. 
 
 " Humbug ! you said < they have found a road to the Celes- 
 tial City, which our orthodox brethren about here do not patron- 
 ise ; have graded and widened the strait and narrow way we 
 read of, until it is as smooth as a ball-room floor ; and dance up 
 the shining route. I used to think some preparation was requi-
 
 ALONE. 279 
 
 - site, before I could be fitted for heaven ; but I am comforted in 
 spirit since meeting them. My chance is as good as theirs in 
 the long run.' Those were your very words deny them if you 
 can, or that you were ridiculing them. You are, like myself, 
 more than a Sabbath-day's journey from being a Christian ; and 
 you assert that they are not much better off. The plain English 
 of which is, that you are consistent to your professions ; they 
 say they believe one thing, and practise the opposite. Pretend- 
 ing to despise the vanities of this life, they pursue them more 
 eagerly than the things which are unseen and eternal. If a man 
 unites himself with the church, let him live as if he were changed. 
 I go to the threatre, although I do not consider it the best school 
 of morals one can frequent) but it grieves me to see, in my 
 neighbor, a so-called pious man. I am ashamed for him my 
 respect for the reputation of his church is greater than his. I 
 dance and sleep afterwards with an easy conscience ; but if you 
 ever see me ' tripping on the light fantastic toe,' with an angelic 
 creature who is a communicant in a Bible-reading sect, you may 
 write it down as an immutable fact, that she asked me not I 
 her !" 
 
 Charley was lawless. Nobody criticised or was offended with 
 him; and Ida was always certain of finding in him, an ally and 
 advocate ; but grateful as she was for his ready aid, upon occa- 
 sions like the present, she prized more highly the counsels, 
 which his knowledge of mankind, and his undeviating sense of 
 rectitude qualified him to give. She had faults, he pointed 
 them out; she erred in judgment, he corrected the evil as far 
 as he could. The spectacle of his daily life was useful. He 
 possessed almost boundless influence over his associates, and 
 their attachment to him was close and strong. They under- 
 stood, intuitively, the worth of the inner man, never fully 
 unveiled to the majority of them, and could not but admire and 
 esteem. And Ida's constant thought of him was "If he, call- 
 ing himself unconverted, accomplishes so much what ought 
 not I a Christian, to attempt ?"
 
 280 ALONE. 
 
 CHAPTEE XXIV. 
 
 MR. HEAD was in his private sitting-room; it adjoined his 
 chamber, and his longest walk was from one apartment to the 
 other. The sun beamed cheerfully through the damask curtains, 
 and the fire blazed and crackled in the grate ; but wrapped 
 in his wadded dressing-gown, his feet sunk heavily into a 
 cushion, and his face contracted into a fretful frown, he appeared 
 to be enduring the extreme of cold and discomfort. He was a 
 sorry picture of a three months' bridegroom. His surroundings 
 were tasteful and luxurious, books and papers and pictures and 
 handsome furniture, and at his elbow stood a silver hand-bell, 
 whose tongue would bring an obsequious servant, ready to per- 
 form his bidding ; yet his sigh, as he 'fidgeted uneasily in his 
 downy fauteuil, was a groan of repining. "Like a jaded old 
 hack! they won't knock him in the head, in consideration of 
 past services ; but he may die as soon as he can the quicker the 
 better !" 
 
 " The Northern papers have come, sir, and I thought you 
 would like to see them;" said a gentle voice. It was his ward. 
 A grunt and a gesture bade her put them upon the stand. 
 
 " Are you in pain this afternoon ?" she asked, sympathizingly. 
 
 " I am always in pain !" 
 
 " Can I do anything for you ?" 
 
 " No \" He reached for the papers ; but a twinge in his shoulder 
 forced him to drop them. Ida picked them up. The desolate 
 old man excited her sincerest pity. 
 
 " It must weary you, holding those large sheets ; and the print 
 is fine. If you will designate the articles you wish read, I will 
 do it for you with pleasure." 
 
 The offer was tempting, although its acceptance was ungra- 
 cious. He pointed to a piece, and she removed her bonnet and 
 seated herself near him. He did not inquire if she were going 
 out, and she did not make her sacrifice meritorious in his eyes, 
 by informing him that she gave up her walk to minister to hia 
 enjoyment. She read well ; her voice was exquisitely modu-
 
 ALONE. 281 
 
 lated; her enunciation perfect ; Mr. Read forgot to be peevish, 
 and his corrugated forehead lost half its wrinkles. When she 
 ceased, he seemed to have been lulled by a strain of music. The 
 article selected was an editorial leader on political economy, 
 unintelligible and prosy to Ida; but she endeavored not to let this 
 appear. He nodded, and stripped the envelope from another 
 sheet. His eye gleamed, and with an approach to a smile, he 
 showed her six columns of an oration ; a grand effort of the 
 immortal sage of Marshfield. Ida was appalled at the superficies 
 of the solid mass, but she said over to herself, a verse she had 
 lisped at her mother's knee. 
 
 " Did I this day, for small or great, 
 
 My own pursuits forego, 
 To lighten, by a feather's weight, 
 
 The load of human woe?" 
 
 and began the terrible undertaking. The preamble over, she 
 became insensibly interested. Her soul-lit face and ringing in- 
 tonations supplied to the auditor, the actual presence of the 
 orator; he looked and listened until the light failed; then 
 rang for candles. Mrs. Read, returning from her airing, seated 
 herself silently by the fire. It was the prettiest domestic scene 
 that had ever been witnessed in that house; and how little 
 reality was there in its air of home-happiness I 
 
 " Is that all ?" asked Mr. Read, at supper-time. 
 
 " Almost, sir. I can soon finish it. I will not detain you Mrs. 
 Head." But she waited to hear the conclusion. A gruff "Thank 
 you," was Ida's only reward, besides the praise of her conscience; 
 and her tired throat obliged her to refuse Charley his favorite 
 song that night, but she did not repent. She volunteered her 
 services whenever she knew that there were new books or journals, 
 and at length, the latest intelligence was distasteful, unless it 
 came through her lips. It was a selfish gratification ; and she 
 did not delude herself with illusions of personal attachment. She 
 strove to live for the benefit and pleasure of her fellow-beings ; to 
 leave her interest and ease out of sight; and she could not have 
 been in a better school. The woman's heart was not still. There 
 were moments of weariness and longing, and passionate regrets. 
 The soul, refusing the realities, which made up the sum of every- 
 day duty, pined for the remembered "Dream Land ;" its retreat, 
 24*
 
 282 ALONE. 
 
 and the scene of its holiday revels ; and when the aching and 
 thirst were at their height, it was a trial to smile at a caress from 
 Mrs. Dana, or a friendly act of Charley's dear and thoughtful 
 brother! when she could have rested her tired head. upon the 
 kind bosom, and wept her life away but she did smile, and 
 bore up bravely until God gave her strengh to rise above the 
 weakness. 
 
 The Sabbath was a season of delight. A band of little girls 
 watched eagerly for her at Sabbath-school. Inclement indeed 
 must the day be, that saw their form vacant ; for she was always 
 at her post, and regarded snow and rain as minor hindrances 
 when her flock nestled closely to " dear Miss Ida." No class 
 loved their teacher and their Bible so well as hers; her co-labo- 
 rers said she had a secret spell, by which she won and governed 
 them; and she had, for she was ever mindful that she had 
 another account to render than her report to the Superinten- 
 dent, and prayed that it might be " Those whom Thou gavest 
 me, I have kept, and none of them is lost." She loved her 
 pastor ; but her acquaintance with him was slight. He visited her 
 at stated times, and esteemed her an " amiable girl, with a credit- 
 able fund of general information ;" he "could not know the exer- 
 cises of all his members ;" and that a woman whose life was so 
 uncheckered, should have any difficulties and sorrows, but such 
 as are incidental to the experience of every Christian, never 
 crossed his brain. But he was a faithful expounder of the Scrip- 
 tures; and if he did not remark the changeful light of the eyes, 
 which never released him from the text to the " Amen" of his 
 discourse; she felt that consolations and advice so applicable, 
 must be meant for her ; and remembered him in her orisons, as 
 a Shepherd who eared for his sheep, and selected for each, food 
 convenient for him. She resolved repeatedly, to thank him for 
 his fidelity; but her courage melted when the opportunity 
 arrived ; and she would rebuke the vanity that bred the desire. 
 She read that in the primitive church, " those who loved the Lord, 
 spake often to one another ;" and imagined, in her simplicity, 
 that such intercourse would be of mutual comfort and profit ; 
 yet a seal was upon her mouth, und she waited and wished in 
 vain, for a word in the conversation of her brethren, which would 
 dissolve it. It was strange that she could speak freely and
 
 ALONE. 283 
 
 heartily to Carry and to Charley, and be restrained by the pre- 
 sence of those, who had tasted like joys were bound upon the 
 same pilgrimage as herself. 
 
 There was an exception a minister from another State, with 
 whom she once dined at Mr. Dana's ; a merry-hearted, whole- 
 souled man, whose store of anecdote and pleasantry enlivened the 
 company at table ; and after dinner, gathering from a passing 
 remark, that she was a professing Christian, he sought her out ; 
 and while the rest, were busy about other matters, they were 
 talking of the " peace which passeth understanding," and the 
 home in preparation for them ; not with austere gravity, but, 
 easily and happily, as befitted a topic so inspiriting. They sepa- 
 rated not to meet again in time ; and Ida went on her way, 
 cheered and strengthened by the interview, and hoping to thank 
 him in heaven, for the seed he had sowed by the wayside not 
 in the Scriptural sense of the term. 
 
 Mr. Read's disease assumed a chronic type. Some days well 
 enough to transact business in person, then relapsing, in con- 
 sequence of trifling exposure or change of weather, his existence 
 was a series of anxieties und sufferings. Ida did not know how 
 she became his nurse ; Josephine would not endure his petulance, 
 and her retorts exasperated him ; and his wife was too deep in 
 the vortex of fashionable life to waste many minutes upon him ; 
 it was unjust and unfeeling to abandon him to the care of menials; 
 and as with her reading, what was a favor, voluntarily offered, 
 came to be regarded as a duty, expected and unrequited. The 
 Dauas objected to this thankless sacrifice; but she persisted. 
 It was during one of his worst spells, that an incident occurred, 
 which she did not heed at the time, but when recalled by sub- 
 sequent events, was fraught with meaning. It was in the evening ; 
 and she was on her way to the dining-room, to order a cup of 
 tea for the invalid, when the light streaming through a crack in 
 the parlor-door suggested the probability that the servant she was 
 in quest of, was lighting the lamps in there. She pushed the 
 door open. Mrs. Read was in the middle of the room, her face 
 averted, and her arm extended in repulsion or denial, towards 
 a tall, dark man, who was speaking in a low, excited tone. 
 " ( Forget I' I do not forget that circumstances are not what they 
 were then !" was all that Ida heard, as she retired hastily and
 
 284 ALONE. 
 
 unseen. As she passed through the entry, she caught a noise, like 
 the rustle of drapery, but supposed it to be the waving of her 
 dress in the wind. Mr. Read was in agony; and Ida sent to 
 request Dr. Ballard's immediate presence. The messenger's 
 steps were not cold upon the stairs, when the sick man tor- 
 mented himself with impatience for the physician's arrival. 
 
 " If the servant had a pass, it was not signed if it was signed, 
 he had lost it if he had lost it, Ballard would wait to eat his 
 supper, before he came. I wish he had this shooting fire through 
 his limbs ! It would put 'some speed into his lazy body ! Ah ! 
 there he is!" 
 
 It was Mrs. Read, who meeting the servant with the tea, and 
 hearing of her husband's state, had taken it from him. Ida, 
 pre-occupied as she was, noticed that she was pale and agitated. 
 Her voice too, was tremulous, and had a cadence that might have 
 been mistaken for tenderness. 
 
 " I grieve to see you so much worse. Drink this, it may 
 relieve you," she said, slipping her hand under his pillow to raise 
 his head. Ida sprang forward to arrest the movement. He was 
 Buffering excruciating pain in his neck ; and frantic at its aug- 
 mentation by this change of position, he dashed the cup to the 
 floor, with a shocking oath. 
 
 " You want to kill me ! I've seen that for a long time ; and 
 then you can flaunt to your heart's content. You can marry 
 whom you please, and make him rich with my money, like the 
 shameless wretch you are I" he yelled, distractedly. 
 
 The smothered fire leaped high the dark eye blazed with 
 wrath, but she uttered not a sound, as she turned from him. Ida 
 had never seen such a look in mortal face, and wild with fear 
 of, she know not what, darted after her, and overtook her in- the 
 dressing-room. 
 
 " Oh ! do not ! do not !" she exclaimed, flinging her arms 
 around the stately form. 
 
 "Do not what?" said the lady, trying to unlock her fingers. 
 Ida held her fast. 
 
 " Oh ! the horrible thing that is in your thoughts ! He is 
 mad with pain he did not mean did not think what he did. 
 He says as hard things to me, to every one but he loves you ! 
 he does love you!" and dropping her head upon the lady's breast,
 
 ALONE 285 
 
 she sobbed like a child. The haughty woman stood irresolute 
 passive in the tenacious grasp of the over-excited girl. 
 
 " He drove me from him struck me I" she said, in thick 
 accents. (( Why should I stay ?" 
 
 It was rather a soliloquy than a question, and Ida reiterated, 
 " He did not mean it ! he loves you !" 
 
 " Do you love him?" inquired the lady, lifting her face, and 
 gazing piercingly into it. 
 
 " I pity him," said Ida. 
 
 " Do you hate him ?" she asked, more energetically. 
 
 " JSfo, I hate no one." 
 
 " Yet you have cause." 
 
 "I try to forgive." 
 
 "You do not hate him!" repeated Mrs. Head; and again to 
 herself, she added, "/do!" 
 
 Ida let her go. " I pity him !" she said, with mournful 
 earnestness, "but I pity you more! doomed to a life of false- 
 hood and misery ! Heaven pity you as I do." 
 
 " Stay !" said Mrs. Head, as she would have gone back to the 
 chamber.-. "Do you despise me utterly? Am I lost?" 
 
 " <Lost!' no while life and reason last, there may be room 
 for repentance." 
 
 "Repentance ! what had she, so queenly in her pride and beauty, 
 to do with repentance? yet the words seemed to strike her. 
 Mr. Read's querulous tones called "Ida!" "I must go," she 
 said. " Will you come ?" 
 
 " Not now presently." 
 
 The patient was slumbering heavily under the influence of the 
 medicine Dr. Ballard prescribed, when his wife rejoined her 
 assistant nurse lofty and unimpressible. She regarded the 
 sleeper long and fixedly. His hair was nearly white, and his 
 features pinched by sickness, but there was no softening of com- 
 passion in the rigid lines of her face. Setting her chair into the 
 shade, she was speechless and motionless for hours. They watched 
 him together all night j exchanging only brief remarks as to his 
 situation, and the remedies to be employed. He rallied from 
 this seizure, and Ida was as far from the brilliant worldling as 
 before. 
 
 An unexpected event attracted her from the retirement in
 
 286 ALONE. 
 
 which her charitable functions had secluded her. Celestia Pratt 
 was married ! and to Ellen's chagrin, to a cousin of the Morris 
 family. He was good-looking, ambitious and poor; she sus- 
 ceptible a "Representative's" daughter, and rich. He wrote to 
 his aunt that they would take Richmond in the wedding-tour; 
 and she was obliged, nolens volens, to give them a party. Ida 
 was disinclined to attend; but Ellen's solicitations conquered 
 her reluctance. Mr. Cranleigh, the groom, was gentlemanly, even 
 handsome, and accepted the customary greetings with as much 
 complacency, as though his wife were not, as Ellen groaned to 
 Ida " Celestia, unmitigated Celestia !" 
 
 " A penny for your thoughts !" said Ida, tapping Charley's 
 arm with her fan. 
 
 " I was thinking what falsehoods geologists tell us about the 
 thickness of the crust of the earth, and how many years the 
 mines of Peru have been worked." 
 
 "A profound subject for deep meditation, but I am at a 
 loss" 
 
 "Why, allowing a thousand brides a week in the civilized 
 world, (and there are quadruple that number,) according to my 
 rough computation, the miners ought to be within hail of the 
 Chinese, or whatever nation is the antipodes of the Peruvians, 
 by this time." 
 
 " Their kindred craft, the jewellers, have been called upon by 
 the Celestia-ls," said Mr. Thornton. 
 
 " 'Pon my word !" remarked Pemberton to Josephine, " I 
 have heard of men who married < for pretty/ but it's my opinion, 
 Cranleigh married for ugly." 
 
 Josephine laughed, but her attention was absorbed by some 
 object in another part of the room. " You know everybody," 
 said she ; " who is that gentleman talking with the bride ?" 
 
 He knew everybody, and this must be nobody. He had 
 certainly seen him somewhere before it might have been at 
 Newport or perhaps in New Orleans, yet he could not call his 
 name. Why did she inquire ? 
 
 " A question by the way she was not curious. He had a 
 foreign air, and she fancied might be one of Mr. Pemberton'a 
 friends he had so many abroad."
 
 ALONE. 287 
 
 He had, and it would be awkward not to recollect him, if he 
 should speak. 
 
 " There's Cranleigh ! he knows !" 
 
 The stranger's name was Ashlin, an early acquaintance of 
 Mrs. Cranleigh's, and later from the "West Indies. 
 
 " Had he resided there long ?" Miss Head asked. 
 
 " Two years nearly three, indeed." 
 
 Mr. Ashlin wfls graceful and distingut, and Ida was attacked 
 by an unaccountable curiosity. She interrogated the bride. 
 
 " What handsome man was that, you were conversing with, 
 awhile ago, Celestia?" 
 
 Her face was broad with smiles. " Law ! why Mr. Cranleigh, 
 my husband, to be sure ! Haven't you been introduced ? Here ! 
 Mr. Gran" 
 
 " Oh ! don't !" said Ida. " I know him don't interrupt 
 him ! I alluded to that tall gentleman by the folding-doors." 
 
 " That's Mr. Ashlin. He used to live close by Pa's ; and 
 then his uncle died out in Cuba or "West India, I forget which 
 and he went off there, where he's been three years, rolling in 
 money they say. He's mighty smart too Tm 'most afraid of 
 him. Don't he look like a-a-cannibal 1" said Mrs. Cranleigh, 
 some reminiscence of New Zealand history coming to her help. 
 
 " His is a dark beauty, certainly," replied Ida, hiding a smile. 
 " I should say if he had not lived abroad, that I had seen his 
 face somewhere else." 
 
 "You needn't be setting your cap !" retorted the bride, spite- 
 fully. " He won't be so easy caught as that Mr. Euston, you all 
 think such an Adolphus. He's engaged." 
 
 Ah ! who is the fortunate lady ?" 
 
 A Miss Courtland, or some such name ; that is he was 
 engaged once, but, seems to me, I've heard that he jilted her, 
 and she married a rich old man for his < tin/ " 
 
 " What did you call her ? Speak lower !" said Ida. 
 
 "Law ! you're scared ! what ails you?" 
 
 " Nothing nothing !" laughing. " You had as well be silent 
 about this Mr. Ashlin, he has quick ears, and gentleman do 
 not admire gossiping ladies. You have a splendid bouquet is 
 this Mr. Cranleigh's taste?" 
 
 And while the history of the courtship, from their meeting at
 
 288 ALONE. 
 
 the " Sulphur Springs" to the present glorification, was pouring 
 upon her tympanum, she was arguing away her unjustifiable 
 suspicions. His general appearance was that of the gentleman 
 she had a glimpse of in Mr. Read's parlor; and Mrs. Read's 
 behaviour that evening was so extraordinary as to give colour to 
 the story ; But Celestia always garbled the simplest narrations, 
 murdering names and jumbling facts, until it was next to impos- 
 sible to arrive at the truth. A three years' absence, too ! How 
 nonsensical she was ! Her fears returned, however, with rein- 
 forcements, when he attached himself to Mrs. Read's cordon of 
 admirers. These were not all young men. Elderly gentlemen, 
 who had not lost their eye for fair faces, and taste for repartee, 
 were recipients of as gracious welcomes as were apportioned to 
 their youthful rivals ; and sagacious damsels, of doubtful belle- 
 ship and charms, crept beneath the wings of her popularity, 
 large enough to shelter a female favorite or so. Mr. Ashlin 
 entered the outmost precincts of this circle, and by imperceptible 
 advances penetrated to the centre of attraction. Mrs. Read 
 flushed slightly, with surprise or displeasure, as he established 
 himself by her side ; but nothing intimidated, he presently 
 usurped the management of the conversation ; holding up some 
 to ridicule so cleverly that they had only themselves to blame, 
 and did not suspect his agency j flattering others, until they 
 dropped off like surfeited leeches ; and angering some so openly, 
 that Ida, who was near enough to get an inkling of what was 
 transpiring, was assured that ho was playing for a rich stake. 
 His purpose was effected ; he had a clear field ; and with no 
 alteration of manner, unless a shade of respect moderated his 
 gay insouciance, he continued his attentions. No place is better 
 for a confidential confabulation than a crowded room, if the 
 parties understand how to conduct it. The initiated would have 
 surmised from an occasional gleam of the eye, and the varying 
 expression of that most uncontrollable of features, the mouth, 
 that something more important than sugared nothings was upon 
 the tapis; but to the purblind merrymakers, as a body, Mrs. 
 Read was examining a portfolio of prints, and her companion, a 
 travelled gentleman, descanting upon " High Art" in " the 
 States," as contrasted with the love for poetry, painting and
 
 ALONE. 289 
 
 music, which, it was said, prevailed in gay, pleasure-loving 
 Havana. 
 
 Ida was surprised that Mr. Ashlin requested a presentation to 
 herself, and still more at the pertinacity with which he cultivated 
 the acquaintance he must see she did not desire. He triumphed 
 over her prejudice, inveterate as she had thought it. His air of 
 deep interest the admiration, too respectful to be conveyed in 
 words, which spoke in every look and action, were dangerous 
 flattery, and Ida was not invulnerable. But in reviewing the 
 events of the evening, distrust obscured the pleasing recollection 
 of his captivating address and the magic of his eloquence. Why 
 was it bestowed upon her a stranger, and so little attractive iu 
 her appearance ? Why, especially, should he have asked per- 
 mission to call ? He knew Mrs. Eead, and to her the applica- 
 tion should, in etiquette, have been made. There was a vague 
 apprehension hanging over her a foreboding, for which she 
 could assign no cause. He called, as he had promised, "at 
 an early day." The family were collected in Mr. Read's room, 
 when his card was brought to the lady of the house. 
 
 " Mr. Ashlin," she read. " Whom did he trek for, John ?" 
 
 " The ladies, ma'am." 
 
 Very well. Josephine, I will thank you and Miss Ida to 
 receive him, and excuse me." 
 
 " Excuse me, if you please !" answered Josephine, bridling. 
 " I scarcely know the gentleman, and do not covet the honour." 
 
 " Miss Ida ?" said Mrs. Read, inquiringly. 
 
 " Why not go down with me, ma'am ? Are you indisposed ?" 
 
 " You need not say so I am engaged. I really wish it," she 
 added, for Ida was undecided. 
 
 " Then I will go," said she, with a sensation cf infinite relief. 
 
 Josephine followed her out. "Beware, my lady-like 
 
 Tartuffe !" hissed she, sneering in baffled malignity. "You arc 
 
 mixing yourself up in a scrape which will not reflect much 
 
 credit upon the elect." 
 
 Her fiendish laugh was echoing after her, as Ida gained the 
 parlor. 
 
 Mr. Ashlin did not appear abashed or disappointed, upon 
 receipt of the apologies. He bowed, with a civil regret, and 
 25
 
 290 ALONE. 
 
 seemed to forget that there were other ladies in the house or in 
 the world, than the one he was entertaining. 
 
 Ida's disagreeable oppression returned once, at his smile, when, 
 in reply to his inquiry, she stated that the portrait in the niche 
 spposite him, was Mr. Read's. 
 
 He got up to inspect it. To Ida, he was measuring himself 
 with it, as he straightened his Apollo figure, and expanded his 
 full chest. 
 
 "A good painting!" he observed. "How long since it was 
 taken ?" 
 
 Two years." 
 
 " The pencil of time is the best test of the value of a picture 
 to some it is a destroyer, it beautifies others. An excellent 
 piece of work !" still scanning it. " Is the likeness correct ?" 
 
 "Uncommonly or was, when it was painted. Mr. Read 
 looks older and thinner now, that his health is impaired." 
 
 Again that sinister smile ! but he said nothing more. 
 
 He called again, with a friend, an habitul of the house. It 
 was evening, and Mrs. Read saw them. The length of his stay 
 in Richmond was indefinite ; they were not sure but each visit 
 was his last ; and he, keeping up the uncertainly, came fre- 
 quently, at the hours which suited him best. Josephine, 
 succumbing seemingly, to the power of his wizard wand, freely 
 declared her dread of his departure; Ida felt as much when 
 with him, and revoked it, secretly, as soon as her eyes recovered 
 from their dazzlement. Mrs. Read treated him, as she did her 
 other visitors, and bore no part in the chorus of laudations 
 chaunted in his absence. When Mr. Read was well enough to 
 see company, he fell an easy conquest to the arts of the inimita- 
 ble stranger. "He was" he protested, "a better doctor than 
 Ballard. An hour of his society was more beneficial to him, than 
 the apothecary's entire stock of drugs." 
 
 His birth-day was near at hand, and he determined to invito 
 his friends to rejoice with him, at his partial restoration to 
 health. It was to be an unostentatious afiair a dinner, and no 
 ladies but those belonging to the family. Mr. Read was as 
 impatient as a child at its first tea-party. 
 
 "They are late, Helen! they are not coming!" he said every 
 few minutes, while they were awaiting the guests. He was
 
 ALONE. 291 
 
 working himself into a passion, when the welcome ring appeased 
 him. 
 
 " Mr. Copeland !" called the stentorian lungs of the footman ; 
 and Mrs. Read was as white, as if the hand of Death had smit- 
 ten her. 
 
 How are you all ?" said Richard, in his joyous, rattling 
 style. " Miss Ross, I am delighted to meet you Miss Jose- 
 phine, I will not disparage your blooming cheeks by asking 
 after your health, and you, Mr. Read, have been practicing 
 upon our fears, by stories of illness hasn't he, Helen you are 
 ill !" he said, brought to a full stop by her pallor. 
 
 " 111 ! you are well are you not ?" said Mr. Read, in alarm. 
 
 " Well ! yes ! what notions you have, Richard !" and the color 
 flowed back. When did you come in ? down, I mean, and 
 how are they at home ?" 
 
 " < Home' is too bridish for a demure matron ; but they are 
 well, and sent love. I arrived this morning, and should have 
 been in before, but for business." 
 
 " Don't leave the room, Helen. Somebody will come while 
 you are out. Send John for what you want;" said Mr. Read. 
 She was slipping out through the back parlor. 
 
 " I will be gone but a second," she answered ; and Mr. Read 
 was still telling Richard how opportune his visit was when she 
 returned. She was the collected, urbane hostess, only an eager 
 glance at each arrival, betrayed nervousness or expectation. Mr. 
 Read watched the door, also ; and his displeasure at the tardi- 
 ness of his favorite was audibly vented. 
 
 'Helen ! why don't Mr. Ashlin come ?" he said, in Ida's hear- 
 ing. Ears less acute would not have distinguished his wife's reply. 
 
 " Hush ! these people are jealous of your preference already. 
 He will be here before long." 
 
 Ida had mislaid her handkerchief, or not brought it into the 
 room ; and Richard offered to favor her retreat by a journey into 
 the next room, to look at some green-house plants. Leaving him 
 bending over them, she ran up-stairs, found the missing article, 
 and was hurrying down, when a ring arrested her upon the 
 lower landing. Thinking to let the visitor enter before her, sh 
 stepped back out of sight.
 
 292 A L C N E . 
 
 Mr. Ashlin, I beg your pardon, sir," said John , my 
 mistress told me to give you this before you went into the draw- 
 ing-room, sir." 
 
 Mr. Ashlin paused she judged, to read a note. 
 
 " All right !" said he. " Tell your mistress, I regret exceed- 
 ingly that I am called into the country, on account of a friend's 
 danger, and cannot comply with my engagement to Mr. Read 
 this evening. Deliver the message as I have given it. This is 
 for yourself, John. Good day." 
 
 " Thank you, sir. Good afternoon." 
 
 Ida's limbs shook beneath her. She had not time to unravel 
 the mystery for mystery she knew it to be ; Mrs. Read's fright 
 at her brother's entrance ; her incoherence and exit ; the strangely 
 worded message ; the bribe to the servant swam in a chaotic 
 medley through her mind. She was sick with terror, until warned 
 to conceal her emotions by Richard's saying that " Helen's 
 queer symptoms had become epidemic." Partaker of the 
 alarms of guilt, by her knowledge of the sin, averse as she 
 was to participation in its concealment, she was possessed with 
 tin idea, that to her was committed the work of blinding Richard. 
 While her ears were alert to every sentence uttered around 
 her, and she was quaking at the least approach to a mention 
 of the absentee, she aimed to monopolize Mr. Copeland's sense 
 and thoughts. She anticipated their quitting the table as a 
 blessed change; then a cold agony came over her, at the remem- 
 brance that the gentlemen would remain. Discovery, in this 
 case, was inevitable. His wife's caution would not restrain 
 Mr. Read from pledging Mr. Ashlin's health. She thought of 
 bantering Richard into withdrawing with the ladies ; it would 
 be too bold too forward. He would obey, but his respect for 
 her would be diminished; as a final alternative, she must 
 venture it but was there no other ? 
 
 " Our patient does us credit, Miss Ida." Her next neighbor 
 was Dr. Ballard. 
 
 "Does you credit, Doctor. I am only your custodian a 
 daring one, however, for I have a petition to submit. Will 
 it not be imprudent for Mr. Read to remain long at table, after 
 the cloth is removed? His system is still inflammatory." 
 Her conscience reproved her for the deception, although she
 
 ALONE. 293 
 
 spoke the truth, but the case was desperate, The doctor's pro- 
 fessional cap was on instantly. 
 
 " Unquestionably, my child ! unquestionably ! well thought 
 of, Miss Ida ! We must guard against a relapse. How shall 
 we get him into the parlor?" 
 
 Ida consulted Richard, who referred the case to Charley and 
 returned her the reply, that if the ladies would delay their 
 departure, a little longer than was customary, not to startle 
 those who loved to tarry at the wine, he would concert with most 
 of the company to rise at the same time. Charley was at the 
 helm, and Ida could safely have slept upon her watch. Mr. Read 
 demurred at an infringement upon banquetting laws, but the 
 seceders gallantly insisted upon attending their fair leaders; and 
 the most disaffected had not courage to stand their ground. 
 It was a weary, weary evening to Ida; she looked and felt 
 wretchedly ill, after the guests dispersed. Richard looked in 
 again, after saying " good night." 
 
 " I have purchased a buggy to-day,' said he, to Ida ; " and my 
 pet horse is in town. Shall I have the pleasure of driving you 
 out in the morning?" 
 
 She assented. 
 
 " At what hour?" he asked. 
 
 " I wonder what has happened, that Ashlin stayed away !" 
 said Mr. Read. 
 
 Richard started violently. " Ashlin !" he echoed with a fiery 
 look at his sister. Ashlin Ashlin ;" he repeated, sensible of 
 his imprudence. " I have heard the name who is he ?" 
 
 " An old friend of your sister's," replied Josephine. 
 
 Richard's face was profoundly meditative. " A small man 
 is he not ? red-haired, stoops in the shoulders, and wears spec- 
 tacles ?" 
 
 Mr. Read spoke up indignantly. A magnificent fellow ! gen- 
 tlemanly, intelligent, and one of the best hearts in the world." 
 
 "I do not know him then!" said Richard, emphatically. 
 " Now I think of it, the red head's name may have been Ashton. 
 Say eleven o'clock," to Ida " it will be pleasantly warm 
 then." 
 
 " It will suit me," she rejoined, trembling before his gaze. 
 
 He was punctual to the hour. Mr. Read hobbled to the door 
 25*
 
 294 ALONE. 
 
 to admire his " turn-out." To him, Richard was lively and 
 friendly as usual, but he refused his sister's invitation to come 
 iu, and his bow, as his horse sprang off at the loosened rein, was 
 to him. They left the city by the shortest route. Beyond the 
 houses, Richard slackened their headlong speed. 
 
 "Miss Ross !" he said, abruptly facing her, "I have classed 
 you among the limited number of your sex, who are upright and 
 truthful. Within twelve hours past, I have doubted you. You 
 are under no personal obligations to answer my questions ; but 
 as a brother for the honor of my family, I demand of you, all 
 that you know of this Ashlin." 
 
 " Which is very little. I never saw him until Mr. Cranleigh's 
 marriage, when he was introduced to me at Mrs. Morris'." 
 
 By whom ? by Helen ?" 
 
 " By Mrs. Morris, herself. He made a party call, and has 
 continued to visit the house." 
 
 " Artful as ever !" he said, through his shut teeth. "Does 
 Mrs. Read see him?" 
 
 "Yes; and Mr. Read." 
 
 The old blinkard ! Does Helen receive him as your friend, 
 or as hers?" 
 
 "As the friend of the family." 
 
 " Tush ! I might commend your diplomacy, Miss Ross, if 1 
 were not so thoroughly in earnest. It is clear you will not 
 advance a step, without knowing why you are questioned. 
 Having more confidence in you, than you have in me, I will set 
 you an example of candor Ashlin and my sister were betrothed 
 when he was at college. We were " chums." He is ardent 
 generous in some of his impulses, but as I perceived, even with 
 my boyishly irregular notions, lax in principle. Helen was not 
 ignorant of my opinion, and with a woman's faith and persever. 
 ance, set herself to break it down. You do not know her as she 
 was then high-spirited, proud and passionate, but tractable as 
 a child to the voice of affection. Her will was more ungovernable 
 than mine, and she almost reconciled me to her choice. He had 
 just completed his course at the University, when the death 
 of an uncle put him in possession of a valuable estate in Cuba. 
 The marriage, which was to have taken place immediately, was 
 postponed for twelve' months. Meantime, he was to visit his
 
 ALONE. 295 
 
 property, and prepare for a permanent residence in the West 
 Indies. The year elapsed he did not return and suddenly 
 his letters were suspended. Helen was insanely trustful; he 
 might be ill or dead dying, or in the grave, he was true ! Her 
 romantic independent disposition led her to the formation of a 
 mad project to search for him in person, since she could learn 
 nothing in any other way. I could not dissuade her; she made 
 but one concession, that I might accompany her. The object 
 and direction of our expedition was known only to ourselves. 
 We were ready a day before that fixed for starting, a letter 
 came! He was enamored of an Italian cantatrice; 'designed 
 marrying her, if Helen would liberate him ; if not, he would 
 redeem his early pledge to her.' She was ill for weeks ; and 
 upon what, I believed was her death-bed, she extorted from me 
 a vow not to revenge her. She ' should have foreseen how it 
 would end/ she said, l blind, confiding dupe, that she was !' She 
 arose a hardened, I think, sometimes, a heartless woman of the 
 world : with her trust in him, had perished her faith in Gud 
 and man ; an unfeminine panting for wealth and distinction, 
 filling its place. Chance threw this gold-fish, Head, in her net; 
 and she clutched him. I had sorrowed for, and commiserated 
 her until then ; but so sordid, so wickedly weak was this act, 
 that I reproached her angrily. I said it sprang from wounded 
 vanity, and a mean desire to glitter, a hollow-hearted, tinselled 
 doll in the view of those who would gibe, while pretending to 
 applaud ; that her conduct was as degrading to her, as morti- 
 fying to us, and she bore my vituperations, without attempting 
 to defend herself, < Hichard !' she said, when I had exhausted 
 my indignation, e better reason with a tornado, than a slighted 
 woman !' 
 
 "You regard me as a chattering coxcomb, Miss Ida; but I 
 solemnly declare that I could have gone to the block more 
 resignedly, than I saw my beautiful sister sold to her hoary 
 bridegroom. These were circumstances, with which I could not 
 cope but the diabolical schemes of this assassin of her peace 
 shall nofr mature ! This is the sad tale is it quite new to you ?" 
 
 " In its details;" and she related Celestia's version. 
 
 " Which furnished you with a key you have a clear head, 
 and a woman's wit have you found no locks that it fitted ?"
 
 !:' ALONE 
 
 No reply. 
 
 " Did you divine the cause of Helen's embarrassment at my 
 appearance, yesterday ?" 
 
 <' Not at the time." 
 
 " But afterwards. He was invited did she warn him of my 
 bjing there? If so, do not say it. I can bear your silence 
 bitter than the truth." 
 
 "I can neither deny nor assert, Mr. Copeland. I have 
 imagined many dreadful things, which may have no real exist- 
 ence. You may judge for yourself." 
 
 His brow was lighter, when he had heard her unvarnished 
 relation. 
 
 " I thank you !" said he, heartily. " "We may cicatrize this 
 wound yet. I will see Helen to-night; she expects a reproof; 
 and if she is not what she appears, refined steel I will make 
 her feel. I dare not meet Ashlin but I will write and if 
 be crosses my path again ." He resumed in a milder tone, 
 "I would crave one more proof of your good-will, but that I fear 
 a refusal." 
 ' Ask it." 
 
 " If he renews his visits, will you inform me ?" 
 " No, sir ! said Ida, positively. "The service savors too mucl 
 of espionage." 
 
 "I was afraid you would see it in that light. Miss Read," he 
 continued, scornfully, " would require no persuasion to play the 
 spy. I was near committing myself last night. His name was a 
 galvanic shock." 
 
 " I cannot but hope," said Ida, " that our fears have mag- 
 nified shadows into spectres. We are so prone to shape events 
 after the fashion of our inclinations or forebodjngg. Do not 
 consider it an impertinent liberty, Mr. Copeland, if I recom- 
 mend to you to be very gentle in your reprehension of your 
 sister. Callous, self-dependent in semblance, think what her 
 sufferings are, empaled by memory and conscience. Oh ! if we 
 had more charity for the tempted !" 
 
 " Temptation, sin, suffering ! how naturally the words succeed 
 cuch other !" mused Richard. 
 
 " And they are an epitome of all human woe," said Ida
 
 ALONE. 297 
 
 " It is a doctrine of mine, that a small proportion of the great 
 aggregate of crime is committed from actual love of sin." 
 
 She was gratified at his demeanor towards his sister upon 
 their return. He dined with them, and was markedly attentive 
 to her, combining so much brotherly kindness with a certain 
 deference to her wishes and sentiments, that she struggled with 
 the softness which menaced her proud composure. As they 
 quitted the table, he passed his arm around her waist, and there 
 were tears in the eyes upraised to his. No more auspicious 
 time could occur for the contemplated conversation ; and Ida 
 enticed Mr. Read into his reading room, by the lure of an uncut 
 periodical. The words fell from her mouth mechanically her 
 mind was upon the momentous interview. In the character 
 and life delineated by Richard, she traced, with a thrill, a 
 similarity to her own ; the impetuous temper unmanageable, 
 save when the breath of love sighed over the heart; the blasted 
 hope; the unworthiness of the object of adoration ah ! this 
 bitterest ingredient in the cup of despair was spared her ! but 
 the prostration of soul and body ; then the heaven-threatening 
 billows of blasphemous misanthropy, and self-abandonment the 
 parallel was just here to diverge how widely in the result of 
 the ordeal ! one, wilfully completing the ruin of her happiness 
 by perjury cauterizing her heart with corrodents, that eat 
 away its fevered life ; the other, dragging herself, wounded and 
 weary, to the feet of the Good Physician, to be healed, and fed, 
 and sustained by His loving mercy; and the language of Ida's 
 thanksgiving was, " Lord ! Thou hast made me to differ !"
 
 298 ALONE. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 THE season of sunshine and roses had come, and Carry's 
 demands for her friend's society were importunate. 
 
 " You would not fret your dear heart with harrowing doubts 
 of my love for you and Poplar-grove, if you could peep in upon 
 me this morning," wrote Ida. " Mr. Read is worse. I am 
 unfamiliar with the diagnosis of this malady ; but I fear his 
 condition is very precarious. He is entirely disabled ; cannot 
 lift his hand to his mouth without extreme pain, and his nervous 
 system is much deranged. I write now at the window farthest 
 distant from his bed, and cautiously, that the scratching of my 
 pen may not disturb him. I can see your hands and eyes go 
 up, and hear the < this is too much !' which signals the last 
 throe of expiring patience as you picture me a nun-like figure, 
 with serge gown and close cap ; or more affecting, an attenuated 
 damsel, such as we see upon tomb-stones, pressing a handkerchief 
 to one eye j I imagine your multitudinous arguments, each un- 
 answerable in its excellence, and which I know by heart. You 
 allege that he is not entitled to my cares, inasmuch as there 
 are no ties of blood between us; that he has never done me an 
 ungrudged favor ; that he is greedy and thankless for my 
 services ; that his wife and daughter should esteem it their 
 duty and pleasure to tend him ; and fifthly and lastly, that 
 it is wrong to endanger my health, as your whimsical country 
 doctors will have it I am doing. Putting the last first, 
 reassure yourself my dear I am well. I do not prevaricate to 
 allay your fears ; I look well, eat well, and sleep well, and I 
 may dismiss the remainder of your objections in one sentence 
 I am doing my duty, Carry ! I am morally certain of this, 
 more certain, than if you were my charge ; for my love would 
 be the mainspring of action then. I am upheld by the assur- 
 ance, that I am fulfilling, in my humble way, the command, our 
 Saviour appointed as the touchstone of piety to the end of 
 time < Do good to them that hate you, pray for them that
 
 ALONE. 299 
 
 despitefully use you/ I thank Him that He has vouchsafed 
 to me this opportunity to examine myself by this criterion." 
 
 The sufferer moaned, and she laid down her pen. " You have 
 had a refreshing sleep, have you not, sir?" 
 
 " No 1 there is no ease for me. Why is that window open ? 
 It does seem that you all have conspired that I shall die, 
 whether or no. Where is Helen ?" 
 
 " She was here awhile ago, and will be in again soon.'' 
 
 " Is she in the house?" 
 - " I do not know, sir. Let me get what you want/' 
 
 I want her !" 
 
 She was not at home, and Ida renewed her offer. 
 
 " Gone out, hey !" he rambled on, peevishly. How she 
 walks ! as if the ground were not good enough for her feet ! 
 ogling and coquetting ! and I am here !" with an oath. " Where 
 is Josephine ?" 
 
 " Down stairs, sir/' 
 
 What is she about ?" 
 
 Anna Talbot is with her." 
 
 '< More folly and vanity ! ringlets and ribbons, and bonnets 
 and beaux! The world is peopled with knaves and fools 
 women are knaves men fools. You are a mixture." 
 
 Ida suppressed a smile. " Your lips are dry," she said " here 
 is water." 
 
 He drank it. You are !" he went on, obstinately, "I hated 
 you from the minute you entered this house, and you repaid me 
 with compound interest. Here you are, sitting up at night; 
 waiting on me all day. I can't do without you, because you 
 are handy and wakeful, but I don't like you. Do you hear?" 
 
 Yes, sir." 
 
 " I don't ! and therefore, I'm a fool to tolerate the sight of 
 you. I'm a fool that's proved ! You are spoiling your eyes 
 and complexion, and losing the time you might be catching a 
 husband mewed up here. You expect to be paid when my 
 will is read that's knavery hypocritical knavery. I haven't 
 left you a red cent j you are a fool to think of it, and that's 
 proved I" 
 
 Pitiful driveller ! It was not insensibility, but compassion, 
 that closed Ida's mouth, although she knew this was the revela-
 
 300 
 
 ALONE. 
 
 tion of the inner chamber of thought, now that the veil of 
 custom and policy was rent in twain. 
 
 "What time is it?" 
 
 <{ Twelve o'clock, sir." 
 
 " That's a lie ! it's three, at least ! Bring the watch to me. 
 It has stopped ! Hold it to ray ear you've put it back ! Lay 
 it clown by me ! I don't trust you again !" 
 
 The hands pointed to one when Mrs. Read appeared, 
 
 " Well, madam !" the form of each tooth was seen through 
 the thin lips, stretched over them like yellow parchment. "And 
 where have you been traipsing ?" 
 
 I walked down the street." 
 
 " And on Main street, too, I'll swear ! spending more money 
 than you'd sell for at auction ! Why don't you answer me ? 
 Your tongue was more glib when you were passing compliments 
 with that fellow who walked with you." 
 
 " I went out alone, and did not go on Main street." 
 
 " You would have been better employed in the kitchen 
 forever gadding ! I don't want you in here I'm sick of you and 
 your brazen face !" 
 
 "What error to suppose that sickness softens, and predisposes 
 the heart to repentance !" thought Ida. She went into the 
 other room, and beckoned Mrs. Read. " The doctor was here 
 this morning," she said ; " and told me, privately, not to mind 
 his irritability, nor to answer him, unless silence increased it. 
 It is an ordinary symptom in neuralgic affections. We must be 
 forbearing." 
 
 " There is a limit to everything," was Mrs. Read's response. 
 
 " True but forbearance should last as long as the pain we 
 would cure." 
 
 " That is your theory, Miss Ida. I am tired of the practice. 
 You mean well, I have no doubt, but I am not a fit object for 
 your charity." 
 
 The asperity was pointed at herself, rather than at her hearer, 
 and Ida pondered upon her words and manner, often durino- 
 the day. 
 
 " It did not agree with" Josephine < c to sit up" a constitu- 
 tional weakness, loudly lamented, and encouraged, instead of 
 overcome. Ida and Mrs. Read divided the vigil j the mulatto
 
 ALONE. 301 
 
 nurse, Sarah, sleeping in the apartment. Ida was to watch the 
 latter part of the night. The patient was cross and restless, 
 when she looked in upon him at bed-time railing, and swearing 
 and abusive. 
 
 "You want me dead!" he said to his wife; "but I won't 
 die to spite you. I shall live years, and years, and years, 'till 
 you are a toothless hag, and walk with a crutch ! Ha ! ha I" 
 
 " He is delirious !" whispered Ida. Let me stay with you !" 
 
 " He is not! I prefer your retiring. Sarah will call you at 
 two." 
 
 " I shall not undress, to-night, Kachel," said Ida. " I have 
 a presentiment. I shall be wanted." 
 
 "Is he much worse?" 
 
 " No but I may be called up. I shall sleep here, upon the 
 lounge." 
 
 But sleep was coy to her wooing. If she had ever felt fear, 
 she would have known that she was scared and excited. The 
 south wind generally affected her unpleasantly, creating heat 
 and nervousness j but to-night the breeze was from the north, 
 and the moonbeams were spread in broad, white sheets upon 
 the floor. "I must be sick !" she said, aloud. " I cannot ascribe 
 this numb horror to anything else. They have a superstition 
 that it is a precursor of death." Her mind rejected this expla- 
 nation, but the utterance of that word had populated her soul 
 with phantoms. Lynn's chill, damp hands again enfolded hers; 
 and his glazed, upward look still and fixed, moved not at hei 
 weeping; the clods rattled upon the coffin frozen clods! and how 
 warmly soever the sun smiled upon the swelling turf down where 
 he slept, it was frosty night still ! Must he, the loved and gifted, 
 rest there forever ? would a tender mother's arms never more 
 embrace her, the dear lips, now turned to dust, never cling to 
 hers, in speechless fondness? But the dead should rise! some to 
 the resurrection of the just, some to everlasting shame and con- 
 tempt. Oh ! the unspeakable woe of a hopeless death ! the dying 
 strife of the finally impenitent ! Was his end approaching ? " My 
 God ! avert from him this doom !" His room was beneath hers. 
 She could hear occasionally a groan, which she knew was an 
 execration. He might be dying. She thrust her feet into a 
 pair of felted slippers, and descended to- his door. " Quiet- 
 SB
 
 302 
 
 ALONE. 
 
 quiet as death!" "This is improper! irrational'" said she, 
 severely, to herself. " T need repose and steadiness of nerve 
 there are watchers with him." But she would not go back to 
 her room. She went, instead, to the parlor. The hall-lamp 
 burned all night; and setting open a door, and unclosing a 
 shutter, to dissipate the darkness, which suffocated her, as a 
 thick pall, she stretched herself upon a sofa. She slumbered 
 and dreamed visions, like her waking fancies. She was in Mr. 
 Head's chamber; writing to Carry, at her far window; the 
 door swung back, and his wife glided in. With a gesture of 
 silence to her, she passed to his bedside, and poised a knife above 
 his heart ! Ida strove to scream to move but her mighty 
 efforts only shifted the scene did not awaken her. He was 
 dead ; and his friends had ccme to the funeral. They thronged 
 the room where his corpse lay in its costly coffin; and the 
 carriages, headed by the hearse, grated upon the pebbled gutter. 
 The undertaker was tightening the silver screws when, oh ! 
 horror !. the lid was heaved up from within crashing and 
 splintering and the dead sat upright ! The distorted features 
 were Mr. Ashlin's, the yell, as he tossed his arms aloft, Mr. 
 Read's. " I will not die !" She was in the centre of the apart- 
 ment; the cold beads dripping from her forehead, and her hair, 
 dank and heavy, upon her face and neck. She put it back, and 
 listened. The silence drove by her in waves throbbed with 
 the beatings of her heart. Hark ! it was not all a dream ! 
 the pawing of hoofs rang upon the stones. The moon had set; 
 and the lamp was brighter than the starlight. She had the 
 presence of mind to creep to that side of the window hidden by 
 the shutter, and looked out. A carriage was at the door in 
 appearance like the doctor's. He had been summoned the 
 sick man was worse. Something light and white sailed past her 
 window, from overhead; as it fluttered to the ground, a tall 
 figun stepped from the vehicle, and caught it to his bosom. 
 The apparition of the Arch-Fiend himself would not have 
 shaken Ida, as did that manly form. She was awake I A 
 stealing step fell, softly as a snow-flake, upon the floor above- 
 she heard it. With the speed of .light, she flew to the front 
 door locked it to that at the other extremity of the passage 
 hid both keys beneath the cushion of the hall-sofa, and back
 
 ALONE. 303 
 
 igain to the street entrance, as Mrs. Read, dressed for travelling, 
 lad her foot upon the lowest stair. The fugitive leaned against 
 he wall for support, faint with the terrors of detected guilt. 
 
 " Back !" said Ida her cheek bloodless her eyes flashing liv- 
 ng fire. " False to your word ! false to your sex ! I will save 
 pu from public disgrace ! Back ! I say I" 
 
 " Not while I live !" was the answer. 
 
 " And you cross this threshold over my body I" cried the girl, 
 passionately. " Oh ! shame ! shame ! you the pride and idol 
 of your family and your husband ! that you should break their 
 hearts and disgrace his name !" 
 
 " It is not my name after I leave this I shall forget and be 
 forgotten. Let me go I" 
 
 " Forget ! forgotten ! you may ! a false woman can forget the 
 mother who reared her ! but the stain upon them ! your tears, 
 nor his blood can cleanse it !" 
 
 " You are mad !" said Mrs. Read, regaining her composure. 
 " You cannot stop me. My home is in another land. Why 
 do you talk of disgrace ? the brutal dotard I fly from, will unfas- 
 ten my legal fetters, and then I shall live ! the life for which 
 my Creator destined me I" 
 
 You speak your Creator's name ! trampling upon His laws 
 His curse hanging over you! Oh! I entreat you, by a 
 mother's prayers for the sake of your old father, tottering 
 upon the verge of the grave in the name of your honorable 
 and loving brother, not to expose your design ! You shall 
 not you cannot goj the doors are locked call for assistance 
 from those who are without, and I will alarm the household. 
 To-morrow your name will be trumpeted at the corner of evuy 
 street. Ha ! that cry ! they have discovered all ! Too late ! 
 too late ! but no ! " She tore off the cloak and bonnet, and 
 threw them into a corner, as Sarah rushed down the steps. 
 
 " Mistress ! Miss Ida ! for the Lord's sake, come ! Master ia 
 dying!" 
 
 A cry from Josephine pierced their ears. Ida forgot her 
 companion, but she reached the chamber with her. Writhing, 
 convulsed, screaming, he was wrestling with the Destroyer; 
 the disease had grappled his heart. Mrs. Read sank upon her 
 knees, as blasted by a thunderbolt ; Josephine shrieked in help-
 
 304 ALONE. 
 
 less dismay; Ida was wrought up to too high a pitch, to think 
 of self. 
 
 " Where is John ?" she cried. " Here ! run for Dr. Ballard ! 
 Mr. Read is very ill ! Call for Mr. Talbot as you come back. 
 Fly 1" 
 
 He was down stairs while she was speaking. " Why, Misa 
 Ida, the key is not here I" 
 
 She ran for it, unlocked the door, and pushed him out. A 
 man stood in the shade of the porch, whom John did not per- 
 ceive, in his rapid egress ; but he seized Ida's hand, as she would 
 have shut him out. 
 
 " Helen !" 
 
 " Mrs. Read's husband is dying, Mr. Ashlin !" 
 
 " Good heavens !" 
 
 The bolt had shot into its place, ere he could say more. 
 
 All the accompaniments of the last agony, of which Ida had 
 ever heard, read or conceived, were realized in this struggle; 
 the blackening features, drenched with sweat, the starting eye, 
 the twitching muscles, the death-rattle, the soul was tearing 
 through the clay receptacle : yet for two hours the awful conflict 
 was protracted. 
 
 Morning! a sheet covered the rigid, motionless limbs and 
 countenance, telling in death, of suffering ; and there were solemn 
 stoppings and stifled whispers through the house; and crape 
 waved from the door, where the traitorous friend had waited, at 
 night, for the dead man's wife. 
 
 Mrs. Read was borne to her chamber in hysteric convul- 
 sions, and continued raving and swooning all day attacking, 
 in tigress fury, every one who approached her, excepting Ida. 
 Her she would not suffer to quit her sight. Holding her 
 hands in a frantic grasp, she poured forth such iales as made 
 her heart ache : of warm Spring evenings, when the air was 
 laden with sweet-briar scent, and the young moon was swimming 
 in the pale blue sky, and the star of love shone upon them 
 an eye of light from the blushing west, and he sung to 
 her poetry ascending from his heart as perfume from the 
 flowers songs, upon whose memory she lived, in the winter of 
 his absence. "But" and the deep wells of her eyes were 
 black with anguish, " her heart died, and dissolution came not
 
 ALONE. 305 
 
 to the body would that it had 1 and the thought of the past 
 was a yawning abyss, like the abode of the lost, from which 
 arose hot, poisonous simooms and tormenting spirits. The world 
 brought incense and gaudy offerings, and friends their best trea- 
 sures, but it closed not and she resolved, by self-immolation, 
 to shut the chasm ; by an irrevocable sacrifice, to seal it forever. 
 The effort was idle she sold soul and body for nought. He 
 came, and turned her face to the Future. His heart had 
 wavered, but returned to its allegiance. She was his, by an 
 earlier, holier tie than her loathed tyrant's; away in the sunny 
 land of their youthful dreams, they would live, unmolested by 
 memory or care. She clung to duty, until her husband drove 
 her from him with a curse ; to a brother's love, and he painted 
 that brother's hatred of him, and threatened to see her no 
 more; and by the specious names of "soul-dictates," and 
 the " religion which enjoins truth, and condemns hypocrisy," 
 gained her promise. The hand of the Almighty interfered ! 
 
 Ida shut up her tears, and reasoned and plead with her; 
 praying inwardly for her comfort, and that her own mind and 
 nerves might not fail her. She rested the maniac's head upon 
 her breast bathed the beating temples, and pressed her cool 
 lips to the parched ones, working with pain beseeching her, 
 with every endearing epithet, to rest and forget. But the lava 
 crust was heaving ; and the long-repressed flood spread over 
 it in fast, seething streams. The June twilight was on the 
 earth as she had described those of years agone ; and in calming 
 tones, she bade Ida " sing." 
 
 "What shall I sing?" 
 
 " Of love and faith and hope." 
 
 The exhausted girl rallied her strength, and the sweetest of 
 written hymns seemed whispered to her spirit. 
 
 " 'Oh ! Thou, who driest the mourner's tear, 
 
 How dark this world would be, 
 If pierced by sins and sorrows here, 
 We could not fly to Thee ! 
 
 'The friends, who in our sunshine lire, 
 
 When winter comes, are flown; 
 
 And he, who has but tears to gve, 
 
 Must weep those tears alone. 
 
 26*
 
 306 ALONE. 
 
 'But Thou wilt heal that broken heart, 
 
 Which, like the plants that throw 
 Their fragrance from the wounded partr 
 
 Breathes sweetness out' of woe. 
 
 'When joy no longer soothes or cheers, 
 
 And e'en the hope that threw 
 A moment's sparkle o'er our tears, 
 
 Is dimmed and vanished too; 
 
 'Oh ! who could bear life's stormy doom, 
 
 Did not thy wing of love, 
 Come, brightly waiting through the gloom, 
 
 Our peace-branch from above ! 
 
 Then sorrow, touched by Thee, grows bright, 
 
 With more than rapture's ray, 
 As darkness shows us worlds of light 
 We never saw by day.' " 
 
 The head weighed upon her arm, she did not withdraw it. 
 Scarcely breathing herself, she listened to the regular respiration, 
 that said the distempered brain was locked in forgetfulness. 
 One two three hours and a cold lifelessness succeeded to 
 the smart and aching suspended circulation had first produced, 
 a torpor, creeping to her shoulder affecting her whole body; 
 but she would not terminate that blessed slumber. A fleet step 
 ascended the stairs, it did not belong to any of the household, 
 yet was not strange. A knock which she could not answer 
 the bolt was cautiously drawn. 
 
 " Helen !" said her brother's voice. 
 
 The " hush-sh-sh I" silenced him, but he entered. The moon 
 revealed the dark and white forms upon the bed. 
 
 "Your sister sleeps!" said Ida, under her breath. "I beg 
 you to retire she must not see you. Oh ! go I" for she was 
 awaking. 
 
 " Ida !" said Mrs. Read ; " what am I doing here ? Oh ! mercy ! 
 I remember !" 
 
 Peace ! peace I" and with gentle violence, Ida forced her 
 back to the pillow. You are safe and well now." 
 
 She was still for a minute. " Whom were you speaking to 
 when I awoke ?" 
 
 " Some one opened the door, and I did not wish you dis- 
 turbed." 
 
 " It was a servant, then ? I dreamed Richard had come. Oh ! 
 if he should I"
 
 ALONE. 807 
 
 * Do you want us to send for him ?" 
 
 " Never 1" 
 
 " But the fatigue of travelling rapidly over so great a distance 
 will be too much for your parents. Some of your friends ought 
 to be with you." 
 
 " But not Richard ! any one else !" 
 
 Ida was perplexed. He would insist upon seeing her, as 
 soon as he heard that she was awake ; they must meet in the 
 morning, and the shock then might unfit her to endure the 
 trials of the day; yet to tell her now, appeared cruel and 
 unnecessary 
 
 "You have not eaten to-day you will take some nourishment 
 if I bring it ?" 
 
 " Don't leave me !" 
 
 " Only for a little while. Promise me to be good and quiet, 
 until I can run down stairs and back." 
 
 " Only do not stay I am afraid to be alone." 
 
 Richard was pacing the hall with a troubled air. "How is 
 she ?" he asked. 
 
 " More composed." 
 
 " May I go up ?" 
 
 " It pains me to deny you, but she can see no one, at pre- 
 sent." 
 
 " This is extraordinary, Miss Ida. We know that there is not 
 ground for this excessive grief, and Helen has not miss-ish 
 nerves. What ails her?" 
 
 His frown commanded her to reply, explicitly. 
 
 "You do not reflect how sudden Mr. Read's death was, Mr. 
 Copeland. It was an alarming event to us all. After awhile, 
 your siste* will receive you. She does not know that you are 
 here ; h ,r mind has wandered all day ; and I deemed it safest 
 not to agitate her. Trust me to do all in my power for her and 
 you." 
 
 I do !" 
 
 Mrs. Read remained comparatively tranquil, saying little, 
 except to supplicate Ida not to leave her. 
 
 You are better are you not ?" inquired the latter, stroking 
 her bro*r. 
 
 Y easier, and more quiet."
 
 308 ALONE. 
 
 " I find your brother has been sent fo: ;" she pursued 
 
 " He has come !" ejaculated Mrs. Read. " Oh ! what shall 
 [do? what shall I do?" 
 
 " It is unavoidable ; you must meet why delay it ?" 
 
 " Oh ! he will kill him ! he said he would, if he ever spoke 
 to me again I" 
 
 More perplexity ! Ida staggered under it. Her ingenuousness 
 pointed to the straightest, as the best road. The guilty mind 
 would never be unburdened without confession j but there was 
 solid rock, underlying the foamy flow of Richard's character. 
 When his distrust of Ashlin did not amount to a defined con- 
 viction, he had said, that he "dared not see him" and she 
 recalled his meaning, "If he crosses my path again!" The 
 dilemma was fearful a life of concealment to one, murder to 
 the other. Mrs. Read's consternation redoubled on perceiving 
 hers. "What shall I do? oh! if I could die!" she moaned, 
 tossing from side to side. Ida spoke in accents of command 
 representing the unhappiness she would experience in her 
 intercourse with her deceived brother ; the watchfulness, and 
 subterfuges, and the misery of accepting a love she had for- 
 feited ; and on the other hand, the remorse of the murderess ; 
 the blood of another soul clogging hers ; the public ignominy 
 but this was barely touched upon. 
 
 "Yet sin unconfessed to man, is not always unrepented of to 
 God ;" said she. 
 
 " Can you resign this base-hearted man, and devote your life 
 to an endeavor to repair you cannot of yourself, expiate your 
 offences against your Maker and your fellow creatures ?" And 
 the haughty, harden- 1 woman bent before the simple majesty 
 of truth and feeling, .n 1 solemnly vowed herself ready for her 
 work.
 
 ALONE. 309 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 RICHARD was to tako his sister home ; and Ida was busily 
 assisting her to pack her trunks, the day after the funeral, when 
 Josephine sent to request an audience. She ordered the ser- 
 vants out of the room as she came in, and without preamble, 
 entered upon her subject. 
 
 " You two have been confederates in many amusing schemes. 
 Wedded spirits at sight, you flattered yourselves that you coun- 
 terfeited indifference successfully. But not to me my fair 
 intriguers ! You, Miss Ross, were wilfully imprudent. I foiled 
 your manoeuvres to entrap Morton Lacy, the man you loved j 
 you owe the disappointment, from which you will never recover, 
 to me. You were unwary to oppose me a second time. And 
 for you lovely and inconsolable widow ! your downfall was 
 decreed from the moment we met. I poisoned that old man's 
 mind^against you. He weakly tried to repel doubt to confide 
 the fool ! in your love but the venom was subtle certain ! 
 / overheard your first interview with your recreant lover 
 marked, step by step, your reconciliation, and furthered it when 
 I could : / saw your trepidation when your brother's arrival 
 menaced an expost; and compelled John afterwards to a con- 
 fession of the warning he transmitted, and the reply, ' on 
 account of a friend's danger !' That ' friend' is in imminent 
 danger now ! The cessation of his visits did not mislead her, 
 who dogged you in your walks, and saw him by your side. 1 
 was awake the elopement night, saw your signal, and heard 
 the theatrical dialogue in the hall, rehearsed for the benefit 
 of eaves-droppers, to clear the skirts of your accomplice, when 
 your flight should be discovered. Pah ! a child could see through 
 it ! a remarkable coincidence that Miss Ross should select a par- 
 lor for a dormitory, and arouse, just in season to confront you at 
 the door ! It was a scene, as the play-bills have it ' for one 
 night only.' Your plan proved abortive ; death has left you as 
 free as a divorce would have done; and when the 'days of 
 mourning are ended,' you think to marry, and the public be in
 
 310 ALONE. 
 
 blissful ignorance that this measure was in contemplation before 
 your husband's decease. Idiot! is this the revenge I have 
 worked for ? Your swain is yet in town ; act out your plot. 
 You need not go to Cuba the laws of Virginia do not forbid 
 the bans. If, however, your saint-like confidante reprobates 
 < indecent haste/ my game is nevertheless sure. I give you to- 
 day and to-night for deliberation and escape. At ttie end of 
 twenty-four hours, if you are in this house, your hot-blooded 
 brother shall hear the interesting facts, of which I have pre- 
 sented a summary; I have spoken, and I never repent!" 
 
 Her auditors had not moved hand or foot, since she began to 
 speak ; and after she had gone, they gazed at each other in the 
 same dead silence. Mrs. Read's stony despair revived Ida's 
 energies. 
 
 " I am lost ' she said, in a hollow tone. She put by the 
 garment she held, and seated herself, with folded arms. 
 
 " You are not !" 
 
 " She ' never repents !' " 
 
 " God grant she may, before it is too late !" said Ida, looking 
 upwai'd ; " but I do not rely upon her relentings for your deliver- 
 ance. We must consider. Bear up, and remember your vow !" 
 
 But her own heart sank. Contrivance and expedient presented 
 themselves, all inadequate to the emergency. 
 
 " Are you willing to brave Richard's wrath, if it affects only 
 yourself ?" she asked. 
 
 " I am ! to the shedding of my blood. Your face brightens ! 
 Is there any hope ?" 
 
 " Iniquity defeats itself!" said Ida devoutly. The Helper 
 of the tempted will provide a means of escape. Have we not 
 time, and the knowledge that he is in the city, and liberty to 
 communicate with him? Write him a warning, and a. Jinal 
 farewell; he must fly for his life he will do it ! The traitor 
 is seldom brave !" she said inwardly. 
 
 Mrs. Read's nerveless fingers dropped the pen. 
 
 "I cannot !" 
 
 " You must !" said Ida, authoritatively. " His life your 
 peace, depend upon it. Write ! I will dictate." 
 
 The note was short and imperative. If the hand quivered, 
 the heart that indited did not.
 
 ALONE. 311 
 
 "Take comfort !" said Ida, sealing it. 
 
 <' How will you send it ?" said Mrs. Read, whom grief and 
 shame had robbed of mind and fortitude. 
 
 " I will carry it myself." 
 
 Oh ! not you ! what will be aiid ?" 
 
 " Trust me. If Josephine has emissaries, so have I. I will 
 not compromise myself or you. I was cut out for a conspirator, 
 and to keep up the character, you must disguise me. My 
 appearance on the street so soon after the yesterday, will 
 excite remark. Ah ! this thick veil, and that black mantle, 
 will serve my purpose. Now, would you know me ?" 
 
 " Never but dear Ida " 
 
 But repeating " Take comfort !" Ida kissed her, and went 
 out. She tripped across the 'back yard, under shelter of the 
 buildings, unlatched the gate, and was safely in an alley, bisect- 
 ing the square, and parallel with the street upon which the 
 house was built. She walked briskly, thinking over her plan. 
 As in Lynn's case, Charley was her aim; but she was not 'so 
 sure now of his co-operation. It was a delicate and dangerous 
 matter; would he be a blind tool? confidence was not to be 
 thought of. With his nice notions of propriety, would he take 
 a note from her to Mr. Ashlin, of whose character she had heard 
 him speak disparagingly. "This is foolish!" she interrupted 
 herself " he must I" and she was conscious that this word 
 from her, carried with it an authority few had the hardihood to 
 resist. 
 
 John Dana was in the store, but he did not know her, and 
 sent a clerk forward. 
 
 "I wish to see Mr. Dana, sir." 
 
 She raised her veil as he responded to the call. 
 
 " Ida ! my dear child ! I should never have recognised you I" 
 
 " I did not design you should. My errand is with Charley 
 is he in ?" 
 
 " In the counting-room. What is the matter ?" 
 
 " With me ? Nothing, sir; a state secret. He is my Vizier." 
 
 " Very well I" said he, smiling. " Walk this way." He 
 pushed aside the baize door, and Ida thought she should faint, 
 as Richard Copeland was discovered talking with Charley. John 
 also retreated.
 
 O 1 ) 
 
 t -'- L " ALONE. 
 
 " He is not alone ;" he said, " I will call him out." 
 
 "Not while Mr. Copeland is here!" she faltered. "Oh! I 
 would not have him see me I" 
 
 " Tda !" 
 
 " He must not see me, Mr. Dana !" 
 
 "Then I will hide you shall I ?" He took her to the end of 
 a counter, piled to the ceiling with goods; gave her a tall stool, 
 and bade her " rest awhile." 
 
 Ida was ashamed of her perturbation, and heartsick of the 
 feints and concealments her nature revolted at; all the conse- 
 quences of another's errors. 
 
 Charley and Kichard entered the store. " You had better 
 say you will go," said the latter. " It is insufferably stupid ; 
 staying here this weather." 
 
 "I don't know whether lean get off;" answered Charley. 
 We'll see." 
 
 His brother directed him to Ida. He was astonished to see 
 her. 
 
 'But you can never be unwelcome." 
 ! Cela depend ;" said Ida, " I sue for a favor." 
 ' Consider it granted." 
 < That will not do. Can you perform my bidding, without 
 asking questions ?" 
 
 I am not inquisitive ; and I depend upon your discretion." 
 Then, will you deliver this letter immediately ?" 
 
 His countenance changed. Ida lifted her finger. 
 
 "I have promised," he icplied; "but Ida if you were my 
 sister, I would not be the bearer of this !" 
 
 " Charley !" 
 
 " I do not say it to hurt your feelings, but I know men, and 
 this man, better than you do. This is not your handwriting. 
 My fear is that you may be tampered with not your integrity 
 but that designing people may impose upon your credulity." 
 
 " I thank you sincerely for your consideration, but I act with 
 my eyes open, and conscientiously believe that what I demand 
 is actually necessary. 7 dictated that note. Will you oblige 
 me now ?" 
 
 " Unhesitatingly." 
 
 "Be sure you give it, at once, to him. I cannot explain.
 
 ALONE. 313 
 
 I may never do it, perhaps. One thing more. Where does 
 Mr. Copeland want you to go ? and when ?" 
 
 " To the country, to-morrow ; a tete-a-tete drive out of town ; 
 a dinner at a tavern ; and spend the day in the woods, gunning." 
 
 " Go, please ! I have a special reason for asking it and 
 start early." 
 
 " More mysteries !" 
 
 " The last I shall ever annoy you with, Charley." 
 
 " Enough ! if possible you shall be obeyed. I trust you, Ida 
 not one of the other parties concerned. By the way/' he added, 
 putting on his hat, " Lacy passed through the city yesterday ; 
 stopped but an hour, and left his regrets and respects for you. 
 He would have called, but for the circumstances of the family." 
 
 " I should have been happy to see him," said Ida, very natu- 
 rally. Was his sister with him ? how is her health ?" 
 
 " Not improved. They contemplate a sea-voyage. I heard 
 a queer report about him the other day." They were at the 
 store-door, and Ida did not lower her veil, although the light was 
 glaring. Charley was scrutinising her from the corners of his 
 eyes, and she was aware of it. 
 
 " I don't credit it ;" he said. " They say he is engaged to be 
 married to Miss Arnold." 
 
 Ida smiled. Why do you discredit it ?" 
 
 " Why I hear the girl is a flirt ; she is pretty, but I don't 
 relish the match. Besides, to be frank, I had a private opinion 
 that" 
 
 "That he was engaged to me!" finished Ida, laughingly. 
 " Your shrewdness is at fault for once, Charley. I have known 
 of his engagement ever since last summer almost a year." 
 
 " How did you hear of it ?" 
 
 From himself." 
 
 " All righ't then, I suppose ;" Charley reluctantly conceded 
 I'll be hanged if I don't believe it's all wrong !" he muttered, 
 as he walked down the street. Ida did not mutter or sigh, on 
 her way home. She cheered Mrs. Read's drooping spirits by 
 reporting their case in excellent hands, and the happy Providence 
 which appeared likely to befall them in Richard's projected 
 jaunt. " A day is as precious to us, at this juncture, as if ita 
 minutes were diamonds," said she. 
 27
 
 j!4 ALONE. 
 
 Withdrawing to her chamber, she wept long and sadly. " If 
 [ could only have seen him for one hour ! one minute ! Oh ! I 
 shall never be free never forget ! Can I censure poor Helen, 
 when I am myself so weak ? for it is sin to love him, the pro- 
 mised husband of another !" 
 
 An hour and she was with her dejected charge, busy and 
 cheerful yet so thoughtful, so sympathetic, that the repentant 
 wanderer blessed her as a heavenly messenger of compassion 
 and goodness 
 
 Ida was dressing in the morning, when she received a note 
 from Charley. 
 
 " Mr. A decamped yesterday afternoon, servants and 
 
 baggage it is said not to revisit these parts shortly. I do not 
 know whether this much discussed Hegira is, in any way, attri- 
 butable to your billet, but write, in the supposition, that the fact 
 
 may not be uninteresting. Mr. C and myself are on the 
 
 point of starting upon our ride ; return to-night. 
 
 In haste, yours, 
 
 CHARLEY." 
 
 Ida smiled scornfully. The caitiff ! I said the false were 
 seldom brave !" 
 
 She sent the note to Mrs. Read. Rachel brought up an 
 answer. "You are my guardian angel," it said. "The God 
 you love and serve, may reward you I never can. I shall 
 spend this day alone. Richard must hear the truth, and I 
 should be his informant not that miserable girl, who would 
 gloat upon the sight of his grief and amazement. I shall write 
 him everything. Pray for me !" 
 
 Towards evening, Rachel, as the only trustworthy bearer, was 
 dispatched to Richard's hotel with the letter. Mrs. Read had 
 expended her moral courage in the execution of this mortifying 
 duty. She passed a wretched night a prey to agonizing anti- 
 cipations imagining Mr. Ashlin's return ; his being overtaken ; 
 the death of one or both ; Richard's desertion of her, or that her 
 family would disown her. Ida stayed with her, but her condo- 
 lences and sanguine predictions were futile. 
 
 " You do not know Richard \" was Mrs. Read's invariable
 
 ALONE. 315 
 
 He appeared at the hour for departure, and without coming in, 
 gent to inquire if she was ready. Ida supported the half-swoon- 
 ing woman down stairs. Richard was in the porch. He saluted 
 her slightly his sister, not at all; his face so gloomy and 
 stern, Ida dared not accost him. Josephine was less timorous, 
 or had a stronger incentive. She walked boldly to the door. 
 
 "Mr. Copeland, can -you spare me a minute of your valuable 
 time ? I have a word to say to you." 
 
 He wheeled upon her with a withering sneer. " I am admon- 
 ished of the purport of your communication, Miss Head, and my 
 regret is only second to yours, that the indulgence of your ami- 
 able penchant for bloodshed is inevitably postponed by the flight 
 of our chivalrous friend. I give you credit for having acted in 
 perfect consonance with the finest feelings of your soul. Permit 
 me to express the hope that the consummation we mutually 
 desire, is not very remote that the " transgressor may be 
 rewarded according to his works ;" and while this is the burden 
 of your prayers, I would have you remember that I shall put up 
 a like petition with regard to yourself !" 
 
 Mrs. Eead strained Ida to her breast silently, and the hot tears 
 fell fast upon her cheek. She tendered her hand to Josephine. 
 It was disdainfully rejected. 
 
 " Farewell, Mr. Copeland j" said Ida, holding out her hand. 
 
 He clasped it, and inclined his head, as in adoration. " It is 
 well," he said, in an tinder tone, " that I have met you. You 
 have preserved me from total abnegation of female truth. 
 Thank heaven that you have but a physical resemblance to your 
 sex!" He closed the carriage-door upon his weeping sister, 
 mounted his horse, bowed to his saddle-bow to the wave of Ida's 
 handkerchief, and galloped off. 
 
 Anna Talbot was to stay with Josephine until the necessary 
 legal formalities should leave her free to select a home; and 
 Mrs. Dana claimed Ida. She needed rest and nursing. This 
 week of agitation and wearing fatigue, was the forerunner of a 
 fever, which might have resulted fatally, had she retained her 
 old quarters. There was nothing at Mr. Dana's to quicken 
 memory into action upon unpleasant subjects; no darkened 
 chambers, or everburning tapers ; no hurryings from room to 
 room, with the suppressed bustle, that indicated a renewal of
 
 316 ALONE. 
 
 the patient's sufferings. These were sights and sounds painfully 
 familiar to her of late. She lay in an airy apartment ; the light 
 tempered, not excluded; with books and flowers, and if she 
 wished, the happy children to amuse her ; and when she started 
 from sleep, with a groan or shriek sounding through her head, 
 her eye fell upon the placid face of her hostess, smiling tenderly 
 to dispel her alarms j or Elle's cherry mouth said, in the flute- 
 like accents, so like her aunt's, " You're just dreaming, cousin 
 Ida I" She left her bed, but her tottering steps would not bear 
 her far ; and John Dana carried her in his strong arms every 
 evening to the parlor, where was Charley, disposing, with the 
 skill of an accomplished nurse, the pillows that heaped her sofa. 
 She was thankful for the debility that made her the recipient of 
 these tokens of true affection. They loved her ; she no more 
 doubted this, than she questioned her attachment to ihem. One 
 day she appeared thoughtful, and Mrs. Dana remarked upon it 
 in private to her coadjutors. She was afraid it arose from some 
 saddening reminiscence, or mistrust of the future ; " Charley 
 must enliven her." And Charley, if he did not bring mirth, 
 eliminated the caged troubler. 
 
 She " had heard," she said, " that the law required her to 
 choose a guardian." 
 
 " True ;" said Charley. 
 
 " Is there any specified time ? has it expired ?" 
 
 "A month hence will do; although Miss Read has made her 
 choice. " 
 
 "Ah! whom?" 
 
 "Mr. Talbot, the elder. Easy soul! he has not a thought of 
 the pickle he is in." 
 
 Ida was more serious. "Will you say the same of my 
 selected protector." 
 
 " Probably you being afac-simile of her." 
 
 " May I choose whom I please ?" 
 
 "Undoubtedly." 
 
 "Will it be a very troublesome office?" 
 
 " Hum-m-m ! I should say not. Some care some respon- 
 sibility that is a mere song, though, as your schooling is done, 
 and you 'are a moderately discreet young lady."
 
 ALONE. 317 
 
 " Will you ask your brother to act ? I prefer him above all 
 other men in the universe." 
 
 "Why not do it yourself? he will not object." 
 
 " He might be influenced by my anxiety, and assume the 
 task because it will make me happy I want him to make an 
 unprejudiced decision." 
 
 " I will look him up ;" said Charley. 
 
 They re-entered together ; and John bowed his tall form to 
 kiss the flushing cheek. " You will not seem more like a daugh- 
 ter, when you are my ward, than you do now, Ida." 
 
 27*
 
 318 ALONE. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 IT was chinquapen season; and a grove of "bushes" on the 
 outskirts of the Poplar-grove plantation resounded with the 
 jocund voices of a nutting party. The green beards rolled back 
 their white lips, in a smile, saying as plainly as smile could say, 
 for the shining brown treasures " Come and take us !" As a 
 loaded upper limb was roughly shaken, and screams of laughter 
 and pretended fright arose from the group, upon whose heads the 
 hurtling shower descended, our friend Charley might be seen, 
 sauntering away, in suspicious unconcern ; Ellen Morris was 
 weaving her gay-coloured meshes around Mr. Euston's susceptible 
 heart, and Mary Truman, with Charley, as aid, was pioneer to a 
 dozen children of assorted sizes. One couple had strayed to the 
 edge of the grove, where, from the brow of a hill, they over, 
 looked a wide expanse of landscape. The lady, whose bloom was 
 heightened by exercise, or some other cause, was profoundly 
 occupied in sifting chinquapens taken, a handful at a time, 
 from her basket into the same again. Her cavalier was speak- 
 ing low and impressively 
 
 " You cannot argue indifference from my delay. I was ready 
 for this declaration a year ago ; but you were not ; and while I 
 left you in no doubt as to my intentions, I wished you to have 
 ample time and opportunity for making up your mind. I have 
 not the vanity to hope to allure by personal attractions or showy 
 qualities ', but if the disinterested love of a manly heart can win 
 your regard, I may trust that my offering will not be scorned. 
 I visited you last winter, and saw that you were not happily 
 situated. A more hasty lover would have spoken then : I would 
 not have your discontent with one home, influence your decision 
 in my offer of another would not have you self-deceived ; for 
 your happiness is dearer to me than mine. But now, you 
 are translated to a sphere, in which you are appreciated and 
 beloved, your- will is untrammelled by the restrictions of a stern 
 guardian-^-free to move, without the goad of desire to escape a 
 disagreeable lot. I have been very patient, Miss Ida."
 
 ALONE. 319 
 
 He had and she knew nothing of him but what was gene- 
 rous and honourable. His persevering attachment was guaranty 
 of its depth. Pleasant as her life was now, the death of her 
 guardian, or his widower-hood (she thought of such chances, in 
 these days of death and change ) would cast her out upon the 
 world alone and homeless as before. She had all the woman's 
 longing to be paramount in one heart, the sun and attraction 
 of a home. She could give her suitor but a sisterly regard, at 
 present; but she had been told that this culminated in a calm 
 affection, lasting through life mighty in death. The passionate 
 idolatry of earlier days was conquered by religion ; she believed 
 that it had subsided into friendship ; its hopelessness impelled 
 her to forget it how more effectually than in another love ? Her 
 colour fled, as it ever did, before powerful emotion, and the 
 fingers, while they went on, burying themselves in the glossy 
 brown heap, were icy cold. She must reply she looked up 
 not in the intelligent face handsome in its pure fervor of devo- 
 tion but beyond to where the blue sweep of the hills lay, 
 graceful and light, against the rosy horizon; and she gazed, until 
 her dark eyes were dilated and moveless, and her companion, 
 struck by their expression, looked to the same spot. He saw 
 but the hills, and the heavens, spanning them in crimson 
 glory she verily thought, as she stood, rooted to the earth, in 
 the dumb agony of memory, and recoiling at the fate, her tongue 
 had almost sealed, that she beheld as if the folds of that 
 glowing canopy were drawn aside the form and features of her 
 first what she knew now, was to be her only love ! that look- 
 ing back, from whatever height in life, she should see the 
 remembered lineaments distinct, unaltered, stamped upon that 
 part of the Past he had made radiant. 
 
 "Ida! do you never mean to marry?" inquired Charley, that 
 night. 
 
 " You gentleman say every girl will as soon as she has a good 
 offer;" was the rejoinder. 
 
 "Germaine is not an ( eligible' then ?" 
 
 " Who said anything about him ?" 
 
 "I did. I am unable, by any system of ratiocination with 
 which I am acquainted, to establish why a sensible, fancy-free
 
 320 ALONE. 
 
 lady should refuse a man, who is unexceptionable in morals, ' 
 behaviour, education, appearance and prospects." 
 
 "What an array of recommendations! what evidence have 
 you that I have committed this egregious folly ?" 
 
 " Your quibblings if nothing else. Deign to enlighten me 
 as to motive the act being granted. Why did you discard him ?" 
 
 "Because I did not love him, Charley."' 
 
 " That is to the point ! now why didn't you love him?' 
 
 " Because I could not." 
 
 "Not so good. Why couldn't you ?" 
 
 " Impertinent ! is love made to order ? As with a soda fount, 
 have you but to twist a screw in the heart, and it bubbles up for 
 any < unexceptionable,' who prays for it in a flowery speech ?" 
 
 " Jumping the question again ! What is your ideal husband 
 like?" 
 
 "He must be my master!" said Ida. " Mr. G-ermaine is kind 
 and excellent intelligent and gentlemanly; but my will would 
 never yield to his. He would say 'Shall I?' and 'will you?' 
 in matters where his interests, no less than mine, were involved. 
 My ideal says, gently, but decidedly < /think' < I will ?' " 
 
 " So our friend may ascribe his ill-success to his lack of Blue- 
 Beardishness ! Oh, woman ! thy name is caprice !" 
 
 Ida had scanty faith in the reality of his wonder, but most 
 of that expressed was genuine. " Such a fine young man ! well- 
 to-do in the world, and she so unprotected !" Carry had built 
 many castles in the air, upon Ida's presupposed acceptance of 
 her neighbor, and expostulated with her. 
 
 " Better a lonely, than a miserable life, dear Carry ;" wag 
 the reply. " I have my Bible to direct me, my Heavenly 
 Father to lean upon. While I obey Him, He will not leave 
 me friendless. As to the obloquy of old-maidism, I do not 
 dread it." 
 
 At the fall of the leaf, the town Danas returned home, and 
 Ida slipped into her place in the family, as though she had 
 always constituted a part of it. The time winged happily and 
 uneventfully along until Christmas. Dr. Carleton, Arthur and 
 Carry were with them then, and another visitor, Ida's name- 
 sake, and the miraculous prodigy of Poplar-grove; a lovely 
 babe, four months old ; with its father's hazel eyes, and the
 
 ALONE. 321 
 
 transparent skin, and bright flossy curls of its beautiful 
 mother. 
 
 On New Year's eve, the older members of both families col- 
 lected in the parlor, to greet the commencement of the new 
 cycle. Ida occupied an ottoman, between her guardian and 
 Charley ; chatting, with girlish vivacity, to the latter. Mrs. 
 Dana was in the opposite corner, in the shadow of the mantel, 
 conversing with her father ; but her voice shook at times, and 
 her eyes wandered constantly to her young friend. Ida did not 
 notice this, nor the sadness that tinged her guardian's fatherly 
 look, as he smoothed her chestnut hair for a long time, musingly. 
 She did not suspect he was thinking of her. He smiled, as she 
 threw up her eyes to his face, and rested her head against the 
 arm of his chair; but it was a fleeting light the uncertain 
 enjoyment of a pleasure, whose loss one anticipates. Finally he 
 spoke. 
 
 " Ida ! will you give your attention for a minute ?" 
 " For an hour, if you wish it, sir. I am all ear." 
 " You must be mouth, too for there are questions for you to 
 answer. Yesterday, in examining certain papers of Mr. Read's, 
 pertaining to the guardianship, I found a packet of letters, 
 mostly from your mother some from Mr. Grant, and one of 
 yours written after your illness at Sunnybank. You say 
 therein, that it was your mother's wish for you to take her 
 place, as mistress of the establishment there, so soon, as in his 
 judgment, you should be possessed of the ability; that there 
 were plans laid off, but unfinished by her, whose completion she 
 bequeathed to you; and you enclose a schedule, which sur- 
 prised me by the sound sense and foresight displayed in its 
 provisions and items. You conclude by declaring your prepos- 
 sessions for a country life, and the binding character of the duty, 
 which you conceived was' -resting upon you. I referred to your 
 mother's letters. It is not for us to censure the dead, but it is 
 amazing how Mr. Read could have slighted the desire, virtually 
 conveyed in every one of them, viz. : that it should be optional 
 with you, at what time after you had attained the age of eighteen, 
 and remained single, you should return to a home, to which, she 
 was assured conscience and affection would alike attract you. 
 She describes your strength of mind and purpose, when a child,
 
 322 ALONE. 
 
 as remarkable ; and says that she would not fear to entrust to 
 you, the execution of any directions concerning the business she 
 then superintended. My course is too plainly laid down for me 
 to deliberate or waver. In a year, you will be of age; your 
 judgment is as ripe now, as it will be then ; you are competent 
 to control yourself, and your subordinates. It is for you to say 
 whether you still consider it obligatory upon you, to anticipate 
 your legal majority." 
 
 There was a blank silence. Mrs. Dana alone, was not sur- 
 prised, and she had most pending upon the verdict. Ida hid 
 her face upon her guardian's arm. 
 
 "I would not trouble you needlessly, dear child;" he said, 
 passing his hand over her dark locks ; " else I would tell you 
 how dear you were to us, before you lived with us ; how doubly 
 dear you are now. If personal feeling were the arbiter in this 
 case, I would never have .made the statement you have heard to- 
 night ; and Jenny has not spoken, because foreseeing that her 
 affection might outrun her discretion, I exacted a promise ot 
 non-interference. Your home is here, dear Ida, as long as you 
 choose to make us happy by your presence. I repeat the deci- 
 sion rests with you." 
 
 " I do not know what to say. Determine for me, dear Mr. 
 Dana." 
 
 "I may not, my child." 
 
 "Carry ! Charley ! what ought I to do?" 
 
 Charley shook his head ; but Carry was not so prudent. " Oh ! 
 Ida ! your going will break sister's heart ; a year cannot make 
 much difference." 
 
 "If it is my duty at all, it is now, as much as then is it 
 not?" asked Ida, of Charley. 
 
 " I am afraid so ;" said he, seriously. 
 
 " Charley ! how can you !" exclaimed Carry. " One would 
 think you were willing to lose her ! You are young, Ida there 
 is no necessity for burying yourself alive, yet." 
 
 "Have a care, Carry! John is right she must decide;" cau- 
 tioned Arthur. 
 
 "One question, Ida," said Charley, kindly. "You have 
 revolved this issue often in your mind, even since you have been 
 with us have you not ?"
 
 ALONE. 323 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " You said, a year ago, you felt bound to fulfil your mother's 
 wishes, and that your inclinations leaned the same way how is 
 it now ? There is the case in a nut-shell." 
 
 " One hard to crack, nevertheless ;" said Ida, with glistening 
 eyes. " I love Sunnybank, and I have had misgivings that the 
 indulgence I meet here, may spoil me for the active, self-denying 
 life I must lead ; for I have always looked forward to a resi- 
 dence there, some time or other; but I am so happy here. 
 Still, Mr. Dana, I have a vast deal of surplus energy which ought 
 to be employed. I am not working with all my might. Does 
 this sound ungrateful ?" 
 
 " Not a bit of it I" struck in Charley's assuring tones. " It 
 is not that you love Caesar less, but Rome more." 
 
 " But it is so far I" objected Carry, " and so out-of-the-way. 
 Suppose you fall sick ! 0, brother John ! it is heartless to 
 send her off by herself !" 
 
 " She shall not go by herself, Carry. If she concludes to 
 leave us, it must not be before Spring ; then Jenny and I will 
 go with her. If she is convinced, upon trial, that she is inade- 
 quate to the enterprise, or dislikes it, we shall be too glad to 
 have her back. Grant is a respectable man, and an intelligent 
 farmer ; and she must secure a companion. You mentioned his 
 sister-in-law, I think, Ida ?" 
 
 "As to the distance," said Charley, "If those snail-like 
 fellows continue the railroad, as they say they will it will pass 
 within six miles of Sunnybank." 
 
 This was a ray of comfort ; yet Mrs. Dana burst into tears, 
 and Carry threw her arms around Ida, sobbing bitterly, as she 
 " feared she ought to go." 
 
 "Carry! Jenny! you must not!" said Charley. " She has 
 done her duty and should be encouraged. You are borrowing 
 trouble upon interest. Who can tell what may happen before 
 Spring? An earthquake, or the end of the world may stamp 
 < Finis' upon sublunary things, and you'll be ashamed of your- 
 selves for having anticipated evil." 
 
 He succeeded in calling up a smile, and Carry unintentionally 
 effected a further diversion. " Oh, Ida !" she sighed. "If 
 you had married Mr. Germaine !"
 
 32-4 
 
 ALONE 
 
 " I am happier as it is, Carry." 
 
 " I move a postponement of the subject, sine die j" said 
 Charley. " We must welcome in the year with a song. Come 
 to the piano, Carry. Ida, Arthur come ! we want a quartette." 
 
 They learned to speak of the coming separation with compo- 
 sure; but its shadow was upon all hearts, longer and blacker as 
 the time drew nearer. Ida sometimes debated with herself 
 whether she could be called to sever a relationship which had 
 taken such hold of her inmost soul. She was not supine or 
 useless; for the love a Christian's virtues gain, is indirectly 
 leading men to the Saviour; and every day she could animate 
 some drooping spirit, or alleviate some woe, were it only a 
 child's. Yet she was not performing labors commensurate with 
 her talents and energies ; she was upon the circumference of the 
 wheel ; Nature designed her for the centre and motive power. 
 There was a satisfaction in having the matter settled. She 
 had not the courage to introduce it herself; but her guardian's 
 straight-forward summing-up and appeal had convinced her, and 
 the rest of his hearers. A scheme, so uncommon, had opposers 
 and despisera in abundance. Some honestly lamented her 
 departure ; and many more insinuated at " family disagree- 
 ments" and " high-spirited young ladies." She was " Quixotic" 
 and "masculine," said others, boldly; and there were benevolent 
 friends who thought it a pity so much eloquence should be 
 wasted and carried faithful reports to the cause of the commo- 
 tion. Among the busiest in promulgating scandal, was Jose- 
 phine Read, until she was taught caution by a scathing rebuke 
 from Charley, inflicted publicly, in response to a sneer, not 
 meant for his ears; and of the opposite party, Ellen Morris' 
 unobtrusive grief affected Ida sadly. They seldom spoke of 
 Lynn ; but there was a tacit understanding that his memory 
 was the bond of their intimacy. Outwardly, Ellen was the 
 same only Ida knew that the spontaneity of her gaiety was no 
 more, and that the most brilliant jets were forced up by a 
 pressure, that would have destroyed the spring of most hearts. 
 On the second anniversary of Lynn's death, she came to invite 
 Ida to a walk showing a bouquet of spring flowers concealed 
 in her veil. Divining their destination, Ida turned their steps, 
 of her own accord, to the cemetery The spring was forward;
 
 ALONE. 325 
 
 so it had been the year he died ; but its young blossoms were 
 killed by the frost and snow which should have belonged to 
 winter and he perished with them ! The turf was green; the 
 evergreen rose, creeping over the headstone, was full of glossy 
 leaves and the violets upon his breast were budding. The girls 
 knelt on either side of the grave ; trimmed away the dead twigs 
 of the rose, plucked the sere leaves of the violet, and clipped the 
 ragged grass talking softly, as over a sleeping babe. Besides 
 themselves, there were no visitors in the grounds; and having 
 deposited their offering upon the mound, they sat down. Ellen's 
 arm was encircling Ida's waist, while one of the latter' s rested 
 on the grave. 
 
 " I may not do that," said Ellen, mournfully. Although 
 when it rains or snows at night, I weep to think how it beats 
 upon him, and pine to shelter him with my arms, when I am 
 here and I come often, Ida secretly ! I see him dead perhaps 
 murdered by me and I no more dare embrace that clay, as you 
 are doing, than the murderer would touch the body of his 
 victim, lest it should bleed afresh." 
 
 " This is morbid regret, Ellen. I was his sister and confidante. 
 You had nothing to do with his death ; if you had never parted, 
 the disease might have assailed him. The blight upon your heart 
 is deadly enough, without increasing it by unmerited self-re- 
 proach. Everything is so calm and sweet here, this afternoon, 
 and I have such a consoling surety that he is happy ! The 
 spirits of the loved return to earth are hovering about us 
 present, although unseen. He may be with us." 
 
 "'Do they love there still ?' " said Ellen. 
 
 " They do with a love purged from selfishness and doubt- 
 ings perfect pure ! Oh ! Ellen ! the bliss and holiness of 
 Heaven ! why do we love this world so well ?" 
 
 " They are loveless alike to me ; I have no hope or rest in 
 either. When he was here, I loved this earth, because he was 
 upon it; its charm has gone and can I thank, or revere Him 
 who bereaved me ?" 
 
 " My dear girl ! He smites to heal. In my short life, I have 
 
 studied His providences sufficiently to teach me that it is the 
 
 wise Physician, as well as the Father, who takes away our 
 
 hurtful delights, and rives our hearts. He waits now, Ellen, 
 
 28
 
 326 ALONE. 
 
 to infuse life His life, into your fainting soul to wind these 
 severed cords about His loving heart. This patient, boundless 
 love was our Lynn's dying hope ; and you will never be com- 
 forted until you accept it." 
 
 "It is easy to talk!" said Ellen, fretfully. "You cannot 
 understand a sorrow like mine." 
 
 " The heart knoweth its own bitterness, Ellen, and my life 
 has not been all sunshine. There are griefs, piercing and drying 
 up the spirit never revealed to man." 
 
 " I know that. Is not my soul shrouded in sackcloth drinking 
 wormwood and gall when my body is bedizened in its finest 
 array, and the sparkling wine reflecting the lying bloom, that 
 says I am glad and gay ! I envied you your mourning dress as 
 long as you wore it ; and when he was named by the hypocrites 
 who fawned upon him in life, I had to seem as unconcerned as 
 they; you 'had no need to stifle your sighs, for he was your 
 friend. I had denied him as my lover, while we were betrothed ; 
 I cannot publish it now. There is but one restraint upon my 
 despair. If, as you say, the spirits of beloved ones are with us, 
 and he is among the blest, he must be grieved, if they can 
 grieve that I contemn the Being he loves." 
 
 " Ellen ! this language is evidence that your chastisement is 
 not wanton injustice. Whether he hears you or not, you grieve 
 and insult your Maker by your mad words, the Saviour, to whom 
 you are indebted for being and comforts and friends who has 
 loved you from the beginning. You knelt to a creature He had 
 made ; He interposed the gate of death, to save you from the fate 
 of the idolater, and you ask to spend your life in bewailing your 
 affliction in showing your adoration of perishable dust, and 
 reviling your best Friend ! Is this your gratitude ?" 
 
 Ellen did not speak. Ida drew her closer. " My dearest 
 girl!" she said, "I do not reprove you in my own name. I 
 have been as guilty as yourself; and it is in remembrance of 
 the retribution which followed, I warn you in remembrance of 
 the love that forgave me, and bestowed peace and joy, in place 
 of disquiet and mourning, that I entreat you come to Jesus !" 
 
 " I cannot ! your pleadings are water upon a rock. I have 
 been thinking, as you were speaking, whether I cared to go to 
 Heaven and I painted it, gloriously beautiful, as holy men tel]
 
 ALONE. 327 
 
 us it is but without the love, my foolish vanity tempted me to 
 sport with, when it was mine for which I would imperil my 
 soul now and the Creator of that heaven, and its angels, and 
 fair sights and musio were delightless. Bather misery with 
 him, than every other joy without. Oh ! if he had known 
 how I loved him !" 
 
 Her head fell upon the tomb, and the tears rained upon the 
 turf. Ida wept, too but in pity. Ellen was perverse in her 
 hopeless sorrow her friend could only commit her to the tender 
 mercy she had besought her to seek. 
 
 " If you knew how Our Father loves you both, dear Ellen I" 
 she whispered, but there was no reply. 
 
 It was a trial to say farewell to that grave. She had visited 
 it ere the sods joined over it ; planted flowers there, and watered 
 them with tears; had sat there at sunset, and watched the 
 " long, bright pomp" he used to love ; had learned there lessons 
 of contentment and charity, and active usefulness, " while the 
 day lasted." Next to one other green heap, where the willow 
 shadows were dancing, this was the dearest spot on earth to 
 her. She seemed brought so near to Lynn by the sight of it ; 
 and as she had kissed his white brow in death, she pressed her 
 lips to the marble, with a murmur of regretful fondness 
 " Brother !"
 
 A L ON E . 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 JOHN DANA, his wife and little ones, attended Ida to Sunny- 
 bank. They arrived late at night, tired and sleepy ; but their 
 sunrise matins were caroled by Ida, as she sang a lively hymn 
 in the breakfast-room, under the guest-chamber, She roamed 
 briskly to and fro, rummaging side-boards and peeping into 
 closets. 
 
 " Jest like you used- to do, Miss Ida I" said Aunt Judy. Law 
 me ! this comes of faith. I allers said I should live to deliver 
 up them keys into your hands. And you've come home for 
 good, honey ?" 
 
 " Yes, Aunt Judy come to stay with, and take care of you. 
 That's for good/ isn't it ?" 
 
 " To be sure ! It's a mighty 'sponsibility, honey !" 
 
 "She'll have strength given her to bear it I" said Will, behind 
 her. " It's time your biscuits were baking, Aunt Judy, and 
 you're talking about 'sponsibility !" 
 
 " I shall depend upon you, Uncle Will," said Ida. The 
 servants were easily controlled while mother's influence was at 
 work. How they will submit to one of my age and experience 
 remains to be seen." 
 
 " Mr. Grant keeps them tolerably straight, ma'am. I can't 
 say it's exactly as 'twas in her time, but they'll break in pretty 
 easy, I reckon. An overseer, no matter how smart and good, 
 aint a marster or mistis. We get our victuals and clothes, and 
 look just the same, but there's nobody to ride down from 'the 
 house/ after planting, and hoeing, and harvesting's done, and 
 say, well done, boys !' and at night, when we, whose quarters 
 are in the yard, come up, it's so dark and lonesome, and still, 
 and the doors and windows all shut, it makes us low-spirited 
 like 'twas no use to work and Sunday we feel it then !" 
 
 " So you are rather glad I am back again ?" 
 
 " Glad I mistis ! I couldn't be more pleased if you was my own 
 child ! We need you, ma'am ; we need you !" 
 
 "Still, as Aunt Judy says, it's a great responsibility."
 
 ALONE. 
 
 " You're one of the Lord's lambs, mistis. He will provide." 
 He went out, and Ida caught up his last words, and through 
 
 the dark nooks and reverberating galleries of the old house, 
 
 sounded the refrain 
 
 " ' His call we obey, like Abram of old, 
 
 Not knowing our way, but faith makes us bold, 
 
 For 'though we are strangers, we have a good guide, 
 
 And trust in all dangers, the Lord will provide!'" 
 
 She met her guests with a kiss, and a jingle of the key- 
 basket, and seating them at table, poured out the coffee; refuting 
 Mr. Dana's objection that his was too sweet, by the Irish lady's 
 answer to a similar complaint from General Washington 
 " Shure, and if 'twas all sugar, 'twouldn't be too good for yer 
 Honor I" piled the children's plates with buttered cakes 
 rattling all the while of her dignities, possessions and " 'sponsi- 
 bility." After finding a clean grass plat for the children's play- 
 ground, she challenged Mrs. Dana to a stroll over the house 
 and garden. It was an old-fashioned family mansion, rambling 
 and picturesque ; some rooms wainscotted to the ceiling, and 
 lighted by rows of narrow windows, with surprisingly small 
 panes. These were chambers: the lower story, the parlour, 
 dining-room, and the apartments appropriated to her mother and 
 herself, were light, large, and finished in a more modern style. 
 Mrs. Dana preferred the antique. The massive furniture suited 
 them so well, and it was interesting to think of the generations 
 they had known what stories they would relate if the panelled 
 oak could speak. 
 
 " With a little variation, they would tell one of all," replied 
 Ida. " They were born, suffered, joyed and died !" And she 
 thought how she had gone through all, except the last, within 
 these walls. The garden was ploughed up. There was no 
 comeliness in it, but it was less desolate than when overgrown 
 with weed. 
 
 The soil is fertile," said Mr. Grant. We shall have vege- 
 tables worth showing this summer, Miss Ida. Mr. Dana sends 
 his respects, and will you step into the parlour ? we would like 
 to consult you." 
 
 Ida composed her face into a Malvo-io expression of solemnity 
 and conceit ; pompously apologised tc Mrs. Dana, and obeyed. 
 28*
 
 530 ALONE. 
 
 But the account books were shut, and her guardian was luxu- 
 riating in an arm-chair and a cigar. 
 
 " Mr. Grant and myself have been investigating and comparing 
 accounts, Ida/' he said ; and the result is highly creditable 
 to him and those in his service. Without wearying you with 
 particulars, I have set down the sums total here. You perceive 
 that the crops have met the expenditures of the plantation; and 
 each year, the nett profits have surpassed those of the preceding 
 a proof that your land is constantly improving. This, as I 
 said, is to be attributed to Mr. Grant's judicious management. 
 Your servants are well fed and clothed, and the doctor's bill 
 trifling in its amount. Praise is also due to Mr. Head. I 
 approve entirely of the investments he has made of the funds, 
 left after the necessary disbursements for expenses. Your 
 money is safe and not idle. You were fortunate in your stew- 
 ards, and assume the control of an unincumbered estate, under 
 most favorable auspices." 
 
 " I am indeed grateful to Providence, and to them, sir. It 
 is not my wish, however, to release you from your guardianship. 
 I cannot do it nominally, as yet, and after the law shall permit 
 it, I shall still rely upon you for direction. A woman is not 
 fitted to be a financier. It is a trespass upon your time and 
 goodness, but I cannot endure that you should give me up." 
 
 " Nor I, my child. You will never ask advice or assistance 
 from me in vain. If your measures are ill-advised, I shall 
 oppose them, and forward your interest by every means in my 
 power." 
 
 " Thank you, sir. I was unjust to question this for an instant. 
 You feared to weary me with particulars ; you have no other 
 objection to my looking into them ?" 
 
 "None, certainly." 
 
 She pored over the columns attentively, and her guardian 
 felt his respect for her rising still higher, as the deep thought- 
 fulness which had its home in the eyes and brow, slowly covered 
 the face. It was no common mind speaking there il^was com- 
 petent to its work. A gleam of pleasure shot across her counte- 
 nance, as she concluded the examination. Dipping a pen into 
 the standish,.she sketched rapidly a calculation upon a sheet of 
 paper, and spread it before Mr. Dana.
 
 ALONE. 331 
 
 " I registered a vow, years ago, that my maiden enterprise, 
 when I should come into office, should be the establishment of 
 a charity school. You have there an estimate of the amount 
 needed to put it into operation not guess-work, but the actual 
 sums I will have to expend for teacher's salary, books and furni- 
 ture, repair of .the room, and a small remainder for contingent 
 expenses. This knowledge I have gained by inquiry of those 
 familiar with these things. I am confounded at the paltry total 
 I interpret that arch of the eyebrows/' she continued, laugh, 
 ing, '< but before you cast any obstacle in my way, listen dear 
 Mr. Dana ! I have kept an e expense-book' ever since I can 
 recollect. During the first winter and spring of my going into 
 society in Richmond, I spent more than that in dresses and 
 ornaments the two summers I passed with Carry, previous to 
 her marriage, as much more, for it was a fashionable country 
 neighborhood, and in such, the passion for show and ostentation 
 is not a whit less than in the city. The price I should pay for 
 board elsewhere, will meet my personal expenses here ; I have 
 no near relatives for whom to economise, and there are scores of 
 children, growing up around me, destitute of education, except 
 that bestowed gratis by poverty and vice." 
 
 "I commend your resolution, my daughter," this was his 
 phrase of greatest endearment but it is a weighty undertaking 
 for a young person, and a woman. If commenced, it must be 
 prosecuted vigorously, or it will do more harm than good. One 
 session will hardly suffice for a beginning. This appropriation, 
 which is a liberal deduction from your income, small as you 
 deem it, is not for this year alone. Hitherto your affairs have 
 prospered, but you may have reverses. A failure of crops, which 
 not unfrequently happens to others, would embarrass you con- 
 siderably." 
 
 I would draw upon my invested funds." 
 
 And if stocks fall, or a bank breaks ?" 
 
 " And what is more probable than that all these misfortunes 
 will crowd upon, me at once, I may die !" said Ida, with per- 
 suasive gravity, "and when my Heavenly Master demands the 
 reckoning of my stewardship, I shall render in the plea, < Lo ! 
 here is Thy talent, hid in a napkin !' He has given me if 
 not riches more than a competency for my wants. It may not
 
 832 ALONE. 
 
 be worldly-wise, dear guardian, but it is Christian-like, to give 
 of my present abundance, and trust that he will be as bountiful 
 in time to come, as He has been until now." 
 
 " There's sense and religion in that I" commented Mr. Grant, 
 admiringly. 
 
 "He that giveth to the poor, lendeth to the Lord," said 
 Ida, smiling in her guardian's face. " What think you of the 
 security, Mr. Dana?" 
 
 " That your faith shames my caution. Assuming that the 
 plan is feasible and prudent in its main points, let us descend to 
 the minutiae ' Repairs of building' where is the room ?" 
 
 Ida pointed from the window to a house in the yard. " My 
 father built it for an office my mother used it as a lumber- 
 room. The plastering has fallen, and the roof leaks, but Will 
 tells me the plantation carpenter and bricklayer can put it in 
 good order. They can make the desks and benches too." 
 
 " ' Books' this is the probable outlay, I suppose." 
 
 "It is computed from a list of prices, furnished by a book- 
 seller." 
 
 " Now, last and most important the teacher. Is it to be a 
 girls' or a boys' school ?" 
 
 " For girls, mainly ; but small boys will be admitted. Large 
 ones might be refractory to a lady." 
 
 " You will have an instructress, then ? Where will she 
 board ?" 
 
 " Here. Shall I not have a spinster household ?" 
 
 " With Miss Betsey to matronise you. You will be fastidious 
 in your selection, as she is to be a member of your family. Your 
 provident brain has not picked her out, surely ?" 
 
 " You will laugh when I say that I have one in view ; but I 
 am hesitating as to the propriety of making her an offer. I 
 have no false pride to prevent me from engaging in honest 
 labor ; but very sensible people, in other respects, are troubled 
 with this weakness. Neither do I mean to term mine a < charity 
 school,' in consideration for pride of a more commendable kind, 
 which the parents may have. The teacher will be my equal 
 and companion. Without interfering with her government, I 
 shall be as well known to the pupils as herself; if she is absent 
 or sick, be her substitute; yet she may regard the situation as
 
 ALONE. 333 
 
 too humble. Did you ever see a school-fellow of Carry's named 
 Emma Glenn, a modest, sweet-looking girl ?" 
 
 " Glenn ! I cannot recall her. She is your choice ?" 
 
 "Yes, sir. She is, like myself, an orphan. Anna Talbot 
 awakened my sympathies for her, by relating how and where 
 she saw her last summer. She is dependent upon her own 
 exertions, and for two years has taught in the family of an 
 uncle, for the miserable stipend think of it, sir ! of fifty dollars 
 a year ! for instructing six children, two of whom, sleep in her 
 chamber ; and her position is uncomfortable from various other 
 causes. She was universally beloved at school ; and her stand- 
 ing for scholarship, unquestionable. Can it be more humiliating 
 to labor as my colleague, than the despised beneficiary of a 
 niggardly relative ?" 
 
 " I imagine not," he rejoined, smiling. " What is your notion, 
 Mr. Grant, of this hair-brained young lady ?" 
 
 " That we should all be better, and I am not sure, but wiser 
 too, for some of her spirit " he replied. 
 
 "I am not, I hope, thoughtlessly sanguine, Mr. Dana;" 
 pursued Ida. " I expect discouragement and difficulties, for I 
 know the class I have to deal with. It is no girl's ambition to 
 play lady patroness that spurs me on in this task. The idea 
 originated with my mother, and was a darling scheme of hers 
 and mine ; but was laid low with many other benevolent plans 
 laid by, I should say for my prayer and aim are to prove 
 myself worthy of my parentage. Few females at my age are 
 placed in my circumstances ; and I do not court notoriety or 
 responsibility, although some will have it so. Constant, stirring 
 exercise is as indispensable to my mind as body. Forgive me, 
 dear sir; but I have been distressed by an occasional misgiving, 
 that you thought me unfeminine, regardless of public opinion. 
 I love my friends as dearly, truly as any one; I have no relish 
 for masculine pursuits ; I would have woman move in her God- 
 appointed sphere ; but if He has endowed me with talents and 
 opportunity for extending my usefulness, I fear not to improve 
 them. Do you understand me ?" 
 
 " My daughter ! must I say, that next to my wife, you are 
 nearer to me than any woman living ? and I respect and honor, 
 as much as I love you. Where is the mammet of fashion 1
 
 31 ALONE. 
 
 would consult and trust as I do you ? You are honestly striving 
 with a purpose, and hoping for no plaudit but ' she hath done 
 what she could. ' How many ndstake the limit of their < could !' 
 Go on as you have begun, and you will develope the highest 
 type of female character. That I have not .said this much 
 before, is because I am a man of few words ; and you appeared 
 to shun open praise." 
 
 Mr. Grant, seeing they were forgetting him, had, with native 
 delicacy, stepped without the door, upon pretext of speaking to 
 a passing laborer. 
 
 Ida was moved even to tears, by her guardian's unqualified 
 encomium, so feelingly uttered. The esteem of such a man was, 
 of itself a reward for her conflicts with self and outward tempta- 
 tions. She had so much to be thankful for ! she said over and 
 over, that day. She was at home ! at Sunnybank ! the air was 
 purer the water clearer the birds merrier, there than any- 
 where else ; and there was abiding tranquillity in the thought 
 that she might live and die under the roof-tree that sheltered her 
 cradle ; an enlargement of heart and kindliness as she beheld her 
 dependents rejoicing in her restoration to them ; looking to her 
 for support and happiness. And that mother's grave was there ! 
 She sat there a long hour at even-tide. The willow leaflets were 
 just putting out, and the swaying of the flexile boughs was 
 slight and noiseless. There was a hush in the air not a dead 
 calm but a solemn pause, as if Nature had folded her busy 
 hands to return devout thanks for mercies past, and gather 
 strength for future labor. Ida was no sickly dreamer now. 
 She knew life, as it is a day ! only a day divide and sub- 
 divide as we may, the morning hallowed by some with early 
 prayer squandered by more in trifling ; the noon, waxing to 
 its height over reeking brows and panting chests, and straining 
 arms ; the evening, relaxing the strung muscles, and curdling 
 the bounding blood, and bringing to each his meed, righteous 
 recompense for his deeds, fair or foul ; and the night black- 
 browed angel, saying to the vexed brain, "Thy work is ended !" 
 spreading his hands over the swelling heart-wave, and it is still ! 
 bidding the harassed body " Sleep on now and take your rest." 
 She knew life, and that to the God-fearing toiler in His vineyard, 
 there is no rest until nigh*. He is not denied the inhalation of
 
 ALONE. 335 
 
 the odorous breeze, and a pause in the shade to wipe his heated 
 brow; but he must not swerve from his furrow to seek it. 
 Flowers, whose kindred blossom in Paradise, smile up from the 
 unsightly clods, and these ' he may wear in his bosom, leaving 
 unculled the poppies and almond-laurel which flaunt near by ; 
 content in knowing but this, what is his work, and bending, 
 training every power to the strenuous endeavor to do it. 
 
 Mr. Dana stayed but three days ; his family prolonged their 
 visit into as many weeks ; nor would Ida have resigned them 
 then, had not Emma been daily expected ; for the school was a 
 fixed fact. Accompanied and guarded by the faithful Will, Ida 
 had explored the woods, gullies and old fields for recruits. Her 
 determined spirit bore her out, or she would have thrown up the 
 project by the end of the first day. She chose what Will called 
 the " toughest cases " for her freshest energies. 
 
 " The Digganses " lived in a rickety hut, in the exact centre 
 of a common of broom straw, mowed down to stubble, for ten 
 feet around the door said area populated at Ida's visit, by five 
 white-headed children, three hounds, and two terrier puppies, a 
 full-grown grunter and a brood of little ones, and half a dozen 
 meagre fowls. The hounds bayed ; the terriers squeaked their 
 shrill treble ; the pigs squealed, and made for the high straw ; 
 the human animals scampered squallingly, into the house; while 
 Ida's horse to complete the hubbub set up a frightened neigh, 
 and would have run, but for Will's grip. Without waiting for 
 Mrs. Diggans' "Light! won't you ?" she sprang from the saddle. 
 The hostess came to the door with a greasy, steaming kettle in 
 one hand, and the flesh-fork in the other. She deposited thenj 
 upon the ground, wiped her hands upon her begrimmed apron, 
 and offered her right. Ida blessed the ignorance of Fashion's 
 laws in these regions, which did not compel her to remove her 
 gloves. The cabin did not belie the promise of the exterior. It 
 was dingy and dirty, scented with bacon and cabbage, and an 
 indescribable smell, as" of a musty cupboard, converted into a 
 sleeping-room. Yet these people were not disreputable, in the 
 ordinary acceptation of the word. They had never been convicted 
 of theft or drunkenness. Indolence and improvidence kept 
 them down, for they were never " up." They were as well 
 off now as when they married ; if the children came faster
 
 336 ALONE. 
 
 than the bread, they begged or borrowed of their " lucky" 
 neighbors. 
 
 " I'm mighty pleased to see you !" said Mrs. Diggans, dusting 
 a wooden cricket with the convenient apron. " How much 
 you've growed like your mother. Good Fathers ! I never see 
 two folks more alike. You've done come home to live, I've 
 heern." 
 
 " I hope so, ma'am." 
 
 "You didn't like town-folks, I 'spose ?" 
 
 " Yes, ma'am ; I have some good friends there, but I think 
 my place is here." 
 
 " TSm-hum ! well you ain't married ?" 
 
 " Oh ! no, ma'am." 
 
 " But you're goin' to be, I reckon ?" slyly. 
 
 "Not that I know of. But how are you getting on, Mrs. 
 Diggans ?" 
 
 " Ah, Miss Idy ! in the same old way ; can't never make 
 both ends jine, but somehow we lives and fattens." 
 
 " How many children have you ?" 
 
 " Six my biggest girl is out, visitin' her father's kin." 
 
 " Is it possible ! I must be growing old. I recollect when 
 you were married. You wore your wedding-dress' the next 
 Sunday, and I thought it was so fine." 
 
 "I wonder if you do?" said the flattered Mrs. Diggans. 
 " Who'd a thought it ? and you so young ! One of my chil- 
 dren's named after you Ide-e-e !" with a car-whistle termina- 
 tion. " Gome here this minute ! I liked it, 'cause 'twas a pretty 
 name sort o' high-soundin' you know Ide-e-e-e !" 
 
 Ida had occular evidence of this, new beauty of her cognomen. 
 
 " And your mother was allers mighty kind to me ah ! she 
 was a lady every inch of her ! Ide-e-e-e ! if you don't come 
 'long, I'll spank you well !" 
 
 And " Idee" sneaked in, fist in her mouth, and scraped her 
 bare toes in a frightfully flesh-crawling, provoking manner, while 
 her namesake informed her of their relation to each other. 
 
 "How old are you, Ida?" 
 
 "Going on seven j" answered the mother. 
 
 " Can you read ?" 
 
 "Bless your life, Miss Idy ! I don't have time to teach them,
 
 ALONE. 337 
 
 nor their father neither. Mercy knows how they are to git 
 any learnin'. Poor folks don't need much, but its more 
 re-spectable to know how to read and write." 
 
 " But you can read, Mrs. Diggans." 
 
 " I used to could." 
 
 " You do not object to their being taught if you are not 
 troubled about it ?" 
 
 " No-o. I reckon not but who's a goin' to do it ? thar's 
 the rub !" 
 
 " I will have it done." 
 
 "You! Miss Ida! oh oh! teachin' poor folk's chillen ain't 
 for the likes of you. "We've scuffled along without edication, 
 and so must they." 
 
 " Say you will send them, Mrs. Diggans, and I pledge you 
 my word they shall be as carefully attended to, as if they were 
 the richest in the land." 
 
 She explained her plan. Mrs. Diggans demurred. 
 
 " She couldn't spar Maria Julia, and Anne Marthy was too 
 little to walk so far; then their clothes warn't fitten. She 
 was mighty obliged, jest as much as if she had a-sent' em." 
 
 I am very sorry," said Ida. " I came here first, knowing 
 your attachment to our family. I am really desirous you should 
 oblige me. I am so disappointed." 
 
 Mrs. Diggans relented. " If they had decent clothes, Miss 
 Idy. See them dirty rags I" 
 
 " Their clothing must be whole and clean, certainly. Promise 
 they shall attend all the session, and I will give them a suit 
 apiece." 
 
 "You're too good, Miss Idy jest like your ma! We'll talk 
 about it." 
 
 " I must have an answer now. My number is limited, as 
 there will be but one teacher. How many shall I put down ?" 
 producing paper and pencil. 
 
 " Only two ! but that is better than none. < For the entire 
 session,' Mrs. Diggans ; I trust to your word." 
 
 " I keeps a promise when I makes it. Set 'em down." 
 
 " Hard customers, Mistis !" said Will, as they remounted. 
 
 "Bather, Uncle Will; yet I dread our next visit as much. 
 Does Mr. Pinely drink now ?" 
 
 29
 
 338 ALONE. 
 
 "When he can get money or beg liquor. I feel mean, when 
 he stops me in the road, to borrow a fourpence. ' Ah, Will !' 
 he says, e thriving and likely as when you drove your master's 
 carriage after his bride your late lamented mistis ! You don't 
 happen to have a fourpence in your pocket, my boy ? Unfor- 
 tunately, I'm out of change. Thank you, my fine fellow I'll 
 remember you my lad !' I can't deny him, Mistis. He knowcd 
 your father well, when they were both young men a smart, 
 handsome gentleman he was ! and to think I" 
 
 " And to see I" thought Ida, as the house peeped through the 
 trees, with unglazed windows, crumbling chimney, and sunken 
 roof. It was presented to him by her father a neat, comfort- 
 able cottage. His wife died of a broken heart ; the children 
 were saved from starvation and freezing, times without number, 
 by her mother. How they subsisted now, was an impenetrable 
 mystery ; for the father never did a stroke of work, and loafed 
 around the country, thrusting himself upon the hospitality of 
 those with whom he had associated in former years, wearing hia 
 welcome not threadbare, but into shreds, before he let go. 
 In a beggar's garb, and soliciting alms from the slaves of his old 
 companions, he retained the boastful swagger and ornate language 
 which earned for him, in youth, the soubriquet of " Pompous 
 Pinely." 
 
 The eldest daughter was sitting upon the door-step, dressed 
 almost in tatters ; her matted hair twisted up with a tinsel comb 
 a gift from her father, in a generously drunken fit; and 
 the remnants of a pair of silk stockings hanging about a neatly 
 turned foot and ankle. Her face was clean ; and Ida could not 
 but observe its beauty, as she blushed and smiled an embarrassed 
 welcome. 
 
 " You have not forgotten me, Laura ; but you have grown 
 so, I scarcely knew you. Are you all well ?" 
 
 Except papa, who has a headache. Walk in." 
 
 " No, thank you. It is pleasant out here." She seated herself 
 upon a block beside the door. " Where are the children ?" 
 
 Gone to look for strawberries." 
 
 Isn't it too early for them ?" 
 
 Fm afraid so but they wanted some so badly."
 
 ALONE. 339 
 
 Ida suspected, from her stammering, thai more substantial 
 food would have been as acceptable. 
 
 "I came partly on business, Laura," she hastened to say, 
 apprehending an irruption from the interior. " I am trying to 
 get up a school in the neighborhood, to be taught at Sunnybank, 
 by a friend of mine " 
 
 " Miss floss ! do I in truth, have the felicity ?" Ida groaned 
 in spirit. The softened image of my ever lamented friend !" 
 continued the inebriate, whose headache was easily accounted 
 for. Putting his hand to his heart, he heaved a profound sigh. 
 "Ah! my dear young lady ! may you have the inheritance of 
 his transcendant virtues, as of his faultless physiognomy ! Laura, 
 my daughter have you offered our guest refreshments T' 
 
 " Excuse me, sir ! I have not time to partake of them. I was 1 
 apologising to Laura for my first visit being a business call." 
 
 "She wants to open a school up at Sunnybank, papa. Do 
 let us go!" cried the girl, eagerly. His face wore a mask of 
 extreme concern. 
 
 " It cannot be ! the righteous Fates can never be so oblivious 
 to unparalleled excellence as to ordain that you the solitary 
 scion of an aristocratic race, shall be reduced by unpropitious 
 vicissitudes, to the necessity of maintaining yourself by the 
 arduous employment of imparting instruction to the juvenile 
 mind !" 
 
 " A friend is to be the instructress, sir. I shall exercise a 
 general supervision." 
 
 "What a mountain you remove! I trembled at the sup- 
 position that you were precipitated upon the frozen charities 
 of a mercenary world. Ah, my young friend ! the most shameful 
 part of human hypocrisy is the heartless repudiation of unmerited 
 exigency !" 
 
 " May we go, papa ?" persisted the daughter. '! so want 
 to learn !" 
 
 " My beloved ! wariness is indispensable in the adjudication 
 of a measure vitally affecting your intellectual progress. Is your 
 friend versed in classical lore, Miss Ross?" 
 
 This absurdity was almost a match for Ida's forbearance. 
 " Her recommendations cannot be impeached, Mr. Finely," she 
 said, spiritedly.
 
 340 ALONE. 
 
 " I solicit no further assurance, Miss Ross, than your appro- 
 bation of her qualifications. You have my paternal sanction, 
 my daughter. Moderate your transports, my love !" She had 
 clapped her hands. " Pray assign her extravaganzas to the 
 intensity of her admiration of your lovesome self, Miss Ross. 
 I blush at the trivialness of the reference but my income is 
 not what it was, when your father and myself were twin-souls. 
 The remorseless falchion of Time cleaves down rank and fortune 
 in his flight. The remuneration, Miss Ross ! If the scanty 
 pecuniary assistance I can render your fair friend will ameliorate 
 her hardships, my < bosom's lord will sit lightly on its throne !' " 
 
 Ida curtly told him, "no tuition fees were demanded." 
 
 " That materially alters the aspect of your proposition. My 
 munificent lady ! this is a flagrant spoliation of yourself I" 
 
 " I do not consider it as such, sir." 
 
 " Your enthusiastic philanthropy misleads you. 1 cannot be an 
 accomplice to this generous fraud. My children remain in their 
 own habitation unless your friend accepts compensation for her 
 toils." 
 
 Laura looked ashamed and sorrowful, and Ida restrained her 
 indignant contempt. "We will not differ about a trifle, Mr. 
 Finely. The terms and time of payment are subject to your 
 discretion and convenience. I may enter your little ones 
 Laura included ? There are three, besides yourself, Laura ?" 
 
 " They are docile to the flower-wreathed wand of moral suasion, 
 Miss Ross, but may betray obduration if sterner means arc 
 employed. Of corporeal punishment we will not speak; the 
 rod would fall barbless, from the lily digits of gentle woman." 
 
 " You will come to school, Monday week ;" Ida was saying 
 to Laura : <{ but do not wait until then to pay me a visit. I 
 must have a long talk with you. Good bye." 
 
 Tears stood in Laura's eyes. Already she regarded her bene- 
 factress with feelings bordering upon devotion. Ida, in her sober 
 ride, turning over the degradation and misery whose alleviation 
 seemed impracticable, had no suspicion of the leaven she had 
 hidden in the heavy lump.
 
 ALONE. 
 
 OHAPTEK XXIX 
 
 ANNA TALBOT'S sketch of Emma's privations was not over- 
 drawn. If her condition had been tolerable, an offer from Ida 
 Ross, as she recollected her, proud and unsociable, would not 
 have tempted her to change it. But Ida was honorable and 
 liberal, despite her haughtiness ; and in her uncle's family, she 
 was an ill-paid under-servant. Ida sent her carriage and servants 
 for her ; and this regard for her comfort, while it called forth 
 the contumely of her employers, raised her hopes of a friendly 
 reception. 
 
 " There's my mistis in the porch," said Will, leaning down 
 from his perch, to speak to his fair passenger. They were 
 driving up an avenue, closed by a house, which, to Emma's 
 modest eyes, was an imposing architectural pile. A haze dimmed 
 her vision ; in her agitation, she saw nothing of the awful figure 
 Will pointed out, but the nutter of white drapery. The great 
 yard-gates were open, and the carriage rolled over the gravelled 
 circle which swept by the main entrance. She did not recognise 
 the frank, sweet face that appeared at the carriage-door, but 
 the voice was not to be forgotten. '' I am very glad you are 
 come !" it said, and the kiss and the embrace verified the welcome. 
 " How changed I" was the thought of each. Emma was thin, 
 and when the glow of the meeting faded dejected. She looked, 
 to Ida, like one who had been subjected to a constant weight, 
 bending body and heart, almost to breaking, as if the one 
 feather more would end the torture. And her own spirit, gaining 
 buoyancy day by day, under its discipline, gathered force from 
 the necessity of restoring the lost elasticity to another's. She 
 conducted her school-fellow to a chamber, once hers, and adjoining 
 that she now occupied ; divested her of her heavy hat and shawl, 
 and commanded her imperatively to "lie down." Emma 
 reposed her weary limbs upon a luxurious mattress ; the breeze 
 waving the spotless curtains, and whispering of green hills, and 
 cool forests and violet banks ; her hostess, after vainly attempt- 
 29*
 
 342 ALONE. 
 
 ing to persuade her that she required sleep bathing her head 
 with fragrant waters, and talking in inspiriting, affectionate 
 tones, which were more than manna to her hungry heart. Mrs 
 Dana had gone the preceding day, and Emma was soon con- 
 vinced that she had done a charitable most meritorious deed, 
 in arriving when she did; but she smiled, as she heard the 
 lively voice dilate upon the " horrors" and " azure imps," that 
 had infested the house while she was sole occupant "always 
 excepting my chaperon and soi-disant housekeeper, good Miss 
 Betsey soi-disant as I am, in point of fact, housekeeper myself. 
 I have a great fancy to see to everything with my own eyes. 
 We are retired here I wrote this, you know but there are 
 some agreeable families within visiting distance. I am delighted 
 at having a helper in the labor of receiving and returning visits ; 
 and my rides and walks will be doubly pleasant. Are you fond 
 of out-door exercise ?" 
 
 " Very but I have neglected the duty for a year or two past." 
 " You shall not be so remiss here. I intend to be exacting. 
 A gallop before breakfast, and a walk not a promenade 
 before tea, will plant bright roses in these white cheeks. "When 
 you are rested, we will unlock our budget of news. Having 
 been apart for so long, each, will have a week's steady talk." 
 
 When she arose, revived in spirits and strength, she was 
 taken over the premises " to see her home." Mr. Grant was 
 introduced, and doffed his hat as to a queen; the negroes were 
 respectfully cordial to the friend of their mistress; but more than 
 all, Ida's bearing assured the trampled-down orphan, that she 
 was here second to none superior in command and importance 
 to all, except the head of the establishment. It may have been 
 the earnestness, which was the prevailing element of Ida'? 
 character, or her sympathetic nature, (Charley affirmed it was 
 the latter,) which made it impossible for those who knew her, 
 to be indifferent, or lukewarm in their sentiments towards her. 
 Mr. Read, Josephine and Pemberton, having seen the wrong 
 side of her disposition, hated her with a rancor, benefits nor 
 patient efforts could appease. Her chosen intimates found no 
 mate for their affection, but in their esteem and respect. Lynn's 
 love for her was more like worship than that he entertained for
 
 ALONE. 343 
 
 Ellen adored as she was ; with Carry, she had no compeer of 
 her sex ; the exceeding tenderness of John Dana and his wife 
 was a mystery to themselves; and in Charley's heart she had 
 the highest place taking rank even of the brother, to whom 
 he had sacrificed his hopes of earthly bliss. Emma experienced, 
 and yielded to the charm; she could not have resisted suc- 
 cessfully, if she would; for Ida was determined to attach her 
 to herself, and her indomitable resolution would have accom- 
 plished this, had her attractive qualities been less winningly 
 displayed. From the moment of her arrival, Emma improved, 
 and as the beautiful tracery of her character came out, to reward 
 the warm rays love poured over it, Ida was confirmed in hei 
 satisfaction at her choice. She had not entire confidence in hei 
 ability to control the restive spirits, which had run wild, without 
 rule or rein ; but this fear vanished with a careful observation 
 of her government and its results. If the <' wand" was "flower- 
 wreathed," it was no supple or brittle reed, to bend or snap in 
 the storm. None, who had once rebelled against her mild autho- 
 rity, were ever inclined to repeat the offence. 
 
 If, as had been asserted, Ida sought the Utopia of her fancifuJ 
 dreams in her " return to Palestine," as she playfully styled it ; 
 if her ideas of country life were drawn from pastorals and 
 romances, she would have sunk under the drawbacks and iron 
 realities she encountered. Her influence over her servants was 
 strong; but among so many, insubordination reared its head, 
 now and then. The idle and sulky, deceived by her amenity 
 and care for their welfare, appealed from Mr. Grant's decisions 
 to her clemency ; and with so much plausibility, that when this 
 mode of undermining his laws was new, she was ready to sustain 
 them. Consistent, however, to her principle of examining both 
 sides of a question, she refused to reverse any decree, before 
 hearing all the circumstances; and invariably, when this was 
 done, ratified the original judgment. There were old and 
 privileged supernumeraries who talked of her father's child- 
 hood, as a thing of yesterday ; and volunteering the advantage 
 of their experience for the benefit of the "poor chile," tossed 
 their heads high at the idea of her controlling or enlightening 
 them. Adding to self-righteousness, the whims and peevishness
 
 344 
 
 ALONE. 
 
 of age, they caused Ida more annoyance than the management 
 of the whole estate besides; and hardly less than the never- 
 ending vexations of the Digganses, and their neighbors of the 
 same stamp, not to mention Finely most wearisorr,e of all. He 
 penned voluminous epistles, to complain of " a trivial oversight 
 in her otherwise irreproachable system of philanthropy," or 
 to convey a " father's acknowledgments for the soul-elevating 
 teachings of which his beloved offspring were accipients ;" and 
 when 'they were unnoticed, his visits were frequent. She 
 received him with distant politeness ; and strove to repress his 
 forwardness by chilling dignity and he came again next day. 
 At last he presented himself in the parlor, where were Emma 
 and herself so intoxicated, that he could not stand upright. 
 His tongue was oily as ever, notwithstanding his limbs refused 
 to do their office; and when Will entered, in answer to the 
 vehement ring, he was holding the door with both hands, swing- 
 ing it with him in his attempts to bow to the ladies, he was 
 addressing as, " incomparable pair ! whose supereminent enchant- 
 ments are confessed by the most hebete of created intelligences." 
 
 Emma had shrunk into a corner, and Ida, her hand still upon 
 the bell-rope her brow frowning spoke in a lofty tone, " Uncle 
 Will ! you will conduct this gentleman to the porch, and as much 
 further as he shall see convenient to go. It is necessary to 
 teach him to exercise some discrimination as to the times ot 
 his visits." 
 
 For Laura, the girls were strongly interested. Her pro- 
 gress in her studies was incredibly rapid ; and their wretched 
 home, if comfortless, was clean. She had no means of providing 
 wardrobes or furniture ; and Ida, hailing the dawning reforma- 
 tion, contributed as delicately as she could, such articles as they 
 needed most. Laura's taste was good ; and her aptitude enabled 
 her to catch the ways and language of her friends, with fidelity 
 and quickness. In six months after Ida's business call, she 
 would not have been ashamed to introduce her in any company, 
 however polished. But how was this to end ? Would it not 
 be wiser benevolence to content themselves with bestowing the 
 rudiments of a common education, without exciting aspirations 
 after pursuits, so incongruous with the occupations of her lowly
 
 ALONE. 345 
 
 station, as belles lettres, music and drawing ? Ida put the 
 objection down with an irreversible negative. 
 
 " The girl has a mind ! and every intellect which God makes, 
 should receive all the nutriment it can absorb. Let us give 
 hei her quantum, and in time she will reach her level. She is 
 below it at present. If that odious father were out of her 
 way 1" 
 
 " He will be a drag to her as long as he lives /' said Emma. 
 
 " Yes, and alas ! he is more fit to live than to die. You have 
 read of the beggar idiot, who told Sir Walter Scott that he 
 would be perfectly happy, but for the ' Bubly Jock/ (turkey 
 gobbler,) that followed him everywhere. Finely is my < Bubly 
 Jock/ I listen to hear him gobble whenever he comes near me." 
 
 "Laura has an uncommon talent for music /' said Emma. 
 
 "I have remarked it/' replied Ida, "and we have thought 
 of the same thing, that her surest path to independence, and the 
 position in society his vice has lost, is to qualify herself for a 
 teacher. I waited to consult you before recommending it to 
 her." 
 
 " And that delay was unnecessary. You can take my consent 
 for granted in everything your judgment approves. Now, Laura 
 has no motive but her love for knowledge and us. With a 
 definite aim, she will surmount every difiiculty, for her energy 
 is as remarkable as her ability." 
 
 This was one of their twilight talks in the roomy porch. 
 
 " I believe/' said Ida, laughing ; " Miss Betsey fears the Koss 
 pride is extinct in me. It costs her a twinge to see me teach 
 my sable class, and she modestly hinted, this morning, that her 
 chamber, or the dining-room would be a more proper place for 
 their recitations, than mine. I represented to her that they 
 were not there more than an hour in the day, and came in 
 groups of three or four one set retiring as another entered; 
 and that they felt a pride in being neat and orderly, because 
 they were in 'Mistis' room/ but the dear old creature was not 
 satisfied, although she held her peace." 
 
 " And you are the Ida Ross, whose pride kept the whole school 
 at a distance !" exclaimed Emma. " How you were misunder 
 stood !"
 
 346 ALONE. 
 
 " Understood, my dear ! if I appeared disagreeable and selfish. 
 That was my dark age, Emma. How much has transpired since ! 
 how much of sorrow how much of joy I" 
 
 11 You are not unhappy now I" said Emma, in a tone of sur- 
 prised inquirj' 
 
 " No, my love ! happy and busy and thankful for my Father's 
 love and favors not the least of which is His gift of a com- 
 panion." 
 
 Carry had asked her a similar question during her first sum- 
 mer at Poplar grove with what different emotions she had 
 replied 1 
 
 But," she resumed, " the unbending will is not dead yet. 
 Dr. Hall and lady called on me to-day, and I unfolded our 
 prospectus of a Sabbath-school. The doctor pursed up his mouth 
 in his quizzical way. < The Church is four miles from you.' 
 
 " < But only three from you/ said I. 
 
 " e There is preaching there, on an average, two Sabbaths 
 in a month. Will not that interfere with your instructions ?' 
 
 "'Not at all, sir. We shall be through by the hour for public 
 worship/ 
 
 "'But there will not be time to go to another church, where 
 there is no service/ 
 
 " ( Can't help it, sir. We must go home and read a sermon, 
 seasoned by the consciousness of duty performed/ 
 
 " e You have a school-mania j' said he. 
 
 < < The grown trees are so stubbornly crooked, that I have 
 no hope but in the twigs/ 
 
 . " < A fair hit, doctor ! ' said Mrs. Hall. ' Submit with 
 a good grace. He was wishing, the other day, for something 
 to keep < idle men ' and children off of < Satan's ground/ He 
 is feigning objections, Ida/ 
 
 " ' A bad game, doctor/ answered I. < We will have the 
 school, and what is more, you for superintendent/ 
 
 He remonstrated now in earnest, but we out-talked him. He 
 and Mr. Latham are to circulate the information, and solicit aid 
 and scholars." 
 
 "Who says unmarried women can do nothing in the work 
 of the world's reformation ?" said Emma. " How many in
 
 ALONE. ' 
 
 your situation, would be wrapped up in self, with a churlish 
 delight that the claims of their fellow-creatures upon them were 
 so feeble." 
 
 " A woman's heart, in its healthy state, must have some- 
 thing to love ;" returned Ida. " The fountain is perennial, 
 so long as its waters are drawn off Stop their outgoicgs 
 stagnation poisonous miasma dryness ensue. The more we 
 have to love, the better we feel the better we are, Emma for 
 the closer is our approximation to the Being, who is all love !" 
 
 " This time, a year ago, I was disposed to think that in the 
 economy of His Providence, crosses and trials were all His chil- 
 dren's portion in this life. Sweetly has He rebuked my want 
 of faith !" said Emma. 
 
 " Not a year ago," rejoined Ida, " His ways to me were 
 past finding out. I wished to stay here in peaceful seclusion, 
 and He sent me again into the world. The ' silver lining ' of 
 the cloud, impervious then, is already visible. Leaving out the 
 experience I have acquired in that time, I should have com- 
 menced my residence here under a guardianship, which made 
 interest and appearance the guage of fidelity ; should have 
 missed Mr. Dana's invaluable assistance; have lost an oppor- 
 tunity to forget past grievances, and return good for evil more 
 than one, indeed. I had not heard then, that you were teach- 
 ing, and should not, therefore, have thought of you as a 
 co-laborer. Uncle "Will would say we < ought to be happy in 
 the Lord's appointed way.' " 
 
 " There is no other path of peace," said Emma. " Yet I am 
 foolishly ungrateful sometimes, in misinterpreting what He 
 has done, and peering into the ( shadowy future.'" 
 
 "That was, formerly, my besetting sin. Now I have to 
 guard against 'looking mournfully into the past.' What a 
 world of meaning in those few words ! And how like a trumpet- 
 call to the < world's field of battle/ sound the inspired exhorta- 
 tions of the same poet 
 
 ' Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant; 
 
 Let the dead Past bury its dead ; 
 Act act in the living Present ! 
 
 Heart within, and God o'erhead!'
 
 348 
 
 ALONE. 
 
 I can see the vigorous, upward fling of his arm, as shouting 
 that last line, he shakes out his banner in the morning breeze ! 
 It thrills through every nerve, as I recite it." 
 
 " His is the true Bible philosophy," said Emma, < living 
 by the day/ saying, as we fall asleep at night 
 
 ' To-morrow, Lord! is Thine, 
 
 Lodged in Thy sovereign hand ; 
 And if its sun arise and shine, 
 
 It shines by Thy command!' 
 
 "Dear Lynn I" sighed Ida. "They sung that hymn at his 
 funeral." 
 
 " < Looking mournfully !' " said Emma, in affectionate chiding. 
 
 " Yes ! yet not repiningly. I was thinking, also, of the sure 
 pleasure we have in the possession of our Father's love. We 
 know that is pure, and cannot pass away ; while our most sinless 
 earthly attachments are enjoyed with trembling." 
 
 The Sunday-school, a novelty to all the scoff of not a few, 
 opened with fifty scholars and five teachers Dr. and Mrs. 
 Hall, Mr. Latham, a student of medicine and protegi of the 
 former, Ida and Emma. Classing the children according to 
 their capacity and attainments, the Doctor apportioned an equal 
 number to each of his assistants, and planted himself before 
 a form, containing ten of the most unpromising. There must 
 be an awkward squad," he said, afterwards, " and who is more 
 fit to command it 1" Keinforcements were on the ground by 
 the following Sabbath. The number of pupils constantly in- 
 creased j some who came to see remained to teach ; and others 
 were pressed into service by the energetic superintendent. 
 Having induced him to put his hand t6 the plough, Ida gave 
 over her exertions in that quarter ; he drove as straight and 
 deep a furrow as she could have desired. She was a teacher 
 in an obscure corner, and nothing in her appearance or that of 
 her class, distinguished them from the crowd, but when the 
 thread-like rill widened into a flood, bearing broadly, steadily 
 onward, the wonder and praise of its early opponents, she felt 
 an honest pride in the reflection, that the witch-wand of Chris- 
 tian charity which had bent to the source of the stream was 
 hers. Dr. Hall was mindful of this, and with the mistaken, but
 
 ALONE. 349 
 
 well-meant importunity of gratitude, begged her to occupy a 
 more conspicuous post. She had contributed largely to the 
 library, the selection of which was left wholly to her, and ho 
 entreated her to act as librarian. She declined, laughingly, and 
 more positively, as he insisted ; and at length, was driven to 
 say, that " if it were for the actual good of the school, she would 
 even do violence to her sense of propriety, and comply; as it 
 was not, she hoped to be excused from occupying a stand, which 
 was, for a lady, at best, but an honorable pillory." And the 
 Doctor, finally comprehending what other men as wise and 
 exemplary, are slow to admit that to use one's talents does 
 not imply the abandonment of the retiring modesty of woman- 
 hood installed Mr. Latham in the vacant chair. 
 
 Ida was not too much absorbed in her numerous avocations 
 to think of, and communicate with her absent friends. Her cor- 
 respondence with Mrs. Dana, Carry and Charley was regular ; 
 John Dana wrote longer letters to her than to any one besides 
 his wife ; she heard, once in a while, from Alice Murray, and 
 through her, learned that Mrs. Eead was living in strict retire- 
 ment at her father's, seeing none but her near relatives and 
 friends ; and that Richard was playing the lover to Lelia Arnold. 
 " But," said the merry writer " who angles for him, must bait 
 one of these patent hooks, which hold, as well as catch." Ida 
 sighed softly, as she read, and was unceasingly busy for the rest 
 of the day ; her infallible remedy for sombre thoughts. Mrs. 
 Read had written once, while Ida was at Mr. Dana's a mere 
 note of remembrances and thanks. She might have supposed 
 that Josephine had forgotten her existence, but for an uncom- 
 fortable suspicion that the cessation of Anna's friendly billets 
 was owing to her influence. Ellen Morris wrote often, and 
 spent a fortnight with her and Emma in August. Ida signalled 
 Carry of the intended visit, and invited her to join in the re- 
 union. She was eagerly expected each evening of Ellen's stay, 
 and as often they looked in vain. The guest had been gone a 
 week, before tidings came from Poplar grove. It was a double 
 letter. Arthur wrote that the little Ida was recovering from an 
 alarming illness. The crisis had passed now. They would have 
 sent for her, but the child's danger was so imminent for many 
 30
 
 350 
 
 ALONE. 
 
 days, that there was no certainty that she would survive until a 
 letter reached Sunnybank. " If she had died" and the strong 
 physician's hand had trembled as he wrote it I should have 
 taken our Carry to you. It was a heart-breaking trial to her 
 I trust, not an unsanctified one." 
 
 Carry's was a blotted sheet, penned in agitation or haste, but 
 its contents were cheering wine to Ida's soul, There was much 
 said of her unworthiness, and thankless reception of the goodness 
 which had followed her all the days of her life, and thanksgiv- 
 ings for her child's restoration, with slight allusions to her 
 harrowing anxiety, while it was suspended 'twixt life and death. 
 "Pray, dear Ida," said she, " that I may forever cling to the 
 cross, to which I fled in my distressful hour I" 
 
 " Another I" said Ida, with tearful gladness. " Oh ! blessed 
 Redeemer ! is there not room in Thy fold for all?" 
 
 " Surely," she replied to Carry, " None of us liveth to himself, 
 and none of us dieth to himself. My darling name-child, (may 
 she be one of the Saviour's lambs !) has, in her unconscious 
 infancy, led her mother to Him. My own Carry ! this is what I 
 have prayed for from the first hour in which I prayed at all. If 
 the angels in heaven rejoice over repenting sinners, shall not we, 
 who have sinned, suffered with them, rejoice the more at their 
 emancipation from bondage? By what various avenues of 
 approach do we arrive at the Cross ! our Hope ! Some" fly, 
 scourged by fears of the wrath to come ; some are drawn by the 
 gentle cords of love attracted by the majestic sweetness of the 
 Saviour's smile ; others, like you, for comfort in sharp and 
 sudden sorrow ; and others yet, with myself, having quaffed in 
 quick succession, the beaded nectar that knowledge, worldly 
 applause, earthly loves gave to our parched lips, come weary, 
 distraught our blood drying with the fierce heat of the poison, 
 to lie down beside the still waters. Oh ! my beloved ! the 
 delights of sin may entice, and cavillers ridicule, as false profes- 
 sors cast reproach upon our holy religion; but let us make it the 
 one object of life all duties and pleasures subservient to it; let 
 us love it work for it ; never raising our hands, to sink again 
 idly, but striking blows which shall tell our zeal for Christ's 
 kingdom !
 
 ALOtfE. 351 
 
 " I long to see you and your dear ones. If you cannot come 
 before, you are pledged to me for a part say the whole, ol 
 October. The entire family my guardian and your sister, 
 Charley and the <wee ones' are to celebrate my majority then. 
 My nominal majority virtually, I am as free as I ever expect 
 to be, Emma is a treasure to me, and she seems happy. Who 
 could have presaged, in our school days, that we would live and 
 labor together 1"
 
 352 
 
 ALONE. 
 
 CHAPTEK XXX. 
 
 LATJRA FINELY was practising her music lesson in the parlor 
 one day, when the entrance of a visitor transferred the motion 
 from her fingers to her feet. {c I only glanced at him as he 
 bowed to me on my way out," she said to Ida. " He is tall and 
 handsome." 
 
 " Have you ever seen Mr. Dana ?" 
 
 " Yes ma'am, and it is not he This is a younger man, and 
 much fairer." 
 
 " Who can it be ?" pondered Ida, crossing the hall. " I wish 
 he had sent in his name; I do not like to be taken by surprise." 
 
 But she was, as Richard Copeland rose to meet her. 
 
 " I had no thought of seeing you I" she said, expressing her 
 pleasure at his coming. " I did not know you were in this part 
 of the country." 
 
 " Nor was I, yesterday." 
 
 " You have been riding all day ; have you dined ?" 
 
 He arrested her movement towards the bell. " What are you 
 about to do ?" 
 
 " Order refreshments for yourself, and have your horse put 
 up." 
 
 " < Entertainment for man and beast ?' " he responded, with a 
 sickly smile. " I dined on the road my steed ditto; and he can 
 stand where he is for a half-hour." 
 
 " Half-an-hour, Mr. Copeland ! You are not in the city I" 
 
 " But my visit must be short. How has the world treated you 
 since our parting?" 
 
 " Excellently well !" said she, gaily, but secretly ill at ease 
 at the alteration she observed in him. His manner to -her was 
 subduedly respectful ; but a reckless, Uase air hung about him, 
 token of carelessness or dissipation. 
 
 " Your friends at home are well, I hope," she said. 
 
 "Quite well. Helen " the remembered cloud lowered 
 gloomily a sent her regards."
 
 ALONE. 853 
 
 " And you may carry my love back to her. I will not repay 
 formality by formality." 
 
 Love ?" questioned he, with a keen glance. 
 
 : Yes why not ?" 
 
 What reason have you to love her ?" 
 
 Certainly no cause for dislike," she replied. '' She treated 
 me kindly." 
 
 1 A dizzy man sees the world go round;' " quoted Richard. 
 
 Mr. Copeland !" said Ida, with a grave sincerity, that always 
 unmasked dissimulation. " For the short time we are together, 
 let us speak as friends, who understand each other. Or do you 
 prefer that I shall meet you upon your own ground of satirical 
 innuendo ?" 
 
 "As friends, Miss Ida! you have proved that the name is not 
 meaningless. But we do not understand each other." 
 "We did!" said she. 
 
 " Partially. You have risen I fallen in the scale of being, 
 since then. Your conduct to my unhappy sister, has imposed a 
 debt of gratitude upon us upon me, especially, which words 
 cannot liquidate. This is the one subject of mutual interest to 
 Helen and myself. She is, in effect, a cloistered nun; an 
 unsmiling ascetic; atoning for the sins of youth by penances 
 and alms. This phase of piety is the larvae stage, I imagine, 
 Miss Ross?" A grieved look answered the sneer. "Pardon 
 me ! if your charity can make allowance for one, who has become 
 a doubter from extraneous influences, rather than nature. Helen 
 and myself have never exchanged a word, except upon common- 
 place topics, during her widowhood, until three days ago. I 
 had avowed my implacable hatred of her lover in her hearing. 
 Other members of the family, have caught stray rumors here and 
 there, sent out, doubtless, by Miss Read ; but their unbelief in 
 them being settled by my silence, and Helen's apparent affliction, 
 they have not noticed them except by a passing denial. But 
 Helen knew that I watched her, and her surveillance of me was 
 as jealously vigilant. I have seen her face blanch in an agony 
 of alarm at my quitting her for an hour ; and the most tender 
 sister never wept and prayed for a brother's return, as she did 
 30*
 
 354 ALONE. 
 
 for mine. I should not have been here now, but for intelligence, 
 received a week since, of Ashlin's death." 
 
 " Death !" ejaculated Ida, horrified. How had the " bold, 
 bad man" gone to his account ? Where was he now ? 
 
 " He was killed in a duel in Bourdeaux," said Richard, coolly. 
 " The villain escaped a less honorable fate by flight. Devoted 
 as Helen was to him, the news was a relief, removing as it did, 
 her apprehensions of our meeting. So much for her. Thus ends 
 the last chapter of that tragedy!" His countenance lost its 
 Ditter scorn. 
 
 " Miss Ida before I met you, I never feared to speak what 
 was in my thoughts. Policy or compassion may have deterred 
 me but cowardice never ! I believed I had read every page in 
 man's or woman's heart, and could flutter them with a breath. 
 5Tou were a study, taken up in curiosity, and baffling me by its 
 very simplicity. You furnished me with a clue ; but my skepti- 
 cism cast it aside to seek it again, and admit its efficacy in a 
 solitary instance. Ingenuous in word and deed you had yet, 
 a hidden history. I felt it then, vaguely not able to tell from 
 whence the consciousness sprung. Can it be that virtue thrives 
 only in the shade 1" 
 
 He stopped again. Ida's face was crimsoning slowly with 
 confusion and suspense. 
 
 "It must be said I" resumed he, desperately. "I may probe 
 a wound, or touch a callous heart. Miss Ross ! will you state to 
 me candidly, the character of your acquaintance with Mr. Lacy ?" 
 
 Ida's tongue was palsied. She would have given her estate 
 for power to say He was my friend " but it was denied. 
 
 " Then bear with me awhile. The evening of our introduction, 
 I imparted to you the information of Lelia Arnold's engage- 
 ment; and your deprecation of her trifling seemed only the 
 detestation of a pure and upright soul. If I saw mournful pity 
 in the eyes, which were often riveted by her beauty, I suspected 
 no more. Before leaving Richmond, I heard that he had been 
 perhaps was then your lover : the direction of your preference 
 was not known. In my superior sagacity, I opined that my 
 friend Germaine was his fortunate rival. Your rejection of his 
 suit recalled the gossip I had not thought worth remembering
 
 ALONE. 355 
 
 Lelia was Helen's confidante ; knew of her betrothal to Ashlin, 
 and surmised, if she was not informed of the rupture, when it 
 occurred. After Mr. Read's death, my mother mentioned inci- 
 dentally, that her influence had been exerted to the utmost, to 
 persuade her friend to accept him. Until I heard that, I had 
 laughed at her snares to entangle me the only man, it was 
 said, who was invulnerable to her arts. I despised her before, 
 I hated her now ; yet the county rung with acclamations over 
 my capture; and the fair Lelia, in her exultation, was beguiled 
 into an impolitic show of tenderness. I have her picture, her 
 ring, her letters. I could dash them into the sea, without a 
 pang, and would plunge after them, sooner than marry her. I 
 designed a punishment for her falsehood in friendship and love ; 
 but all the while, was haunted with an indefinite thought that 
 you were to be affected by the result. If your lover had been 
 wiled away by her machinations, or more likely if she had 
 played upon his imagination and sense of honor, in an unguarded 
 hour I could free him. I intended to see you, and tell you 
 this, but Helen hastened the execution of the plot. Breaking 
 our accustomed reserve, she implored me to quiet her fears 
 touching my marriage. A glimmering of Lelia' s treachery had 
 penetrated her mind ; she mistrusted that she was playing me 
 false, and that she had deceived others. I struck a key, which 
 I knew would give a true sound her love for you. She had 
 heard your name coupled with his, she said ; and once, a direct 
 assertion of your attachment for him, but it was from lying lips. 
 If I have wearied and displeased you, intimate it. If not 
 here are the proofs to secure you revenge or happiness. Say the 
 word, and the dupe is enlightened. She will not suffer more, 
 that you connive at her disgrace. Her mortification will be 
 public, and is inevitable. Where is Mr. Lacy ?" 
 
 " I do not know, and would not tell you if I did I" cried Ida. 
 " If I were dying of a broken heart, I would refuse the healing 
 your cold-blooded scheme offered. She may be I believe her 
 unworthy of him; but when he sought her, he was shackled by 
 no vows to me. He is not a vain boy, to be flattered into a 
 courtship ! if duped, she has cruelly deceived the noblest heart 
 that ever beat. I honor him more for not discovering her snare,
 
 356 ALONE. 
 
 than you, for mastering her in duplicity. No ! Mr. Copeland I 
 I have no wrongs to avenge upon him or her nor is it your 
 prerogative, to retaliate for your, or your sister's injuries. We 
 do not understand each other ! You impute traits to me, which 
 the weakest of my sex would blush to own ; and I thought you 
 generous high-minded ! ' Fallen,' indeed I" Her voice shook, 
 and her head sank upon the table. The man of the world was 
 confounded. The lofty tone of her principles lowered his plotted 
 vengeance into unmanly spite. 
 
 He had been incited to it by the low standard of the sex, 
 his sister's and her associate's conduct had set up in his mind ; 
 and a desire to betray the baseness of the currency the accom- 
 plished coquette was passing off upon society backed by a 
 justifiable displeasure at the evils of which she was the author. 
 
 "I am to understand that you disdain my offer to serve you?" 
 he said, rising. 
 
 She looked up. " To serve me ! how thankfully I would avail 
 myself of such ! I was hasty unkind ! Do not go yet !" 
 
 He sat down. It is all so confused I" she said, apologeti- 
 cally. " You are engaged to Lelia Arnold, and do not love her : 
 yet you must have told her that you did I" 
 
 He colored, and did not reply. 
 
 "You are meditating a punishment for her what has she 
 done that you have not '{" 
 
 " Falsehood unprovoked falsehood is viler in a woman I 
 was driven to it." 
 
 11 Viler in a woman more despicable in a man ! You should 
 be above the petty vanity and ambition, that if cultivated, root 
 up our better feelings. Selfishness, love of admiration, find in 
 your case, pique, actuated her; you have the bare pica of 
 malice I" 
 
 " Miss Ross ! malice !" 
 
 "Examine, and say if it is not so. Punishment, in this 
 world, has cure for its object. Was this yours? or was it that 
 she might endure the pain she had inflicted upon others ?" 
 
 " Call it retribution." 
 
 " There is but one Retributive Being. He says < Vengeance 
 is mine !' "
 
 ALONE. 357 
 
 "You are unsophisticated, Miss Ida. Your maxims are 
 obsolete in the polity of the age." 
 
 Because they are extracts from a changeless code. I am 
 serious, Mr. Copeland. Your conscience assures you that you 
 are in the wrong; that you have acted childishly sinfully. 
 That another debases God's gifts, is no reason why you should 
 sully the fine gold of your heart. You have committed this 
 outrage, or you could not talk of the sweetness of revenge." 
 
 And / am serious, Miss Ida. Unjust, as you say I have 
 been to myself, I have the manliness to recognise the superiority 
 of a character the antipodes of mine. I repeat, I regret my 
 inability to serve you. Good evening." 
 
 "Are you going thus ? What if we never meet again?" 
 
 " We part friends. Your reproaches, cutting as they were, 
 have not diminished my esteem." 
 
 She could extort nothing more satisfactory. He would make 
 no concessions tender no pledges. Large tears gathered and 
 dropped, as she beheld him mount and ride away ; and other 
 emotions than grief at her ill-success sent tributaries to the stream. 
 
 They prate senselessly who speak of forgotten loves or woes. 
 As in neglected grave-yards, briars and weeds spring up, and 
 delude the eye with the semblance of a smooth field, but when 
 levelled to the roots, show the mounds they grow upon ; so 
 above buried feelings, may wave memories and affections of later 
 years until some unforeseen event cuts, like a sickle-blade, 
 through their ranks, and we see, with tears, as of fresh bereave- 
 ment, the graves there still ! Ida's was a brave spirit, but it 
 trembled after the temptation was withdrawn. Richard had, 
 unknowingly, been guilty of great cruelty in breaking the seal of 
 her heart's closed chamber. Gingerly as he had handled its 
 precious things, he had caused exquisite pain; and for hours and 
 days, she felt that the door would not shut again. It was hard 
 to smile hard to concert plans for the future welfare of others, 
 when before her, was blank darkness. But the whirling chaos 
 was cleared and tranquillised in time; and even Emma was 
 ignorant of the storm. 
 
 On the fifteenth of October, the heiress of Sunnybank would 
 count her twenty-first birth day. The oldest negroes testified
 
 358 ALONE. 
 
 that it had been the custom in the Ross family, for an hundred 
 years, to signalise such occasions with appropriate festivities j 
 and Ida waived her wishes for a quiet visit from her friends ; and 
 tried to be as much interested in the proposed illumination and 
 feast as if she were not the personage to be honoured. She 
 worked more willingly when the Danas wrote that they were all 
 coming, the Saturday before the fifteenth, which fell on Tuesday. 
 Emma's scholars had a vacation of four weeks ; and Laura Finely 
 was at the house most of her time. The two vied with each other 
 in the number and elegance of the decorations of the premises. 
 
 " What upon earth I" exclaimed Ida, stumbling over a heap 
 of green boughs in the back porch. Both girls screamed 
 " Oh ! take care 1" Ida sat down upon a bench, and untwisted 
 a long streamer of running cedar from her ancle. 
 
 What is this for ?" 
 
 " To dress the pictures and looking-glasses," said Emma. 
 
 " And to festoon upon the walls," chimed in Laura. 
 
 "And loop up bed and window-curtains/' finished Emma. 
 
 My dear girls ! if the President and suit were expected, 
 your preparations would not be more formidable. Why trouble 
 yourselves so much ?" 
 
 " Trouble ! you never incommode yourself for other people ! 
 oh no !" replied Emma, in severe irony. 
 
 "We love the bustle and excitement of fixing," said Laura. 
 
 " And what is there for me to do ?" questioned Ida, stooping 
 over the pile. 
 
 " Nothing ! you are to play lady and hold your hands. It is 
 difficult, because unusual work but please try !" laughed Laura. 
 
 Miss Betsey came along, with a rueful face. " Miss Ida 
 there's a dozen loaves of cake, and ever so many snow-balls wont 
 get in the big sideboard, no how I" 
 
 " Put them in the light closet, Miss Betsey. I hope we shall 
 be able to eat it all !" she continued to the girls. 
 
 " Never fear !" said Emma. " Your Richmond party could 
 consume it in a week. How many are there ?" 
 
 " Let me see ! Arthur, Carry and my pet three Mr. and 
 Mrs. Dana, three children and Charley nine. They will be 
 Here to-morrow night Ellen Morris, Monday or Tuesday. I
 
 A L o x i: . 359 
 
 have invited Anna Talbot and Josephine but do not expect 
 them. Then for Tuesday evening from the neighborhood 
 Dr. Hall and lady and a friend, who shall be nameless " 
 pinching Emma's cheek " the Strattons Kingstons Frenches 
 and oh ! I gave Charley carte-blanche to ask any of my Rich- 
 mond acquaintances and all for what ? To hear that Miss Ida 
 Ross is " 
 
 " ' Free, white, and twenty-one !' " sang Emma, cheerily. 
 
 " Twenty-one ! in four years, I shall be a spinster of a quarter 
 of a century ! Heigho !" She said it jestingly ; but at nightfall, 
 she was pacing the porch alone Laura having gone home, and 
 Enima asleep, wearied by her day's activity ; and the thought, 
 returned to her. Twenty-one ! the golden sands were slipping 
 fast. The sky-meeting waves upon the horizon no longer blushed 
 with sunset dyes, and nodded their bright crests, in luring 
 welcome; her eyes were bent upon the regular swell of the 
 Present, as she glided over it. The navigation of the unknown 
 seas beyond, she trusted to the Pilot, who had engaged to see 
 her safely to the desired haven. It was a holy, still hour. 
 
 Her swift step scarcely broke the silence the firm, elastic 
 tread cf youth and health ; and an unruffled spirit was within ; 
 a fulness of contentment and peace the world could not disturb 
 or take away. She had conned that invaluable lesson " It is 
 better to trust than to hope/' 
 
 A letter, ma'am no papers," said Will, sententiously. 
 
 " Thank you, uncle Will. Tell James to bring a lamp into 
 the parlor, if you please. I almost dread to open this !" she 
 said to herself. " My fears are always on the alert, to forebode 
 evil to those I love. I will be courageous will have faith I" 
 and she walked resolutely into the lighted room. But the super- 
 scription sent a tremor to her heart a minute elapsed before 
 she opened it. 
 
 THE LETTER. 
 
 I have come home alone, dear friend, leaving our Annie 
 asleep in a foreign land. Her day of suffering closed in ease 
 and peace ; her ' good night' was as calm, as though she were 
 sinking into a slumber of hours, instead of ages. A lonely,
 
 360 ALONE 
 
 stricken man, I retraced the route we had travelled in company, 
 to find that I had never indeed missed and mourned her, until 
 I saw her empty chamber at home. Here ' I cannot make 
 her dead !' Oh ! the desolation of that word, when applied to 
 one, in whose veins ran the same blood as in ours, who lived and 
 loved with us partaker of our individuality ! As love is 
 immortal, we would believe the frail clay to which it clings, 
 imperishable too. But in our grief, there is a mingling of praise 
 that her rest is safe that a merciful Father is also wise, and 
 will not, in answer to our selfish lamentations, restore her to an 
 
 existence replete with pain. 
 
 #*##**# 
 
 " The date of the above a month back may surprise you. 
 I wrote a fortnight after I touched my native shore ; contem- 
 plating such a letter as one friend might send to another ; 
 to inform you of my bereavement, and solicit the sympathy 
 none ever ask in vain from you. I was interrupted to read a 
 sommunication which has changed not the tenor of this alone, 
 but the current of all my anticipations. It was from Miss 
 Arnold ; an annulment of the contract between us ; a step, she 
 says, foreseen from an early period of our engagement, when she 
 discovered that the heart, she thought she had surrendered to 
 me, was wholly another's. I omit much that would be uninte- 
 resting to you; and which, in honour, I ought not to trans- 
 cribe. Briefly then the facts stand thus. She never loved me ; 
 and when the owner of her heart sued for her hand, she pledged 
 it, and asked for a release from her previous vow. I have no 
 inclination to animadvert upon her course singular and incon- 
 sistent as it has been throughout but am obliged to refer to 
 certain particulars, to make clear the explanation which follows. 
 
 " I have told you, Ida, that my attentions, from the begin- 
 ning of our intercourse, until my conviction of your betrothal, 
 were correct exponents of my feelings. I cannot deny that 
 when compelled to acknowledge the uselessness of my efforts, I 
 judged you harshly was tempted to believe you an unprincipled 
 trifler with my hopes, and the truth of your accepted lover. As 
 my indignation and disappointment cooled before mature reflec- 
 tion, my faith in your sterling integrity revived.
 
 ALONE. 3G1 
 
 " Not a word had escaped ine which Friendship might not 
 have dictated; and your manner to me was less confidingly 
 affectionate than to Charley. You regarded me as a brother; 
 and if in that capacity, any act or word of mine could conduce 
 to your happiness it should not be withheld. Your committal 
 of your lover's cause to me was a powerful appeal to every 
 generous feeling. I solemnly resolved then, that you should 
 never regret your implicit trust. At his death-bed, my thought 
 was for you and him; at his grave, as I upheld your sinking 
 form my heart answering the heavings of yours, in our common 
 sorrow I renewed the promise never to desecrate the purity of 
 your friendship, by a breath of a love, demanding reciprocation 
 in that which had gone down with him into the tomb. In this 
 illusion, I came home. You know whom I met here ; and that 
 her surpassing loveliness, her apparent artlessness and amiability 
 captivated us all. Annie loved her fervently, and threw us 
 together by many innocent manoeuvres Dear girl ! it was the 
 blameless impulse of a loving heart to unite two, who seemed 
 to her hopeful perceptions to be destined for each other. I was 
 amused at her fancy then uneasy, lest it should be a restriction 
 upon Miss Arnold's kindly feelings for the brother of her friend. 
 I could not wound Annie by reproof or caution ; so, after a 
 while, descrying in Miss Arnold's demeanor, a touch of the 
 dreaded embarrassment, I introduced the subject in a tone of 
 light badinage. I may not describe the interview ; my senti- 
 ments and bearing had been utterly misconstrued. She did not 
 express this in words, but her perturbation was unmistakeable. I 
 reflected upon this unlooked-for disclosure with no enviable 
 emotions. I was free ; no hope ventured to point to you ; and I 
 might learn to love the beautiful, tender creature, whom I had 
 unintentionally deceived. In honour in conscience in huma- 
 nity what could I do, but tell her that, although not offering 
 the deep tenderness of a first love I would cherish her as faith- 
 fully, if not as fondly, as man ever did the woman he wooed 
 and won ? I cannot dwell upon the untold anguish of the moment 
 when the fallacy of my impressions and reasonings was exposed. 
 The tempter was at my ear. Violation of my plighted word 
 the downfall of her hopes wero nothing ! the barrier which 
 31
 
 362 ALONE. 
 
 parted us was down the impossibility of our union was a 
 chimera, dissolving in the beams of truth. You saved me ! look- 
 ing away from our divided lives, you reminded me that duty 
 here writes our title-deeds to reward hereafter and I submitted 
 to the decree. 
 
 " Now dear Ida ! but the rush of hope ebbs suddenly The 
 thought that flew towards you, the moment I was freed now, 
 that the slow weeks I allotted to rigid self-examination have 
 rolled by spreads its wings as eagerly still but you ? 
 
 " What was I to you ? what may I hope to be ? I have ascer- 
 tained that you are unmarried are you heart-free ? May I come 
 to you ? Dare I say reply at once ? I would not wring from 
 you a hasty decision, but remember my suspense. May every 
 blessing be yours ! 
 
 MOETON LACY."
 
 ALONE. 305 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 MR. Grant, wife and sister-in-law were " dear, nice old folks," 
 who liked to see young people enjoy themselves, prim and staid 
 'though they were; and they had their fill of delight, that 
 important Saturday; for three merrier mad-caps Sunnybank 
 never held. Ida was the ringleader in the mirthful frolic. 
 
 " She's so pleased 'cause Mars' Charles is comin'," said 
 Rachel, in a pretended " aside" to Emma and Laura ; and Ida 
 laughed, instead of reproving the gratuitous explanation. I do 
 want to see Charley Bless him !" said she. 
 
 " Is he a very dear friend ?" asked Laura. 
 
 Very dear !" Ida emphasized as strongly ; " almost on a 
 par with Carry. We will have fun while he is here ;" and she 
 launched into a recital of some of his freaks and stories ; elicit- 
 ing bursts of nuerriment from her listeners, which pealed even 
 to the door of Miss Betsey's room, and hurried Mrs. Grant down 
 stairs, " to hear what the joke was." The girls were upon the 
 carpet in the middle of the large parlor, cutting pink and white 
 paper roses. The graceful running cedar, they were to enliven, 
 draped the walls, and 'hid the tarnished mouldings of the old 
 portrait frames ; geraniums and mignionette breathed sweetly 
 through the parted muslin curtains ; but nothing was so fair in 
 the dame's eyes as the centre group. Laura was a brunette 
 black eyes, nectarine bloom and pouting rosy lips the hand- 
 somest of the trio ; Emma's dove-like eyes, classic oval face and 
 varying complexion placed her next. Ida sat between them, 
 speaking with much animation of voice and action the glee of 
 a child, and the modulations of a clever elocutionist. 
 
 " Well !" said Mrs. Grant, when the narration was ended, if 
 you all aint a happy set, I'll give up my judgment !" 
 
 Don't do that, I beg !" said Ida. We need it this minute, 
 to tell us whether to mix these roses in the wreaths, or to dress 
 this room with white ones, and the dining-room with pink." 
 
 Mrs. Grant set her head to one side, and her hand upon her
 
 364 ALONE. 
 
 hip. It was a serious question. " Well, I don't know exactly 
 Either way's very pretty. What do you say ?" 
 
 " Oh ! but we agreed to leave it to you. White ones look 
 best by lamplight." 
 
 " So they do ! Well 'spose you put them in here, as the 
 party meets in the parlor." 
 
 " Thank you, ma'am. I am of the same opinion myself/' 
 
 "And I" "and I" said the others; and Mrs. Grant, 
 pleased at having, for once in her life, expressed a decided 
 opinion, " reckoned Becky and Molly wouldn't beat them beds 
 half enough if she didn't follow them up." 
 
 The impromptu "rose case," upon which Emma and Laura 
 rallied Ida, was finished before dinner ; and resolving themselves 
 into a " committee of inspection," they visited every room in 
 a body, with Miss Betsey and Mrs. Grant as rear guard. Even 
 the wainscotted chambers were cheerful snow-drifts of beds 
 and window-hangings lined with pink stainless toilette covers j 
 painted bouquets upon the fire-screens, and real ones upon the 
 dressing-tables. 
 
 " Sunnybank deserves its name to-day," said Emma, leading 
 Ida to a window. 
 
 The October sun was everywhere ; playing with the laughing 
 cascade which fell over the rock, at the foot of the sloping lawn j 
 carpeting the forest with tesselated gold ; and the sheen of Ida's 
 pine-grove was as of millions of burnished needles. 
 
 " It is brighter here !" said Ida, laying her friend's hand 
 upon her breast. 
 
 " You need not say so ; your smile shows it. It is like 
 sunshine itself." 
 
 " Shall I tell her ?" thought Ida. " Not yet ! he will be here 
 in a few days and then I" and the heart-bound threw the 
 blood, in a scarlet gush to her cheeks. 
 
 Love like hers is never selfish. When they were separating 
 to dress, she called Laura into her room. Two dresses a 
 rose-coloured challe", and a white muslin were upon the bod. 
 "No thanks, dear!" she said, as the delighted creature claspr i 
 her arms about her neck, in speechless gratitude. " You, who 
 do so much forme and mine, deserve some token of repir'
 
 ALONE. 365 
 
 What ! tears ! Dry them instantly, and try your dresses. Ah ! 
 they fit ! I thought we were nearly the same size, so had 
 them cut by my patterns. Emma ! step in here ! Are we not 
 proud of our pupil ?" 
 
 " She does not require fine rpbes to win praise from me/' 
 said Emma. " How handsome and becoming ! just, what one 
 might expect from the donor." 
 
 " She is the best, dearest friend I have" began Laura, smil- 
 ing through her tears. 
 
 "Hush I" said Ida, threateningly. "Flatterers! both of you 1 
 be off and < beautify' as Charley says. And Laura do you 
 hear ? don't have eyes and dress to match ! a contrast is better." 
 
 The main part of Sunnybank house was capped by a sort of 
 belvidere, accessible by steps from the garret. Why it had been 
 built was one of Ida's childish studies ; and the acquisition of 
 other knowledge was no help to the elucidation of this mystery. 
 Emma said the founder of the mansion had an astronomical 
 turn, and used it as an observatory; Laura, that it was a 
 belfry, from which the alarm-bell was sounded to collect the 
 surrounding settlers, when an incursion was made by the sava- 
 ges; Ida's more matter-of-fact belief was that her ancestor had 
 more fondness than taste for ornamental architecture, and so 
 planned this tuft to the conical crown of his habitation. On the 
 birth-night, this was to be illuminated ; the brackets were pre- 
 pared, and some of the candles in the sockets. Nearer and faster 
 descended the darkness. Aunt Judy fidgeted from the kitchen 
 to the house, and from the house to the kitchen, in mortal fear 
 for the credit of her supper. Miss Betsey prognosticated upset- 
 tings and wheel -breakings, and "hoped the horses were sure- 
 footed. That hill, the other side of Tim's Creek was awful of 
 a dark night." 
 
 "I say, girls !" exclaimed Ida, " we will light the belvidere ! 
 They can see it six miles off. Anything but idle waiting I" 
 
 She was to stand in the yard, and direct the disposition of the 
 
 lights Laura, Emma and Will, who thought no whim of his 
 
 " mistis" absurd, ascended to the roof. The breeze was at rest ; 
 
 and the rays shot forth, clear and straight, down the avenue, 
 
 31*
 
 366 ALONE. 
 
 magnifying the proportions of the fantastic roof. The others 
 came out to admire the effect with her. 
 
 Hist 1" said she. Music I" 
 
 But there was not a sound. 
 
 " I heard it I know \" said she, positively. Come into the 
 porch." 
 
 Another note was repeated by the hills. " I said so ! they 
 are coming singing ! Isn't that like Charley ?" She distin- 
 guished voices as they approached; Carry's soft alto; Mrs 
 Dana's soprano, " Arthur yes ! that is his tenor and Mr. 
 Dana and Charley have the base !" 
 
 "The tune changes !" said Emma. "Auld Lang Syne oh ! 
 how sweet I" 
 
 Ida's eyes were streaming, her heart aching with joy. The 
 carriages two and a buggy, drove up to the door ; and with a 
 scream of rapture she lifted Carry to the ground, not knowing 
 who came next only that they were all there. All ! no ! where 
 was Charley? She stopped upon the steps; Elle holding to her 
 dress; one hand in Carry's, the other upon her guardian's arm. 
 
 " Charley ! where are you ?" 
 
 " Here !" with a muster-roll intonation. He raised her 
 fingers to his lips an unprecedented action with him and 
 holding them still, looked over his shoulder. " Here is a gen- 
 tleman who is afraid you will shut your doors upon him, for 
 coming without a special invitation/' 
 
 " Mr. Germaine I" thought Ida, fearfully ; but his was not 
 the figure that emerged from the shade, nor the warm grasp, in 
 which Charley, with a movement full of grace and feeling, placed 
 her hand ; nor his the voice that said I do not doubt her 
 hospitality, but my deserts." 
 
 " Do you forget your friends, that you expect a similar fate, 
 Mr. Lacy?" said Ida. 
 
 His actual presence was the roseleaf upon the mantling cup 
 of bliss. It did not overflow ; tumultuating passions were stilled 
 into a calm, delicious ecstacy. She was more composed than 
 she had been at any time since the reading of the letter, saw 
 everything, thought of everybody. Carry and Emma went up 
 stairs arm in arm, and Ida, her baby namesake, folded to her
 
 ALONE. 367 
 
 heart, was following Mrs. Dana, when she recollected Laura. 
 She was standing, alone and overlooked, in the hall. 
 
 "Here, Laura! I confide my darling to your keeping. 
 Gently ! don't wake her. Is she not a lovely babe ?" 
 
 " Beautiful I" said Laura, in proud gratification. 
 
 The sleepy childrens' suppers were brought up, and they 
 were snug in bed before their elders were prepared for their 
 meal. The gentlemen were in the yard, looking at the belvidere. 
 
 " Your beacon puzzled us considerably/' said Charley to Ida. 
 " It appeared to be upon the summit of a huge, shapeless height. 
 We thought we had lost our road and wandered off to the 
 Enchanted Mountains." 
 
 "Or that a remnant of Grhebers had an asylum among these 
 hills," said Mr. Lacy. " You should have heard Charley's 
 
 ' Fierce and bigh 
 
 The death-pile blazed into the sky, 
 And far away, o'er rock and flood, 
 Its melancholy radiance sent !' " 
 
 "Was I the only rhapsodizer ?" retorted Charley. "Who 
 said, when a figure passed before the light 
 
 ' Hafed, like a vision, stood 
 Eevealed before the burning pyre, 
 Tall, shadowy, like a Spirit of Fire, 
 Shrined in its own grand element?'" 
 
 " Why, that was uncle Will !" exclaimed Emma. 
 
 Amid the burst of laughter that replied, Charley pronounced 
 poetry " done." 
 
 " And having descended to real life, perhaps you do not object 
 to more substantial food," said Ida. On the way to the house, 
 some one took her hand. 
 
 " Has my impatience offended ? I could not wait !" said a 
 hasty whisper. 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Am I welcome?" 
 
 "In every sense of the word," was the ingenuous response. 
 This was their plighting. 
 
 The sun was not up, when Ida raised the parlor windows next 
 
 morning. Above the dun zone of forest, rested another, oi 
 
 . silvery grey vapor, and higher, legions of fleecy cloudlets, from
 
 ALONE. 
 
 all parts of the heavens, hung motionless, as angels may hover, 
 in rapt adoration, over the crystal walls of the New Jerusalem. 
 He arose ! the " bridegroom of earth and brother of time !" and 
 her simile changed as assuming roseate and golden robes, the 
 expectant host wove themselves into a gorgeous causeway, by 
 which he seemed to mount the heavens. So "Jesus left the 
 dead I" the Sun of Righteousness burst His prison gates ; and 
 the shining ones sang the consummation of a world's redemp- 
 tion. She was reading her Bible, alternately with the resplendent 
 leaf Nature unfurled this autumnal Sabbath, when a step dis- 
 pelled her trance. 
 
 Good morning 1" said Mr. Lacy. " You are an early riser." 
 
 " There is my reward I" pointing to the scene without. 
 
 " May I participate, in virtue of my second-best claim ?" asked 
 he, with his own beaming smile, seating himself before she 
 assented. Ida's trifling embarrassment was transient. His beha- 
 viour, open and free, as of old, had not a tincture of reserve, or 
 significance to indicate that he thought of their new relation. 
 The beauty of our lower sanctuary ; the upper, which it dimly 
 shadows forth; Annie's sickness and death; the Christian's 
 work and hopes were the matter of their conversation ; and as 
 the rest assembled, they were spared the disagreeable sensation 
 one feels at interrupting a tete-a-tete. 
 
 " Is it time to ring the prayer-bell, Ida ?" asked Emma, as the 
 last loiterer came in. 
 
 " I think so. We breakfast early on Sunday mornings, that 
 we may be at school in season," she said to Mrs. Dana. 
 
 It was her practice to lead in family worship, night and morn- 
 ing. Arthur had performed this oflice the evening before, and 
 the servants having collected in the hall, she motioned him to 
 the stand, where lay the Bible. 
 
 I am hoarse," he said. Lacy I" 
 
 The person addressed reddened slightly, but conquering him 
 self instantly, did as he was requested ; and Ida, too, although 
 not so easily, lost the identity of the man in the reader, and 
 was prepared to join, with solemnity and fervor of spirit, in hia 
 prayer. 
 
 By Charley's contrivance, they rode to church in the light
 
 ALONE. soy 
 
 buggy. Ida condemned herself for the feeling of disappointment 
 that fell suddenly upon her, as the school-house appeared; and 
 more for the fancies which strayed starry-winged butterflies 
 into the machinery of her morning's duties; but her pupils were 
 unconscious of the visitants. 
 
 " Is that your regular pastor ?" inquired Mr.' Lacy, as they 
 were driving back. 
 
 " //--regular, rather if you speak of the seasons of his minis- 
 trations. Presiding over three I am not certain it is not four 
 congregations, he preaches for us once a month/' 
 
 Who officiates the three other Sabbaths ?" 
 
 " Sometimes the pastor of the Hill-side church. The second 
 Sabbath is his day in course ; but he lives twelve miles off. If 
 he is among the missing, we catch up a circuit-rider, or go ser- 
 monless." 
 
 " e These things ought not so to be.' " 
 
 "I know it but they are! Who is to remedy them? Palm- 
 branch is a free church." 
 
 " And as often free of preachers, as of sectarianism, it seems/' 
 said he. 
 
 " More frequently. The war of polemic debate is waged as 
 furiously there, as if the controversialists owned pulpit, pews 
 and people. The number of communicants of our persuasion, 
 in this neighborhood, is small ; yet they are mostly persons in 
 good circumstances, and able to have a church of their own, if 
 they would think so." 
 
 "They should purchase this Palm-branch. There is more 
 euphony than meaning in that name, when applied to a house." 
 
 " A free church, especially," answered Ida. However, our 
 Sabbath-school has vanquished its enemies, and may lead the 
 church on to victory." 
 
 " Dr. Hall awards the merits of this enterprise to you. Has 
 your residence here enlarged or contracted your sphere of useful- 
 ness ?" 
 
 " Enlarged it. Not that this would be the case with most 
 people. The city presents more facilities for benevolence gene- 
 rally; but my family had influence here; and my servant* 
 wanted a manager. There are more deprivations than I antici-
 
 370 ALONE. 
 
 pa ted; the separation from my friends; want of general society; 
 the dearth of books and intellectual recreations ; and last and 
 worst abridgement of my church privileges. Still I do not 
 repent my removal. My happiest days have been my Sunny- 
 bank life." 
 
 " Because you are in your right orbit. The evils you recount 
 are not irremediable ; we will discuss them at length, some day." 
 
 This was the only reference to the future, as theirs into 
 which he was betrayed all day ; but it struck Ida dumb. She 
 recovered her speech by evening; for she and Charley strolled in 
 the garden, in close converse, until Mr. Dana sent Morton to 
 warn them of the night dew. He perceived, as did the whole 
 party, traces of emotion in her countenance; and Charley was 
 very grave, although not melancholy. Music was proposed 
 after tea ; and Ida unlocked the parlor organ, a gift to Mrs. 
 Ross from her husband, and still a fine instrument. Emma 
 blushed so deeply at her nomination as organist, that Ida recalled 
 the motion and occupied her accustomed place. Her fingers 
 wandered; and Mr. Lacy, bending over to adjust the book, said 
 softly, " Do not attempt to play, if you are indisposed." She 
 smiled. " I am only weak and silly ; I shall be better directly." 
 And ere the first hymn was concluded her clear voice led the 
 choristers, and the pealing chords rolled out in full strength and 
 harmdny. 
 
 The bell rang for prayers. Arthur glanced at Ida, and was 
 arrested in the act of rising, by seeing her wheel a chair to the 
 stand, and beckon to Charley. Yet more astounded were all 
 that he took it. Unclasping the Bible, he read distinctly and 
 reverently, a portion of its sacred contents ; and they knelt with 
 him at the mercy-seat. A stifled sob, and more than one sigh 
 from surcharged bosoms, responded to his petitions; and Carry 
 wept aloud at the Amen." Arthur was equally moved. <' God 
 bless you, Charley !" was all he could say, as he wrung his hand. 
 
 "He has blessed him, and us," said Morton, joyfully. " I 
 thought this would be the end of it, my good friend I" 
 
 "Not the end the beginning !" said Ida, who stood by her 
 adopted brother. " Only the beginning ! is it not, Charley ?" 
 
 " You were the beginning!" said he, smiling. "My mind
 
 ALONE. 371 
 
 has been made up for some time ; but it was proper that she 
 should be the first apprised of it. I was stubborn and rebellious; 
 and the consistent practice of one private Christian did more to 
 convict me than the preaching of the entire apostolic succession 
 Saints Paul and Peter to head them could have done." 
 
 "0, Charley! you are Charley still:!" laughed Carry. 
 
 " And always will be, I hope ! " rejoined Morton. " Religion, 
 my dear Mrs. Dana, does not malte but mend, the dispositon."
 
 372 ALONE 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 YES I Charley was Charley still !" The brothers were walk- 
 ing the piazza, Monday morning ; and John's smile and 
 Arthur's laugh applauded the quaint humor which came from 
 his lips, as freely as respiration of the air his lungs had inhaled. 
 He was a consummate actor; and his self-command balked the 
 sharpest scrutiny when he chose; but his spirits, this morning, 
 were not feigned. Mrs. Dana, Emma and Laura made their 
 appearance, and at length, Charley's flow of talk could no 
 longer delay the inquiry " Where are Ida and Mr. Lacy ?" 
 
 " < Brushing the dew upon the upland lawn.' " said Charley. 
 " Gone to ride." 
 
 " When did they start ?" asked John. 
 
 11 Just as you shut your eyes for a second nap luxurious 
 citizen that you are. < When will they return ?' query the 
 second. You will see them on the top of that hill in a minute." 
 
 They cantered down the avenue in gallant style. Ida was 
 an expert rider ; and her escort appeared to as much advantage 
 on horseback as on foot. 
 
 " A handsome couple !" said Arthur. 
 
 Charley made no reply. " You do your teacher justice," he 
 said, as Ida leaped to the ground, barely touching Mr. Lacy's 
 hand. 
 
 " And more could not be said for master or pupil /' she 
 answered, saucily. 
 
 " Morning rides are wonderful cosmetics !" he whispered, ful- 
 lowing her into the hall. She snapped her whip at him, but 
 those mischievous eyes were too searching, and she ran off " to 
 change her dress." 
 
 "I am for a walk to the river. Who accompanies me?" said 
 John Dana. Ida held the taper at which he was kindling 
 a cigar his invariable after-breakfast luxury and the flame 
 was paled by her vivid glow, as Mr. Lacy said quietly, " I will, 
 sir, with pleasure."
 
 ALONE. 373 
 
 In an Lour they returned, and the summons "Mr. Dana's 
 respects, and if you please ma'am, he wants the pleasure of 
 your company in the drawing-room," robbed her of the last 
 spark of self-possession. She stopped at the door, to muster 
 courage ; but her guardian had heard her step, and opened it 
 from within. " I have no lecture for you," he said, passing 
 his arm assuringly around her. " This is an event, we fathers 
 have to bear, as best we may. I am fortunate that your choice 
 has my unqualified sanction. You have acted wisely, nobly, my 
 daughter." 
 
 "Dear Mr. Dana ! I feared you would think me uncommuni- 
 cative ; but I did not know it myself until within a day or two." 
 
 " I am advised of the incidents of your drama. Never try 
 to convince me again, that you are an unromantic young lady ! 
 What is your evidence, Mr. Lacy ?" 
 
 She had not seen, until this speech, that he was present. She 
 bestowed one look upon him, and the magnetic charm of his 
 smile equallized her nerves and thoughts. Mr. Dana would 
 have left the room, but Morton stayed him. In succinct and 
 manly terms, he thanked him for the expression of an esteem, 
 it should be the study of his life to merit. I am aware, sir, 
 that it is arrant boldness to ask more from your kindness ; but 
 you engaged to intercede for me in another suit." Ida looked 
 up, hurriedly. The gentlemen smiled; and Mr. Lacy whispered 
 a sentence in her ear. 
 
 " Oh no ! no I" she ejaculated, " too soon I" 
 
 " Why < too soon?' " It was John Dana, who drew her away 
 from her lover, and pushed back the shadowing curls from her 
 forehead. " Think of Mr. Lacy and myself as old friends, and 
 speak out the language of your own warm heart. Why ' too 
 soon,' Ida ? Don't you know him well, enough ?" 
 
 Another glance was the signal for another smile. 
 
 " Will you ever know him better ?" asked Mr. Lacy. 
 
 I think not," she replied. 
 
 " You don't like him well enough, then ?" pursued Mr. Dana. 
 
 The curls drooped over her face, and she was mute. 
 
 " Perhaps you do not like the idea of resigning your freedom \ 
 i lie very day you gain it?" 
 
 32
 
 374 ALONE. 
 
 " No, Mr. Dana ! you know that is not it." 
 
 "What then?" Mr. Lacy secured her disengaged hand. 
 "If this proposal distresses you, Ida, I revoke it without a 
 murmur, and will abide your convenience, or inclination pati- 
 ently ; but if it is a question of expediency, you cannot suppose 
 that Mr. Dana or myself would urge a measure, we were not 
 assured was reasonable and proper. Your dearest friends are 
 with you what renders delay necessary or advisable V' 
 
 "But what will they say?" 
 
 tl An odd inquiry from you ! What potent < they ' do you 
 mean 1" 
 
 Carry Arthur Mrs. Dana Charley all of them." 
 
 "Charley has been my abettor from the beginning. From 
 him I learned your locality ; and he warranted me a friendly 
 reception, if nothing more. I should not have had the confi- 
 dence to propose this immediate union, if he had not favored 
 jiy ardent wish. You trust in his judgment in other matters 
 why not now ? As for the rest of those you name when did 
 they oppose anything you advocated?" 
 
 " But your friends your mother ?" 
 
 " Is prepared to love you as a daughter." 
 
 " She wishes me to decide, I see ;" said John, dictatorially. 
 " Therefore, silencing all disputes the fatted calf is slain the 
 neighbors are bidden and I, as this perverse maiden's lawful 
 guardian setting my face, like a flint, against wasteful 
 improvidence decree an occasion for the feast, instead of a feast 
 for the occasion ; and as this must be, the sooner we are rid of 
 the trouble the better. Not a syllable, Miss Ross! you are 
 still a minor ; and I will indict you for insubordination, if you 
 are refractory. I am going to tell Jenny to air my white vest 
 for to-morrow evening." 
 
 Emma, Laura and Carry were in Mrs. Dana's apartment ; and 
 when the clamour of amazement lulled, not a hand was raised 
 in the negative. 
 
 "She deserves the best husband that can be given her;" said 
 Carry, " and from my knowledge of Mr. Lacy's character, 1 
 expect he is almost good enough for her." 
 
 " He would have been my choice from among all the gentle
 
 ALONE. 375 
 
 men of my acquaintance/' answered Mrs. Dana, as she and 
 Charley will not make a match." 
 
 " Ah, Jenny ! did I not say you would have to abandon that 
 air castle ?" said her husband. " It was the only essay at 
 match-making I ever caught you at." 
 
 "What is it, Laura?" inquired Carry, as her face bright- 
 ened suddenly. 
 
 " I was thinking how strange we should have decorated the 
 drawing-room with white roses, when we were not expecting 
 a wedding I" 
 
 The news spread like wild-fire over the plantation. " Young 
 Mistis was gwine to be married I" and never did tidings of a 
 splendid victory produce a grander jubilee. The Grants, Miss 
 Betsey, and Will, as sub-steward, had the programme of the 
 performances and actors ; but with the crowd, the Lacy and 
 Dana factions ran high, to the amusement of the wise. Aunt 
 Judy's climax was reported at the dinner-table by Miss Betsey, 
 who must have shared in the general delirium of pleasure, as 
 this is the only authentic record of her ever having spoken in 
 "company," unless "spoken to." 
 
 " ( Well!' says Aunt Judy says she <Dany or Lacy they's 
 both mighty fine, pretty-spoken gentlemen. Either on 'em '11 
 do ; but it's been a-runnin' in my head what a mussiful Provi- 
 dence 'tis, hur husband happened along, jes' when the cake riz 
 nicer than any Fse made since ole Marster's weddin ! And 
 young Mis' too- poor, lone, sweet cretur ! ah, chillen ! things is 
 ordered wonderful ! wonderful !' " 
 
 "Don't blush, Ida ! laughing suits the occasion better," said 
 Carry, as every mouth spread at this apropos anecdote ; and she 
 did laugh merrily, as well as Mr. Lacy, who had tried to control 
 his risibles until he heard her. 
 
 Ellen Morris arrived that night, attended by 'her brother, and 
 at a feminine council, which sat until midnight, in the room of 
 the bride-elect, a list of attendants was drawn up Emma and 
 Charley, Laura and Mr. Latham, Ellen and Mr. Thornton, who, 
 she said, was certainly coming next day, and Miss Kingston, 
 v>ne of the neighbors, with Robert Morris. 
 
 " Aunt Judy may well say, ' things is ordered wonderful !' "
 
 376 ALONE. 
 
 said Emma. "Who thought of this, a week ago? and here 
 everything is arranged, as if expressly for a marriage. ' Not a 
 screw loose or lacking !' " 
 
 " Ida will say it is a 'special Providence/" said Mrs. Dana, 
 " but Mr. Lacy and Charley had a hand in it." 
 
 " Who moved them ?" asked Ida. " Depend upon it, my 
 theory is irrefutable, because true. If a delusion, it is harm- 
 less and pleasant." 
 
 "You would make puppets of us;" said Ellen. "Chessmen 
 irresponsible for their motions." 
 
 " No, indeed ! We are children, obeying a Father's orders, 
 no matter how enigmatical ; and having done our part, letting 
 Him work out the answer to the puzzle. A so-called ignorant 
 woman once furnished the best definition of Faith I ever heard ; 
 ' taking the Lord at his word.' It is safer to believe, than 
 to argue, Ellen." 
 
 Aunt Judy's aphorism was bandied about on Tuesday until 
 it was hacknied. Ida feared the appearance of her "Bubly 
 Jock;" but her prime counsellor, Will, his stalwart arms bared 
 to the shoulder, to turn an ice-cream churn, said confidently, that 
 " she nor Miss Laura should be pestered with him that evening. 
 I've got his written bond to stay at home, and eat the supper 
 that will be sent to him. Mars' Charley and Mr. Lacy's been 
 to see him too. They came while I was there, ( on a sociable 
 visit,' they said, but before they went away, he was crying like 
 a child they talked so beautiful !" 
 
 The bridal paraphernalia was laid in array, and Emma and 
 Laura tying up bouquets ; Ida directing, but not permitted to 
 assist. 
 
 " Ellen cannot find that arbor-vitse surely !" said Emma. " I 
 wish she had let me go !" 
 
 Ellen burst into the room, and flinging herself into a chair, 
 laughed immoderately. " What has happened ?" cried a trio of 
 voices. 
 
 " The wheel of luck has turned ! It is a ' wonderful ordering' 
 that brings Josephine Read upon this, of all days in the year I" 
 
 " Josephine I" Ida seemed to behold a ghoul. She had 
 invited her because propriety demanded she should not slight
 
 ALONE. 377 
 
 the daughter of her former guardian, after living in the house 
 with her six years j then sho was fond of Anna Talbot, and a 
 separate invitation was not to be thought of. The possibility of 
 her coming had not entered her mind. How could she present 
 herself at the door of her, whom she had denounced as her 
 mortal foe ? Emma stood aghast, and Laura in bewilderment, at 
 the dismay depicted in the faces of her friends. 
 
 "I am sorry for you, Ida," continued Ellen ; " and if I were 
 a magician, would whisk her off to Guinea in the time it would 
 take me to say ' Presto !' but if you did not feel so badly, I 
 would delight in her spiteful rage, when she knows that she 
 has come to your wedding and with Mr. Lacy ! Oh ! it is 
 transporting I" 
 
 " Worse and worse !" said Ida, sorrowfully. " Unkind as she 
 has been, I would not wound her ; and she will never be per- 
 suaded that the insult was unpremeditated." 
 
 " ' Insult !' forsooth ! who is insulted, pray, but yourself, by 
 the intrusion of a woman, who has reviled and backbitten you, 
 until the town cried out against her evil tongue ! Oh ! the 
 shamelessness of a wicked gossip I" 
 
 " Where is she ?" questioned Ida. 
 
 " In the north chamber. Anna Talbot, Messrs. Thornton and 
 Villet came with her." 
 
 " Charley said he asked them and I am glad Anna is here 
 but oh ! Josephine ! and I am en dishabille ! Emma, will you 
 run up to them ? you are at home." 
 
 "Willingly." The kind-hearted girl emptied her lap of the 
 flowers. 
 
 " And explain everything," said Ida. 
 
 " Yes make all right ! Comfort yourself ;" and away 
 she flew. 
 
 Her face, upon her re-entrance, boded well for Ida's hopes. 
 
 " What did she say ?" inquired the latter, anxiously. 
 
 " They were unpacking their trunks. Anna was very cordial 
 so was Josephine for her. < We concluded yesterday, to 
 come up,' said Anna. < Pa made a point of it, and Ida's letter 
 was so kind and polite, that we finally determined to accept.' 
 32*
 
 378 ALONE. 
 
 " ' And Mr. Thornton and M. Villet were so desirous to have 
 some Richmond girls here ;' said Josephine." 
 
 "Aha!" interrupted Ellen. 
 
 Emma continued. " Anna did not notice her remark. < The 
 maid tells me Ida is to be married ;' she said, eagerly. ' What a 
 trick she has played us !' < The queerest part of the story is, that 
 she is more surprised than any body else,' I answered ' They 
 have not been engaged a week ! You know the groom?' " 
 
 < yes ! he is a noble fellow ! I am rejoiced she is to 
 marry him at last.' " 
 
 "And what did Josephine say to this?'' asked the inquisitive 
 Ellen. "You need not pretend you have told us all." 
 
 " Oh ! nothing of consequence. She spoke very carelessly, 
 of his < being nothing extra,' and < she is welcome to him,' with 
 no symptoms of unusual malice." 
 
 " Maybe she does not care now, having transferred her atten- 
 tions to Mr. Thornton. That harp will hang upon the willow, 
 too, or my name is not Ellen Morris !" 
 
 A note was handed Ida. 
 
 " ' Ossa on Pelion piled V from your countenance," said the 
 volatile bridesmaid. 
 
 Ida read it aloud. "Villet is with Thornton. Will your 
 plans undergo any alteration in consequence ? 
 
 "M. L." 
 
 "Josephine is the loose screw, Emma spoke of. I would 
 gladly add M. Villet and Anna to" my train " 
 
 Do it, and let her fret !" exclaimed Ellen. 
 
 " Oh, no !" said Emma, involuntarily. 
 
 " I cannot I" said Ida. She wrote upon the reverse of the 
 billet " Unless you object, the original order will be preserved." 
 
 There were- no happier beings present that evening, than the 
 acting host and hostess, and Carry and Arthur. 
 
 "I had resigned myself to Ida's perpetual spinsterdom," said 
 Carry to her schoolmates. " She rejected several good offers from 
 no apparent cause j and 1 imagined she had a prejudice against 
 matrimony." 
 
 " She was very indifferent upon the subject ;" said Anna. 
 " She was a mystery to many. But these deathless friendships
 
 ALONE. 379 
 
 between ladies and gentlemen, are always suspicious, and I pre- 
 dicted how this one would end." 
 
 " Charley is delighted ;" said Carry. 
 
 " Is that surprising ?" asked Josephine, with a dash of irony. 
 
 " Hush ! Here they are !" said Anna. 
 
 The clergyman stepped into the centre of the room. The 
 fourth couple entered first. 
 
 " Only six attendants !" whispered Josephine, as Charley 
 appeared in the doorway. A freezing night shut her in ! through 
 it she saw but two forms a princely figure, his Antinous head 
 erect in proud happiness and the hated, injured rival, to whose 
 house, curiosity and vanity had tempted her the bridal veil 
 falling in soft wreaths about her ; his bride ! his wife ! for 
 emulous groups flocked around them. 
 
 " Oh ! how could you deceive me so ?" cried Anna, catching 
 Emma, as Charley led her up. " Mr. Dana ! we thought you 
 were the bridegroom ! The servant said ' Mars' Charley Dana !' 
 Didn't she, Josephine ?" 
 
 The frozen lips thawed into a stiff " Yes." 
 
 "Ah ! how foolish in me to forget that Molly espoused the 
 < Dana cause !' " said Emma. 
 
 "And you believed the mistress would imitate the maid's 
 example, Miss Anna?" returned Charley. "Are you inconsola- 
 ble that I am single yet?" 
 
 " No ! overjoyed ! A change has come over my desperate 
 spirit, since I -discovered my mistake. Come Josephine! we 
 must congratulate them." 
 
 Josephine was immovable. " I never pay congratulations." 
 
 " For decency's sake !" Charley heard Anna say, angrily. 
 "Don't get into one of your surly humors to-night! Very 
 well ! stay where you are !" and she walked off with M. Villet. 
 
 " That sigh what is its interpretation ?" asked Mr. Lacy, of 
 Ida, as they were watching and enjoying the lively company, 
 which had none of the stiffness usual to weddings. 
 
 " Did I sigh ? it was in thought not in sadness, then." 
 
 " So I hoped. What was the weighty reflection ?" 
 
 "I was running over the bridals and bridal-parties I have 
 attended each marking some important epoch in my history.
 
 380 ALONE. 
 
 At Mrs. Truman's Ellen's sister I met Lynn, and gained an 
 insight into Charley's character." 
 
 " Those were pleasant data. Carry's was next was it not ?" 
 
 His chosen wife though she was, she hung her head. He 
 had to bend to hear the faint accents. -"I received a letter from 
 you !" 
 
 "You may forget that. Go on." 
 
 " Mr. Read installed his new wife, and Lelia Arnold was her 
 bridesmaid. Must I forget her also ?" 
 
 " As I do yes I" an unclouded eye answering hers. 
 
 " Mrs. Morris had a party in honour of her nephew's mar- 
 riage; and a series of events succeeded, which occasioned me 
 vexation and trouble ; but I was not the principal actor." 
 
 " And the secret of another, you are not empowered to reveal. 
 Eight ! The next ?" 
 
 "Is this!" 
 
 " Out of three of the five you have mentioned, disaster and 
 sorrow have arisen. The proportion of joy in this woeful life 
 is variously estimated, from two-fifths to two-thirds. So we do 
 no violence to natural laws, in assuming this to be a white mile- 
 stone."
 
 ALONE. 381 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 THE stability of wedded happiness may be fairly tested in six 
 years ; and that number has elapsed since the wedding-eve at 
 Sunnybank ; a month or two more for hickory logs are 
 heaped upon the carved andirons, and the arrowy blaze sheds a 
 red glare upon a group of familiar faces : Charley, unaltered, 
 save that the benign lustre of his eye formerly seen only by 
 his best friends, has become habitual; Morton Lacy, hand- 
 somer in the prime of manhood than as the slender student; 
 and, her elbow resting on his knee, sits upon a low divan, his 
 wife. If Time has dealt leniently with the others, he has acted 
 repentantly towards her. She is younger, in face and manner, 
 at twenty-seven, than she was at seventeen. Her husband's 
 equal in many respects, and treated by him as such she has 
 never endured the servile subjugation of soul, which transforms 
 intelligent women into inane, mindless machines. In yielding to 
 his superior judgment, when in contrariety to hers, her will has 
 parted with none of its strength in the bend which proved its 
 pliancy. Submission is a pleasure, not a cross. 
 
 " I read to-day of a Mr. Latham, called to the street 
 
 Church, Baltimore," says Charley. " Is it Emma's husband ?" 
 
 The identical personage !" replies Ida, with pride. "A high 
 compliment to so young a preacher !" 
 
 " He is a man of superior talents," pronounces Mr. Lacy ; 
 " a divine of Ida's making." 
 
 " Of Mr. Lacy's, you mean and maybe, after all, the Sab- 
 bath-school is entitled to the honour of teaching him that the 
 healing of men's souls, not their bodies, was his vocation. Dr. 
 Hall and I had a pitched battle whenever we met, over our 
 interference with his pupil, until his trial-sermon, which was 
 delivered in our church. The Doctor strode across the aisle, at 
 the close of the services, wiping his eyes. 1 1 forgive you, 
 madam, and that meddling husband of yours ! My stars ! what 
 a parson I was near spoiling !' "
 
 382 ALONE. 
 
 "Does Miss Laura meet your wishes, as Mrs. Latham'- 
 
 'Entirely. Mr. Lacy supports her authority, or the stig-.-ii 
 attached to her father's memory would weaken her influence. 
 She looks sad to-night. It is the third anniversary of hi.s 
 miserable end." 
 
 " He was burnt alive was he not 1" 
 
 " It is supposed so. He was found dead his body partly 
 consumed upon the hearth of his room. Probably he fell down 
 in a drunken fit. The blow was almost too great for Laura's 
 reason. Natural affection covered the remembrance of all his 
 faults. The children were taken by their mother's relations, to 
 whom he would not allow them to go, in his life-time. Laura 
 has continued with us." 
 
 " Still a passion for proteges ! The last time I saw Miss 
 Head, she inquired what your newest hobby was." 
 
 What did you reply ?" inquires Mr. Lacy. 
 
 "That ladies dismissed hobbies, when they were provided 
 with 'hubbies ' an execrable play upon words, which she may 
 have construed into an ill-natured fling at her single-blessedness." 
 
 " She ought not. On dit that Ellen Morris has supplanted 
 me in your bachelor friendship ; and she is not likely to marry." 
 
 " Any more than myself but Ellen Morris is not Josephine 
 Head. Old maids are a much-abused class of the community ; 
 I trust to her to redeem their character, but Josephine is a fright- 
 ful counterpoise. If you had remained single I" 
 
 But I didn't !" says Ida, smiling archly at her liege lord. 
 "And you two have only yourselves to blame." 
 
 " And Lelia Arnold I" subjoins Mr. Lacy, teasingly. There 
 is another enchanting spinster, Charley." 
 
 Ida is grave. 
 
 "You observe my wife nurses her jealousy yet." 
 
 "I pity her, Morton ! not for losing you, but I shall always 
 think that she loved Richard Copeland as sincerely as it was in 
 her nature to do." 
 
 "Why dismiss him, then?" queries Charley. 
 
 "She had the credit of it. In my opinion, he made hci
 
 ALONE. 383 
 
 discard Mr. Lacy by threats or blandishments; then punished 
 her perfidy to him and others by violating his engagement." 
 
 " An unmanly act but a just lesson ! He is marvellously 
 improved by his marriage. Was it a love-match ?" 
 
 " I believe so. Alice is a lovely girl ; just the equable tem- 
 perament to balance his flightiness. What a contrast to his 
 sister I" 
 
 Has she taken the veil ?" 
 
 " Alas ! yes ! She wrote to me, at her mother's death, that 
 ' having lost both parents, and her brother's marriage making 
 him independent of her cares, she should devote the remnant of 
 her sorrowful days to prayer and expiation of her sins if peni- 
 tence and mortification could atone.' " 
 
 "tf, indeed!" says Mr. Lacy, "Yet she is more sinned 
 against, than sinning. Her remorse, much as it misguides her, 
 is more creditable than her step-daughter's insensibility." 
 
 (t Poor Josephine I" sighs Tda. 
 
 " Why * poor ?' " asks Charley. You, of all people, have 
 least cause to be sorry for her." 
 
 " I have most, because I know her best. She is not happy 
 never was and never will be unless her heart is changed. I 
 have not forgotten the misery of a part of my sojourn with her; 
 yet I honestly preferred my to state hers." 
 
 "You are very unlike." 
 
 "Now, perhaps and I thought we were then; but my 
 mother's training was all that saved my disposition from adapt- 
 ing itself to Mr. Read's mould. She had no talisman. I wish 
 she had a hundredth part of my happiness. A woman is so 
 lonely without a home and friends ! They are to us I do not 
 say to you necessaries of life." 
 
 "She can gain them," replies Morton. "You did." 
 
 " To be taught the inadequacy of perishable things to satisfy 
 a soul which must live forever !" muses Ida, gazing into the 
 blaze. I can apply literally that text < Seek ye first the king- 
 dom of God, and Hia righteousness ; and all these things shall 
 be added unto you.' " 
 
 " There are not many who can, in a temporal sense," says 
 Charley.
 
 384 ALONE. 
 
 "But who may not, spiritually? Why will men make a 
 comfortless, doleful mystery of our cheerful, life-giving, home 
 Faith ? Why not think, write, talk of it ? " 
 
 And act it ?" interrupts Charley. 

 
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