Jk Insist ii I THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. BY JAMES R. GILMORE, (EDMUND KIRKE,) AUTHOR OP "AMONG THE PINRS," "THE REAR-GUARD OF THE REVOLUTION, "THE ADVANCE GUARD OF WESTERN CIVILIZATION," ETC. "The last of a goodly race, The blood of worthy sires In him bore kindly trace Of a by-gone, better time." OLD PLAY. NEW YORK: THE PEOPLE'S PUBLISHING COMPANY. 1889. COPYRIGHT, 1889, BY JAMES R. GILMOKK. All rights reserved. ?s THE LAST THORNDIKES tu tn CHAPTER I. eg PRELIMINARY. ? family, the American ancestor of which emigrated to |5 Boston with John Winthrop, in 1630. This old Puri- o tan built his house in Charlestown, near the mansion of Governor Winthrop, but a descendant of his of the third generation removed to Dorchester, even then a O delightful suburb of the three-hilled town, and there & erected, about a hundred and fifty years ago, a quaint, roomy mansion which he surrounded with a spacious garden that was "a joy to all beholders." In this mansion all the Thorndikes lived who came into this ^ world and went out of it between that date and the time when this history opens, nearly half a century ago. This could easily be, for the house was large, and none of the family ever had a numerous progeny 447276 2 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. seldom more than two in a generation, and one of those was reasonably certain to be a bachelor. If one of the young men happened to marry, he took his wife home to the old mansion, there being in it room enough for all without any crowding of the old folks. Moreover, numbers never produced any disharmony among the Thorndikes, for the entire lineage respected one another and themselves, and had none of those petty envies and jealousies which cause discomfort in so many households. This lack of numerical extension in the Thorndike family has made it an easy task to trace the pedigree, and estimate the characters of all its members, even down to the ancient psalm-singer, who led the choir in the Old North Church, and, in his old age, took regularly his Sunday nap under Increase Mather's preaching. The conclusion I have come to is that while not " overmuch righteous " they were a worthy race even those starched old Puritans who sang Old Hundred with a nasal twang, and gave deliberate assent to the roasting of new-born infants over a hot fire, kept continually burning in an underground region styled Gehenna. But time turns even winter into summer, and after the lapse of about a century it softened the harsh Calvinism of the old Thorndikes into the genial tenets of William Ellery Channing. About the year 1820, the grandfather of the youth whose history I am writing, became a zealous disciple of that eminent man, and some twenty-five years later, his son, Robert Thorndike, was converted to even the anti-supernaturalism of Theodore Parker, PRELIMINARY. 3 which accounts the miracles myths or " old-wives tales," and Jesus merely a remarkable young man, with a wonderful genius for religious truth, but not the central figure in human history, the re-creator of the moral world, and, by natural right, the King of all mankind. However, I suspect that their religious tenets never sat very oppressively upon any of the family. It is certain that none of the later generations were ever seen at prayer meeting, or at church on a rainy Sun day ; and it is even reported that they preferred a night at the play or the opera to the week-day-even ing service at the old Dr. Harris meeting-house. Notwithstanding this, they paid their pew-rent, were liberal patrons of the contribution box, respectful to their clergyman, loving to one another, and kindly- affectioned to all, especially to their humbler neigh bors ; and if they did not manifest what has been termed the " enthusiasm of humanity," they certainly exhibited a hereditary disposition to be of practical service to their fellow-creatures. And this disposition was manifested so habitually, and in so many ways, as to secure for them the good-will and esteem of a very wide circle of acquaintance. If they had any consti tutional failing it was an intense family pride, and a lofty contempt for social pretensions when based upon the mere possession of money. Money-getting they regarded as too low a pursuit for a gentleman ; and it was probably owing to this fact that scarcely any prop erty ever descended from father to son, except the old homestead to which the mere passage of time had 4 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. given the larger part of its value. Almost without exception they were lawyers, some of them of fine abilities and large incomes ; but the incomes were pretty sure to be balanced by the outgoes, and these were not always expended upon- themselves, but in public projects or upon their poorer neighbors. These family traits were all combined in Robert Thorndike, the uncle of young Richard, and besides him, at the opening of this history, the only surviving member of the ancient family. The parents of Rich ard had died when he was but a child, and this uncle had brought him up, and lavished upon him the ab sorbing affection of a strong, manly nature. He had never married, never perhaps thought of marriage, certainly never since that day in 1832, when both the boy's parents, stricken down by the cholera scourge, were laid away together in one grave of the old church yard. Then, taking the two-year-old lad in his arms, he had said to him, " Don't cry, Dickey. Uncle Rob, will now be both father and mother to you." And he had kept his word. From that day forth that orphan child became the chief, almost the sole, object of his life. He watched over and tended him in early childhood, and in boyhood guided his sports, shared his studies, and always on Saturdays, when the lad could be released from his books, had him as his constant companion. Then, taking him and a little girl playmate into his gig, he would drive into town, and have the two about him all the day in his office, or beside him in the dingy court-room, listening to the dry pleadings. This over, the three would PRELIMINARY. 5 trudge hand in hand, through State and Washington streets, to Dexter's stables in Franklin Street, where the old gray horse, and the old-fashioned gig, would be in waiting to take them home. Then they would sup, and pass the evening together, the children often screaming with delight as the man emptied into their laps the budget he had carefully filled, during all the week, with droll, Saturday-night stories. Thus the man lived in the boy ; and it was but natural that the boy should grow up feeling for the man a corresponding affection, and should copy his ways, his erect, easy carriage, firm, manly gait, genial, cour teous manners; and should imbibe his opinions, see the world through his eyes this world, and also that hazy, unknowable realm, which stands for the future life in the creed of agnosticism. To the uncle the nephew was all the world ; but, before the latter had arrived at the age of sixteen, he became aware of the fact that, though he was devotedly attached to his uncle, his world was centred in the gentle young girl who had been his constant companion since childhood. It was about this time, when the lad had finished the studies preparatory to college, that he had a con ference with his uncle which exerted an important influence upon his future career. The latter was seated after supper, in his library, a large, high-ceil- inged room on the ground floor of the old mansion. A pet kitten was perched upon the top of the high- backed arm-chair he occupied, and another was asleep in the arms of a large dog, with long, pendulous ears, that lay curled up at his feet. The curtains were 6 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. drawn, and one burner of a huge chandelier cast a soft light upon the rows of books that lined the walls, and the many busts and articles of virtu which filled every niche of the spacious apartment, all revealing the refined taste of a man, who was at once a brilliant lawyer, a cultivated scholar, and a polished gentleman. His slippered feet were perched upon a chair before him, and he was leaning back in his seat, in one hand his evening cigar, in the other a manuscript at which he was glancing with considerable interest. At this moment his nephew entered the room, and throwing himself upon a lounge, took up the evening news paper which his uncle had let fall upon the floor. After a few moments, still glancing at the manu script, the uncle said to him. " I say, Dick, this isn't bad: (reading,) " They are marvellous eyes, of a hazel hue, From whose still depths a soul looks through, Serene and deep as the ether blue. "Born of the gorgeous sunset skies, They have the twilight's loveliest dyes, And all its glory in them lies. " They lit my boyhood's earliest dream, And on my manhood they will beam, Robing it all in a golden gleam. " That is very good, Dick, very good, and more over, it's very true Lottie has marvellous eyes. And the rest is very sensible more so than most poetry "I'll sing those eyes while I've voice to sing, And clasp that maid while I've arms to cling, And richer I'll be than any king : PRELIMINARY. 7 " For in those eyes, those hazel eyes, The all of earthly beauty lies, And half the bliss of Paradise. "That is good sense, Dick. I'd do so myself, if I were of your age. If I had met a girl like Lottie thirty years ago, it wouldn't have been left solely to you to perpetuate the family." The youth while listening to this reading, had kept his recumbent position ; now he sat upright, and asked, " How did you get that paper, Uncle? " " Why I stole it. You see, Dick, Lottie was so delighted with the verses, she couldn't keep them to herself, she had to run over here and read them to me ; and as she wouldn't give them up, I took them from her by force and arms. The fact is, Dick, I've a private detective over you Lottie herself so you'd better not say anything to her you don't wish me to know." " I don't want to keep anything from you, Uncle Rob," said the young man in an earnest tone. " I know you don't, my dear boy, and I shouldn't care if you did. I can trust you you are the best boy in the world. And, Dick, it's been dawning on me lately that in you our race will reach the crest of the wave. You have only to sharpen up your tools well at college, to outdo all the old Thorndikes, and be an honor to the family?" "And your heart is set on my being a lawyer?" said the youth. " A lawyer ! Why, what else can you be ? All the Thorndikes have been lawyers." 8 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. "And that's the reason they've all been poor. I want to be rich ; so, I'd rather be a merchant." " What ! " exclaimed the uncle. " Bury your fine talents among a lot of gunny-bags, and pork-barrels! " "Not that kind of merchant, Uncle Rob," said the youth. " There are merchants whose ships are on every sea who trade all over the world. It seems to me that to manage such a business must require as much brains as to be a lawyer." "Well, it does, Dick; and I don't know but more, for a lawyer has precedents, and a merchant of that sort has none he must think out his operations for himself ; be a pioneer ; an original organizer." " And that's what Mr. Wilder was, and I hear he has left half a million." "But it came natural to Wilder," said the uncle, " he merely succeeded his father and grandfather. But he didn't leave half a million. All the accounts were in before I threw up the executorship, and he won't pan out over three hundred and fifty thousand." "Why did you throw up the executorship, Uncle?" asked his nephew. " Because I couldn't stand the widow, and that crazy scamp, Cravan, my co-executor. She's as mer cenary and suspicious as sin, and what of Cravan is not knave, is fool. But, tell me, Dick, why do you want to be rich ? Money is a low pursuit, not fit for a mind like yours." " For the reason that if I'm not rich, or on the sure road to riches, Mrs. Wilder will object to my marrying Lottie," answered the young man. " She PRELIMINARY: 9 has already told her that she must not think of me as her future husband, for I shall always be poor. And she assures Lottie that I am seeking only her money." " She need not trouble herself very much about the money, Dick," said his uncle, " for by the time you are old enough to marry, there'll not be a dollar of it that is not lost, or in Cravan's pocket." " That, I think, is not the real consideration " answered the youth ; " she never did like me ; but for the past six months ever since Mr. Wilder's death she has shown an actual repugnance to me. I half expect she will soon forbid me the house." " I see how that is," said the older gentleman, " she has felt the same all along, but "knowing Wilder's fondness for you she concealed her real feelings while he was living. Hard-bitted as she is, she was always as docile as a kitten with Wilder. But, Dick, her repugnance is not so much to you as to me ; she is visiting the sins of the uncle upon the nephew. It's a story I would have told you long ago, had I not seen that in Lottie's nature there is not a trace of her mother, or of her scapegrace of an uncle. She is altogether like her father; and a finer fellow than Aleck Wilder never trod the footstool." " Had Mrs. Wilder a brother? I never knew that," said the youth. "That's not singular. I don't believe Lottie knows it, for they never speak of him, and he disappeared long ago, when you and she were little bits of things that your father used to trundle about together in a baby-wagon. And you were two as pretty rose-buds 10 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. as ever grew. It was as good as a play to see you not half a head taller than she was hand the little lady out of the carriage, and then put your arm about her, and kiss her 'good-by.' They say 'matches are made in heaven,' but that was made in the cradle ; and I don't mean Mrs. Wilder shall break it up. But I will tell you about the brother, and then you will have a knowledge of the enemy's position ; and there is nothing like having that when you are going into a conflict of guns, or wits, or of both together. CHAPTER II. RETROSPECTIVE. " IT is not a thing of yesterday, Richard," said his uncle, throwing away his cigar, and taking down to his lap the kitten which was perched on the back of his chair. " The ill-feeling of Mrs. Wilder goes back to a time before you were born, when she, and Wilder, and your father were children, and I was a youth just graduated. She was the daughter of James Pritchett, the soap boiler " old Pritchett " he was generally called, for he was not much respected. He occupied the house she now lives in, and we lived in this old mansion, which, you know, has been the family home stead ever since the days of the Judge, your three times great-grandfather. Pritchett was thought to be rich, and she was his only daughter and very pretty ; but your father and I would as soon have thought of associating with a servant-maid as with the daughter of the old soap boiler. We knew her, of course, and accosted her courteously whenever we met her ; but we never went to her father's house, and very rarely encountered her elsewhere. She resented what she called our exclusiveness, for she was very ambitious, and really fitted to shine in society, being very bright, 12 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. and having had a polite education. This was the soil in which her repugnance to me took root ; but not the sole cause of her animosity. " She grew up a very beautiful woman, and when about Lottie's age, somehow met Aleck Wilder and entrapped him into a marriage. I say ' entrapped ' because Wilder was of old stock, with a good deal of family pride, and he must have been fairly infatuated to not only marry her, but to make his home with her beer-drinking father and scapegrace of a brother. That brother, the younger James Pritchett, was the cause of the trouble. He had the air and manners of a gentleman, but was an exact reproduction of the old man. "After young Pritchett's graduation he studied law, and before his admission to the bar, became engaged to a very estimable young woman, the daughter of a widow living in Boston. The widow had a moderate property invested on mortgage, and the interest on her principal investment not being paid, she gave the mortgage to the young man to collect. He fore closed it, and instead of paying the proceeds over to her, retained the money for re-investment. This he pretended to do, and as evidence of it, put into her hands three bonds and mortgages purporting to be executed by as many different persons. The interest on these mortgages he professed to collect, and dur ing a year he did actually pay over to the widow a sum equal to the income of the mortgages. Then one day, while the widow was looking through her tin box, she happened to observe that none of the mort- RETROSPECTIVE. 1 3 gages had been recorded. For some other reason she had begun to distrust Pritchett, and this led her to bring the papers to me, with the request that I would place them on record, and also examine and appraise the real estate they covered. I did so, and soon ran against the fact that there was no such property in existence, nor any such persons as the pretended mortgagers. In other words, Pritchett had com mitted forgery, false personation and embezzlement. " I was satisfied that he had not wasted the money upon himself, for he was strikingly mean in personal expenditures. He had lost it, I concluded, in stock speculations. That being so, the question was how could it be recovered ? Old Pritchett was reputed to be slippery, and if I were to approach him on the sub ject, he would, no doubt, advise his son to get out of the way, and refuse to pay anything. He might even let the young man go to prison rather than refund so large a sum as twenty thousand dollars. I had, there fore, to proceed with caution, not even disclosing to the widow my discovery, lest in her indignation she should reveal it to young Pritchett. " My first step was to open the whole transaction to Wilder. He had been a schoolboy with your father, and your father and I had been his attorneys from his first going into business. I knew him to be discreet, and thoroughly honorable and upright. He expressed no surprise, for, with the instinct of an honest man, he had detected the real character of both the son and father. He believed the son would attempt to get away, and the father would not help him out of the 14 THE LAST OF THE TIIORNDIKES. difficulty. Moreover, he thought the old man could do nothing if he would his affairs, he said, were badly embarrassed, and if I should search the records, I would probably find all his property mortgaged to its full value. He went away before your father and I had decided what course to pursue, but we had gained from him a better knowledge of old Pritchett and his resources. " Wilder had no sooner left our office than I went to the Registry of Deeds, to ascertain if the old man had any unencumbered real estate. I found nothing clear except the house he lived in, which was worth just about the amount the son had embezzled. Everything else even his soap-boiling establishment was covered with mortgages, two and three deep, and this indicated that Wilder was right the old man was irretrievably embarrassed. However, there were no judgments against him, and, consequently, he could give a good title to the homestead. It was evident that the only way to secure my client was to get for her the deed of that property, and get it at once, before the old man's affairs became any more en tangled. He might decline to give it ; but it was only just that he should, for he was responsible for bring ing the young scoundrel into the world. The young fellow was then not twenty-one a most precocious villain. " To prevent young Pritchett slipping through my fingers, I decided to swear out a warrant against him, and to place it in the hands of an officer ; but not to have it actually served, unless he should fail to give RETROSPECTIVE. 1 5 security for the money embezzled. Having done this, I returned to my office with the warrant and a couple of detectives in citizen's clothes, and then sent for young Pritchett. He was a brazen, but cowardly fel low, and I had no sooner taken him into my private room and showed him the warrant, then he sank back in his chair as if his very life was oozing out of him. When he had somewhat recovered himself, I told him that two detectives were in the adjoining room, one or the other of whom I proposed should be his con stant attendant till he had paid, or given security for, the money he had stolen. He could have a reason able time in which to do it ; but if it were not done speedily, I should direct the officer to serve the war rant and take him to prison, after which, as he knew, there could be no settlement. He admitted having lost the money in stock speculations, and said that his only hope was in his sister's husband, for he was sure his father would do nothing for him. His sister I knew to be much attached to him, and, as she is a woman of imperious will, I feared that she would pre vail upon Wilder to offer himself as security. This he could not afford, and it was not right that he should assume the liability ; but I could keep him out of it by refusing to accept any guarantee except real estate, of which he had none. " When young Pritchett had gone off with one of the detectives, I prepared a deed of the mansion from the old man to myself, as trustee for the widow, and then drafted a return paper agreeing to reconvey the property to him, or his heirs, at any time within five l6 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. years, on his paying back the sum embezzled, together with the interest. In the meanwhile, he was to have occupation of the property at a rental of twelve hun dred dollars, besides insurance and taxes. I expected them all upon me in the morning, and I decided to have the papers in readiness to close the business before the old man should have time to reconsider any sudden good impulse that might come to him. " They all came as I expected the old man hob bling along on his cane, Wilder with the look of a lamb being led to the slaughter, and his wife with colors flying, and every sail set from jib to spanker. The young fellow had lost all the meekness of the day before, and from his unconcern I inferred that Wilder had succumbed to his wife, and agreed to give the security. As soon as they were seated in my private room, Mrs. Wilder opened directly upon the subject by saying, as near as I can recollect, ' We have come upon an unpleasant business, Mr. Thorndike. My brother has imprudently used another person's money. He has intended to replace it, but is unable to do so at the moment. Therefore, my husband has gener ously agreed to give your client his own obligation to refund the amount, whatever it is, within a reasonable time.' " ' That certainly is very generous in your husband, madam,' I answered. 'Does he offer merely his personal security?' and I looked inquiringly at Wilder. " Giving him no chance to reply, his wife said with all the concise directness of a business man, ' He can RETROSPECTIVE. 17 offer you no other, sir. He has no real estate. All his capital is in his business ; but being his lawyer you must know that he is absolutely good for a much larger sum than this.' " ' I know that perfectly well, madam,' I answered. ' In any ordinary transaction I would take your hus band's obligation for twice the amount here involved ; but this money belonged to a widow. It was intrusted to your brother to be invested on real-estate security. Your husband will see the impropriety of my accepting any other.' " ' But my husband has no real estate, sir,' replied Mrs. Wilder, with an imperious toss of her head. " ' So you have observed, madam,' I remarked ; ' but your father has.' There was a gratified gleam in Wilder's eyes when I said this, but he sat there as mute as an oyster. " ' I have none, sir,' sputtered the old man, ' none that is not mortgaged heavily mortgaged.' " ' Then the records are not correct,' I remarked ; ' I looked them over yesterday, and found the house you live in entirely free from encumbrance.' " ' But,' he said, ' you don't ask me to mortgage the roof over my head.' " ' I do not ask you to mortgage anything,' I answered, ' I merely give you a chance to right a wrong, save your family from disgrace, and your son from prison.' " ' We fear no disgrace, sir,' said Mrs. Wilder, with her superb air. ' My brother has been inconsiderate and imprudent that is all. If people should hear of 1 8 THE LAST OF THE TIIORNDIKES. it, they would consider it what it was merely a youth ful indiscretion.' " I made no comment on Mrs. Wilder's peculiar code of morals, for I did not wish to embarrass a settle ment on which depended nearly the entire livelihood of two poor women. I merely handed old Pritchett the papers I had drawn, saying, ' I understand your circumstances, sir, and knowing that you have only one piece of clear property, I have prepared a deed of it, and a back agreement, which will settle this busi ness if you are so disposed.' " The old man adjusted his glasses, and glanced over the papers. In a few moments he handed them back to me with the curt remark, ' I can't sign that deed, sir.' " ' If that is your decision,' I said, ' have you any other proposition to make ? ' " ' None, sir,' he answered, ' beyond what has been made.' " ' Then, sir,' I remarked, rising to close the inter view, ' the law will have to take its course. There appears to be no occasion for any further talk on the subject.' " The old man rose to go, but Mrs. Wilder motioned him back, saying, ' Keep your seat, father,' then, turning to me she added, ' Will you allow me to look at those papers ? ' " I handed them to her, and she proceeded to read them very deliberately. There followed a brief whispered conference between her and her husband, and then she said to me, ' Will you tell me what RETROSPECTIVE. ig would be the penalty if my brother should be con victed of this offence ? ' '"There are several offences, madam,' I replied. ' Your brother has committed three distinct acts of forgery in the first degree, the penalty for each of which is not less than ten years in a state prison. He has also committed three distinct acts of false persona tion, which have for each a like penalty, at the dis cretion of the judge. In addition, he has been guilty of one act of embezzlement. This, though morally the worst of the three crimes, has a lighter punish ment five years, at the discretion of the judge. Frankness obliges me to add that your brother could expect no mercy. The judge would regard the case as one calling for the extreme penalty, both on account of your brother's intelligence and knowledge of the law, and because he has done these crimes against an unprotected woman, whose sole support he has taken, and whose confidence he won under pretence of an intention to marry her daughter. Also, the evidence against him is indisputable. I cannot see how he could escape conviction.' " While saying this I looked at young Pritchett. He had lost his brazen assurance, and sat cowering in his chair, his face pallid, and his hands trembling. His soul seemed to have slunk away into the inmost recesses of his body. His sister, too, was very pale ; but she was perfectly self-collected, and had the air of being conscious of having control of the situation. She was at this time about twenty-five, and a most magnificent woman. When I had recounted the 2O THE LAST OF THE TIIOKNDIKKS. penalties, she asked in a quick, decisive tone, ' Is my brother now under arrest ? ' " ' He is under surveillance, not under arrest. How ever, the officer is in the adjoining room ready to serve the warrant as soon as you definitely decline my proposition.' "'Very well, sir,' she answered, 'we accept it. Father, please to sign the deed. You have always said the house should be mine on my marriage.' "'I have always regarded it as yours, and for that reason have not mortgaged it,' said the old man, 1 and if you are foolish enough to throw it away on this scamp of a boy, you can do so. But I tell you I am loaded down to the water's edge I can't agree to pay a rent of twelve hundred dollars.' '"My husband can and will pay it,' said Mrs. Wilder, proudly. ' He would arrange the whole, if Mr. Thorndike were not so obstinate.' " Her manner to me throughout had been stu diously disdainful ; but the thought of those defrauded women had kept me in good temper. Giving no heed to her, I now said to the old man, ' If you assent, Mr. Pritchett, we will execute the papers at once. My brother is a notary.' '"I consider the house my daughter's property,' said the old soap boiler, ' I will sign the deed.' "We went together to the outer office, and in five minutes he had the agreement in his pocket, and I had the deed in mine. Then, as if glad to be well rid of a disagreeable business, he at once left the office with out so much as saying, ' good morning,' to any one. RETROSPECTIVE. 21 On my return to my private room Mrs. Wilder, with even more than her usual asperity, said to me, ' Well sir, now that this case is settled, I suppose that my brother will be free from any more persecution, and that no further publicity will be given to this busi ness.' " ' Madam,' I replied, 'this case is settled so far as my client is concerned ; but you doubtless understand that I have not compounded a felony. Your brother is still liable to a criminal prosecution. The criminal pro ceedings which I began were necessary to prevent his absconding. They will be carried no further. The only persons now informed of the facts are the justice, the detectives, my brother, and ourselves. I shall speak of them to no one else, except my client and her daughter.' "'Then I understand,' she said, tartly, 'that the lady knows nothing of these proceedings that we have you to thank for them ? ' "' Exactly, madam; and you will most sincerely thank me when you appreciate the fact that I have checked your brother in a criminal career, and given him a chance to make an honest man of himself. He is not yet twenty-one, and will probably live long enough to be grateful for what I have done for him.' " ' He probably will, and be duly grateful ; I certainly shall be. Good morning, sir,' and with these words she swept out of the office, her brother and Wilder follow ing in her rear. As Wilder left the room he wrung my hand in a way which said that he thought I had 22 THE LAST OF THE TIIORNDIKES. saved him from a dead loss of twenty thousand dollars. " On that day Mrs. Wilder's dislike for me deepened into hatred, and it was in no way moderated by the discovery, which she soon afterward made, that her husband consulted me on all important subjects. " I lost no time in calling upon the widow and her daughter. To save them anxiety I began my story where your father used to begin the reading of a novel at the conclusion. After stating that the money was safe, I recounted the details. When they real ized the escape they had made, both burst into tears and the mother exclaimed, ' Oh, sir ! you have saved both me and my daughter.' I tell you, Dick, her words were very pleasant. As you go through life you will find your keenest enjoyment to come from helping those who can't help themselves the friend less and fatherless." " And no one ever had more of such enjoyment than you, Uncle," said Richard. " I only hope I may be as much loved as you are, and for the same reason. How long ago did this happen ? " "Just about fifteen years. I remember that it was about a year before your father and mother died." " And what became of young Pritchett ? " " Wilder gave him some money, and he left the country. To trumpet my praises, the widow told the story pretty widely, and Pritchett was afraid of a crim inal prosecution. I suspect that he was a bad fellow generally, and had some bitter enemies whom he feared. Old Pritchett died in about two years, badly RETROSPECTIVE. 23 insolvent, and soon afterward Wilder took a deed of the mansion, and I paid the money over to the widow. And now comes the strangest part of the story. " I had heard nothing from young Pritchett did not know whether he was alive or dead when one day, about five years ago, there came to me a letter from him, enclosing a draft on London for what netted about forty-five thousand dollars. The letter re quested that I would collect the draft, and pay twenty thousand and interest to whoever was entitled to it, and one thousand and interest to Wilder, for the money he had advanced to get Pritchett out of the country. The balance I was to retain for my services in a certain case, for which I had probably never re ceived any compensation. I executed the trusts, and sent a detailed account, with vouchers to Pritchett. Those he acknowledged, and that is the last I have heard of him." " How do you suppose he had made so much money?" " By trade in China. The drafts were from a China house, on its corresponding house in London, and Pritchett's letters were from Hong Kong. That re imbursement shows that the man was not altogether bad ; but if I had not brought him up with a round turn, he would have inevitably gone to destruction. Now, Dick, you know the origin of Mrs. Wilder's re pugnance to me. But it is more than repugnance. It has been for fifteen years, hatred, smouldering but intense, and it broke into a blaze when, after her husband's death, she discovered that he had left her 24 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. only a third of his property. She had expected to have the whole, and she thinks that my advice prevented it ; and to retaliate upon me, she will, if she can, break tip your relations with Charlotte. Now you know what to expect. But if Charlotte loves you as she ought, she will marry you whether her mother consents or not. So go to college, then come into my office and study law, and as soon as you are admitted, I will give you, as I did your father, three-fourths of the profits, and you can marry Charlotte." " Did you give my father three-fourths of your busi ness,. Uncle Rob ? Why ! he was ten years younger than you." " What of that, Dick ? He couldn't have sup ported a wife on less ; and if he hadn't married your mother, you wouldn't be here to comfort me now. So, you see it was a good business operation. But if you should object to such an arrangement on the score of my greater age, why, we'll have all things in common, and no division at all ; you'll live with me, and I'll live with you ; and with you and Lottie both of my children together I shouldn't ask any thing more of this world, nor give much thought to any other." " There never was so generous, true, and noble a heart as yours, Uncle," said the youth, warmly ; "and if I should live to be a hundred, I couldn't pay you for all your goodness to me." <( Pay, Dick ! I get my pay every day principal and compound interest." RETROSPECTIVE. 25 "Well, we shall live together always, Uncle," said the young man, " and Lottie and I will try to be a comfort to your old age. She loves you as I do. But will you let me tell you that she and I have talked over things, and she thinks it would help to mollify her mother if I should go into business. And Lottie wants to conciliate her, if we can. Now, Jack Henshaw told me the other day that his father was looking about for a young man as an apprentice in his counting-house. Would you mind speaking to Mr. Henshaw ? You know it's a big China house, and an apprenticeship means a copartnership at twenty-one, if a young man shows business talent, and is worthy. 1 ' " I know, Dick," said the uncle, slowly and thought fully. " And I know Henshaw we were at Harvard together I will speak to him, and then we will weigh all the pros and cons before coming to a decision." CHAPTER III. STORM IN MIDSUMMER. THE result of the interview had by the older Mr. Thorndike with Mr. Henshaw, and of a subsequent conference between uncle and nephew, was that the young man was at once admitted as a junior clerk in the great China house of Henshaw & Co. In accordance with the custom of the time, he was to receive merely a nominal salary till he became of age^ but then an interest in the firm, should he in the meanwhile have shown the requisite business ability, and proved himself worthy of the confidence of his employers. The arrangement seemed to assure to Richard a liberal income, a respectable position when he should have arrived at manhood, and a fortune not many years thereafter ; for the few great houses that in those days controlled the trade of Boston with China, were mines of gold to their owners. It is said that " the course of true love never did run smooth ; " but now, for nearly four years, not a single ripple disturbed the placid stream that was bearing the two young people on to the unknown hereafter. In consequence of some prenatal contrivance which adapts souls to one another, their hearts had been A STORM IN MIDSUMMER. 27 from the first like the twin notes of some perfectly- toned instrument ; but now, day by day, their natures struck a deeper chord, and evolved a more delightful harmony. The result to Charlotte was a constant joy that did not escape the observation of her mother. It may have been this which reconciled Mrs. Wilder to her daughter's union with a hated Thorndike ; or it may have been the thought that a partner in a great com mercial house was a far more desirable husband than the penniless scion of a musty old Puritan even one who had been among the first Englishmen to set foot in Boston Harbor. Whatever the cause, her demeanor to the young man became courteous, if not exactly cordial. They met but seldom, but when they did meet she was studiously polite , though now and then the young man detected that it cost her a struggle to repress some manifestation of an inward repugnance. This he mentioned to his uncle, saying, " She evidently does not like me, but that gives me no concern. Every day the partners show me more decided marks of favor ; so my future is sure, and whether she is willing or not, the day I am twenty-one I shall marry Lottie." Had he, in some idle hour, pondered those words of Thomas a Kempis, "Man proposes, but God dis poses," he. might have spoken less confidently of a thing subject to so many contingencies as the future of every dweller on this unstable planet. He was accustomed to ride home with his uncle in the old-fashioned gig for this was before the day 23 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. when the street railways, like the spokes of some gigantic wheel, ramified in all directions from the "hub of the universe" and they met to go out together at the stable in Franklin Street. The uncle was a man of most buoyant spirits, and never met the nephew without a greeting that was well-nigh hilari ous; but one summer afternoon when the young man was nearly twenty, and had been about four years with Henshaw & Co., the older gentleman came to the rendezvous with a heavy heart, and a dejected counte nance. The young man noticed his altered mien, but said nothing, and they rode on in silence till they had left the pavement behind them, and entered upon the direct road to Dorchester. Then the young man spoke. " What is it Uncle Rob ? " he said, " you never keep anything from me what is it that troubles you ? " " I don't know how to tell you, Dick," answered the uncle, " it will be such a blow. And it was only last night that you were saying 't would be only a year before we should have Charlotte with us in the old home. It will break my heart if we don't it will break my heart." " It can't be so bad as that," said the young man somewhat startled, but still with the collected manner habitual to him. " But tell me, Uncle. Don't keep me in suspense." " Well," answered the uncle, giving the old gray a smart stroke with the whip a thing he was never known to do before " Henshaw came to see me this morning. He is on the verge of bankruptcy. The A STORM IN MIDSUMMER. 29 great house which has weathered the storms of seventy years has to go down at last. Heavy losses at sea, and the recent failure of his London correspondent, make it impossible for the firm to go on without help to the extent of a hundred thousand dollars. He has tried every way to raise the money, and failed, and all the day I have been at work for him among my friends ; but it is hard to raise so much on the bottomry of ships that are scattered over the four quarters of the globe. I fear it can't be done. The Cunard steamer is due to-morrow. If she brings back Henshaw's pro tested drafts on London, and he don't take them up before the bank closes, the old house has failed." "Failed!" exclaimed the nephew. "Why, Uncle Rob, this is terrible. But the lost ships were insured for a hundred and fifty thousand can't that be realized? " " Not in time. I have been to the Company to-day, and they claim the sixty days. I saw where the pinch was they haven't the money and I offered to take securities ; but they refused to give them perempto rily. I have a faint glimmer of a hope for fifty thou sand to-morrow, and that would tide things over to another steamer : but if it doesn't come, the old firm is gone. Henshaw knew the London house was shaky, and ever since the ships were lost, has seen this com ing, and done all that man could do to avert it ; but he has got to the length of his tether with the worry and suspense he is now completely broken down. He neither eats nor sleeps, and has walked my office nearly all day like a crazy man." 30 THE LAST OF THE TIIORNDIKES. " And he has always been so kind to me ! " said Richard, the tears in his eyes. " Can't you in some way, force the insurance company to give you some thing on which the money can be raised against the steamer's arrival ? " " No, I can't, Dick. I have tried, but they are entitled to sixty days grace, and their hearts are harder than flint. I shall do all I can for him for your sake, and because he has always been so kind to you and you don't know how kind. Why, Dick, in the very midst of his own troubles, when his failure seemed to him inevitable, he set on foot negotiations for you with Lamson & Co., the great house in New York and Hong Kong. It appears that the head of the house lives in China, and means to soon retire, and he has written the New York firm to send him out a young man he can train to step into his shoes. Henshaw knows them intimately, and what he has said of you has led them to offer you a tremendous salary till you are of age, and then a copartnership such a share, Henshaw says, as will amount to three times what he could do for you, even if he should weather the storm." " That is very kind of Mr. Henshaw, Uncle," said the young man, "but I don't want to go to China to leave you and Lottie." " Neither do I want you to go, Dick ; and I've felt sure you'd refuse, and am glad you do. But here we are at Wilders', and there is Lottie at the little wicket." " Let me stop, uncle," said Richard, " and ask her A STORM IN MIDSUMMER. 31 over to the house this evening. I want to talk all this over with her." The evening found the three seated in the library of the older Thorndike, he in his high-backed chair, his dog curled up at his feet ; his nephew opposite, and the young woman upon a near-by lounge, with a brace of kittens the grandchildren of the previous pair purring upon her lap. She was not what is ordinarily accounted beautiful, yet she had wavy auburn hair, a clear broad forehead, regular and flex ible features, and eyes of marvellous depth and color, out of which, in repose, shone a spiritual light, a gen tle serenity, that irresistibly attracted the beholder. She listened to the unwelcome intelligence without remark, or apparent emotion, but when the young man had finished the statement, she said to him, with a look of peculiar tenderness, " And if your uncle should fail to get the money to-morrow, what then, Dickon?" "Then I can see nothing else to do but to go to China," answered Richard. "If I should go, I could come back in five years with a moderate fortune. In the great goodness of his heart, Uncle Rob proposes we should all live here, and upon his income ; but that, Lottie, I could never do. It is time I was a help to him, not a burden as I have been." " But you forget, Dickon," she said in a gentle tone, "that in but little more than two years I shall come into my property. Then it will all be yours, and be enough to maintain us all, even if you are not in business." 32 THE LAST OF THE TIIORNDIKES. "That would be worse than living upon Uncle Rob," said the young man. " To say nothing of your mother, I should have the entire community styling me a mere fortune-hunter." She knew him too well to argue with him upon a subject which he deemed to concern his manliness, and she merely said, " Well, we must patiently wait the result of to-morrow. But, if it is unfavorable, we must find some way to avoid your going to China." Not to be out so late as to excite remark from her mother, she soon afterwards returned to her home, and as he left her at her mother's door, she threw her arms about his neck, and said to him, almost sobbing " Oh ! I cannot let you go, Dickon. Let me come to your uncle's to-morrow evening ; and promise me now that you will not go, if I am not willing." He made the promise, and then left her to pray to the good Lord all through the night, not to take him from her. The kittens were asleep, curled up together on the lounge, the dog was in his accustomed place at his master's feet, and the young man sat in a near-by chair, his head in his hands, and absorbed in gloomy reflections, when she entered the library on the follow ing evening. He rose as she came into the room, and leading her to a chair, said, "There is no good news, Lottie. The money could not be got, and the steamer having come in, Henshaw & Co. have gone to protest. Before we left town they had made to Uncle Rob an assignment in bankruptcy." A STORM IN MIDSUMMER. 33 " I knew the firm had failed," she said, quietly. " Mr. Cravan heard of it as soon as the banks closed, and rode out at once to tell mother. She has for bidden my having any further relations with you." Before the young man could reply to this remark, the older gentleman said: "Dick is just like his father, Lottie, proud as Lucifer. He won't bring a wife here, and live on the common stock, and he won't have it said that he marries for money. Now, what shall we do ? " " Let me go to China," said the young man, answer ing the question. " But you've promised me you would not, if I'm not willing," said the young woman. "And I will not," he answered ; "but think of it, Lottie. I can return in five years with money enough to establish me here in business. The time will soon go away, and then I can marry you, and feel that I am a man. Your mother will now give you no peace, if I am anywhere in the country. If I go away, she may think you'll forget me." " And will you not forget me ? " she asked. " Never, Lottie." " All this is very fine," now said the uncle; "but what will become of me? You don't think of me, my children." " You will have me, Uncle," said the young woman, moving to a chair nearer the older gentleman, and look ing up lovingly in his face. " I will come to you every day, and Richard will be away only five years. 3 34 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. He will be only twenty-five, and I twenty-four when he comes back." " But five years is a long time, and I may be in my grave be'fore he returns," said the older Mr. Thorn- dike. " Let me tell you a better way, children. I have this house and a good practice. I give away too much, and waste a good deal upon knick-knacks, but that I can remedy. With moderate economy, my income will be enough to keep us all. Dick has the little his father left him, and, if anything should happen to me, that would provide for you both for a time. Mean while I'll find some one with capital to start with him in a new business. You shall marry him at once, my pretty one, and come here and be mistress of the house. It shall all be yours." Springing to her feet, she clasped her arms tightly about his neck, and in a burst of half tears, half laugh ter, and all tenderness, exclaimed, " Haven't I said you are the best and dearest uncle in all the world ! I'll come, and I'll darn your stockings, and brush your clothes, and dust your books, and keep your papers in order, and have your slippers always ready for you by the lounge, and " And feed the kittens, and pet the dog, and fondle the rabbits, and hug the old fellow so tight when he comes home that he'll scarcely have breath enough to thank God for giving him such a child to bless his last days," cried the older gentleman, the tears coming into his eyes. "Yes," said the young woman, "and then, Dickon, A STORM IN MIDSUMMER. 35 you'll come home and call me your little wife, and we shall be so, so happy." Very beautiful was she as she said this her face all aglow, and her great hazel eyes beaming on him with unutterable affection. Truly, love is of God, and " he that loveth not knoweth not God, for God is love." At this moment a knock came at the front door, and a moment later a servant announced, " Mrs. Wilder." Charlotte sprang to a chair by the side of Richard, and at that instant her mother entered the apartment. A thin shawl was thrown loosely over her head, and she wore a stiff ruff, and a plain muslin gown suitable to the season. In the very noon of life, a little taller than her daughter, with a well developed form, a wavy mass of grayish hair, and large gray eyes which now were bent upon the older gentleman with a mingled look of scorn and indignation, she seemed what she was, a woman born to command a husband or a regi ment. " Well, sir," she said, pausing on the threshold of the room, "things have come to a pretty pass when you, who profess to be a gentleman, and my dead husband's friend, make your house a rendezvous for these young people." An indescribable expression came on Robert Thorn- dike's face, but he answered in a tone of gentle rail lery, " And why not, madam ? Pray be seated. Is not my house my nephew's home ? In what other place should he receive his friends?" " His friends ! " she exclaimed. " A silly girl who imagines herself in love with a penniless boy. You do wrong, sir, to encourage such nonsense." 36 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. " Why so, madam ? I beg you to be seated. Let us discuss this subject with proper deliberation." With evident reluctance the lady took the proffered chair, and in the same strain of badinage the older Thorndike went on. " Pardon me, madam ; what wrong is there in two young people loving one an other? Is it not eminently proper and natural that they should ? Did not you and I love somebody when we were young ? Does not love animate the whole creation ? Does not the acid rush into the arms of the alkali, the sun every morning wed the earth, and all animal and vegetable life result from the marriage? Even the imponderable forces show the same loving affinity the two poles of electricity have a tender affection for each other, and you have fre quently witnessed their wedding solemnities when they come together in the clouds with such a letting off of fireworks as ought to startle us out of our incre dulity in the mighty affinities of all created things." " Excuse me, sir," said the widow, tapping the floor impatiently with her foot, " I did not come here to listen to a discourse on metaphysics." " I don't suppose you did, madam," he responded, with the same imperturbable manner. " I don't sup pose you did ; but I want you to understand this sub ject, and therefore I will come down a little in my illustrations. Do you observe these two little kittens?" " Kittens, sir ! " exclaimed the lady with a scornful toss of the head. " A dissertation upon kittens i Really, Mr. Thorndike, you must excuse me." A STORM IN MIDSUMMER. 37 " If I do, madam, you'll be the loser they are ex ceedingly interesting." "Well, sir," said Mrs. Wilder, smiling now in spite of herself, " I do not see any kittens I see a cat." " That is precisely the point, madam, and it illus trates what I would say perfectly. It is not a cat, but two kittens, nestled so closely together that from where you sit, they seem not two but one. Be good enough to draw your chair a trifle nearer, and you will perceive that what I say is so, and the sight will pay you for the trouble. They are as good as any menag erie you ever witnessed." With a curious expression of face, as if undecided whether to be amused or offended, Mrs. Wilder drew her chair somewhat nearer to the lounge, and looked closely at the sleeping kittens. "Thank you, madam," said the older gentleman. " Now, please to observe that his arm is about her neck, and her head upon his breast. I will wake them, and have them tell you what they think of one another for they can talk." "Talk, sir!" echoed Mrs. Wilder, becoming really interested. "Yes, madam; but not having the organs of speech, they talk with their tails. One wag is simple assent, two wags are emphatic, and three are decidedly em phatic. I will wake them now, and you will be good enough to let me carry on the conversation, for they will pay no attention to strangers. First, the gentle man kitten will look up to me and smile and then 447276 38 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. lovingly embrace the partner of his bosom. Now, Dick, my boy, wake up." The little cat opened its eyes, looked up at its mas ter, and displayed its teeth in a very respectable grin. " Now, sir, salute your wife," said Mr. Thorndike ; and Dick rubbed his nose against that of his part ner in a very affectionate manner. " Now, tell me, do you love your wife?" The kitten answered with a single wag of its tail. " How much do you love your wife ?" Three decided shakes of the tail answered this question. " Now, my pretty one, do you love Dick very much? " The feline lady gave three hearty wags of the tail, put her forepaws about Dick's neck, and laid her head again upon his breast. " It is wonderful, very wonderful," exclaimed Mrs. Wilder, " to think that brute creatures can be made to act so like human beings." "Not so wonderful, madam," rejoined Mr. Thorn- dike, "as that reasonable creatures should so often act like fools. We go counter to nature ; they act with it. We try to keep our young folks apart ; they come together almost as soon as they open their eyes, and they never ask if one or the other has more or less of worldly advantages all they ask is a loving heart." Fearing that Mrs. Wilder was about to take offence at his uncle's badinage, Richard now remarked : " Mrs. Wilder, you complain of my uncle's allowing me to meet Charlotte at his house. Permit me to say that A STORM IN MIDSUMMER. 39 she came at my request, to decide with me a subject of the utmost importance to both of us, and I am very glad that you have come in upon our interview." " Indeed, sir ! " said the lady. This was said with a quiet disdain, but giving no heed to her manner, the young man continued in a firm but respectful tone : " Yes, madam, and the de cision rests with you. I am deliberating about going to China, to be away five years. I shall then be able to return with enough to start me well in the world here, and to maintain your daughter in the style to which she has been accustomed. Lottie consenting, I shall go, if you agree to certain conditions." " And what are the conditions?" she asked. " That you will not, while I am away, force upon Charlotte the attentions of any young man not deny ing her the society of gentlemen, but leaving her free to choose for herself. And that you will not mention me to her during my absence. Give me your word to this, and I will set out within a fortnight." " And what if I do not consent to these conditions ? " " Then I shall marry Charlotte as soon as I can find a clergyman to perform the ceremony to-night, if there is no legal impediment." " What do you say to this, young woman ? " asked Mrs. Wilder, turning imperiously to her daughter. Charlotte, paying no attention to her mother's ques tion, grasped the hand of Richard, saying, " Will you go so far away, for five long years, when we can live here, and be so so very happy? " " What would you ! " cried her mother, her eyes 4do whether to ask release from his China engagement, and. go home, or to stay out the stipulated five years, and at its close return with the fortune he hoped to meanwhile accumulate. In this dilemma he decided to lay the whole subject before Mr. Lamson, the senior partner, 54 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. who on his arrival had taken him to his own home, and told him to regard himself as a member of his family. It was a charming household the mother, a kind, matronly woman, of middle age, the daughter, a strangely beautiful girl, just stepping into womanhood. As the family sat together one evening after dinner in the library of the mansion, a spacious room looking out over the broad China sea, the young man said to his new employer, " Mr. Lamson, you have received me most kindly ; and may I ask you to be still more kind by allowing me to give you my full confidence ?" Mr. Lamson looked up from the pile of American papers which had come by the newly-arrived ship, and answered cordially, "Most certainly I will." Then to his daughter he said, " Come, my dear, give your mother and me a kiss, and let us know how delightful it is to be without your society for a little time." The young lady rose to obey, when the young man said hastily, " By no means, Mr. Lamson. I have no secrets that I would keep from any member of your family." "I thank you, Mr. Thorndike," said the young lady. " You are far more polite than father owing, no doubt, to your being so lately from Boston." " Well, you are polite, my dear," rejoined her father, smiling, " but now be good enough to let Mr. Thorn- dike speak." " I am opening to you, Sir," said the young man, " that which is very sacred to me ; but you cannot understand what I would say unless you know all. AT THE ANTIPODES. 55 Will you be so good as to read these?" And he handed to him the letters from Charlotte and his uncle. " Shall my wife hear them ? " asked Mr. Lamson. " Certainly, Sir," he answered. " I would very much like to have Mrs. Lamson's advice." Then Mr. Lamson in a low, deliberate tone read the letters in their consecutive order, pausing every now and then to ask some explanation, or make some com ment. When he had finished, he said : " I perceive what you desire to know whether you shall return home, or remain with us in China." " Yes, Sir," said Richard, " I wish you would advise me as if you were my father." " I will," answered Mr. Lamson, "and Rachel will you speak now, or shall I give the first opinion ? " " You speak first, Israel," said Mrs. Lamson. " My mind is made up ; but no doubt you think as I do." " Well, Richard, you see I mean to begin at once, and regard you as one of my family. First, let me say that I have seen a good deal of the world, and this is what I have everywhere observed. No man succeeds in life who allows himself to be diverted from his course by every occurring obstacle. A young man setting out in his career, should form a definite plan, and adhere to it whatever the discourage ments. All great successes in life are achieved by fixed resolve, and persistent effort. If you go back to Boston now, you alter your plan, and throw away a full year of your life. And suppose you do go back, 56 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. go again with Henshaw, are admitted at twenty-one, and marry Miss Wilder. Henshaw's firm is badly crippled, if they have, as you think, lost a hundred and fifty thousand. That being so, their profits divided among five and your interest would be a minor one would not enable you to support your wife in the way she has been accustomed to living. The result would be you would be obliged to use her income, and to avoid doing that is what brought you to China. You couldn't be of much help in settling your uncle's estate. It probably is not very large, or very complicated, and, if it were, it couldn't be in any better hands than Henshaw's." " On the other hand, suppose you stay in China. And now I will speak in entire frankness, and tell you that our New York partner did not make the arrange ment with you until he had thoroughly satisfied himself that you are precisely the young man that we want. Besides, the " John Adams " brought me a private letter from Henshaw, in which he speaks of you in the strongest terms possible, and what he says is confirmed by my own impressions. Therefore, your future here is decided. You take an eighth interest with us when you are of age, and that, when your term is up, will be not less than a hundred thousand dollars. With that money you can, if you choose, return and marry any woman in America." " Are you quite sure of that, my dear ? " said Mrs. Lamson, smiling. " I scarcely think that sum would buy me, if I were attractive, and pretty, and not, say, more than thirty." AT THE ANTIPODES. 57 "Nor would it me," cried Miss Lamson, "I should ask at least a million." "Oh! you would" said her father, with comic gravity. " I'll wager you'll marry some seedy fellow not worth a single Mexican; and as for your mother why, my dear, if my memory serves me, you cost me precisely a hundred and fifty dollars, and your passage out. That was the exact sum, and I remem ber it well, for it was every dollar I had in the world." " I know," rejoined Mrs. Lamson, " but you were so lovable, and so handsome, you know. You wouldn't think it, Richard, but he was, when young, the handsomest man in the two continents. That is why I came fifteen thousand miles to many him." The young man could but laugh at the badinage of these very agreeable people, though in truth he was in no mood to be amused. " Well, Richard, to resume," said Mr. Lamson. "If you remain here five years, you will be mas ter of a hundred thousand dollars, and can then return to America if you like. But you will not return. You will step into my shoes ; your interest will be enlarged, and in twenty years you will go out with a million. And now, I will tell you confiden tially, that I shall remain here only another five years. I shall then retire from the house, and go home to lay my bones in my native soil. You will succeed me here, if you are so disposed. I had this in view when we made the arrangement with you. But you think I have forgotten Miss Wilder. Not at all. My 58 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. wife's remark suggests how to arrange about her. Draw a thousand dollars advance ; send it to her by Captain Craig of the " Cleopatra," who clears for Bos ton within a week. He brought my wife out twenty odd years ago, and he will bring Miss Wilder as safely as she could come if you yourself were with her. She will be here by the time a letter can go and return. You will bring her to our house, and this will be your home until I leave, when you will enter into full possession of it, for this establishment belongs to the firm." This unexpected kindness from comparative stran gers brought tears into the young man's eyes, and he answered, " You are too good, Sir. I couldn't think of crowding a wife into your family." " It would not be crowding she would be society for my daughter. My wife has fallen in love with you she told me so only last night, and we already admire .Miss Wilder. Such a grand, heroic girl, as she proved herself at the time of your uncle's death, we could not help loving." " Oh, do send for her," now said Miss Lamson, " You say she is only my age I will be a sister to her." The young man's heart was too full for words. The dark cloud seemed to be lifting from his life, and the future to be opening upon him with all the gorgeous hues of a summer's sunrising. If his uncle were but alive he would ask no more. Surely, he thought, this life of ours is, after all, worth living. Mrs. Lamson now spoke. " Yes, Richard," she AT THE ANTIPODES. 59 said, " it is just as my husband says, and he is always right. Send for Miss Wilder. We will take her into our hearts, as if she were our own daughter. And she will be very happy here. I have lived in China twenty-one years, and my life has been uninterrupted happiness. I should not think of returning if my husband did not wish to die in his native country. I will write Miss Wilder, tell her what my life here has been, and urge her to come. And she will come. I left a luxurious home to join my husband here when he was well-nigh penniless, and I have never regretted it." Oppressed by his emotions the young man was silent, and Mr. Lamson said, " Do as we suggest, Richard ; say but the word and I will, direct Captain Craig to fit up for Miss Wilder the best state-room in the ' Cleopatra.' She sails like the wind, and the young lady will be with you in ten months from to-day." " I will do as you suggest, Sir," said Richard, " and I trust the future will show that I appreciate the goodness of yourself and your family." The " Cleopatra " took two letters from young Thorn- dike, one to Miss Wilder, the other to Mr. Henshaw. In that to Mr. Henshaw, after thanking him for assuming the administration of his uncle's estate, and making some suggestions about the renting of the homestead and disposal of the other property, he stated that he had written Miss Wilder by the same ship, inviting her to take a return passage by the " Cleopatra," and join him in China. She would no doubt be found at her mother's home in Dorchester, 60 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. but if not there, her residence could be ascertained by inquiring of Mr. John Cravan. He would thank Mr. Henshaw if he would call upron her personally, and tender his services in facilitating her departure, and he remarked that possibly, and indeed very prob ably, her coming would be opposed by her mother. In view of this probability he desired Mr. Henshaw to see that she had perfect freedom to follow her own inclination. To his affianced he wrote a letter of many pages, enclosing one from Mrs. Lamson, with a bill of ex change on the New York branch of Lamson & Co. payable to the order of Charlotte Wilder. A few days later he stood upon the noble quay at Hong Kong, and watched the tall, tapering masts of the " Cleopatra " as they sank slowly below the blue water. As the last slender spar disappeared, his spirits rose free and buoyant. In another short ten months his affianced wife would stand with him upon that spot, and be his forever. The future rose before him glad and radiant. He no longer walked the earth ; he trod among the stars. This buoyancy of spirit he carried into his business. Applying himself to it with determined energy, he soon acquired the broken dialect of the trading Chinese, made himself familiar with the different grades of teas and silks, and the immense correspond ence of the great house. Mr. Lamson observed his earnest application with evident pleasure, and a ge nial, outspoken man he did not hesitate to express his gratification. AT THE ANTIPODES. 6 1 Thus several months glided away, and young Thorndike became day by day more accustomed to his new life, more at home in the agreeable family of Mr. Lamson, and more reconciled to the thought of a long residence so far away from his native country. He received letters from his affianced by every incom ing ship, and each one told him how patiently, and yet hopefully, she was was waiting for the time that would bring him back to her forever. CHAPTER V. HONG KONG. THE island of Hong Kong at this period held about one hundred thousand people, and was under British rule, though not three thousand of its population were Europeans,, and of these, less than one thousand were English and Americans. The place had been ceded to Great Britain in 1842, and then contained only a few fishermen's huts, occupied by a low order of Chinese; but on this naked rock had since arisen a city that is one of the wonders of our modern time. Starting from the northern shore, and climbing the mountain side, terrace above terrace, and along streets hewn out of solid stone, it is an immense amphitheatre of palaces and warehouses, the like of which is to be seen nowhere else in the world. And this vast fabric of Anglo-Saxon enterprise had been erected by a handful of merchants, in the space of less than half a generation. One of the chief of these merchant princes was the American, Israel Lamson. He had removed from Shanghai when Hong Kong first came under British rule, and his broad mind, and great energy, had impressed themselves upon it from the day the cor- HONG KONG. 63 ner-stone was laid of its first warehouse. He was still a leading element in its social and business life ; but he no longer gave the active attention to public affairs that he had given when his own fortune was in process of building. He had passed the stage of accu mulation, and arrived at that of distribution not now aiming to make money, but to expend it, and in ways to benefit his fellow-creatures of whatever race or nationality. So engrossed had young Thorndike been in master ing the details of his position, that nearly four months after his arrival at Hong Kong he had seen nothing more of its wonderful capital, Victoria, than fell under his eye on his business rounds, or in his short walks to and from the English chapel on Sundays. But one morning about this time, as he sat at break fast with the family, Miss Lamson said to him, " Mr. Thorndike, would you not like to take a turn to-day around the Island ? I will show you all its won ders." " Thank you, Miss Isabel," he answered, " I will be glad to go with you after business hours." " No, now," said the impetuous young lady. " The morning is the time to see life in Hong Kong. Father won't mind. He will do your work for to-day. You confine yourself too closely to business, and seem to forget that there is a young woman belonging to the establishment." " Yes, .Richard," said Mr. Lamson, "go, and make a day of it. Isabel will give you a merry time, and it will do you good." 64 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. Sing Tow, the Chinese coachman of the family, being directed to get up the drag in half an hour they set out on the exploration. The drag, was an open, low-hung, four-wheeled vehicle, with two seats, and was drawn by a pair of Mongolian ponies, small and clean-limbed, but tough, active, and spirited, and trained to go at the very top of their speed. The coachman wore a pith hat, and a close-fitting suit of white flannel, cut in the European style, and but for the inevitable pig-tail coiled upon the top of his head, he might have been taken for a slightly-tanned Lon don Jehu. It was a delicious morning in early May. The extreme hot season had not arrived, and a cool breeze swept in from the sea, fanning their cheeks, and mak ing their young blood to leap along their veins in a perfect jubilee of enjoyment. "Give me the reins, Sing," said Miss Isabel, taking a place on the front seat of the drag. " I want to show Mr. Thorndike one of my numerous accomplishments." The young man took the back seat, and in a moment Isabel gave the ponies their heads, and they were off, whirling along Mr. Lamson's private avenue and down the public road at a perfect break-neck pace, into the very heart of Victoria. Isabel handled the reins as if she had been born to the vocation ; and she was a glorious creature. Only nineteen, she was in the full bloom of early womanhood. Above the medium height, with a full, exquisitely-rounded form, and a finely poised head, she was the very perfection of physical beauty. Her long, dark-brown hair, let HONG KONG. 65 loose by the rapid motion in the freshening wind, had escaped from underneath her gipsy hat, and now was streaming about the young man's face in a tan gled mass of wavy luxuriance. She turned with a merry laugh, and a face glowing with excitement, to catch the runaway ringlets, and then Richard, for the first time realized her surpassing loveliness. Her face was one for a sculptor ; but sculpture could not give the ever-changing color of her olive, rose-tinted cheeks, nor the varying expression of her mobile lips, and glorious eyes, dark and languishing as those of the fabled beauties of the Arabian Nights. But she was no mere flesh and blood beauty. She had a soul. In her fine face, fluctuating as her features did with every tide of feeling, it shone clear and pure a little wayward, a little conscious of its power, and yet, gen tle, true, and loving. During this digression the young people "have been rushing at headlong speed into the very heart of the town. The road is not over-wide, but very good the best in China and they bowled rapidly along heed less of the crowds of Parsees, Sikhs, Sepoys, Malays, Chinamen, Manillamen and mongrel Spaniards and Portuguese, that were everywhere in the way, almost blocking up the thoroughfare. Everybody in China lives out of doors, but at this early hour the streets are unusually populous. Soon they came upon a particularly dense throng, among whom was a China man trundling a wheelbarrow, with two others hold ing on at the sides, and a Chinese lady in a sedan chair, borne by a couple of coolies. It seemed cer- 5 66 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. tain that they would run these people down, and Richard said to the fair coachman, " Pardon me, Miss Isabel. Is not going at such speed dangerous in this crowded street ? " " Oh ! no," she cried. " They know enough to get out of the way. Fast driving is the fashion here. If we were to go slower they'd take us for Chinese." They did " get out of the way," and such scream ing, and shouting, and ground-and-lofty tumbling, never were seen in any civilized country outside of a travelling circus. But on went the merry party, now grazing a butcher's stall, now brushing against a huckster's booth, now dodging a fisherman's stand, now upsetting an orangeman, now spilling a coolie with a water tank slung to the two ends of a pole, and every now and then plunging through a motley mixture of all nations, who with wild shouts scattered hither and yonder; and then turned about to gaze with open-eyed wonder at the novel sight of a delicate " Melican lady" playing Jehu to a broad-breasted " Melican man," in a low-down drag, through the crowded streets of Victoria. But on they went ! past all sorts of shops, with all sorts of wares temptingly displayed in the windows ; past a stately English church around which were open grounds, and some new-made graves ; past a street theatre where native actors in tattooed bodies, and rouge-bedaubed faces, were wailing out monoto nous discord ; past a Buddhist temple in a small, gravelled enclosure, where crowds of priests were mut tering long prayers, with bowed faces, and foreheads HONG KONG. 67 every now and then, pummelling the ground ; past a packing-house where half-clad coolies, with naked feet, were stamping tea into chests, to be sipped by many a fastidious dame in far-away Britain and America ; past a Catholic school, where sable-robed Sisters were fitting Chinese boys to be Christian missionaries to the rising native generation ; and past the Hall of Confucius, where indigent youths were trained to be Mandarins ; for in this celestial land the highest station is within reach of the lowest, if he only- has knowledge that is, understands the eight diagrams of Fohy, and the male and female principle which is enclosed in the mundane egg. Verily, great is knowl- edge'and great is Confucius, its mundane prophet ! Still on they went! past a magnificent park of many acres, wherein were trees, flowers, lakes, and a beautiful fountain, fed by a mountain spring that sends its pure stream into every house in Victoria ; past a Chinese market where dressed dogs, rats, cats and kittens, all juicy and luscious, were alluringly dis played to tempt the Chinese palate ; past the splendid government buildings, where gold-laced Englishmen were lounging idly around the courts and corridors ; past the barracks where a single regiment of Sepoy and British soldiers was under drill, to keep these hundred thousand mongrel Orientals in civilized sub jection ; past a funeral procession, with a long line of white-robed mourners, who, with a band of music playing a lively tune, were bearing some rich John Chinaman to the home of his ancestors ; past that ancestral home, where a dead generation rests above 68 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. ground in tall, two-storied coffins, whereon are piled huge mounds of earth and stone to keep them from a premature resurrection. Passing all these things, curious to untravelled American eyes, they emerged upon a wide space, and thence sped down a broad avenue to the seashore, all the while going at the same breakneck pace, the various objects flitting past them as if seen from the windows of a railway car. Here they paused to catch a puff of the delicious sea breeze, and Richard said to the young lady, " This gait will bang up your ponies, Miss Isabel. They will break down before we get home." " Oh ! no they won't," answered the glowing beauty. " They are built on springs wind them up f and they will run all day." And so it seemed as they set out again, moving as if run by the electricity, which, at their every step, came out at their heels. Now, they turned into a a broad avenue, leading upward to the Peak, the grass-grown summit that crowns the Island, and over looks the town, and the China sea, as far away as the eye can reach. In ascending this slope Miss Isabel was obliged to slacken speed, for even her Mongolian beauties could not climb an angle of nearly forty degrees at a pace much above a walk. This hill is one of the most beautiful spots on the globe a Christian Paradise in the very heart of Heathendom. Nothing in Italy is so fine as its green lawns, studded with magnificent oaks, magnolias, and conifers ; its luxuriant parterres, blooming with grape, HONG KONG. 69 orange, lemon, and citron groves, and fragrant with every variety of semi-tropical flower. The stately villas of purest marble, or native stone, which stud the slopes and ravines of this hill, look down on a scene scarcely equalled in magnificence by any in the world. There are the homes of the single thousand English and Americans who rule, and almost entirely own, Hong Kong. Seen at night, lit up by innumer able jets of gas, these villas, as they rise one above another, the grassy Peak crowning the whole, seem a glittering star-gemmed pyramid. They paused long at the summit to view the mag nificent scene the Chinese dwellings huddled to gether along the beach, the great clipper ships moored at the docks, unloading cargo from the other ends of the world ; the innumerable Chinese junks, anchored near the shore, where the Manchu mermaids were per forming their toilets in the sun, and their numberless little ones were toddling about the greasy decks, with bamboo life-preservers tied underneath their arms to keep them afloat should they fall overboard among the sharks ; and the broad bay, sparkling in the sun, whereon were anchored several huge men-of-war, gayly dressed out in bunting, and flying the ensigns of France and England ; and, far away, where a tall clipper ship, all her canvas spread, and the cross of St. George waving at her peak, was beating up to town in the light, uncertain breeze. After awhile they set out again down the long, winding road. Here, to make intelligible what fol lows, I must explain that Hong Hill is every here and /O THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. there furrowed by deep ravines, through which run roads that interlace those from the summit at varying angles, the two often crossing under and over one another, like the tracks of intersecting railways. Mid way down the hill is one of these intersections, where the road the young people were on, after curving abruptly, crosses the avenue below upon a bridge, spanning a ravine all of fifty feet down in rocky decliv ity. At a point not far above this bridge, the road from the summit has a slope of fully forty degrees, but below the bridge, for a distance of some six hun dred yards, it runs along a level plateau, and then again slopes more gently down to the lower level, on which stood the mansion of Mr. Lamson. The ponies set out down the hill on their accus tomed flying gait, but young Thorndike quickly said, " Do, Miss Isabel ; hold them in ; you will spill us out, and break our necks." The young lady laughed, drew a taut rein upon the animals, and told Sing Tow to put down the brake. The Chinaman obeyed with alacrity, showing a full appreciation of the danger; but either the brake did not hold, or the spirited ponies were inclined to choose their own pace. Whichever it was, away they flew with unslackened speed, and in a few moments were entirely beyond control, and rapidly nearing the steep descent above the bridge. They might stumble in going down the slope, and throw the young people out headlong, or they might swerve from the track, at the bend in the road, thus miss the bridge, and land them all fifty feet below at the bottom of the ravine. This was the Greater dan- HONG KONG. 71 ger, for the curve was very abrupt, and not twenty- five feet from the bridge. The situation was critical, and there was no time for ceremony ; so, telling Sing Tow to change places with him, the young man stepped quickly over the front seat, and saying to Isabel, " You had better let me handle them," took the reins into his hands. The young lady was pale and anxious, but cool and self- collected, and she watched him now with an intense look, which showed that she fully realized how much might depend on his slightest movement. She knew that if he could keep the horses on their feet while going down, and send them straight over the bridge, he might trust to main strength o check their speed on the level plateau beyond. Soon the ponies struck the slope, and went bound ing down the steep hillside. He held a taut and even rein, but made no effort to reduce their pace. They seemed before at the top of their speed, but now they merely skimmed the ground, and their pace seemed to be increasing. Still, the young man made no attempt to hold them in : he only kept his eye, quick and intent as the panther's when about to spring, on the road, taking in, with the driver's instinctive sight, the ponies' legs, now moving with almost lightning- like velocity. Half way down the nigh horse stum bled slightly ; but a sudden, yet steady, pull at the reins brought him up with a spring, and on they went again whirling. Soon they were at the curve in the road, just above the bridge, and not fifteen feet away yawned the 72 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. rocky declivity, and certain destruction. It was the critical moment, and at this moment, in this most dan gerous spot, the fore foot of the off pony struck a stone, and he was down, nearly to his knees, in an instant. In another instant they would be rolling over that fifty feet of precipice ; but leaping like lightning half-way erect, the manly young fellow gave a power ful upward pull that lifted the pony to his feet, and in a second more they were over the bridge in safety. Over the bridge, but still speeding like the wind along the smooth roadway. And now came the tug of war, when Mongolian mettle met Yankee muscle, and was conquered. Bracing his feet against the dash board, the young man threw his shoulders back, and brought a steady, but powerful, strain upon the bits of the now frightened and furious animals. They leap, they run, they chafe, they plunge, they rear ; but it is all of no avail. Their speed slackens, and before they have gone three hundred yards, that un yielding restraint has brought them up all standing. " Bravo ! " cried the young woman, looking at Rich ard, her eyes gleaming with admiration. " You are a Hercules." He was immensely relieved, and he answered gayly, " Well, I weigh a hundred and seventy pounds, and stand six feet in my stockings." "You have saved our lives," she said, bending im pulsively towards him. " Possibly I have," he answered, quietly, " but my own was at stake, so, I deserve no thanks. But, par don me, Miss Isabel, I beg to relinquish the ribbons." HONG KONG. 73 " No, sir ! " she said, emphatically, " I'll never drive you again henceforth you shall be my coach man." They arrived at the mansion in time for the one o'clock " tiffin," and found Mr. Lamson and his wife in the library. Isabel had no sooner opened the door than she ran to her father, threw her arms about his neck, and exclaimed, " Oh ! Father, we have come so near being killed ! And we should have been, had it not been for Mr. Thorndike." Then she related their narrow escape, with the warmth natural to a young and ardent imagination. Before she had finished the nar ration, Mrs. Lamson's arms were about the young man's neck, and when she had concluded, Mr. Lamson said, " Richard, you don't know how much you have done for me ; but I shall not waste words in thanking you. You have shown very rare qualities. It is just such cool calculation, and steady courage, that make the great merchant." It was in ways like this that young Thorndike be came, day by day, more attached to his new home, and its lovable inmates. CHAPTER VI. MERCHANT PRINCES. WHILE the family were at dinner on the following day, Isabel said to Mr. Lamson, " Father, I have for gotten to ask you what new clipper that was which we saw coming in, when we were at the Peak yester day?" " The ' Georgiana Alger,' my dear," answered Mr. Lamson, "brand new, and just from Boston by the way of London, with the owner on board." " Then, I suppose she was built in Boston," said young Thorndike. " Yes, at East Boston, by Donald McKay. You see, Richard, the English are wiser than we are they allow foreign-built ships to be owned and registered in Great Britain." " And did Mr. Alger bring his Man Friday along with him? " asked Isabel. " I presume you mean Mr. Shepherd, my dear," said her father. " He is with him. You have proba bly perceived, Richard, that Bella is a young lady of strong likes and dislikes, and somewhat outspoken." " I have, sir," answered Richard, " and if Miss Isabel will allow me to say it I like her the better for it." MERCHANT PRINCES. 75 " Thank you, Richard," answered Isabel. " You see I intend to call you, as father does, ' Richard,' for you've been on my list of heroes ever since yesterday." "And you'll give me a certificate as coachman, whenever I apply for it ?" said the young man, laugh ing. " Yes, and I'll do more promise never to employ any other, when you are at command." " So, Richard, you've got into business," said her father. "You'll find you have your hands full. But, Bella, I had forgotten to say that Mr. Alger desired me to tell you, and your mother, that he will do him self the honor to call upon you to-morrow evening ; so, young lady, please to be on your good-behavior, for he is rich." This was said in a tone of badinage, to which the young lady responded in a similar vein. " So am I," she said, " that is, I've a rich father. Therefore, I'm looking about for some poor young man poor, but honest. I don't believe Mr. Alger is either one or the other ; and moreover he's an Eng lishman." " When a young lady sits as both judge and jury, there is no appeal," said Mr. Lamson. Dinner was just concluded when a servant entered the room, and announced that the " black Melican sisterlee " had called, and desired an interview with Mr. Lamson. " Show them into the office, I'll be there directly," said Mr. Lamson. " And, Richard, will you come into the library when they have gone? I've a little matter ! wish to talk over with you." 76 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. The young man assented, and when Mr. Lamson had left the room, his wife remarked. " You have never met the Sisters, Richard ? " " No, ma'am," he replied. " I have never had the opportunity. Are they not when here always clos eted with Mr. Lamson?" " Yes, generally, about school matters : but some time, when you are at home, I'll ask them into the library. You'd like to know Sister Theresa. She is the most spiritually-minded, and at the same time, clear- minded, person I ever knew. She lives in heavenly thoughts, and yet, has wonderful practical wisdom. My husband thinks her a very remarkable woman." "And she is very beautiful, Richard," said Isabel. " You never saw such a spiritual face, and such eyes why, looking into them you seem to see right into Paradise. She is an English nobleman's daughter, and has given up home, and every luxury, to teach these poor Chinese. Is she not a heroine ? " " She must be ; I should like to know her," answered the young man. " She was to have married a young gentleman who died," said Isabel, "and ever since she has devoted herself to doing good to the poor, and the ignorant. When I see what she does, it makes me ashamed that I am sitting here doing nothing." "But, you are doing something, Isabel," rejoined Richard, in a serious tone. " You are a comfort to your father and mother ; and is not our first duty to those of our own household ?" " You are a dear, good boy to say that, Richard," MERCHANT PRINCES. 77 said Mrs. Lamson ; "but I hear the Sisters going, and Israel will expect you in the library.'' As the young man rose to go, Isabel rose also, and putting her arm within his in a playful way, said, "I'm going too ; its some French that Father wants trans lated, and Richard has promised to help me to brush up mine." When they entered the library Mr. Lamson was there and Isabel said to him, " You don't mind my being here, do you, Father? '' " No, my daughter," he answered. " Sit down both of you. Now, Richard, I want to talk a little business with you. I presume you have noticed the Catholic school for training boys for missionary work." " I have, Sir," said Richard. " Isabel pointed it out to me yesterday." " Well," said Mr. Lamson. " I got it up, and Sister Theresa's father and I keep it going." "Indeed, Sir," exclaimed Richard, in surprise. "I thought you were a Protestant." " I attend the English church ; but that does not blind me to the vast amount of good that exists among the Catholics. To my mind Christianity is a life, and not a creed. What a man is, and does, seems to me the only important thing. If I read the Book aright, the KING will say to us, " Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these, my breth ren, ye have done it unto me ! So, I try, to the extent of my means, to do, and in doing I treat all alike, be they Protestant, Catholic, or even Buddhist. One half of all I give away goes to the poor among the Chinese 78 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. through our Compradore, who, by the way, Richard, though a confirmed heathen, is one of the best men I ever knew." " It has struck me that he is a very upright, honorable man," said young Thorndike. " He is more than that he is a genuinely good man ; and yet he has three wives, believes that he talks with his ancestors, and won't do a thing against their advice. But about the school. Its decided success has given me the idea of another one which shall minister to the bodies, as this does to the souls, of these poor people. In it I propose to give the Chinese youth an industrial training to fit them for following some useful trade, after our manner of doing things. I intend that it shall be large enough to grad uate three hundred boys and girls every year ; and you can readily see what a leaven that yearly number will be among their countrymen. Every one that goes out into life will instruct, perhaps, twenty others, and in twenty-five years they will probably civilize the half of this entire region. If such schools were established in all the larger cities, and the plan systematically carried out, they would in fifty years civilize the whole of China. The Chinese are frugal, industrious, temper ate, ingenious.,, and peaceably disposed. They only need to be taught our ways to become a great people, for Christianity would follow in the wake of civiliza tion and without that, no man or nation can arrive at true greatness." " It is a great project, Sir," said the young man ; " but it astonishes me that you, with such a vast busi- MERCHANT PRINCES. 79 ness on your hands, can find time to think of these things." " Well, I can't, and that is why I am opening this subject to you. You have relieved me greatly in the business of the firm, and it has occurred to me that you might like to be interested in some of my outside pro jects." " I should like it exceedingly," said Richard. " You have only to tell me what you would have me do, and I will do it to the utmost of my ability." " I thought you would ; and I know you will find the work agreeable ; for nothing gives us so much pleasure as doing for others especially for the poor and ignorant." He then went on to detail the work to be done the erection of a building, of which he had already devised the plan ; the making of the necessary disbursements; and finally, the general supervision of the school, when it should have been set in operation. When he had concluded, Isabel said to him, " And won't you let me help Richard, Father? I am tired of doing nothing I want to be of some use to somebody." " But what use can you be to Richard you can't look after the workmen," said Mr. Lamson, smil ing. " But, I can help Richard select the scholars when the school is once ready. I know every boy and girl in Hong Kong, and those I don't know, I can find out about. You'll need to be particular who you admit as pupils," said Isabel, earnestly. " That is true," answered her father, " and, Bella, 8O THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. you're a very sensible girl. You can do as you like; only Richard must not be interfered with he must have sole control." " Oh ! we won't quarrel. If he is disposed to, I'll let him have his own way or make him think he has it, which is the same thing with the men folks." Richard laughed, and remarked that there was little danger of disagreement ; and then he asked Mr. Lam- son what provision could be made for teachers of the industrial branches. " That Catholic priest who came in the ' Georgiana Alger ' was sent by Theresa's father to be the general superintendent, and the three men who came with him are to be instructors in the mechanical depart ments. This is not a sudden thing with me. I have been maturing the plan for a couple of years. All you will need to do, will be to take the general oversight to manage the whole. But I think Bella's suggestion a good one. Care will need to be used in selecting pupils, and in that I have no doubt she can help you more than even I could." The young lady's arms were thrown about Mr. Lamson's neck when she said, " Oh, Richard, you don't know what a good father he is you'll have to know him as long as I have to find him out." Before the young man could reply a servant entered and announced, " Mr. Lee Ling." It was the Com- pradore, which term, I may as well here explain, denotes a sort of broker or middle-man between the shipper and the manufacturer he buys of the coun- MERCHANT PRINCES. 8 1 try people in small quantities, the teas and silks which the great merchant ships in cargoes. This man was about forty years of age, of medium height, with broad shoulders, and a square, muscular frame. He had a high, open forehead, intelligent features, and a peculiarly benevolent expression of countenance. He was dressed in the silken robes and cap of a civil offi cial, with, on the apex of his cap, the sapphire ball that indicates one of the higher grades of mandarins for, though Hong Kong was under British rule, it was at that time deemed most promotive of good order among the Chinese population, to select their civil magistrates from among their own countrymen. Mr. Lee Ling spoke English fluently, had travelled exten sively, spent some time in London, and was a man of wealth, and of high consideration among his own people. He transacted business with most of the English and American houses ; but was on terms of especial intimacy with Mr. Lamson, whom he had accompanied from Shanghai to Hong Kong. Isabel's arms were still about her father's neck when the Compradore entered the room. After saluting Mr. Lamson and Richard, he took both her hands in his, and looking at her affectionately, said, "Ah, my pretty lady ! I would give a great deal to have such a child as you to comfort my old age." "How much will you give?" asked Isabel. "Come, Mr. John Chinaman, I'm in the market to be your wife number four." " Well, let me see," he said, as if deliberating the question. " I'll give a hundred thousand Mexicans." 6 82 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. " It isn't enough," responded Bella. " My price is a million." " Well, I'll give the million that is, if your father will lend me the money." " Oh, he'll do that," said the merry girl, " but I must be satisfied with my quarters. You'll let me examine them in advance?" " Most certainly. You know you've promised for a long time to visit my ladies. When will you come ? " "To-morrow just after tiffin that is, if you'll let me bring my new coachman, Mr. Thorndike, into the house." " Assuredly I will, and be very glad to welcome him, and so will be my ladies," said the Compradore. "What do you say, Richard?" said Isabel, resum ing her seat, and her usual manner. " Wouldn't you like to go ? Father can spare you." The young man readily assented access to a Chinese gentleman's house being a privilege seldom accorded to Europeans and it was then arranged that the visit should take place at two o'clock on the following afternoon. Then the conversation turned upon the projected school, in which, as it soon appeared, the Compradore had been interested from its first inception. After a time he remarked to Mr. Lamson, " I have gone into a rough estimate- on this matter, Sir, and I conclude you cannot put up, and furnish the building for less than twenty-five thousand, and it will take another ten thousand to carry the school through the first year. After that it may be partly self-supporting; MERCHANT PRINCES. 83 but during this first year I see that I can't calculate upon my regular fifty thousand." " I shall not curtail you a single Mexican," said Mr. Lamson. "What, Sir!" exclaimed the Compradore, " not when you have a half-dozen other things of this kind on hand ! Ah ! Mr. Thorndike, this gentleman is a prince he'll give away not less than two hundred thousand this year." " Your knowledge on that subject is not very trust worthy, Seignior Ling," said Mr. Lamson. " No one knows how much I expend in that manner, but my self ; but I keep as exact an account of it, as I do of my business. I have always done so. When I first started out in the world, I decided to set aside a cer tain portion of my income for deserving objects, and I have rigidly adhered to that decision ever since, and in all fortunes ; though of late years now that I have more money than I have any possible use for I have increased the percentage, and this year I may run pretty closely up to my income. And the remarka ble thing about it is, Richard, that the more I give, the more I make. Every dollar that I have ever- expended in charity, has been returned to me com pounded and re-compounded. I would advise every young man who wants to succeed in life, to adopt my system." " I would like to know what it is, Sir, " said Richard, " if it is a proper question." " It is simply to lay aside at the end of the year one-fifth of one's earnings, to be expended during the 84 THE LAST OF THE TIIORNDIKES. following year in worthy charities; and to see per sonally that the money reaches the right objects. Though I do not suppose heaven is won by money, or good deeds, I nevertheless believe that God not only loves, but blesses, the cheerful giver. And that, too, is the opinion of our friend here, the Compradore ; though he thinks he will never reach the highest heaven till he has eaten the mundane egg, and solved all the problems of Fohy. Isn't that so, Seignior Ling?" " I will not dispute with a man who gives away two hundred thousand a year, and has a pretty daughter who is willing to sell herself to me for a million," answered the Compradore, rising to take his leave. " I will merely say, Mr. Lamson, that we Chinamen have a heaven of our own, to which we admit no Europeans ; but we will let you in, and give you a place of high honor in our chief pagoda." " That is a good, a very good man," said Mr. Lam- son, when the Chinese gentleman had departed. " I have known him for twenty years, and every day I have seen something in him which a Christian might emulate. We look down upon these heathen ; but the Book says, ' In every nation he that feareth God, and worketh righteousness, is accepted of him.' ' Tiffin (lunch) was no sooner over on the following day, than a servant announced that the carriage was in waiting for " Missy Isabellee." It was the same low-down drag, with the, same Mongolian ponies, and Sing Tow on the forward seat. On this occasion he officiated as coachman, whirling them rapidly through MERCHANT PRINCES. 85 the crowded streets of Victoria, and then out into the suburbs, where, after passing numerous villas of the peculiar Chinese architecture, they drew up at the end of a short half-mile, at one of more spacious dimensions than the others, which was surrounded by a large garden, and enclosed in a wall of stone, high enough to serve as a fortification. The mansion, unlike the others, was also of stone, very massive and substantial. Evidently, the Compradore intended his house to be his castle in case of emergency. Entering a huge iron gateway, the young lady and gentleman passed along a nicely-gravelled walk, and were soon at the doorway of the mansion. Here, on the broad veranda, they were met by the Compradore. He was in his high mandarin robes of dark blue satin, richly embroidered with gold and silver, on his head his official cap, with its long tassel and sapphire button. He received them with genuine cordiality, and, holding out a jewel-faced watch toward Richard, said, " You perceive it is precisely two o'clock. Punctuality is the soul of social life, as well as of bus iness." " I am a business man's daughter, Mr. Chinaman," said Isabel, with a gentle toss of the head, " and this gentleman is my coachman, so, of course, he has my ways." "Oh! of course," rejoined the Compradore, laugh ing, " but he has caught your ways with surprising quickness. I only wish I were twenty years younger. If I were, you wouldn't -have a Yankee for a coach man." 86 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. " What ! " said Isabel, with assumed gravity. " Do you suppose I'd have a John Chinaman like you about me in any capacity ? " " Pardon me if I say," he rejoined, "that it's not exactly the thing for you to turn up your nose at a Chinaman, for you're only a Chinese lady yourself. I know, because I was the first of the male gender to hold you in his arms after you were born. You loved me very much when you were a little thing, Miss Isabel." "And I do yet," she answered in her usual tone; " and I'll love you more if you'll show Mr. Thorndike right in to your ladies. He says he must be back at the counting-room by four o'clock." Without further delay the Compradore led them through a broad hall, and into the reception room of the mansion. It was a large apartment, actually glit tering with splendor. A thick Persian carpet cov ered the floor, the finest of lace curtained the windows, and many-hued brocades festooned the walls, which were colored in the most elaborate fresco. In the centre of this magnificent apartment were grouped the three wives of the Chinaman to receive the visitors. The attire of these ladies was perfectly dazzling, as it shone in the sunlight ablaze with diamonds and emeralds. Wife No. i, a lady a little above the medium height, with a clear olive skin, somewhat obscured by powder and vermilion, was arrayed in a robe of crimson satin, elaborately embroidered, with an over-mantle of blue, studded with jewels. Her head-dress was in the form of a crown, several inches in height, and of gold wire MERCHANT PRINCES. 8? in which rubies, turquoise, and other precious miner als, were interwoven. Pearl pendants of vast cost hung below her chin ; rings of gold, and pearl, and nephritic stone, were in her ears, and on her fingers ; and her hair, drawn up in a peculiar knot at the back of her head, was secured by a lily, altogether of diamonds. This lady was seated in a high-backed chair, covered with brocade, whose foliage and flamers were gold and silver. The other wives were standing. Their cos tumes were only a trifle less elaborate than the gor geous attire of their senior in marital rank. Their underdress was of blue satin, clinging closely to their forms and beautifully embroidered ; the overdress of a deep orange, covered with costly laces. Being of the Manchu race, their complexions were a shade browner than the clear skin of wife No. I, who was a pure Mongolian. As the principal lady rose to greet her unaccus tomed visitors, they saw that her feet were scarcely three inches in length, and that, as a consequence, she would be unable to walk, and her gait would be a very awkward one. She motioned them to seats, and then took part in a conversation conducted in English. The principal subject was the projected school, and her remarks indicated a good deal of intelligence. During the entire interview the inferior wives contin ued standing, and merely silent listeners. They were, after all, only of an upper class of servants, whose duty was to the mistress of the household ; but the younger of the two who seemed of not more than twenty 88 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. years was of a beauty that was dazzling to the Amer ican gentleman. The interview had lasted some ten minutes, when Isabel tiring, perhaps, of its conventional stiffness expressed a desire to see the Compradore's garden, which, she said, she had heard spoken of as a marvel of beauty. A formal farewell being then taken of the Chinese ladies, the Compradore conducted his visitors through the grounds attached to the mansion. They were a bewildering labyrinth of summer houses, artifi cial lakes, grotesque bridges, bubbling fountains, deep grottos, and arbors of grape, groves of lemon, orange, and citron, and long avenues of oak ; and, more won derful to the visitors than all else, gateways, temples, castles, pagodas, as well as lions, dragons, and all man ner of animals, formed of live and growing trees, which the admirable art of these people enables them to fashion into the semblance of any conceivable object. Pausing before a striking group, Richard said to the Compradore, "You Chinese are a wonder ful people : this is in advance of anything to be seen in Europe or America." '"It probably is different," answered the Chinaman, " unless it has been imported there from China. I saw nothing like it in Europe, except in the garden of Mr. Alger, a few miles out of London. He has not so great a variety as I have , but one thing he has that is more curious, the full name of his wife Georgiana Alger formed from a running evergreen." " I didn't know that he had a wife," said Isabel, in a tone that was intended to conceal her surprise. MERCHANT PRINCES. 89 " Oh, yes," answered the Compradore ; " he has a lovely wife, and a beautiful little daughter of about nine years. I was their guest for a fortnight, and we became very good friends. Mrs. Alger sent me their photographs by the ship that brought Mr. Alger." " Indeed. I would dearly like to see them," said Isabel. " Won't you show them to us ? " " Certainly, I will," replied the Chinaman. " Amuse yourselves here for a few moments, and I will bring them to you." When the Compradore had gone to the mansion, Isabel motioned Richard to a rustic seat near by, and as he took it, said to him, " The ways of men are not past finding out. Please, Richard, give particular heed to what the Compradore may say ; and I will tell you something singular when we are alone to gether." In a few moments the Compradore returned with the pictures. They were photographs, but colored with such exquisite art as to seem paintings upon ivory. The face of the lady at once riveted Isabel's atten tion. The features were regular and refined, the nose straight and well formed, the nostrils thin and flexible, and the lips sensitive, displaying a strongly impres sionable nature. The forehead was broad, and shaded by heavy masses of dark brown hair, brushed plainly back so as to disclose small, shell-like ears. But the eyes were what fixed Isabel's gaze. They were large i and dark, and through them looked a soul that seemed to have been crushed by some irretrievable calamity ; and yet, underneath their despair was a faint gleam of 90 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. hope, like that in the eyes of the Magdalen when she turns her gaze upward to Heaven. This indescribable look had overspread the whole face, so that its prevail ing expression was one of deep sorrow, blended with an uplifting hope uplifting because resting on the HIGH INVISIBLE. The face of the child was like that of the mother. It had the same delicate and regular features, wavy, abundant hair, and sensitive mouth and nostrils; but over it all was a joyous, innocent, and yet proud expression that gave promise of much char acter. Such a face would mature into remarkable beauty. After studying the lady's face attentively, Isabel handed the picture to Richard, saying, " Look at it closely, and then tell me what you think of it." In a few moments he said, " That lady has known some great sorrow she has a history." " And a sad one, Richard," responded Isabel. "Her face says plainer than any words, 'A broken and a contrite heart, O God, thou wilt not despise.' She grieves for something that she thinks was sin ; and yet, she trusts she has received forgiveness. And underneath it all, is a soul as pure and clear as the sunlight." Then turning to the Compradore, she asked, " Do you know anything of this lady's history? Did her face always wear this expression? " " It always wore that expression there was a set tled sadness about her always but I know nothing of her history. I only know that she was about the gentlest, kindest, most lovable person, I ever knew ; and on several occasions she talked with me on relig- MERCHANT PRINCES. 91 ious subjects in a way to almost make me a Chris tian." " She would be a worker of miracles had she done that," said Isabel. " But come, Richard, we must go if you would be at the counting-house by four o'clock." As they rode along on their way home, Isabel said in alow tone, to Richard, "Do you know, Rich ard, that the photograph of that lady helps me to solve a mystery that, to my mind, has always hung about Mr. Alger? He has constantly a furtive look, as if always on his guard against something, and an impenetrability that allows one to see only a little way into his real nature. He is not like you, open and clear as the light ; but dark and secret, and let any one attempt to look into him, he will come very soon against a thick wall, beyond which he cannot go. That lady has gone beyond that wall, into the Blue Beard chamber, and the result to her has been a life time affliction. Ever since my early girlhood he has been very kind and attentive to me ; but I have always felt for him an unconquerable aversion. The feeling has been .instinctive. I have tried to reason myself out of it ; but it would not be reasoned with. I have not known the cause, but now I surmise it to be that something which his wife has discovered to her constant sorrow. I would not be unjust to any one, but I am sure that he is a very bad man." " I have not even met him," said Richard, "and so am not able to form an opinion, good or bad. I only know that he is well spoken of. But, Isabel, is it not 92 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. unsafe to let our feelings control our judgments of other people ?" " I am not now governed by my feelings," replied Isabel. " He has for ten years had a wife and child ; and yet, Richard, he has had the perfidy to seek me in marriage. When he went away about two years ago, he asked my father to permit him to solicit me to be his wife when he should return to China : and he was good enough to say that he would always allow me to remain with my parents that is, he hoped to have one wife in Europe, and another in China. I have told you this, Richard, that you may not think me unjust ; but let it be between us two for the pres ent." " Unjust, Isabel ! " exclaimed the young man. " He is a consummate villain ; not fit to associate with respectable men." " I knew you would think so," she said, " but what shall I do, Richard ? If I tell Father, he will forbid him the house, and have no further relations with him ; but if I let him come to see me, I shall have a chance to implore him to remove the sorrow from the heart of that poor lady. Advise me what to do." " By all means tell your father, at once, Isabel," said the young man. " Never keep anything from him. He will probably forbid Mr. Alger the house ; but I think he will be sure to remind him of his duties to his wife. But, be frank with your father, whatever the consequences." Accordingly, Isabel recounted the disclosure of the Compradore to Mr. Lamson, as soon as she returned to MERCHANT PRINCES. 93 the mansion, saying in conclusion, "You know, Father, I would never have married him, under any circumstances ; but I do want you to say something to him that will help his poor, unhappy wife." The result of this disclosure was that when Mr. Alger called in the evening, he was shown directly into Mr. Lamson's office. They were closeted together for half an hour, and Mr. Alger went away without again asking for the ladies of the house hold. Soon afterwards Mr. Lamson joined the family in the library, and detailed to them the inter view. Mr. Alger had admitted that the London lady passed in society as his wife, and that her child was his child ; but he assured Mr. Lamson that she was not his wife, they having never been legally mar ried. The connection, he said, was one of the errors of his youth, and he had resolved to sever it the moment he decided two years and more before to make proposals of marriage to Miss Isabel. This had been his principal object in going at that time to Europe. He seemed to look upon the relation as no offence against gentlemanly morals, and was surprised when Mr. Lamson took an opposite view of the matter. These statements that gentleman met with the pertinent remark, "Yet, on arriving in London you resumed marital relations with that lady, and you continued them down to your departure for this coun try. Moreover, you came here in a new ship named in her honor, thus advertising her as your wife to the whole Chinese empire. How do you explain these things ?" 94 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. Mr. Alger did not attempt to explain them. He merely denied all but the patent fact as to the ship, and demanded to know Mr. Lamson's authority. This Mr. Lamson declined to give, adding, " It is useless to say any more on this subject ; but Mr. Alger, I am an older man than you are, and let me advise you, for your future peace of mind, to return at once to London, and repair the wrong you have done that lady by making her your legal wife. Until I know that you have done that, I shall decline to receive you as a visitor in my house, and to hold any relations with you whatever." When he had concluded, Mr. Lamson said to young Thorndike, " It is fortunate, Richard, that we have learned of this in time to annul that joint trans action to London with Alger, Timpson & Co. Please see that none of the teas are shipped by the ' Georgiana Alger.' ' o o "None shall be, sir," said Richard; "but I had intended to send two hundred chests on board to-mor row." " And, Father, you might not have known of this in time, but for Richard," said Isabel, earnestly. " He insisted upon my telling you at once. I thought of delaying, that I might implore Mr. Alger to deal kindly by that poor lady. Whether she is his wife or not, I know she is as pure as an angel. He has in some way deceived her, and thus made her his victim." Mr. Lamson looked approvingly at Richard, but made no remark ; and the conversation soon turned upon other subjects. MERCHANT PRINCES. 95 The princely merchant did not return at once to Europe ; but, following the example of Mr. Lamson, we may here decline any further relations with him, for, as a man in the body, he has no further connec tion with this history. However, the deeds that men do live after them, and hence, I shall, farther on this volume, have occasion to note some of the results of his transgressions. We may not lift the veil between this life and that other one ; but if, as we know, effect everywhere follows cause, we must conclude that the reflections of that man when he came to himself, and saw the consequences of his crime, were not of a char acter to be very much envied. CHAPTER VII. NEWS FROM AMERICA. YOUNG THORNDIKE had at this time been in China something more than half-a-year, and by every incom ing vessel, he had received letters from his' affianced ; but now a full month went away and brought no tid ings from her whatever, though in the meanwhile two ships had arrived from New York. Still, as she would not naturally forward letters by that roundabout route, their non-reception caused him no anxiety. But, at the close of another month one of the firm's own ships arrived direct from Boston, and in her mail- bag was nothing for him whatever. This gave him much concern. Something must have happened. What could it be ? Mr. Lamson observed the young man's anxiety, and in the evening, when the family had gathered together as usual in the library, he looked up from the pile of Boston papers he was examining, and said to him, " Richard, you had no letters by the ' Persia ? ' ' " None whatever, sir, I fear something has hap pened." "No doubt there is some deviltry afoot," said Mr. Lamson. " This is the way I reason about it. NEWS FROM AMERICA. 97 First, the young woman is true to you. If she stood so faithfully by your uncle, she will stand by you. Second, she is not sick. If she were, she would have some of her friends write to you ; and third, she is not dead. I have looked carefully through these file? of the Transcript and Daily Advertiser, and there is no mention of her, either among the deaths or accidents. My conclusion is that her friends have intercepted her letters, and probably yours. What did you tell me about her mother ? " " That she is a woman of very decided character, and very much opposed to our marriage. But she regards her word, and she promised, that, so long as I was away, she would not mention my name to her daughter, nor force upon her any other young man's attentions." " But she didn't say that she would not intercept your letters, and so attempt to break up the connec tion altogether. She has done that ; but the game won't work. Henshaw will balk it. Your letter to him will explain all to the young lady, and she will be only the more eager to come to you. So, keep up good heart. She will be here by the ' Cleopatra.' ' These encouraging words did much to sustain the spirits of the young man, still he could not shake off a vague apprehension of evil. It hung about him, an impalpable thing, the foreshadowing of some impend ing calamity. Weeks again went by, and ship after ship came in, but still they brought Richard no word from his af fianced. At length another of Lamson & Co.'s vessels 98 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. arrived with no letters for him, but a full file of Bos ton newspapers. Richard had no time to look at them during the day, but Mr. Lamson had, and when, a little late, the young man came in to dinner, the good gentleman said to him in a jubilant tone, " Dick, my boy, I have solved the mystery." " Have you, sir ! " exclaimed Richard, not pausing to sit down. "Yes. Hear this," and taking up the Boston Adver tiser, which lay beside him on the table, he read as follows : " The Boston ship ' Penguin ' which arrived at New York yesterday, 156 days from Hong Kong, reports having encountered a very severe gale off the Cape of Good Hope, in which the ship ' John Adams/ also of this port, foundered with all onboard. The ship ' Hope ' of New York, was also in company with the ' Penguin/ and caught in the same storm, but rode it out, much damaged, but in safety. We regret to add that among the lost on the 'John Adams/ was Mr. Richard Thorndike, nephew of the late Robert Thorndike, Esq., and grandson of the Hon. Timothy Thorndike, formerly of Dorchester. He was a young man of great promise, going out to China to engage in commercial pursuits, and his un timely death will be sincerely deplored by his numer ous friends and acquaintance." " And all this time Charlotte has thought me dead ! " exclaimed Richard. "The 'Penguin' mistook the ' Hope/ which did go down, for the ' John Adams.' ' "That is it; and that explains the whole," said Mr. Lamson. " Her mother intercepted Charlotte's let- NEWS FROM AMERICA. 99 ters to you, before the news arrived of your death ; and then, of course, Charlotte stopped writing. Your first letters from here showed the mother that you were alive, but she kept the knowledge from her daughter." "Could she have had the heart to do that?" said Richard, taking his seat at the table "to let Char lotte think I was lost, when she had in her hand proof that I was living ! " "Heart!" echoed Mr. Lamson. "Some women have hearts harder than the nether millstone. I am not sure but it would have been well for you, if she had been on board the Hope." "I say so, too, Father! " exclaimed Isabel, "and if I were there, I'd make tiffin of her in a twinkling." " No, my dear, not tiffin," said Mr. Lamson, laugh ing. "She would do better for breakfast chopped fine, and served as minced-meat, with buttered toast and onions. But, Richard, all this was righted long ago. It is a pity the poor girl has been made to suf fer ; but Henshaw has explained it before now. She will be all the more sure to come by the 'Cleopatra.' " " How soon can we look for the ship, Sir? " " Within a couple of months three at the latest. So, keep up good heart. This short anxiety will make both of you only the more glad to meet." " Yes, Richard," said Mrs. Lamson, " I am sure it will all come right." " And you know the course of true love never did run smooth," said Isabel, archly. " But, I am sure I 100 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. wouldn't have let my true love go 15,000 miles from me." " Not if you had one, my dear," said Mr. Lamson. " I sha'n't ' pine away and die ' for the want of one, Father," she answered. " I might, you know, catch one like Mr. Alger ; so, I shall join the Sisters, have Richard for a brother, and spend his money for him that is, so much of it as he bestows on the poor and needy." The knowledge of the unfortunate mistake respect ing the "John Adams," revived the spirits of the young man, and again he went about his work with his usual buoyant energy. Heretofore he had devoted himself closely to business, declining all invitations to go into the excellent English and American society of Hong Kong ; but now, as a means of diverting his mind from the gloomy apprehensions that frequently assailed him, he accompanied Isabel out often of even ings, and upon rides during the day, in which he saw something of the hundred thousand and more people of all nations, who are hemmed in upon that small rock in the China sea. Thus the winter wore away, and Spring came, bring ing with it that delicious blending of summer and Indian summer, which is peculiar to the south of China. On a Sunday of this season the young man was seated with the family on the veranda of the mansion, which looked down upon the city of Victoria, and far out over the China sea. A score of great ves sels were moored at the docks, or anchored in the road stead, and several more tall mountains of snow were NEWS FROM AMERICA. IOI beating in the light breeze, slowly up the bay. Scarcely a breath of air was stirring ; but in from the garden came the fragrance of many groves of orange, citron, and pomegranate, and unnumbered flowers. All nature was at rest in a Sabbath stillness sleeping in splendor and beauty. The various members of the family had been at a social gathering on the previous night, and all showed the natural effects of coming home somewhat late in the morning. Each one wore a look of fatigue, but Isabel especially. She had evidently had but little sleep. Richard noticed this, and said that it was not well to retire so far into the small hours. " It is not that," she answered. " I am sorry 1 went to sleep at all." "What is it? my daughter," asked Mr. Lamson. " You really do not look well," "I've had a wretched dream, Father," she answered. " I thought I was drowned, and it has somehow taken a strong hold of me." "A dream!" said her mother, " I wouldn't be dis turbed by a dream, Bella." " I can't help it, Mother. It was so vivid as to seem real. It seems real to me yet. Richard, do you believe in dreams? " " Not in all dreams," he answered. " Some are produced by traceable natural causes. But, if we credit the Bible, we must believe that some are given to us for guidance, and forewarning. What was your dream ? " "I thought," she said, "that I was bathing in the 102 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. sea, with you, and father and mother, and a great crowd of other people. I got out beyond the surf into deep water, and there, all alone, was a young woman I had never seen before. Suddenly I was taken with dizziness, and thought I was about to sink. I called to you to come to my help, and then I saw that the strange young lady seemed to be sink ing, too. You came, as I thought, towards me ; but you passed directly by me, and went to her. You looked where I was, but didn't seem to see me ; and I called again, but you didn't seem to hear. You went straight to her, took her in your arms, and carried her ashore." "Well, what became of you ?" asked her father. " Why, I knew I was lost ; and the shock woke me up." " And you found it all a dream ! " said Richard. " The young woman would have to be very beautiful, Isabel, to tempt me to pass you by when in danger." " She zvas more beautiful than any one I ever saw/' she said. " I didn't blame you for passing me she was so lovely." " You are good at description, Bella," said her father, pleasantly. "Won't you give us her por trait ? " " I can't, Father," she answered. " I never saw such peculiar beauty. She was neither blonde nor brunette. And her beauty was more in expression than in feature. Her hair was a deep auburn, tinged with gold ; her eyes were neither gray nor brown, but a shade between a kind of deep hazel and they NEWS FROM AMERICA. IO3 actually blazed with soft light. But, Richard," she exclaimed, pausing in her description, and look ing intently at him, "what is the matter with you?" " Nothing, that I am aware of," he answered, in a careless tone. " But something must be," she persisted. " You are as pale as a ghost." He was pale. He recognized the likeness, and the thought arose within him, " What is the meaning of this?" But he simply said, " I feel a trifle chilly I'll move my chair from before the window." " No, I'll close it," said Isabel, rising. As she did so Sing Tow, regardless of decorum, rushed up to the veranda, crying out, "Hi! the Clipperlee ! the Clipperlee ! " pointing with his hand out to sea. All sprang at once to their feet, Mr. Lamson saying, "In what direction is she, Sing? Bring me my glass." The Chinaman had doubtless been using the instru ment, for he produced it at once, at the same time pointing to what, to unaided vision seemed a mere speck on the eastern horizon, saying, " It ese the Clipperlee. Melican lady comee." Mr. Lamson took a long observation, then handing the instrument to Isabel, he said, " I think it is the Clipper. But, Bella, look you know every spar she carries." Isabel gazed for a moment through the glass, then handed it to Richard, saying, " I haven't a doubt it is the 'Cleopatra,' Father; but what do you think, Richard ? " 104 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. He saw the tall, tapering masts of a large clipper- ship, her hull half down, about twenty miles out at sea. She was under a heavy press of canvas, and tacking to catch every breath of the light breeze, but bearing as directly for port as the wind would permit. " I cannot speak positively," he said. " She appears to me very much like the ' Cleopatra.' ' He handed the glass back to Isabel, who now took a longer observation. After a few moments she said, " It is the ' Cleopatra.' She has a yellow belt along her side, and I can just make it out a faint dingy line, scarcely thicker than a cambric needle. It is the ' Cleopatra.' Sing, get up the Arabians, and the barouche." "You need not be in such haste," said her father. " With this wind, it will be three or four hours before she is at the dock." " But, Richard and I will board her in the offing. You don't suppose we can wait four hours ? " " Let Richard go alone, Bella," said her mother. "Why should you go? It is not entirely safe." "Safe!" echoed the young lady. "It is safe enough, and I want to be the first to welcome Miss Wilder to China." " Let her have her own way, my dear," said Mr. Lamson. " Sing, put the horses to, directly." In less than half an hour the entire party drew up on the long pier, where the ' Cleopatra ' was expected ; and then Sing was dispatched in pursuit of a small boat. He could find only a simple cockle-shell, with two oars, and one uncushioned seat. NEWS FROM AMERICA. IO5 " You must not go in such a thing as that, Bella," said her father. " There is a heavy swell outside. It really is not safe." " If it's safe for Richard, it's safe for me," answered the resolute young woman ; and soon they were speeding over the blue water with a rolling, but rapid motion. In the blazing sun the sea was all one mol ten mass of rippling silver, which, as the oars dipped and rose, fell about them in drops glittering like diamonds. " How beautiful it is," said Richard, watching the falling brilliants. " Yes, beautiful," replied Isabel, in an absent way, much unlike her usual manner. " Why, what is the matter, Bella?" asked Richard. " There is no danger. I wouldn't have let you come if there had been." " I'm not afraid," she answered. " I was only think ing what if that strange young woman should prove, to be Miss Wilder ! If so, I shall be drowned before we get back. Tell me, Richard, what kind of eyes has she ? " " Hazel, very large and dark." "And, what kind of hair?" " Neither brown nor auburn, but very brilliant." " And it is gathered in a knot behind, and falls in loose ripples over her neck and shoulders ? " The young man made no reply, and she said quickly, " Ah ! you recognize her ! You did when I told my dream." " I did, Bella," he answered. " I do not know what IO6 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. this means ; but with you I can have no concealment. You shall judge for yourself," and he took from an inside pocket of his waistcoat the small locket which Charlotte had given him, and handed it to her. She gazed at it fixedly for a moment, then ex claimed, " It is she ! I should know her among a million. Ah ! Richard, it is no wonder that you love her." She covered her face with her hands for a moment, as if to keep out the sunlight. When she looked at him again her eyes were moist, though she had not been weeping. She evidently was using great strength of will to control her emotions. She soon spoke. " Richard," she said, "I don't know what this means, or how it will end. It doesn't seem to me that I shall die; but I know some terrible thing is to happen. Tell me, Richard, have I ever been unkind to you, or wounded you ?" " You never have, Bella. No sister could be kinder to me than you always are." " I have tried to be no, I have not tried it has come natural. And whatever happens, you will always love me as if I were your sister? " "Always, Bella, you are, and always shall be my dear sister." " Well ; that is all I want. Let us say no more now : we are near the ship." Captain Craig was on the quarter-deck, and, recog nizing them, removed his hat, and waved his hand in salutation. A rope was thrown to them, the ladder was lowered, and then, assisting Isabel up the side, NEWS FROM AMERICA. lO/ Richard bounded upon the deck. The Captain greeted Isabel, whom he had known from her infancy, with great cordiality, but towards Richard, who was a prospective partner in the commercial house he had served for twenty years, his manner was cool, if not actually brusque. The young man restrained himself for a moment, then said, somewhat imperiously, " Captain, be good enough to take me to your lady passenger." " Sir," he answered, his manner changing to one of much embarrassment. " She could she has not come, Sir. But, there are letters for you in the cabin. Please to step this way, Sir." " Not come ! " cried Richard. " Why not, Sir ? " " The letters will tell you, Sir," said Captain Craig. " Be good enough to step this way." Her womanly intuitions sharpened by her feelings, Isabel saw in the manner of the Captain the foreshad owing of the calamity she anticipated. Putting her hand hastily but firmly upon Richard's arm, she said in a low tone, " It has come, Richard ; the unknown trouble, but control yourself. If the world comes to an end I will stand by you." He heard like one in a dream, and like one in a dream, he walked aft into the cabin. The letters were on the cabin table, and with a trembling hand the captain handed them to him. Richard noticed the captain's extreme embarrassment, and took in its meaning. He knew the tidings the letters contained, and had not the heart to tell him. There were but two letters, both with the superscription of Henshaw. 108 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. He tore open the one that lay nearest to his hand, and an enclosure dropped from it to the floor of the cabin. He read : " My dear Richard It pains me greatly to tell you that the report in my last is confirmed by the enclosed letter, which I have just received from Mr. Cravan. No words of mine " He read no more. Isabel was at his side, and had picked up the fallen letter. Instinctively divining what he would have, she handed it to him. " Be cool, Richard," she said, " be cool. Whatever it is, be a man." He opened the letter slowly, deliberately, as if resolved that a weak girl should not be stronger than he. His eye skipped the first paragraph, and, as if lured by some secret attraction, fell upon the second : " I greatly regret to inform you that Miss Charlotte Wilder died about six weeks ago. She was taken alarmingly ill on the receipt of Here the paper fell from his hand, he staggered a step or two forward, then fell into a chair, not fainting or insensible, but stunned and nerveless, like one who has received a heavy blow upon the head. " Quick, Captain ! quick. Brandy ! " cried Isabel. The stricken man knew all that passed ; but he could not move or speak. A vise-like grip held him powerless. Isabel put the flask to his lips, opened his waistcoat, and loosened his neck-tie, saying while she did so, " Open the skylight, Captain. Give him more air. He is suffocating." The Captain did as he was bidden, and the young man revived slightly. The vise-like grip relaxed a NEWS FROM AMERICA. . 109 little, but only a little. " Now, take some more brandy, Richard," said Isabel. " Don't fear : it won't intoxicate you." "Hadn't I better call the doctor, Miss Isabel?" asked the Captain. " No, no ! " she said. " Keep them all away. I know what to do. Keep them all away. And, Cap tain, get out your best boat, and best crew. Tell them they shall have twenty Mexicans, if they put us ashore in an hour." As the Captain left the cabin she threw her arms about Richard, and moaned out, " My poor, poor boy! to come here for this! My poor, poor Richard ! I could gladly die if it would bring her back to you." The brandy had now unloosed his tongue, and he answered, feebly, " Nothing can bring her back, dear Bella. She is dead. I must die too." " Don't speak so, dear Richard," she said, drawing him more closely to her. " We can't have you die. We love you so. Father, and Mother, and all and I, too, Richard. I love you. It would kill me, if you were to die." "You are a dear, good girl, Bella too good," and here his head sank down upon the arm of the chair, and the tears came. Seeing this Isabel knelt down by his side, drew his head upon her shoulder, and said, " That is right, Richard. Cry cry as hard -as you can. It will do you good. I will keep them all away. Nobody shall see you." His tears flowed freely, and they relieved him ; but in a short while the vise-like grip came again upon 1 10 THE LAST OF THE THORXDIKES. him. Then Isabel offered him more of the brandy, but he motioned it away. "Take it, dear Richard." she said. " Take it to please me. It will make you strong enough to start home." As he took it he said, " I want to get home I want your mother." "You shall have her, soon. She will be at the quay waiting for us." The Captain now entered the cabin, saying, " The boat is lowered, Miss Isabel. We are ready, when you are." Supported by Isabel and Captain Craig, Richard staggered to the ship's gangway. Then the grip relaxed its hold, a sudden faintness came over him, and he would have fallen to the deck had they not held him up by main force. Isabel gave him more brandy, and then three strong men lifted him over the ship's side, and into the boat. What fol lowed he was able, to recall only indistinctly, but he remembered that he sat in the stern of the boat, Isabel holding his head upon her knees ; and that, when he was lifted into the carriage to be driven home, Mrs. Lamson took his head upon her lap, called him her " dear, dear boy," and kept her arms about him all the way to the mansion. CHAPTER VIII. STRANGE EXPERIENCES. YOUNG THORNDIKE'S next recollection was of the following day. It was not far from noon, and he was lying on his own bed, in his own chamber. Mr. Lam- son, his wife, daughter, and a physician whom he knew, were standing beside his bed. He was fully conscious, but could neither move his limbs, nor open his eyes. The same grip he had experienced in the ship's cabin was still upon him. His soul was free, but his body was enchained. He heard the physician say, " It is a. severe attack, but the worst feature is that he has no soul, in him. His nervous system has had so severe a shock that he is mentally paralyzed. If you can wake up his mind excite in him a desire to live his vigorous constitution will bring him through." "Oh! will he never come to himself?" asked a voice which he recognized as Isabel's. " Yes, he'll awake soon," said the medical man. " This stupor is merely the effect of the opiates I gave him yesterday ; but the fever must run its course. I will come twice a day, but a good nurse will do more for him than medicine. Do you know of one ? " 112 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. " We will nurse him ourselves," said Isabel. " No one would do as well, as we will." " He will need constant watching, night and day," said the Doctor, " and the least unfavorable turn must be reported to me instantly. Above all things, arouse his mind. He told me yesterday that he didn't want to live, and would not live. He was probably not conscious of what he said, but it shows his deep-seated feeling. He must be got out of that. He will have lucid intervals when you can talk with him freely. Then get him in love with life. Remind him of what he has to live for. Most men with his prospects would want to live a century." " You may think me superstitious, Doctor," said Mr. Lamson, " but I have strong faith in prayer. I know some good women will it do for them to come here, and pray for him?" "You mean the Sisters. Certainly. Let them come. Only tell them what he most needs to be reconciled to life. If they can bring him into that mood, it will be of more service than their prayers." The sick man dozed off once more, and did not wake again until after dark. The gas was burning low, but in the dim light he could distinguish a group of kneeling figures around his bed. Two were on either side of it, and one at the foot, forming thus, with himself, an elongated circle, of which he was the apex, the figure at the foot, the base. He could not make out her features, but the soft, musical voice, could, he thought, be none other than Sister There sa's. She was praying, and as she prayed, the gas STRANGE EXPERIENCES. 113 went out, the room disappeared, and he could see nothing but the kneeling figures about his bed, all enveloped in a blaze of light which issued from each one, and streamed upward till the rays blended together, and were absorbed in a more brilliant flame overhead. This light fell full upon the uplifted face of the praying woman and such a face he had never beheld. It was like those that his boyish dreams had pictured of the angels. In it were faith, hope, aspira tion, all fused into a burning love, which appeared to wing her words upward. Soon a warm glow suffused his frame, a strange life coursed along his veins, and something, he knew not what, seemed to draw him up and out of himself into a higher and purer atmos phere. A strong yearning seized upon him, and heed less of the praying woman, his feelings broke forth in the words familiar to him from childhood, but never felt till then " Nearer, my God, to thee, Nearer to thee ! E'en though it be a cross That raiseth me." Then he seemed to be lifted up from his bed, and held in the air above it ; and looking down he saw the Sister rise from her knees, and raise her hands aloft, as she said, " Dear Lord, we thank thee that thou hast bid him live may it be to thy glory." In another instant the scene vanished, and opening his eyes he beheld again the accustomed room, the gas burning low, and the draped figures standing around 114 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. the bed on which he was lying. Then all this passed away, and he sank into a slumber into which neither sight nor sound entered. When he awoke again the gas was burning more brightly, and the clock was striking for midnight. Sing Tow lay at one side of the room, asleep on a lounge, and Isabel was sitting under the gas burner, reading some open letters. He seemed to have regained the usual control over himself, and he spoke to her. " Bella," he said. She sprang to her feet, and was at his bedside in an instant. " What is it, Richard?" she asked. "Kiss rne, dear," he said to her. She bent down, and pressed her lips to his forehead. Then he said, " You are so kind, Bella. I know it all. You have been here every moment since I was brought home." "Yes, and shall stay, dear, until you are better," she answered, laying her hand upon his forehead. " The Doctor says you will be sick some days ; but you have less fever already. But, never fear I shall not leave you." " But you must, Bella. It will wear you out," he said. " Oh ! no, it will not," she answered ; " But, Richard, don't talk any more now. It will fatigue you." " What if it does ? " he said, reaching out, and tak ing her hand. " What is there left for me now, Bella? You know I expected her, and she didn't come ; but you can't know what she was to me. I never had father or mother they died before I can remem- STRANGE EXPERIENCES. 115 ber; and she and I grew up from little children together. I was a good deal to her ; but she was all to me, and more than all, since my poor uncle died. All my hopes, present and future, were centred in her, Bella. And to lose her in one moment just when I was expecting to be so happy with her ! Oh ! it is too too hard ! And you don't know, Bella ! I am all alone, there is now not one human being of my blood in all the world." " You are not alone, dear Richard. You are not alone. You have us. We all love you." " I know you do, and I love you, and am grateful for your love," he said, " and I would like to live, Bella, if it would grieve you to have me die." " Grieve us, Richard ! " she answered, earnestly. " It would break our hearts it would break my heart. I wanted her to come, and make you happy ; for she could make you happier than we can. But, Richard, you know you have promised to be always my brother; and how can you be, if you die?" Still holding her hand in his, he closed his eyes, and lay for some minutes without speaking. When he again turned his face towards her, he said gently, " I do not deserve to be so loved. I should be ungrateful not to wish to live to make some return for all the kindness I have had from your father, and mother, and, more than all from you, Bella." She pressed his hand warmly in both of hers, as she said, softly, " Oh ! Richard, you make me so, so happy." At this moment the door noiselessly opened, and Il6 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. Mrs. Lamson entered the apartment. Isabel was the first to perceive her, and looking up smilingly in her face, she said, " Oh, Mother, Richard wants to live he wants to live for us, Mother ! " " You are a dear, good boy," said the older lady, taking her daughter's place by his side. " Until now God has denied 'me a son ; but now you will be my son, and I will be your mother." Tears came into the young man's eyes as he said, " And I have felt that I was all alone, when I had such a mother, and such a sister! God, I know, will bless you for all your goodness to me." "Don't talk any more now, dear," said Mrs. Lam- son. "You must be quiet. I fear this strong emotion will harm you." " It won't a bit, Mother," he said, " I am growing stronger every moment. Hadn't you better send Sing away, and let Bella go to her room. She has been up two nights now, and it will wear her out." "She can't sleep, and neither can I," said Mrs. Lamson. " And is it well to leave you alone ? You are threatened with a serious illness." " Oh ! no, I'm not. The Doctor is mistaken. I had a hard blow on the head. It knocked me senseless, and caused a slight fever. But now my brain has begun to act, and I shall be up to-morrow." " The Lord be thanked," said the good woman, her eyes filling with tears, " and you will be our own dear boy again. I will go at once and tell my husband." " No, don't," he said, " Let him sleep. It will be several hours to daybreak. But go yourself, and get STRANGE EXPERIENCES. 1 1/ some rest." Then drawing her down to him, he kissed her tenderly, saying as he did so, " And from this moment you are my mother, and I am your son?" " I am your mother, and you are my son," she repeated, solemnly. And it was so, as long as they both did live. Then Mrs. Lamson left the room, and Isabel, rous ing Sing Tow, sent him off to his bed ; but, turning down the gas slightly, she resumed her seat under the burner, and sat there in silence. It was not long before Mr. Lamson, his clothing hastily thrown upon him, entered the apartment. Taking the young man firmly, but quietly, by the hand, his face beaming with delight, he said, "Ah! Richard, I thought you would pull through ; but I am glad to know the crisis is over. It is prayer that has saved you ; and could that poor girl have had such help, she might be with you now. I have no doubt that she was smitten just as you were." The young man made no reply for a few moments the thoughts the words evoked were too painful. Then he said, " Have you such faith in the power of prayer, Sir? " " I have, Richard. In all important crises in my life it has been my safeguard. Nobody would take me for a godly man ; but I keep at least one of the Apos tle's injunctions 'pray without ceasing.' ' " Ah ! Sir, I wish I were as good a man as you are. I every day see in you something to emulate." "Good! Richard," exclaimed Mr. Lamson, " I give Il8 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. away a little money, and aim at doing justly by all ; but don't take me for an example. If I had my life to live over, I could vastly improve it. But, we won't talk any more now. You need sleep to get back your strength." " I will try to sleep," said Richard, lowering his voice, "and, Sir, don't you think Bella needs it? I have spoken to her about it, and don't like to speak again lest she should misunderstand me." Mr. Lamson then told his daughter that she ought to take some rest, and in a few moments they left the room together. For a long time the young man lay awake, absorbed in his reflections. His entire life passed as a living panorama before him. He saw his happy past, his desolate present, his hopeless future for what hope in this life could there be for him, when the only two he had ever loved were lying in their graves, the width of the world away ? And those two were they still alive, and somewhere loving and longing for him, as he for them ? or, while their bodies were mouldering back to dust, had their spirits, in like manner, been resolved into the finer elements from which they came, to be again the common air, breathed alike by man and the crawling reptile? And that future world in which men believed had it any existence? If it had, what was it? Illimitable space? "Space which is not space, time that is not time?" a formless, measure less, incomprehensible, inconceivable realm of eternal silence ? For this, he thought, was the future life in which most men believed this, or a never-ending STRANGE EXPERIENCES. 119 camp-meeting, an eternal chorus of praise to one who died some two thousand years ago a good man, no doubt, but a weak, suffering human being, like them selves. In either faith what was there to comfort or support a soul just bereaved of all it had loved on the earth ? Tired at length with these thoughts, he turned his eyes toward the window, and looked out upon the night, where the stars were shining in the clear sky, and the moon was riding aloft in radiant beauty. And then he thought that if this world man's brief abiding-place is so beautiful, must not that other world, which is to be his eternal home, be far more beautiful? For man must be immortal. There is that in him which longs for continued, unending life, and it cannot be that any longing of the soul will go unsatisfied. In all nature it is not so. The plant asks for the light, and the sun rises ; it faints for food, and the dew comes, and the rain falls ; and if senseless things receive their desires, shall not man, who is the crown of all nature ? So there must be for him a future life of unending joy and unfading beauty, where the soul shall know, and forever possess, those it has loved and lost on the earth. Thinking these thoughts the young man's head sank once more upon his pillow, and then, in an instant, the gaslight went out again, the stars disap peared, and an afternoon sun came streaming in at the window. But it was not his accustomed room. Strange paper was on the walls, a worn carpet on the floor, and old-fashioned furniture crowded the 120 THE LAST OF THE THORN DIKl->. small apartment. And stranger still, at a low table in the centre of the room, a woman was seated, with a large dog asleep at her feet. Her face was turned away from him, but he could see that she was bending over some open letters, which were spread before her on the table. She was dressed in black, and thick streaks of white interlaced her heavy auburn hair. "Who can she be?" he asked himself, "and what is this mountain country, which in this spring-time is arrayed in the foliage of autumn ? " Moving nearer to her, he looked over her shoulder at the letters she was reading. They were worn, and faded by time and much handling, and on one was the deep stain of a full, heavy tear. In her right hand she held a small miniature, which she 1 gazed at long and fixedly. She clasped it to her bosom, and trem bled, trembled unrestrainedly, as does the magnetic needle when an electric cloud is passing through the air. Why is this? Though she is looking another way, does she feel his presence ? Now, she turns -her face toward him, and he sees that her eyes are hollow, her cheek is pallid, her hair untimely gray. It cannot be, and yet it is ! It is his own Charlotte, and the letters she is reading are his own letters. He holds out his arms to her, and utters a wild cry. " Charlotte," he says. " Come to me, my Charlotte ! " She does not heed him, and again, louder and more passion ately, he calls, " Charlotte ! Come to me, Charlotte ! " At that instant the door of his room was thrown quickly open and Isabel rushed to his bedside. " What is it, Richard ? " she asked. " What is it, dear ? " STRANGE EXPERIENCES. 121 He looked at her, and instantly the strange scene vanished, and he was in his own room again. "She was here but a moment ago," he said, "and now she is gone. It was Charlotte, but oh ! so altered, Bella." " Poor, dear boy ! " she said, passing her hand across his forehead. " Poor, poor boy ! She was not here, dear Richard." "But she was, Bella, as real as you are. She was, here reading my letters, with Ponto curled up at her feet." " Oh ! no, Richard, I know that nobody has entered the room," she answered. " But, lie down now, and let me sit here, and read to you. It will divert your mind. A little of the fever has come back." He lay silent for a few moments, pondering the vision ; then he said, " It is strange, very strange. I have not left my bed, and she cannot have come here can it be that my mind is wandering ? But, tell me Bella. How is it that you heard me call her? How happened you to be so near ? " "You wouldn't let me stay in your room, Richard," she said, " so I placed a chair in the hall, and waited there. I couldn't leave you alone." " It was very good of you, Bella," he answered, " but I don't need watching, and the air must be chilly in the hall." " Then let me stay here. I am so anxious about you that I shall not sleep, if I do go to my room. I will read to you from a new book of Tennyson's that Captain Craig has brought me." 122 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. "You are a dear, good girl," he said, "and I shall have to do as your father does let you have your own way." " Thank you, dear." Saying this, she turned up the gas, drew a chair near his bedside, and read to him from one of the elegies in " In Memoriam," a book which had very recently appeared in Europe and America. He listened attentively, and soon, like her, he became absorbed in the subject. Except to make some brief comment on the poem, neither spoke for a full hour. Then she suddenly looked up from her reading and said to him, "Richard, why do the dead come back? Why do they not rest quietly in their graves?" " The world has many mysteries we cannot solve, Bella; but are we sure they do come back? " " I do not know," she said. " The Compradore thinks so. He says he talks with them as I am talk ing with you. And that is the belief of a great many of the more intelligent Chinese. They have regular rooms in their temples for holding intercourse with the dead. That, I suppose, is why we say they wor ship their ancestors." " The Chinese are naturally superstitious ; and though the Compradore is a man of clear, well-balanced mind, and strong common sense, he has the Chinese superstition in his blood. Nothing but my own expe rience would convince me of it; and yet, very many of the great men of our own race have believed it Soc rates, Shakespeare, Milton, Wesley, Dr. Doddridge, and many others. I would like to know it to be true." I wouldn't," she said, impulsively. " This world is STRANGE EXPERIENCES. 123 enough for me. I want to love and be loved here ; not to live among the clouds not even to be as good as Sister Theresa. With father, and mother, and you to love me, Richard, I am content." " But if we were to die, what then ? " he asked, smil ing. " Then I should want to go to you then I should think of the other world, day and night." "And if you found Charlotte with me there," he asked, in a gentle tone, " would not that make you unhappy? " " No, for she has a better right to you than I a wife is more than a sister. I should be glad she was there, and I should love you just the same. My love for you could not be true, if I did not wish all the world to love you as I do." " You are a dear, sweet girl, Bella," he said, looking at her tenderly. " Your very presence in the room is a pleasure to me, and it gives me strength. While you have been sitting by me, I have felt the old life coming back." " Then you will let me come as often as I please come and breakfast with you." "Yes, darling, I will be glad to have you." " Then, I will go now. You see the light is break ing. I will fix myself up a little, and then get yo.ur breakfast, and bring it to you." Saying this she now left the room. With the aid of Sing Tow the young man soon afterwards rose, and dressed himself, and when break fast was brought in, he sat down to it with Isabel, 124 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. looking, except for a slight pallor, very much as usual, Before the meal was fairly over, Mr. Lamson entered the room. "Ah! Dick," he said, "I am glad to see you up. With a few days quiet, you will be yourself again." " Yes, sir," said the young man, " I hope to get to the office by to-morrow. You must be very busy with the ' Cleopatra.'" " Not very," answered Mr. Lamson. " Captain Craig has volunteered to do a large share of your work ; and I have decided to load the clipper with the teas and silks we intended for London ; so the cargo is all prepared, and you will not be needed. You had better keep quiet for a week. But, those letters from Henshaw what does he say ? " " He has not read them yet, Father, I have kept them till he should be strong enough. Here they are," said Isabel, drawing the two letters from her bosom. "Won't you read them, Bella?" asked Richard, moving back his chair, as a servant entered to clear away the breakfast things. Seating herself upon the lounge, Isabel then read the letters in the order of their dates. The first said that on the receipt of Richard's letter, Mr. Henshaw had gone to the home of Mrs. Wilder, in Dorchester; but had found the house closed, with "To Let," upon a post at the gateway. By inquiring in the neighborhood, he learned that the family had, some months before, removed to Western Massachusetts. He learned also, that previous to the removal, Charlotte had been seriously ill for several weeks, and it was understood that the family had STRANGE EXPERIENCES. 12$ gone away, to give her the benefit of the mountain air of Berkshire County. A vague rumor was afloat that the invalid had since died ; but he could trace it to no reliable authority. However, he learned defi nitely that the widow had been married to Mr. John Cravan, her late husband's executor. He went at once to Mr. Cravan's place of business in Boston, but was told there that Cravan had some two months pre viously removed to New York. Obtaining his address, he had written to him, and he hoped to get his reply in time to forward it by the " Cleopatra." If he did not, he should himself proceed to Berkshire County, and obtain definite information. The letter closed by expressing the earnest hope that his next, which would accompany it, would convey more welcome tidings. His second letter was briefer than the first. It said that the enclosure which he had just received from Mr. Cravan, unhappily confirmed the melancholy rumor he had mentioned ; and this was followed by such expressions of sympathy and regret as were nat ural to a warm-hearted friend in the circumstances. Cravan's letter was as follows : No. 17 BROADWAY, NEW YORK, August 8, 1850. " Mr. CHARLES HENSHAW, " Long Wharf, Boston, Mass. " Dear Sir : Your valued favor of 6th instant, making inquiry in regard to Miss Charlotte Wilder on behalf of Mr. Richard Thorndike, came to hand by yesterday's mail ; but I have deferred a reply to con- 126 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. fer with the young lady's mother, not knowing but she might have some special message to send to that young gentleman, whom we have so long supposed to be dead. "I greatly regret to inform you that Miss Wilder died about six weeks ago. She was seized with an alarming illness on the receipt of the news of Mr. Thorndike's loss at sea, and for several weeks hung between life and death. However, she at length ral lied enough to be conveyed to Berkshire County, where it was hoped that the change of air would bene fit her. But it did not. She sank into a rapid decline, and soon passed quietly and peacefully away. I deeply sympathize with young Mr. Thorndike in his loss ; and how great that loss is, only those can appre ciate who have known Miss Wilder, and loved her, as we have. "'Mrs. Wilder now my wife who is with me as I write, begs to be kindly remembered to yourself and Mrs. Henshaw. "I enclose a draft for $1,000, forwarded by Mr. Thorndike to Miss Wilder, by the last China mail, which please return to him. " I am, dear sir, " Yours very truly, "JOHN CRAVAN." The young man heard the letters read without apparent emotion, and when Isabel had concluded, said to Mr. Lamson, " Do you know, Sir, that I have a vague feeling that Charlotte is alive? Do you not STRANGE EXPERIENCES. I2/ observe that Cravan deferred replying to Mr. Hen- shaw's simple question, till he had conferred with Charlotte's mother? He knew very well that she would have no message to send to me, and she sends none, not even the condolence that is natural in such circumstances. Is not the reason he gives for his delay a mere subterfuge ? Are they not deceiving us ? and did he not want Mrs. Wilder present to help him, with her keen intellect, to concoct the deception skil fully ? " "The thought hadn't occurred to me, Richard," said Mr. Lamson, " but it looks so. Bella, please to let me see Mr. Cravan's letter." While he was reading it through carefully, the young man said, " And another thing, Sir, has im pressed me strangely. You may think me supersti tious, but I must tell you. I had a strange experience last night it was not a dream, for I was fully awake." Then he went on to detail his vision, and at the close Mr. Lamson said, " And you say that she was in a mountain country like Berkshire, and that the time of the year was autumn several months after the date they have given for her death. This all may have some other meaning ; but we must have Hen- shaw thoroughly investigate the matter when the ' Cleopatra ' returns to Boston. We can't get word to him till then. Meanwhile, Richard, tell at once the vision to Sister Theresa. She may be able to explain it, for she has had many such experiences. She will be here this morning to learn how you are." CHAPTER IX. SISTER THERESA. FOR a couple of hours after Mr. Lamson had left the room the young man sat, reclined in a high- backed chair, while Isabel read to him from the new volume of Tennyson. They were thus engaged when the two Sisters were ushered into the apartment. Isabel paused in her reading, and Richard rose to greet them ; but the elder Sister said, quickly, " Do not rise, Sir. Pray keep your seat. But, you are not looking so ill as we expected to see you." " No, Madam," he answered, " I am not seriously ill. But, please be seated. I am very glad you have come." As the two took the seats which Isabel drew for ward, Richard glanced hastily at their appearance. They wore the usual sombre garb of the Sisterhood, and about the older one there was nothing striking or peculiar. But the younger would have anywhere arrested attention. She was, perhaps, thirty years of age, with a slight figure, and regular, delicate features ; but it was not these that struck one as extraordinary. It was her large, serene eyes, filled with a soft, spirit ual light, and a certain rapt, far-away expression, that at once attracted the beholder. When they were SISTER THERESA. 1 29 seated she was the first to speak. " We felt sure you would get well," she said, " but you are recovering more rapidly than we anticipated." " Yes, Madam," he answered, " I am gaining strength surprisingly fast. I attribute it to Miss Isabel. She has been with me most of the night, and I have felt her simple presence giving me strength, but more especially, the holding of her hand in mine." "Yes, "she said, "the magnetism of a true, pure woman is powerfully life-giving ; and in your very sen sitive condition you have felt it strongly." " And can you tell me why, and how, this is ? " he asked. " Because she is all purity and truth, and those ele ments, with that of love, are the most potent forces in the universe. We all have about us an atmosphere which is the emanation of our inmost being. You feel, and inhale, that of Isabel when she is in the room, but when she touches your hand, it flows into your nature directly." " Then my being with him has done him no harm," said Isabel. "Often I have felt the impulse to hold his hand, but have refrained, fearing it might not be maidenly." " Don't let that deter you, my dear," said the Sister. "Sit beside her now, Mr. Thorndike, and hold her hand, while Sister Mary and I draw our chairs nearer to you. The experiment will test what you may con sider only a fanciful theory." The assigned positions being taken, the conversa tion proceeded. " I have wanted to see you, Madam," 9 130 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. said Richard, " to relate to you some singular experi ences I had during the night. Mr. Lamson has sug gested that you might give me some explanation of them." The Sister having expressed a desire to hear, the young man went on to relate the two visions he had experienced, asking at the close what explanation she could give of them. " The explanation is very simple," she said, " your spiritual sight has been opened, and you have seen into the spiritual world that is everywhere about us. There has happened to you what happened to the servant of Elesius, when the prophet prayed and said, ' Lord, open his eyes, that he may see. And the Lord opened the eyes of the servant, and he saw, and behold the mountain was full of horses, and chariots of fire round about Elesius.' Such experiences are not uncommon to spiritually-minded people." " But, I saw you two, and Isabel, and Mr. and Mrs. Lamson, in the bodies you have now, though a radiant light seemed to flow from you." " Exactly," she answered, " you saw us in our spir itual bodies: just as the disciples saw our Lord, when he was with Moses and Elias on the mount. It is usual to say that he was transfigured ; but it was not so. There was no change in Him ; it was all in them. The whole context of the three accounts shows that. The sleep the disciples were in was the magnetic sleep. In that state their spiritual eyes were opened, and they saw the Lord, as he was spiritually. The closing of their spiritual sight seemed to them like a cloud pass- SISTER THERESA. 131 ing over them so it always seems to me, and so it probably did to you." "It did seem so," he answered, "and I remember that through it all my eyes were closed. When I opened them, I saw you and the others as you appear naturally. But, I felt something drawing me irresist ibly upward. In fact, I thought I was actually lifted from the bed. How do you explain that ? " "Our Lord says that ' If two of you shall consent upon earth, concerning anything whatsoever they shall ask, it shall be done to them by my Father who is in heaven.' It is not that He cannot answer the prayers of an individual for He does that times with out number every day but that the harmonious ask ing of more than one opens a readier avenue for his life-giving power. It is simply a spiritual law, and spiritual laws are as inflexible as natural laws. Even our Lord when on the earth obeyed them He required faith confidence in his power to heal because it opened the door by which his living efflu ence could flow in, and heal the suffering. You lacked vital force were dying of inanition were already dead in your will. We gathered about you and earnestly prayed the Lord Jesus to give you of his life, to raise you from the dead, as he did Lazarus, and return you to us, and to the world. Our very souls went up in our words, and they brought the angels down to our help ; and then our life and theirs all of which is from the Lord flowed into your veins, and with such power that you were uplifted, drawn, as it were, out of yourself, and nearer to God. 132 THE LAST OF THE TIIORNDIKES. It was they, not we, who drew you upward ; but it was our life, blended with their life, that saved you alive." Similar cases to this of yours were common in the Apostle's times. You will find instances of, and allu sions to, such cures all through the Epistles ; and Saint James says distinctly that " The prayer of faith shall save the sick." And the life-giving power of other's magnetism is often referred to in the Bible. You remember the case of David in his old age and the young maiden ; and an instance where this power acted without express prayer, was when Saint Paul was stoned, cast out of the city, and left for dead. It is said that the disciples gathered about him, and directly he rose upon his feet, and went his way. It is not reported that they uttered one word. Doubt less it was the yearning love and pity which flowed out from them, that infused their life into his veins. And such cases are common now. Wherever there are pure hearts, faith, and sincere love of our Lord, there is this power. It is a spiritual law, and it exists every where and always. It is God's mode of action His nature, just as it is our nature to do things in certain ways, and not in others. And to obtain results we must conform to God's laws, for He is Law itself." " And did you see the angels ? " he asked. " No, I saw their light it was so dazzling I could not see their forms and the moment I beheld it I knew you would be saved." '' I saw that confidence in your face," he said, "which shone like the sun. These things are won derful to me. If I could experience them in my wak- SISTER THERESA. 133 ing senses, I should never again have doubts as I sometimes do of a life after death." " If one has not the open vision," she answered, " the only sure proof his reason can have of another life, is the word of our Lord ; but we have his prom ise that if any man will do his will, he shall 'know of the doctrine.' That evidence the saints have had in all ages, and it has sustained them at the stake, and on the scaffold. And it is a proof that is within the reach of all." Then looking at him for a moment, she added, " If you can believe your own eyes, I will now give you ocular evidence that it was our, and the angels', inflowing life that drew you back from the brink of the grave." Rising then she went to the mantel-shelf, and taking from it a small mirror, resumed her seat, and held it before him. " Look," she said, " and tell me if you do not appear as you did before you were sick." He saw the red glow of health upon his cheeks, and that his eyes had resumed their natural brilliancy ; and this he admitted to Sister Theresa. " And yet," she said, " when we came into the room your eyes were dull, and your face had the pallid hue of one just over a dangerous illness." '.' Have you not felt the loss of the life-force you have given to me ? " he asked. "Not at all," she answered; "and Isabel should have received new strength, for where there is actual contact the meeting of the two currents creates an other force, which gives new life to both. How do you feel, Miss Isabel? " 134 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. "Very buoyant," she answered, "just as if I had taken a single glass of wine. I shouldn't mind if I had to hold his hand all day." " Hold it as long as you like, dear," said the Sister. " In doing good to others, we do good to ourselves. It is the universal law, both in things natural and things spiritual. We are all members of one body, linked to one another by invisible chains. Among good people the link is love, and it is that which holds the spiritual universe together, just as its analogue attraction, holds the natural creation. It was our love for you, going up in aspiration to our Lord, that drew the angels down. They could not have resisted its influence without doing violence to their natures." " Will you not let me ask you now," said the young man, " the meaning of the other vision? " " If the young lady were not dead," answered the Sister, " I should say it was simply clairvoyance, which differs from spiritual sight only in being gener ally confined. to natural objects. In that state the natural senses are asleep the room, and what was in it, faded, you say, from your sight but the percep tions of the spirit are exceedingly active and acute. The mind is freed from the trammels of the body, and time and space become as nothing to it. It sees distant objects as if they were present just as you thought yourself in that room, when you were fifteen thousand miles away ; and as Swedenborg so distinctly saw as to minutely describe during its progress, a fire occurring in Stockholm, when he was as far distant as Germany. It has been observed in all countries and SISTER THERESA. 135 ages of the world ; and Apuleius, a Latin author who wrote in the second century, speaks of it as common in his day, and accurately describes it. It gives us some faint conception of the powers we shall possess when our souls are liberated from our natural bodies. In us this power is fitful and abnormal ; but in our Lord it was entirely normal, and coincident with his natural senses, as were spirit sight, and all the other spiritual senses and perceptions. It was by it that he saw Nathaniel when under the fig-tree ; discerned from among ten thousand fishes the one with the stater in its mouth ; witnessed the recovery of the nobleman's servant when he was fourteen miles away ; and, more strikingly, when he beheld beforehand the destruction of Jerusalem, his eye piercing through all the complications and contingencies of coming events for forty years, and seeing the terrible catastrophe in all its details the city encompassed with armies, and hemmed in on every side ; the trench that was dug about it ; the temple with not one stone left upon another ; and the Jewish people falling by the edge of the sword, and carried away captive among all na tions. " The opening of your spiritual eyes," she continued, " so that you saw us who were about you, as spirits, shows that you were in a condition bordering on the clairvoyant state ; the only argument against your having seen the young lady as she was, alive and on earth, is the report that she is dead. I should ques tion her death, unless I had positive and reliable evidence of it. The only other explanation of the 136 THE LAST OF THE TIIORNDIKES. occurrence that I can give, is that spirits have the power to make imaginary scenes, existing in their minds, appear to us as realities. It is possible that they showed you a vision of the young woman as she was just before she died, that you might know that her thoughts were absorbingly fixed upon you to the very last. It is possible that she died from grief over your loss." " It was so, Richard. She is dead ! " said Mr. Lam- son, who had entered the room while the Sister was speaking. " I have found a notice of her death in both the Boston Transcript, and Advertiser. It was not in the death column, but among the editorials, and for that reason I have overlooked it till now." The young man buried his face in his hands, and sat for some moments without speaking. The last faint hope, which had for a moment dawned upon him, had gone out forever. The Sister was the first to speak. " You have been sorely stricken, my dear friend," she said, " and no words of ours will avail to comfort you. But do you not, while you mourn a human love, forget the love of our Lord, who all your life has carried you in his arms, and sheltered you in his bosom ? Your human love has been taken from you, and you are desolate. You would not be so, had your supreme affection been set on Him. No human love, had you it in pos session, would fill your soul. Mrs. Browning is right in saying: ' Nor man nor nature satisfy Whom only God created.' " SISTER THERESA. 137 " I know what your belief is, Madam," said Richard, in a most kindly tone, " but I have been educated in a faith which has taught me that Christ can help me no more and not so much as my dear friends here, Mr. and Mrs. Lamson, and Isabel." " I understand," she answered " you have been taught that Christ was a mere man, that the gospel histories are myths, and the miracles, impossible things. I know it all, for I was myself brought up in that faith ; and I lived in that land of ice, and snow, and desolation, till I was a woman grown. Then one day a heavy blow crushed me to the earth, as you have been crushed. For long I lay there stunned, and in the darkness. Then a faint gleam of light broke in upon me, and following it, I came out to where the sun is shining on a day that never sets. And you will find that light, if you follow it as I did. And when you have found it, all human love will be swallowed up in the Divine Love. Then you will see that Jesus -whom you now esteem only a man is in reality the one and only being who is worthy of the supreme de votion of the soul. You will not love your lost one the less, but you will love Him the more, and He will lead you at the last to where she more loving and beautiful than your mind can picture will be yours forever." After a few moment's pause, as if from a natural hesitation to unbosom himself to a stranger, the young man said, " I have been engrossed in the affairs of life, Madam, but I have not been altogether unmindful of my Creator. I recognize my accountability to Him, 138 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. and am convinced that the character I form here will remain with me in the Hereafter, and will decide my condition and surroundings there. But with my present views, I should be guilty of idolatry if I accorded any more honor to Jesus than to Siddhartha, Confucius, Socrates, Marcus Aurelius, and a few other great and good men who have lived in the world." "You are that young man in the Gospels," she said, " who ' had kept all these things from his youth up,' but was told that in one thing he was wanting. Had that been yours, you would not have felt as you have, the loss of a mere earthly object. That ' one thing ' is a true knowledge of Christ. I would not obtrude my views upon you ; but they have given me comfort, and they may do the like for you." " I shall welcome any light you can give me on this important subject," he answered. " If I know myself, I am ready to accept the truth, whatever it is, and however much it may conflict with my present opin ions." " Before I give you my views," she said, "allow me to ask you for yours. In what light do you regard the Gospels ? " " I think they have a basis of fact," replied the young man. " I believe that such a man as Jesus lived and died in Palestine, during the reign of Tibe rius Caesar. I have no doubt that he led a pure and spotless life was a genuinely good man, and that he said many remarkable things, some of which were new, and some not new; and that, according to the custom with teachers in his time he gathered about SISTER THERESA. 139 him a body of disciples, who, on account of his amia ble character, became devotedly attached to him. I think that these disciples, in their great sorrow over his untimely death, when their minds, sensitive from grief, would eagerly catch at the slightest hope that he was again alive, did imagine that they saw him risen from the dead, and perhaps did actually see him thus though about this my mind is not clear. But if they did see him after his death, it was as a spirit as other dead men have been seen, and, as Mr. Lamson tells me, you and the Compradore see and converse with them almost daily. I think, too, that this fact, coupled with his perfect life, convinced the disciples that Jesus was a supernatural being, and that, fully believing this, and that he was a messenger from God, they went out and preached everywhere" his moral max ims, and the world received them ; for it was conscious of being in a state of moral putrefaction, and gladly welcomed any medicine that gave promise of restoring it to a healthy life. But the first disciples preached simply the words of Christ, not the doctrines of your church that He is God, and that faith in him is essen tial to salvation. Such ideas were the growth of after- years, and were not fully moulded into a system until the Council of Nice, in the year 325, when Christianity had become the national religion, and Constantine saw the necessity of some formula by which to secure its being understood, and generally accepted, by the Roman people. Then Christ was erected into the Supreme Being, and that, and the legend of miracles, gave the new faith unresisted sway. These facts are, 1 4 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. I think, clearly established by Church history, and by Lardner, Paley, and Norton, in their " Evidences of Christianity." And, according to my reading, they are the only facts that are clearly established. A good and greatly-gifted man who was an honor to the race, was the skeleton which was galvanized into the sem blance of life, and clothed with an unnatural and in comprehensible body of divinity. The man was the noblest creation of God, the body of divinity was one of the most pestilent inventions of man, of a priest hood you will pardon me if I say it whom history shows to have been as false, self-seeking, and corrupt, as any body of men that ever afflicted the earth." As she listened to this onslaught upon what to her was dearer than life, the eyes of Sister Theresa gleamed with delight the sort of delight which the soldier feels when he meets " a foeman worthy of his steel." As the young man paused, she quickly said, " Go on. I am attending closely to what you say. I will not speak a word till you are through. But yes I will ask you one or two questions. What do you think of the miracles of Jesus ? " " That, admitting the Gospels to be genuine, we have for them only the word of ignorant men, totally incompetent to judge of evidence, and whose testi mony, on such a subject, would not now-a-days, be accepted by any body of men, even by those unac quainted with science. The so-called miracles were performed among an ignorant and credulous people, believers in diabolic and angelic agencies, and were SISTER THERESA. 14! never subjected to any intelligent investigation. Moreover, they are in flat contradiction to all that we now know of the laws of nature." "One more question," she said, "and 1 am done. How do you account for the existence of the Gospels in their present form ? " " Their germ was the teaching of Jesus. His words, I take it, were repeated at first orally by the original disciples, and as exactly as they could recall them ; subsequently, when their proselytes became too nu merous to be reached by their personal te'aching, they were reduced to writing. In this way I should account for the remarkable agreement in the maxims and parables of Christ as they are given by the first three Gospels. As Christianity spread, the distant converts naturally desired to know something of the life of their Master. To meet this desire, the first disciples, and those immediately succeeding them, wrote out narratives of his career told what they had seen and heard of him stating, no doubt, many facts, but infusing into them all the supernatural element, which they had come to believe in from the fact that they, or others, supposed they had seen Jesus risen from the dead. For fifteen hundred years the clergy have preached the Resurrection as the central fact of Christianity, and in that I think they have been right, for belief in it as a supposed miracle, was, no doubt, that which created all the other miracles ; and faith in its miracles was what gave Christianity its prevalence in that superstitious and unscientific age. But, if your eyes and those of the Compradore are to 142 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. be trusted, the Resurrection is simply a natural event, common to all men, and occurring whenever a man lays off his earthly body. I sincerely hope this may be true, for if it is, I am sure that I shall some day meet and possess my own. But, to go back to the Gospels. In the way that I have mentioned I con ceive them to have grown belief in a supernatural man being the germ, and one miracle being added to another, by honest but ignorant disciples, during the progress of about a hundred and fifty years, till, towards the close of the second century, the Gospels were too widely diffused to admit of any further accretions, and had become, as it were, stereotyped in the form in which we have them now. These are some of my reasons for thinking that the Gospels are not a true account of the life of Jesus." " The view you present is very plausible," said the Sister, " but before I attempt to fully refute it, allow me to point out a few errors into which you have fallen. I shall not defend the priesthood, but merely remark that they are now, and always have been, merely men, some of them saints, some sinners. Nor, shall I say more than a word about the Church, which has formed the body of divinity, that you regard as unnatural and incomprehensible. The church con sists of two bodies, one visible, the other invisible. The visible church is a human organization, and it is necessary to the preservation and promulgation of Christian truth ; but it contains both good and bad, being the field our Lord speaks of that brought forth both wheat and cockle, and of which he says, ' Suffer SISTER THERESA. 143 both to grow together till the harvest.' The invisible church is the true Church of Christ. It is composed only of His true followers, and it includes them all, of whatever sect, or race, or nation. By them only should Christianity be judged, and the lamentable truth is, that as they have always been the minority, they have never been the controlling element in the visible church. " I will notice," she continued, " one or two errors of yours which I deem of more importance. You say that the disciples were ignorant men, incompetent to give testimony to a miracle. Did it require much knowledge, or intelligence, to decide that one who had been blind, had received his sight ; that one they knew to be dead, was alive again ; and that they saw Jesus walking on the sea, when, a moment later, he entered their boat, and went with them to the shore ? You also say that the miracles were never subjected to any intelligent investigation. You forget that the case of the man born blind was fully investigated by the Sanhedrin, the supreme national tribunal of the Jews, composed of seventy-one of the most intelligent men in the nation ; and that they utterly failed to overthrow the man's simple statement, ' I know, that whereas I was blind, now I see.' Also, you forget that this same Sanhedrin was so thoroughly convinced of the raising of Lazarus, that, on account of it, they sought to put Jesus to death, and Lazarus also, lest the fact, getting abroad among the people, should lead to a general belief that Jesus was the expected Christ, and thus incite an insurrection against the Romans, 144 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. which would result, as Caiaphas said, in their coming to ' take away both our place (office) and nation.' They did not question the reality of what Jesus did ; they expressly said, ' This man doth many miracles.' They probably, like many of the Pharisees, attributed them to the power of Satan ; but they opposed Jesus because the influence which his miracles was having upon the people, endangered, they thought, their hold on official power. To your assertion that the miracles attributed to Jesus are in flat contradiction to all that we now know of the laws of nature, I will at present merely oppose the declaration of Jesus that they were in entire harmony with those laws, and that it was impossible, even for Him, to do anything in opposi tion to what we call the order of nature. He said with decided emphasis : ' The Son cannot do anything of himself, but what he seeth the Father doing; for what things soever he doth, these the Son also doth in like manner.' Your theory in regard to the man ner in which the written Gospels were first formed may be true, and may not be. I think, however, that the many quotations from them in the writings of the early Fathers, are good evidence of their ex istence in their present form before the close of the First Century. After that time, and perhaps before, they were so widely diffused among the many churches throughout the Roman Empire, that it would have been impossible to alter, or add to them. But a bet ter answer to this ' mythical theory,' is the Gospels themselves, their consistence, coherence, harmony, and completeness, from which nothing can be taken SISTER THERESA. 145 away, and to which nothing can be added, without destroying the wonderful symmetry and beauty of the whole. It is this view of the Gospels, and of the Christ whom they disclose, which has convinced me of their entire and absolute truth ; and I think it will have the same effect upon you, for you have an open, and truth-loving nature. And let me add, that I am surprised at the patient thought, and wide reading which your remarks display. Let the truth once be seen, and a mind like yours will embrace it, and when you once embrace it, what a power for good you will become ! The thought of it rejoices my heart." " And to think of it, Sister Theresa ! " exclaimed Isabel. " Richard has been brought up in a. counting- house, and is not yet twenty-one." " No, and will not be till the day after to-morrow ! " said Mr. Lamson, laughing. " But, Bella dear, let us hear how the Sister will refute Richard's theory." " I cannot fully refute it in a moment," remarked Sister Theresa. "The subject is too large to be briefly handled, and I fear that, in the young man's weak condition, it may tire him too much. Had it not better be postponed to another occasion? " "No, Madam; go on, if you please," said Richard. " You will not fatigue me I feel stronger than when you began." " That being so," said Mr. Lamson, " I would like to hear your reasons for the faith that is in you, Sister Theresa. So, please go on." " I shall need an English Bible, Isabel. Will you 146 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. please get me one. I carry with me only the Douay version," said the Sister. Isabel went from the room, and soon returned with a small Bible, handing which to the Sister, she resumed her seat by the side of Richard, taking, as she did so, his hand again in hers, and unconsciously fondling it, while her mind was absorbed in what the Sister was saying. This little action probably escaped the obser vation of all in the room except Sister Theresa, and her glance seemed to betray that she regarded it with a blended feeling of fear and approbation. CHAPTER X. THERESA'S REASON FOR HER FAITH. " YOUR acquaintance with general literature," said Sister Theresa to the young man, "will, no doubt, enable you to tell me why it is that Shakespeare, by universal consent, is accounted the most transcendent genius the world has known." "It is because of his marvellous power of creation, coupled with his wonderful insight, and immense range of vision. He had other remarkable qualities, but these he possessed in a supereminent degree. He created men and women, endowed them with every mental and moral quality, placed them in every pos sible condition of life, and made them act upon one another in every conceivable way, and yet, always so naturally and consistently that they all appear to us as living persons, whom we recognize as distinctly as we do those we meet every day. By his remarkable insight he entered into his characters became them for the time being and by his broad vision he ' glanced from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven,' and took in the whole range of created things." "Then," she remarked, "the creation of a natural character is the highest effort of genius ? " 148 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. " I think it has always been so considered," he answered. "But, even Shakespeare never created a perfect man?" " No, Shakespeare painted from life, and no perfect character ever existed. " "And he never undertook to portray a character both human and divine a divine being acting in human life, and subject to all the wants, woes, and limitations of humanity ; absolutely human, and yet essentially divine ; from whom in his hours of extremest trial, when he was borne down to the utter most by our human woe, there should stream forth some of the splendor of divinity?" " No, for it is beyond human power. We cannot conceive of that which is altogether above and beyond ourselves. For this reason our conceptions of God are vague, shadowy, and unsubstantial, though we know that He exists because He has impressed His mental and moral attributes upon the creation. It is because we cannot conceive of what is above and beyond ourselves, that all unenlightened peoples have invested the Deity with human qualities." " Exactly," she answered. " But did it never occur to you that the writers of the four Gospels undertook to do that impossible thing to show a divine being acting as a man in human life?" "No; for I have not regarded Jesus as a divine being." "But," she answered, opening the little Bible she held in her hand, " on the very threshold of their THERESA S REASON FOR HER FAITH. 149 narratives, the Gospel writers distinctly assert that He was. The first three style him the Christ, and the Son of God, the fourth is even more explicit, saying that He was God, though to mark a distinction between Him and the Infinite, All-pervading Spirit, it adds that he was ' with God.' ' " Even if those men wrote those words," replied Richard, " they did not mean to them what they do to us. They had very limited conceptions of the greatness of the Creator, and the vastness of the material universe. However, I conceive all that por tion of the Gospels to have been subsequently incor porated by the priesthood, to give the new religion authority with the people." " The men of the time when, you say, the Gospels were written, understood the magnitude of the solar system nearly as well as we do, and the Gospel histo rians distinctly say that Christ created and governs all things. But I am not now asking you to believe that the immediate disciples of Jesus wrote the Gospels. To the inquiry I am making it is altogether immate rial when, or where, or by whom, they were written. I only ask you to admit that the books now exist, and that they make this claim for Jesus that He was the Christ a messenger from God and that He sustains the same relation to the Infinite Spirit, which a son does to a human father." " It cannot, of course, be denied," he answered, " that the present Gospels make that claim." "If they do," she went on, "then they undertake to delineate a Divine Being acting as a man among men, 150 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. to do which naturally and consistently you admit to be a thing impossible unless a living original was before them. I do not now say that He was a Divine Being. I merely say that they assert that He was, and I ask you to look at the picture they have drawn of Him. Of course, you know that they nowhere draw his full- length portrait. They simply exhibit Him allow him to speak and act for himself. But from his say ings and doings, and from scattered and incidental allusions in the narratives, we can construct a picture of Him more vivid and life-like, I think, than can be formed of any other character in history. And now from these Gospels that I hold in my hand, I will inquire what they say of Jesus. I will ask them, ' What manner of man do you affirm that he was ? What did He do ? What did He teach? What was his mental and moral stature, arid what his life object the work He set before himself to do in the world ? ' ' " In other words," he remarked, " you propose to analyze the character of Christ, as we now find it depicted in the Gospels? " " Exactly," she answered, " and I merely ask you to admit that it is there ; and I shall be much mis taken if, when these narratives are subjected to a close and patient analysis, you do not find a new light break from them, and in that light see a Being pecu liar, grand, amazing the only altogether original and perfect character that is told of in history. And what will strike you, I think, as quite as remarkable you will find this character set in a background of THERESA S REASON FOR HER FAITH. 151 events, strange, and wonderful, and unlike any ever recorded, but into which this man fits like cause to effect, so that we cannot conceive of the man without the events, nor of the events without the man. In this new light you will see the entire and absolute truth of the Gospel narratives that a Divine Being has actually come to the Earth ; but not in a blaze of glory that should astound the universe. That might excite the wonder, but it could not compel the love of mankind. So, He came as a man, lived and died as a man, and in a manner that must inevitably must ' draw all men unto Him,' when they shall have pon dered his life, and beheld the amazing grandeur, and beauty of his character. " If a Divine Being were to become a man, we should naturally expect that he would differ from all other men, for however fully he might assume our nature, there would still be in him a divine principle, which would lift him above humanity. And so we find that the Christ of the Gospels differs from all other great and good men of whom there is any record in history. This unlikeness runs through his entire mental and moral nature ; and it extends to even such unimportant traits as speech, manner, and outward aspect. These unimportant traits are alluded to by all his biographers, and they have struck me forcibly as indicating clearly that each one of them drew from a living original. I will mention some of them, not to prove that He was divine, but to exhibit His human side, and show his striking originality, and individuality. I$2 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. " From his presentation in the temple we learn that his body was perfect in form, and without natu ral blemish ; but we elsewhere observe that it was far too feeble for the mighty spirit it contained. This we see from his sitting weary by the well, while his disci ples could go and return for food ; by his sleeping undisturbed through a perilous storm ; by his sinking exhausted under the weight of his cross ; and his sur viving the agonies of crucifixion only six hours, while other men could endure the torture for several days. He was also of extreme physical sensibility. In his agony he sweat, as it were, great drops of blood ; he was affected to tears at the sight of a sor rowing woman when he knew that he was about to re lieve her grief ; and in the midst of triumph, he wept aloud when there came to him a vision of the woe that was coming upon Jerusalem. " A peculiar look of his is frequently noticed. I suppose it was a fixed, intent gaze, by which he looked into the very hearts of men, and read their whole lives, as he did the past of the woman at the well, and of the man who had been impotent thirty and eight years. This look sometimes went before his words, as when he said to his disciples, ' How hardly shall they that have riches enter into the Kingdom of God ; ' sometimes it emphasized his speech, as when he silenced the Pharisees in the syna gogue ; and sometimes it spoke without words, as when he turned and looked upon Peter, and the con science-smitten apostle went out and wept bitterly. At times too, a strange splendor seems to have envel- THERESA'S REASON FOR HER FAITH. 153 oped him, irradiating his whole person, and making his face to shine with an unearthly glory. This was seen not only when he is said to have been trans figured, but when he came down from the Mount, and all the people, greatly amazed, ran to meet him ; and also on the way to Jerusalem, when his disciples fell behind him in fear terrified at the forecasted shadow of the great struggle which he had predicted, but they did not understand. " His ordinary speech was striking, and peculiar. He spoke generally in short, condensed, aphoristic sentences, and he was so much addicted to certain phrases that their frequent use strikes us as manner ism. He seldom announced an important truth but he prefaced it with, ' Verily, I say unto you,' and he often closes some striking utterance with, ' He that hath ears to hear, let him hear.' Other like phrases I need not enumerate. The ordinary clothing of his thoughts was peculiar and original. Like all Orien tals he was fond of figure and hyperbole ; but, more than any of his race or time, he delighted in paradox and parable.- More than any poet of any time he thought in figures ; but thoughts that span the reaches of our souls, he clad in such familiar guise that they are adapted to the humblest intellect. He seems to have dwelt in the very heart of things, and to have discerned the hidden relations between the natural and the spiritual ; and, as the Infinite Spirit clothes His ideas in material forms, so he clothed his thoughts in outward nature, and human life, making them to move like living things before us. 154 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. " The Gospels say that he had next to no human learning, and yet, his parables and discourses, as mere literary productions, excel anything that has appeared in any language. I do not now speak of the truths they embody, but of the form they wear ; and where shall we find anything to compare each in its way with the Sermon on the Mount ; the Lord's Prayer ; his principal parables ; his last discourse and prayer with his disciples, and with that masterpiece of with ering invective, his last denunciation of the Pharisees in the Temple, which, beginning in low breathings of reproof, rises into a storm of indignant justice, and dies away in a wail of outraged love, that is tearful in its pathetic sadness. But terrible as the words are, do we not hear in their undertone the same voice which said, ' Come unto me all ye that are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest ? ' " And we see that his manner of delivering these discourses was so peculiar and imperial that his hearers were forced to say, ' He teaches as one having authority,' and, ' Never man spake like this man.' His imperial bearing impressed all with whom he came in contact. Though familiar and accessible with all, his most intimate acquaintance felt for him an awe which is seen in all their intercourse, and which often made them afraid to ask him the simplest question. No doubt it was the mere majesty of his manner that bore him unharmed from among his murderous townsmen, and smote with such terror the band of armed men sent to arrest him, that they ' went back ward and fell to the ground.' THERESA'S REASON FOR HER FAITH. 155 " What I have noted is enough to show that Jesus was an altogether unique and original character, and yet, all that I have said of him though it makes clear the fact that his biographers described a living original might be true of some transcendent human genius, who should be as great in the moral sphere, as Shake speare was in the natural. I have noted merely the outward guise that he wore : to find the real Christ, the Divine Man, we must look deeper, and looking thus, we see that the Gospels represent him as endowed with powers never before or since possessed by man. They depict him as living at one and the same time in two worlds the natural and the spiritual and as exercising absolute control in both over man and nature on the earth, and over disorderly spirits in the under-world. They show that to him all things lay open nature, the human mind, and the spiritual universe which lies about us, acting on us, and we on it, for good or for evil. They state that he read the past lives of men, and saw the future before it came to pass his vision of coming events not being dim, shadowy, and symbolic, like that of the prophets ; but clear, distinct, and objective, as is the life of the real world about us. And they attribute to him an amazing power of will, by which, on his mere volition, he changed water into wine, augmented human food, walked upon the sea, stilled the storm, cured, even at a distance, the most deadly maladies, and raised the dead to life ; and they represent him as doing all these things with as much apparent ease as he per formed the most ordinary action. He simply said, 156 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. ' Peace, be still,' ' I will, be thou clean,' ' Lazarus, come forth,' and, 'Young man, I say unto thee, arise.' And what is most singular, in making Jesus say, ' Whatsoever things the Father doeth, those also the Son doeth in like manner] these Gospels expressly state that these wonderful acts were not infractions of natural law, but were done in entire accord with the orderly procedure of nature. And thus we see water turned into wine in the grape ; the loaves multiplied wherever a seed is thrown into the ground ; and that an all-healing principle exists in nature, by which a new bark grows upon the wounded tree, and new flesh forms upon the mangled limb. Christ merely accelerated and intensified the ordinary processes of nature; and he never did what nature does not do supply an amputated limb, or restore that which has been absolutely destroyed. Even in restoring life to the dead, he but imparted to them of the abound ing life which was in himself, giving, as the Gospels state, life to whom he would, and thus verifying the words, they attribute to him. ' As the Father hath life in himself, so hath he given to the Son to have life in himself.' Therefore, the miracle was not in the act, but in the actor Jesus himself was the mira cle. "And it is wonderful, so wonderful that when I noted it, it swept away all my doubts of the truth of the Gospels that in an age ignorant of natural chem istry, and natural law, these writers whoever they were should not only describe these miracles so entirely in harmony with the universal order of things, THERESA'S REASON FOR HER FAITH. 157 but that one of the number should account for them by stating that Jesus was a fountain of life, quicken ing whom he would. From what old sage, or musty parchment of the first or second century, did these writers derive this sublime conception unfailing life, and almighty power, residing in the person of a lowly artisan of Galilee ? " But quite as original, if not so marvellous, as his miracles, is the view Jesus takes of human life, and human blessedness. He looks upon our life, not as bounded by a narrow horizon of threescore years and ten, but as having a limitless duration ; and he places our highest happiness, not in wealth, or fame, or power, or the gratification of disorderly appetite as most men did then, and do now but he says it is to be found in lowliness of mind, in gentleness, in com passion, and in that purity of heart which brings the soul within the divine order, and, more than science or philosophy, gives to man the vision of God. With out any knowledge of human ethics, he announced moral truths which we now see must of necessity lie at the very foundation of the moral universe ; and he so stated when he said, ' Heaven and earth shall pass away, but my words shall not pass away.' " These things are so familiar to us that we fail to realize how absolutely original they were when they were spoken. In an age of violence, when private revenge was regarded as a commendable virtue, he said, 'Resist not evil,' and 'Love your enemies.' In a time of universal selfishness and cruelty, when the rich were very rich, and the poor, very poor, he 158 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. said, ' Give to him that asketh of you, and from him that would borrow of you turn not away,' and he said also, that the question he should put to us at the last, would not be, ' Have ye preached in my name, and in my name cast out devils ? ' but ' Have ye fed the hungry, and clothed the naked, and ministered to the prisoner?" " The poor of Christ's time were simply outcasts, without civil rights, and condemned to minister to the luxury of the rich in peace, and to feed their ambi tion in war. Their homes were mud-hovels, swept away by every storm, and, according to Tacitus, a flag basket, and a bed of straw, comprised their entire household furniture ; but to this class Jesus specially addressed himself ; and he adduced the fact that he did so, as the crowning proof that he was a messenger from God. On this class, and the one immediately above it, he built his Kingdom. In this was he not altogether original, and not only in advance of his time, but even of our time, when it is just beginning to be understood, that the welfare of society depends upon the well-being of the poor ; that all social prog ress begins in the lower walks of life ; and that no State, however strong, can be permanently secure, whose foundations do not rest upon an enlightened and law-abiding working-class. " I have not time to further allude to the moral teachings of Christ, nor need I do so, for they have been familiar to you from your boyhood. Nor can I any more than allude to other features of his life and character, which stamp him as altogether original, and THERESA'S REASON FOR HER FAITH. 159 which need to be considered in any full view of the Gospel narratives how he was singularly ' meek and lowly of heart ; ' how he went about continually do ing good, mingling with the lower ranks of men, sharing their joys and sorrows, and always and everywhere, showing a perfect humanity. How, alto gether alone, one man among, perhaps, eight or ten millions, he fronted universal opposition, and the whole power of the Jewish rulers. How he lived in constant communion with his Father, looking ever up to Him with unabashed eye, unconscious of wrong, never feeling the need of forgiveness, and serenely saying to the Jews, ' Who of you convinces me of sin ? ' How he exemplified the perfect morality that he taught, observing spontaneously, even in his ex- tremest agony, its hardest precept, by praying' for his enemies, and saying to the officer who smote him, only this, ' If I have spoken evil, bear witness of the evil ; but if well, why smitest thou me ? ' and how with sublime elevation of soul he met unmoved, alike the wild enthusiasm that would have made him King, and the insane fury that fiercely cried, ' Crucify him, Cru cify him.' All these things attest in him a union of the divine and the human, and a rounded complete ness of nature, by which he touched man in his lowest estate, and God in his supernal glory. " All through his public life, at every step of his career, we see the divine breaking through the human ; but at times they appear together in a contrast that is amazing. Look at him at the grave of Lazarus see him weeping one moment in sympathy with the tears l6o THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. of a sorrowing woman, and uttering the next, those majestic words that call the dead back to a life among the living ! What a union is there of gentleness and strength, of human weakness and godlike power! Could such incompatible traits have been invented? Could human genius create a character in whom are so strangely blended all the sensibility of a man, and all the power of a God ? Have we not an intuitive conviction that he is no human invention, that this man, so Godlike and yet so human, once trod our planet, gentle and loving as the mother who bore us, and yet, grand and wonderful as ' the great mountains and the starry spheres ? ' " Pure and elevated as are the moral precepts of Christ, these Gospels show that he placed true religion, not in any round of moral actions, and cere monial observances, but in duty as it is an expression of love, love to man, and supreme love to God. He made the highest moral obligation, not like the Stoics, self-command and self-reliance, but their oppo- sites, humility and faith ; and the first of these was faith trust in another, and that other Christ himself. And these Gospels have the temerity to tell us that this Jewish peasant, lowly born, and without earthly culture or power, is the rightful King of men, and as such demands the absolute allegiance of every human soul. This is the Alpha and Omega of the religion that the Gospels teach. It is a stupendous claim. What modern historian would dare to make it for any man, however great ? And yet, these old historians claim it for Christ with an easy assurance which shows that THERESA S REASON FOR HER FAITH. l6l they were convinced that the moral sense of mankind would, sooner or later, discern that it is founded in the immutable nature of things. "In our admiration of the moral greatness of Jesus, we sometimes overlook the amazing depth and range of his intellect, indications of which are scattered all through the Gospel narratives. Sixteen hundred years before Newton discovered that the attraction of gravitation holds the material universe together, Christ asserted, through his disciple Paul, that by its analogue, love which is himself all things con sist, and continue in being; and nearly eighteen hundred years before Darwin was born, he an nounced the true doctrine of evolution and human development, when he said, ' I came not to destroy the law and the prophets, but to fulfil.' For his system was but a development of the Patriarchal and Mosaic systems, out of which it was to unfold by a process of natural growth first the folded bud, next, the expanding leaf, and then, the beautiful blossom, which blossom shall become perfected fruit as age after age shall see new light break from out the life and words of Christ. He saw that his truth, working silently in the hearts of men, would inevitably leaven the whole human race ; and his mind took in the progress of this truth from the little gathering of one hundred and twenty disciples, till the predicted time, when ' the knowledge of the Lord shall cover the earth, as the waters cover the sea.' And the immense range of his vision went even farther even to that great day when the heavens shall 1 62 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. be rolled together as a scroll ' and the mighty angel, standing with one foot upon the land, and one upon the sea, shall proclaim that ' Time shall be no longer.' " And this leads me to allude to the life-plan which Jesus set before him, and which we see was fully formed, when, directly after his baptism, he said to Simon, 'Thou shalt be called Peter,' and which he steadily pursued throughout his career, without one moment's hesitation or wavering, until, in that exult ing cry upon the cross, he announced, ' It is finished.' This plan involved no less than the moral re-creation of the world, and the founding of a Kingdom which should embrace the entire human race, and have its full development only in the eternal world. Of this kingdom Christ claimed to be king, but he could enter upon its possession only through the grave. What other man ever set before him a life-object that in volved his own certain death ? What other king ever sought his coronation upon a cross ? " I have now very imperfectly sketched for you some features in the character of Jesus, as he is por trayed by the four historians who wrote the Gospels. If we deny the literal truth of these narratives, it remains to account for the view they give of the per sonality of Christ. Who created the idea of this Divine man, so original, grand, superhuman, and so perfect an embodiment of our highest conceptions of God ? And, if some unknown genius as much greater than Shakespeare as Shakespeare was greater than the untutored savage did create this character, who in vented the system of which the Gospels make him the THERESA'S REASON FOR HER FAITH. 163 centre ? Who first conceived of a kingdom which should embrace the entire world, outlast time, and have its full development only in another life? Who first thought of a king who should be crowned upon a cross, enter upon his reign only through death, and then have committed to him ' all power in heaven and on earth ? ' These questions have to be answered be fore we can deny the literal truth of the gospel narra tives. " I have somewhere seen the work of the gospel historians, compared to that of some four sculptors, who were imagined to undertake the production in mar ble of the form of a most extraordinary man. No one of the artists was to execute the complete statue, but each, working independently, was supposed to mould a separate and distinct part. They were supposed to do this, and on the four parts being put together, it was found that the combined work formed a complete and harmonious whole and a whole grander, and more beautiful than anything that ever came from the chisel of Canova or Praxiteles. This work, which in art would be accounted a miracle, is actually before us in the Gospels I hold in my hand. On nearly every page they give evidence that each writer wrought separately and independently, and that the first three knew nothing of the other's work, but when their writings are combined, we find the portrait of a man absolutely original, and incomparably greater than all other men, and that a perfect harmony per vades the whole. Are we not then forced to the con clusion that all four writers described one livincr 164 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. original, and that he was the actual character they portray ? " And can we account for this extraordinary charac ter on any other hypothesis than the one which the Gospels afford that is, that He was 'the Christ, and the Son of God? This supposition makes all the nar ratives clear, consistent with themselves, and with each other, and it fully accounts for Christ's miracles, his supernatural character and powers, and his superhu man plan for the regeneration of the world. On any other hypothesis, Jesus will be forever the enigma of history. " Before the age of Copernicus astronomers con ceived the earth to be the centre of the solar system, and with all their ingenuity they utterly failed to bring order into the movements of the planetary bodies ; but Copernicus came and hung the sun in the centre, and instantly each mighty orb swung into place, and went on its way among the stars in an order so beautiful that it has ever since been the won der of the world. So it is with Christ and the Gospels. Account Jesus merely a man, and the nar ratives are improbable, and the events they relate are contrary to the established order of nature, and to the experience of history : but give to Christ the divine nature these Gospels ascribe to him, and they become probable, conformable to all natural and spiritual law, and they fall at once into a beautiful harmony, out of .which pours a celestial light, and if we do but lis ten a celestial music ; even the song of the angels, ' Glory to God in the highest heavens, And on earth peace, good will to men.' " THERESA'S REASON FOR HER FAITH. 165 " You have given me a clearer view of Christ than any I have yet had," said the young man when the Sister had concluded, " but before accepting it, I should desire to study the subject carefully. How ever, nothing you have said sustains the dogma of your Church, that Christ is the Supreme Deity. That, it seems to me, is disproved by the very Gospels that you refer to, for they represent Christ as pray ing to the Father, expressing constant dependence upon him, and as explicitly asserting that His life and power were derived from God. His words are ' As the Father hath life in Himself, so has he given to the Son to have life in himself/ and ' All power is given to me in heaven and in earth.' The attributes of the Deity are inherent, and not derived." " I do not dispute what you say," she answered, " and I am not defending the dogmas of any church. They are merely the deductions which men have drawn from the words of Scripture, and you and I can interpret those words as well as any priesthood. I think that our Lord nowhere claims to be the Infinite Being who is the life of the universe." " But you say that Christ is a divine Being in what sense do you understand that ? " asked Mr. Lamson. " I do not understand it," she answered. " Our Lord says that we cannot understand it. ' No one,' he says, ' knoweth who the Son is but the Father,' thus showing the futility of all speculations on the subject. We can know only so much as we are told. We are repeatedly told that He is the Son of God, l66 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. which I suppose means that He derived his divine being and nature from His Divine Father, in some such manner as a human son derives his human nature from his natural father. The relation of the Divine Son to the Divine Father is above my comprehen sion ; but what seems to me the clearest expression of it is here, in the first chapter of Hebrews. The passage is somewhat obscured in the King James translation, therefore, I will render it as I read it in the original. " ' God, who at sundry times and in divers manners spake of old to our fathers by the prophets, hath in these last days spoken unto us by His Son, whom he appointed heir of all things, by whom also He made the worlds ; who being an emanation of His glory, and an express image of His substance, and uphold ing all things by the word of His power, when He had by Himself made purification for our sins, sat down on the right hand of the Majesty on high ; being made so much greater than the angels, as He hath by inheritance obtained a more excellent name than they.' " In some such manner as light emanates from the sun, I suppose Christ to have emanated from God ; and as by analyzing light we get at the constit uents of the sun, so, by studying Christ we can arrive at the nature of God, for He is His 'express image.' I advise you to study Him for yourself, and in all His aspects, not only while He lived here as a man, but both before and since he came to the earth, for He is in all profane as well as sacred history." THERESA'S REASON FOR HER FAITH. 167 Soon after this the two Sisters took their leave. Isabel accompanied them to the doorway, and as they were about to depart, Sister Theresa put her arms about her, and drawing her closely to her, said, " My dear, sweet Child ; somewhere in Proverbs it is said, ' Keep thy heart with all watchfulness, for out of it are the issues of life.' He is a true, noble young man, and he will yet be a brave soldier of our Lord ; but his whole soul is with the one who is dead." "Why, Sister!" exclaimed Isabel, coloring deeply, "he is my brother. He has said he would be a brother to me, and a son to mother." " And what he has said, he will be. Only for your own peace, dream of nothing more," and with these words the Sister went her way into her own lonely life lonely, and yet not so, for the Master was with her. CHAPTER XL PLATONIC LOVE. WHEN Isabel returned to the young man's room she found him and her father in conversation over the interview with Sister Theresa. " Besides this, Richard," said Mr. Lamson as she entered, " the spirit ual life she has led for so many years has given her an experience of many truths that are, to most of us, mere speculation. She rejects the worship of the Virgin, and the mummeries of the Catholic Church ; but I think she accepts the fundamental doctrines it holds in common with all orthodox churches though she believes that the creeds express merely the shell, and not the kernel of truth." " Her father is a Protestant," said Isabel, " and she has told me that she joined the Catholic Church because it has a better organization than the others for reaching the poor and ignorant. She believes in a working religion." 'She is a saintly woman," replied Richard. "I shall certainly heed her so far as to investigate the subject." "I would do so," said Mr. Lamson. "I have observed that you can take nothing on trust which PLATONIC LOVE. 169 I suppose is owing to the lawyer-mind you have inherited. With me it is different. I never had a turn for abstract speculations. I prefer plain facts. One fact to me is worth a million of theories, and by experience I have learned that the greatest fact in life is that Christ is our Almighty Friend." " Richard," said Isabel, "won't you let me study with you ? I need to know the truth as much as you do." " I should like nothing so well, Bella," he answered ; "we can be a help to one another." The physician, who soon afterwards called, advised the young man to keep within doors during the suc ceeding day, and accordingly, it was not till the day following that he resumed his duties at the counting- house. On that day he became of age, and was for mally admitted a partner in the great house of Lam- son & Co. When he reached home a little after three o'clock on that afternoon, Isabel met him in the hall, and seizing him by both hands, she exclaimed, " Let me congratulate you, dear Richard, on being to-day both a man, and a merchant. Tell me, what shall I give you for a birthday present ? " " Give me yourself, my sweet one," he said. " Put your arms about my neck, and call me your dear brother." " I'll do better than that," cried the impulsive girl, throwing her arms about him, and covering his lips with kisses. In an instant she shrank back, saying, " Oh ! Richard, what have I done ? You will think me unmaidenly." I/O THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. " Oh! no, my dear," he said, putting his arms about her, and pressing his lips again to hers. " It expresses our mutual feeling. I think no man ever had so true, so pure, so noble a sister as I have." "Nor any woman so good, so manly, so royal a brother as I," she said, drawing herself gently away. " But, Richard, we'll repeat these ceremonies only on our birthdays." " Just as you say, dear Bella," he said, releasing her, but adding with deep feeling, " I shall never forget what you have been to me during the past few days." "Nor I what you have been to me," she answered. " I have all my life longed for a brother, and when I think that I have found one, and such a one as you, Richard, it seems as if I couldn't contain myself for very joy." She then led him into the library where he received from the mother very much the same greeting that he had from the daughter. His voice was husky when he said to them, " The kindness of both of you to a penniless boy overpowers me. I do not know what to say to you." " Say nothing," said Mrs. Lamson, tears coming into her eyes ; " but you are not a penniless boy ; how can you be, when you are our son, and a partner in Lamson & Co?" The young man had been taught by Henshaw & Co. to go to the bottom of whatever business he had in hand, and to observe system in all things. These PLATONIC LOVE. I/ 1 habits he now applied to an investigation into the origin of Christianity. First, he analyzed the four Gospels, to form a clear and connected picture of the majestic personage who moves through those wonder ful narratives ; and next, he investigated the time, and the manners and customs of the Jews, in order to view the Christ in his actual earthly surroundings. The result of these latter investigations was his con viction that it was morally impossible for the first three histories to have been written much, if any, later than the dates usually give for their production, so exactly do they reflect, and fit into, the period directly prior to the destruction of Jerusalem. Next, with no aid except a small volume by Alex ander Keith, he looked into the prophecies, having in mind the fact that for nearly two thousand years they had been in the custody of the enemies of Christ, and, therefore, exempt from all liability to being garbled or corrupted. Exploring them for the earthly history of the Christ, he found that, beginning with the promise made by God to Abraham, nearly a score of writers, differing in rank, cultivation, and surroundings, had during a period of fifteen hundred years, predicted the coming, and depicted the life and character of such a personage as the world had never seen. One writer had recorded one incident in his career, or trait in his character, another writer, another, but, all combined, their various predictions formed an outline history of the earthly life of Jesus, in entire harmony with that written by the four evangelists. It was as if, nearly two thousand years before he was born, some great 1/2 THE LAST OF THE TH0RNDIKES. painter had sketched in rough outline, the portrait of a most remarkable man, who was to come upon the earth, and had hung it up before the eyes of all his countrymen. In another hundred years another great artist had arisen, who had added a few touches to the original sketch, and a century later, another, and then another, and another, till at the close of fifteen hun dred years, at least twenty artists had, at longer or shorter intervals, wrought upon the picture, each one adding some new and additional feature, till, at the end of that long period, the great portrait had been completed, and exhibited to the gaze of all mankind as it had been by the Septuagint translation of the Old Testament, about two hundred and fifty years before the birth of Christ. In this prophetic history the young man saw the life of Jesus written by the very hand of Omnipotence ; for who but God himself could, centuries before his coming, thus portray in unique and extraordinary detail, the life of the most original man ever born into the world ? The character and career of Christ, as he had discovered them from an analytic study of the four Gospels, had fully convinced him of the entire truth of the narratives; but this prophetic evidence wrought in him a faith even stronger, for it was abso lutely unassailable not liable to scientific objection, nor to be explained away by any mythical theory. When 'it fully broke upon his mind, the force with which it struck him was overpowering, and turning to Isabel, he said, "It is wonderful, Bella, wonder ful!" PLATONIC LOVE. 173 " It is indeed wonderful," she answered. "All that Sister Theresa has said is true. He is our Lord, and as He died for us, Richard, so will we live, and work, and if need be, die, for Him." Isabel had accompanied him at every step of this inquiry, and had been of essential service in it, espe cially in the examination of the Gospel narratives. While his comprehensive mind traced more readily the broader outlines of the great picture, her finer intellect detected sooner than his those details of local coloring which give such self-verifying naturalness to the history. For instance, she saw that sudden storms " came down on the Lake," because it lies six hundred feet below the Mediterranean, vast naked heights stretching away from, and above it, through which water-courses have ploughed gigantic funnels that naturally draw the cold air of the mountains down, in sudden gusts, to the heated region below. Various topographical allusions also such as going down from Nazareth to Capernaum, up from Capernaum to Jerusalem, and down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and others of similar character, which are scattered throughout the narratives, she was the first to point out, and they were additional evidence to him that the several accounts had been written by men thoroughly acquainted with the topography of the country. Other self-verifying circumstances in the narratives she in like manner observed, and as I have failed to see them alluded to in any work on the Gospels, I may as well briefly refer to some few of them here, Richard saw that there had been two cleansings of the 1/4 THE LAST OF THE TIIORNDIKES. Temple by Jesus one at the beginning of his minis try, which is recorded only by John, the other at its close, mentioned by all the other Evangelists, and his collateral reading had satisfied him that Annas, Cai- aphas, and other of the wealthy Sadducean priesthood, were engaged in, and derived large profits from, the traffic in the animals needed for the sacrifices, and the exchanging of Roman coin into the Jewish money required for the Temple tribute. " Here, Bella," he said to her, while they were comparing the several accounts, " in the first cleansing of the Temple, we see the beginning of the hostility of Annas and the other rulers, which, three years later, cost our Lord his life. He at first interfered with their gains, and at last his growing popularity and denunciation of them before the people, gave them, they thought, no alter native between taking his life, and losing their power." " Yes, Richard," she answered, looking up from the ' Harmony of the Gospels,' which she held upon her knee, "and do you notice how tamely they submitted to him he, a simple Galilean peasant, and they, the mighty rulers of the Jews? Something in his manner awed them. The spirit of greed is never brave, but they were conscious of doing wrong, and ' conscience doth make cowards of us all.' " ' That is true, Bella, and viewed in that light the narrative is wonderfully natural." " And do you observe this also, Richard ? " she con- tinued. "At the first cleansing in John, it is said that he drove out sheep and oxen, but in the last PLATONIC LOVE. 175 three accounts, those animals are not mentioned only doves, and money-changers. Three years had intervened between the two cleansings, and for a year and a half of that time Jesus had not been in Jerusa lem. The rulers had, meanwhile, mustered courage enough to resume the traffic in doves, but not in the larger and more noisy animals." On another occasion, when they were considering the treachery of Judas, he said to her, " I have never been able, Bella, to get at the motive of that man. I have read the different theories of a dozen authors about it ; but none of them seem to have analyzed him correctly. However bad he may have been, he could not have been three years in daily intercourse with the Lord, without becoming too much attached to Him to deliberately compass His death. He expected by joining Christ as did the others to share in a temporal kingdom, but he could not have hoped to force Jesus to deliver himself by a miracle, and so begin his reign, for he knew that he had refused to be thus made a king, and that he appealed to only the moral sentiments of men. And, thief and miser though he was, thirty pieces of silver only about a hundred dollars of the money of to-day could not have tempted him to so dastardly a crime against immaculate goodness, seeing that he ' bore the bag,' and could have stolen that sum in a very brief time. Your insight is wonderfully clear, Bella. Tell me, why did Judas betray the Lord?" " Don't the Gospels themselves give the reason, Richard ? " she answered. " Both John and Luke say 176 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. that 'Satan entered into Judas." In closing his account of the Temptation, Luke says that Satan departed from Jesus ' for a season,' implying- that he renewed his assaults, and I think our Lord's frequent reference to him shows that he followed him all through his career. His purpose was to destroy Him, and his influence for good in the world. He could do that only by working through living men. He could reach them through their lower propensities, thus arouse the evil that was in them, and mould them to his purposes, He must have seen that Judas was miserly, greedy of gold, and ready to resort to any dishonest means to gain his ends. By acting on these passions he had got such control over him, all of a year before the betrayal, that our Lord said, ' Have not I chosen you twelve, and one of you is a devil.' ' " But the time did not come when Satan could use Judas as an instrument for Christ's destruction till the last visit to Jerusalem. Then, I think, we can see the successive steps by which he led him on to accom plish his purpose to destroy Jesus. The first step was at the supper at Bethany. Then, when the spirit of greed in Judas was excited by the waste of the ointment, and his anger was aroused by the gentle reproof of the Lord, he first infused into his mind the idea of betraying him. Then, Luke says, he ' entered into Judas' and Sister Theresa says this is not a mere figure of speech, but the statement of an actual fact, and she knows, from her own observation, that spirits have power to possess mortals. Then, she says, Judas in a sort of dazed condition much the same as PLATONIC LOVE. 1/7 the subject is in when under control of a magnetizer was led by Satan to the chief-priests, where he bar gained to betray the Lord. After that, up to the time of the last supper, she supposes him to have been more or less under the control of Satan being him self, and yet not fully himself until the time when at the supper Jesus was asked to point out the one who should betray him. Then, as John records, Satan again took complete possession of him, and held it till the trial of Jesus before the Sanhedrin was over. Then, when the Jews had bound Jesus, and were about to lead him away to Pilate, Satan, having no further use for Judas, left him, and all at once the man came to himself to the full possession of his own mental faculties and realized his great crime in betraying his Lord. It was this thought that must have first come to him, for he did not yet know the consequences of his treachery. The Sanhedrin could condemn a man to death, but it could not execute the sentence. Only the Roman Governor could do that, and it was very improbable that Pilate would order Jesus put to death on any such charge as the Jews could bring against him. So it was remorse at having betrayed the innocent which so horrified Judas that, casting the thirty pieces of silver at the feet of the priests, he went away and hanged himself." " Then, is Judas to be absolved from the guilt of the betrayal?" asked Richard. " I think not, Richard," answered Isabel. " Our Lord himself did not hold him guiltless. He said it had been better for him had a millstone been hanged 178 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. about his neck, and he drowned in the depths of the sea. Does it not seem to you that the guilt of Judas lay mainly in his evil habit of mind, which enabled Satan to obtain power over him ? Is it not the whole tenor of our lives, and not any one act, that decides our characters and destiny ? It seems to me that Judas was thoroughly bad at heart, and that, even if he had not betrayed our Lord, he would have gone to his ' own place ' among the lost spirits." But I have detailed enough of these interviews to show the character of mind of both this young man and young woman. The only other conversation I shall repeat has a direct bearing upon my narrative. It occurred on the evening directly following the one which has been referred to. The room in which these young people conducted their studies was a small apartment adjoining the library, furnished with a few easy chairs, a sofa, a low table, and a revolving book-case, which Richard had himself constructed to hold the few books of reference needed for the particular inquiry they chanced to be pursuing. Isabel usually occupied a chair on one side of the low table, while Richard sat upon the sofa on the other side, and their sessions were always in the evening, for until dinner which now was served at three o'clock in the afternoon Richard was engaged at the counting-house, and after that hour, and until about dark, he was employed always with Isabel and the ponies in going about upon the affairs of the Industrial School, or the other benevolent projects of Mr. Lamson, control of which he was gradually shift- PLATONIC LOVE. 1/9 ing into the young man's hands, to familiarize him with their management against the time when he should himself return to America. Often Mr. Lamson and his wife passed the evening with them in this little room, but more frequently the two young people were there alone together, and they were so on the occasion I now refer to. As Richard took his accustomed place at the back of the little table, he said to Isabel, " Bella, I have been thinking over what you said last evening about Judas, and I have been more and more struck with the quick perception, and wise discrimination of his motives, that you have displayed. The wonder to me is, how, cooped up in this far-away island of the China sea, you have been able to acquire the mental training, and wide knowledge, that you have shown in all our studies." " Well, Richard," she answered, " I had an excel lent governess until I was seventeen, and ever since my childhood I have talked a good deal with Sister Theresa, and she knows everything. Besides, I have read every book in Father's library he got them all for me." " But all that, Bella, is not enough to account for it without your admirable qualities of mind. You see at once right through a subject. I can't tell you what a help you are to me." " It makes me happy, Richard," she said, " to know that you are satisfied with me, and I like to have your praise ; but you must not flatter me." " Flatter you, Bella ! " he exclaimed. " Is it flattery 180 THE LAST OF THE TIIORNDIKES. to say that I every day see something new in you to admire ? You do not know that twenty times in every day I thank God for bringing you into my life. Had it not been for your inexpressible kindness, I could not have been reconciled to living that blow of a year ago would have killed me." Her eyes were full of tears as she answered, " It makes me very happy to have you say that, Richard. And if I have been a help to you about the school, and in these studies won't you tell me that I may help you, and work with you, in everything and always ? " " Always is a very long word, dear Bella," he said, in a gentle tone. " Do you reflect that some day you will be some good man's wife then how could we work together ? " "Never, Richard," she said, her eyes still glis tening. " I shall never be the wife of any man. All that I ask for is to work with you, and for you." "You are a dear, good girl, Bella ; but have you fully considered what you are saying ? " " Fully, Richard. I had rather be your helper and comrade, than the wife of any man in the world." " And what has brought you to this feeling ? " he asked, in a voice trembling with emotion. " Speak openly and freely, dear Bella. Do not fear that I shall misunderstand you." " It is seeing that you have to go through life alone," she said, after a moment's hesitation ; " and seeing, too, that you love me. After you came home on your PLATONIC LOVE. iSl twenty-first birthday, and took me in your arms, and called me all those endearing names, I lay awake all night in a very tumult of joy over what you had said. Then I found out that I loved you loved you well enough to die for you that I couldn't be happy with out being always with you. At first I thought it was wrong to feel so when you belonged to another, and I fell upon my knees, and asked the Lord to give me light. Soon the light came, and I saw that it could not be wrong to want to be your sister, to comfort and care for you always." " But did you reflect that when your father and mother go to America, you will have to go, too, and that then, though you will still be my sister, you will be fifteen thousand miles away ? " " Yes, Richard," she said. " I thought of that ; but if you are willing, I will not go I'll stay here, and be your sister always." " But you can't do that, dear Bella, with your father and mother away. It would destroy all our influence for good, if we lived together then you not being my wife." " Then, if you wished it," she said, looking at him with inexpressible tenderness, " I would be your wife; for I could not live away from you." Had this remark been made to him by any young woman among his Boston acquaintance, Richard would have recoiled from her on the instant ; but Isabel was not familiar with our American life, nor acquainted -with the conventions of refined society. While in a certain sense cultivated, and of inborn 1 82 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. modesty and purity, she was a simple child of nature, and had, moreover, been reared by parents who had taught her that language is not given us to conceal our thoughts. The young man rested his head upon his hand a few moments, without speaking. It was more than a year since the news of the death of his affianced had come to him, and the wound was not yet healed. He had thought he never could love another, and possibly he could not, exactly as he had loved Charlotte. But he was conscious that it was not merely gratitude that had, day by day, so drawn him more and more to this pure, unselfish soul, who now, in such maiden modesty, had confessed that he was all in all to her. He felt sure that he could love and cherish her, as she de served to be loved and cherished, and he would be an ingrate if after all she had done for, and been to him, he should turn away from the true heart that she offered him. These thoughts passing rapidly through his mind, he turned to her, and said, in a tone of deep tenderness, " Pardon me, dearest Bella, if I have taken a moment to think. On what we now say to each other may depend our whole lives. Are you sure that you cannot be happy without me that you will be content, whatever may come, to be always with me? " " I am sure, Richard. You have asked me to be open and free with you, and I shall be. Ever since that day, more than a year ago, I have thought over it, and wept over it, and prayed over it, and I know that I cannot live away from you. But I do not ask PLATONIC LOVE. 183 to be your wife, I only want to be your sister, I only want you to love me always." " I will, and do love you, Bella, and you shall be my sister, or my wife, whichever you like ; and you shall never leave me so long as I live. Now, come to me, my darling." She rushed into, his arms, and laying her head upon his breast, sobbed out, " Oh, Richard ! my, my Richard ! " He pressed his lips to hers, and called her by every endearing name, and then, drawing her gently down by his side, he wound his arm about her while her head sank upon his shoulder. For some moments they sat thus in silence. Then looking up in his face, all the loving tenderness of her pure soul in her eyes, she said, " Richard, I don't believe there is any dross in my love for you. At first I feared there was, for it thrills me with joy to feel your arm about me, your lips pressed to mine, and to hear you call me by all those sweet names ; but since the love of our dear Lord has dawned upon me, I know there is not, for He himself is Love. When father and mother go, I will be your wife, but your sister still." "And can you let them go so far away, and stay here alone with me ? " he asked. " I love them most dearly, Richard," she answered. "You know that ; but you are more to me than all the world besides ; and yet, I know that if Charlotte were to come back to-morrow, I could give you up to her, because she could make you happier than I can. Yet, I should want to still walk by your side, to hold 1 84 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. your hand in mine, and to be your comrade and sister as I am now." " Bella, dear," he said, drawing her closely to him, " you are an angel. In all heaven there can be noth ing purer and truer than your pure, true soul. With you always by my side I can be every way a man. Nothing but death shall separate us ; and when you desire it, or circumstances require it, you shall be my wife." She wound her arms again about his neck, and look ing up lovingly in his face, said, " My good, noble Richard, you make me so, so happy. I will never leave you. I will be your sister always ; and if we ever have to live alone, I will be your wife. But until then it is better that things should be as they are now, though I do want you to once in a while put your arm about me, and tell me that you love me." " It shall be as you say, Bella," he answered. " Henceforth your will shall be my law." CHAPTER XII. FOUR YEARS. FOUR years now rolled away with nothing but lov-' ing-kindness in that far-away household. Gradually Mr. Lamson devolved the conduct of the great firm, more and more, upon young Thorndike. As has been said, he was the head of the house, and this position involved his absolute control of a business spread over two hemispheres, and covering transactions reaching to many millions annually ; for the two New York partners, though men of means and experience, had but a subordinate voice in the conduct of the business. It was one of Mr. Lamson's maxims that there could be but one head to an army, or a business estab lishment. Others might advise, but the head must govern, and that as absolutely as if he were the " Autocrat of all the Russias." To this position he was entitled both from having originated the business, and from owning much the larger part of its capital. Mr. Lamson had now definitely decided to with draw from the firm at the close of the five years copartnership, but it being desirable that he should leave a large portion of his capital in the business, it was readily conceded by the other partners that he 1 86 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. should decide which of them should succeed him in its principal management. It soon became evident that he was carefully training young Thorndike to fill that position, and an incident which occurred about two years after the young man's admission to the firm rendered it certain that he had come to that decision. Richard had speedily exhibited qualities which showed him peculiarly fitted for the management of large business interests a cool sagacity, a determined will, and a broad glance that swept with ease over the transactions of two continents. He had not been six months a partner when he had suggested to Mr. Lamson an operation involving the control of a par ticular kind of tea in China, Japan, Europe, and America, and which would employ a capital of a million, and require all of a year and a half for its completion. When he had outlined it verbally to Mr. Lamson, the good gentleman said, " Put it into black and white, Richard, and let me study over it." This the young man did, stating the number of chests to be bought, the price that would have to be paid, and the sum of actual money required to be invested ; and then estimating the amount of sales, the prices the tea would command at various periods, and clos ing with a calculation of the net profit that would be realized at the close of eighteen months, by which time he estimated that the transaction would be com pleted. This paper Mr. Lamson put carefully away, and after a few days said to the young man, " That tea transaction, Richard, I think might as well be FOUR YEARS. l8/ gone into , but I will do it at my own risk. So, whatever you invest in it, charge up to my private account. I shall give you full swing ; but you may as well report progress to me from time to time." It was about a year after the interview between Richard and Isabel which is recorded in the pre ceding chapter, when Mr. Lamson, as he sat at dinner one day with his family, said to the young man, " Do you know, Richard, that the ' China ' brought account- sales of the last of your tea adventure? " "Yes, Sir," he answered, " but I've not had time to look over them." " Well, I have," said Mr. Lamson, " and I've got at the result, and moreover, have followed you at every step of your programme." "And what is the result, Sir?" asked Richard, a shade of anxiety on his face. " That, if you are not a prophet, you have read the 'book of Isaiah," answered Mr. Lamson, smiling. " Don't talk in riddles, Father," said Isabel, to whom Richard now confided all his affairs of whatever nature. " Please tell us. I am dying to know." " Well>" replied Mr. Lamson, " it overgoes by about ten thousand Mexicans Richard's calculation ; and moreover, Richard, the price of the tea, at stated periods, in London, New York, and Boston, has not varied ten per cent from your estimate." "Then the profit is very large, Father? " said Isabel. "What do you mean to do with it? You say you have more money than you want." " What would you have me do with it, my dear?" 1 88 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. asked Mr. Lamson, smiling" found another orphan asylum ? " " No, Father," she said. " I'll take care of the orphans. Give it to Richard he has earned it." "Don't you worry about Richard, young lady," said Mr. Lamson, an expression of decided pleasure on his face. " He can take care of himself. He is now twenty-three, and if he lives, he will, by the time he is thirty, make Lamson & Co. twice the house that it is, and be one of the merchant princes of the world. Such boldness and caution I never knew to be combined in any one man. Why, Bella dear, no general ever planned a long campaign more ably, or forecasted all its details more accurately, than Richard has this large and extended transaction." The young man sat for some moments in silence, unable to speak ; when he did, he said in a husky tone, " You overwhelm me, Sir, with your goodness. I value your approbation more than I am able to tel-l you." "You need not tell me, my boy," said the good man. " It will be one of the greatest pleasures of my life to be the ladder by which you climb." That evening Richard preceded Isabel by a few moments at the session in the little room adjoining the library. On entering it she went directly up to him, and throwing her arms about his neck, ex claimed, " Oh ! Richard, I am so proud of you ! Think of what Father said, that you, who take such delight in studies that most men of business never think of, should be a prince among merchants ! But FOUR YEARS. 189 rather than see you a prince, or a King, or even an Emperor, I would have you what you are a good man, and my loving friend, comrade, and co-worker for our dear Lord. Oh ! I am so proud of you ! " " That you are, my darling, gratifies me more than anything that your father good as he is could say to me," he answered, drawing her down by his side, and winding his arm about her. " And can you guess, dear, why I take such delight in this little room, and these studies? " " I'm not good at guessing," she said, looking up archly in his face. " Why is it, Richard? " " Because you are with me because here I have you all to myself." "I knew what you would say," she answered, resting her head against his shoulder, " and yet, I wanted you to say it it is such a joy to have you tell me that you love me. But, Richard, is not your heart too full to study, or even to talk, to-night? Mine is. I want to sit here in silence your arm so about me and to drink in all this happiness." For long they sat thus, neither of them speaking. At last, looking up in his eyes, she said to him, " I can feel your heart beat, Richard, and I can read your thoughts, though neither of us have spoken. Is it not so with you, dear ? " " Yes, Bella, it is. I read your soul as if it were an open book." " So I do yours, and I suppose this is that commun ion of souls which, Sister Theresa says, loving friends have with one another in the spirit world. She says 190 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. that there congenial minds interchange ideas, have long conversations, and never utter one word of articu late language." " I can conceive it to be so," he answered. " If it can be so here, why not much more there, where the spirit is freed from the trammels of the earthly body?" " And she says that the other world is much like this world, being the substance of which this is the shadow, and differing from it only as the spiritual differs from the material. She has seen there lakes and rivers, and mountains, and delightful scenery, all more ethereal than air, and as exactly adapted to our spiritual nature, as this world is to our human nature. There all the orderly desires of the soul will be satis fied ; and she says that the good live there in families, just as we do here ; and won't it be glorious, Richard, to be all together in such a world ? for I know we shall be your father and mother, and mine, and your uncle and Charlotte, and you and I all in one loving house hold ? " " And, do you think, Bella," he asked, "that you could be happy there, if Charlotte and I were to gether ? I do not know that we shall be I am sure that, much as she was to me, I never loved her any better than I love you." "Not any better, Richard," she answered, "but differently. I know, for women have intuitions which men have not. There is a part of your nature into which I have not entered, and cannot enter. That part of you belongs to Charlotte. I am content to FOUR YEARS. 19! possess the rest to be your loving helper and comrade always. And there, Richard, we can work together for our dear Lord, just as we do here. Did you never think of the thousands of poor, ignorant, degraded souls who go into that world every day, and who need guiding, instructing, and uplifting? Among them we can work together, and forever. Being with you in that work now is the great joy of my life, and to be with you so always will be all I shall ask." "Ah, Bella!" he said. "I am one of those poor souls whom you every day do good to. Day by day your pure, uplifting influence is making me a better, more spiritually-minded man." " I know that you always speak truly, Richard, and to have you say that thrills me with delight." Saying this, she threw her arms impulsively about him, and drawing his face down to hers, pressed her lips to his tenderly. At that moment her mother entered the little apartment. She paused for an instant on the threshold, then going directly to Richard, she put her arms about them both, saying, " This makes me very happy, my children. How long has this been, dears ? " " Never but twice before, Mother," said Isabel, re suming her former position. " And this time it is all my fault, Mother. I couldn't resist telling Richard how much I love him." " And does Richard love you as well as you love him, my dear ? " " I do, Mother," he answered, " and she has prom ised to stay here, and be my wife, when you go to America." 192 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. " It gives me great joy, Richard, to hear it. It is the one thing more than all else in the world, that I have desired. It will make your father as happy as it makes me. I will go and tell him. You remain here. I may call you in a few moments." Tears of joy were in her eyes when she left the room. As she did so, Isabel said to Richard, " Oh ! my darling it makes me tremble the fear of what Father may say, and, too, this is so sudden." " Have no fear, Bella," he said to her, " your father will feel as she does." In a few moments Mrs. Lamson reappeared in the doorway, saying, "Come, Children, ".and they followed her into the library. Mr. Lamson was seated upon a lounge at the farther end of the large apartment, a file of newspapers, which had arrived by the last incoming ship, lying on the floor at his feet. He looked up as they entered the room, and smiled as he said, " Come here, young folks, and sit with me one of you on either side. Richard, I have not been blind I have seen this coming." " I suppose, Sir, that you have I am not good at concealment and I love her, Sir," stammered Richard. " And what do you say, little one ? Do you love him? " " Ask Richard, Father," she answered, coloring deeply. " He knows I have told him." " I presume you have, a hundred times over," he said, laughing. " But, Richard, do you reflect that next to her mother, this little girl is the most precious FOUR YEARS. 193 thing I have in the world ? and that, if we should part with her, her mother and I would have no one to com fort our old age ? " " I know it would be so, Sir," answered Richard, " but in my selfishness I have not given proper thought to it. It was ungrateful in me, Sir ; but my love for her has made me forget everything else." "And what say you, my pretty one?" he asked, turning to his daughter. "Are you willing to stay here your father fifteen thousand miles away?" She threw her arms about his neck, and in a burst of tears exclaimed, "Oh! don't ask me, Father. I have not thought of you as I ought. But, indeed, and indeed, I do love you. But, Father, what should I do without Richard? And can't you stay here? Do, dear Father, and then I won't marry Richard, and we'll all live together, just as we do now. I don't ask to be his wife I only want to be with him everyday." " You are a sweet, innocent child," said Mr. Lam- son, kissing her; "but you don't know yourself. Come now, my dear, dry your eyes, for I won't force you to part from Richard. " In a moment the good man went on. " Richard," he said, " these women rule the world there is no resist ing them. I have seen that this was coming, and, as I have made up my mind to go home, you two will have to go with me ; and there we will live as we do here, all together. " "What, to America, Father!" exclaimed Isabel. "Take us both with you ! Oh! what a dear, good father you are. " 194 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. " Yes, my dear, " he said, meekly accepting the caress that she gave him. " Richard, I see no other way out of the dilemma. When you came with us, Mr. Russell proposed to take my place here, while I took his in New York ; but I preferred to take you, whom I could train in my ways. Now, we will let Russell have what he wants a taste of China and make it pleasant to him by increasing his interest somewhat ; and you shall take my place at the head of the house, but live in New York." " But, Sir," said Richard, "I have neither the abil ity, nor the experience to fit me for that position." " I am not so sure of that," answered Mr. Lamson, " but if you hav'n't now, you will have by the time the change can be made nearly three years hence. And I've thought of what this little girl of yours said at dinner that it was you who had earned the profits on the tea adventure and I've been down to the office, and had them credited up to you. It will give you more weight with the other partners." " But, Sir, " said the young man, " they amount to fully half a million dollars." " No, not so much as that, for it is right that I should charge interest on the capital you've em ployed ; but, with your other earnings, they'll give you a round five hundred thousand to go to New York with." "Oh! what a Father!" cried Isabel, clapping her hands together joyously. " And you did that on account of what- 1 said ! I'll tell you what I'll do I'll praise Richard so much to you, that you'll give him FOUR YEARS. 195 a hundred thousand a day, and then, pretty soon, you won't have anything, and will have to live with us on our bounty. Richard ! Just' to think of it!" The last words were broken by screams of laughter, which infected all in the room in spite of themselves. "And, Richard," continued Mr. Lamson, " if you will look at the books when you go down in the morn ing, you will see that when I was fixing up the tea adventure, I had the outside capital you had em ployed in it a trifle over a million transferred to the credit of Miss Isabel Lamson." " A million of dollars for me ! Father ! " cried Isabel. " Why, what in the world can I do with it?" " Spend the income of it, my dear," he answered, smiling. " It's the price the Compradore was willing to pay for you ; and of course, Richard wouldn't bid lower than a greasy Chinaman." " Of course he wouldn't," she said laughing. " He'd give two millions for me if he had them. But, Father, I'll sell myself to you for a single Mexican." " Now, Richard," said Mr. Lamson, "are these arrangements satisfactory to you ? " "Satisfactory, Sir! exclaimed Richard. " I have no words to express my gratitude." " You need not express it," said the good man ; "still, you ought to be grateful, for I am giving you the apple of my eye, the very joy of my life. But, I am glad to do it for I know that you will love and cherish her as you ought. Now, take Bella into your little room, and talk this over by yourselves. You 196 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. understand, we cannot go to America, and reorganize the firm, until the expiration of the present copart nership ; but that need not hinder you two from assuming a new relation whenever you think best." When they resumed their seats in the little study, Isabel seemed to have lost all of her exuberant spirits, and she said to the young man in a thoughtful way, " It seems, Richard, as if circumstances were forcing me to be your wife, whether I will or not." "And is that a hardship, Bella?" he asked, in a half-reproachful tone. " It did not seem to be so a few moments ago." " No, no ! " she answered. " It is not that, and you must not think it is. You know, dear, it would be the greatest happiness that could come to me. But, Richard, a strange feeling holds me back. I do not know why it is, or what it is ; but the oftener I go to the Lord about it, the more it grows upon me. I shall take circumstances as the showing of His will ; and if they lead me to you, I shall go joyfully. If Father and Mother were to go without us, the neces sity would be imperative ; but now, it is not. I shall love you just as well, you will love me just as well ; and had we then not better wait till we go to Amer ica ? " " Let it be as you say, dear Bella," said the young man. " Whatever you desire I will do." " You are a dear, kind, considerate Richard," she said, warmly. " I see something in you to make rne love you better every day." After that they sat there in silence, as they had FOUR YEARS. 197 before, drinking in the new happiness of having her father and mother with them always ; and upon that silence we will not intrude. The affairs of the school with which she was con nected, had obliged Sister Theresa to be, for some years, a frequent visitor at the house of Mr. Lamson ; but since the young people had begun the studies which have been referred to, her visits had been more frequent, and longer continued, she often passing entire evenings with them, and Mr. and Mrs. Lamson, in the library, discussing and explaining the particular subject they had under consideration. When Richard had related to her the effect which the prophetic por trait of Christ had produced on his mind, and that of Isabel, she said to them, " Do not stop there. You have found the living Christ, the Divine man, the only Being through whom God ever did or ever will, make Himself fully known to man. Now, ponder His life and teachings till He shall take full possession of your hearts, and transform your human natures into a nearer likeness to His own Divine nature. So will you be lifted above the petty affairs of this transient life, and your souls become centred in the higher life which is eternal." " Having found the personal Christ in the prophe cies," she continued, " now read them and the Revela tion, to learn the future progress of his kingdom ; for they span the whole arch of time, and give us the world's history of the very end. Then, see how He formed and educated the Jewish people pouring, as 198 THE LAST OF THE TIIORNDIKES. it were, his precious ointment into an alabaster vase, which was to be broken that the fragrant perfume of His life and truth might be diffused abroad over the earth. Then, notice how He prepared the world for the reception of this truth how the conquests of Alexander spread the Greek language among all civ ilized peoples, and the victories of Caesar, established a firm government over the entire world, which held all nations at peace till His Gospel could secure a per manent lodgment among men ; then, notice the over throw of the Roman Empire, how it was conquered by the Northern hordes, only that they might be con quered by Christ, and be the builders of modern Europe; then, observe our own barbarian ancestors, emerging half-clothed from the forests of Germany, to build upon a little island in the Northern ocean our Anglo-Saxon race which is to rule the world, and whose glorious mission it is to be the Apostle of enlightened liberty and Christian civilization to all the nations of the earth. Your eyes being open to know the Divine Christ, you will behold Him everywhere will see that He is the centre of all history, the pivot on which turns our human destiny, the Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the ending, and the first and the last of all things." o When the Sister had taken her leave, and Mr. Lam- son and his wife had retired for the night, Isabel said to Richard, in a voice trembling with emotion, " Richard, do you not feel that you would like to give yourself to our dear Lord ? Shall we not go into our little room, and there, on our knees, consecrate our- FOUR YEARS. 199 selves to his service for all our lives, here and here after?" " Yes, Bella," he answered, " I do. We will." Then, beside the low table in the little study where they had found the Christ, they fell upon their knees, and his hand clasped in hers, and his arm wound about her waist, he spoke these words, " To Thee, oh ! merci ful Lord, who hast revealed Thyself to us in the still air of this little room, we, Thy weak and erring children, come to dedicate ourselves, both in our bodies and our souls, for this life, and for that which is to be here after. In Thy great goodness Thou hast given us a dim vision of Thy supernal beauty, oh ! give us a still nearer vision, that our hearts may be so infused with love to Thee, that our souls may be eager, and our feet swift, to follow in the footprints which in Thy human life Thou didst leave upon the earth. Give us light to see our way, give us strength to do Thy will, guard us from all that may allure us from Thy truth, and accept our imperfect service, making it, day by day, more and more perfect through Thy abounding love. And oh! Merciful Christ, and Thou, Almighty Father, I, Thy unworthy son, thank Thee that Thou hast led me out of darkness into Thy marvellous light, and blest my lonely life with the gift of the pure soul who is kneel ing by my side. Oh ! cleanse my nature from all dross, from every taint of earth-born passion and desire, that my love for her may be as clean and pure in Thy sight as is the love of the angels ; and help me, oh ! Lord, to be her stay and comfort, her conso lation and support, so long as we both shall live." 200 THE LAST OF THE THORNUIKES. Twining her arms about his neck, and lifting her eyes up to Heaven, Isabel then said, " Dear Lord, his words are my words, and out of Thy great goodness I pray Thee to hear and answer them ; and, dear Lord, hear, too, my prayer for him. Have Thou his soul in Thy mighty keeping. Guide him on his upward way. Let not my earthly love impede his progress, but purify the love of us both in the fire of Thy Divine love. Oh ! dear Lord, I thank Thee for giving to me his true, manly heart. Make me worthy of the great gift. Fit me to be his stay and comfort through all the changes and chances that may come to him in life. If it seems best to Thee to try him with adversity, strengthen me to walk faithfully by his side ; if Thou should'st give him prosperity, let it not wean his heart, or mine, from supreme devotion to Thee. If poverty comes, may we be content ; if riches are ours, let them not sink us into worldliness ; and may we never forget that all Thy gifts are bestowed that we may help and succor Thy more needy and afflicted children. And, dear Lord, if Thou shalt choose to bind us together by an earthly tie, may we gratefully accept the duties it in volves ; and if Thou shalt see fit to keep us apart, let us be equally grateful, and as true, and faithful, and loving to each another, as if man had made us one. But, oh ! dear Lord, do not divide our lives, for he is the soul of my soul, the life of my life, and bereaved of him Thy poor, wayward child would be without comfort or sup port in the world. Still, not my will, oh ! Father, but Thine be done. And above all, dear Lord, let not the ineffable sweetness we find in each other's FOUR YEARS. 2OI love, lead us to forget Thee and Thy love ; but let it lift our hearts nearer to Thee, till our human love sball be transmuted into Thy Divine love, and be ours for ever." Then, still kneeling there, he strained her to him in a long embrace, and their two natures met, and blended in that spiritual union that is known only to pure hearts. And thus they grew together, two separate souls, with but one mind, one heart, one purpose, giving of love and light to one another, and bound together like twin stars, circling about each other through the heavens, and not to be torn apart without mutual destruction. And this new joy which had come into their lives made of these two young people new creatures. It did not radically change their natures ; but it wonder fully developed them. It made of him a stronger, manlier man, of her a sweeter, more beautiful woman surpassingly beautiful when, thrilled by his look of love, her face glowed, her eye beamed, and her very soul bounded to meet his. Then she seemed scarcely a thing of earth, but a pure being from some far-away world into which sin and sorrow have never entered. And this inward joy diffused itself all around her. It was felt by her father and mother, who would now and then take her in their arms, and say to Richard, " Dear boy, see what a sweet and lovely child you have given to us ; " and it was seen by the downcast and needy, among whom she daily ministered, so that when the ear heard her, then it blessed her, and when the eye saw her, it gave witness that she had been with Him whose love is a well-spring of joy forever. CHAPTER XIII. A GOOD MAN'S DEATH. THE five years assigned for the copartnership having expired, Mr. Lamson retired from the business, and Mr. Russell arrived at Victoria to take charge of the China branch of the great house. It was Septem ber in the year 1855, and since the preceding July the cholera had raged fearfully in Hong Kong. That terrible scourge is endemic to China, and it appears every season among the squalid Asiatic population of Victoria, carrying off many hundreds, but during this season it had been peculiarly fatal and aggressive. Familiarity with danger is said to rob it of its terrors, and the members of Mr. Lamson's household had become so accustomed to the fell disease that its annual outbreak created no alarm among them. Mr. Lamson in particular had no fear of the pesti lence, and it was his custom to make daily visits to a cholera hospital which he had established in one of the lower quarters of the town, and there to mingle freely among the patients, looking personally to see that they had the necessary medical and other treat ment. His theory was that the disease was communi cated by touch, and was harmless if the first symp- A GOOD MAN S DEATH. 203 toms were attended to promptly. But in this July, when the scourge first developed a more than ordi narily fatal character, Mrs. Lamson took alarm, and urged upon her husband to relinquish his visits to the hospital, and to hasten their departure for America. But Mr. Lamson could not leave Hong Kong till Mr. Russell had arrived, and the ship bearing that gentle man did not come in to port until the last day in August. Then a fortnight was consumed in making the New York partner acquainted with the Chinese ramifications of the extensive business, and in getting on board ship the treasured heir-looms, and other arti cles of special value, which the family desired to take with them to America. It was, therefore, not till the fifteenth of September that all was in readiness for their departure. In the meanwhile Mr. Lamson had deemed it necessary to go occasionally to the cholera hospital ; though out of regard to the wishes of his wife, his visits had been few and infrequent. At last all the preliminaries of departure were arranged and it was decided that the ship which should bear Mr. Lamson away -to " lay his bones," as he desired, in his native land should sail on the eighteenth of the month. Directly after sunset, on the fifteenth, as Mr. Lamson sat with his family, dis cussing with Mr. Russell and Richard some projected operations of the new firm, he suddenly experienced a vague feeling of unrest at the stomach, together with a general sense of heat and disorder. Perfectly familiar with the cholera, he recognized at once its premonitory symptoms, and he said to the young man, " Richard, 204 THE LAST OF TIIE TIIORNDIKES. will you have one of the servants go for Dr. Wyman, immediately." All in the room sprang to their feet, and hurried towards him, while Isabel cried, " What is the matter, Father?" " Nothing serious, my dear," he answered. " I am attacked, but we have plenty of time ; so, don't be alarmed." While Richard hurried from the room to dispatch the servant, Mrs. Lamson and Isabel accompanied the good gentleman to his chamber, where they hoped by chafing, and warm applications, to keep up the surface circulation till the arrival of the physician. Richard remained down-stairs, waiting with restless impatience for the arrival of Dr. Wyman. When, at the end of a half-hour he had not come, he ordered up the Mongolians, and went himself in pursuit of him. Following him about from place to place, he at last found him at the most remote house on the Peak, and, though he drove at a reckless speed, it was some minutes after nine o'clock before he returned with him to the mansion. Dr. Wyman was the most skilful physician on the Island, and in numberless cases had mastered the disease in its earlier stages, but this case was to baffle all his art and experience. The malady had run only a little more than two hours, but Mrs. Lamson and Isabel, with all their efforts, had been un able to keep up the exterior circulation. The disease had advanced with frightful rapidity, and Mr. Lamson was already undergoing great torments. There had been frequent vomitings, a dangerous sinking of the A GOOD MAN'S DEATH. 2O5 pulse, an excessive distention of the bowels, excruciat ing cramps in the arms and legs, and spasms of a tetanic character were developing. His features had assumed an unnatural sharpness, but his brain was clear, and his mind collected. "You are late," he said, as Dr. Wyman entered the room with Richard. " Yes, Sir," answered the physician. "Mr. Thorn- dike had difficulty in finding me ; but I trust I am in time." " I have my doubts," said Mr. Lamson, " for the disease has got a strong hold of me. However, we shall know soon." This was said with as little ap parent concern as he would have shown in speaking of an ordinary matter. I need not indicate the successive steps of the dis ease, nor the excruciating tortures the good man endured while, for the next five hours, the physician battled with the grim power that was wrenching soul and body asunder. Mr. Lamson watched the progress of the struggle, as if solicitous to know what was to be its issue ; but his eye was serene, and his mind continued to be cool and collected. Doctor Wyman did all that man could do, but the deadly scourge refused to loosen its grip, and about two hours after midnight, he said in a low tone to Richard, " No skill of man can save him. He is beyond hope. He cannot hold out many hours longer. He may have business affairs to settle, and he ought to know his condition ; but I haven't the heart to tell him." As Richard advanced to his bedside, Mr. Lamson 206 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. was coming out of a very severe spasm. His face was bloodless, and corpse-like, livid circles were around his mouth, his eyes were dull and sunken, his fingers wrinkled and sodden, and his hands withered, the larger veins upon them a dull black, as if filled with coagulated blood. He was tossing uneasily from side to side, and struggling for breath, as Richard reached out his hand as if to take his. " Don't, don't, my boy," he said, "don't, for your life touch me." The young man bent over him, and in broken words, that were more like sobs than articulate speech, said, " Oh ! sir, my more than father how can I tell you?" "You need not, my son I know the end has come. It is sudden but I am ready." These words were spoken in the hoarse, broken, wail-like whisper, which is peculiar to the disease. "Oh! Richard," cried Bella, springing to his side. " Is father going to die?" At the same moment Mrs. Lamson rose to her feet and rushed forward as if to grasp her husband's hand, but Richard held her back, saying, " No, mother, don't for your life touch him." Her head sank against his shoulder, and she burst into a fit of hysterical weep ing. There was something like a smile on Mr. Lam- son's livid and peaked face as he looked at them, the two strong arms of the young man holding up the two half-fainting women. "Yes, my dears," he said, in the same hoarse, broken whisper, " I am about to leave you but do not grieve for I am going to the Lord you all love." A GOOD MAN S DEATH. 2O7 Here he paused for a few moments, struggling for breath, then, looking at his wife, he said, " Rachel, my darling, we have been a long time together, and it is very hard to part but be comforted it will not be for long. I shall wait for you up there." She clung convulsively to Richard's neck, while Isabel's arms were about his waist, and thus they both stood, sobbing hysterically, while the sick man under went another excruciating spasm. When he came out of it, he said to Richard. " My dear, dear boy please get the Book, and read me the twenty-third psalm. It will clear my mind, and I have some things to say to you." " I can repeat it, sir," said Richard, and he went on. " The Lord is my shepherd ; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures ; He leadeth me beside the still waters, He hath converted my soul ; He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His name's sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil : For thou art with me ; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. Thou preparest " Here Mr. Lamson interrupted him by saying, " ' Hast prepared, ' Richard, for it is past now." " Thou hast prepared a table before me in the presence of mine enemies : Thou anointest my head with oil ; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy have followed me all the days of my life; And I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever." 208 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. When Richard had concluded, the good man said, " The Lord is my light and my salvation ; what shall I fear? The Lord is the strength of my life ; of whom shall I be afraid ? " A shorter and lighter spasm now occurred. When he came out of it his eye seemed clearer than before, and looking at Richard he said, " Ask Mr. Russell here; and all of you take seats near enough to hear me but not too near." When this had been done he continued. " Mr. Russell," he said, " I have made no will ; but you and I have been friends for many years, and I trust you to see that enough of my account is to morrow transferred to the credit of my adopted son here Richard Thorndike to make his capital in the firm a million of dollars. As to you and Mr. Ketchum, you need nothing; but as a token of my love, I should like to have each of you buy what you would most like, and have it charged to my estate. " Richard, the rest of my property, wherever and whatever it is, I leave to your management. I wish it to be divided equally between Bella and her mother; but enough to be taken from its income to give the Compradore and Sister Theresa about fifty thousand a year, to expend upon the charities I have established here. That ought to be enough to sustain them, for several are now self-supporting but about that you must use your discretion." Here his voice suddenly failed, and another, and more severe, spasm seized upon him. The agony he underwent brought tears into every eye ; and Isabel, A GOOD MAN'S DEATH. 209 and Mrs. Lamson, both clinging to Richard, again gave way to hysterical sobbing. When the spasm was over, he resumed in the same hoarse whisper, and broken sentences. " Mr. Russell, all of my capital can remain in the business, subject to the direction and management of Richard, the firm paying my estate legal interest upon it ; but the million dollars, which now stands to the credit of Isabel Lamson, had better be withdrawn when Richard goes to America, and placed where it will not be subject to the contin gencies of business. It will be well for Richard to have himself appointed executor of my estate." At this point another, and severer spasm than any which had preceded it, again broke the continuity of his remarks ; and when he came out of it he lay for a few moments apparently unable to speak. His mind, too, seemed less clear than previously. " Where was I ? " he asked, looking at Richard. " You had directed, Sir," answered Richard, " what should be done with Bella's money that is now in the business." " Well, that is about all," he said, " except, Mr. Russell, let me assure you that Richard my adopted son has extraordinary business ability. He has initi ated and carried through our most successful opera tions during the past five years. If you hang well together, and give him full swing, the house will be more successful than it ever has been. So far as my interest goes, I wish him to control it absolutely. Now, Richard, take Bella by the hand, and stand where I can see you clearly." 14 210 THE LAST OF THE TIIORNDIKES. They did as he directed, and then he said, " My children, I bless you. Love one another always." Lifting then his eyes to Heaven, he continued, "And Almighty Father, do thou bless them. Watch over them, and bless them to the end of their days, and bring them to me at the last. And, oh ! my Father, bless, too, my beloved wife, who has been my comfort and stay for so many years. Comfort her oh ! my Father, and sustain her under this sudden blow." He paused for a few moments while a convulsive shiver, but no actual spasm, passed over him. Then he went on while Isabel, her mother, and Richard, stood near his bedside as before. Turning his eyes to Richard, he said, " I trust them to you, my son. You will love and cherish them as I have ? " " I will," said Richard. " As God will be my judge, I will be to them all that man can be. Not for one day will I leave them so long as I live." " It is enough your word is enough, my dear boy. Now, good-by, all of you, for I can't hold out much longer this agony is tearing me in pieces. Good-by. God bless you all." In the intervals of the spasms water had been freely given him, for he was burning up with thirst, and now he asked for it again. When it had been given, he turned his eyes to the ceiling of the room, and repeated these lines. " Thy love has been with me all the way, A pillar of cloud in the cloudless day, A pillar of fire when gathering night Has shrouded in doubt my wavering sight ; A GOOD MAN'S DEATH. 211 It has guided my feet, wide wandering here, O'er arid wastes and deserts drear ; And will lead me on, through the parting wave, To the Promised Land beyond the grave." He never spake again. Soon his skin became icy cold, and a clammy sweat, exuding the peculiar death- odor,' gathered on his face. His cheeks swelled out, and shrunk inward, with his labored efforts at breath ing, and a white froth gathered on his lips, oozing down upon his livid chin. A fearful spasm then seized upon his very vitals ; his pulse, which had been growing feebler for several hours, ceased at the wrist ; and the broken heavings of his chest became feebler and fainter. Then there came a quivering among the tendons of his wrist, a long, weary, convulsive gasp, and then, just as the sun was rising over the placid sea, he passed from earth to the country of the immortals. Mark the perfect man, and behold the upright, For the end of that man is PEACE." i That it might be buried in his native soil, the body of Mr. Lamson was temporarily embalmed in a mix ture of acetate and chloride of alumina, as is customary in China ; and, being enclosed in a leaden coffin, it was placed on board the ship in which soon afterwards Richard, and the two whom the good man had so solemnly committed to his care, took their departure for America. And now I am to take leave of China ; but before actually doing so, it may be permitted me to say a few 212 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. words about its wonderful people, who comprise nearly one-third of the human race, and differ as widely from us in civilization, and personal and national characteristics, as if they had inherited another nature, and been born upon another planet. Mr. Lamson had lived among the Chinese many years, and he knew them well, but still, it may be questioned if he was not mistaken in supposing that our Anglo-Saxon civilization could be ingrafted upon that great nation. With our dim human vision it is presumptuous to attempt to forecast the future of any people ; but we can use our eyes upon what is going on around us, and if we do, we shall scarcely fail to observe that vast and vigorous changes, whose natural result will be an uplifting of the masses, and a general improvement of the social system, are going on all over the world. In China the change may not be an American, or a European change ; and it can scarcely be expected that it shall be, for the Chinese lack 'our temperament, our traditions, and our ideals. But it does not follow that they will not rise, if they fail to climb by the same ladder by which we are ascend ing to a higher civilization. Looking abroad upon nature, we everywhere see that its Great Creator delights in novelty and variety ; and if no two conti nents are alike in physical features, climate, or even in the coloring of their skies, shall we insist upon it that the various races of men shall all have the same cus toms and laws, and feel alike those national impulses which shape human society. What is essential to the upward progress of China, A GOOD MANS DEATH. 213 as well as of the rest of the world, is Christianity. And by Christianity I mean a true knowledge of God not God as He is being disclosed by Science, a blind, unthinking force, impossible to be fathomed, and so, termed the Unknowable ; nor yet God as revealed by Theology, and as fully analyzed, and measured, as if His nature were level with the human intellect ; but God as He is manifested in the life and words of Jesus Christ a loving Father, ruling all worlds, and yet, watching over and guiding the meanest of His creatures, and by His ever-acting providence, gradually uplifting our entire race to a higher activity, and a more perfectly developed manhood. This knowl edge is to be found only within the lids of the Bible, and when it is fully learned by us, and the other races of men, the world will awake to a new obedience, a new integrity, a new love for man, and a new homage of God. Then theology and science the one know ing too much, the other too little will both sit, humble learners, at the feet of Christ, and find in Him the truth which is the key to all other truth, and which harmonizes and makes one the whole creation of God. CHAPTER XIV. THE FIRST WEEK IN AMERICA. THE ship bearing the voyagers came to her berth at Central Wharf, Boston, one morning early in March, 1856, and as soon as young Thorndike had given the necessary directions about his luggage, he entered a carriage, and was driven with his lady companions to the Revere House, in Bowdoin Square, which had been opened since his departure for China. He was anxious to get speedily to New York, and at this hotel he thought he would be unknown, and conse quently not overrun and delayed by visitors. He was, however, in no danger of general recognition, for his changed habits and exposure to an Oriental sun had greatly altered his personal appearance. His tall form had filled out, his clear complexion was tanned to a rich olive, his close-shaven face was garnished with a full, flowing beard, and withal he had acquired the unconscious air of command which comes naturally to a man who is accustomed to broad views, and the conduct of extended operations. Even an old friend would have to look more than once to see in him the beardless stripling who only six years previously had set sail from Boston for the Antipodes. THE FIRST WEEK IN AMERICA. 215 Having telegraphed his arrival to Mr. Ketchum, his New York partner, he left Mrs. Lamson and Isabel to recruit awhile at the hotel, and sallied forth for a walk to the office of Henshaw & Co. He met a number of acquaintances as he passed along the streets, but though several regarded him curiously, none recog nized him, not even when he reached the familiar Long Wharf, and turned in at the warehouse of Hen shaw & Co. Ascending to the second floor, and enter ing the general office, he inquired of the lad in wait ing if Mr. Henshaw was in, and disengaged. " He is in, Sir," answered the lad, " and I think not par ticularly engaged. Shall I take your name in to him, Sir?" " No, never mind," said Richard, opening a near-by door, on which in gilt letters was the word, " Private." Mr. Henshaw was seated at his desk, and after the custom of most merchants, paid no attention to his visitor until he had finished the sentence he was writ ing. Then he looked up and cast his eye upon Richard, saying merely, "Good morning, Sir." " I see, Mr. Henshaw, that you don't recognize me Dick Dick Thorndike." "What, Dick! My own boy Dick!" cried Mr. Henshaw, springing to his feet, and seizing Richard by both hands. Other expressions of surprise and congratulation escaped him, and then, stepping to the office door, he said to the lad, "Tell all the partners that Dick Thorndike is here, just in from China." Then turning to Richard, he remarked, "Now, sit down, Dick, and tell me all about yourself. We heard 2l6 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. by the last Cunarder that Mr. Lamson was dead, and you were coming to New York." The three junior partners had by this time entered the room, and such profuse greetings and congratula tions followed that it was several minutes before Richard could explain that he could remain in Boston only a day or two just long enough to arrange the burial of Mr. Lamson's remains in the Thorndike lot at Dorchester. Thereupon, Mr. Henshaw insisted upon himself attending to all the necessary prelimi naries, as soon as he had paid his respects to Mrs. Lamson and her daughter. To this Richard assented, because it would allow him time to visit the old home stead previous to the funeral, which it was decided should take place at one o'clock on the following afternoon. Afterwards the ladies could secure a good night's rest, and be able to set out for New York on the succeeding morning. Mr. Henshaw's visit being over, Richard suggested to his companions that they should rest themselves in their room while he made a visit to his old home. " No, Richard," said Mrs. Lamson, " we are not at all fatigued, and we want to see every place, and know everybody you ever knew that is, if they are all as agreeable people as Mr. Henshaw." After a light lunch, they set out, and were driven rapidly to the old homestead of the Thorndikes. As they passed the Wilder mansion Richard pointed it out to his companions, saying, " Mr. Henshaw tells me that Mrs. Wilder has had a sad history. After he married her, Cravan plunged into the wildest specula- THE FIRST WEEK IN AMERICA. 217 tions, and about three years ago committed suicide. Then it was discovered that he had lost all his wife's property. He hears that she is living now somewhere in New York in the greatest poverty. My uncle pre dicted some such result from her marriage with Cravan." A few moments more brought them to the Thorn- dike homestead- Richard had not expected that six years would make any material change in its venerable aspect, but he was surprised to see the grounds about it in admirable order as well-kept as when the place was occupied by its owner. Alighting at the gate, he walked with the ladies up the gravelled path, and lifting the old-fashioned brass-knocker, inquired for the lady of the house. She soon appeared, and on being told who he was, invited them into the mansion. They roamed through its various rooms into the library where were his uncle's books, his writing-table, his lounge, and high-backed chair; and then they ascended to the chamber where he died, and where was his bed, just as he had been borne away from it ; and then they went into Richard's own bedroom, where they saw his low iron bedstead, and on the mantle-shelf a copy of Robinson Crusoe, which he had thumbed when a boy. Everything was in its old place, and nothing was changed, except that glass- doors had been added to the book-shelves to preserve the books, and the dog Ponto, and the affectionate kittens, had taken their departure. " We have occu pied the house," said the lady to Richard, " ever since the month following your uncle's death, and Mr. 218 THE LAST OF THE TIIORNDIKES. Henshaw made it a condition in our lease that every thing should be kept as it was, for he said you would some day come back, and it would gratify you to see the old place as it was in your boyhood. He comes here regularly once a month to look after it per sonally." They then went out into the garden, where, also, Richard found everything in its former condition. In the summer-house were his uncle's reclining chair, and a rustic lounge, on which he had often rested ; and leading Mrs. Lamson to the lounge and Isabel to the chair, he seated himself upon his own camp-stool, and said to them, " How do you like the old place?" " It has a very quiet atmosphere," said Isabel. " I never was in a place so restful, and so homelike." " That is precisely what I feel," said Mrs. Lamson. " If you were only out of the business, and we here together, we might easier bear our heavy sorrow." " We might be here in the summer, mother," answered Richard. " You can't remain in New York through the hot season, and neither you nor Bella would enjoy the whirl at Newport or Saratoga. Shall we not come here ? " " It would be delightful," answered both in a breath ; "but," added Bella, " perhaps the tenant has a lease." " I will inquire as we return," said Richard, " and when you are rested I will show you where Father's remains will be laid to-morrow." The lady of the house came to the door to bid them "Good-by," and Richard inquired of her about THE FIRST WEEK IN AMERICA. 219 the lease. It had expired several months before, and they were then tenants at will. Informing her that he would like possession by the first of July, he then conducted his companions to the carriage. Alighting at the church, they entered the old grave yard. A score of children, out on recess from a neigh boring school, were gambolling among the moss- grown stones, and one of them, older than the rest, was spelling out to a much younger child the inscrip tion on a weather-stained marble pillar, near the main entrance. Pausing before it, Richard read to his com panions the words. SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF ROBERT THORNDIKE, WHO DEPARTED THIS LIFE AUGUST 10, 1849, AGED 57 YEARS. THE MEMORY OF THE JUST Is BLESSED. Tears were in his eyes as he turned, and said to them, " They know and love each other now, and it will comfort them if their bodies lie side by side. It may be that they are looking down upon us at this moment," " If they are, they know what a faithful son and nephew you are, Richard," said Isabel, placing her arm within his, and drawing very near to him, " and, dear, will it not be joyous when we are all with them, never to be separated ? " They took lodgings in New York at an uptown 22O THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. hotel, till such time as they could find a suitable per manent residence ; and Richard left the ladies much to themselves during the first fortnight after their arrival, it being necessary that he should familiarize himself with the general outlines of the New York business at as early a period as possible. All details, were, and had been for twenty years, in the hands of Mr. Ketchum the resident partner, and an aged book keeper, who was an heir-loom of the establishment. Meanwhile, he employed a house-broker to wait upon Isabel and her mother whenever they felt inclined to go upon a house-hunting expedition. The young man had been thus engaged something less than a week when, one day near the middle of March, as he sat alone in the private room which, a year before, had been vacated by Mr. Russell, a visitor's card was handed in to him, bearing upon it the names, "Samuel Suydam and lady." "What is their business?" he asked the office-boy. "They decline to give it, Sir," answered the lad. "They say, Sir, they want to see you a few moments personally." " Very well ; show them in," said Richard. Mr. Suydam was a middle-aged person, of respect able appearance ; his lady companion seemed con siderably older, and something about her at once arrested Richard's attention. She was dressed in a shabby-genteel black gown, and a faded black silk bonnet, and she had the air of strained dignity that is sometimes seen in persons who have been reduced from affluence to poverty. Her form was somewhat THE FIRST WEEK IN AMERICA. 221 bent, one shoulder being lower than the other as if drawn down by rheumatism, and she walked with dif ficulty, being supported on one side by her compan ion, on the other by a stout cane, on which she leaned heavily. Her hair, which was arranged in peculiar puffs across her forehead, was deeply gray, her face, seamed and withered, and underneath her preternaturally brilliant eyes were deep, black lines, denoting recent illness, or intense mental trouble. As she took one of the seats to which Richard invited them, he observed that her left hand was shrunken, and apparently useless. The gentleman was the first to speak. Before tak ing the proffered chair, he handed to Richard a card, saying, " My name, sir, is Suydam, Attorney and Counsellor at Law, and we have intruded upon you to ask for some important information. This lady, I believe, is an old acquaintance of yours Mrs. Cra- van." "Cravan?" echoed Richard, not at once recalling the name. Then suddenly it occurred to him, and he exclaimed, " Can it be possible ! Mrs. Wilder," at the same time rising and grasping her hand, cordially. " I was Mrs. Wilder," she replied, taking his ex tended hand, and retaining it in hers. " I have since been Mrs. Cravan, and I am now the poor wreck you see me. But, you are the same noble-hearted Rich ard. I never treated you justly, Richard ; but you you bear no malice." This was spoken in the half- plaintive, half-querulous tone which sometimes accom panies chronic illness, or evil temper. 222 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. " Malice ! Madam," he said, " I never had any ; and if I ever considered you not entirely just, all unkind thoughts were long ago buried in Lottie's grave." She drew a deep sigh, as if he had touched a chord that vibrated painfully, and then said in the same complaining tone : " It is very noble in you, Richard ; I felt sure you would feel kindly towards me, or I would not have intruded upon you." " It is no intrusion, Madam," he replied. " Let me know in what way I can serve you. I shall esteem it a privilege to do anything in my power for you." He had drawn his chair nearer to where she was seated, and both his tone and manner told her that he had spoken sincerely. She looked pointedly at the lawyer, who said promptly, " You had better state the case, Madam." Then Mrs. Craven proceeded to say in the direct, business-like manner which the young man well remembered, " My maiden name, Richard, was Pritchett, and I had a brother James Pritchett whom you never knew, because he went away from home when you were but an infant. We did not hear from him, and did not know what had become of him, for many years. Then a letter came from him enclosing some money which my husband had loaned him ; but it didn't come to us : it came to your uncle, and it gave no information about him, beyond the mere fact that he was then in Hong Kong, China. That was more than a dozen years ago, and since then we have heard nothing of him, till a very few days since, when a gentleman from London came to THE FIRST WEEK IN AMERICA. 223 me saying that he had recently died, leaving a large estate, and a legacy to me of three hundred thousand dollars. The gentleman represented that he had for twenty-five years been on intimate terms with my brother, and was himself a legatee under his will for ten thousand pounds. These statements he confirmed by a copy of the will which he left with me, and he desired me to empower him to collect my legacy. I hesitated because I was not favorably impressed with his appearance, and my distrust was increased when he said that if I would join him and divide the avails with him, he would proceed to break the will, where by all the property would come to me I being the only legal heir and I should realize a sum much larger than the legacy. I am very poor, and the temptation was strong to grasp at any straw, but I asked him to call upon me on the following day. In the meanwhile I sought the advice of my friend here, Mr. Suydam. He had just heard of your arrival from Hong Kong, and he suggested that I should see you, as you might have known my brother, and could tell us where he had died, which, if we knew, we could ourselves collect the legacy." " I am very sorry to say it, Mrs. Wilder," said Rich ard, " but I did not know your brother. No person of his name has lived or died in Hong Kong during the past six years." " But I infer from some incidental remarks of the gentleman," answered Mrs. Cravan, " that my brother did not pass by his right name. He has carefully left out all essential things from the copy of the will he 224 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. gave me, but perhaps if you should look at it, it might afford you some clew to what we need to know." Opening then her reticule, she handed him a folded paper, which he had no sooner glanced at than he said, " This will was never executed in Hong Kong." As he read on his face brightened, and he asked, " Did the gentleman give you his name ? " "Yes, Richard," she replied, " Shepherd Chauncey Shepherd." " A paragraph here discloses the whole, Mrs. Wil der," said Richard. " I knew your brother, and I can help you to get your rights." "That is spoken like you, Richard," she said, beam ing on him with a look of maternal affection. " Which paragraph is it, Richard ? " "This one," he answered, proceeding to read. " I direct that out of my funds in the house of - , the sum of ten thousand pounds shall be paid to my friend) Chauncey Shepherd, in full requital for a like sum which he loaned to me when I first embarked in the China trade : and I direct that no interest shall be allowed said Shepherd, on said sum, except from and after the date of my death, he having received from me during the past twenty years a quarterly payment which has been equal to four times the legal interest on ten thousand pounds." ' This Shepherd, Mrs. Wilder," said Richard, " is a worthless fellow, and I never could understand why your brother, a shrewd business man, tolerated such a character; but this paragraph explains it. Your brother went by the name of James P. Alger, and he THE FIRST WEEK IN AMERICA. 225 was senior partner in the house of Alger, Timpson & Co., of London and Hong Kong. He probably died at, or near, London, but I had not heard of his death when I left China." "Then you think the legacy can be realized ? " said Mrs. Cravan, her face assuming some of its old-time composure. " I do, most decidedly," he answered, " Mr. Alger was probably worth from one to two millions, and you are the second legatee under the will. First is Shep herd's ten thousand pounds, then three hundred thou sand dollars to you, and one hundred thousand to Charlotte poor girl then the rest and residue of his interest in Alger, Timpson & Co., and all his real estate in China which is not less than half a million go to his reputed wife and daughter." " Then the lady will be well provided for," said Mrs. Cravan, " she will probably have a million ! Do you know, Richard, where she lives? " " She did live, some years ago, in the neighborhood of London. Your brother gave her name Georgiana Alger to his finest ship. I am told that she is a most estimable lady." "And what course would you advise us to take, Richard ? " asked Mrs. Cravan. " Send a trusty lawyer to London at once to attend to the business, and ignore that man Shepherd alto gether. His dishonorable proposal to you shows he is not to be trusted." " But, we have no money for such expenses," said Mrs. Cravan. " I am very poor not able even to pay 15 226 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. my board, and my friend, Mr. Suydam, has not the necessary means now at command. It will be a con siderable sum." " Don't let that trouble you," said Richard. " If Mr. Suydam will call upon me within an hour I will talk over with him such details." She leaned forward and clutched his hand, and with a voice husky with real, or pretended, emotion, said, " Oh ! dear Richard, how can I ever pay you for such kindness ?" "You are Charlotte's mother," he said, earnestly. " I should do this, and much more than this, for her sake, if not for your own ; and I am very glad that old age is not to find you both infirm and penniless." The two visitors soon afterwards took their depart ure; but Mr. Suydam returned at the time appointed. When he had seated himself, Richard said to him, " Tell me about Mrs. Wilder Cravan, I mean. I hear that her husband shot himself." "It was so," replied Mr. Suydam, with evident hesitation. " Speak frankly, Sir, if you please," said Richard, " I am, as you see, disposed to befriend Mrs. Cravan, and my reasons for doing so are entirely independent of her own worthiness. If she were the worst of criminals, it would not affect my disposition to serve her." " Then, as it can't injure her, I will be frank with you, Mr. Thorndike," said Mr. Suydam, with a sort of holier-than-thou manner. " And besides, Sir, I really would not like to have you take hold of this matter, THE FIRST WEEK IN AMERICA. 22/ without a full knowledge of all the facts known to me. I knew Cravan well. I was his attorney. He was not a bad man at heart, but of sanguine temper and weak judgment. He speculated with his wife's money, and was unfortunate. When reverses came she grew em bittered, and led him, I have no doubt, a terrible life. At last he made a desperate throw and lost ; and then, goaded to madness by her reproaches, he drew his revolver and shot himself dead at her feet. He left nothing but debts, and she was penniless; and the means she resorted to for a livelihood were not very creditable." " What were the means? " asked Richard. " She hit upon the plan of taking leases of furnished houses, buying the furniture, and agreeing to pay for it in instalments, representing that she intended to take boarders. She succeeded in doing this by refer ring to some of her well-to-do friends, of whom she had a considerable number, for as long as their money lasted she and Cravan had moved in good society. As soon as the bargain was closed, and she had entered upon possession, she sent the furniture to auction, and when the month's rent became due, the owner found himself with neither tenant nor furniture. " When she had been successful in three or four moderate transactions, she was emboldened to aim at higher game. She took a lease, and bought the fur niture of a first-class house, but unluckily gave a mortgage back upon the furniture for about half the purchase money. She was under the mistaken notion that the mortgage would not hold until it was re- 228 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. corded, and she had the record office watched, intend ing to stop the sale of the furniture she had sent to auction, the moment the mortgage went upon the books, and thus escape criminal prosecution. She succeeded in getting the proceeds of the sale into her pocket, but the owner proceeded against her for fraud, and I saved her from Sing Sing by paying the amount of the mortgage. This was more than the furniture had sold for, and it took all she had left from the previous transactions to make up the deficiency. That occurred six months ago. Since then she has been living on the charity of a hotel proprietor, whose wife, I am told, was a friend of her school-days. Now, she informs me, that they intimated to her this very morning that she must look out for other quarters." " Poor woman ! " said Richard ; " but this legacy will set her right. In the meanwhile she must have a home. Will you take to her my check for a thousand dollars ? " " I think, Sir," replied Mr. Suydam, " it would not be well to allow her so much money at once. She is inclined to be improvident. I would suggest not more than five hundred." "Very well," said Richard, proceeding to write a check. " And if she hesitates to accept of this, please say that I hope she will out of the love she bore to Charlotte, and that she must not fail to call upon me in any further emergency. Do you know, Sir, where her daughter was buried ? " THE FIRST WEEK IN AMERICA. 22Q " I did not know that she had a daughter, Mr. Thorndike. I never heard her speak of one." " How long have you known her? " asked Richard. " Only since her husband's death," answered Mr. Suydam. " That accounts for it. To make these inquiries is why I desired you to call on me a second time. The remainder of our business is very simple. The steamer sails a week from to-day. On the day preced ing, be good enough to call on me for your expenses out, and for a letter of credit on our London corre spondents for whatever you may need to expend on this business in London." On his entering Mrs. Lamson's room on his return to his hotel, Richard was told by Isabel that the real- estate agent had a half-hour before left with them the description of a house, furnished from top to bottom, which both she and her mother thought would meet their requirements. The owner was going to reside in Europe, and would sell the entire establishment horses, carriages and all for a reasonable sum. They had appointed with the agent to go with him to ex amine it in the morning, and, if it should suit them, they would come at once to the office and take Rich ard to see it. Isabel hoped it would suit, for her mother was tired of hotel life, and much desired to be again in a home of her own. In the evening Richard detailed to Mrs. Lamson and Isabel the interview with Mrs. Wilder, and the history of James Pritchett, alias James P. Alger, be- 230 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. ginning with the episode in his early career which had been years before related to him by his uncle. "What a change!" exclaimed Mrs. Lamson, "one day actually homeless, the next in possession of three hundred thousand dollars ! " " But what a woman, Mother ! " exclaimed Isabel. " Guilty of fraud, and in danger of State's prison ! You did right in sending her the money, for she might have committed some worse crime. The London lady is, of course, the one whose picture we saw at the Compradore's. I am rejoiced that she is to be made comfortable, but no amount of money can be com pensation for the wrong she has suffered." CHAPTER XV. THE REVEREND MR. SHEPHERD. As Richard was poring over the accounts of the New York house, about noon on the following day, Mr. Ketchum entered his room ushering in Isabel and Mrs. Lamson. "Mr. Thorndike," he said, "I have brought you some visitors of a character not often seen in our dingy quarters." " Unprofitable visitors, Richard," said Mrs. Lamson, seating herself by the bright, cannel-coal fire, " for, if you like the house, we shall ask you for a good deal of money." '"Ask, and ye shall receive,'" answered Richard, smiling. " But, take a seat, Mr. Ketchum, I want you to know these ladies better. Then the house suits you, Mother?" "It does, dear," she replied, "and it's all ready for occupation. Now, we want you to see it." " I don't care to," he said, " it is enough if it suits you and Bella." " It is precisely what we want," replied Isabel, " and I think it will suit you, for it has a fine library, filled with choice books, and, adjoining the library, a small study just like our little room at Hong Kong. But you must see it. How soon can you go with us?" 232 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. " Not, I fear, in less than an hour, as I am expect ing Judge Ellsworth here on that Alger business. Mr. Ketchum, there is too much involved in that matter to trust it altogether to a stranger, like Suydam." "But our own lawyers, Mr. Thorndike," said Mr. Ketchum, " are in the same building with the Judge." " Yes, I saw their sign," answered Richard ; " but I don't know them ; and this affair needs to be handled by a man whose integrity cannot be corrupted." "Then you know Judge Ellsworth ?" remarked Mr. Ketchum. " I never met him till this morning ; " said Richard, " but I know he has sacrificed friends, property, and position, for what he thinks the truth, and such a man is to be trusted." "Then, Richard," said Mrs. Lamson, "if you can't go with us in less than an hour, you'll let us wait here for I'm a little tired." " Certainly, Mother ; " he replied, " and how stupid I've been not to think of it. You must lie down. Come into the other room where there's a lounge. I've a blanket-shawl that I'll throw over you. Mr. Ketchum won't mind. She has been going about a good deal ; and ten miles through these streets are worse than a voyage to China." They passed into an inner apartment, somewhat smaller than the other, but furnished in a more home like manner, with a lounge, several easy chairs, and, in one corner, a secretary on which were a few books. The morning was chilly, but a bright fire in the grate gave the room a pleasant temperature. When Rich- THE REVEREND MR. SHEPHERD. 233 ard had placed Mrs. Lamson upon the lounge, with a sofa pillow under her head, and a blanket-shawl over her, she said to Mr. Ketchum, " Ah ! Mr. Ketchum, you don't know what a loving son he is to me. He was always most kind and considerate, but since my husband died he seems to think of nothing in the world but Bella and me. I loved him at first sight, and ever since I have loved him better and better every day." " I am not surprised at it, Madam," said Mr. Ketchum. " We have not known him ten days yet ; but we begin to see why you are so much attached to him." " In China, Mr. Ketchum " said Richard, " we have a way of plain speaking ; but I didn't know it had become the fashion in America. However, if Mother and you desire to discuss me, Bella and I will step into the other room." Mr. Ketchum merely smiled, but Mrs. Lamson said, quickly. " No, no ! don't go. I'll change the sub ject. Mr. Ketchum, my husband thought a great deal of you." " I thought a great deal of him, Madam, I loved him," said Mr. Ketchum. " He took me a poor, fatherless boy ; paid me a good deal more than the customary salary, to enable me to support myself; and when I was twenty-one, he made me his partner I not having a dollar. One of the last things he did was to increase my interest in the firm. He was like a father to me, Madam." " So he was to everyone," said Mrs. Lamson, " par- 234 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. ticularly to those who had no father. His greatest pleasure was to help others to help themselves. Do you know that the only misgiving he had about plac ing Richard at the head of the house, arose from a o fear that you might feel hurt at a younger man being put over you. He knew Richard, or he never would have done it." "To be entirely frank, Mrs. Lamson," said Mr. Ketchum, " I did feel a little that way when word first came for Mr. Russell to go to China. But when I reflected upon what your husband was, the feeling wore away, and it entirely disappeared before I had known Mr. Thorndike three days." " I see, Mr. Ketchum," said Richard, rising, "that you and mother are determined to talk Chinese, so, Miss Lamson and I will retire. We have a little bus iness together. Come Bella." They passed into the outer office, and placing a chair for her near to his own, Richard said, " Bella, dear, had I not better send our own lawyer to London to attend to that matter of the Alger will? I don't exactly like Suydam's appearance ; and I have been thinking over the remark that Mrs. Wilder made about Shepherd that if she were to join him, he could break the will, and give her a larger share. Alger's habits, I understand, have been bad of late years, and it, perhaps, might be made to appear that he was incompetent. If the will were broken, Mrs. Wilder would get all, and that poor lady nothing she not being Alger's lawful wife. Mrs. Wilder said she was to meet Shepherd again, and it may be now that THE REVEREND MR. SHEPHERD. 235 she knows how much money is involved she will not be able to resist the temptation he offers her. My Uncle always thought she had no moral principle, and that is shown in her recent history." " I think as you do, most decidedly, Richard," said Isabel. " The same thoughts have come to me. When did they first occur to you, dear ? " " Last night after I went to bed. I lay awake thinking of this affair till midnight." " So did I," she replied. " How many times this has happened to us that we, when apart, have had the same impressions, and come to the same conclu sions." "That is because there is such harmony between us, Bella. Our union of mind opens a channel by which our thoughts can flow from one to the other. I sup pose it is so with all pure souls who are closely united. But they need to be pure, and to love one another, for love is the magnet which draws the thought of one to the other. " Such love as ours, dear," she said, " love that has no dross in it nothing selfish or earthly. Such moments are very sweet to me, Richard. Then you come very near, and I feel sure that you could not live your full life without me." " I could not, Bella. I could not be half a man without you. I live in you. Kiss me, darling." Then he said to her, " You are very dear to me, Bella. We will look at the house, and then " At this moment there was a rap at the office door, and the office-boy entered and announced, " Judge 236 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. Ellsworth." The Judge was a man of about fifty-five years, tall and erect, and of slight, but well-propor tioned figure. His dark hair was untouched with gray, but his regular features were seamed with deep lines, more indicative of thought than of years. He wore glasses, but behind them were eyes more intense and penetrating than any that Richard had ever seen. His manner had a quiet dignity, blended with a cer tain air of command, which may have been natural to him, or, perhaps, have been acquired from his having, for many years, held the highest judicial position in the State. Richard rose, and greeting him deferen tially, said, " I am sorry, Sir, that I have had to ask you to call upon me : but having very recently ar rived, I have mountains of work before me. Allow me, Judge Ellsworth, to make you acquainted with Miss Lamson. We were this moment conferring together about the affair of which I have spoken to you." "Indeed!" said the Judge, looking pleasantly at Isabel. " Do you talk over your business affairs with the lady members of your household ? " " I do with Miss Lamson, Sir," answered Richard, " all affairs of importance." "And sometimes, Sir," said Isabel, smiling, "I catch his ideas when he doesn't know it. That may be the reason he keeps nothing from me." " I suspect that is not the only reason," replied the Judge. "He has no doubt learned from experience that a woman's brain is much clearer, and more intu itive, than a man's. I was in the habit of always con- THE REVEREND MR. SHEPHERD. 237 suiting my wife, and since her death I confer with my daughter, upon all matters of any moment." " I think, Richard, you had better follow the Judge's counsel in this business implicitly; his opin ions are certainly sound on the woman question," said Isabel, laughing. " Undoubtedly, I shall," replied Richard. " What conclusion have you come to, Sir, in regard to Suydam? " " I hear nothing against him, except that he has a disreputable clientage ; but I conclude that he is not a person to whom I should entrust any very large interests." "So we have concluded, Sir," said Richard. "Miss Lamson and I are both greatly interested in Mrs. Alger, and we would be much pleased if you would undertake this business go to London, and protect the rights of that lady. Your time we know to be valuable , but I will respond to any fee you may name." " It is not so much the fee, Mr. Thorndike," re sponded the Judge, " as the impossibility of my get ting away. However, I can send one of my partners, who will follow closely my instructions, and do the business as well as I could. I will vouch for his integrity, which is the main thing needed in the cir cumstances of this case." " Very well, Sir, that will be satisfactory," said Richard. " I suppose that you will advise me to with draw my offer to Suydam, on the ground that I have decided to send my own attorney." 238 THE LAST OF THE THOKNDIKES. " I should do so," he replied. " The only danger to Mrs. Alger's interest is from a possible combination between the man, Shepherd, and Mrs. Cravan to break the will. In view of that, it is important that you should not aid Suydam to get to London." As the Judge turned to leave the room the office- boy entered, asking for Mr. Ketchum. That gentle man came to the door of the inner-apartment, and, glancing at the card the lad handed him, he said, " It is the Rev. Dr. Ludlow. He is the pastor of my church, and my intimate friend. I should like very much to introduce him to you." " Is he of the English church ? " asked Mrs. Lam- son. " Yes, Madam the Episcopal church." " And does he give you very much of what my hus band used to call ' hot drops ' ? " "Oh! no, Madam," answered Mr. Ketchum; "his medicine is very mild, and he contrives to make it quite palatable." " Then I think he may do for us. We are not over- pious, Mr. Ketchum, but we like sensible clergymen. Ask him in at once." Mrs. Lamson having assumed an upright position, the clergyman was ushered into the inner room. He was a brilliant conversationalist, and interested and entertained Mrs. Lamson greatly. After laughing heartily at one of his anecdotes, she said to Richard, " If the Doctor preaches as well as he talks, Richard, it will be worth while to hear him. Had we not bet ter go to his church next Sunday?" THE REVEREND MR. SHEPHERD. 239 " Certainly, Mother, if you desire to," answered Richard. Dr. Ludlow glanced from him to her as if to trace the family resemblance, and then said, " I was not aware, Madam, that Mr. Thorndike was your son ? " " Oh, yes ! " said Mrs. Lamson, " he is the best and only boy I ever had." " It must be a great comfort to you, Madam, to have both your children with you both Mr. Thorn- dike and Miss Lamson." As the worthy clergyman said this, it was evident that he had already found Mrs. Lamson guilty of a first and second husband. " It is, Sir," she answered, "a great comfort. Bella is the best daughter a mother ever had, and Richard the best son. They both think more of me than they do of themselves." " It is very beautiful to see such family affection," said the Doctor. " You know it is ' the only bliss of Paradise that has survived the fall.' " " I don't know about the ' fall,' Doctor," replied Mrs. Lamson. " My husband was of opinion it had been more of a progress up, than a tumble down; but I am quite sure there is more of that sort of bliss in China even among the heathen than in this Chris tian country." " That comes, I imagine, from your being thrown so much together, and having no other society," said the Doctor. "That may have an influence upon us, Christians," replied Mrs. Lamson, " but it doesn't effect the native Chinese. They are thicker than bees in a hive. I 240 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. think it is owing to our living nearer to nature being less hemmed around with conventionality than you are. We abominate cant and sham, always speak the truth, and call things by their right names." " Of course we do, Sir," said Isabel, laughing. " Mother did when she told you that Richard was her son, and he, when he called her ' Mother ; ' he being neither her son nor my brother. But, Sir, he is just the same to us as if he were." " Well," rejoined the Doctor, " the relation is a very pleasant one to witness. I shall be delighted to know you better, and trust you will allow me to call upon you." " Most certainly, Sir," said Mrs. Lamson. " Any friend of Mr. Ketchum will be always welcome with us." At this point in the conversation a card was handed in to Richard on which was written. "Mr. Chauncey Shepherd, of London, desires a short interview with Mr. Thorndike, on an important subject." He handed the card to Isabel, saying, " It is about that affair, Bella ; and I would like to have you hear what he has to say." Then, as they rose to leave the room, he said to the clergyman. " You will excuse us, Sir, if we withdraw for a little while. I shall be glad to meet you again at any time, either here or at our lodgings." Closing the inner door behind them, they then resumed their previous seats in the outer room, and Mr. Shepherd was ushered into the apartment. He was of about fifty years, faultlessly attired, and there THE REVEREND MR. SHEPHERD. 241 was about him that indefinable air which denotes good breeding ; but his face wore a dissipated, somewhat jaded look, the result, no doubt, of a merely animal life, and long habits of self-indulgence. He gave a courteous greeting to Richard, and a more ceremonious one to Isabel, saying to her, " It is many years since we met, Miss Lamson ; but you appear not to have grown a day older." " You are too complimentary, Sir," replied Isabel, " for I am several years older. 1 ' " Pray be seated, Mr. Shepherd," said Richard. " To what am I indebted for this visit? " " I was not aware, Mr. Thorndike, that you were in town until this morning," he replied, giving no heed to the distant manner of both Isabel and Rich ard. " I was told of your arrival by Mrs. Cravan, who informs me that she has spoken with you upon a mat ter in which she and I are mutually interested. I shall feel obliged, if you will allow me a few minutes conversation on that subject privately." " You can speak freely before Miss Lamson, Sir," replied Richard. " She feels as deep an interest in this affair as I do, and whatever action I may take about it will be with her approval." " Then, I will speak with entire openness to both of you," said Mr. Shepherd, with much apparent frank- ness. " I arrived in New York by the steamer three weeks ago, and after about a week of inquiry, learned the whereabouts of Mrs. Cravan, who, as Alice Pritchett, I knew to be the only sister of James Pritchett Alger, who was known until he left this 16 242 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. country, as simply James Pritchett. I brought her information that her brother had died, leaving her a large legacy, and I told her that he had also named me in his will to the extent of some ten thousand pounds. I then proposed that she should employ me as her attorney to collect her legacy, and allow me a small fee, and the expenses I had been at in coming to this country to bring her good fortune to her notice. She was overjoyed at the intelligence ; but she hesi tated to accede to my suggestion, on account as I suppose of my being a stranger to her. At any rate, she asked me to call upon her on the following day. I did so, when she requested that I should go with her to her lawyer, a Mr. Suydam, who after question ing, and cross-questioning, me on the subject, proposed to accompany me to London, at his own cost and charges, he to represent Mrs. Cravan, but to reimburse me for my expenses, and to allow me the fee I had stipulated for, when the legacy should have been realized. That was a fortnight ago, and two steamers have since sailed for Liverpool ; but Mr. Suydam has failed to go, because he has been unable to raise the paltry five hundred dollars needed for his expenses. I called on Mrs. Cravan this morning to urge speedy action, and she told me, very curtly, that she had now no need of my services, inasmuch as she had arranged to go herself with Mr. Suydam, and that you were to furnish the funds for their expenses. I have called upon you, Mr. Thorndike, to assure you that if you do this, you will be instrumental in doing a great wrong to Mrs. Alger a most estimable lady for their inten- THE REVEREND MR. SHEPHERD. 243 tion is to break the will, and seize upon the entire property." " But, can they break the will? " asked Richard. " I think they might, Sir," answered Mr. Shepherd, " for at intervals during more than a year before he executed it, Alger was non-compos mentis^ and totally unfit to attend to business. This was the result of long habits of dissipation, which, towards the close of his life, increased to such a degree that he was well- nigh beastly." " But was not that lady his wife ? " inquired Rich ard. " She would have been in this country, Sir : she was not in England." " And why not in England? " " To answer that, Sir," said Mr. Shepherd, with a prodigal-son tone of voice, " requires me to publish my own shame ; but I will do it, that you may know all the facts. It was a mock marriage. I know it, Sir, for I myself performed the ceremony. I take shame to myself for it ; but Pritchett and I were very inti mate friends, and I desired to oblige him. It was, Sir, one of the errors of my youth, which I have ever since most deeply regretted." " I knew it had been so!", exclaimed Isabel. "I knew that poor lady had been foully wronged, and was as pure as an angel." " She was and is embodied purity, Miss Lamson/' said Shepherd, warmly. " I never knew so angelic a woman." " But," said Richard, anxious to keep him to the 244 TIIE LA ST OF THE THORNDIKES. line of inquiry he was pursuing. " I have understood that you were at that time a clergyman of the Church of England. Was not that so ? " " Yes, Sir, it was," answered Shepherd. " I had then been ordained a half-dozen years, and had held two parishes. I am still a clergyman. The evidence of that I have in my pocket." " Are you willing that I should see it ? " asked Richard. " Most certainly, Sir," said Shepherd, drawing from his side pocket a folded paper, and handing it to Richard. "It is a letter I received just previous to leaving London, from my relative, the Bishop of - , in reply to a request I had made for a rectorship, in consequence of my income having been largely cur tailed by the death of Mr. Alger. You will observe that it is addressed to me as the Rev. Chauncey Shepherd, and that it bears the seal of the Bishopric." " And in it the Bishop offers you a curacy, and promises further advancement as soon as circum stances permit," said Richard, handing the letter to Isabel. " Will you allow me to retain this, to show to my counsel ? ' "You can keep it altogether, Mr. Thorndike," said Shepherd. " It is of no value to me. I replied to it before leaving London." " Is not a license necessary to a marriage in England ?'' " Yes, Sir," answered the clergyman, " and we had one, and the lady has it now. She would not have consented to the marriage without it." THE REVEREND MR. SHEPHERD. 24$ " And is not a marriage performed under license, and by a clergyman, as valid in England as in this country ? " " I take it that it is invalid there when the clergy man is in disgrace, and, a dozen times within the year, before the police-court for drunkenness, and disorderly conduct. That, unfortunately, Sir I am speaking very frankly to you was my condition at that period." "You were in disgrace, but not actually suspended or, as I think you call it disrobed ? " said Richard. "No, Sir," he answered. "I was never disrobed. I have always stood well enough on the records of the Church though for many years I have not preached." " When was this lady led to suppose that the mar riage was not a legal ceremony? " asked Isabel. I think it was about eight years ago, when her daughter was about nine years old. It was a brutal thing in Alger to tell her ; but I think he had then in mind to marry some other lady. It nearly broke the poor woman's heart." Isabel leaned over the arm of her chair, and whis pered to Richard, " It was about that time that he asked Father's permission to pay his addresses to me, when he should have returned from London to Hong Kong." Richard smiled, and then said to Mr. Shepherd, " Allow me to ask, Sir, how you know that it is Mrs. Cravan's intention to break the will ? " . " She intimated to me in pretty direct terms that she should attempt to do so." 246 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. " But doesn't she know doesn't her lawyer tell her that if the will should be annulled, Mr. Alger's wife and daughter would inherit the entire property, and she be cut off from her legacy?" " No, Sir, because she is aware that Mrs. Alger was not Alger's legal wife, and that, consequently, her daughter is illegitimate, and cannot inherit." " How did she come to know that ? " " Well, Sir I think," answered Shepherd, hesitat ingly, " I think I intimated to her that the marriage would not bear investigation let the idea drop in an incidental way." Of course," said Richard, "she would not have known the fact if you had not told her though I do not believe it to be a fact. Will you tell me now, Mr. Shepherd, what fee you proposed to charge Mrs. Cravan for collecting' her legacy?" " The usual fee in such cases I don't know what it is exactly, but I suppose about one per cent that, and my expenses, some six hundred dollars or so." "And do you ask me to believe, Mr. Shepherd," said Richard, " that you have crossed the Atlantic, at an expense of six hundred dollars, to get three thou sand from a woman you had no knowledge of, and who might be dead for aught you knew ? " " I am not acquainted with business, Mr. Thorn- dike," said Shepherd, "I never undertake it without doing some foolish thing." " Well, Sir," said Richard, " you did a very foolish thing when you undertook to deceive me in this matter. With all your effusive frankness you have THE REVEREND MR. SHEPHERD. 247 kept from me the most important fact in this whole business, and that fact is, that you left England with the deliberate purpose to find the American heirs, and by colluding with them to break Mr. Alger's will. All of a fortnight ago, you and Mrs. Cravan and the lawyer, Suydam, plotted together to rob that poor lady and her daughter, and divide the proceeds between you. That is the intention of those two now, and it would be yours, if you were not satisfied they were playing you false. I have no sort of ques tion that they are, and that Mrs. Cravan is at this moment chuckling over the thought that by hypocrit ical professions of friendship, she has cajoled a green youth into furthering her nefarious scheme. And you would have succeeded, but for an important fact which you both have overlooked namely, that a just God has something to say in the affairs of this world. The singular manner in which the knowledge of this intended rascality has been brought to me, I regard as a clear intimation that Providence has laid it upon me to thwart the scheme, and protect Mrs. Alger to the uttermost. And I shall do that most cheerfully, feeling that I am doing God's service ; for I fully believe that lady to have been Alger's wife by the laws of both God and man. Now, Sir, you and Mrs. Cravan can proceed to break the will as soon as you are disposed. I shall do nothing to prevent it, for I think you both deserve to be punished. The cheapest course is to let you punish yourselves, and you will do that, for you will find that breaking the will is not annulling the marriage, and you will have to do that 248 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. before you can touch a dollar of Alger's property. You cannot annul the marriage. If in your blunder ing rascality you did make some technical flaw in the legal formalities, no judge or jury in all England would dare to abet such an outrageous fraud upon an innocent woman. I have already consulted the ablest counsel, and shall send my own attorney to London by the next steamer to protect the interest of Mrs. Alger, and I shall expend whatever money or time may be necessary to defend her rights. I shall tell Mrs. Cravan's lawyer that he has only to proceed in this business to deprive his client of her legacy, and consign her last days to an alms-house. Now, Sir, I have been more frank with you than you have been with me and I think we need say nothing more on this subject." While he listened to these remarks Mr. Shepherd's face had assumed every conceivable color. At times it was white, at times red, and then of a ruddy purple the hue of the stagnant alcohol which slept in his veins, and had rushed to the surface to blush with shame over the misdeeds of this reprobate clergyman. At first he felt incapable of either defence or explana tion, but at last the little honesty that was in him asserted itself, and casting down his eyes, he said, deliberately, " You have remarkable discernment, Mr. Thorndike. I did agree to break the will, and divide the proceeds with Mrs. Cravan. I was tempted to it by the fact that my income is so much reduced by the death of Alger, that it does not nearly meet my expenses. I could not endure the thought of again THE REVEREND MR. SHEPHERD. 249 going into the Church I felt it would be defying God himself for a man like me to preach of Gospel so, I was tempted to this crime." " I think you are right as to your fitness for the pulpit," said Richard, in a tone slightly flavored with pity ; " but tell me, why was it that Alger allowed you an income four times larger than the legal interest of your money ?" " Because, Sir, my money, and the avails of a crime he had committed, started him in business. I knew of that crime, and until within a few years, when it was outlawed I could have secured his conviction as a felon. He held the ten thousand pounds I had in herited to that extent I was in his power. I had the evidence of his crime in my hands, so he was in mine. I held my peace for the sake of my money, and he was liberal to me to secure my silence." " But did you not know that Alger was good, and you could easily collect the money?" "I could not collect it," replied Shepherd. "In my ignorance of business I had failed to take any evidence of the debt, and afterwards he refused to give me any. But I trusted that if he died, he would provide for me ; and besides, I was not anxious to be paid so long as I received four times the legal income of my money. Perhaps I should be justly punished if I now lost it ; but Mr. Thorndike, I can do essential service in securing that lady her rights, and I will do it, if you will assure me that I shall have what is justly my due. "You can't expect me to trust you, Mr. Shep- 250 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. herd," answered Richard, " and I am now convinced the marriage can be sustained without your help. But, I will say that if you do what you can to pro mote a just settlement of the estate, I shall feel bound whether the will is broken or not to advise Mrs. Alger to allow your legacy to be paid." " You need not fear, Sir," said Shepherd. " My interest will make me faithful to you." "Very well," answered Richard; "then meet my counsel here at ten o'clock to-morrow. Meanwhile, I would suggest that you see Mrs. Cravan, and enlighten her upon the fact that I do not propose to pay the expenses of her trip to Europe." When the Rev. Mr. Shepherd had left the office, Richard said to Isabel, " Bella, dear, the devil always overreaches himself. That man can collect his ten thousand pounds, whether the will is broken or not ; for Alger has acknowledged the debt by the very terms of the legacy. Shepherd does not know that, and it was not my business to tell him." " Ah ! Richard," she answered, " I am so, so proud of you." Opening the door of the inner room a moment later, they found Mrs. Lamson in a gale of laughter. The good clergyman had been drawing upon his bud get of humorous anecdote, and the time passed so swiftly that neither Mrs. Lamson, nor Mr. Ketchum, had noted its passage. When Dr. Ludlow rose to take his leave Mrs. Lamson said to him, " We hope to soon be in our own house. Then you must come to see us often, and we shall attend your church, if THE REVEREND MR. SHEPHERD. 2$ I you do not put too many ' hot drops ' into your ser mons." On their way up town they called at the house which the ladies had already examined. When they had gone entirely over it, and had returned to the library, Isabel said to Richard, " Come into the little room, Richard. Here we can resume the studies I have missed so much." When they rejoined Mrs. Lamson, she said to them, " Now, children, I will buy and pay for this establish ment, and make you a Christmas present of it, if you will let me write your two names in the deed together. You know what I mean, my dears." "/do, Mother," answered Richard. "That matter rests altogether with Bella." " Richard and I will talk it over by ourselves, Mother," said Isabel. " Father has not yet been dead a year." CHAPTER XVI. A COUNTERFEIT PRESENTMENT. As has been said, young Thorndike early formed reasonably clear conceptions of religious truth, and acquired a firm faith in the divine authorship of Christianity. This faith was at first merely an intel lectual conviction ; but as, day by day, the Christ dawned upon him in His transcendent purity, beauty, and grandeur, the light fell within upon his own soul, and, his own moral nature being revealed to him, he realized those words of Job, " I have heard of thee by the hearing of the ear; but now mine eye seeth thee.; wherefore I abhor myself, and repent in dust and ashes." At this period he passed long hours in Gethsemane. struggling with his inherited tendencies. His eye was single, his heart was right, the spirit within him was eager, but the flesh was weak. An innocent child caged in a den of wild beasts, and feebly contending against their fury, might have been, at this time, an image of his soul, loving truth singly, but torn contin ually by the passions of the animal nature with which it was environed. For long he trod the wine-press alone trod it till his feet were weary, his heart was faint, and he sank exhausted in the thick darkness. A COUNTERFEIT PRESENTMENT. 253 He had struggled bravely with the evil within and without him ; but he had struggled in his own strength, and in that conflict no man, unaided, ever came off a conqueror. At last, nerveless and powerless, he went to Isabel, who, with fleeter foot had already scaled the spiritual heights whence only comes the life-giving power that can uplift the weary and sin-laden. " Bella," he said to her, " will you not pray for me ? " She led him into the little study where they had so often sat together, and falling with him upon her knees, asked the dear Lord to dispel his darkness, and bring him out into his own marvellous light. And even as she prayed, the clouds about him broke away, and the light streamed in upon his soul. Thus she, his temptation, became his angel of blessing ; and so she led him, day by day, up those spiritual heights, till he came out at last under the clear sky, where the noonday sun is ever shining. And thus he grew into a vital union with Christ, seeking ever for clearer spiritual light, but more earnestly striving to follow the footsteps of the Master in his daily walk among men ; regarding religion not as a creed, but as a life ; and this world but the preparatory school for a higher world where, freed from the trammels of the body, the soul shall progress in love, and in likeness to Christ forever. As they sat at breakfast together on the Sunday following the events narrated in the preceding chap ter, Richard said to Mrs. Lamson, " Mother : it is a bright, sunshiny day shall we not attend Dr. Lud- low's church this morning-?" 254 THE LAST OF THE TIIORNDIKES. "Oh, yes, Richard," she answered. "We must not forsake our good ways : besides, I think we shall like the Doctor." They went early to secure seats, for they were told that Dr. Ludlow drew such audiences that at times even standing-room, was not obtainable. While wait ing in the vestibule, admiring the interior of the gor geous edifice, they were accosted by the sexton, who, bowing politely, said, " I presume this is Mr. Thorn- dike." On being told that his presumption was correct, he added, " The Doctor told me to keep a lookout for you, Sir, I will show you to a slip where you'll not be disturbed." The pew was in the body of the church, about half way down the aisle the very best location for hearing the preacher, and seeing the congregation. This last was a consideration with Mrs. Lamson, for having been hidden for a quarter of century among a crowd of heathen, she was curious to know how a thousand and more civilized people would appear, when gathered to gether, and arrayed in purple and fine linen. Soon the congregation began to pour in at the doors, and Mrs. Lamson's eyes became fully engaged, for it was a gorgeous spectacle. The men were faultlessly attired, the women arrayed in silks, satins, and laces, and, some of them, bearing upon their persons enough value in precious stones to fully provision several scores of poor families for a twelvemonth. It was not long be fore every seat was filled, and people were standing in the aisles near the doorways. The doors were then A COUNTERFEIT PRESENTMENT. 255 closed, for it was a chilly March morning, and soon the service was opened by Dr. Ludlow. The scripture sentences had been read, the open ing prayers said, the anthem sung, and Richard had risen with the congregation to repeat the Psalter, when suddenly his eye fell upon a face in a pew a short distance away, which riveted his gaze, sent the blood back to his heart, and forced him to clutch the rail in front of him for support. " What is it, Richard ? " whispered Isabel, as she grasped his arm tightly. " Charlotte ! " he answered, in the same low tone. Her eye followed the direction of his gaze, and she saw the same face she had seen in the miniature he had shown her, when, nearly six years before, they were about to go on board of the " Cleopatra." Every feature was the same, the golden hair, the large hazel eyes, the transparent complexion, lit up now like some fleecy cloud behind which the rising sun is shining. He sank to his seat, and said to Isabel, " I can't breathe, Bella. I am stifling. I must have air." " I will go out with you, dear," she said. Still holding him by the arm, she whispered to her mother, " Richard has a sudden attack ; but don't worry, it is nothing. I'll go with him, but you stay, till the ser vice is over." As they rose to leave the pew, Richard looked again at the young woman, whose face at the moment was turned fully towards him. Their eyes met, and, gazing intently at her, he smiled. She observed this, but she gave no answering smile, nor any sign of 256 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. recognition. Isabel still holding him by the arm, he walked with an uncertain step, out to the doorway. He was dazed. He could scarcely think connectedly. His heart beat with a slow, leaden thump, and the grip which seized him when he heard of her death, seemed again closing upon him. " Do the dead come back ? " he thought. " No ; but this is Charlotte, and here has been some terrible mistake." These ideas in his mind, he reached the door with Isabel. The kindly sexton was there, and he said to him, " You are ill, Sir. Can I help you ? " "Yes," said Richard ; "tell me who is that lady?" and he pointed her out to him from the doorway. "That lady ?" repeated the sexton. "Oh! yes, I see who you mean. That is Miss Murray," adding as they passed out into the vestibule, " She is the daugh ter of Mr. Robert Murray, the banker. They are constant attendants here have been for many years." " You see it was all a mistake, dear ; " said Bella ; " But we had better go home." Then to the sexton she added, " Will you be good enough to call a car nage ; and when the service is over, if ours is not here, will you please see that our mother is provided with one." The grip had passed off, and Richard breathed more freely ; but still he was faint and dizzy, and his step had none of its usual firmness when he entered the carriage. Isabel sat beside him, her arm partly supporting his head, and they rode along in silence, she pondering this incident which had been to her a revelation. If the counterfeit presentment of his A COUNTERFEIT PRESENTMENT. dead love, had so stirred him to the depths of his soul, could she hope to make him happy by becoming his wife ? Would not the memory of the lost one for ever haunt him, and come between them continually ? Was it not for this that the good angels had held her back inspired her with that strange shrinking when ever he had pressed her to take the step that would be irrevocable? And therefore, was it not far better to live as they were living, till their mother should be taken from them, and they were forced to assume a nearer relation? To this conclusion she came, but with no less love, no less tenderness, no less vivid a conscious ness that she was necessary to him, and he to her, and that their full lives could not be lived except together. When they reached Mrs. Lamson's parlor at the hotel, Isabel sat down by Richard's side upon a lounge, and, taking his head upon her lap, and brush ing away the rumpled hair from his forehead, she said to him, " The dead do not come back, my darling. I wish they did, for then you would be happy. You must wait for her till you go to her in the other life. Until then, I will be the most loving of sisters to you. All that sister ever was to brother, I will be to you. I will love you always with all my soul, and you will love me, with all your soul ; and we will be, just as we are now, all in all to one another." On the following morning Dr. Ludlow called at the office of Lamson & Co., and, being shown into Rich ard's room, expressed concern at his having been obliged to leave the church before the services were 17 258 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. over. " It was nothing serious," answered Richard, " only a slight attack of faintness. I was all right again within an hour. By the way, Sir, I observed at church a young lady who bears a striking resemblance to an old acquaintance of mine, who died some years ago. I am told that her name is Murray, a daughter of Mr. Robert Murray. May I ask you how I can obtain an introduction to her? " " I will be glad to give you one myself," replied the Doctor. " I know the family intimately. The young lady has grown up from childhood under my eye. I will call on her with you at any time this evening, if it is convenient to you." " Thank you ; it will be entirely convenient." " Then, I will be at your hotel at seven and a half o'clock precisely." The good man soon afterwards took his leave, probably to go direct to Miss Murray to apprise her of their intended coming, and to hint that she should be arrayed in her finest apparel, for her pretty face had attracted the attention of the brilliant young millionaire, Richard Thorndike. On a nearer view the young man found the young woman wonderfully like his early affianced. The resemblance was not merely in form, feature, and complexion, but also in voice, manner, the pose of the head, and, indeed, in every movement. Could Char lotte have risen from her grave, just as she was when he last saw her, she would have been no nearer like her natural self than was this young lady. But the resemblance extended no farther than out- A COUNTERFEIT PRESENTMENT. 259 ward appearance. One interview is not enough to gauge a character, but Richard very soon detected that this young woman was self-conscious and de cidedly worldly, with a mind that merely skimmed over the surface of things, and never had gone, with any one subject, to the bottom. Such a woman could have no special charm for him, even as a slight acquaintance ; but he thought she might be service able to Isabel in finding avenues for her long-accus tomed work for the Master. Therefore, he invited Miss Murray to call upon his mother and sister, when they should be domiciled in their own residence. He was in fine spirits, and, graceful and cultivated as he was, he rendered himself very agreeable. It was easy to see that the young lady was charmed with him, and he was not surprised that when he rose to take his leave, she should invite him to call again, and con tinue the acquaintance. On his return to his hotel he gave Isabel and her mother his impressions of his new acquaintance, and mentioned to Isabel that Miss Murray might be the means of introducing her to work that would be con genial ; but with this the young lady passed from his mind until the following Saturday. Then, on going home to his midday lunch, he found her with Isabel and Mrs. Lamson in the dining-room of their new residence. After the usual greetings had been ex changed, and they were seated together at the table, Miss Murray said to him, " Are you not home early, Mr. Thorndike? My father seldom leaves his office before four o'clock." 260 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. " Nor, just now, do I," answered Richard, "except on Wednesdays and Saturdays. On those days I come home to lunch, because my mother and sister are here alone among strangers. Besides, we are accustomed to being much together, and after a little time I hope to be here daily at our old-fashioned three o'clock dinner." "How delightful that will be," exclaimed Miss Murray. " What a model son and brother you are, Mr. Thorndike." After some unimportant remarks they retired to the library, where Richard, seating him self in the window of an alcove, listened in silence to a prolonged description, given by Isabel to Miss Mur ray, of life among the Chinese. As Isabel now and then noted him she observed that his eyes had a dreamy, far-away look, but that not one movement or expression of the visitor escaped him. It was four o'clock when Miss Murray rose to leave, saying that she was her father's housekeeper, and must be at home in time to give attention to his din ner. Then she invited Isabel and Mrs. Lamson to come to a meeting at her father's house of a society of the ladies of Dr. Ludlow's church, on the follow ing Wednesday. Isabel and her mother went to the meeting, and passed a very pleasant afternoon ; and on the following Saturday, on coming home to lunch, Richard found Miss Murray again seated at their dining-table. She remained during the afternoon, being entertained mostly by Isabel, while Richard was seated as before in the alcove, taking scarcely any part A COUNTERFEIT PRESENTMENT. 261 in the conversation, but allowing no gesture of the visitor to escape his observation. As Richard had predicted, Miss Murray proved decidedly useful to Isabel. She opened to her many avenues of usefulness, and introduced her to some of the most charming people in New York society. Soon callers became frequent at the Lamson residence, and it was not long before the ladies and Richard had fre quent invitations out to social gatherings. On such occasions Richard, who was a brilliant talker, and fond of mixed society, was the life and soul of the evening. But on Wednesday and Saturday afternoons, which now were pretty sure to find Miss Murray on a visit to Isabel, he was reserved and silent, seldom speaking, but always, from his seat in the alcove, watching every movement of the visitor. This close observation and these fits of abstraction, did not escape the notice of Isabel ; and at last, when they had continued for all of three months, they gave her so much alarm that she finally spoke of them to Richard, putting, as we shall see, for the first time in her life, a wrong interpretation upon his actions. It was towards the close of June, and they were to go in a few days to pass the hot season in the old house at Dorchester, when as Isabel and Richard were one evening alone together in the library, he re clining on a lounge, she seated near by, she said to him, " Richard, Miss Murray is a beautiful young woman." "She is, Bella," he answered, "and her resemblance to Charlotte is so strong that, when I am not listening 262 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. to her conversation, I can fancy that it is Charlotte who is talking with you." "And do you think she resembles Charlotte in other respects ? " she asked. " Not at all," he answered. " No two persons could be more unlike." " I am glad to hear it," said Bella, with more severity than he had ever heard in her voice before, " for Miss Murray is selfish, shallow, mercenary, worldly, and without the smallest particle of even fashionable religion. I have studied her closely, and I know I am not mistaken. Shall I tell you something more ? " "Yes, dear," he answered, looking at her with sur prise. " But pardon me, my darling, if I say that I never heard you speak in that tone of any one before." " I never had occasion to," said Isabel. " I never before met a person who was all pretense and no reality. Shall I tell you what else I would say ? " " Certainly, dear. It is music to me to hear your voice, whatever you say." " Then," said Isabel, in the same hard tone, " she is scheming to marry you. She thinks you handsome, manly, brilliant, cultivated, a fine gentleman, and, better than all, a millionaire ; and she means to be the mistress of your mansion, the dispenser of your bounty, a leader of the ton, a bright particular star in that small galaxy of good women who give large sums to good uses, and so gain, as they think, the smile of the Lord, and what they deem quite as important A COUNTERFEIT PRESENTMENT. 263 the admiration of the great world, and ' our best society.' ' " Why, Bella dear," he said, in a gentle tone, rising from his recumbent position and looking tenderly at her, " What in the world has taken possession of you? " "Oh! Richard!'' she cried, falling at his knees, and clasping her arms about him, " I love you I would die for you. You can't be happy with that false, shallow woman. You have promised to marry me whenever I should be ready I am ready now and I ask you now, for I would save you from a life of wretchedness with that hypocritical woman." He lifted her from the floor, drew her upon the lounge by his side, and held her closely to him, as he said, " Those are the sweetest words I ever heard, Bella. You are dearer to me than all the world besides. Nothing is wanting to make me entirely happy, but to have you for my own." " I always believe what you say, Richard," said Bella, twining her arms about his neck, while tears rolled down her cheeks ; " but why why, if you love me so, have you sat and watched that woman by the hour together? drinking in her every word, and seem- ing as if you were in some delicious dream." " I ivas dreaming, my darling," he answered, " I didn't hear a word she said. Her every look and movement recalled to me my happy past and it was happy, Bella. I was away again in my old home with Charlotte. Sometimes we were little children, coast ing down the long hill together ; sometimes, roaming 264 THE LAST OF THE THORND1KES. hand and hand through the old woods, gathering berries and wild flowers ; and then sometimes we were older, sitting together in the summer-house where you sat with me and mother, or under the grape-vine that covered her father's western veranda ; and sometimes, too, we were kneeling together in her father's library, as we were the last time we met, when she put the little locket, that you have seen, about my neck, and this ring upon my finger, and called me her husband, and I called her my wife. All this came back to me, darling, as I sat there, and watched that young woman's face ; but I did not see her, I did not hear her it was Charlotte that I saw and heard. But, even Charlotte I did not love any better than I love you, Bella ; nor did she love me any better than you love me ; nor, perhaps, so well, for she thought I belonged to her, that I was hers by natural right and you don't think that, dear Bella, and yet, you love me so well." " It may be that I shall think so when I am your wife," she answered. "It is that feeling which has held me, Richard ; but it may go away when I am irrevocably yours." "And you will be irrevocably mine?" he asked. "Yes, dear," she answered, smiling through her tears. " As mother has suggested about Christmas time. Then father will have been dead rather more than a year." CHAPTER XVII. A RESURRECTION OF THE DEAD. THE few weeks that Isabel passed in the old home of the Thorndikes were probably the happiest she had ever experienced. The man whom her father had loved, whom her mother idolized, and who was her own ideal of all that is high and noble in manhood, was soon to be bound to her for all their earthly time, by a tie that was indissoluble. For long she had shrunk from this nearer relation, because of a settled conviction that she was not his companion soul, and at the last, had herself demanded it only to save him, as she thought, from being entrapped into a life of wretchedness. But now that the irrevocable word had been spoken, there no longer came to her an undefined dread when she thought of Charlotte, a vague thought that she might be taking what was not her own. The past and the future were both swallowed up in the joy of the present in a delicious dream of loving and being loved. Isabel saw, too, that the little word she had spoken had awakened in Richard not only a stronger affection for her, but given him also a deeper joy in existence. She no longer saw in him the unrestful mood, the reaching forth for external excitement, which she had 266 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. occasionally observed ever since they had made known to each other their mutual affection. She seemed to have brought a serener happiness into his life, and the thought that she had done this, so overcame her at times with joy, that she would go alone to her chamber, and there upon her knee^, and with grateful tears, thank the dear Lord who had enabled her to bring so much hope and blessing into his lonely life. But, did she feel for him that absorbing passion which is called " love ? " If we look back at their inter course we shall perceive that the first feeling he awak ened in her was admiration for the manly courage which had saved her life ; then came pity at seeing him staggering under a blow that nearly parted his soul from his body ; then followed the high order of com radeship felt by kindred spirits who think the same thoughts, and labor together for the same exalted ends; then that spirit of absolute self-sacrifice born in her from her father which finds delight in giving to another of its life, and, more especially finds it, in bearing toil, and pain, and suffering for one in whom it sees, or thinks it sees, all the elements that most adorn human nature. Very high are these feelings, very pure, very ennobling; but are they, all combined, that subtle magnetism which draws two souls irresist ibly together, which blends two beings into one, so that whether apart or together, they live in and by one another, each being to the other the all of life, and the centre of existence? If God " at the beginning made them male and female," and " they twain are one flesh," such twin spirits must exist, but were these two, A RESURRECTION OF THE DEAD. 267 dreaming there that delicious dream of early man hood and womanhood, such companion souls ? We shall see when to that dream shall come its awakening. Richard had been but a few days at the old home stead when word came to him from Mr. Ketchum that the partner of Judge Ellsworth had returned from London, having, after some delay, effected an equita ble settlement of the Alger estate. Anxious to know all the details of the case, but unwilling to leave Mrs. Lamson and Isabel for even a brief visit to New York, he sent for the attorney to come on to Dorchester. The gentleman came, and reported that he had found on the steamer, going out to London, not only Shep herd, but Mrs. Cravan and her attorney, who had, in some way unknown to Shepherd, found the requisite means wherewith to defray their expenses. On his arrival in London the attorney hastened at once to the residence of Mrs. Alger, whom he found living in a beautiful place in the environs of the great city. She was surprised to hear that any danger existed of an attack upon the will, and after the attor ney had secured her confidence, frankly stated that she feared such an attempt might be successful, and that Mr. Alger ten years before, had assured her that their marriage had not been a legal one. From other sources the attorney learned that it would not be diffi cult for Mrs. Cravan's lawyers to establish, by Alger's own partners, that for a year and more previous to his death, he was totally incompetent to transact busi ness, therefore, the whole case hung upon the legal- 268 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. ity of his marriage with Georgiana Saltas, whom in his will he styled his " reputed wife." Fortunately, Mrs. Alger had carefully preserved the marriage license, and also a marriage certificate, duly signed by Chaun- cey Shepherd, as a clergyman of the Church of Eng land ; and these the attorney lost no time in submit ting to Sir Charles Banister, one of the most eminent chamber-counsellors of the London Bar, who, after hearing the collateral circumstances, at once pro nounced the marriage valid, and absolutely impreg nable. Before the attorney left the steamer he became sat isfied that a secret understanding existed between Mrs. Cravan and Shepherd, to act together in attack ing the will ; and his first interview with Shepherd after his arrival in London, satisfied him that the latter had discovered that his ten thousand pounds were in no sort of jeopardy, inasmuch as Alger had admitted the debt by the very wording of his will. Hence, Shepherd had all to gain and nothing to lose ; and the result was that his sympathy for that " angelic woman," as he was accustomed to style Mrs. Alger, went to the winds, and he openly employed the same London counsel as Mrs. Cravan, and gave her all the aid he could in gathering evidence of Alger's incom- petency. Thus affairs stood when Judge Ellsworth's partner, with the written opinion of Sir Charles Banister, and the original documents establishing the legality of the marriage, in his hands, called upon the counsel for Mrs. Cravan. After submitting to them the several A RESURRECTION OF THE DEAD. 269 papers, he said, " Now, gentlemen, I have frankly shown you our case. We rest on the fact of a legal marriage. If you proceed to attack the will, we shall not defend it. The result will be, you will break it, and your client will lose her rights under it that is, three hundred thousand dollars. If you elect to settle at once, and to give us Mrs. Cravan's absolute release from all claim upon her brother's estate, she shall be paid her legacy, for it is Mrs. Alger's desire to carry out her husband's intentions. I shall await your decision at Mrs. Alger's house up to three o'clock to-morrow evening." The following morning brought an offer from Mrs. Cravan's lawyers to release all claim upon the estate on the payment of four hundred thousand dollars that being the amount of the joint legacies to Mrs. Cra- van and her daughter. The last Mrs. Cravan could not legally claim, because Alger had conveyed it simply to Charlotte Wilder, without the usual addendum of "her heirs and assigns," so that, in case of her death, it was not inheritable by her mother, but reverted to the estate, and was added to the residuary legacy. Mrs. Alger would have assented to this proposal had not the New York attorney opposed it strenuously, say ing, " She is a bad a very bad woman. Let us carry out strictly your husband's intentions^-do her justice, but give her no mercy." The result was that the estate was speedily settled on the basis of the will ; and when this had been done the attorney returned to New York, his expenses, and his fee a liberal one having been paid by Mrs. Alger. 2/0 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. He was detained in England nearly six weeks, and during the whole of that time, Mrs. Alger insisted upon his making her house his home. He was at a loss for terms sufficiently strong to express his admira tion of that lady and her daughter ; and he said he had never experienced a keener delight than when, with Sir Charles Banister's written opinion in his hand, he told her that her marriage with Alger had been abso lutely legal. Her emotions almost overcame her. She thanked him, and, more especially, she thanked Mr. Thorndike, who, from across the wide Atlantic had stretched out his hand to lift from her soul its great load of sorrow. Surely the doing of such a great kindness had been put into his heart by the Good Providence who watches over the innocent. At some no distant day she hoped to express to him person ally her deep indebtedness. When tlie attorney closed his narration, Isabel said, " Now that sad look will go away from that poor lady's face. Ah ! Richard, ' The blessing of one who was ready to perish has come upon you, and you have made the widow's heart to sing for joy.' " They returned to New York in the latter part of September, and not many days thereafter, Isabel received a note from Miss Murray, which stated that she had just heard of their arrival, and invited her to a meeting of the church society, which would be held that afternoon at her father's house. As it was the annual meeting for the election of officers, there would be a large gathering of ladies, and she hoped that A RESURRECTION OF THE DEAD. 2/1 Isabel and her mother would not fail to come. The meeting would convene at three o'clock, and dinner would be served at six, after which hour gentlemen would be welcomed, and among them she hoped to see Mr. Thorndike. Before replying to the note Isabel handed it to Richard, who in answer to her look of inquiry, said : "You and mother had better go, dear; but don't ask me I have seen enough of that young woman." " But we ought to be civil, my darling," replied Isabel. " If Miss Murray is not what we altogether admire, she has been very useful to us. At any rate, Richard, come for mother and me at seven o'clock ; you need not remain above five minutes. Then we'll return and begin again our studies in the little room." "Very well," he answered, "I am your most obe dient servant." " But, my darling," she said, putting her arms about him, and pressing her lips to his: "do you answer me in such cold business terms?" "No, my sweet one," he replied, " I'll amend them your obedient and loving servant. Do you know, Bella, that I never wrote you a letter in my life?" " Because we have never been a day apart since we first met in China," she answered, her arm still about his neck. " Nor ever shall be," he said, straining her to him, closely. " I promised that to your father, and I shall keep my word." There was a brilliant Catherine: of ladies at the meet- 272 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. ing, and among them many of the shining lights of "our best society "; but of them all none shone quite so resplendent in jewels, laces, and furbelows, as Miss Murray. Her greeting of Isabel and Mrs. Lamson was cordial, even effusive, and she said to Isabel with a complacent air, " There will be many gentlemen here after dinner; I hope your brother will come." " Oh! yes," answered Isabel ; " he'll surely be here. He said he would, and he never breaks his word." She smiled as she said this, for she divined the young lady's secret thoughts on the instant. She knew that she was aware of Richard having regarded her very many times with rapt admiration, and she saw that she had now arrayed herself thus gorgeously to put a fin ishing stroke to her conquest of the brilliant young millionaire. She smiled at the thought of how little the young lady understood the man she was hoping to entrap by a few yards of silk, and not above a dozen tinsel ornaments. The business which had called the ladies together, being concluded, they collected in little knots in various parts of the spacious drawing-rooms, and engaged in conversation. An hour or more had passed in this manner, when Isabel observed a lady seated apart by herself, in an alcove of the rear room, whom no one appeared to notice, and who seemed herself entirely oblivious to the brilliant gathering. She sat with her hands folded upon her lap, and once in a while looked up, but with an unappreciative, abstracted expression, not at all in harmony with the animation and gayety she witnessed. " Who can she be ? " A RESURRECTION OF THE DEAD.- 273 thought Isabel, " so plainly attired, so silent, so out of place in this gay assemblage?" Soon she caught a full view of her face, and something in it struck her strangely. Had she not seen that face before ? But where ? And those eyes ' Oh ' no ; she could never have seen her ; for such eyes, once seen, could never be forgotten. These thoughts came to Isabel as she stood convers ing with a lady near the sliding-doors between the two rooms, but, attracted by those remarkable eyes, she soon moved into the rear apartment,. and seated herself where she had a nearer view of the strange lady. She wore a black dress of some inexpensive material, and about her neck a plain linen collar, having a deep black border. Not a single ornament was upon her person, except a heavy gold chain, attached to what seemed to be a watch in her girdle. She appeared to be about thirty-five years of age ; but her dull auburn hair was thickly streaked with white over and near her temples. Her cheeks were sunken, and her features had the peculiar sharpness that is given by severe chronic suf fering. Her skin was very clear, and so transparent as to well-nigh reveal the very workings of her soul ; but it was her eyes that riveted Isabel's attention. They were large and of a dark hazel, and when turned fully upon Isabel, they thrilled her as with the pathos of some deep tragedy. Some soul-rending history was in those eyes, and yet, it seemed impossible that they could glow with love, burn with indignation, or light up with enthusiasm. The soul behind them appeared to be dead to this world, and all its belongings. They 18 274 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. shone with no lustre, but a soft, subdued light, that shed all its rays inward, though now and then they had a far-away look, as if gazing on scenes not visible to ordinary sight. She had been beautiful, but she was so no longer, except to those who have eyes for that spiritual beauty which falls upon the faces of the good and the pure when they come into the near light of the better country. A sort of spell some irresistible influence attracted Isabel towards this strange lady, and detain ing Miss Murray as she was passing near, she said, " Tell me : who is she ? " " That lady ? " answered Miss Murray. " Oh ! she is a country cousin of ours the daughter of my mother's brother. She teaches school at Lenox, in Berkshire, where we passed the summer, and has returned with us for a short visit." "Won't you introduce me to her? I think she must be strangely interesting." " Well, she is, to those who like silence, and what is called spiritual religion." As the two approached the strange lady she turned her eyes upon them with a faint smile, and rose from her seat with a gentle dignity that was charming to Isabel. " Cousin Charlotte," said Miss Murray ; " this lady is Miss Lamson, recently from China. I think you will like to know her." "Thank you, Mary," said Charlotte. "Pray be seated, Miss Lamson." " Excuse me," said Isabel, taking the proffered chair, " I did not catch the name distinctly." A RESURRECTION OF THE DEAD. 275 " Mary calls me Charlotte my name is Wilder Charlotte Wilder." The blood fled from Isabel's face fled back to her heart, well-nigh suffocating her. Could it be true? Had the dead indeed come back? Was the sweet dream of her life over? It was true. But it was the will of her Heavenly Father ; and, sudden as the blow was, this loving child of His bowed her head in sub mission. For a moment she sat speechless, these thoughts flashing through her. Then with the inward prayer, " Dear Lord, help me, strengthen me, guide me," she turned to meet the realities of her position. " Charlotte Wilder, did you say?" she asked in a tone low, and tremulous with emotion. " Was Alexander Wilder, of Dorchester, your father?" " He was," answered Charlotte, " but you are not well. This hot room is oppressive to you." " It is somewhat," said Isabel, in more of her nat ural voice, " I would like to get away from these peo ple. Will you not come with me into the library ? " It was a corner house, three rooms deep, the library the rearmost of the three, looking out upon a small grass-plat. The sliding-doors connecting this room with the drawing-rooms were closed ; and in the quiet of this apartment Isabel thought she could regain full possession of her faculties, so rudely shaken by this sud den discovery. For she could not doubt that this was Charlotte Wilder. The face and eyes, she saw now that she had heard her name were those of the mini ature ; but oh ! how sadly ravaged by her great sor row. But, true to her unselfish nature, she thought 2/6 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. not now of herself. Her only thought was for them how to break the discovery to Richard and Char lotte, and how to bring those two together without such a shock as might be disastrous to that feeble and wasted woman. As soon as they were seated in the library she said to Charlotte, " My father was an early friend of your father. You may have heard him spoken of, for he was well known among merchants. His name was Israel Lamson. He is dead ; but the house is still called Lamson & Co." " I have heard the firm spoken of," answered Char lotte, speaking slowly, and with evident pain. " A young friend of mine was to have been a partner in that house." " What was his name ? " asked Isabel. " Thorndike Richard Thorndike. You never knew him ; for he was lost at sea, on his way to China." "And have you lived long in Berkshire County?" " About six years. I was taken to Lenox for my health, and I have scarcely been out of the place since I recovered it. ;> " You live there with your father and mother ? " " No. My father is dead, and my mother I have not seen for nearly four years. Our ways in life have parted. She sent me word a little time ago that she was coming to live with me in Lenox, but I wrote her that she had better not come. Quiet is essential to my health, and my mother is not a quiet person." The conversation at this point was interrupted by A RESURRECTION OF THE DEAD. 277 the announcement of dinner. They were seated apart at the table, and did not again meet directly after wards, in consequence of Isabel's going at once to the library, to there, by herself, consider how best to break to those two, who thought each other dead, the intel ligence that they were living. In her anxiety .to save them pain, she forgot the suffering which, like a sharp knife-wound, had pierced, through and through, her own bosom. It lacked but a few minutes of seven o'clock when she left the library, and passing into the hall, took a seat on one of the lower steps of the front stairway. She knew Richard's habit of promptness, and, as she had anticipated, her waiting was short, for she had scarcely taken her position when a ring came at the doorway. Springing forward, she opened the door. It was Richard. His face was glowing, his eye beaming, and it actually sparkled with pleasure when he saw that she had been awaiting his coming. " How good of you, Bella," he said, putting his arm about her. " What man ever had such a treasure as you ! " Then as he pressed his lips to hers, the thought came to her, " How can I give him up to another? " A sharp pang shot through her' ; but she said gently, but firmly, " Come with me, darling, into the library for a moment. Never mind your hat bring it with you." When they reached the library, she said to him, " Richard, you remember that day six years ago, on the Cleopatra did I not then stand by you ? " "You did, dear," he answered. "You are the 278 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. truest, bravest woman in all the world," and as he said this he put his arm again about her. "Well," she said, returning his caress. "I will stand by you again. But you must now be strong in yourself. You will have to control yourself with all your might to avert suffering, perhaps death from another for joy has been known to kill people." "What do you mean, Bella?" he asked. "You talk in riddles." " I mean that Charlotte Wilder is in the next room. I am sure of it, for I have spoken with her." "Charlotte'" he exclaimed, letting fall the arm that held her waist, and taking a step or two back ward. " Charlotte," he repeated. " Alive ! My God ! My God ! " A deathly pallor came upon his face, a sudden, convulsive shiver passed over him, and he sank into a chair, limp and powerless. She went to him, and placing her hand upon his shoulder, said in a half-tender, half-imperious, tone, " Richard, you must be a man. Her reason, perhaps her life, depends upon it. She is worn down with sorrow at your loss ; and if you are not cool, self-col lected, the sudden revelation may be fatal to her. So, darling, for her sake, for my sake, be everyway your self." " I will, Bella," he answered. " But you will not forsake me," he added, taking her again in his arms. " I couldn't live without you, my darling." "You shall not live without me," she answered, gently, brushing away the hair from his forehead. " Whatever comes, I will not forsake you, my darling. A RESURRECTION OF THE DEAD. 279 But let us not think now of ourselves. Let us think of her. She must know this ; but you will need to break it to her very carefully, very gently, or with all that she has endured, it will kill her, or drive her crazy. You are so much changed, that, not expecting to see you, she will not at once know you. Let me call her in here ; then, alter your voice a little, and keep your face at first in the shadow of the curtain. You might ask her about Dorchester people, and so disclose your self gradually." ''But you will be here, my darling," he said, still having his arm about her. "You will not leave me." "I will not, dear," she answered. "But you must be strong in yourself. Oh ! Richard, there has been a terrible crime here. To think that her mother, who knew she was alive, did not tell you, when you were so kind to her ! As sure as God has lightnings they will some day strike that woman. Now, I will go to her. Kiss me, dear, stand there by the mantel, where the curtain will partly hide your face ; the dim light will do the rest. Now, kiss me again, dear, promise me that you will be strong, and all yourself." " I will, my angel." Going then into the drawing-room Isabel told Miss Wilder that a gentleman-friend of hers desired to make some inquiries of her about Dorchester people, and that, to avoid interruption, he begged she would come into the library. They entered the room by the hall door, where the light of the hall chandelier fell full upon Charlotte's worn and wasted features. The face, even the dress, was the same he had, six years be- 280 THE LAST OF THE TIIORNDIKES. fore, seen in his vision. No greater contrast could exist than that he saw between her and Isabel the one radiant in her glowing, but spiritual beauty ; the other of withered form, and features from which every trace of comeliness had departed. But that man's eyes no sooner fell on that woman's face, than his soul bounded to meet her soul. Everything else in life crumbled away at the sight. What to him was fortune or friends, or Bella herselfbeautiful, pure, and loving as she was, compared with that faded, sorrow-marked woman ? Once he had lost her, but now that she was found, nothing in earth,, or sky, or sun, or stars, should keep him from her, who was the mate of his soul, the very heart of his being. Involuntarily he took a step forward to take her in his arms ; but, stepping quickly behind Charlotte, Bella motioned him back, and re called him to himself. Instantly he was self-collected, calm, with nerves as steady, will as firm, and mind as alert, as those of some skilful surgeon, whose hand is feeling along some vital organ where the slightest waver of his keen-edged scalpel, will be instant death t6 his patient. When Charlotte had seated herself upon a lounge, with Isabel by her side, he said to her in a somewhat altered tone. "Pardon me, Miss Wilder, for intrud ing upon you ; but I am told by Miss Lamson that you once lived in Dorchester." " I did live there, Sir," she answered in a placid, half-absent manner, and scarcely looking at him. " I was born there, but I left there several years aero." A RESURRECTION OF THE DEAD. 28 1 " And did you know a family there whose name was Thorndike? " " Oh ! yes," she answered. " They were near neigh bors of ours. I was a great favorite with Uncle Rob ert. I always called him ' uncle,' though we were not related. I loved him very dearly." " Did he not have a nephew a young man named Richard?" he asked, turning his face, involuntarily more directly towards her. " Yes Sir," she answered, with a slight interval be tween the words. "What became of him?" he asked, in a slow and gentle tone, as if feeling his way where he had an un- steadfast footing. She turned her eyes fully upon him, but did not seem to see him, and as if forcing out the words said in broken sentences, " He went to China but died on the way he was lost at sea." " And were you not engaged to him ? Was he not to have been your husband?" She did not answer for a moment , but looked at him fixedly. It was a sort of dazed look, as if her mind was groping its way among long-buried memories. His voice, his face, his manner, were to her like some familiar thing rising suddenly out of the past ; and yet, she could make out nothing distinctly. All was dim and shadowy, revealing no firm outline. " He was my husband," she. said, speaking slowly and dis tinctly. " He is still my husband waiting for me in heaven." His hand trembled, the nerves of his face twitched 282 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. convulsively, but by a strong effort he controlled him self, and putting his hand into an inner pocket of his waistcoat, he drew forth the small gold locket that he had shown to Isabel. It flew open as he touched the spring, and, handing it to her, he asked in a husky voice, " Do you remember that ? " She took it in her hand, gave a sudden start, then, still looking intently at it, as if to assure herself that it was real, she rose to her feet, and in a quick, eager tone, asked, " How did you get this ? Ah ! you were with him ! You were saved he was lost ! What did he say? Tell me! He must have sent some message to me. What was it ? Tell me, Sir for the love of God, tell me ! " While saying this she had clutched his arm with a grip like that of an iron vise, and he had stood power less, utterly unable to speak. But as she uttered the last word he held out his arms, and said in his natural tone of voice, " Lottie dear, dear Lottie don't you know me your own Dickon me, Richard Thorn- dike?" She placed her hands upon his two shoulders, held him at arm's length, and gazed fixedly in his face for a moment, then crying out, " Oh ! Dickon my Dickon ! " she fell into his arms in a dead swoon. Isabel sprang to her feet, and the two bore Char lotte to the lounge. The cry brought several ladies into the room, and Isabel said to them, " Some of you please bring restoratives at once ; the others, be good enough to leave the room. She needs quiet and air." A lady soon returned with the restoratives, and A RESURRECTION OF THE DEAD. 283 while Isabel was applying them, Miss Murray entered the library. " Please open the other window, Miss Murray," said Isabel, " and lock the sliding-doors. Do, keep everybody out." By this time Charlotte showed signs of returning consciousness, and soon she came partially to herself. But her mind was unsettled. She knew him, for she clutched him tightly, as if afraid to let him go, and in a few moments said, " Dear, dear Dickon, I am so glad you have come back. Uncle Rob will be so glad to see you and Ponto, too. The dear old dog goes moaning about the house for you all the day. Dear Dickon kiss me now, and tell me you'll never go away again." He did as she bade him, saying, " Never again, Lottie. I'll never leave you again never." "That is a good Dickon you always were so good. And oh! Dickon, how it grieves me to tell you that our dear Uncle Rob is dead. You know we hoped to be the comfort of his old age. But is it really you, Dickon ? Let me look at you again." Sitting up on the lounge, she held him again at arm's length, and then, with a sudden cry, relapsed into another and a longer swoon. While Isabel was again applying the restoratives, Miss Murray said in a low tone to her, " Why ! did Cousin Charlotte know Mr. Thorndike?" " Know him ! " said Isabel, "she was his wife ; but has thought him dead. She ought to have a physi cian, Miss Murray. Won't you send for one imme diately." 284 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. As she went upon the errand, Miss Murray's gor geous Fifth Avenue mansion dissolved into air into air as thin and unsubstantial as are the hopes and lives of such women. After a time Charlotte came again out of the swoon. She knew Richard, but her mind was away in the dead past with Uncle Rob. " How overjoyed he will be, Dickon," she said ; " to know we are to be married, and to live with him, and you are not going to China. And I won't let you go, Dickon, I'll never let you out of my sight again." Mrs. Lamson now came into the room with Miss Murray, and throwing her arms about Richard, who was standing by the side of Charlotte holding one of her hands, she said to him. " My poor, dear boy ; what a dreadful thing this has been." " Dreadful, Mother, dreadful ! " he said, " Perhaps God can forgive the woman who did it I fear I never can." "Who is that you call Mother, Dickon?" asked Charlotte, " Why you have no mother." "Oh, yes, I have, Lottie," he answered, " and you will love her as I do." " Well, I will, if she loves you," she said " But I am a little tired now, Dickon. Won't you sit upon the lounge, and let me lay my head upon your lap ? It will rest me, darling." She lay thus for awhile in silence, looking up in his face, and scanning its every lineament : then she said, " You are, indeed, my Dickon come back to me from the grave. I never expected to see you till we should A RESURRECTION OF THE DEAD. 285 meet in heaven. And how good it is of God to brin"; o o you back. But you are young and handsome so very handsome and I am so old, and so plain, and so worn you can't think of marrying me now. Mother said so she said if you did come back, you'd never marry such a scarecrow as I am." "When did she say that, my Beauty?" said Rich ard, asking the question, not because he cared for an answer, but to keep her mind to a connected train of thought. ." Beauty ! " she echoed, smiling, " That's what you used to call me ; but I'm no beauty now. But you asked me when mother called me a scarecrow. It was nearly four years ago, when she first learned that her husband had lost our fortunes. Then she wanted me to be a spirit-medium, to get gain for her support. I told her that I couldn't, and wouldn't, be a tene ment-house for every foul spirit that roamed about the earth that, if I did, I shouldn't be fit to live with you in your home beyond the stars beyond the stars, Dickon ; for I didn't dream of ever meeting you here. Oh ! is not the Lord good to us ? " There had been some delay in securing a physi cian: but now one entered the room with Mr. Mur ray. The case had been explained to him, and he merely counted the young lady's pulse, saying, " The shock has weakened her that is all. She needs quiet, and entire freedom from excitement for a few days. A good sleep will do more to bring her fully around than anything else." She was sitting erect, and to all appearance was as 286 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. well as before. " But Richard can't stay here," she said, " Every room in the house is occupied and I'll not be parted from him again. You live somewhere, Dickon won't you take me with you ? " " Yes, he will," said Isabel. " You shall have my room, and I'll tend you day and night until you are quite well again." "Thank you," she answered. " Then you live with Richard ? " " Yes," said Isabel, " we live together. I am his sister, and my mother is his mother." " Then, surely," replied Charlotte, " I shall love you very much." In the carriage she reclined her head against the young man's shoulder, and appeared to sink at once into a gentle slumber. As they rolled along the crowded streets she opened her eyes again, and said to him, "Dickon, dear, won't you take me out upon the veranda, under the grape-vine, where we have sat so often together. I'm tired and you'll have to help me. But I want to see the sun go down there on our wed ding day." A little while later she lifted her head from his shoulder, and said, " I believe I've been a little dazed, but it all comes to me now. You have come back, Dickon, and you love me still, though I am so poor, ancj so ugly. Why, Dickon, I dare not have a look- ing-glass in my room, lest I should break it by merely passing near it. But, I never was half so beautiful as Miss Lamson." " You were always very beautiful to me," he said. A RESURRECTION OF THE DEAD. 287 " You used to say so, and yet, you wouldn't marry me because I was rich. But I'm not rich now so, that needn't be in the way." " Richard is the rich one, now," said Isabel. " He is very rich, and a great merchant. But he is just as good and true as when he was poor." Soon after their arrival at the house, Isabel con ducted Charlotte up to her own chamber, while Richard remained alone in the library. While he was seated there about an hour later, thinking over the strange events of the night, Isabel stole into the room, and coming softly behind him, put her arms about his neck, saying, "Dickon, dear Dickon what a sweet name it is ! How strange I never thought of it. But now I shall always call you so." " Do, dear," he said, " Won't you sit down, and talk with me a little while, Bella ? " " Not now, darling," she said, " I am not equal to it to-night. We will talk it all over to-morrow. But, you must not leave the house till you have seen Char lotte. And oh ! she has told me, Richard, that she loves me because I love you, and she would like to have me with her always ! Now, kiss me ' good night/ dear." CHAPTER XVIII. CONCLUSION. ISABEL did not come down to breakfast on the following morning, and Mrs. Lamson and Richard had been awaiting her for a full hour, when she made her appearance in the library. She seemed as self-col lected as usual, but her manner was sedate, and her face bore traces of a sleepless night. " I hope I have not kept you waiting, Dickon," she said, as she entered the room. " It does not matter, Bella," he answered, "I was only anxious to hear about Charlotte." " She is sleeping now very quietly," she replied. " My going into her room after leaving you last night, awoke her, and she did not get to sleep again for several hours; but she has slept very soundly ever since. She is entirely herself again, and Richard she is an angel." He smiled as he answered, " I knew that you would appreciate her she is so much like you. Two persons so like, and yet so unlike, I never knew. But, Bella, you do not look well." " The truth is, Richard," said Mrs. Lamson, " I don't believe she has slept two hours during the night." Richard had been regarding her closely, and now he said, in a very gentle tone, " You should have talked CONCLUSION. 289 with me last night, Bella. You would have slept better, if you had." The tears sprang to her eyes as she looked at him, but she said nothing. Mrs. Lamson now rose, saying, "Children, I will leave you alone together. I know that what you conclude upon will be for the best." " Don't go, mother," said Richard, catching her by the hand. " Neither Bella nor I would keep anything from you. Our first thought is to make you happy." " I know it is, my son," she answered, her arms about his neck, and her face close to his. " Oh ! Richard, with Israel dead, I could not live without you. Promise me that whatever you and Bella decide upon, you will not leave us." " Leave you ! " he exclaimed, drawing her more closely to him. " How could I leave you ? Until you loved me I never knew a mother's love. It would tear the very soul from my body to part with either you or Bella." He looked at Isabel as he said this. Her eyes were streaming with tears. She turned her face away to hide them, but he saw her bosom heave tumultuously. " Bless you, my son, for saying that," said Mrs. Lamson, " but I knew that you would say it. Now, kiss me, dear, and I will go. Be gentle with Bella. Her heart is almost broken." As Mrs. Lamson turned to leave the room, Richard sprang to his feet, and taking Isabel by the hand, placed her upon the lounge by his side, saying, " Bella, dear Bella : have we lived so long together and you do not know me yet ? " '9 2QO THE LAST OF THE TIIORNDIKES. " Oh ! yes, dear," she answered, now sobbing convul sively, and hiding her face on his breast. " I do know you Richard." " Then you know that every fibre of my being is twined about you that you are a part of myself, and I could not live without you." " Yes, dear. It is so with me, dear : I could not part from you and live." She spoke more calmly, but she held him to her convulsively. " And do you not remember that last night, when your father joined our hands together, and I promised to be your stay and comfort as long as I should live? " " Yes, dear ; and I think he died happier for the promise you made." He paused to press his lips to hers, and when he spoke again his voice was husky with emotion. " And do you not know, Bella, that from the first day your father knew me, he loaded me with kindness ? that all I am, and nine-tenths of all I have, I owe to him ? " "I do not know that," she said ; "what you are, you owe to yourself ; and what you have, you fairly earned even the great love that he gave you." "We sometimes differ, dear, but we never dispute : so, I'll not contradict you now. Nevertheless, what I say is true ; and can you believe that I shall let him say to me when we meet in the other life, ' I trusted my daughter to you, and you promised to be her stay and consolation to her life's end. And how have you kept that promise ? By your sugared words you bound to you her very soul ; and you made her believe in an earthly paradise in which you would CONCLUSION. 291 love and cherish her as the apple of your eye, till you should restore her to me at the last. All this you led her to hope : and then to gratify your own selfish love, you cast her off, to drift through life loveless and alone.' Oh ! no, Bella, you cannot know me, if you have for one moment thought that I would sneak into your good father's presence to hear those words ; and you don't know Charlotte if you suppose that she would not despise me if I did." " I do know both her and you, darling, and that makes all this so hard to bear," and again she hid her face upon his breast, and sobbed convulsively. " But it need not be hard, dear Bella," he said, gently smoothing her rumpled hair. " I will be your loving husband always. Charlotte will willingly resign me to you. She will tell you that she would not be happy, if I were to disappoint your father's wish." "She has already told me so, dear," said Bella. " She loves you so well that she would rather die than have you do what she thinks would dishonor you. And as she loves you, so you love her. Did I not see how your very soul bounded to her when you first caught sight of her face last night ? I knew it would be so, when I told you I would be yours. I knew that a parting would some day come ; but I thought it would be in the other life, and that for all of this life I should have your sweet love. I thought I could give you up to her there, for in the nature of things you are hers. But, I should have you here here oh! my darling." She put her hand quickly to her side, for a sharp knife wound pierced her : then she 292 THE LAST OF THE TIIORNDIKES. buried her face in her hands, and wept unrestrain edly. He placed his arm tenderly about her, and his voice was very gentle as he said. " Listen to me, Bella. There is something higher than love and that is, truth and right ; and there can be no true love that is not founded on truth and right. When I first saw Charlotte's haggard face made haggard by sorrow for me my soul did bound to her, and I felt that nothing in earth or heaven should keep me from her. That was the impulse of love ; but as soon as I could reflect, I saw that, if I followed that impulse I should be false to truth and my very manhood. So, darling, you shall be mine, and I will be yours, until death, what may come afterwards we will leave to God." Then he drew her again closely to him, and covered her lips with caresses. She submitted passively, and lay for a few moments in his arms, looking up lovingly in his face, but saying nothing. At last, gently disen gaging herself, she said, " I saw all this was coming that moment when she told me who she was ; but I prayed the Lord to strengthen, and guide me, and He did on the instant He did. He showed me my whole way, and my whole duty, clearly ; and you saw that I went through it all, without faltering a moment. I have now asked Him again, and He has shown me the way, and given me strength again ; so, dear, listen to me, and do not speak one word, for if you do, I may not be able to get through. But, kiss me first, darling." Then drawing a little away from him, she went on. " I meant to have slept on my lounge last night, but CONCLUSION. 293 the little noise I made on entering my room, awoke Charlotte, and she urged me to come into the bed with her. I did so, because I feared that if I should refuse, it might affect her unfavorably in her weak condition. I had no sooner lain down beside her than she said to me, ' It has all come to me, dear lady. Richard was not lost at sea. He went to China, and the great merchant, who was to have made him his partner, was your father, and that explains your being his sister, and your mother, his mother. But how was it that I did not hear from him after he got to China ? ' " Then I told her of your having sent for her, and of their having written that you were dead, and also of your seeing the notice of her death in two of the Boston papers. This shocked her so greatly that I was afraid to go on, and I said that I would tell her the rest some other time, when she was better able to bear it ; but meanwhile she might take comfort, for you were hers at last never to be parted from her again. However, she insisted that I should tell her all, at once, and she assured me that she was strong enough to hear it, and could not sleep until she knew all that had happened to you. " So, I told her how father and mother loved you from the very first ; what a help you were to him in his business, and what a joy to us in the house ; how nearly you had died when you heard of her death ; how we all watched over, and prayed for you, till you got well ; how you and I were thrown together in attending to father's charities ; how we studied 294 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. together, and in that dear little room found our Lord together ; and how I prayed with you, and worked with you, and went with you everywhere, and how you told me everything, even your business. Then I told her how father put you at the head of his great firm, over two older partners who had been with him twenty years ; and how when we were all ready to come to this country together, father died, and with his last breath blessed you, and committed mother and me to you, and all his vast property everywhere. I told her everything, dear, except that you had grown to be my very life, and I should die if separated from you. " While I was telling her all this she often put her arm about me, and kissed me, and thanked me for having been so much to you ; but when I repeated to her the words of father when he was dying, she said. ' Ah ! I see he expected Richard would marry you, and, thinking me dead, Richard has promised to do so : and you love him and how could you help lov ing him, being with him so intimately, and so long? Is it not so, dear lady! ' " I could not answer I could not speak. All I could do was to burst into tears, and weep as if my very heart were breaking. Then she put her arm again about me, and drawing me close to her, and fondling me as if I had been a little child, she said, ' Be com forted, my dear, I shall not take him from you. Our dear Lord your Lord and mine has not let you lead me to Richard to destroy your own peace. Oh ! no, I will not be in your way, I will give him to you. CONCLUSION. 295 It will be happiness enough for me to know that he will go through life with the love of so pure and true a soul as yours. You deserve him, dear lady, for you saved his life, and you led him to our dear Lord, and made him what I see he is a strong-minded, great hearted man. I love you for doing this ; and I should not love him as I do, if I were not willing he should pay with his whole life for the great kindness and love that have been shown him by you and yours.' " " I knew she would say that, Bella," said Richard. " She would not be herself if she had not said it." "But let me go on, dear," she answered. " If you interrupt me I shall not be able to get through. Well ; then I said to her, ' You mean that he shall be mine for this life but you will claim him in the hereafter?' She answered. 'I don't know the future. That will be as the Lord wills. I shall not claim him there ; but if he is mine, he will come to me, and nothing can keep him away. The duty of to-day is all that concerns us ; and it is very clear that duty now bids me to give him up to you ; and I do it, dear lady, cheerfully and lovingly, seeing it is the Lord's will.' " I refused to accept the sacrifice ; but she per sisted, and even urged it as her wish. I still refused, and then suddenly, without a moment's warning, her head sank back upon her pillow, and she fell asleep asleep from very sorrow. I suppose the strain upon her nerves had been too much for her strength, and nature came to her relief by overcoming her senses by 296 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. a deep slumber. At first I was alarmed, and I turned up the gas, and watched her closely for a long time ; but when I saw that she continued to breathe quietly, and the sleep was perfectly natural, I crept softly out of bed, turned the gas down again, and went to Mother's room. I went to Mother because my heart was bursting, and I should have gone crazy if I had not unburdened myself to some one." Here he drew her gently to him, and caressing her tenderly, said, " Poor, dear little thing and all this suffering for me ! I should be the meanest wretch alive, if I did not drive from you every sorrow." She neither refused nor returned his caresses, but merely saying, " You were not to interrupt me. Let me go on, please," she continued. " I told Mother all, and for a long while lay weeping and moaning in her arms, for I could not control myself it was so hard, dear, so very hard to give you up. Mother could not advise me ; but at last she said, ' Let us pray the good Lord to show us what to do.' Then we kneeled down, and asked Him to give us light, and the light came to both of us at once, and we saw our way clearly. And this it was, dear : that you should marry Charlotte, and she should be the mistress of the household we all living together,- just as Father intended we should live, Mother being your mother, and I, your loving sister, just as I always have been." It was so; and they were a loving household, living for, and in, one another, and realizing that peace CONCLUSION. 297 which comes only to the pure and true of heart, whose souls, purified by deep trials, have come out into a serener light, and to a nearer and clearer vision of the All Pure and All Loving. The bloom did not fade from the cheeks of Isabel, and it came again into those of Charlotte. The old lustre, too, shone in her hair, though it was still laced with silvery threads, and broad white bands were about her temples. But I think this added to her beauty ; at least, it did so in the eyes of her husband, who often told her that she was far more beautiful at fifty, than when she was a girl of nineteen, and they knelt together in her father's room, and he first called her " wife," and she first called him "husband." Isabel, though beautiful, and exceedingly attractive, has never married. It has been enough for her to walk by his side, to share his thoughts, to meet daily his loving look, and to often hear his gentle words : " My dear, sweet Sister." Mrs. Lamson is now upwards of eighty ; her face is wrinkled, her hair as white as the driven snow ; but her mind is clear, her eye is bright, and it lights up with a tender glow whenever she speaks of her three most loving children. She seldom leaves the house, but sits there day by day, waiting for the dawn, but casting loving glances around on the gentle souls, who are making her old age a rose-strewn pathway to the higher life, which, in God's good time, she is to share with her beloved and honored husband. And now I have to part with this loving and lova ble household. I am loath to do so, for they have taucfht me that there is something: in life which the 298 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. sceptic has not found ; something that makes it worth living, that allies it to all religious hope, and all unfeigned goodness, purity, and truth. A few words in regard to some other persons who are mentioned in this narrative will bring it to an end. In the December following his marriage, Richard was surprised by a visit from Mrs. Alger and her daughter. He had previously notified her that Char lotte Wilder was alive, and consequently entitled to the legacy bequeathed to her by her Uncle. Mrs. Alger brought the amount of it with her, and paid it over to Richard, with many expressions of satisfaction that she was able to repair the injustice which Mrs. Cravan had sought to inflict upon her daughter. Her principal object in coming herself to America, was, however, to consult Richard as to the management of her real-estate in China. It was in charge of her late husband's partners, who, she was convinced, were de ceiving and defrauding her. Richard suggested as a speedy remedy, the placing of it all in the hands of Lee Ling, the Compradore. An honester man, he said, was not living, nor one better acquainted with real-estate in Hong Kong. Mrs. Alger had merely to send him her Power of At torney, and he would protect her interest to the utter most. He would ask him to take charge of the prop erty ; but would advise its being sold, and the pro ceeds invested in the English funds. Richard and his entire household, were charmed with Mrs. Alger and her daughter. They were their CONCLUSION. 299 guests for many weeks, and when they finally set sail for England, it was with the intention of leasing or selling their residence near London, and then return ing to New York to live as neighbors of the Thorn- dikes. This intention they speedily carried out, and, , if time and strength serve me, I may at a future time relate something of their subsequent history in this country. It only remains for me to devote a few sen tences to the unnatural mother, whose malignity came so near to wrecking the life of her own daughter. Mrs. Cravan brought her legacy with her from Eng land. How much of it remained to her after paying the London lawyers, and satisfying the rapacity of Suydam, I do not know ; but she at once bought a villa at Newport, and engaged the most expensive suite of rooms in the same up-town hotel in. which she had lived as a charity boarder. Richard occasionally heard of her as living a life of wild extravagance, in an insane round of excitement and female dissipation : but he never met her, nor did Charlotte. If she was ever alluded to between them, Charlotte would say sadly, " Let us not speak of her, Dickon. She was once my mother ; but our ways in life have parted." At last I think it was about seven years after their marriage Charlotte one day received a letter from her mother, in which she said, " If you or your hus band are willing to do a kindness to one who has wronged you so greatly as I have, you will come to me directly. It may soon be too late, for my physi cian tells me that I may die at any moment." When 300 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. Charlotte handed this note to her husband, he said, " I feel only pity for her, Lottie. We will go if you have strength enough to bear the interview." Mrs. Cravan was living at the up-town hotel, and, their card being sent to her rooms, the servant soon returned saying that the lady was at home, and would receive the visitors. They were shown into a spacious apartment on the second floor, tastefully, though somewhat gorgeously, furnished, and fronting upon a crowded avenue through which a stream of busy life was racing and whirling. The noon -day sun was streaming in at the front windows, and near one of these windows, in a high-backed arm-chair, Mrs. Cra van was seated, looking intently at the door by which they entered. They were expecting to meet her, or they might have failed to recognize her. Her once luxuriant hair had fallen off, and what little remained was of a muddy white ; and the beauty of her face had gone forever. Her eyes had a dull, glassy, and yet, rest less look, that told of an unquiet mind ; and her once rounded cheeks were sunken, and of that sallow, sickly hue, which is often seen in persons who have for years given a loose rein to disorderly passion. Her form was bloated and unwieldly. Her hands were twisted at the wrists, the finger-ends pointing inwards, and her feet were drawn out of shape, one of them, which rested on a stool, being badly distorted. Altogether, she was an object painful to behold. Astonished beyond measure, Richard and Charlotte paused near the threshold of the room, and stood CONCLUSION. 301 there a few moments, speechless. She, too, looked at them without speaking, her face wearing a cold, hard, indescribable expression. Richard was the first to break the silence. " You have sent for us, Mrs. Cra- van," he said. Her eyes still fixed on them in a sort of glassy stare, she replied, in a hard, gritty tone, "Yes, I sent for you." Motioning Charlotte to a chair, and taking one him self, Richard said, with evident feeling, "You are sadly changed. It grieves me to see you so afflicted." "Why should it grieve you?" she asked, in the same gritty tone. " What reason have you to feel for me anything but hatred ? " " Whatever reason I have, I do not hate you, Mrs. Cravan. But tell me, is there no remedy for this ? can you not be freed from this misery?" " There is no remedy, Richard,'' she answered, in a somewhat softer tone. " I have sat here now, chained to this chair, for a whole year. I may sit here twenty years longer, or the rheumatism may go suddenly to my heart, and carry me off in an instant. Dropsy has recently set in you see how it has deformed me and that may soon bring me release. I hope it will. I would hasten the time if I dared. But I dare not. I am a coward, I cannot face the future." " I thank God you have been held from that," he said. " It would only make bad worse." Then, after a slight pause, during which he had looked closely at Charlotte, to observe the effect of the interview upon her, he added, " Do you suffer much pain ? " 302 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. " At times I do, excruciating pain in every joint and limb. But that is not all I suffer. I am a wreck, Richard, soul as well as body ; and as I sit here alone, helpless, and almost hopeless, the past comes back, and tortures me with its dreadful memories. It is a hideous thing, but I am forced to look at it. I try to avoid it ; but it meets me whichever way I turn. It haunts me day and night. I have read that hell is the memory of a misspent life, rising forever before the mind in that world where sleep brings no oblivion, and the soul must always, by day and by night, act over its sins, and be tortured by its wrong-doings." " If such are your reflections, Mrs. Cravan," said Richard, " I pity you, I sincerely pity you." " I do not want your pity," she answered tartly. "I did not send for you to hear it. Nor do I want your forgiveness, or your friendship and now I mean both of you. If I had it, it would torture me, for I do not deserve it." " Then why did you send for us?" asked Richard. " For an altogether selfish reason to relieve my mind of the burden that is on it. It may help me to a few moment's peace, if I confess my sins to you two whom I have so deeply wronged." " Very well," said Richard, " we will listen, if it will help to relieve the pain of mind you feel." " Well," she answered ; " if I talk, you must let me tell things as they come to me. Being so much alone with my own thoughts, I have almost lost control of my ideas, and my brain will act strangely. My mind is clear enough ; but my thoughts come to me dis- CONCLUSION. 303 jointed, without connection ; and you will have to prompt me lead me to the subject you would like to have me talk about." Then followed a hideous recital of pride and selfish ness, of fraud and dishonesty, of sin and shame, of guilty love and premeditated murder, when, in a frenzy of insane rage, she had intentionally goaded on the man, who had been at once her victim and her destroyer, to the crime of self-destruction. The de tails of the wretched story I shall not recount, for there can be no profit in tracing a career that contains nothing to admire, or to emulate ; nor any pleasure in witnessing the tortures of a soul racked by a remorse that had in it not one element of repentance. Char lotte heard the tale with tears, Richard, with a sort of horror that was at times almost blood-curdling. When at the last she told of the wicked device of inserting the notice in the Boston papers, to ward off an investigation that might have led to the detection of the lie contained in Cravan's letter to Henshaw, she said, with a hollow laugh, " But, Richard, are you not avenged ? Look at me a miserable wreck, a living death chained to this chair, and condemned to go over and over, day after day, my wretched past, with never-ceasing regret, and self-abhorrence! " " Say no more ! " he exclaimed, " say no more ! No good can come from thus raking up the dark things in your life. The wrongs you have done can not be undone, so leave them with God. Cast your burden upon Him, and ask Him to give you peace. So only will you find it. But you shall not be friend- 304 THE LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. less or alone, if you will allow us to befriend and com fort you. Both Charlotte and I only need to know that our kind feeling will be accepted, to give you all the care that children owe to a mother. We will not dwell upon what you have been ; we will think only of what you may become. And as to the wrong you have done us, it may console you at some future time, if it does not now, to know that fully, freely, and with all our hearts, we forgive you." " Ah, Richard," she said, closing her eyes, and a bitter expression coming upon her face, " your for giveness is galling to me your kindness is a reproach. Leave me ! Leave me to my misery, and, unless I send for you, never see me again." She never sent for them, and they never saw her again. She lived another two years, friendless, love less and alone ; and then from that spacious room she was carried to the narrow grave the grave which holds in its bosom all the secrets of human history. There let the secrets of her life rest, known only to God, and to those who were the victims of her wicked ness. After a wedded life of more than thirty years, Rich ard and Charlotte are still childless, and, therefore, I am right in styling him the LAST OF THE THORNDIKES. THE END. UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY Los Angeles This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. Form L9 15m-10,'48(Bl039)444 UNIVERSITY ol AT LOS ANGELES LIBRARY ES 1744 (T424 1 Last of the Thorndikes . PS 1744 G424 1 UCSOUTHENREGONAUB^YACIL^ A A 000037442 1